Fireman Dad (9 page)

“This is exactly why I didn’t want you to get involved with the community fundraiser.”

Her hopes fell at his harsh tone, shattering into multiple shards near her bruised toe. Figured. Her dad had about as many emotions as Owen had stain-free T-shirts. She sighed. “Dad, I—”

“I’m serious, Marissa. This is above your head. We’ve gotten email threats and had vandalism at several stations. You can’t tell me it’s unrelated to the layoffs.” A siren punctuated his sentence and he waited until it passed, then lowered his voice. “This was an arson fire.”

“What? The news anchor said electrical.” Arson? Not in Orchid Hill—impossible. Orchid Hill was considered by many magazines to be “the biggest little small town in the Deep South.” That kind of crime just didn’t happen.

The chief snorted. “The media reports what we tell them—at least at first. Technically, it was electrical.”

Marissa frowned. “Then what’s the problem?”

“It was electrical, as in someone broke inside the office complex to the main, cut the electrical wires and created sparks—then helped things along with gasoline.”

Oh.
Still, that didn’t prove a connection to the layoffs. He was being paranoid. “Dad, the community isn’t holding a grudge. Everyone wants to help, hence the whole point of the fundraiser.” She bit her lip to keep from adding what she really wanted to say—that her dad could have possibly saved those men’s jobs if he’d been willing to risk negative publicity and fight for them.

“I don’t think it’s that simple. People do crazy things for revenge and no one knows how to start a fire better than a fireman.”
A hiss, probably steam from the hoses, sounded over the line, followed by the slamming of what was likely a car door. “Listen, I need to go. I only wanted to tell you to quit this fundraiser nonsense and think logically.”

She balked. “Tell me?”

The chief coughed. “All right, all right—
ask
you to reconsider your involvement with the fundraiser. I’d rather you stay out of the media altogether. We don’t want any criminals getting ideas.”

The word
ask
had likely lodged in his throat a few times before emerging. Marissa would have laughed if the entire situation wasn’t so unbelievably frustrating. She clenched the phone in a tight grip and shook her head. “It’s too late. Things are already in the works.” An image of Jacob teased the fringes of her mind and she swallowed.
More than you know.
“Besides, I’m still not convinced this fire is connected anyway. You’re jaded.”

“And you’re naive.” He muttered something that might have been a goodbye before the line clicked into silence.

Marissa returned the phone to its receiver, wishing she’d been able to ask about Jacob’s involvement with the fire tonight. But her father would have said something if any of his men had been injured—and so would the news anchor.

The chief’s words replayed in Marissa’s head as she watched the flames slowly extinguish on the television.
The media reports what we tell them.

She turned the TV off with a click and made her way through the dark living room to her bedroom. Her dad didn’t have the right to be overprotective anymore. He gave that up with every missed party, late dinner and
skipped school play. Besides, she knew the people of Orchid Hill. No one would react to the layoffs in such a drastic manner. Her father was mistaken. About a lot of things.

J
acob had never seen anyone so beautiful look so nervous. He watched Marissa clutch a Bible in her left hand, her right hand absently working the purple jeweled charm on the end of her necklace as she looked down at Owen. “You sure you’ll be okay, buddy?” Her purple silky dress, cinched in the middle with a black belt, set off the blond in her hair and the green in her eyes until Jacob could hardly bear to look away.

Owen frowned up at his mom, as if he couldn’t imagine why she’d even ask such a thing. “Uh, yeah, Mom. You said this would be fun, didn’t you? Not like real school.”

Marissa smiled, but the motion was almost lost beneath the worry in her eyes. “You’re right. It will be fun.” She looked away, biting her lower lip, and Jacob frowned. There was no way she was this worked up over her son going to a Sunday school class. No, there was something else causing the bags beneath her eyes and the lines in her brow and he didn’t think it had anything to do with the stress over Olivia’s upcoming party or the fundraiser.

More likely it had everything to do with the panicked
glances she kept casting around them as if the church might literally bite her if she stayed a moment longer.

“It’ll be great.” Jacob shifted his weight, not used to standing in one place for so long in his dress shoes that squashed his toes—and also not fooled by Marissa’s fake smile. He wished he could hug her. But that would be overstepping the defined line drawn in the proverbial sand. He cleared his throat, leaning closer and lowering his voice to avoid drawing Owen’s attention. “Are you okay?”

Marissa nodded, meeting his eyes briefly before glancing back at her son. “I’m fine.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but Olivia interrupted. “Our teacher is nice,” she assured Owen, looking sweet as always in a floral-print dress and pink shoes. “I think this week we’re going to learn about Noah. He’s the guy who built a really big boat.”

“Awesome. Boats are almost as cool as fire trucks.” Owen beamed with excitement, and Jacob caught the wince Marissa stifled a moment too late. He quickly checked his watch. The service was about to start, and not a minute too soon. He still didn’t understand Marissa’s aversion to firefighting, but he could save them from this moment, if nothing else. He hunched down, not caring if he wrinkled his carefully ironed pants, and reached out to Owen. “Want me to walk you to your class, buddy? We better hurry—it’s almost time for it to start.” He felt Marissa’s sharp gaze stab the side of his face at the unintentional use of her son’s nickname, and his heart sank like a rock to the pit of his stomach.
Uh-oh.

