The Fire House on Honeysuckle Street

by Rachel Dove

  She didn’t know where he had appeared from. Was he next door all the time, had he heard them fight? She didn’t have chance to feel embarrassed, she was just grateful he had shown up before she ended up lamping her feckless husband with a Lego Death Star in front of her child. Iain was now looking between the two of them as though he was watching a tennis match.

  ‘Who the hell is this guy?’ He took a step towards Sam, looking up at him and puffing his chest out. Sam looked at him as though he was a fly in his drink. A mild annoyance that needed to be dealt with.

  ‘I’m her neighbour. Lucy, you go see to Xander. I will just say goodbye to your friend here, see him on his way.’ He flicked his gaze back to Iain, one thick brow raised. Iain looked at her over his shoulder, his expression a mixture of impotent fury and fear. It was what Xander called a poop face, one of his ways of understanding his dad. He had a point, at this moment in time.

  ‘This is not over, Luce, we have things to discuss.’

  Luce shook her head slowly, looking right at him with a resigned expression on her face.

  ‘I have nothing to say to you, Iain. Enjoy the party.’ She didn’t hear what the men said to each other. She went inside, heading straight for Xander, who was still happily playing in the sunshine.

  Half an hour later, with Xander watching a film on his tablet in the lounge, Lucy was just pushing a home-made lasagne into the oven when there was a knock at the door. Lucy felt herself jump, flinching at the noise. The kitchen was quiet and peaceful, but now she felt the crackle of tension in the air. Please, don’t be Iain.

  She closed the oven door and, wiping her hands on a tea towel, she headed to the front door, trying to keep calm and quiet so Xander wouldn’t pick up on it.

  ‘Hello?’ she said through the door, one hand on the handle.

  ‘Hi,’ a familiar voice said. ‘I have your packages here, if you have a minute.’

  Sam’s voice was friendly and her body relaxed at the sound. She unlocked the door, and there he was. The packages looked like matchboxes in his arms. He gave her a big broad smile, showing his pearly whites and she found herself smiling back.

  ‘Thanks, come in.’

  He walked in, dipping his head as he came through the front door and gently kicking it closed behind him. He was massive, filling her small hallway but looking like he belonged there at the same time.

  ‘Xander okay?’ he asked, making no moves to come further into the house.

  ‘He’s fine, he was happy in the garden. Thanks for bringing these in. I totally forgot about them.’

  On cue, Xander wandered in from the lounge, his face lighting up when he saw Sam.

  ‘You brought my Lego! Have you come to build it with me?’

  ‘Err …’ Sam looked at her, not knowing what to say. ‘That’s up to your mum, kid. I just wanted to say hi, see how my favourite neighbours are.’

  Xander laughed. ‘We’re your only neighbours, so you have to say that!’ Sam laughed, an eruption of deep reverberation from his chest. It was quite sexy. ‘Mum? Can Sam stay?’

  Lucy looked at her afternoon saviour, and found herself agreeing readily. ‘We’re having lasagne for tea, a bit of salad and garlic bread. Have you eaten?’

  Sam shook his head. ‘No, not yet. It smells amazing.’

  Xander nodded emphatically at him. ‘The only thing I like more than Mum’s lasagne is chocolate.’

  Sam laughed again, putting the packages down to one side of the hallway and bending to take his boots off.

  ‘Well, that sounds awesome, thank you. Now, shall we open one of these packages, maybe do a bit before tea?’

  Xander lunged for the biggest one. ‘Yes, Death Star here we come!’ Between them, they dragged it into the lounge, Sam winking at her as they went. Lucy locked the door and headed back to the kitchen.

  Lucy could hear them both chuckling in the lounge as she checked on the oven a short while later. She had managed to finish her jobs, do some washing and set the table for three. It was only a small table, but there was enough room for the three of them. As an afterthought, she lit a few candles, scattering them on the windowsill, away from Xander. He loved candles but he was a little clumsy at times, and she didn’t want to take the risk. It had been an eventful day already, to say the least.

