by Kelly Moran
“I remember Dad was incredibly patient and understanding. No matter what trouble I got myself in, he’d talk instead of yell. He had this uncanny ability to see all sides of the story, not just one or two. He was a bit of a problem solver.” Funny, Jason had spent so much of his life trying to get over the old man’s death that he’d lost sight of what memory he had left of his father. She’d somehow managed to stir them back to his consciousness.
He tried to recall other moments with Dad and Lou in order to answer her original question. “Lou was always around for holidays and get-togethers. He doesn’t have any family and his folks died shortly after he’d graduated high school. He was more like an uncle in my eyes. Work, home, whatever the situation, they were together all the time. Dad trusted him one-hundred percent. With me, with Mama, on the job.”
She smiled.
He did a double-take, and sighed. Oh, she was clever. Yeah, okay. “Dad would say there’s no one else he’d rather have in his place than Lou.”
“I didn’t know him, but I’d think if Lou is good to you and makes your mom happy, then that’s all your dad would ask for. You had a right to be upset. They kept the relationship a secret from you. She probably had her reasons, but at least you’re aware of it now.”
“Yeah.” He mimicked her pose and put his head in his hand. “I can’t get over the things Lou said, though. About me feeling guilty.” Never mind the plethora of other stuff.
“Do you feel guilty?”
“I…” He sighed hard and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe. I wasn’t there when he died.”
“You weren’t, no, and if this had happened yesterday while you were on the job, it still wouldn’t be your fault. It’s called survivor’s guilt. He died, but you didn’t. I had to deal with it myself. It has no rhyme, but there is a reason, however jaded.”
Melancholy hit him, and he tucked her hair behind her ear. It killed him to know what she’d been through. But she’d come out the other side an incredible person. Him? A demented dragonfly, fluttering from one disaster to the next. “My situation is different from yours.”
“In a way. We both lost people due to tragedy. Loss is loss, regardless of how you wrap it.”
True story. “Lou said I don’t allow myself to get close to people because I’m afraid I might lose them.” And that Jason didn’t think he deserved happiness. That last part he couldn’t shake. It played over and over again like a loop.
Loathe as he was to admit it, Lou had a point. A dull one, but a point. Every time Jason started to feel something for a woman that ran deeper than amusement or lust, he’d yank the cord. End it before it had begun. He thought he’d understood why, had his reasons, but he was beginning to doubt whether those decisions had merit.
And then there was Ella. He hadn’t followed his typical blueprint with her. Here he was, in bed with her, having a heart-to-fucking-heart. What exactly did that mean? That Lou was wrong and Jason had just been searching for the right counterpart? That he no longer felt guilty?
Her lips curved in a sad smile. “Everyone’s afraid of losing someone they love. We don’t have a choice in when we come or when we go, just how we live our life in between those moments. And the way we honor the memory of those who are no longer here is by doing just that. Living.”
He’d been doing a crappy job of honoring his dad’s memory, then.
For the first time in a decade, his father’s face swam to mind. Through the years, details like that had escaped him, withered to dust and blown in the wind. He’d had to look at photos to recall his dad’s features. The light tone of his skin. His reddish blond, neatly trimmed beard. Small hazel eyes, just like Jason’s, but bushy eyebrows the same sandy blond as the thinning hair on his head.
Other specifics filtered to the surface. The way Dad had laughed from his gut and how the sound bellowed. He had huge hands, calloused from years of working with them. He’d smelled like fresh-cut pine. And whenever he’d gotten home from a call, he’d shuck Jason’s chin and joke, “Fire didn’t get the best of me this time.”
Except it had. One day, Lou had come home instead of Dad, and there was no one there to shuck his chin, change his bike tire, throw him a baseball, or teach him to shave. Mama had done those things in his wake. Lou had stepped up and filled in where appropriate. But it hadn’t been the same.
Never again had things been the same.
