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Authors: Betsy St. Amant

Fireman Dad (15 page)

BOOK: Fireman Dad
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The stew began to boil, mirroring the turmoil in his stomach. Jacob turned down the burners and hollered into the living area, “Soup’s on!” He grabbed three bowls from the cabinet and turned, nearly bumping into Captain Walker.

“Here you are. Steve thought you were in the front yard.” Captain took the bowls from Jacob so he could grab the spoons and napkins. “I’ve wanted to talk to you.”

“Sorry, Captain. Steve’s the one who typically abandons the stove while cooking dinner, not me.” Jacob flashed a grin he didn’t feel inside and strode past the captain to the worn wooden table in the living area where they ate.

Captain followed with the bowls, which Jacob began placing around the table with a louder clatter than he intended. The captain’s eyebrows rose. “Bad day?”

“Just a lot on my mind, sir.” Somewhat of an understatement, but Jacob couldn’t exactly bear his burden on his superior. Not about this.

“Well, maybe my news will cheer you up.” Captain cleared his throat. “What if I told you that you were up for the position of driver?”

Jacob looked up from the table, nearly dropping the bowl in his hands. “What?”

“Don’t get too excited.” Captain Walker held up both hands in warning. “Obviously there’s no room in the budget for a raise right now. But it’d be a promotion in rank, and eventually the pay would increase.”

Jacob’s pulse hammered in his veins as he struggled to
decide if this would be good news or bad. Driver. That meant his focus would be on the truck and pumping water to the firemen, instead of being on the front lines himself. Accepting the position would mean leaving the duties he enjoyed now—actually fighting fires—but it might open a door to ease Marissa’s fears. Not to mention once the pay did increase, he could fill the hole in his savings from helping Ryan and Liz.

But he’d be giving up the job he loved, for an indefinite period of time, with no financial benefit. Jacob frowned.

“You’d move to either a different station or a different shift, since we don’t need you and Steve both as drivers here. But think about it. The chief wanted me to mention it.” Captain laughed as he clapped Jacob on the back. “Seems like he’s forgiven you for the water hose incident.”

Chief Brady. Jacob’s heart plummeted to his stomach, effectively killing his appetite for dinner. Now his career would be in even more jeopardy if the chief discovered his growing feelings for Marissa. The promotion and raise would be a moot point if he got on the chief’s bad side. Jacob might be forgiven for spraying him with water, but the chief might not be so easily swayed about his only daughter. Jacob would have to be even more careful about hiding the intentions of his heart—but if he was forced to become more obvious in his pursuit of Marissa, how was that possible?

His head pounded. “Give me some time, Captain. I’ll let you know.”

“No problem. It’s not a done deal, anyway. Just let me know by the end of next week and I’ll pass on the word.” Captain took his place at the table and frowned. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Feeling like he was stuck on autopilot, Jacob headed back into the kitchen to bring the pot of stew to the table, his thoughts racing faster than the fire trucks he’d soon be driving.

Or would he?

Chapter Sixteen

M
arissa lay in her bed beneath cool sheets, watching the ceiling fan whirl in the dim glow of her alarm clock as Liz’s words circled her brain in an equally fast manner.
Sometimes the joys of life are a risk. Friendships, working relationships, romantic relationships.
She adjusted the pillow under her head and sighed. Liz was right. Nothing in life was simple or came freely—she’d learned that particular lesson early on. But that didn’t make the pain from going through the hard times any easier to bear. Not with Kevin, not with her dad.

Not with Jacob.

She flipped over on her side with a huff, wishing sleep would come and rob her off these relentless, restless thoughts. Maybe the choices she’d made about avoiding firemen—even her own father—had come with a price tag, but those choices had also kept her and Owen safe. Safe from heartache, safe from pain, safe from grave sites.