  She went into the lounge to tell them to come for dinner, and walked into a military operation. The rug in the middle of the room had been taken over as command central, and operation ‘Build a Death Star’ was in full flow. The two of them were sitting cross-legged on the floor, both poring over tiny plastic pieces and reading the instructions together. It took her breath away, and she stood stock-still in the doorway, watching them.

  Sam was the first one to notice her there. He was laughing with Xander, throwing his head back, and his eyes found hers. She gave him a little smile, and he smiled back.

  ‘You doing okay?’ he asked gently, his tone neutral, easy. This man always made her feel at ease, safe even. She was no damsel in distress, but, this afternoon, she could have kissed him for appearing when he did. She wondered what he had said to Iain to make him leave. Had he said anything at all? He could have stuffed him into his own car trunk for all she knew. She hadn’t heard a peep after the front door had closed behind her. He half wished he had done just that. She could just imagine the outrage he’d feel.

  ‘I’m good, thanks to you,’ she replied honestly. He nodded, an expression she couldn’t read crossing his features before disappearing back into his easy stance. ‘I had it handled though.’ She added it as an afterthought, wanting him to know that she could handle her own business. Every time she saw this man, she felt like she was spiralling. No wonder he was concerned.

  ‘I know, I got that. Just remember I’m next door though, if you need anything.’

  She didn’t trust herself to reply without appearing stubborn or rude, so she just smiled at him.

  ‘Dinner’s ready, when you are. Would you like a glass of wine? I don’t have any beer.’

  The two master builders followed her in, Xander sitting in his favourite seat and grabbing a piece of garlic bread from the plate in the centre of the table. Sam waited in the doorway, watching Lucy get the lasagne out of the oven. It looked good, and the smell was delicious, even if Lucy said so herself.

  ‘I’m not really a beer man, but I’ll have a glass of wine please. This looks amazing. It’s been a while since I’ve had a relaxed home-cooked meal. The lads at the firehouse cook, but mealtimes there are not quite the same, or the conversation.’ Last shift, they had discussed the inner workings of the offside rule whilst shovelling in mash, pie and peas.

  Lucy giggled, serving the lasagne onto three plates and reaching for the wine bottle. Sam took it from her in one smooth movement and took the wine opener from the drawer in the sideboard. She looked at him in surprise, and he nudged his head to the wall connecting their cottages.

  ‘Same layout as mine,’ he explained. He looked right at home, and Lucy couldn’t help but compare this moment with all the moments she had shared in her own kitchen, with her husband. Generally, this was him coming in demanding something while she was cooking, or baking with Xander, or just sneaking a glass of wine to take the edge off the long nights while Xander slept. In truth, she had gotten used to the long weekends while he was off drinking, and potting tiny balls into tiny holes. They had soon become the times that she looked forward to the most, and she knew that having these thoughts wasn’t exactly a good sign of marital wellbeing.

  ‘What is it?’ Sam asked as he opened the wine. ‘Did I overstep?’

  She snapped back into the moment and shook her head at him, or rather, up at him. The man really was rather tall. She wasn’t a small person herself, but she really felt his presence in the room. It was comforting, especially after the fractious day she’d had.

  ‘What does “overstep” mean?’ Xander piped up, a mouthful of garlic bread muffling his words.

  ‘It means to do something that
’s not really your business, not your place as a person,’ Sam replied easily, unscrewing the cork from the bottle opener and putting it into the bin. ‘Glasses?’ he asked politely to Xander. ‘Do you know where the wine glasses are?’

  Xander nodded, jumping up from his seat and opening one of the cupboards for him. Sam took two wine glasses out, and a tumbler.

  ‘You want some wine, or are you having milk? Juice?’

  Xander gasped and Sam laughed. ‘I can’t have wine, I’m eight!’

  Sam pulled a shocked face, looking at Lucy, his mouth wide open.

  ‘What? You’re eight! Wow, I didn’t know that! I thought you were going to come and work with me!’

  Xander giggled excitedly. ‘I can work with you, I can learn!’ He tapped Sam on the arm, motioning for him to move closer. Sam bent down so Xander could reach his ear, which meant almost folding himself in half. ‘I’m nearly nine too. We could still be firemen.’ He sneaked a peek at his mum, who pretended to busy herself putting the food on the table. ‘Just don’t tell my mum.’

