by Cathie Linz
Excusing herself, she laid down her paintbrush and went in search of Corky, who was getting lunch ready in the kitchen.
“Did Jack ever tell you how he broke his leg?” she asked Corky.
If the older woman was surprised by Kayla’s abrupt question, she showed no sign of it. Instead her eyes were slightly shadowed as if with regret. “All he’d ever say was that he got clumsy.”
“He broke it saving a little boy.”
Corky’s smile was both wistful and proud. “That doesn’t surprise me.”
“It doesn’t surprise me, either. That’s not the point. The point is that he should have told us the truth. He shouldn’t shut out the people who love him.”
The importance of what Kayla had just admitted hit her with the power of a fist. She loved him! She loved Jack, her husband and a man who’d lost his faith in happy endings, at least when they applied to him. A man who by his own admission “didn’t do well with love.”
Jack had only wanted sex, and yes, the sex had been great, incredible in fact. But love was something else. Something that took hold of your heart and wouldn’t let it go. Something she felt and Jack didn’t. He’d married her thinking she understood that he didn’t want emotional entanglements.
“That’s the way he’s always been,” Corky remarked sadly, leaving Kayla wondering if the older woman had somehow read her mind.
Kayla’s anger, which had been simmering since she’d had to rely on Boomer to tell her about her own husband, boiled over. “Well, he’s married now and by God if I can learn how to paint trim and hang wallpaper, Jack can learn how to trust those of us who love him. He trusts his coworkers, so it’s not like the man is totally incapable.”
Cheerfully waltzing in the back door with a six-pack of Irish ale under one arm, Jack said, “Incapable of what?”
Kayla replied by socking him in the stomach, not hard enough to hurt him by any stretch of the imagination, but with enough force to get his attention.
“What was that for?” he demanded in the aggrieved voice of a man who had been wronged by a woman.
“For not telling us the truth!” Kayla righteously replied.
“About what?”
“How you broke your leg,” Corky inserted. “I think I’ll leave you two here in the kitchen to settle this. I’ll go check up on Ashley. There’s no telling what could happen if Sean lets her have a paintbrush.”
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Jack said as soon as they were alone.
“Boomer told me the truth. About how you broke your leg saving a little boy’s life. About your nickname. I learned more talking to him for five minutes than I have living with you for nearly a month and knowing you three times that long! Do you have any idea how stupid I felt? I’m your wife and I didn’t even know how you really broke your leg. He told me you were rescuing a little boy when the floor gave way beneath you. He said you did that at considerable risk to yourself and broke your leg in the process.”
“Let me get this straight. You’re mad at me because I saved a kid’s life?”
“Of course not. I’m angry with you for not confiding in me. Why would you want to keep something like that a secret?”
“I didn’t keep it a secret. Boomer and the rest of the guys knew.”
“Only because they were there. Why are you so afraid of opening up to me? How do you think it makes me feel when you shut me out? Why won’t you talk to me, tell me things, like how you really broke your leg, or what happened your first year as a firefighter that affected you so deeply?”
In an instant his face went blank, although his gray eyes darkened with some emotion she couldn’t name—fury or torment or both. Then they became shuttered, locking her out and his thoughts in. “This isn’t really about how I broke my leg,” he growled. “This is about me fighting fires. You’ve never liked that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The fact that I’m hooked up with a woman afraid to light plain matches.”
Hooked up? His words stung like poisonous arrows.
“Well, let me remind you of our agreement,” he continued, his voice vibrating with emotion.
Determined not to let him see how much his earlier words had hurt her, she said, “And which agreement was that?”
“The one where I promised you sex and security and you promised not to interfere with my work,” Jack bluntly reminded her.
“I’m not trying to interfere.”
“Sure you are. But it won’t work. I’m not going to change, I warned you that.”
“But things have changed. You’re married now. You’ve got responsibilities, people who love you. You shouldn’t be taking the wild risks that you took before. Does being a firefighter mean more to you than being a husband?”
“Yes.”
The single word was like a gunshot, tearing through her heart.
“So you just stick to your end of the bargain and I’ll stick to mine,” he growled, storming out of the kitchen and leaving her alone.
Sex and financial security—that’s what he’d promised her. Not love. Never love.
Ten
With a houseful of company, Kayla couldn’t give in to the urge to pull the covers over her head and cry for a week or two. Instead, she stayed in the kitchen a few minutes in an attempt to gather up her shattered composure.
Her movements were automatic as she made herself a cup of tea. Focusing on that prevented her from giving in to the tears that threatened, prickling the backs of her eyes with their insistent demand. If she started crying now, she was afraid she’d never stop.
Pressing her hand against her chest, Kayla felt as if she’d actually been physically injured, but the damage had been done to her heart and soul. Jack had made his feelings very clear, wounding her with the bluntness of his honesty. Being a firefighter came first with him, and she’d better not get in his way.
