He turned onto Mercy’s street. Her house would save him soon from the diarrhea of the mouth he was experiencing.
“What is it about that generation? You said something back in the kitchen about them.”
“Oh look, we’re here,” he said, putting his truck in park in her driveway.
Mercy ignored him and said, “I’ve always had a thing for World War II era movies, and costumes.” She lifted her arm and even in the dim light, he could see a classic Rosie the Riveter tattoo on the inside of her bicep. Her sleek, toned bicep. Again he was reminded of how incredibly hot she was, and he started sweating in his tight suit.
“That’s freaking cool,” he told her. “I have a B-52 right here.” He patted his right shoulder.
“Shut up, are you serious? Let me see it.”
He was not going to take off his shirt in front of her. “Some other time,” he said, considering turning it into another date, but for now he didn’t want to subject either of them to his ignoramus dating skills.
“Rosie is one of my faves,” said Mercy. “She was one of the first I ever got, and one I’ve never regretted.”
JFK wanted to ask if she’d had regrets about the other tattoos since she’d been in recovery or if they were part of her recovery, or if she’d ever thought about getting any of them removed. He wanted to talk about World War II and find out who her heroes were and what movies she liked from then. They were finally having a good time together and starting to connect.
It scared him. “Oh yeah,” he said. “I’m supposed to open your door, right?”
“Oh, okay, yeah.”
JFK climbed out and walked around to her side of the truck. As ridiculous as this silly custom seemed, it was satisfying to do it. Not unlike taking the time and effort to cook a good meal for someone. It was a little thing, but it was important. Hadn’t she said practically the exact same thing about manners? He was actually getting it. It wasn’t just a stupid waste of time and a patronizing system of complicated games between men and women. Man, he’d blown it with her tonight.
JFK paused with his hand on the door handle. He wanted to change and be different. Not for Mercy—he didn’t have a chance with her and didn’t think he ever had. It was because of her that he wanted to be a better person, to know how to treat a woman right, and it was because of her that he thought he might be able to actually pull it off. The thought of someone actually transforming their life and not just acting like they were going to change was so foreign to him. But she’d done it. He knew nothing about her dark past, but he knew that now she was someone he’d give anything to be around. Too bad he’d never have another chance with someone like Mercy. That would be enough to push him over the edge and make changes in his life for real.
He tried to open the door gently. He didn’t know if that was a thing or not, but it couldn’t hurt at this point. When it was all the way open, he held out a hand for her, but turned his head away to avoid seeing any parts of her amazing body she didn’t want him to see as she made her way out of the truck. Then he closed the door gently. Had he heard somewhere that that was a thing a gentleman was supposed to do, or was he just making it up?
“Hey,” he said, “I’m sorry things didn’t go better tonight.” There was a lot more that he was feeling about wanting to be better and wanting to change, but he kept it in. If it actually happened it would be for someone other than Mercy.
“I was enjoying our talk just now,” she said. “People aren’t always who they seem. You’d think I’d learn that by now.”
JFK put his hands in his pockets. There had been enough awkwardness for one night so he wasn’t about to walk her up to the door. Down to her door, actually.
“Yeah,” he said, unsure how respond or how to end the date.
“Yeah,” said Mercy, wrapping her bare arms around herself.
“Get inside before you freeze,” he told her. That was a gentleman thing to say, right? There was no reason for her to stand there and turn into a popsicle.
“You, uh, are supposed to walk me to the door.”
“Oh!” Dang it. Failed again. Just what he’d been trying to avoid. He started up the driveway and heard her coming up behind him. “Watch out, this spot right here looks a little slick.”
“Good thing I wore my boots with traction,” she answered.
A small porch light was on over her door and as Mercy came down the steps, JFK took the opportunity to admire the epic beauty who would—hopefully, possibly—inspire him to change his life.
“Let me, uh, open the door for you.” He reached for the handle and found it locked.
Mercy was holding up the keys.
“Am I supposed to unlock it for you, or do you got it?” Even though it made him look stupid, it was better to ask and offer right?
“I got it.” Mercy slid the key into the keyhole, and put some effort into it to get it to turn. Then she hit the latch and pushed the door open.
“Thanks, JFK,” she said.
“Thanks,” he said and hurried up the steps and back to his truck. As soon as he was out of eyesight he pulled off his uniform coat, loosened his tie, and undid the top button of his shirt. It was about twenty degrees outside but he was burning up.
No matter what it took, he could never let himself fail that bad again. So it was either learn how to not be a social retard or give up on actually spending time with a real woman again.
Inside his truck, JFK pulled out his phone and texted Emily. He needed professional help. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed Dom.
Chapter
On Saturday, Mercy woke up even earlier than she needed to for her AA meeting, unable to sleep she was so excited about the job interview at Two Hearts Rescue. Jen, one of the women Mercy sponsored, picked her up for the meeting and gave her a ride home afterward. Mercy still had time to go over possible job interview questions and even texted Uncle Dom to see if he knew Poppy Powers through the firefighters at all and if he had any advice on interviewing with her. He didn’t respond; maybe he was in flight.