Thankfully, Liz took over before he could cause another blunder—or before Owen could eagerly take him up on his apparently inappropriate offer. Liz gently
touched Owen’s shoulder, steering him with Olivia toward the double doors at the end of the church foyer. “Olivia will show you where to go, Owen. We’ll see you after the service, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Mom!” Owen waved cheerfully to Marissa before turning and running with Olivia toward their room. He made race car noises and they laughed as they skidded around the corner, Olivia’s pink hair ribbon trailing behind them.

“That was easy.” Liz laughed, but Marissa still looked more upset than amused. The rock wedged in Jacob’s stomach and refused to budge. He shouldn’t have been so careless, stepping in like that. He didn’t have the right. But he could tell by the way Owen had remained stuck like glue to his side during the school presentation and this morning that he trusted him, looked up to him—even before Jacob knew the connection with Marissa. How could he blow that off?

“Come on. We’d better go find Ryan.” Jacob gestured for the ladies to walk first, wishing he could put his hand on Marissa’s back to guide her as they went. He opened the sanctuary doors and they filed into the pew near the middle that Ryan had saved for them.

“Sit by me, Marissa.” Liz settled into the seat by her husband and motioned for Marissa to slide in next. She dutifully followed, and Jacob sat on the end, hoping he hadn’t landed too close—though he would likely feel her presence even from an entirely different row. Liz made quick introductions between Ryan and Marissa, and they shook hands as the organist played a rousing chorus.

Jacob glanced at Marissa. But she still wasn’t looking at him. Should he apologize for the endearment he’d used toward Owen or let it go? He debated, but the music
minister requested the congregation rise before he could decide.

Marissa stood beside Jacob as he opened the thick hymnal, the lilac scent of her hair distracting him from the words on the page. He sung the lines about grace and redemption, stealing glances at Marissa from the corner of his eye. Her expression still waxed pale and she clenched the pew in front of her with white knuckles as she sang softly along.

Man, he wanted more Sundays like this. Preferably without her being angry at him, of course, but with time maybe her dislike of the fire department would cease and therefore her overprotection of Owen as well.

But that still didn’t change the fact that Marissa was the chief’s daughter—a truth that was slowly becoming less and less relevant the longer he breathed in the sweet smell of her hair. Maybe some things were worth the risk.

From down the pew, Ryan’s rich baritone filled the air with the closing chorus, and Jacob’s hopes crashed with reality. His little brother sang as wholeheartedly as he did everything else in his life—his family, his work, his faith. Ryan trusted that God would provide for his family despite their dismal financial circumstances, and right now that provision was funneling straight through Jacob.

Leaving no room for a lilac-scented distraction.

She didn’t belong here. Not in the pew, surrounded by people openly living their faith, not in church, where she’d barely set foot for the past five years—and certainly not beside Jacob, the scent of his spicy cologne making her wish she could rewrite the last several days of history and start over. Really start over—not just
with the tentative truce they’d formed, but further back than that, when he’d first strolled into her life across the parking lot of Your Special Day. Maybe if she’d guarded her heart and remained professional instead of allowing herself the long-buried joy of flirting, of feeling attractive and like a woman instead of a mother, she could have avoided the ache that came with sitting so close to Jacob—yet remaining so painfully far away.

Marissa stared at the preacher standing in the pulpit, his booming voice causing congregation members to nod in agreement or voice hushed
amens
as the truths of the sermon pierced their hearts. She used to be one of them, sitting on the second or third row at her old church, soaking in God’s word and making excuses for her husband’s absence, knowing full well that if Kevin wasn’t at the station he likely wouldn’t have been on the bench beside her anyway. Kevin had considered religion more of a crutch than a real way of living, a way to fellowship with God. Despite his showing interest in faith when they’d dated, he changed his mind after they married.

Like he’d done with a lot of things.

Jacob shifted on the pew beside Marissa, his leg nearly grazing hers in the cramped space, and she stared at his hands clutching a well-worn, dog-eared copy of the Bible. She could feel his presence next to her as tangibly as if they were touching, and she quickly looked back at the pulpit as Jacob’s gaze drifted sideways toward her. Did he feel the connection, too? Judging from his sidelong glances, he might. But it didn’t matter. Couldn’t.

God, why does the perfect man have to embody all of my worst fears?
The prayer slipped easily from her mind toward the high ceiling of the church, and for the first time in a while, seemed as if it didn’t merely bounce off
the wooden structure but made its way to the heavens.
Are You still listening?
Not that she deserved to have her prayers answered. She’d turned away from God after Kevin’s death—making her as guilty as Kevin for turning away while he was still alive.

She studied Jacob’s profile as he listened to the pastor. His dark hair grazing his collar, his strong jaw boasting just a hint of shadow. He wasn’t really perfect. After all, he’d hurt her feelings in the first week they’d met and continually upset her with his closeness to her son. No one was truly perfect. But a man who loved his family, spoiled his niece, helped a stranger with a flat tire and obviously spent time with his creased leather Bible sure did come pretty close.