She tried to whip up some fury, but this time anger didn’t come to her rescue. Eventually, pride did. Lifting her chin, Kayla wiped away the solitary tear that had escaped to trail down her cheek. She wasn’t going to make a nuisance of herself. Falling in love with Jack was her problem, not his. They’d made an agreement, an agreement that didn’t include love, and she should abide by it.
Sometimes a woman wants to change a guy. She remembered him saying that, when he’d proposed to her. And he’d just reiterated the fact that he had no intention of changing. He’d flat-out warned her that love wasn’t in his vocabulary. For once, he hadn’t been kidding.
“Are you okay?” Corky asked as she hesitantly entered the kitchen.
Had Corky overheard their argument? Had she heard him admitting that he valued his job over his wife? The older woman’s look of concern made Kayla frantically wonder how much she knew. “Did you hear us fighting?”
“No. But I was here when you socked him one, remember? Not that he didn’t deserve it. But I didn’t hear you fighting. No one did,” Corky reassured her. “Not with all that racket of hammering and general mayhem going on in the living room.”
“It takes a special kind of woman to cope with this, with having a husband who is a firefighter,” Kayla decided.
“That’s probably true.”
“And I’m not special,” Kayla added unsteadily.
“Now that’s not true. You most certainly are special,” Corky declared. “You fight like a tiger for those you love. Are you telling me you’re not willing to fight for Jack?”
“All I ended up doing was fighting with him. He loves fighting fire.”
“Yes, he does. And you love Ashley. Just because you love one thing doesn’t mean you can’t love another.”
“How did you cope with Sean being a firefighter all those years?”
“You just have to have faith.”
“I’m not very good at that,” Kayla admitted.
“Then you’ll need to work on it,” Corky said. “But don’t give up.”
“It’s hard not to give up wh
en Jack just told me that being a firefighter was more important to him than being a husband.”
“You two were fighting. Never expect a man to admit his true feelings in a fight. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in twenty-five years of marriage, that’s it.”
“Your marriage is different.”
“And why is that?”
“Jack didn’t marry me because he loves me.”
“Of course he did. He might not say the words, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t experiencing the emotion. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“I’m not denying he wants me.”
“There’s more to it than that. Jack has wanted women before,” Corky said bluntly. “He never married one of them.”
“He was trying to protect me,” Kayla huskily admitted.
“From what?”
“From the custody suit Bruce took out to get Ashley. Jack thought that my being married would improve my chances of keeping Ashley.”
“Balderdash!”
Of all the reactions Kayla might have anticipated from Corky, this wasn’t one of them. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Balderdash. Jack might have told you that’s why he was marrying you, he might even have convinced himself of that, but believe me he’s not as altruistic as that. He married you because he wanted to.”
“He doesn’t want to love.”
“I agree.” Corky’s eyes were shadowed with regret. “He doesn’t want to love. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love. We both know how stubborn Jack can be, but as I told you once before, he does come around in the end.” The regret was replaced with determination. “And in this case, I think maybe you can speed up the process a little.”
“How?”
“By fighting fire with fire.”
Kayla mulled over Corky’s words as she rejoined the others, but by the time they finished working late that night, she was too beat to fight anything or anyone.
Jack had worked like a fiend, clearly determined to finish the project today. It was almost as if he had something to prove.
Kayla had something to prove, too. Several things, in fact. She just alternated between which way to go. On the one hand she didn’t want the fact that she’d been foolish enough to fall in love with Jack to blind her to reality. And the reality was that Jack didn’t want her love.
On the other hand, she wasn’t positive that was reality. What if Corky was right? What if Jack really did love her, even though he was too darn stubborn to admit it yet?
So what should she do? It seemed to her she was at a crossroads here. She could continue to be “the woman who was afraid to light plain matches,” as Jack put it. Or she could take her future in her own hands.
Jack was asleep when she got out of the shower. It was nearly midnight, and he’d worked hard getting the skylight installed. And he was right, it did open up the room and make it lighter. Was he right about the rest, too? Had she broken their agreement? Did he long for the days when he wasn’t answerable to anyone, when he had a half dozen women with rhyming names calling him on the phone?
Kayla remembered when he’d proposed to her, he’d said he wasn’t looking for forever but that it had kind of come and knocked him over the head. That’s what love had done to her. Knocked her over the head, but good. Had love done the same to him? That was the question.
Kayla didn’t know, yet, what she was going to do about falling in love with Jack. The only sure thing she had to hold on to that night was to focus on the reason for this marriage. Ashley.
“So where’s that new husband of yours?” Bruce asked as he came to pick up Ashley for his weekend visit the next day, Saturday.
“He’s at work.”
“I see he finally got the skylight finished in here.” Bruce looked around the room and nodded approvingly. “Not bad.”
Kayla couldn’t believe her ears or eyes. Bruce was actually smiling at her affably, and he’d said something nice. Maybe miracles did happen, after all!
“You’re in a good mood,” she cautiously noted.
“I just got some fantastic news.”
“You got a promotion at work?” She suspected it had to do with work because it was the only thing Bruce really got excited about. Strange how she’d married two men married to their jobs.
