“John acted like he influenced the rise and fall of foreign countries.” Ben rounded the fire engine and stomped the length on the other side. “He acted like that was more important than Hannah. Can you believe it?”
Ben didn’t expect her to answer. He paced. He ranted. He blew off more steam.
Mandy sat on the front bumper of the fire truck, willing to give him five more minutes of support before she left.
Ben came around from the side, and she knew the moment she saw his face that the hard edge of truth had finally hit him. The rage was gone. He looked drained.
“Tell me he’s not me.” Ben sank onto the bumper next to her.
“He might be a little you.” A gentle tease encased in truth.
Ben dropped his head into his hands and groaned.
“He’s dedicated to his career. He’s a perfectionist.” She rubbed Ben’s back. “And he’s scared of being a dad.”
Ben groaned again. But he didn’t argue. “Thank you for staying.” He lifted his head and his tortured gaze.
“I think you’ll find staying is harder than leaving.” She hadn’t enjoyed bearing witness to the exchange. “But I couldn’t leave. You promised me a pager.”
Ben blinked. Focused on her face. Shook his head. “I’m not changing my mind about Hannah, so it’s back to business.”
“Yes.” She removed her hand from his back. “I won’t lie. I was hopeful you’d change your mind, for Hannah’s sake. And maybe a little for my own.” Way to pathetically lay it on the line.
They stood, neither willing to compromise.
“It is what it is.” He led her to the common area and rummaged in a cupboard until he found a pager and a charger. “On a positive note, you didn’t break any eggs when you broke up with me.”
Oh, eggs had cracked. She just wasn’t going to tell him. “For the record, there was no us to break. It was just a kiss.”
“Me and Mr. Moon.” He held her gaze. “We beg to differ.”
* * *
OLIVIA SAT OUTSIDE Giordano’s waiting for Mandy’s lunch order when he appeared at the corner and walked toward her with a long, easy stride. He wore blue jeans and another stained T-shirt.
She pretended to check her cell phone, watching the dude walk toward her from the corner of her eye.
“Hey, mail girl.”
He was talking to her.
Olivia’s insides turned as she did. “Hi.” My name’s Olivia. What’s yours? She couldn’t get the words out.
“I’m here to pick up lunch for the office.” He flashed her a wide grin. “I’m Ryan.” He offered to shake her hand as she introduced herself. His hand swallowed hers. “Nice seeing you again, mail girl.”
She had a nickname. She wanted to squeal. Unless...he’d forgotten her name already. “Hope your lunch is ready.”
Hope your lunch is ready?
She was such a dork.
The restaurant door behind her closed. Olivia wanted to run away. She stayed put.
“Where’s that sister of yours?” Utley had snuck up on her from the other end of the street. He put a sandaled foot in the gutter and leaned forward on his other leg.
“Mandy should be here any minute. She’s driving up from Cloverdale with the mail.” Giordano’s was having a lunch special, and Olivia had offered to treat Mandy to lunch with her paycheck. She was heartbroken over Ben, not that she’d admit it.
“The post office never got shut down when I worked there.” Utley sounded like he needed to gargle.
Olivia cleared her throat and stared at her phone. Utley was like the Grumpster. He intimidated her. She glanced up.
He was still standing there.
“Okay, bye,” Olivia said. She was getting a high rating on the lame-o scale today. She looked back down at her phone.
Thankfully, Utley shuffled off.
The door opened again. Olivia turned to say goodbye to Ryan.
He sat down next to her.
Next. To. Her.
She had a wedding dress picked out and everything.
“I added a pizza to my order.” Ryan rubbed his hands on his jeans. “They don’t always have pizza.”
Olivia stared at him with her mouth open. He’d sat next to her. He wanted to talk. Neither one of them said a word. He was gazing across Main Street at Martin’s Bakery. She was staring at his long dark hair and wondering what it would feel like if she touched it.
Say something. Say anything!
