Mandy smiled through hard times. She’d smiled when he pushed her about fire safety. What hardships had she been through that had taught her to smile like that? Could one bad parent have done that to her?
It was none of his business. He was an idiot, and he’d almost kissed her.
It had to be because he was worried about being a dad. Or not being a dad. And worried about Hannah. And his own father. He was isolated, stressed out, occasionally angry and in need of an outlet.
Heck, he could be the arsonist!
The screen door behind him slid open. He waited to hear Sparky’s nails click slowly across the patio. He heard human footsteps instead.
“I’m worried about your father.” His mother sat on the picnic bench near him.
Which guilted Ben into getting off the table and sitting on the bench, too. Mom didn’t let people sit on her kitchen counters either. “Dad keeps saying he’s fine.”
“We both know that’s a lie.” Mom pulled up the collar of her robe against the evening chill and glanced up at Mandy’s moon. “I can’t wait for the end of fire season. The air quality is horrible. Your father shouldn’t even be going outside.”
The wildfire season in California had at least another ten full weeks. “He’d breathe easier with a cannula,” Ben said, only half joking. He propped his elbows on the table.
“Someone would notice him dragging around an oxygen tank,” Mom said, only half-serious.
Had Dad been in on the conversation, he’d have been telling them he didn’t appreciate their jokes. He’d puff up his chest and be the man with no emotion.
“I’ll encourage Dad to stay in the truck and wait for backup.” And Ben would hope for no more brushfires. If the fire had been set by one of the maintenance crew the post office had sent for one day, they’d have no more fires.
“We’ll keep trying alternative treatments to clear his airways and increase his blood flow.” She stared up at the night sky. “Why haven’t you put a volunteer program in motion?”
“Turf wars. The current and retired fire chiefs are arguing over who should recruit and train them. And I haven’t pushed it because volunteers would notice Dad’s health isn’t what it should be.” Those in the tight-knit fire community might let Dad slide. He was well-known up and down Sonoma County, having served as the union president. But civilians? They’d wonder. And wonder led to talk. And talk would lead to questions from the mayor and the town council.
“Volunteers won’t notice your father’s health if you train them,” Mom pointed out.
Another responsibility landed on Ben’s shoulders.
“I appreciate your doing this.” Mom’s voice was transitioning in tone, from matter-of-fact to matters of the heart; shifting gears from business to family dysfunction. “I know you and your father haven’t been close.”
“He was never home to get close to.” Dad’s first love was firefighting, not family.
“He pulled extra shifts for us, so we could afford things like a nice house and a second new car every few years.” It was her standard argument.
Ben would have preferred a smaller house and a used car if it meant his father had spent more time with him. “It was easier for him to say he was a dad than to be one.” Perhaps because Keith wasn’t around a lot, he didn’t hug. He rarely gave out praise. And he’d never shown up for Ben’s games or school events.
Now his younger brother, Mike...that was a different story.
“In any case, this can be a new beginning for both of you.” There was both a plea and a rebuke in her words. “I just...this is harder than I thought it would be. On all of us.” She began to stand and then sat back down. “What’s wrong? You’re very subdued. Still worried about the DNA test?”
He refused to look at the moon.
“Ah.” Mom chuckled. “Your father told me about the postmaster. Nice girl. Not an arsonist.”
“I know she’s not an arsonist, although...I didn’t exactly tell her that.”
“Oh, Honest Abe. Not again!” Mom covered his hand with hers. “How many times do I have to tell you the correct answer to Does this dress make my butt look big? is always one hundred percent flattery. Women don’t want to hear the truth, especially not yours.”
Her words stung. “You’re saying I should lie to women.”
“I’m saying the truth sometimes hurts. Did you want to hurt the postmaster’s feelings?”
“No. I just...maybe I wanted her to be more careful. So she doesn’t look guilty.”
“No one should live their lives trying not to look guilty of something they aren’t guilty of in the first place.” She patted his hand.