“No, this isn’t about work,” Bruce replied. “It’s about Tanya. She’s pregnant.”
“What?”
“We finally got lucky. She’s about three months along. We never suspected, not after all this time. And me being a doctor.” Bruce shook his head and smiled. “I don’t think she’s ever going to let me hear the end of it.”
“How does this affect Ashley?”
“Well, she’ll have a baby half sister or brother.”
“I meant the custody issue.”
“Tanya and I have decided to drop the suit.”
Kayla almost sank onto the floor. The relief was overwhelming.
“It would be too much for Tanya to take care of Ashley full-time, what with her being pregnant and all,” Bruce continued. “So I called my attorney last night and told him to drop the suit.”
Just like that? It was over just like that?
Kayla was stunned. The custody fight was over.
Now the tension was between Kayla and Jack.
After Bruce and Ashley had gone, Kayla vacuumed the remaining plaster dust from the living room and brooded over what to do about Jack. Ashley adored him. So did Kayla, which made it hard for her to deal with the very real danger he faced as a firefighter. And him refusing to confide in her only made it worse.
When she’d first met Jack, he’d been on medical leave, and even the month they were engaged, he hadn’t returned to full active duty yet.
But now he had. She knew how much he loved his job. She knew he was good at what he did. But she also feared that he took risks he shouldn’t. Something was driving him, haunting him, and she didn’t know what it was. It might have something to do with his parents’ death in that car accident, but she couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t be sure of anything where Jack was concerned. But she aimed on finding out soon. Real soon.
Jack felt the adrenaline pumping through his system as powerfully as the water pumping through the two-and-a-half-inch hose he held, aimed at the living, dancing wall of fire.
He wasn’t fighting this battle alone. His partners were all around him: Sam at his back, Boomer beside him and Darnell behind Boomer.
They were crouched down low where the air was cooler, cooler being a relative term. The heat was still intense, permeating every pore of his body even through the fire-resistant turnouts he wore. In an attempt to protect his skin, he’d buttoned his coat collar tightly around his neck and pulled the gauntlets of his gloves up over the cuffs of his coat.
Jack kept his breathing steady, conserving his strength and the air in the SCBA on his back. The hellish red glow of the fire was reflected in their face masks as they beat the fire back. It fought to stay alive, one darting flame leaping up the wall, another dodging over the far doorway.
But Jack was ruthless in his pursuit of the she-devil. He kept the one-inch nozzle open and on target, rotating the foglike spray in a counter-clockwise motion until it killed the fire.
A thumbs-up motion from Boomer congratulated him. It was the only moment of celebration they allowed themselves before moving on to the next step of searching for any pockets of fire or embers that might still be deviously hiding behind the walls or up in the ceiling, just waiting in smoldering anticipation to start things up again.
Thirty minutes later Jack stood outside and inhaled cooling drafts of air. Fresh air. And then he smiled, exhilarated and utterly exhausted at the same time.
He saw a similar look of tired triumph on Boomer’s soot-streaked face.
They’d done it. Beaten another fire. This one had been in an abandoned building, but it had put up a fierce fight before surrendering.
As Jack shared that moment of victory with his com
rades at arms, he wondered why Kayla couldn’t understand that what he did was important. Sure the building had been abandoned, but they’d rescued two teenagers who’d been holing up in the building. Two more lives saved.
He made a difference here, and that gave his life purpose and meaning. Without that he was lost. His work was who he was, it was so simple. Why couldn’t Kayla see that?
Back at the firehouse a few hours later, the guys sat around the break room, waiting for the next alarm to go off. Those who weren’t watching the latest action-packed blockbuster movie on cable TV were discussing the ways of the world and of women in particular.
Jack started the dialogue. “What is it with women? How come they always have to try and change a guy?”
Since half the men there were divorced, he was speaking to a sympathetic audience. “I hear you, buddy,” said one guy.
“The problem is that women are obsessed with love,” another stated. “We’re obsessed with fire.”
“Except for Sam. He’s also obsessed with those filthy cigars of his,” Boomer inserted, his voice muffled by the handful of corn chips he was in the process of chewing.
“Hey, if you want to talk filthy, what about those magazines in your locker?” Sam retorted.
“I read ’em for the articles.”
“Yeah,” Sam said with a Groucho Marxlike wiggle of his bushy eyebrows. “And we know which articles those are. The really well-developed ones, like most of Jack’s girlfriends had.”
“Jack had the perfect life, and then he went and got married,” one of the divorced men said.
“It wasn’t all that perfect before,” Jack muttered.
“I can’t be worrying about this kind of stuff when I’m fighting fires,” one man said. “I’m already worrying about taking out doors, hauling hoses, carrying out John Doe who was stupid enough to smoke in bed. I’m thinking about pulling ceilings, ventilating a roof...”
“Yeah, that’s what Jack did at his place. Ventilated the roof and pulled out the ceiling. Only he didn’t do it because of any fire. He called it home improvements,” Sam noted mockingly.