Yet even if Jacob felt the freedom to risk his career for her—and it would be a risk, she knew her father well—he was still a man who would ultimately put his career first. It was the nature of the job, as the chief and Kevin had proven over and over. Jacob would still be on call, working long hours, missing family events and scaring her with every missed phone call. As different as Kevin and Jacob appeared to be, nothing would be different at all as long as he was a fireman.

A chuckle from the congregation wrenched Marissa from the shackles of the past and the shadows of the future, and guilt spread through her stomach. The sermon was wrapping up and she’d not comprehended a single word. She stood numbly beside Jacob as the organ offered a coaxing melody down the aisle. The familiar words of the hymn burned her mind, filling her eyes with tears. She had never felt more unsteady in her life. Emotionally, physically, mentally. The room started to spin and she automatically touched Jacob’s shoulder to balance herself.

“Are you okay?” His rich, warm voice filled her insides with longing and regret. No, she wasn’t okay—and she wouldn’t be as long as she kept reminding herself of everything she’d lost and could never have again. With God. With her faith.

With Jacob.

Marissa’s hand fell to her side as the room straightened, and she forced a smile and nod to reassure him. His eyes remained locked on hers as the organ released the final chords of the music, urging people to come forward.

But her feet remained rooted in place.

The congregation filed out of the sanctuary, a steady stream of voices greeting each other, making plans to get together and debating lunch options. Jacob pressed as close to Marissa as he dared and bent down toward her ear. “Are you sure you’re all right?” He hated to pester her—she’d already said yes twice—but she’d looked so little and lost, standing there in the row at church, clutching his shirtsleeve between her fingers and swaying slightly in place. She didn’t look much better now, but at least the color had returned to her face and she seemed somewhat steadier.

Marissa smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m fine. Like I said, I think my blood sugar dropped a little. I probably need to eat lunch.” Her eyes scanned the passing crowd from their vantage point against the far wall of the lobby, probably searching for her son. Liz had braved the crowd to get the kids from their class, and Ryan stood a few feet away giving a deacon of the church an update about his job situation.

“Maybe we can all go get something to eat together.” Jacob forced a happy note into his voice. Hopefully
there’d be room for a cheeseburger with all the guilt he still felt rumbling around his stomach every time Ryan explained his financial situation to a caring church member. Even though Ryan didn’t blame him and Jacob knew he hadn’t forced his little brother into the career, he still felt responsible. No one else seemed to understand the tie between big bro and little bro, especially when Jacob had spent a good part of his teen years taking care of Ryan while their single mother worked two jobs to get by. “My treat, of course.”

Marissa turned toward him then, and he nearly took a step back at the pain in her sage green eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

He held up both hands in defense. “Hey, it’s only lunch. If you’d rather wait and let me buy dinner instead, that works, too.”

The humor zipped straight over Marissa’s head. Her mouth formed a thin, straight line and her eyes narrowed slightly. Jacob lowered his hands with a sigh. “I’m kidding.”

“I see that.” Still no smile.

“Why am I doing what? I don’t get it.”

“That’s the problem.” She shook her head, her hair brushing against the shoulders of her dress. The golden strands against the purple fabric reminded him of royalty, and his own words from the party supply store at the Boardwalk danced in his mind’s eye.
Every girl deserves to be a princess for a day.
Marissa’s abrupt change of subject in the store that night and the current exhaustion in her eyes and tired slump of her shoulders proved she still didn’t believe him.

“You’re too nice to me.” The words fell off her lips as she stood, staring into the crowd once again, her arms crossed defensively across her chest. “We don’t need charity, and neither does your brother.”

“It’s not charity to offer to take my family out to lunch.” Jacob’s defenses rose and he crossed his own arms, mirroring her posture. What did she know about his family or his intentions? That wasn’t fair.

“I’m not your family.” She leveled her gaze on him in a pointed expression. “And neither is Owen.”

He stared down at his shiny dress shoes, nodding a few times and gathering his composure before speaking. “I’m sorry I used your nickname for Owen earlier this morning, and offered to walk him to class. That obviously crossed a line.”

“I’m really careful about Owen getting to know the men in my life. I have to protect him.”

Men? Plural? Jacob winced. The thought burned his gut and he drew a deep breath. “I’m sure that’s tough, and again, I’m sorry. It wasn’t intentional. We really clicked at his school the other day and—”

“Nothing is intentional with you, is it?”

Jacob’s head jerked in surprise, but Marissa wasn’t done. “First you didn’t intentionally mean to hide your job from me, and now you’re unintentionally bonding with my son. When will you just own up to what you do, Kevin?”

Understanding dawned in Jacob’s mind as horror flashed in Marissa’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—that was a slip—my husband.” She covered her mouth with both hands.

“It’s okay.” Without thinking, Jacob gathered Marissa into his arms and pressed her head against his chest. His heart rocked a beat that would surely make her deaf, but holding her felt like nothing else ever had. She fit perfectly in his embrace, and he didn’t care if old Widow Township was frowning with disapproval over her specs across the lobby. Who knew how long it’d been since
Marissa had a real hug from someone who cared? She deserved that—and so much more.