Mom was right, but that didn’t change anything. “Can we end this conversation?”
“Of course.” Mom tightened the sash of her robe. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll fix it.”
“Mother.” His annoyance was a live thing, lifting him to his feet. “It doesn’t need fixing.”
But she didn’t answer.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THERE WAS A man waiting for the bakery to open at 4:20 a.m.
Mandy had been walking fast in her postal uniform and a windbreaker, intent upon getting to the bakery when it opened at four thirty, but she slowed when she saw the man because it was still dark and she was alone.
The light from the bakery window illuminated a man in uniform with a trim waist and broad shoulders. It was Ben, looking put-together and handsome for this ungodly hour of the morning. In a battle of uniforms—hers and his—his would win, hands down.
In a battle of sensitivity, she’d take him. Didn’t see her breaking eggs and kinda-sorta accusing acquaintances of crimes.
Inside the bakery, a petite blonde woman scurried around a large set of glass cases. The rich smell of coffee drifted on the air, along with the warm smell of sweet treats.
“Good morning,” Ben said, unable to ruin his handsome image with so much as a crack in his voice. Guys like him should get a zit every once in a while. “So you are a coffee person.”
“I’ve been known to indulge.” Hugging her windbreaker tight around her chest, Mandy sat on a wrought iron chair next to a small table and yawned. Between his accusation and her overactive imagination regarding his interest in kissing her, plus Mom’s note, she’d catalogued every crack in her ceiling last night. “What do you need coffee for? You look wide awake.”
“Just got off a call.” Upon closer inspection, there were dark circles under his eyes. Would that they came from guilt over his use of not really. “But now I need caffeine.” He put his hands together, as if holding a coffee cup. He glanced inside the bakery.
Birds were singing in the town square; perky, predawn-loving birds that had more in common with Ben than with Mandy. She was always her worst in the morning.
“Shouldn’t you just go back to bed?” Mandy would, if given the choice.
“I’m awake.” He shrugged. “I’m a morning person. You?”
“Mornings are part of the job.” She yawned again. “Of course, that makes my afternoons free for naps.” Not that she ever had time for naps, but a girl could dream.
Her traitorous eyes drifted to Ben’s broad shoulders. She yanked her gaze to her sneakers.
“I can nap at the fire station all day as long as no one calls 911.” His lips twitched. Was he gloating?
She decided he was. “What’s the likelihood of that happening today?”
“Sadly, slim to none,” he said ruefully.
That seemed to exhaust their small talk. They both stared at the blonde setting up the bakery for the day. The bird-song silence stretched. Mandy decided she’d rather hear Ben’s voice than chirpy birds.
She racked her tired brain for a topic of conversation that wasn’t related to fire or fire inspections. �
��How’s your dad?”
Ben shifted from friendly neighbor to fire inspector mode. “The chief’s in better shape than your post office.”
“Down, boy.” She’d found a target and she hadn’t even taken aim. “You’d think I’d accused Keith of something like embezzlement or arson.”
“You’re right.” Ben held up both hands quicker than a bank teller at gunpoint. “Let’s not toss accusations at each other.”
The quick way Ben backed off gave Mandy pause. Was Keith seriously ill? It was more common nowadays for people to work while going through health challenges, like cancer.
Before she spent too long pondering the state of Keith’s health, Ben said, “I’d like to apologize. Consider the phrase not really retracted from our history of conversation.”
Mandy sat back in her chair.
Sincerity in his voice? Check.
Sincerity in his eyes? Check.
Sincerity in her reply? She supposed this meant she’d have to do her best.
“I’m sorry, too,” she said, meaning it. “Chalk up that statement about your dad to a lack of caffeine and early-morning insensitivity. I’ve spent too much time in hospitals the past few years. It makes me assume when I see things. Keith looked pale, and that could have been because he had bad sushi for lunch.” Although there was no sushi place in Harmony Valley.
She stank at small talk before her first cup of coffee. Why wasn’t the bakery opening?