“It was twenty-two years ago today.” He flicked his gaze to hers, held it. This time last year, he was climbing the northern peak of the Klamath in arctic record snow. The year before that, he’d gone deep sea diving in a controlled shark cage. Maybe the fact he was here with her now and not danger-seeking was a testament to him wanting to move on. “It was twenty-two years ago today he died.”
“I know,” she whispered. She looked down, swallowing. As if not aware of her actions, she sat up and tucked the sheets around her. Hesitancy and remorse and pain shadowed her expression. “I’d like you to go somewhere with me.”
Uh, okay. “Where?”
Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “I’d rather explain when we get there. I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a long time. Please?”
“All right, sweetheart. Take me wherever you want to go.”
Chapter 18
“Done. I texted my mama and told her I’d come by tonight, but until then, she had my blessing with Lou.”
Ella glanced at Jason in her passenger seat, folded like a pretzel in her tiny car, and back to the road. She knew that had been hard for him, but he’d be glad for getting past his initial anger and accepting the change. “I’m sure she’ll be relieved and grateful you approve.”
She could only hope he’d understand a smidgen of that amount when she spilled her guts. Lying in bed with him, hearing him open up about his father and the past, made her realize it was time. Ready to hear it or not, he was learning the truth today. She should’ve never gotten in this deep with him in the first place. It had been selfish and greedy of her, wanting something that wasn’t hers, and under normal circumstances, never would’ve been obtainable. She’d let three meddling matchmakers wheedle her into doing the unthinkable. Regardless of how wonderful he’d made her feel, it had all been a lie.
“I wish you’d tell me where we’re going.”
Nausea churned in her belly. “We’ll be there soon.”
“I don’t get why you couldn’t just tell me at your place.”
Such amazing memories she’d had in her apartment. She didn’t want to taint them with the horrible way their relationship was going to end. It was all she’d have left. Plus, he might comprehend the bigger picture if he saw for himself.
“I’d rather do it this way.”
He frowned, but otherwise stayed mute.
Acid ate away at her stomach lining until nothing remained. Bile crawled up her throat and left a horrid tang in her mouth. Fear, no doubt. The taste was familiar. Her heart pounded and her hands shook and it was all she could do to keep her Subaru between the dotted lines.
She wove through the center of town to the northern outskirts. A ten minute ride that took ten hours. Finally, at the first of two destinations, she pulled onto the shoulder of a private street and parked, leaving the engine running.
He glanced out the passenger window.
She followed his gaze, attempting to view it from his perspective. All that appeared to be there now was an empty field with overgrown grass and weeds, pocketed between a couple of white duplexes in need of updating. Dogs barked from behind a chain link fence.
“You can’t see it from this angle, but the basement is still there.”
He whipped his head around to stare wide-eyed at her. “Is this…?”
Nodding, she kept her eyes out the window, unable to look at him. “It’s ironic the basement held up, considering the fire started there. Faulty wiring or a short for the dryer outlet. The house was old. It went up like kindling. If only the whole place had been made of cinderbl
ock. If only we’d had functioning smoke detectors. If only…”
She forced a swallow and cleared her throat. “Most of the main level had been engulfed by the time a neighbor saw the smoke and dialed 9-1-1. I think it was the firefighters breaking in that initially woke me. I was told my parents died in their sleep. Peacefully from smoke inhalation or carbon monoxide.” She shook her head. “I can still hear them screaming in my head.”
“Ella, sweetheart.” He gripped her forearm, tried to pull her closer.
“I’m going to take you somewhere else now.” Firmly, she put the gear in Drive and pulled away.
“Why did you bring me there? And why won’t you let me comfort you?”
“To show you where it started and because I don’t deserve it.” There. He was getting the whole truth today. Best to start with the obvious.
“Ella,” he said through an exasperated sigh. “Where what started? You’re not making sense. Of course, you deserve comfort. Would you please talk to me?”
The man who broke out in hives at the mention of conversation wanted to talk. At least one of them had grown up in the short time they’d been together. “I will, soon as we get where we’re going. I promise.”