Safe from love,
her conscience mocked her, and for the first time in a long while, Marissa wondered if the price tag was steeper than she was willing to pay. What if she let her father back into her and Owen’s life? Would
he even want back in? She’d shut that door physically when she moved across the state with Kevin years ago, but now that she was in Orchid Hill again, there were no more barriers other than the emotional walls she’d constructed. Her mother fit into Owen’s life; why couldn’t the chief? Would he even be willing to spend his precious time away from the station to be involved?

Or was it simply too late? Memories of Owen as an infant in her dad’s arms for the first time flooded her mind. Owen’s chubby cheeks and her father’s proud grandpa smile. They’d put aside their differences at Owen’s birth. What had happened in the years to follow?

And Jacob. Marissa covered her eyes with one hand and groaned. His smile and caring eyes danced before her and she quickly opened her eyes. Yet his image lingered in her exhausted mind. She couldn’t escape her feelings for him, any more than she could rewind time and prevent Kevin from going to work that fateful day in December. She’d risked a lot marrying Kevin, knowing the life of a fireman’s family was more difficult than most. It seemed crazy to risk it again, after living through her worst nightmare at his funeral.

But trying to deny her growing feelings for Jacob seemed just as impossible. What blessings would she miss by clinging to her resolve to be “safe”? But what heartache would she have to endure if she took the risk?

Her cell suddenly blared from her nightstand, and Marissa jerked upright, tossing the covers back in an attempt to grab the phone before it woke Owen down the hall. Her feet tangled in the sheets and she flopped hard across the bed on her stomach, catching a glimpse of the alarm clock. 1:45 a.m. She snatched the phone, scraping it against the table as her heart drummed in her throat. “Hello?”

“Marissa, it’s Jacob.” His voice, tighter than a wound coil, simmered through the line, only adding to her anxiety. “I’m sorry to have to wake you.”

“Is everything all right? Is Liz okay? Olivia?” Marissa pressed a shaky hand to her forehead as her stomach performed cartwheels, imagining the worst.

“They’re fine.” Jacob hesitated. “It’s your dad. He’s on his way to the E.R. with severe chest pains.”

Marissa sucked in a deep breath of air that suddenly felt frigid to her lungs, and her cell phone slipped from her fingers onto the bed. Jacob’s voice, tiny and muted, continued to sound from the top of the covers but she didn’t care. Minutes ago she’d been worried that it was too late for her and her father to ever repair their relationship after all they’d been through.

Now it might be later than she’d thought.

“Where is he?” Marissa’s sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floor as she paced in front of the receptionist area. The woman behind the desk, who seemed to be moving much too slowly to work in the E.R., made a few clicks of her computer mouse, her expression unnervingly calm.

“Your father was just brought in, ma’am. He’s still being treated.”

“But for what? What happened?” Marissa gripped the counter and fought the hysterics rising in her chest. “All I know is chest pains.” Severe chest pains, Jacob had said. How severe? How serious? Was she too late?

“That’s all they know at this point, too.” The receptionist’s dark eyes warmed with sympathy. “Maybe you’d like some coffee while you wait? There’s a machine just down the hall.”

Sympathy, maybe, but she probably also wanted
Marissa to get away from her desk before she made her dizzy from the pacing. Marissa could take a hint. But she hesitated to let go of the counter for fear her trembling legs wouldn’t support her.

Sudden arms wrapped around her shoulders, and Marissa sensed it was Jacob before he even spoke. “It’s okay. He’ll be fine.”

With a muted cry, Marissa burrowed into his embrace, his warm baritone vibrating through his chest against her ear, his T-shirt soft against her cheek. She clung like a drowning woman as the sobs began to build.

“This way.” Jacob eased Marissa away long enough to hook an arm around her waist and guide her away from the E.R. “There’s a nicer waiting area down the hall with coffee. Your mom was there before they let her go back with the chief.”