His posture eased. “Have you been sick?”
She shook her head. “If anything, I’m too healthy.” And she felt guilty for it when Olivia had been through so much.
“Your grandfather then?” His gaze was warming, softening. “I’d heard he’d passed.”
Mandy hesitated before answering, trying to decide how much to say about Olivia, who valued her privacy. “My grandfather was in and out of the hospital, and my—”
The bakery door opened. The perky blonde welcomed them with a sweeping gesture. “Hey, peeps. I’m Tracy. Are you...” She took in their uniforms and grinned. “Are you going to be early-morning regulars?”
“Definitely,” Mandy said, entering first at Ben’s urging. “My shift starts at five o’clock. I had no idea you opened this early until Ben told me your hours.”
“Signage,” Tracy murmured with a shake of her head. “There’s always something more to do around here. Wait a minute.” She scurried in front of Mandy. “I know you. Mandy Zapien. I’m Will Jackson’s kid sister.”
“I remember you.” The class sizes at Harmony Valley High had been very low when she’d attended. Everyone knew everyone, including Tracy. Plus she’d gotten into a spot of trouble with Will and a few others once.
“Madame Postmaster.” Tracy dipped her head as if Mandy were royalty. “We’ll have to catch up. Maybe we can nab Will and Emma, too. They got married. First baby due any day.” She grinned at Ben. “You were here for our fire inspection. It’s Ben, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He trailed behind Mandy and tapped her shoulder, and then pointed at Tracy. “She passed her inspection.”
Mandy reached the counter and scowled at him.
“I’ll be a regular whenever you’re open,” Ben said cheerfully. “My shifts go for twenty-four hours.”
“We close at four. The plan is to offer dinner someday.” Tracy was a chatterbox, just like always. She moved behind the counter. “A few more people in town. A few more workers. It’ll happen.”
They each ordered dark roast, black coffee. Tracy pushed for a purchase of a horseradish-lemon scone, but Mandy resisted (I mean, horseradish!). Instead, she selected a sugar cookie shaped and frosted like a mermaid. While Tracy bagged her choice, Mandy drank deeply from her cup of coffee and contemplated her day. It was better than thinking about Mom or Ben, both of whom unsettled her. Thinking stressed her out. Action helped alleviate stress.
Last night, she’d plugged Grandpa’s cell phone on the charger. She’d discontinued his service a long time ago, but kept the phone just in case she’d need the contacts in it. Maybe she could head Mom’s visit off at the pass. If only she knew which of Grandpa’s phone numbers was the one he’d used to check up on her.
And Ben? Her best option was to pass his fire inspection and move to another house. The first she hoped to satisfy in the next day or so. And moving? Well, that might take a bit longer.
She told Tracy she’d see her tomorrow morning and left.
“And...” Ben followed her out the door. He’d purchased only a coffee, which explained his flat abs.
“And what?” Mandy said with early-morning sharpness. She took another sip of coffee. It was strong, but she’d need a few more minutes for the cobwebs to clear completely.
“Before we came inside...” Ben cupped his palm over her shoulder and then ran it down her arm, dropping away at the elbow.
Mandy couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t do more than replay the warm feel of his hand on her arm. Maybe he did want to kiss me last night.
Mandy resisted the urge to run her hand from her shoulder to her elbow the way he’d done.
“...you mentioned your grandfather,” he continued as if he hadn’t thrown her off balance. “And implied someone else was in the hospital.”
Feeling his eyes upon her, she sipped her coffee and wondered if she’d finally reached the limit of her ability to keep everything inside. She didn’t tell people her problems because she wanted to pretend everything was perfect. She didn’t tell people her problems because she was better able to keep moving forward without the drama of telling and retelling, and thanking people for pitying her.
But this? What harm would it do to tell him?
“Right after Grandpa died,” Mandy began slowly, “Olivia was diagnosed with cancer. She’s cancer-free now, but if you ask her how she’s doing, I’ll deny I ever mentioned it. She doesn’t want people to treat her like she’s sick or is different in any way.”
