Fireman Dad (10 page)

“It’s been an … emotional morning,” she whispered into his shirt. “I haven’t been to church since Kevin died. I—it was harder than I thought.”

She missed her husband. Understandable, yet at the same time, dismay tightened its grip on Jacob’s heart and disappointment broke a sweat onto his hairline. It’d been how many years since Kevin’s death? And she still grieved to this level? Maybe it was for the best Jacob couldn’t start a relationship with Marissa. Even if he was somehow able to secure the chief’s blessing, she obviously wasn’t anywhere near ready for such a step.

Jacob didn’t protest as she stepped out of his embrace, sniffing and dabbing her eyes with the cuff of her dress. Owen rounded the corner then, carrying a construction paper ark and his children’s Bible, Liz and Olivia right behind him. “Hey, Mom! Look what we made! Noah is the coolest guy ever.” He babbled on about the animals going two by two into the giant boat, thankfully not seeming to notice the redness in Marissa’s eyes. She recovered well, sharing a big smile that seemed more genuine toward her son than it had toward Jacob all morning. Marissa listened as Owen carried on, then mouthed “thank you” to Jacob over the top of her son’s head.

Jacob nodded, afraid to speak lest his own emotion overtake him. But Liz caught the exchange and frowned, her eyes darting between him and Marissa’s turned back as Marissa steered her son toward the parking lot—and a fast getaway. Jacob shook his head at his sister-in-law, not up for any matchmaking right now.

Maybe not ever.

T
he stapler slammed against the stack of invoices with more force than necessary.
Bam!
Marissa felt so stupid, accidentally calling Jacob by her husband’s name yesterday at church.
Bam!
How ridiculous and overemotional could she be? She’d totally overreacted, but Jacob reminding her of his bonding with Owen at school had set her off like a time bomb.
Bam!
Jacob probably thought that she’d had this rotten, awful marriage, spouting her pent-up anger at Jacob in Kevin’s stead. And well, some parts had been pretty awful, but not all of it. Besides, that was hardly the impression she wanted to leave on the man she was growing more attracted to despite every effort toward the opposite.

Marissa straightened the stapled invoices on her desk into tidy piles, hating that they blurred beneath her teary eyes. She blinked rapidly to clear them. When did her life become so dramatic? She’d been lying low, focusing on her job and Owen for the majority of the last five years, and had been doing fine. Lonely, maybe—but fine. Yet she’d cried more in the past week than she had since Kevin’s funeral.

It changed when you met Jacob,
a small voice prompted her conscience.

Marissa gritted her teeth. She wished she had something else to staple to drown out the voice of truth. The tinkling bell sounded suddenly from the front door, and she gratefully waved the delivery man inside. Even if this package came with a bill, it’d be a welcome distraction.

“Delivery for Ms. Hawthorne?” The delivery man walked inside carrying a vase overflowing with deep pink orchids, the arrangement concealing half his face and driving cap. He peered around the bouquet with a smile.

“That’s me.” She cleared a spot on her desk, heart pounding at the beautiful arrangement. “You can set them here.” She watched as the elderly man gingerly set the giant vase on her desk. Who would send her flowers? Surely not her parents—it wasn’t even her birthday. In fact, she hadn’t received anything of this sort since her second year of marriage, when Kevin realized at the last minute that he’d better do
something
for Valentine’s Day.

The man stepped back, pointing to the card tucked on a stand inside the potted dirt. “There’s the note. Have a good day, ma’am.” He winked. “Though I guess it’s nice enough now, huh?”

Marissa smiled, wondering if it’d be rude to snatch the card and rip it open while he was still standing there. “We’ll see.” She waited until he headed back to his truck outside, then grabbed the white sealed packet. Her hands shook as she pulled the card from the mini-envelope.

Marissa closed her eyes, the printed words still visible in her mind. A formal apology. She snorted. She was the one who owed Jacob an apology. What kind of man said he was sorry in person and sent a beautiful flower bouquet the next day? A good man.

She dropped the card in the top drawer of her desk, wishing she could go home and press it, along with a petal from the arrangement, between the pages of her favorite book of poetry. But such antics would lead only to more heartache. Jacob was off-limits in so many ways, she didn’t even know where to start.

The phone trilled on her desk, and she scooped it up, hoping it wasn’t Jacob. What would she say? Apologize for her meltdown at the church? Thank him for the flowers? Too bad she couldn’t click her shiny red heels like one of the characters in Owen’s favorite movie and wish herself someplace far away. “Your Special Day, this is Marissa.”

To her relief, Liz’s perky voice filled the line. “Hey, girl. Busy day?”

Marissa glanced at the flowers on her desk, then at the stacks surrounding them. “No more than usual.”

“What’s the countdown for the festival now?”