“So Mom is with him now?” At Jacob’s nod, Marissa took a shaky breath through her tears. No wonder her mom hadn’t answered the dozen calls to her cell Marissa had made on the way to the hospital. At least her father wasn’t alone, although she couldn’t remember a time growing up the chief had been scared. He wasn’t afraid of anything.

But this incident had her shaken to the core.

“I volunteered to call you so your mom could hurry back with him once they allowed it,” Jacob said as he gestured toward the waiting room chairs. “She was a little rattled, understandably. I don’t know if she would have made much sense to you.”

Probably for the best. Her mother didn’t handle tragedy well, a fact proven about five years ago when Marissa had to make one very hard phone call herself.

“Black coffee okay?” Jacob helped Marissa into the blue plastic chair. “We might be here awhile.” He
counted loose change in his hand while he waited for her answer.

She nodded numbly, the past and present tumbling over themselves in rampant succession.
Don’t go back there, Marissa. Don’t do it.

“I’ll make sure the receptionist knows to tell your mother you’re out here, okay? I’ll be right back.” Jacob offered a reassuring smile before practically jogging down the long, fluorescent-lit hallway toward the vending area. For the first time, the writing on the back of his shirt, ORCHID HILL F.D., did nothing to set off her emotions. They were already on overload, and she stared at the letters growing smaller before Jacob turned the corner.

She closed her eyes, head resting against the hard back of the chair, the wooden armrests biting into her forearms, and tried to think positively. Tried to pray. But all she could remember was a similar night of a knock on the door and bad news that rocked her world forever. Scrambling to find a babysitter last minute, just like she’d done tonight. Rushing to the hospital even though she knew it was too late.

She couldn’t be too late again. Not when she’d finally had a breakthrough of the dark cynicism surrounding her memories of her dad.
Please, God.
She repeated the mantra over and over.

“Here you go. It’s hot.” A warm cup was shoved in her hands and Marissa looked up, nearly drowning in the compassion radiating from Jacob’s expression. “I brought sugar packets just in case. This stuff is stout.”

“Why are you here?” Marissa took a sip, wincing at both the searing of her tongue and the words that tumbled out harsher than she intended. Jacob flinched as he sat down beside her, and she instinctively touched his
arm to erase her mistake. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry.”

He nodded. “I know. It’s the stress talking, I’ve seen it more often than I’d like.” He cradled his steaming cup in his hands and sighed. “I was at the station when I heard the chief had been working late at headquarters, and fell down with pain in his office at the main complex. He was able to dial 911, which obviously alerted us.” Jacob shrugged. “I couldn’t let you go through this alone. I rode with the chief in the ambulance and made sure your mom was notified before calling you.”

“That was thoughtful.” Marissa’s words came out a whisper and she cleared her throat of the residual emotion that seemed lodged inside. “Thank you.”

Jacob met her gaze then, his eyes reflecting their usual warmth and sensitivity. “How’s Owen? Did you tell him?”

“No, I didn’t want to scare him. On the way to Liz’s house I just told him I had to take care of something and would call him in the morning.” Marissa sipped her coffee, now a more tolerable heat. “I think he was too sleepy to care.”

“I’m sorry about all this. But if it helps, your dad never lost consciousness, which is a great sign. I think if he could have ordered the paramedic around, he would have.” Jacob winked.

“Sounds like Dad.” Marissa smiled, but it slowly faded as a fresh burst of fear erupted in her stomach. “What if he’s not going to be okay? What if he has permanent heart damage? Or can’t work anymore?” Tears clogged her eyes and she jammed her palm against the dam threatening to explode. “That alone would kill him if this doesn’t.” Ironic that she was now concerned her
father wouldn’t be able to do the very thing she resented his entire life. What was wrong with her?

Jacob set his coffee on the table by the row of chairs and drew Marissa as close as the armrest between them would allow. “It’s okay,” he whispered against her hair. “God hasn’t forgotten your father. Or you.”

