Always a Temp

by Jeannie Watt

  Dane pulled his shiny BMW in behind her. Flames shot high from the dead elm trees that had once formed a windbreak around the plant, and two engines were already in position, shooting jets of water onto the trees. Another was attacking the rapidly moving line of fire in the field between the plant and the river.

  Smoke rolled over the highway as Callie walked back to Dane’s car, where she could get a better look at the small groups of people. He waved his hand in front of his face. “Man, this is nasty.”

  “One of the side effects of fire,” Callie said as she searched for the Hobart children.

  Nothing. No children at all. Yet. Most of the people gathering to watch were residents of the housing development above the highway. Callie had seen several of them pull into their driveways and then walk down to the edge of the road.

  She turned her attention back to the fire, watching the firefighters spray water on the flames. A truck with a blade was digging a line around the structures. Unlike the previous fire Callie had witnessed, the volunteer force wasn’t making much headway. The fire was still relatively small, but vegetation was dry after a month with no rain and the wind kept shifting direction.

  A fluorescent-green BLM fire truck rumbled from the highway down the river road to the plant. A second later another followed.

  “Bringing in reinforcements,” Dane said.

  “The plant must abut BLM land.” The BLM wouldn’t fight a fire on city or county property, but they would stand ready in case the flames spread onto federal land.

  Callie once again searched the crowd lining the highway. Still no kids. She was starting to feel better.

  NATHAN HAD CAUGHT A RIDE to the fire with his father, getting a free pass to the action. Gina had understood and sent him on his way. Seth had indeed chosen well in the date department. He just hadn’t chosen what Nathan really wanted. Nate hated to think about what that was, because once he admitted it, he was going to have to deal with it—until she left town. And then he had a sneaking suspicion he was still going to be dealing with it.

  “You all right?” the old man mumbled without looking at him.

  “Yeah.” But his fingers were unconsciously kneading his thigh. He shoved his hand in his jacket pocket. As soon as they got to the fire, John jumped out of the pickup and headed toward the fire truck, pulling on equipment as he walked.

  Garrett stopped next to the pickup in the sheriff’s office vehicle. “Shit,” he said in a low voice. “They’d better not lose this one.” He looked behind him, up toward the highway, where people were already parking, some firefighters, some not. “Keep an eye on Dad. I’ve gotta do crowd control…Oh, cool. Look who’s here.”

  Nathan could tell from Garrett’s tone exactly who was there. Callie. He wondered if Dane was with her. A quick backward glance, and yeah. He was there. Even at this distance Nate could recognize the two of them standing side by side, near Dane’s pricey car. But the Neon was parked next to it.

  Nathan felt a sense of grim satisfaction. Dane had followed her. They hadn’t arrived together.

  IT TOOK ALMOST half an hour for the firefighters to get enough of a handle on the blaze to send one of the BLM trucks back to the bay. The other remained, just in case. An older and heavier John Marcenek was directing the crews. It had taken Callie a while to recognize him, but once she zeroed in on Nate, she’d realized who the man with him was. She did not like that man, pretty much because he made no secret of not liking her.

  Denise was also there, geared up and in the center of the action. Callie was impressed at how efficiently she worked, appearing to know exactly what needed to be done and where at every step of the operation.

  “Are you going to stay much longer?” Dane asked with a glance at his watch.

  That was her cue to agree that the fire had been diverting entertainment, but it was now time to leave. “Afraid so,” she said. “Why don’t we call it a night?”

  Dane raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.” Callie smiled up at him, although the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Can’t help myself. I’m a journalist to the core and I want to be where the action is.”

  And she didn’t want to leave with him.

  “Can’t fault you there,” Dane said. And since it was pretty obvious there would be no good-night kiss or make out session or whatever he’d hoped for, he smiled awkwardly before turning and walking back to his car.

  Callie was so damned glad she had the Neon. Dinner with the group had been…unusual, but she wasn’t ready to spend the rest of the evening with Dane.

  Single women might be few and far between in Wesley, but she didn’t need him all but planting a flag on her and claiming “mine.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE FIREFIGHTERS FINALLY secured a perimeter around the abandoned feed plant and then, aided by a wind shift, they began to get the upper hand on the blaze. The smoke now rolled toward town, away from where Nathan and Garrett stood beside the idling BLM truck, but his eyes and nostrils continued to burn. A few yards away, Seth was performing his paramedic duties, treating one of the firemen who’d stepped in a hole and wrenched a knee, and his father was in rare form at the engines, bellowing orders and running his crew.

  Garrett suddenly cursed and Nathan turned to see that a number of fire groupies were edging closer. Some of the residents of the small housing development on the hill above the plant, most of whom had been at the Crab Feed, had made their way down to the parking lot and were standing in a scraggly line where sage met gravel.

  Callie was there, too, off to the side. It occurred to Nathan that that was how she led her life, observing from the periphery. The basketball coach was nowhere in sight. She hunched her shoulders and wrapped her arms around her middle as he watched, rubbing her palms over her upper arms, her gaze shifting from the fire to the crowd, which was growing rather than shrinking. The night air was sending chills up Nathan’s back even though he was wearing a blazer, and Callie only had on a sleeveless black dress. Yet still she stayed, shivering. Why? And it was crazy, but he felt an urge to walk over to her and simply wrap his arms around her, warm her by holding her close. Many years ago he could have done that. It killed him to admit it, but he missed those days.

