by Marta Perry
She didn’t like the hollow feeling that thought produced.
The argument ended with a clatter of dishes as everyone began clearing while Siobahn brought coffee in. The telephone rang. Perhaps no one but Nolie noticed how white Siobhan’s fingers were as she set the tray down carefully.
Gabe picked up the receiver, and his face relaxed in a grin as he said Seth’s name. After a few joking comments, he hung up.
“Nice, smoky tire fire at that lot out toward the Randallstown road. No injuries, but they’ll all smell like burning rubber for a while.”
Siobhan’s relief came toward Nolie like a wave of emotion.
Thank you, Lord.
She suspected they were both thinking the same thing, but apparently the Flanagan way of dealing with worry was to ignore it or joke about it. That had to wear on a person after awhile, and Siobhan had had years of it.
“Coffee, Nolie?” Gabe’s gaze seemed to warn her not to say anything about Seth’s call.
“No, thanks.” She glanced at her watch. “I hate to eat and run, but the animals have to be fed, too.”
He nodded. “I’ll wait and have my coffee at the cottage, then. Mom, we’re going to head out.”
“Just a second.” Siobhan fished in the pocket of the loose cardigan she wore. “I nearly forgot to give you these.” She handed a prescription vial, filled with orange tablets, to Gabe. “I picked up the refill on your medication. You must be almost out.”
Gabe’s expression didn’t change as he took the vial and slid it into his pocket. “Thanks, Mom.”
Nolie said her goodbyes, went down the walk and started the car with a preoccupied mind.
Gabe’s medication, his mother had said. His seizure medication, the medicine he should have been almost out of. But she’d seen the bottle on the kitchen counter at the cottage, and it was still more than half full.
She didn’t like her conclusion, but it was inescapable. Gabe wasn’t taking his seizure meds.
She’d wait until they were clear of town traffic. There was no sense in courting an accident by starting what was undoubtedly going to be a quarrel.
Once they were on the two-lane macadam road that led to the farm, she couldn’t hold back any longer.
“You’ve stopped taking your seizure medication, haven’t you?” She gripped the steering wheel as if it were Gabe’s shoulders and she was shaking him.
“No.” He shot the word back in instant denial, but he didn’t look at her.
“Don’t kid me, Gabe. I’ve seen the medication vial at the cottage. Your mother said you should be almost out. You’re not.”
He had one hand pressed against the dash. If the car hadn’t been moving, he’d probably have jumped out. “All right. Not that it’s any of your business, but I started cutting down on the medication. It’s time I went off it.”
“According to whom? Your doctor didn’t tell you to do that, did he?”
“If I’m not having seizures, I don’t need medication.”
She really would like to throttle him. “You may very well not be having seizures because of the medication. Has that thought occurred to you?”
He shook his head stubbornly. “I don’t need it. It’s time I got back to normal. I can’t return to work if I’m taking seizure medication.”
She hadn’t thought of that. “Are you sure? If the seizures are under control, it’s possible taking the medication wouldn’t be a bar to going back to work.”
The stubborn set of his jaw said that he didn’t intend to discuss it. “I don’t know. And I don’t plan to find out. I’m doing fine on a reduced dose.”
“I see.” She saw several things, and she didn’t like any of them. “When were you planning to let me in on this?”
His glance gave her the answer to that one. Never.
“You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”
A muscle twitched angrily in his jaw as he gritted his teeth. “You’re not responsible for my medical well-being.”
“No. I’m just the one you asked to talk to the fire chief about your readiness to return to work. Remember that?”
“I’m not asking you to lie.”
“No. Just to omit the little fact that you haven’t been taking your medication the way you should.”
“Look, if I’m getting along fine taking a lower dose, doesn’t that prove I’m ready to go back? I don’t need—”
He stopped, but she knew what he’d been going to say. He didn’t need her or her program.
He was close enough to her in the car that she could reach out and touch him. But he was farther away than ever. He didn’t intend to let her help him, and there was probably nothing she could do about that.
“I’ve never been here, so I can’t vouch for the food.”
Nolie glanced toward him as they approached the small restaurant in Randallstown the day after they’d visited the station. He tried to muster a smile in return.
“I can eat almost anything for lunch. It’ll be fine.”
He didn’t say what they both knew. That she hadn’t wanted to go to a little local place near the farm, where everyone already knew about her work. She’d wanted more of a challenge for this outing with Max. She’d suggested a popular place right in downtown Suffolk. His no had been quick and emphatic.
He wasn’t going to appear with the dog and a handler in a place where he could very easily run into someone he knew. He looked down at Max, walking sedately at heel. He’d convinced Nolie not to put the vest on the dog. Max might appear to be a pet to any casual observer.
Nothing personal, Max. But you should be with someone who needs you. I don’t.
So they’d settled on a restaurant neither of them knew in the nearby town. His relationship with Nolie seemed to be one long compromise.
He held the glass-paned door for her to precede him, and Nolie walked in without a word. She’d been giving him the silent treatment except for necessary instructions since their blowup the night before about his meds.
