by Jewel Allen
I love how strong you are getting. You have always been strong, but I realize now what you are trying to do. I have always been blessed with my profession so I completely understand how rewarding it feels to complete a day’s honest work outside the home.
Of course there was and is no need for you to prove yourself beyond the role of mother and wife. You are one of the strongest women I know. Beautiful in and out, and the best thing that ever happened in my life.
I hope you will continue to allow me to be part of yours.
Love forever,
Stratton
By the time I got to the end of the letter, I was full-blown weeping, my body racked by sobs that could not be stilled.
Chapter Twenty-One
Stratton
“Where do you kids want to go?” I asked Ben and Evie in the truck as we trundled down the road.
Without missing a beat, Ben said, “McDonald’s!”
Evie’s little voice echoed his.
I chuckled. “McDonald’s it is.”
As we pulled up in my truck to the McDonald’s parking lot, I remembered the times we had come here as a family. Me, opening Kennedy’s door, and then each of us helping a kid out of their booster seats.
Ben did the honor of undoing Evie’s buckle. He acted as though he knew he needed to be grown up to help our family without Mom there. My heart ached for what they would miss if this continued on for us. I understood where Kennedy was coming from but at the same time…her recent decision to move out made me feel betrayed. Did she not think of the impact on our kids?
I shook my head as I mulled this. I probably would never understand Kennedy fully, though I’d do my best to try.
Preoccupied with my thoughts, I herded the children into the fast food joint, Evie in my arms and Ben on foot. Everyone eating inside the restaurant turned to watch us, making me feel decidedly out of place. Most of the grown-ups there were moms with their playgroup buddies and kids. There were a few groups with both parents. And yes, there was another man with his toddlers. But we were the minority.
We ordered our food, my kids taking off as soon as they partially ate their Happy Meals.
A mom and two kids entered the restaurant. I did a double-take thinking it was Kennedy, but it was Emma, her cousin. Over the years, her style had mellowed out and her hair was no longer the dark dye job she did ten years before. In her suit, she looked like the capable realtor she was. She resembled Kennedy, except she had darker shoulder-length hair and a tougher veneer.
I wondered if Kennedy had told her about us. I hadn’t told any of my family. Pride, I guess.
Emma waved at me as the kids started to take off for the ball pit, but she warned them, “Remember, we’re getting takeout. We’ll leave as soon as I get our food.”
The kids didn’t seem to hear what she said, and she shook her head with a bemused smile. Stopping by my table, she asked, “Kennedy at her new place?”
Yup, she told her.
“Yeah.”
“I haven’t even gone over to visit her since she moved in.” Emma rolled her eyes. “That’s how bad a cousin I am. Maybe I’ll stop by this weekend.” Her eyes studied me. “You doing okay, Stratton?”
If someone else would have asked that, I might have attempted a lie, but this was Emma. She’d always been my favorite in-law. The one who I knew Kennedy turned to for advice.
“Not really,” I admitted. “I miss her something fierce.”
Emma’s gaze was sympathetic. “I’m really sorry you guys are having a rough time. I still don’t understand what happened. I know she’s cut up about it.”
“She is?” My voice rose with excitement. “Sorry, I don’t mean that I want her sad or anything, but…”
“Sure, I understand. I would hope both of you are sad about it.”
Sad didn’t begin to describe what I was going through. “It’s sad, sure.” My eyes wandered to where the cousins were playing, thinking of how much I needed Kennedy, and not just as a mom to our kids.
“I don’t think I’ll get them out of here, at this rate.” Emma shook her head. “I’d better get our food bought.”
“I can help wrangle them if you need me to. Maybe have my kids take a break so that everyone can leave the pit.”
“That would be helpful. Thanks.” She headed over to the food line.
A few minutes later, I had all four kids come out, with little Evie throwing a tantrum.
“Hey,” a female voice greeted me as I returned to my seat, wrangling Evie. “Aren’t you Captain Mulder?” She was a brunette with a nice smile. I tried to place her, but couldn’t.
“Yes, I am. Sorry, and you are?”
She looked to shake my hand, but seeing that I had my hands full with a toddler, she laughed and waved it off. “You probably don’t remember but I took my son and his cub scout troop in to tour the fire station.”
“Ah, I see. Nice to see you again.”
She glanced back at Emma. “That’s not your wife, is it?”
“It’s her cousin.”
“Where’s your wife?” Behind her cheerful smile, she seemed almost…malicious.
I didn’t know how to answer this, but I needed to. “She’s home.”
“You’re a brave man, taking the kids here by yourself.”
“I guess firefighting prepared me for this,” I retorted.
She grinned. “I bet. Well, good to see you.”
The kids finished off their fries and apple juice.
Where’s your wife?
She’s off, finding herself.
I glanced around and saw that other females were eyeing me. Giving me encouraging smiles. This was so frustrating. They had to see my wedding ring. I held Kennedy personally responsible for leaving me to fend for myself in the world.
Goll, I missed her.
I wished she and I could sit together and whisper sweet nothings while the children were happy at play. An inexpensive but fun date.