  She glanced over at him then, and for a moment they studied each other across the distance that separated them. He had never known anyone else who could connect with him like she could. As if they could read each other’s minds if they tried hard enough.

  “I’m pushing the crowd back,” Garrett said, breaking into Nathan’s thoughts. “Go shoo Callie home.” His brother smirked as he spoke, telling Nathan that he’d caught the two of them staring like star-crossed lovers. Shit.

  Nathan crossed the distance to her.

  “You need to go home. There’s the potential for volatile substances to react with the fire.”

  She twisted her mouth sideways in a dubious expression. “For real? Or are you making that up to get me out of here?”

  “Both.”

  Callie held her ground. “Is the fire manmade?”

  “We don’t know yet.” Nate gestured to where the Neon sat on the highway above the parking lot and asked, “Where’s your dinner date?”

  “He went home.”

  “Separate cars?”

  “You know me,” she said. “Sharing a car is too much of a commitment.”

  “Why’re you here, Cal? All these other people have houses close by.” Part of him wondered if she’d come to escape her date. She hadn’t appeared to enjoy her companion for the evening as much as he’d enjoyed his.

  “I came to see if those little kids next door showed up.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  She shrugged. “Denise told me she’s seen them at other fires and this one is close.”

  Nate tilted his head. “Do you think they’re junior arsonists or something?” he asked, trying to see where she was going with this.

  “No. Like I told you before, I don’t think
anyone is taking care of them at night. I think they do as they please and I think the boy is interested in either fire or firemen.”

  “So you’re gathering evidence?” Or attempting to, since the kids weren’t there.

  “I’m concerned.”

  “Just because you haven’t seen the grandma—”

  “There are no lights on in that place, Nate. Except the television every now and then. And the kids show up at fires.”

  “So do a lot of people.”

  “I guess.”

  “Go home, Callie.” She was shivering even worse in her skimpy dress, and there was no reason for her to be there. “The kids aren’t here.”

  “Nate!” Seth sounded uncharacteristically panicked. Nathan stumbled as he turned toward the voice, his injured leg giving out with the unexpected movement. Searing pain shot through his knee, but he didn’t stop moving. Garrett raced past him from the direction of the parking lot and Nathan followed as quickly as he could, wincing with each step. Their father was leaning heavily against the fire truck, halfheartedly fighting off Seth and another paramedic.

  “Are you all right?” Callie asked from behind Nate. He hadn’t realized she was following him.

  “Fine,” he replied without looking at her.

  “Go back to the parking lot, Callie,” Garrett commanded when she and Nathan reached the small group of people surrounding his father.

  Callie ignored him. “What’s wrong with John?” she asked Nathan.

  “Blood pressure.” He hoped. “Controllable if he takes his medication.”

  “Why wouldn’t he take it?”

  “Makes him irritable,” Nathan muttered.

  “One would never notice,” Callie murmured, as John cursed Seth and the other paramedic, trying to push them back.

  “Go home, Callie.” Garrett stepped between her and Nathan. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  “No need,” she said through her teeth.

  “I insist.”

  “Call him off,” she said to Nathan, then turned and stalked across the lot and up the trail to her car.

  “DAMN IT, I’M FINE.” John took a few steps toward the rear engine, looking very much as if he was about to wrestle control of the fire crew from his second in command. Nathan took his arm, stopped him cold in spite of his dad outweighing him by a hundred pounds.

  “You’re not fine,” Nate growled. “You’re going to the emergency room.” His father sent him a baleful look and attempted to snatch his arm away. He failed, which worried Nathan. “You have to go. You’ll need a medical release to continue fighting fires after this.”

  Seth nodded in agreement, quickly backing away from their dad. The air seemed to go out of John Marcenek. His shoulders dropped as the reality of what Nathan had said sank in.

  “Dr. Kitras owes me a favor,” Garrett said. “We’ll see if we can get you in tomorrow, but tonight we’re going to the E.R. and making sure everything is okay.”

  “Whoopee,” John muttered, but he started walking toward the passenger side of his truck. There wasn’t much else he could do. Garrett opened the door, earning another cranky look, and Nathan got into the driver’s seat.

  “Seth and I’ll be there as soon as we can,” Garrett said.

  John turned his head as if he didn’t hear a word. Nathan started the truck and they drove to the clinic in silence.

  The doctor had John checked over before either Garrett or Seth arrived, and pronounced him out of any immediate danger. However, if he didn’t stay on his medication, he was looking at a possible heart attack or stroke. Not what John Marcenek had wanted to hear. Nathan called his brothers and they agreed to meet at the house. Their trucks were there when Nate and John pulled up.

  Together the three followed their dad into the immaculate kitchen. John had never been particularly tidy before, but apparently retirement did strange things to people.