His irritation still rankled, and he shot a look toward her as they waited for the hostess. Nolie’s pale blond hair was loose on her shoulders today, and she’d worn an aqua sweater that made her eyes look more aqua than blue. Days spent in the spring sunshine had brought a glow to her skin that hadn’t been there the first time he’d seen her.
He’d thought her plain then. What had been wrong with his eyes? She was anything but. Her face might be too strong to be called conventionally pretty, but it had a classic look that would last a lot longer than prettiness.
The hostess came hurrying toward them, heels clicking. “Sorry.” She flipped her dark bangs, automatically giving him the look she probably gave every presentable man who walked in. “Two for lunch?”
He nodded. “Nonsmoking, please.”
She picked up two menus. “This way—” She stopped abruptly halfway around the counter and stared at Max. “You can’t bring a dog in here.”
He knew what he had to say. Knew, too, that Nolie would stand there as long as necessary until he said it. He gritted his teeth.
“Max is a service dog. He is permitted to accompany me to any public place.” He tried to say it with the same assurance Nolie did.
“I don’t know.” The hostess still looked doubtful.
He took a deep breath in order to force the words out. “You can’t legally deny access to a person who relies on a service animal.”
Whether it was the legal implication or not, he didn’t know, but after a moment she nodded, then led them to a table in the half-filled dining room. He held Nolie’s chair for her, and her hair moved like silk against his forearm as she sat down.
He took the seat opposite her, and Max lay down quietly next to him.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Nolie’s gaze was serious.
“No.” He realized he’d clipped the word off and shook his head. “Sorry. I’m just not used to this.”
She didn’t bother to say the obvious—that getting u
sed to it was the whole purpose of the exercise. Max was probably better prepared than he was.
He picked up the menu and sought for words to ease the situation. “Do I order something for Max?”
“He’s working. Max doesn’t eat on the job.”
Heavy footsteps sounded on the tile floor, drawing his attention. The heavy, balding man who headed toward them wore a chef’s apron and a scowl. He rumbled to a halt next to them and glared at Max.
Gabe’s tension went up a notch. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped.
“You can’t bring a dog in here.” The man’s tone didn’t allow for argument. “There are tables out on the sidewalk. We’ll serve you there.”
His impulse was to agree to anything that would get this awkward moment over, but he knew better. And if he didn’t, Nolie’s look would tell him everything he needed to know.
“Max is a service dog.” He kept his voice low. He had no particular desire to advertise to the rest of the restaurant. “You can’t deny access to someone with a service dog.”
The man’s face reddened. “Listen, I don’t need you to tell me the law. Law says I have to let people in with seeing-eye dogs, okay, I do it. But you got two good eyes, and I don’t want that dog in here.”
If Gabe’s jaw got any tighter, he wouldn’t be able to speak. “People use service dogs for other disabilities besides blindness.”
He should say that he required the service of a seizure dog. That was what Nolie expected. He couldn’t.
“You don’t look disabled.” The man’s voice rose, and people at other tables began to stare. “Now take the dog to an outside table or leave. I don’t have to serve anybody I don’t want to serve.”
He felt Nolie’s gaze on him, expecting something from him he couldn’t give. All he wanted to do was to shove his chair back and walk out. He couldn’t do this, and she might as well know it.
“You’re wrong.”
Apparently she did. Nolie’s voice was not loud, but it was as determined as the restaurant owner’s.
“You can’t deny service to a disabled person, whether that person is accompanied by a service animal or not.”
“He doesn’t look—”
“Whether or not a person looks disabled is not the point.” She swept on, passion filling her tone. “According to the Americans with Disabilities Act, you don’t have a choice. Mr. Flanagan is accompanied by a seizure-alert dog. If you refuse to serve us, our next step will be to report that this restaurant is in violation of the law.”
On second thought, maybe he’d rather crawl under the table. Anyone in the restaurant who hadn’t been looking at them before was looking now. He didn’t know whether he was angrier at the lout of an owner or at Nolie for making a scene.
The man glared at them for a second longer. It hung in the balance. Then he turned and lumbered away. At least he was smart enough to know when he was defeated.
Gabe waited until people had returned to their interrupted meals. Until he could trust himself to keep his voice low.
“Did you have to do that?”
Her brows lifted. “Of course.”
Of course. He planted his hands on the edge of the table. “Now that you’ve made your impassioned speech for the day and won, let’s get out of here.”
“We can’t do that.” Her expression was sympathetic but unyielding.
“Why not? You’ve proved your point.”
She glanced around, as if to be sure people weren’t still watching them, and then leaned across the table to put her hand over his. Her fingers gripped his firmly.
“We can’t walk out. If we do, that man will feel as if he’s won.”
He glared at her. “Do you think I care about that?”
She seemed to withdraw, even though she didn’t take her hand away. “You should. Do you want it to be Danny they refuse to serve next?”
He wrested his hand free. “Isn’t that hitting below the belt?”
“Not if it makes you realize the responsibility you have when you walk into a restaurant with a service animal. You’re representing every other person who relies on one. You can’t leave just because it’s a little unpleasant.”