I tried to remember the last time I took her on one. It had been weeks. I could have been on a double-date with her tonight, holding hands, sharing popcorn, maybe even kissing, if only the situation hadn’t imploded thanks to Shanna.
I sighed, attracting the sympathetic glance of a nearby mom.
Oh boy, this was going to be a long night.
Emma returned with their food in bags. “Okay, kids of mine, time to go.” To me, she said, “Good luck, Stratton. You’re a good man.”
I wanted so badly to believe that.
While my kids were out of the ball pit, I suggested that we head home for some popcorn and a movie. I added silently, away from everyone who meant well.
“Yes!” Ben fist-pumped. “Star Wars!”
Evie didn’t object. She climbed on my lap and wanted a snuggle.
“Sounds like we’ll watch some Yoda tonight,” I said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kennedy
I hadn’t asked Stratton to bring them home by a certain hour. He knew their bedtime and I figured he would be sensible about it. He was on OT early the next day so we had agreed beforehand they wouldn’t sleep the night at our house.
Our house. The phrase bounced around funny in my head.
My phone buzzed at nine. It was a text from Stratton. Of course I knew it wasn’t some sort of love note, but my heart still kind of leaped to see his name on my phone screen.
Stratton: Do you mind if the kids and I watch a Star Wars movie?
Me: No, that’s great.
Stratton: Good, because I’ve already got the popcorn popped and we’re starting it.
A pang of envy hit me hard. I wished I could be with my little family, enjoying popcorn and a movie. Even if it was Star Wars.
I had already started wondering if I should get ready for bed, but now I knew I still had two hours before I needed to be presentable.
Why do you need to be presentable, Kennedy?
I shook my head at myself. I was acting like I was trying to attract my hu
sband’s eye. When in fact, we should be taking things slow, fixing things between us. Even though his letter was very sweet.
My phone buzzed again. I snatched at it. Maybe it was Stratton giving me a play by play of the movie.
But no, it was Emma.
Emma: Hey, girl. Where are you at tonight?
Me: Home. Why?
Emma: I saw Stratton and your cute kids at McDonald’s. The kids were in the ball pit and he was all by his lonesome self. Well, when he wasn’t being approached by some moms.
My stomach fell.
Emma: You there?
Me: Yes. Did he seem pretty friendly to them?
Emma: He didn’t beat them away with French fries, if that’s what you’re getting at. But he didn’t encourage them. He was on his best behavior.
Me: You know, it doesn’t really matter what he does without me.
Emma: Liar. It does matter. You’re still married to each other, amiright?
Me: Yes, but what I mean is, I can’t police his every move. If I tried to, even before THIS happened, I would have gone crazy.
Emma: Good point. Anyway. I hope you’re doing okay. Need anything? Be honest now.
I thought of the sink that leaked and my pretty depleted bank account. The dishes piled high in the sink. The bathroom that needed to be cleaned.
Me: I’m good, thanks.
Emma: We would love to visit you soon. I’ll call first.
Me: I’d love that.
After our exchange, I felt miserable. I pictured Stratton at the restaurant surrounded by all these perky women who no doubt were wanting to befriend this manly man.
Stop it, Kennedy. You’re only going to drive yourself crazy.
It was self-talk I learned to tell myself early on in our marriage when I realized there were groupies whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to flirt with First Responders. For the longest time, I felt like I could trust Stratton.
But then Shanna came up often between us, because I’d see her around town and they always seemed friendly with each other. Her eyes also held something else—a sort of cunning, as though she was sizing up her odds. After several conversations about her, he claimed that he would stay away from Shanna, and I believed him. What I wasn’t sure about was her.
Now, I wasn’t sure about anything at all.
I had changed into an old faded three-quarter sleeve jersey sleep-shirt for the night. It was past eleven so I anticipated Stratton would be pulling up any moment with the children.
My phone buzzed.
Stratton: I’m in your parking lot and both kids are asleep in the back.
Me: I’ll be right there.
I came out in my flip flops and bare legs, the night breeze bringing me the smell of the lake. Up above me, the stars were crisp and clear, breathtakingly lovely. The light came on in Stratton’s truck as he opened the driver’s door. I was still yards away but I could feel his gaze burning as he caught sight of me. And then he went to the back to start getting Ben out.
I helped get Evie out. Her soft cheek smelled of popcorn and ketchup. But her breath was minty and she was already changed into her jammies. Stratton and I trundled together, each bearing a child in our arms, along the flagstones that marked the path to my front door. I had turned on the light over the sink so that the rest of the cabin was in semi-darkness. Not as shabby-looking that way. As if it mattered, which I realized then was kind of a pathetic attempt at making our cabin more presentable. Stratton hoisted Ben up the ladder and into the loft first. Then I handed him Evie.
“Tuck her in on the inside,” I whispered. “I worry she’ll roll off to the edge.”
He nodded. As I handed her to him, his hands skimmed my arms. I stepped back and crossed my arms over my chest. A minute later, he was coming down the ladder.
I forced myself to smile. “Thanks.”
He stood there watching me. “Sure. We had fun. I love spending time with them.”