  “You can go home now,” he said to Nathan. “I’m going to bed, so one watchdog will be fine.” With that he walked down the hall to the room he’d once shared with their mother.

  Garrett and Nathan exchanged silent looks, then Garrett went to the cupboard over the refrigerator and pulled down the bottle of Scotch. Nathan shook his head. “Not tonight,” he said. “I twisted my leg and I might opt for a painkiller instead.”

  “This kills pain,” Garrett muttered, pouring a shot.

  “Yeah. You might want to save some for after you take Dad to see Kitras tomorrow.”

  “Will do,” Garrett said glumly. “How bad’s your leg?” The limp was obviously getting worse.

  Nathan ran a hand over the thigh, even though it was his knee that had been injured. “It’ll be fine. When you have only a few muscles to begin with, it really has an effect when you strain one.”

  “I guess. Let me know if I need to finagle two appointments tomorrow. I’m sure Kitras will see both of you at once.”

  “Can’t. Too much work to catch up on.”

  Nathan’s leg was throbbing when he got home, but he decided against the bottle of white pills in his medicine cabinet, and followed Garrett’s lead. He splashed two fingers of amber liquid over a single ice cube in a crystal glass, then on impulse added another finger. What the hell. This stuff couldn’t make him any groggier tomorrow than the conventional painkiller. And it tasted better. He probably should have shared a drink with Garrett, but his brother really would need all of that bottle to deal with their father.

  Nate was so thankful right now that Garrett was the brother living next door to their dad.

  He picked up a framed photo Seth had given him last Christmas, taken on a father-son fishing trip in Alaska when the brothers had been in their early teens, six months after the death of their mother. They each held a humongous salmon. Garrett was smirking at the camera, looking like the hellion he’d been at the time, and Seth beamed like a puppy dog, the look that hid his natural propensity toward getting into every kind of trouble imaginable, some innocent and some not so much. Nathan looked like the brother who wanted to please. The brother who tried to hold things together in a family that had just lost their mother.

  Carelessly, he set the photo on the coffee table and then settled on the sofa, staring across the dark room.

  What was going to happen if he decided to leave town? Was it right to leave his brothers to take care of their dad? Would his dad even care if he left?

  Why did he feel this urge to move on? Was this how Callie felt? Did she just get the urge, and instead of weighing pros and cons slowly, as he did, simply act on it?

  He wasn’t that way. He wanted to know what he had available to fall back on. He liked to plan.

  He’d heard that that very afternoon Callie had called a real estate agent—Joy’s cousin—for a consultation. The wheels were in motion to sell the house, which meant she would probably be leaving town. It wouldn’t be long before Callie was out of his life. Out of his thoughts.

  Yeah. He really could fake not caring until she left town. No sweat. He took a sip of Scotch, feeling the burn as it hit the areas of his mouth and throat still irritated from smoke inhalation. He didn’t mind the burn.

  What an evening. He’d started out nervous about going out with a woman, even if it was a lame group date, and had ended up stinking of smoke and going home as alone as he had left. Not that he’d planned to go home with Gina, because as pleasant as it had been talking to her, it wasn’t going anywhere. There was no spark. And he’d been thinking about Callie and that freaking basketball coach the entire time. Insane.

  Callie made him insane. He sipped again.

  He saw a flash of headlights in the window and then heard the sound of an engine turning off. Nathan put the crystal glass to his forehead. He recognized the distinctive knocking noise in the Neon’s engine.

  “It’s open,” he called when Callie knocked, adding in an undertone, “Come on in.”

  She did, pausing for a moment, taking in the scene—Nathan sprawled on the sofa, the drink i
n his hand.

  “How’s your dad?” she asked as she closed the door.

  “He’d gone off the meds again. I think this time he learned a lesson.”

  She walked the rest of the way across the room, stopping inches from his toes. He glanced down at his jeans, wondering if she could see the difference between his thighs under the worn fabric. She followed his gaze momentarily before bringing her eyes back up to his face.

  “You hurt yourself at the fire.”

  “I wrenched my knee.”

  “Can I sit down?”

  “It’s late.”

  “It’s not even midnight.” He didn’t invite her to sit, though.

  “I heard you put the house on the market.”

  “I’m in the process. It’s time.”

  “Do you always know when it’s time?”

  “Always.” She picked up the photo he’d left on the coffee table and studied it.

  “So, it was time when you left here last?”

  She looked up from the photo, obviously uncomfortable. “That was different.”

  “How?”

  “I was reacting to something I didn’t understand back then.”

  “Do you understand it now?”

  “I understand it’s the way I am. The way I’m wired. My father was the same way—”

  “—according to Grace.” Nate finished the sentence with her. They’d been over this before, back in high school, only at that time, Callie hadn’t thought she was wired the same way as her father. She’d needed to believe then that he hadn’t been able to help himself. Now she was telling herself she was the same way, giving herself an excuse to leave whenever she felt the urge. Avoid any kind of commitment.

  Maybe she was wired the same way as her father. Nathan didn’t know. He stared at what was left of his Scotch, which he was now drinking too fast. “So you’re just going to spend your life moving from place to place?”