“Your hair is longer than mine.” Not that. Olivia slumped, but there was nothing to slump behind.
Ryan laughed. “I’m cheating.”
She looked at him to see what joke she’d missed.
His brown eyes sparkled like ice-cold root beer. “Every August we winemakers grow our hair long.”
She forgot about hair. “You’re a winemaker?”
He bumped her shoulder the way Mandy sometimes bumped her shoulder. “Don’t sound so disappointed, mail girl.”
“I’m not disappointed, I...” She had to get a grip. “Okay, I’m disappointed. There’s no one my age around here. I thought you were in college.”
He drew back and studied her. “Are you in college?”
“No.” She felt her cheeks heat and hoped she didn’t look like a tomato. God, she wished her hair would grow. “I’m going to cosmetology school soon.” Just as soon as she turned eighteen and collected her inheritance from the Grumpster.
“Did you just graduate? In June?”
She nodded. “I didn’t walk. I took the test.” She rushed on. “I missed a lot of school because...” Suddenly, she didn’t want to tell him she’d been sick.
But Ryan knew. He took in her short hair and slightly puffy cheeks. “Oh.” His grin slipped just enough for her to notice. “You’re okay now, though.”
“Yes,” she said firmly, like Mandy always did.
“My mom has had cancer three times. Each time was harder than the last.” The way he said it, he didn’t believe she’d survive a fourth round.
A shiver ran up Olivia’s spine. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, standing because the door to Giordano’s had opened and the woman who’d taken her order was looking at her, bag in hand. “I’m sorry,” she said again.
But she wasn’t sorry that his mother was sick. Her sentiment applied to herself.
Because no matter what Dr. Abadie and Mandy said, she was going to die from cancer. Cancer didn’t strike once. It came again and again, until you were dead.
* * *
“FOOD.” MANDY COLLAPSED into a kitchen chair. “Thanks for the treat. I don’t have time to do more than nibble.”
“You just got here.” The sandwich wrapper from Olivia’s lunch was crumpled on top of the tile-topped kitchen table next to a wadded napkin and a soda can. The teen was bent over the table painting white skull and crossbones on her black nails.
“Now that I’m just a mail carrier, I have to report in before lunch, after lunch, at break and when I’m done delivering the mail.”
“Did they put a GPS tracker on you, too?” Olivia blew on her nails.
“I’m lucky to still have a job. Taking the Harmony Valley position was a risk.” A stupid, sentimental risk. They were worse off than before. The commute to Cloverdale was going to require a lot of gas.
“You got demoted and I got laid off. It was a stupid move.” Olivia was rarely so harsh, itching for a fight. “Speaking of which, are we moving back to Santa Rosa? Or is your mistake permanent?”
“Did something happen today? Are you feeling okay?” Had Olivia had another nosebleed? Was she having stomach pains? Headaches? Unable to concentrate?
Olivia opened a bottle of clear-coat polish. “This is as good as I get.”
There was d
rama in the air. “Shouldn’t you be going next door to babysit?”
“I’m thinking of calling in sick.”
The urge to break some eggs rose up unexpectedly. Mandy lost her appetite. “Olivia, that’s irresponsible. You’re not sick.”
“But I could be. I wouldn’t know.” She stoppered the polish and met Mandy’s inquisitive gaze. “That guy I met at the post office? Ryan? His mother had cancer three times.”
Here we go again.
“You aren’t going to get cancer again.” Knock on wood.
“Don’t lie to me!” Olivia slapped her palms on the tabletop. “I can take the truth. I’m an adult.” And then she contradicted that statement by bolting out of the kitchen and running down the hallway.
Maybe it was the demand for the truth. Maybe it was the way nothing had been going right for Mandy. For once, she forgot about eggs and patience and smiles, and followed her. “You may be eighteen soon, but that doesn’t make you an adult. Adults are responsible and reliable. They don’t call in sick when they’re not.”