  Sam smiled, looking Xander right in the eyes for a second before looking away and saying, ‘That’s a deal, bud. Just let me know when.’

  Xander squealed and threw his arms around Sam, who didn’t even move despite being hunched over and resting on the balls of his feet. He hesitated for a beat or two, and then slowly, gently, he folded Xander into his arms, and hugged him back. Lucy watched the pair of them, and felt the upset of the day melt away a little. After this, she knew that she had done the right thing, getting away. Sam was a complication she hadn’t seen coming, but having a friend might not be so bad after all, as long as Xander didn’t get hurt. Looking at him now, laughing and joking with Sam as they headed back to the table, she felt hope for the first time in a long time.

  Two and a half hours later, Xander was all tuckered out and ready for bed. She left Sam downstairs while she settled him down with a story, but he was that tired she didn’t even get further than a few pages. They were working their way through a fantasy series that he loved, and had been for a few months now. Once Xander found a writer he liked, that was it, so she always tried to go for series of books to keep him occupied. The room he was sleeping in already looked like his. Books on the nightstand, his nightlight by the socket near the door, lighting his way to the bathroom, his toys in neat piles in the corner of the room. She got out from underneath him, gently moving his arm and tucking him under the covers. He smiled in his sleep, and her heart melted as she watched his little chest rise and fall, his long dark lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he slept. He really was beautiful, and she still found herself marvelling at the tiny human she made. She couldn’t imagine her life without him, or remember life before him. All the old clichés were true, and she was feeling better and better about her decision every day.

  Heading downstairs, she could hear movement in the kitchen, the sound of running water, and the low hum of Sam. He was singing to himself, and she recognised the tune. Walking into the kitchen, she saw that Sam had cleared the table, wiped it down and was now washing the dishes. An Adonis in Marigolds. Be still my beating heart.

  ‘Aretha?’ she asked, stepping into the room and reaching for the tea towel. ‘You don’t have to wash up you know, but I appreciate it.’

  ‘Least I can do for that meal. You like Aretha?’

  Lucy grabbed a dish, brushing back her long brown hair from her face.

  ‘Love her. My mother loved Motown; it rubs off when you hear it played at home.’

  Sam beamed, nodding his head. ‘Doesn’t it just. My mother plagued us all with her music, especially when she was in a cleaning mood.’

  Lucy did the same when she was at home alone, crooning along to her favourites whilst she got the house spick and span. It was her cardio, and given that she never got time to go to the gym, it was always a good workout.

  ‘You have a lot of brothers and sisters, growing up?’ Sam washed the last dish, and emptied the washing-up bowl, cleaning around the sink area with a clean cloth. Whoever his mother was, she had raised her boy well. The man was like Mr Muscle, literally and metaphorically.

  ‘My mother’s a foster carer, so we always had people in the house. She adopted me when I was a baby, so I got used to having a loud, busy house.’

  Lucy didn’t know what to say for a second, so she just kept drying up. If he wanted to tell her more, he would.

  ‘Can I ask you a question?’ He moved to one side, leaning against the sink with one hand, facing her.

  She finished off the last of the dishes, putting them into the cupboards and throwing the tea towel into the washing machine.

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘The thing today, with your husband, is it always like that?’ His face closed off, a serious shadow cast over it. ‘He seemed a little aggressive.’

  Lucy thought of the slap, but shook her head. ‘He’s not like that normally. He’s mad at me. I didn’t help matters really.’

  Sam nodded once, but the shadow was still there.

  ‘You sure?’

  She smiled at him. ‘He’s not a bad guy, and he’s never hurt me.’ She looked out of the door, at the staircase, as though expecting Xander to be sat there, listening. ‘He made a mistake, and I’m not sure I can forgive him for it. I think that we’ve been growing apart a while, and …’ She sighed before picking up her half empty wine glass from the countertop and taking a mouthful. ‘It’s complicated I guess. We came here for the summer to enjoy being away, but the longer I’m away from home, the less I want to go back.’

  She picked up the wine bottle and turned to him.

  ‘Do you want to sit in the lounge for a moment?’ She was enjoying talking to him, and found she wasn’t in a hurry to sit alone for the rest of the evening, watching TV and drinking the rest of the bottle alone.

