A Different Way

by Kathryn Shay

  Lynne put down her glass. She hoped she didn’t stutter. “B-Brady, hi. Nice to see you again.” It had been four days since she’d slept with him on her couch. “How have you been?”

  “Busy. No more close calls for you, I hope.”

  “None.”

  “That’s what we’re celebrating. I’m Annie.”

  “Oh, sorry.” She introduced the rest of them. He had their complete attention.

  “You must be the Sisters of Fire.”

  “We are.” She motioned to his companions. “Are you celebrating anything?” Stupid question but she wanted to know who he was with.

  “Not exactly. Those are my parents, and a couple they’re close friends with.”

  “How nice.”

  “Speaking of them, I should get back. So glad to have met you all.” To Lynne, he asked, “Will you be at Flying Solo tomorrow night?”

  “I plan to.”

  Now a cute smile. “We said we’d ride together.”

  “Sure. Text me.”

  “Will do. Goodbye for now.” He gave the rest of them a once over. “Again, nice to meet you.”

  The women were nearly agape as he walked away.

  “Who was that cutie?” JJ asked.

  “And what’s Flying Solo?” Annie wanted to know.

  “All right, all right. It’s a long story who he is and what the group is.”

  “Don’t forget why you’re riding with him.” Trish got into it too.

  “Not here, though, with him facing me.”

  “Fine,” Tess bargained. “But you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, sweetie. I, for one, can’t wait.”

  * * *

  Brady hoped he’d dodged that bullet without offending Lynne. The last thing he wanted was for her to meet his parents. And Jenny’s. On his dead wife’s birthday.

  God, help me explain this without lying.

  The answer came quickly. I will, son.

  He dropped down next to his mother. Belinda Jamison was a young sixty-year-old, and most of her hair was the color of Brady’s. She dressed simply and her outlook on life was optimistic. She’d passed that on to him. “I take it you know those women, son?” she asked.

  “One of them. She goes to the parenting group I attend.”

  Contrary to his mom, Jenny’s mother, gray-haired, severely- dressed, Ada Newton was ultra conservative and strict with her only child. Jenny had suffered from her views. “I don’t know why you need that group, Brady. You have all of us. And siblings.”

  “Thanks, Ada. I’m grateful for that. You’re invaluable to me and Emma.”

  His ingratiating tone did the trick.

  “Now, want a bottle of wine?”

  “I’d love some.” His dad, Reverend Bob, was a kind man, a peacemaker and Brady adored him. The feeling was heartily returned.

  “Me, too,” Jenny’s dad, Aaron, said.

  Everyone wanted a glass except Ada. Still, when it arrived, she toasted with water. “To our daughter.”

  Aaron lifted his wine. “Rest with the angels, dear one.”

  “Amen,” Brady’s father added.

  Her parents insisted that they celebrate what would have been Jenny’s thirty-fifth birthday. Brady felt uncomfortable doing that, but he wouldn’t offend the couple.

  They talked about the church, about Ada’s ideas for it, which were, again, over-the-top conservative, and his dad’s gentle input. As they finished up their meals, he saw the Sisters of Fire stand to leave the restaurant. Lynne threw him a nod and a half-smile before they filed out. They stole the attention of every single person in the place.

  His mom and dad watched them, but Jenny’s parents had their backs to the group. Brady blew out a heavy breath.

  Saved, again, Lord.

  But God’s answer disturbed him. You have to tell her, my child. Before the relationship goes any further.

  * * *

  “Man, it stinks in here.”

  “Used clothes often smell stale, Phillip. I’m sure they’ll be washed.”

  Her son dropped the bag he was holding. “I don’t know why we gotta do this. I wanna go back to Dad’s.” As he stared at her, Phillip’s criticism struck Lynne’s mother’s heart. She shrugged at Trish, who they’d come with.

  Nearby, Trish moved closer to them. “Phillip, some women are mistreated by men. Your mom told you that, before she brought you to the drop-off site for Sanctuary House donations today.”

  “Yeah, she did. They’re not like us, though.”