Some of the Jewell family members had shunned Mercy back when she lied, stole, and cared about nothing but getting wasted. Some had accepted her back, but some acted like they never would, her brother Justice first and foremost. But Uncle Dom, the youngest of the eight aunts and uncles had been there for her when she needed it. The worst she had ever done to him was steal about six bucks worth of change out of his car. It was still excruciating to think about, and it was minor compared to many of her countless indiscretions. But as part of Step 9 she’d confessed what she’d done and given him seven bucks in quarters. He didn’t want the money, but he was gracious enough to accept it to help her heal, and since then he’d treated her with nothing but respect.
It had been almost two years since she’d handed over those quarters and she wished she could scrounge up that much right now. Before the Homecooked Holiday meal she had put ten bucks of gasoline in her car, which was pretty much everything she had.
There were people she couldn’t turn to and there were people she didn’t want to turn to. After ruining everyone’s trust so horribly, any attempt to beg or borrow money, rides, or food was suspicious. Sobriety could start with one single day, but those bonds of trust didn’t change overnight.
Her phone rang, which only reminded her that in a week the phone bill would be due and she wouldn’t be able to pay it. If things didn’t go well at Two Hearts Rescue today, it would be fast food chef for her. Maybe JFK could give her some tips.
“Hey Clover,” said Mercy.
Wasting no time, Clover said, “I heard you had a first date last night. I want to be your go-to on this one.”
Mercy had heard that her cousins were fighting to be the relationship advisor for the extended Jewell family. “You’re going to make me choose between you and Zinnia?”
“First of all, you don’t have to choose, just accept my services since I called first. Second, I’m already advising Uncle Dom and Emily and sinc
e this one is connected through the fire department, I’m the natural choice. Third, I’m killing it with Uncle Dom and Emily. And my little sis is too busy being a newlywed. She’s off her game.”
“Sold,” said Mercy.
“Yes!”
“Don’t get too excited. It’s not going anywhere.”
“Details,” said Clover, “and remember, it’s completely confidential. Even Uncle Dom and Emily will know nothing.”
“Shoot,” said Mercy, “so many people in and out of the family already know so many secrets about me, I don’t even care.”
“Okay, okay, give me details.”
“He’s really handsome in a Tarzan kind of way. Like I want to grab the front of his shirt and hold on while he swings me around on vines.”
Clover interrupted to say, “I’ve seen him. Definitely has a hit-or-miss face. Not a lot of women will be on the fence about his looks. Kind of like a Norman Reedus or Owen Wilson.”
“I know Owen Wilson, he’s the funny actor, but who’s Norman Reedus?”
“Daryl Dixon from The Walking Dead.” Clover made a purring noise.
Mercy couldn’t care less what other people thought but she didn’t say that. “We aren’t compatible. He literally knows nothing about manners. It’s not that he knows and doesn’t do it, he doesn’t even know that he’s expected to open doors and other simple things like that.”
“I heard about the chair at the Fireman’s Ball.”
“What happened to confidentiality?” asked Mercy.
“Doesn’t apply at all. Uncle Dom is allowed to tell me about things he sees and does. But anything personal between you and your guy stays between us.”
That made sense. Mercy went on. “Unfortunately I like a little bit of bad in my boys, but I’m still a Jewell and I can’t see any of us being compatible with someone who doesn’t have a basic understanding of manners.”
“Did he treat you badly?”
“No. He just doesn’t know how to treat a woman right. It sounds like his childhood was seriously messed up. No modeling of positive behaviors whatsoever.” That was all Mercy would say about that. JFK was allowed to have his own secrets.
“No chance things work out with him?” asked Clover. “Is he completely hopeless?”
“There was a point at the end of the date when we actually started to connect. There were no other firemen around, and he had dropped his tough guy, no-feelings act. It was at the end of the date and I wondered for a second, but he pushed me away out of the blue. I was going to invite him in to talk more—” she didn’t know whether Clover believed that she only intended to talk, but it was true—“but he dumped me in the driveway and tried to shoo me inside. I had to tell him he was supposed to walk me to the door.”
“Sooo,” Clover drew out the word, “ten percent chance?”
“Five, but only because I’m optimistic today because I have a job interview.”
“I heard about that. Full disclosure.”
“Word travels fast in this family.” No one knew that better than Mercy.
“I’m not going to push you into a relationship with a guy who’s no good, but I want to test the waters with this one a little more. Cool?”
“Cool. I wouldn’t complain if you found a brain donor, or some sort of gene therapy that would instill basic manners.”
In a confident voice, Clover said, “I have something simpler planned.”
Mercy didn’t want a lot of effort expended, or any crazy cupid attempts. “You won’t embarrass me right? I mean, you’re like an agent, right? Required to act in my best interest?”
“Yep. Agent Clover. I’ll call you later, now go rock that interview!”
“Thanks, Clover.”
Mercy checked the clock. 11:30. Past time to go. Due to the sketchy condition of her car, she always allowed herself plenty of time to get places so that in case of mechanical failure she had time to make other plans.
In a conservative long-sleeve shirt, jacket, and jeans, Mercy went out to her car. She put the key in the ignition, said a little prayer in her heart, and turned the ignition. It cranked twice then ground to a halt.