She wouldn’t say the unpleasantness was little if she were the one who had to admit to a disability. Or maybe she would. All he knew was that he couldn’t.
“All right.” He ground out the words. “I’ll stay.” He pushed on before the look of relief could take over her face. “But understand this, Nolie. I might not have a choice about being your test case for the foundation, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be a poster boy for your program.”
Her lips compressed. “I know. You don’t think you need Max or the program. You’re never going to have a seizure again.”
“That’s right. And if it’s not—” He stopped. He didn’t want even to admit the possibility, but he had to make her understand how strongly he felt. “Even if I’m wrong, that doesn’t change how I feel. I don’t know how I’d deal with it, but I do know I wouldn’t go around advertising the fact by working with a dog. I won’t do it.”
Gabe had looked at her as if he’d hated her. That memory made Nolie’s steps falter as she walked toward the cottage that evening. She clutched the folder she held a little tighter. Maybe he did.
Her practical side swept that thought away. Self-pity is not becoming. Gabe doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t feel anything for you.
Maybe that was even worse. Still, she couldn’t expect anything else. If she and Gabe had met in any other circumstances, they’d have had nothing in common. Because of how they’d met, they had something huge in common, but that something seemed to be an irrevocable barrier between them.
The spring evening air was so soft and misty it was like walking through a cloud perfumed by roses and lilacs. Too bad she was too nervous about what she had to do to enjoy it. She pushed herself toward the cottage.
Her rap on the cottage door sounded peremptory. Well, good. She’d hold on to any shield between them she could.
Gabe opened the door, Max at his heels.
“Nolie. Hi.” His tone was cautious, his gaze a bit wary. Maybe he felt ashamed of his outburst, but if so, he’d never admit it to her.
“I have something for you.” She held out the folder, prepared to turn and leave.
He stepped back, motioning her inside. “What is it?”
“A copy of the Americans with Disabilities Act.” She moved into the cottage, bracing herself for battle. “I know you don’t want it. You don’t care about it.”
He closed the door. “I didn’t say that, exactly. I said it didn’t apply to me.”
She had to tell him what she’d come to say, not let her gaze dwell on the innate strength of his features or his determined stance.
“Look, even if you’re healed, even if you never have another seizure, this is something you should know. If not for your sake, then for the sake of kids like Danny. You can’t pretend problems don’t exist.”
“Not after today, I can’t.” His face tightened, and she wasn’t sure what he was thinking.
“If you’re still angry with me—”
He shook his head abruptly. “I’m not. I’m angry with that jerk at the restaurant. You were right. If he’d treat me that way, he’d treat other people that way.”
A trickle of relief went through her. At least Gabe seemed to be thinking.
“It happens, more often than it should. Things are better than they used to be, but they’re far from perfect.”
He put the folder down on the lamp table. “I’ll read it. I promise. I’ll even make it required reading the next time I teach a training seminar at the station.”
“Thank you.” Gabe’s concession wasn’t an admission the Act applied to him, but it was probably the best she’d get. “The fire department could probably use a refresher course.”
His face relaxed in a smile, and he leaned his hip against the back of the sofa. Max, apparently deciding noth
ing interesting was going to happen, flopped down on the rag rug inside the door with a sigh.
“The guys would probably find it a welcome relief from the latest lectures on analyzing building stress or fighting chemical fires.”
If he was prepared to talk normally with her, she had to encourage him. “I didn’t realize fighting fires was so technical.”
“I know. You civilians think all you have to do is point a hose and turn on the water.”
“Well, I did know there was a bit more to it than that.” Still, she was probably as woefully ignorant of his work as he was of hers.
“Training, training and more training. So when the real thing comes along, you know what to do by instinct.” The humor faded gradually from his face. “It has to become instinct. When the alarm goes, you don’t know whether you’ll be hosing down the highway after a tanker spill or making a grab from a high-rise apartment building.”
“A grab?”
“Firefighter talk for rescue.”
It was the most he’d ever talked to her about his work. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted to understand.
“Have you done that? Actually rescued someone?”
He shrugged. “A few times. That’s probably what every kid dreams of when he thinks of being a firefighter. Rescuing someone from a burning building. It’s actually a matter of luck as much as anything. You have to be at the right place at the right time.”
“And if you’re not—”
“Then someone else does it. But you always want to be in on it. That’s what you live for, if you’re a firefighter.”
That was what Gabe lived for. Her heart overflowed with the longing to give him back what he’d lost.
“I know how much you want to get back to your real life. Believe it or not, that’s what I want for you, too.” She reached out toward him almost instinctively, and his fingers closed over hers, sending that now-familiar wave of warmth through her.
“Do you, Nolie?” His gaze held hers, searching, as if he were looking into her heart and seeing all the secrets she held there.
“Yes.” It was barely more than a whisper. She shouldn’t let herself be drawn to him, certainly shouldn’t open herself to him. That could only lead to heartbreak, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “I understand how important fire fighting is to your family.”