  Melody, who’d been working with Nathan on the other side of the room, waved at them. They were packing up the toys for kids who were housed at the shelter.

  “They’re exactly like us, honey.”

  He frowned. “I don’t know any lady who gets hit by a man.”

  They’d continued to remove clothes from the big plastic bags, sort them by size, and put them on a table. Phillip pretended interest in the sweatshirt he held.

  Trish said kindly, “I’ll bet there are kids in your class whose dads are abusive. Or whose moms are.”

  “In a hick town like ours?”

  “Absolutely. Sometimes, small towns are the worst.”

  Lynne finished with her bag of children’s clothes and walked over to her son. “Phillip, domestic abuse is a huge issue in society.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  Trish edged her hip on the table to face him. “I was abused by men. First my father, then my boyfriend.”

  Phillip’s eyes widened like saucers. “I-I-you were?”

  “Yes. Do you remember Rick? I think you met him a few times.”

  “That creepy guy you dated.”

  Trish chuckled. “Uh-huh. He hurt me. Like all the women who need these clothes were victims of male abuse. And sometimes, women abuse men.”

  Lynne saw something she hadn’t seen in a long time. Phillip’s eyes misted. “I…you…what’d he do to you?”

  Her friend didn’t flinch, but she sent a questioning look Lynne’s way. She nodded.

  “He kicked me, punched me, threw me to the ground.”

  Tears trickled down Phillip’s cheeks. “Geez. Aunt Trish. That’s awful.” In his shock, he retreated to the old name he’d called the Sisters of Fire—aunts.

  “It was. But I got away from him. The women at Sanctuary House are trying to do the same.”

  “I, um, I didn’t understand all this.”

  Lynne wondered if she should have told the boy, who’d been sheltered in a small town, more about the hardships of life. Well, he was certainly getting what she wanted him to learn from today’s volunteering.

  “That’s okay. You know now.”

  “I’m…” his gaze sought out his mother’s. “Sorry I complained about coming here, Mom.”

  “I understand. When we find out about problems in society, we should help the people involved. Again, that’s why we’re here.”

  Just then, Melody and Nathan appeared in front of the table. Phillip’s eyes widened, signaling he didn’t want his sister to know about Trish.

  “Mommy, Nathan says I can go in and help in his classroom some time.”

  “That would be great.”

  “Bigger kids come to younger kids’ classrooms and help out. Read to the kids and stuff like that.”

  “Aren’t you the lucky one.”

  She saw Nathan come over and slide his arm around Trish’s shoulder. He must have sensed something about their discussion. She leaned her head on his shoulder. Lynne used to do that with Ken when they were first married, after both babies, on anniversaries. But that kind of intuition about the other stopped a long time ago. Suddenly she wanted it again. But not with Ken.

  They finished up with all the new bags that had been delivered. “You know what, guys? I think all our hard work all morning deserves a splurge.”

  “On food?” Melody asked.

  Lynne made sure the kids’ nutrition was healthy and wholesome. But there were times for exceptions. “Uh, huh. How about hamb
urgers, French fries and milkshakes?”

  “Be still my heart,” Trish put in. “I’ve had cravings.”

  “Why, Trish?” Melody asked.

  She tried to contain a smile. “Because I’m going to have a little one like you in seven months.”

  Melody reached out and touched her stomach. “There’s a baby in here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Holy cow!” She hugged Trish.

  Phillip, not a hugger like most teenage boys, threw his arms around Trish and held on tight. Trish closed her eyes and let him prolong the action.

  Lynne filled with warmth.

  Later that night, she thought of Phillip’s skepticism and recalled some training she’d received at the last phase of her recruit days: evolutions, where real scenarios firefighters faced were played out…

  Their beloved Diane Camp who’d been killed in a fire, then a captain on the line who took leave to teach them, said to the group, “Lucas, up on the stage, with Jensen, O’Shea and Martin behind her.” A doorway had been set up. “This is the home of Mr. and Mrs. Jackson. Mr. Jackson is a prominent member of the city council. A report of domestic violence has come in. You two are in a firehouse of four people. Lucas, you take the lead as officer.” She stepped away.