“No. Not today.” It was bound to happen sooner or later, but why today? “Please, God, I need this job. Please just help me get there.”
With much more faith than the first time she’d tried, she turned the key. Click, click, click. She wasn’t going anywhere, not in this car.
As tears came to her eyes, she pinched the coin hanging around her neck and said, “Serenity to accept the things I cannot change.” But why today? She owed her sobriety and every good thing in her life to God, but why did He let life kick her when she was down like this?
“Serenity,” she reminded herself, and let out a controlled breath.
What next? Call Two Hearts Rescue and tell them she’d be late? Before she even got the job? No way. Not until she tried anything else possible.
“Start walking.” Mercy grabbed her purse and did just that. Her Maps app said she could walk there in 42 minutes. That was better than not going at all, so she picked up her pace, determined to shave some precious minutes off. The bicycle her parents had bought her for college had been sold off years ago to pay for one intense night of partying. How many bottles of wine had she and her friends pounded that night? Her friends. What she wouldn’t give for just one of those bottles of wine back on a day like today.
No, that’s not what she needed or wanted. She needed to walk faster and reach out for help. But why was it hardest to reach out when she needed help the most?
Jen had gone in to work at Applebee’s already. Bridgett, another woman she had sponsored, was out of town. Mercy’s sponsor, Andrea, had flown back to New Mexico the day after Mercy got her coin.
She had about a hundred extended family members in the area, but she was trying to build trust and respect with them. How would it look if she couldn’t even get herself to an important job interview? Word spread like the Plague in the Jewell family so she dismissed them all.
Calling a taxi or an Uber were out of the question—her purse was empty.
The Maps app said she’d made up one minute. Instead of being twelve minutes late, she’d only be eleven minutes late. If she kept up this pace, she could be there by about 12:08. That wasn’t good enough.
Mercy started to run.
Chapter
From the front seat of his Tesla, Dominic Jewell watched JFK walk to his truck, climb in, and drive away. When JFK had called him late last night and asked for some help, it had felt like a setup for a prank. Dom and JFK got along fine, but there was a constant battle between them to be the more manly of the two.
But it had been for real. Dom was surprised when JFK actually showed up for breakfast this morning, surprised when JFK ordered oatmeal and OJ, and completely flabbergasted when he asked Dom to teach him manners. JFK! One of the most insensitive decent people Dom had ever known. So for the last two hours, he’d taught an impromptu Manners 101 class. No, it was more basic than that. Manners for Dummies, and when it came to etiquette and chivalry, JFK was the biggest dummy in the world.
And at the end of the session, JFK had thanked him politely, paid for both meals, left a generous tip, and in a voice so gentle that it bordered on sarcasm, he asked Dom to please keep their meeting a secret for a while.
Stunned, Dom had agreed without even thinking about Emily. Surprising Dom again, JFK had volunteered that it would be okay to tell Emily if he swore her to secrecy.
A ringing phone startled Dom. He looked down at the caller ID, pushed Accept, and said, “Hey, Clover.”
“Hey, Uncle D. You still planning on popping the question soon?”
“Setting it up, but I’m not giving you any more details. No one is going to know anything until Emily knows.”
“I can’t wait!”
Dom could picture her little elfish face scrunching up in pleasure.
“So, Uncle D, I have a favor to ask.”
“Shoot.�
�
“You know Emily’s firefighter buddy, JFK?”
Oh boy, where was this going? “Yeah.”
“And you know he and Mercy, of course you do, you were there.”
“Uh huh.”
“What would you say to taking him under your wing? Showing him some manners?”
He couldn’t say anything about the meeting that morning. “I don’t know, Clover. If you woulda seen him there last night. Short of calling her names and exposing himself he couldn’t have been a worse date.”
“That’s what I’m talking about, Uncle D. I think things might just work out between them if someone like you helped him out.”
Dom sighed audibly into the phone. “You know I’d do anything for Mercy. She’s been through a lot and I for one think she could use some Jewell family love.”
“I love that girl,” said Clover.
“I can’t force a guy to change. Or even suggest it. He’s …” Dom was reaching a bit, but he needed to keep his word to JFK while not lying to Clover. “It’s not just that. I’ve seen him around the station and Emily has told me about him. It’s like he purposefully says things to offend people.”
“Hm,” said Clover. “That isn’t encouraging. I just have this feeling that there might be something there.” There was a lull, as if she wanted to say more.
“But confidentially, so you can’t tell me anything else.”
“Yeah,” admitted Clover sounding defeated. “Is he a bad guy? Am I making a mistake if I do anything to get them together?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” said Dom. “There’s this little old lady he helps a ton, and he’s always the first one to show up to help guys at the station with projects or moving or whatever.”
“Okay. Do me a favor and think about helping him out.”
That was something Dom could do. “You got it. If I come up with anything, I’ll let you know.”
They hung up and Dom let out an anxious breath. It was effort enough getting everything ready to propose to Emily. How Clover and Zinnia stayed so involved in everyone else’s relationships, he had no idea.
Rescue and Redemption: Park City Firefighter Romance Page 6