Bounce, bounce, bounce went his knee. He swiped his hand over his face, but blessedly dropped the subject.
She hated being evasive. Aside from the one secret looming between them, she’d been open with him, able to say anything. But this? It had to be done right.
Crossing back through town and heading south, she passed new and old subdivisions. Townsfolk were beginning to meander about, taking walks or doing yard work. Sunlight broke through a thin cloud cover, playing a game of peek-a-boo with the fog. She still had her window down, needing air, and saltwater tinged the breeze from the Pacific, mixing with that of peat moss and cypress. Just any old Saturday.
Except it wasn’t.
He tensed and sat straighter in his seat as she drove through the winged black wrought iron cemetery gates. She knew the path by heart and veered right at a slow crawl, followed the curve, and made a sharp left, coming to a stop.
This time, she cut the engine. “Follow me.”
Expression hard and confused, he climbed out, glancing around.
Oak and maple were interspersed with weeping willows amongst the headstones. Some had flowers or flags, others were barren. The neatly trimmed grass was bright green as she stepped onto it and in front of duo graves.
Side-by-side, her mother and father forever. Kneeling she traced her fingers over the engravings as Jason came up behind her.
“These are them, where your parents are buried.” A statement, not a question. “You don’t have the same last name.”
“No. After the fire, Aunt Yona and Uncle Luis offered to change mine to their last name. They thought it might help with building a fresh start.” Ella Wilcox seemed like a different person now. She hardly recognized it for all that had happened since.
“Did it?”
“Not really.” She gazed ahead, trapped by the past and no future to look forward to. “I had been in the hospital for months, rehab and therapy for years. Surgeries and graftings and hyperbaric chambers. Antibiotics and walkers and bandages. I told you I missed their funeral. When I was well enough, my aunt and uncle brought me here for closure.”
Trembling, she fisted her hands on her thighs. “I was scared beyond reason to come, that if I did, I’d want to die like they did. Be done with the pain and join them.” Her voice broke, and she grabbed her chest. “As I got older, I was still afraid because, one day, on one of these visits, there would come a time when I wouldn’t feel that anymore. Proof that I moved on and grieved.” She looked up at him, tears blurring his form. “It felt like a betrayal.”
“Ella,” he breathed, sinking to his knees. “It’s not a betrayal. It’s what they would’ve wanted for you.”
“I know, and you’re right.” She wiped her wet cheeks. “But it’s that survivor’s guilt I mentioned. It has no logic. You experienced it with your dad’s passing. Neither of us are to blame, but feelings are feelings, and they should always be acknowledged.” She sniffed and refocused on the graves. “Death carves holes in your soul, gouges and chunks that leave you empty and barren. Only love can refill them again. If you’re lucky, when it’s your time to go, there aren’t any more holes.”
He skimmed a shaking hand down the length of her hair, smoothing the strands as if that could erase the damage, the past, or her lie. She closed her eyes to the comfort, soaking it in until the moment it would be taken away.
Letting out an uneven breath, she stood.
He did the same, and she faced him.
So handsome, so kind, so brave. Capable of more than he ever gave himself credit. His concerned hazel eyes had an abundance of green flecks in the sunlight and worry bracketed the corners of his mouth. A breeze caught his hair, ruffling the sandy-colored strands.
She braced herself to relay another truth before she blew their fragile world apart. Just so he knew where she stood and how much he meant to her. He’d taught her about passion and self-worth, had shown and told her there was beauty in scars. Most of all, she was no longer invisible because of him.
“I love you.”
His eyes rounded. His lips parted. He moved one foot back as if prepared to step away, but stopped. His arms twitched like he was fighting the instinct to hold her instead of fleeing.
He stared at her, respirations heavy, soul in his eyes. Understanding and acknowledgement and acceptance filled his gaze the longer he studied her. After several beats, his shoulders rose and fell with a profound breath.