“I can’t be reliable if I can’t rely on my health. When cancer comes back—”
“If! If! If!” Mandy couldn’t believe she was shouting or that she didn’t want to stop.
“I’m not going to cosmetology school. Why learn something new when I’m just going to die young?” Olivia was calm. Icy calm.
Mandy was mad. Raging mad. “I’m so glad you’ve thought this through. While you’re waiting to die, you can prepare for the earthquake to hit. It’s got to happen before you croak. After all, your doctor said you’d live to be a grandmother and geologists predict the Big One will strike at any moment.”
Olivia started to put her hands on her hips and then must have thought better of it—heaven forbid she ruin a wet nail. She raised her hands instead, almost as if she was being held up. “I would’ve been better off with Mom.”
“And I would’ve been better off if I’d have let her take you. You would’ve had at least one baby by now and probably been hooked on drugs or alcohol—or dead—but at least one of us would be happy.” Mandy grabbed her mailbag and headed for the door. “Maybe this birthday you’ll get your wish and Mom will show up.”
As soon as Mandy slammed the door, she was slammed with regret. She knew better than to lose her temper, but she had no time to apologize. She clocked in by scanning a letter destined for Ben and marched onward.
When Mandy reached Agnes’s house, the diminutive woman hugged her. “Congratulations on being Harmony Valley’s first female firefighter. My mother used to tell me stories about the protests women made for the vote. Your grandmother would be proud.”
Mandy didn’t think they’d have been proud of her outburst today. She thanked Agnes halfheartedly and kept walking. She had to avoid delays today since it was her first day not being in charge.
A few minutes later, it was Eunice who awaited her. She wore a brown velvet tracksuit that complemented the purplish tint to her gray hair. “Please tell me your sweet young sister is opening a nail salon here.”
“I can’t tell you a thing.” The pager at Mandy’s belt vibrated. She checked the readout. The address was only a few blocks away. She was needed. Her legs felt as sturdy as a scarecrow’s. “My first call.”
“Is it a fire?” Eunice asked.
“I don’t know.” Mandy hurried off, mailbag banging at her hip.
The fire engine siren filled the air. The Libbys were on their way, too.
Mandy ran the rest of the way.
Ben pulled up just as Mandy reached the address on her pager. She’d worked up a sweat.
“Thanks for coming.” Ben climbed out and unlocked compartments in the truck. “The first aid and medical kits are here. You may need to unlock them someday if Dad or I are busy.”
Keith appeared at the front fender of the truck. “Got a call about a man complaining he’s dizzy.” He led her to the front door. “The first hour after an incident is called the Golden Hour. Most people who receive the right care in those critical sixty minutes survive.” Keith knocked on the door. “Fire department.” When there was no answer, he tried to open the door. “It’s locked.” He pounded on the door this time and yelled, “Fire department!” The effort had him gasping as he tried to refill his lungs.
“Are you okay?” Mandy took hold of his arm.
“Fine,” Keith wheezed.
“There’s a lockbox.” Ben set his gear down and hurried to a box mounted next to the mailbox. He rifled through his key ring, selected one and then inserted the key into the box. He took a key from the hook inside and handed it to his father. “Some people pay for these so we don’t have to break their door down when they call 911,” Ben explained.
Keith opened the door and looked at Mandy. “Stay behind us.” And then he went in calling, “Hello? Fire department.”
Ben passed her with the med kits. “You never know what state of mind people are in, especially when they called but the door is locked.”
Mandy’s legs were more unstable than they’d been when she’d been paged. Who knew rescuing people could be dangerous?
They found an old man lying in his bed in a back room. He was slack-jawed, his stare vacant. Mandy had seen death and near death. This man—this stranger—he didn’t seem to be far from death’s door. She felt sick. She’d assumed when she volunteered that she’d be going on fires, not bearing witness to someone’s passing.
Ben began to take the man’s vitals while Keith talked to him.
“What’s your name, sir?”
The old man mumbled something unintelligible.