  Knock, knock on the door. Chief Roncone, wearing only a T-shirt, opened it. “Can I help you?”

  Lynne raised her chin. “We received a 911 call for domestic violence. Who else is in this house?”

  “No one. I was working on City Council business in my den.”

  She didn’t fall for the power play. She glanced behind him as Brooke came into view. She’d put on makeup so she looked as if she had a black eye. “I need to talk to the woman behind you.”

  “That’s my wife. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “Mrs. Jackson, could you please come to the door.”

  Brooke hesitated.

  “I said no, Firefighter. Give me your name. I’m calling the mayor.”

  “You do that. The police should be here soon enough, too.” They were taught that firefighters often arrived at the scene first because there was a firehouse closer than a police station.

  Roncone’s face flushed with anger “All right, Barb, come tell the firefighter about your black eye. How you walked into a door.”

  Hesitantly, Brooke approached the door.

  “Hello, I’m Firefighter Lucas. What happened here?”

  Brooke’s eyes darted to her husband. “Like he said, I walked into a wall.”

  “He said it was a door. Are you sure? We can take you away from here right now. You don’t have to live this way.”

  “I can’t. Please go away. I…have kids.”

  “You need to protect them.”

  Outrage made Jackson’s whole-body rigid. He pushed Brooke out of the way and lunged for Lynne, who fell backward into the three other firefighters who caught her.

  “All right,” Diane said then. “Everybody gather up here on the stage.” She waited. “Was Lucas right in forcing the matter?”

  “Yeah, of course,” JJ answered. “There were people to protect.”

  “How far does that go? Should she endanger herself?”

  “Yes, for this.” Tess spoke up firmly. “Somebody’s got to do something about a guy like this.”

  Three other women in the class supported Lynne, except Trish, who kept silent. They didn’t know then that she’d been badly abused as a child.

  Colin O’Shea stepped out of the group. “I got something to say.”

  “Go ahead, O’Shea.”

  “I don’t think they should have left, but before they knocked on the door, they should’ve waited until the police came.”

  “What if he killed her while we were cowering out here?” Lynne shot back with.

  Colin’s gaze darted to Annie. “At least you would have been safe.”

  Annie Ferris frowned. “Is that our job? To protect ourselves?”

  “Partly,” Diane put in. “So, you can continue being a firefighter and save others. It’s why you don’t run inside a fully involved fire even if there’s somebody inside.”

  “I know about that.” Annie was on a roll. “But I couldn’t live with myself leaving her there alone for him to beat on.”

  “Is there any compromise here?” Diane asked.

  Colin said, “There has to be.”

  “Go back to the tables. We’ll discuss this there…”

  They’d had a rousing discussion for an hour about safety, and it got heated. Diane let it play out. She’d said later that there was no right answer. Each individual had to make her own decision.

  When Annie, JJ, Lynne and Tess still objected, she saw Diane shoot Brooke an expression that said, These girls are great, aren’t they?

  * * *

  Brooke made her weekly trip to Zach’s grave two days after their dinner at Connor’s. “Good morning, love.”

  Zach never answered of course. Brooke refused to allow voices in her head as a way to hold onto him. But it comforted her to talk to him.

  “It’s freezing out here, but I bundled up in your favorite blue parka and new boots.” She stuck her foot out. “Aren’t they cute?”

  She sighed. The cold stung her cheeks.

  “Gray got into another college. That makes eight. He’s an overachiever like you. I think he’s going to pick UCLA. The boys, um, they aren’t coming here every week anymore. They say visiting you makes them sad. And I think it makes Jordan act out.”

  He’d been caught drinking by his girlfriend’s father. And he swore at Lynne once. Mostly, he blockaded himself in his room. She’d talked sternly to him about the drinking, but let everything else go. He had to deal with his father’s death in his own way.

  “I can handle it, though. I can handle everything.” Tears misted in her eyes but she battled them back.