  ‘You sure I’m not stopping you from doing anything?’

  She shook her head, heading through to the lounge. ‘Nope, nothing to do.’

  They sat on the sofa, at opposite ends, settling back into the seats and sipping their wine. The coffee table was clear of Lego thankfully, and she set the wine bottle down after refilling both their glasses.

  ‘So, are you a full-time mum normally?’

  She loved how he phrased the question. Usually it was ‘Do you work?’ which always made her feel like a bum, even though she was a trained professional. In another life perhaps, but still. Some people thought that a lobotomy was performed after labour, a bit like the Bounty photographer who came around the ward to photograph your precious bundles. Like K, men in blacking every new mother with his flashy memory eraser. ‘Look right here and smile!’

  ‘I work in a deli part-time. I used to be a primary school teacher, but when Xander started struggling, I left to be home for him.’

  ‘He’s a lovely kid, you’re doing a great job.’ He looked across at her, leaning forward a little. ‘Hard though, isn’t it?’

  Lucy sighed. ‘It’s not been easy, and Iain and I have struggled. I thought we’d pull together, but …’

  ‘It’s hard for a man sometimes, to see his son struggle. I’m not saying it’s right, but I’ve seen it before. Have you talked about it?’

  ‘We’ve done nothing but talk, not that it does any good.’ She took another sip of her wine, enjoying the sensation of the chilled beverage as it both warmed and relaxed her. ‘I think he blames me sometimes. I don’t know why. Like because I noticed it first, I caused it somehow. I feel like sometimes he wishes I hadn’t said anything.’ She stretched out her feet in front of her, slipping off her pale pink pumps and flexing her toes. ‘Anyway, I’m sorry you had to see that today. I’m not going to be a troublesome neighbour, I promise.’

  Sam laughed, a deep rumble that made Lucy smile.

  ‘I’m not worried about that. Especially after that meal. Best neighbour ever.’

  She giggled, slapping him on the arm before she checked herself. He laughed again, rubbing his arm and wincin
g.

  ‘Ow Lucy, I take it back! Worst neighbour ever! Not even your lasagne can be worth the bruises.’

  She drained her glass, and he picked up the bottle and refilled it automatically.

  ‘Thanks. You’re such a gent, did they teach you these manners at fireman school?’

  ‘They teach you to save lives and protect each other in fire school. My mum’s a very polite woman, she brought me up right. I’ll tell her you said that, she’ll be pleased as punch.’

  ‘You’re really close, aren’t you,’ she observed, standing to turn off the main lights and switch on the standing lamp in the corner. It bathed the lounge in a warm glow, and, with the drapes pulled, it looked cosy and warm. It felt like home. ‘Do you know about your birth parents?’

  Sam looked uncomfortable and before she knew what she had done, she’d moved closer to him on the couch and placed her hand over his.

  ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’ He looked at her hand on his, saying nothing, and she went to pull it away, but he clasped his other hand over it, sandwiching hers between them. Looking up at her, she noticed his gaze flick to her lips, and she found herself licking them in response. He looked into her eyes and then slowly, gently, moved his hands away, his thumb leaving an imaginary trail of heat along hers.

  ‘Can I tell you something?’ he asked, his voice thick with something she hadn’t heard before. It made his rumbling voice richer, sexier. ‘It’s weird, but I feel like I can tell you this, like I can trust you.’

  You can tell me anything … she thought dreamily. You’re a part-time stripper in your spare time and you have tickets. Tucked into your pants. Grab and go.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, rather more breathily than she intended. ‘Of course you can.’

  He sighed and turned away a little, reaching into his jean pocket. Oh my God, if he pulls show tickets out, I’m going to faint. Sensational Sam and his big pole. Move over, Magic Mike. Thank you, next.

  He pulled out a piece of paper and held it out to her. Once she realised it didn’t have a naked torso printed on it, she came to her senses and took the folded note from him. It was expensive paper, she could see an emblem on the top. The Mayweather coat of arms, with Mayweather Estates printed underneath it. It had been folded and unfolded many times, the creases less rigid, more like well-worn paper. She looked at him in question, and he nodded.