His voice was low and husky. I told myself it was because he was trying to not wake the kids.
“Is there something I can do for you?” he murmured.
“No,” I said quickly, anxious for him to go. “I’m good.”
His glance flicked over my shoulder. I followed his gaze…to my dirty dishes. “I’ll help you clean up.”
My cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “I can do it tomorrow.”
His eyes burned a trail across my jersey sleep-shirt. “You can go to bed. This’ll be quick.”
He made his way to the sink and started running the water. One thing I loved about Stratton—he was a good dish-washer. In fact, I almost dare say he enjoyed it. Most household chores came easy to him after so many years as a fireman. If only he’d been around more to show off his domestic abilities.
I joined him and took over the other sink. “I can rinse.”
“Okay.” He had a smile in his voice that I tried vainly to ignore.
We worked side by side without speaking. With the little yellowish light over us, we seemed to be in our own world. I was acutely aware of his arms near mine, his muscular arms tackling the mess of dishes.
I put the first batch of clean dishes in the drying tray. “Emma said she saw you at McDonald’s.”
“Yeah.” He soaked a pan. “She was trying to get takeout. Her kids were with her so the cousins had a super-short playdate.”
“How did you manage to get all the kids out of the pit?” I chuckled. “Once they get in there, it’s like getting stuck in a black hole.”
“I only had to pry one child out. Good thing I keep a Halligan tool in my truck.” I heard the grin in his voice. “Sweet angelic Evie threw a fit.”
“Stinker.”
A little buzz hung over that last word. It felt like old times, when we would be cleaning up in the kitchen, and the kids were already in bed, a song would come on the radio, and he’d have me in his arms in a goofy embrace that usually ended in a kiss…
I turned my face away, trying to compose myself. This had been working out so well—this emotional separation. I needed to get myself up on my two feet before I could go back crawling to him. This had always been a need, deep down inside, and I needn’t give up so easily.
He said my name like a caress. I turned back to him, startled, to find him staring at me expectantly. And then I lowered my glance and saw that he was handing me a plate.
“By the way, thanks for the letter,” I said, biting my lip. “It made me cry.”
“I’m sorry.” His voice sounded contrite. “That was not my goal.”
“It was a good cry.” I paused. “I’m sorry you had such a rough week. That was nice to read your thoughts. And all the other sweet things you said.”
His voice lowered. “Thanks.”
In my mind, I felt like we were taking a step forward. Hope buoyed me.
I took the plate from him, but he did not let go right away. I raised my eyes to his and he was gazing at me with a heat that made my pulse speed up. He inched close, and then closer, until our lips were a breath away. His free hand smoothed over my waist, the warm dampness seeping through my jersey sleep dress.
Evie cried out, shattering the quiet.
I blinked, then backed away, my hand ending up with the plate. His left a damp imprint on my waist. Dunking the plate in the sink water, I placed it in the drying tray and whirled to climb up the loft.
By the time I soothed Evie back to sleep, Stratton had drained and straightened up the rest of the sink. Even wiping the counter down like I’d often reminded him to do.
There’s nothing sexier than a man who cleans up in the kitchen, I decided.
I pushed these renegade thoughts from my mind and walked over to the door. He slowly made his way over, his face in darkness as he left the halo of the kitchen light.
“Thanks for helping me with the dishes,” I said.
“You are welcome. Any time.”
Yeah, I should call him over every night to clean my kitchen.
“Good nigh
t.”
My eyes had adjusted to the darkness. He glanced up at the loft and then at me. Like he didn’t want to go. “Good night.”
After he left and I joined the children in the loft, I caressed the spot he’d touched on my waist and fell asleep with a dull ache in my chest.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Stratton
I arrived at the fire station the next shift to the smell of donuts baking. When I entered the kitchen, an array of neon colored carbs were piled on plates. Hunter had on his official chef apron and was piping some batter into silicone donut pans. His face was scrunched in concentration.
“What is this week’s baking theme?” I asked, stealing a lime green donut. “Aliens?”
“Yup. Unidentified Fried Object.”
“Personally,” Weston chimed in, entering in workout clothes, “I prefer the baked kind…not!” He took a handful and bit into one after another, probably to make sure that no one else puts dibs on them. That didn’t stop Ransom from snatching half of one anyway, leaving a mess on the floor.
Gage was reading the paper and not eating any donuts, which was unlike him.
“What, no donuts for Maya’s friend today?” Hunter asked.
“I think I will be okay not seeing or smelling or eating a donut for a few days.” He grimaced. “She talked me into a donut frenzy Saturday night.” He patted his belly. “I’m still feeling it.” He held up the paper. “Hey, listen to this. Such a whack job.”
“Page resident on crusade to rid property of gophers,” he read the headline. “George Anderson, a lifelong resident of Page, AZ, has made it his mission to get rid of the critters.”
“Sounds nasty,” I commented, and then almost had a heart attack when I realized which property he was standing on. Kennedy’s little cabin stood not too far in the distance. “Holy Voley. That’s Kennedy’s landlord.”
“No way, Cap.” Gage gaped at me. “For real?”