“Adam Franklin,” Mandy said, feeling useful for the first time. That usefulness made it bearable to stay. “I’ve been delivering his mail.”
“Adam,” Keith said without missing a beat. “When was the last time you drank something?”
Using his thumb and forefinger, Ben lifted a bit of skin from Adam’s forearm and then released it. The skin was slow resuming its shape. “Dehydration.”
“Adam,” Keith said in a booming voice. “Have you been sick? Throwing up? Diarrhea?”
Adam gave the barest of nods.
“Starting an IV.” Ben rummaged through his boxes.
Keith got on the radio with dispatch and requested an ambulance.
“What can I do?” Mandy asked.
“Clear a path for the gurney from the front door through here.” Ben spoke quietly. “Don’t ask my dad to lift or move anything heavy. If you need help, ask me.”
Forty-five minutes later, Mandy helped Ben carry the medical kits to the fire truck while Keith walked next to Adam’s gurney to the ambulance. The intake of fluids through the IV had helped Adam immensely. He was able to communicate in short sentences, but he was still too weak to be left alone.
“Are you disappointed this didn’t turn into a kidnapping?” Smiling, Ben stroked her arm from shoulder to elbow. “I’m joking. We do that afterward to release the tension. You did good in there, but you look like you’re about to faint.”
She didn’t faint. She babbled. “I’ve seen sickness. I’ve seen death. But only with people I know. I delivered this man’s mail, but I’d never met him. And then I’m in his bedroom and trying to help keep him alive in some miniscule way.”
“The job can be surreal,” Ben admitted. “But it’s rewarding knowing you helped someone, isn’t it?” His gaze probed for understanding.
She managed a smile and a nod. “You were incredibly focused in there.”
He began putting away the med kits. “I have to be.”
“And yet, you took a moment to give me words of encouragement and care for your dad.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek, because he’d been kind. “Thank you. And now, I’ve got to deliver the mail.”
* * *
&nbs
p; “PRACTICE PUTTING ON your turnout gear.” Granddad walked among the fire trainees like a general before a major battle, chest puffed out, platitudes dropping like spent gun shells.
The atmosphere was more Halloween than fire academy. Ben wasn’t complaining. The Harmony Valley Fire Department was about to get a huge boost in body count.
Two days after his recruitment meeting netted him only Mandy as a volunteer, Ben had held a second meeting. This time, seven men showed up. Three volunteers, including Mandy, had medical certification. And now they were having their first official training session.
Ben had begged, borrowed and bartered for used gear. Boots in four different sizes. Coats, gloves and pants in two different sizes. Helmets, masks, oxygen tanks.
Technically, Ben was in charge of training. Dad was at home trying out a new breathing treatment and resting. Granddad had shown up with a crate full of kittens. He took charge of showing the recruits how to dress while Ben readied the few self-contained breathing apparatus sets he’d scrimmaged.
“Some of you are going to wash out.” Granddad was on his fourth pass of the evening. “That’s just the way it is.” He scowled toward the corner where Mandy and Joe Messina were joking and helping Will Jackson with his gear.
Ben had wanted to scowl a few times himself. Four of the volunteers had grown up with Mandy. Ben envied their easy camaraderie. Since the wiring failure at the post office, Ben had barely seen her. She left before dawn on her thirty-minute drive to Cloverdale, sorted and picked up mail, then drove back and delivered the mail in Harmony Valley. She didn’t go out to tell secrets to the moon. And the number of emergency calls had decreased. She’d accompanied him and Dad on only two medical runs.
As for brushfires? They’d had none.
Granddad continued to pontificate. “There are those who like to set fires—”
“It was an accident,” Mandy said for about the tenth time with a sideways glance at Ben.
“—and those who like to put fires out.” Granddad raised his voice. “Just like there are dog people and there are cat people. Did everyone have a chance to hold a kitten?”
“Yes!” the entire room chorused.
Love, Special Delivery Page 19