He didn’t run. He widened his stance.
And that broke her heart clean in half.
“I don’t need you to say it back. I’m not looking for anything from you. I just wanted you to know how I feel.” She chewed her lower lip, fighting the cold sensation creeping up her body and encasing her limbs. “No matter what happens next, just know I do love you.”
Taking his hand, she pivoted.
“Ella, hold on.” He tugged her arm, bringing her back around.
“Please come with me,” she begged. If he returned the sentiment or said anything at all, she’d crumble to ash.
“Where?” He huffed, brows furrowed. “I—”
“Please, Jason. Just come with me.”
He must’ve caught the desperation in her expression because his lips thinned, but he nodded in compliance. “Fine, Ella.”
She turned, taking a few steps, and let go of his hand. Veering right, she led him down a path deeper into the cemetery. A whippoorwill cooed and crickets chirped as he strode next to her, head down and hands in his pockets. A humid breeze had the leaves crackling overhead.
“That night, a crash woke me. Like I said, I think it was the firefighters breaking in the front door.” She glanced ahead, determined to get the story told without crying. “I heard my parents screaming and voices downstairs before I noticed the heat. Flames were under my bedroom door and had burned a trail inside. Without thinking, I acted and jumped out of bed.”
He turned his head to look at her, but she kept her focus forward.
She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “My parents stopped screaming. I don’t know why that hit me before the pain. Anyway, I was frozen with fear. Unable to do anything but cry and the entire floor was on fire. I’m not sure how long I was there, but the next thing I knew, my bedroom door was kicked in. Through a wall of flames, a firefighter emerged. He rushed to me, swooped me up into his arms, and set me on the bed. I remember the smell of plastic and rubber and soot, how his yellow coat was smooth against my cheek. He wrapped my blanket around my legs and picked me up again.”
They were almost there. Jason hadn’t been paying any attention to their route because he’d been watching her, listening. She slowed her steps to keep it that way.
With trembling hands, she brushed the hair from her cheeks. “I never got to see his face. He was wearin
g a helmet and there was too much smoke. I’ll never forget his voice, though. Calm, authoritative, and reassuring, he said, ‘I’ve got you. You’re going to be all right. Hold onto me.’”
Shoot, she was losing the battle. Her eyes burned and her chest hitched. “With me in his arms, he spun around and headed for the door. But he only made it a few steps. The floor gave out and we crashed through, landing on the dining room table downstairs. He’d broken my fall. Another firefighter took me from him and dashed toward the front hall. The last thing I remember was looking over his shoulder as he ran, watching the man on the table and other firemen swarming him.”
Coming to a stop, she faced him. Not bothering to wipe the tears, she chanced a peek at him, only to have her world fall apart again.
His eyes were red-rimmed, but dry. Helplessness and fear stared back at her. Long minutes passed, and he finally closed his lids in a slow blink as if composing himself. “I’m sorry that happened to you. I sincerely am. It’s killing me, sweetheart, to be honest. Every instance where you reveal more about that night kills me. But I don’t understand why you had to bring me here to tell me.”
Her stomach plummeted. Her vision went gray. “Because this is the firefighter who rescued me.”
He flinched. “What?” Craning his head around, he looked at the grave beside them. His body followed until he fully faced the headstone.
She knew the moment her words sank in, the very second he realized the connection. And judging by the rigidness of his spine, the flat affect of his expression, the way the color drained from his face, and how he’d seemed to stop breathing, there was no chance he was going to get past it. Any miniscule amount of hope she’d been harboring disintegrated.
“When we crashed through the floor, he broke his neck. He risked his life to save mine.” Her voice wavered, and she covered her mouth with her hand to keep the wail from escaping.
“Ah, God.” He bent at the waist, hands on his thighs, head bowed. “Ah, God. No, no.”
She fisted her hand over her aching chest. “He left behind a devoted wife, an adoring son, and a best friend since childhood.”