Ben sipped his coffee and stared toward the town square, not in a hurry to leave.
Mandy, on the other hand, had places to go and feet that were restless to take her there. He’d touched her! She had a ton of guy friends, including ones she’d worked with in Santa Rosa, and they’d never touched her like that. She had no idea what to do about the intimacy other than to pretend it hadn’t happened.
She eased her foot a few inches back.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” Ben said slowly, not looking at her; perhaps not even talking to her. “We all just want to be treated as if we’re normal. Not of weak health or skill set. Not too young or too old.” His gaze drifted to Mandy the way a kayak comes leisurely around a gentle river bend. “What we want and what’s possible don’t always mesh. For all kinds of safety reasons.” His deep blue gaze stopped her from taking a full step back.
She couldn’t move, because he knew. Ben knew how Olivia felt. And maybe he understood how Mandy felt sometimes, too. Cracked inside, but able to go on because people treated her like it was any other day if she smiled and kept it all in.
In that moment, in the gray light of dawn, on an empty sidewalk, with those darn birds singing like this was going to be the best day on the planet...Mandy felt less alone, less jaded, less guarded, less held together by duct tape and the occasional prayer.
She nodded, smiled, considered touching his arm. Didn’t move a muscle.
He nodded, smiled and walked away.
* * *
LIFE WAS SUPPOSED to be good.
Olivia Zapien wasn’t convinced.
At seventeen, she was supposed to be part of a loving family with a caring, hovering mother. She was supposed to have marched across the stage for her high school graduation. She was supposed to have her act together as she embarked upon this grand adventure called life.
She’d had an adventur
e, all right. And her tour guide for the last eighteen months had been called Cancer.
Yep, Mom had listened to Olivia’s diagnosis—anaplastic large T-cell non-Hodgkin lymphoma—blinked and asked in a startled voice, “What?”
“Cancer,” her sister had said with a grim smile, her arms wrapped around her waist.
Mom hadn’t said another word. Not on the car ride home. Not during dinner. Not when Mandy sat in the Grumpster’s recliner with Olivia in her lap as if she was six, not sixteen. The next morning Mom was gone, and neither Olivia nor Mandy had heard a word from her since. Not until that note.
It was Mandy who’d helped Olivia through chemo—twice—who bought her a floppy yellow hat, a bright blue wig and a box of nail polish. She’d held Olivia’s hand through the discomfort of stem cell harvesting and later the stem cell transplant. She’d cried along with Olivia when Dr. Abadie said she was cancer-free and had taken her for ice cream afterward.
Whereas Mom had no words, Mandy had lots. She used words like think positive, be brave, when you’re recovered and now that you’re a survivor.
Survivor? Olivia wasn’t sure she deserved that label. What if the cancer came back? Dr. Abadie wanted her to return for testing every six months. Olivia wanted to be tested every day. Really. Every day. She shaved her legs every day. Why not check for cancer with the same frequency?
When she’d mentioned it to Dr. Abadie, he’d exchanged a look with Mandy that said daily wasn’t an option.
Mom... Olivia knew Mom loved her. She’d doted on Olivia when she was around.
One time in group therapy, Olivia had talked about how Mom wasn’t brave enough to face death with her, but that she still loved her. The circle had grown quiet. Someone had asked Olivia if that was a cop-out. She’d wanted to say that no one was perfect, but that seemed insensitive given the circle was made up of teens who’d lost hair, had swollen moon faces from the killer drugs they were taking or had lost limbs to cancer.
But it’d made Olivia think. Maybe if she hadn’t been so focused on herself when she’d been diagnosed, maybe if she’d reassured Mom that she’d live, maybe Mom wouldn’t have left. Maybe it was her fault that she and Mandy and Mom weren’t one big happy family now that the Grumpster was no longer in the picture.
Love, Special Delivery Page 10