  “Some pleasant things are happening. The Sisters of Fire are great. Trish is pregnant. You always had a soft spot for her. Tess is thrilled to share her pregnancy with another one of us. Annie’s loving her year-long maternity leave. And JJ, well, I’m afraid somebody’s replaced you as the hunk in the significant other group. Nick’s drop dead gorgeous, but he’s a nice guy and he’s head over heels in love with her.” She chuckled. “Lynne’s even got a guy in her life, but nobody’s sure where it’s going. Honestly, that girl does know how to trip herself up.”

  She quieted. “I’m the same. Hurting badly, then uplifted, then hurting again. I’m thinking about going to see Suzanne Blakely. I know nobody can take away this grief but she’s helped everybody else…”

  Brooke burst into tears. She put her face in her mittened-hands and sobbed. His loss hurt so much.

  * * *

  “Well, the prodigal daughter returns.” Her dad, Duff, was still stinging over her leaving town. And today, there were more lines around his green eyes, and his shoulders slumped a bit. But he was her father, and she wanted a relationship with him.

  “You invited me for breakfast.” She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t be so sour.”

  “I miss you, Lynnie.”

  “I miss you, too. We could try to get together more.”

  “I suppose.”

  Hmm, that sounded like a retreat. And she’d take it. They sat at the breakfast table and he poured them both coffee, black no sugar. The November wind batted against the huge window and the snow blew past.

  Her father shook his head. “So, I saw the footage of you catching on fire.”

  “Yeah. I called that night to let you know what happened.”

  “I almost came up.” He ran a hand over his bald head like he did when he was worried. “Hairy stuff there. Get nightmares?”

  “Yes, I did.” And Brady was there to stop them. She sipped her coffee so she didn’t blurt that out.

  “You sure you want exciting fire calls?”

  “Well, I don’t ever want to catch on fire like that again.”

  “You should have told the
guy behind to fuck off.”

  “I know. My bad.”

  “His bad. Any other exciting incidents?”

  She gave him a sideways glance.

  “Honestly. I want to know.”

  She realized this was something they had in common. So they discussed some of her other calls. After that, she asked, “What’s going on in Dannerville?”

  “Ken’s shamed our family. The whole town’s talking about him.”

  “He’s done hurtful things.”

  “Hell, Mary Parker? She’s nothing like you.”

  “I think that was the point, Dad. We wanted different ways of life.”

  “He could have done without cheating, then getting her pregnant.”

  “Like you said, he’s shamed himself. No one else. I hope the kids aren’t paying the price. Phillip, especially, since he’s here more than Mel.”

  “Honey, Phillip comes over to stay with me a lot.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “Things get rough with his father. Actually, Ken kicked him out once.”

  Her mouth dropped. “Shit. He didn’t tell me.”

  “Ken told Phillip he couldn’t be under his roof without accepting Mary.”

  “That’s awful. Kids need time to adjust.”

  “I’m sure the boy will move up to Crystal City as soon as the semester’s over.”

  “I want that, Dad.”

  He stared at her over the rim of his cup when he drank. “I know, you’re a good mother.”

  Her father was tight with compliments. “Why…thank you.”

  When she had to leave to get back for work, she hugged him extra tight. “You come to my house. For dinner sometime.”

  “I’ll text you. I love you, Lynnie.”

  “I love you, too, Dad.”

  * * *

  Brady’s Boys’ Group gathered in the most private room in the church set up for teens. Stuffed couches and chairs sprawled over the floor, courtesy of a fundraiser. Windows on two sides let in natural light.

  Most importantly, attendance was great for a small church—ten boys, aging from 13-17. Then again, the topic they’d picked from the eight they’d decided upon for the year was…more than intriguing.

  “Hi, guys. I’d like to start with a meditation.” He’d resisted calling this an opening prayer because, he knew from his dealings with them, at least half had problems with organized religion. “Today, we hope to gain information on sex. It’s a difficult subject. We’ll strive to be honest and kind to each other. Now for a moment to ponder what we’d like to get out of the discussion.”