“You say that so confidently.” Marissa sniffed and pulled away, embarrassment at her lack of composure heating her face. She couldn’t even think about how she must look—tearstained cheeks, no makeup, sloppy ponytail fresh from bed. She did a double take at her clothes to make sure she’d actually thrown on something decent before running out of the house, relieved to see her favorite football team sweatshirt and faded jeans.

“I am confident,” Jacob answered. He hesitated, as if not sure how much to say or how much physical space to give her. He finally slid back into his chair, turning slightly to face her and crossing his ankles. “Pastor Rob makes that abundantly clear each Sunday from Bible passages. God’s word never lies.”

Marissa plucked at the loose strands of fabric covering the hole in her jeans. “It’s easier to believe that more at certain times than others.”

“Others meaning in an E.R.?”

She swallowed. “Or at a grave site.”

Jacob’s heart welled with mixed emotion—compassion, frustration and a tightening in his chest he could only label love.
God, I want to fix this, and I can’t.
He couldn’t erase the past, and at the moment, his hands were tied regarding a future with Marissa, too. But he had the present, and if all he could do was offer Marissa a comforting shoulder now, he’d do it.

Even if it ripped apart his insides.

“Is this bringing back bad memories?” He kept his voice low, not willing to let the older man who settled into a chair across from them in on their sensitive conversation.

“A few.” Marissa rubbed the length of her face with her hand. Jacob’s eyes felt as bloodshot as hers looked, and he took another sip of coffee.

“I get the feeling you and your father have never been … close.” Jacob darted a sideways glance her direction, hoping he hadn’t overstepped his boundaries.

Marissa shrugged. “That’s probably the understatement of the century.”

“What happened?”

The simple question unleashed a torrent of words from Marissa, each sentence spilling over the other in a waterfall of pain and regret. Missed recitals. Late nights. Too many gruff words, not enough affection. “He was never there.” She sniffed as she summed up the fast-forward account of her childhood. “And then I pushed him away in defense.” She shook her head. “And if I’m completely honest, also as punishment.”

“Understandable. You were hurting.” Jacob touched her hand, grateful she didn’t pull away. “You’ve been through a lot in your life, Marissa. More than I could imagine. Don’t let the guilt trips beat you up now.” Jacob hated that his suspicions had been right. No wonder Marissa hated the idea of getting involved with a fireman. Not only had her husband died on the job, but her experience within the family of a fireman had also been negative. She’d already had two strong strikes against the career—there was no way she’d be interested in a third with him. The thought brought equal measures of understanding and grief.

“There was so much I should have done differently.”
She stared aimlessly toward the magazines spread on the table before them, their pages tattered and worn from too many fingers anxiously flipping through. Tired. Worn. He could relate.

Jacob threaded his fingers through Marissa’s, hope rising as she gripped his hand tighter. “I wish I could help.”
I wish I could find a solution. I wish I could make this work.
But he couldn’t say that. Not without taking advantage of her emotions.

“You are helping.” She finally looked up, an exhausted but grateful smile turning her lips. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be sitting here alone.” Then she leaned sideways and rested her head on his shoulder.

Jacob tilted his head to subtly breathe in the sweet aroma of her hair. He never wanted her to be alone again. But this wasn’t exactly the time or place to make such a declaration—not with her father’s life in jeopardy, and not with his own career on the line. He knew better than to rush important moments in the face of potential tragedy, and didn’t want either of them to say anything they’d regret later.

But the longer she nestled against his arm, the more he realized he’d regret not saying something a whole lot more.

He sat up, easing her away to meet his gaze. His heart thundered a storm in his chest and his blood raced. This was probably one of the dumbest things he’d ever do, but he had to say what he felt. He swallowed hard, his tongue thick with anxiety. “Marissa, I—”

“Marissa!” Her mother stepped into the waiting room, dark circles under her eyes, arms crossed over her thin body. A tired smile lit her face, chasing away the shadows of fear. “I’m so glad you made it.”

BOOK: Fireman Dad
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