Her gaze automatically drifted to the open calendar, not that she needed to double-check to know. “One week and four days.”

“We’ll be ready.” Liz’s statement sounded more like a question.

“We have to be.” Marissa chuckled, but like everything lately, it felt forced. She cleared her throat to try to hide the dismal tone. “What’s up?”

“I was calling to see if you and Owen would like to come over for dinner tomorrow night. I’m cooking up a big pot of gumbo and we need help eating it. Sound good?”

“Sounds great.” Marissa smiled and this time, felt the motion sincerely through and through. As hectic as her schedule was right now between the birthday party and the festival, the surprise of Liz’s friendship made it all worth it. She hadn’t had a girlfriend in a long time—someone to chat with over the phone, stress with at work and trust with her tragic past. She’d ended up confiding in Liz at work the other day about Kevin having been a fireman, and Liz’s sympathy and understanding had helped heal a crack in Marissa’s fragile emotions, bonding them closer together. “What time?”

“Be here at six. I’ll be the one with the chef’s hat!”

“We’ll be there.” Marissa said goodbye and hung up, then made a notation in her daybook. Her pen caught the low-hanging leaves of the orchid arrangement in the vase and she quickly flicked the tip of the pen free, wishing it was as easy to untangle Jacob from her thoughts.
I happen to think Owen is very special … I think you are, too.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me she was coming.” Jacob tried to keep his voice down in Liz’s kitchen, his grip on the wooden spoon tighter than necessary as he stirred the gumbo in the stockpot. He’d been expecting a nice, homemade meal with his family, and instead walked into the house to find Marissa sitting on the ottoman with her son and his niece, playing one of Olivia’s
handheld computer games and looking way too much like she belonged there.

Liz worked a red mitt over her hand and opened the oven door. “Well, I can’t believe you sent her flowers and didn’t tell
me.
” The steaming bread she pulled from the warm rack filled the kitchen with the tangy scent of garlic and butter. Jacob’s stomach growled, but he wouldn’t let his meddling sister-in-law off the hook that easily.

“That was different. This is flat-out matchmaking.” He jammed the lid on the pot and set the spoon on the counter with a clatter. The spicy aroma of sausage and shrimp wafted through the air. He wanted to lick the spoon but didn’t think that would help give his end of the argument much merit.

Liz shut the oven with a smirk as she deposited the bread onto the cooktop. “And sending flowers isn’t a sign of courting?”

“Courting!” Jacob forgot to lower his voice this time. He planted his hands on his hips. “First of all, this isn’t the eighteenth century, and secondly, that’s not the case.”

“Only because you’re both stubborn.” Liz handed him a stack of dishes. “Could you set the table?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You’re changing the subject.”

“Maybe, but you’re denying the inevitable.”

“Uh, guys?” Ryan popped his head into the open doorway of the kitchen, his voice barely above a whisper. “Marissa does have ears, you know. Owen and Olivia are only drowning out so much of this conversation with their debate on which color fruit snack tastes better. Red is winning, if anyone cares.”

“Sorry.” Jacob’s ears burned with as much frustration as embarrassment. He shouldn’t have sent the flowers,
knew they’d give the wrong impression, but he wanted to do something to make Marissa smile again. Wanted to replace the hurt he’d put in her eyes with something warm and light. She deserved that much. He hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. “Listen, Liz, I appreciate your train of thought here, but it’s not going to happen with Marissa and me. It can’t.”
She’s still grieving her ex.
The fact that Jacob had realized that while holding her in his arms inside the church was a cruel twist of the knife.

“I think it can.” Liz turned the burner off on the stove and shoved a pile of napkins on top of the plates Jacob still held.

“That’s not your decision.” Or even his, unfortunately. These matchmaking ways of Liz’s only made the facts hurt that much more. He never would have predicted Marissa would tell Liz about the orchids and he’d spend the rest of the evening justifying his reasons for sending them.

Reasons he still couldn’t fully justify even to himself.

“I’m going to set the table.” Jacob turned his back on Liz’s knowing grin and strode toward the dining room. He was grateful he had a family that cared enough to meddle, but wouldn’t it be enough to feed him from time to time and leave him to his bachelor ways? He knew Liz and Marissa becoming friends would be trouble, but he had no idea exactly how much—until now.

“This is going to be the longest dinner ever.” He set the plates on the table, a little louder than necessary, and hastily crammed a napkin under each one. Too bad he’d have to eat and run. Staying in Marissa’s presence longer than necessary would hurt worse than an upset stomach. He inhaled deeply. Man, that gumbo smelled better than anything he’d had in days—not that that was shocking,
since Steve had been on kitchen duty again. He set the silverware on the table. As soon as they wolfed down dinner, he’d head out.

“The bread pudding’s ready!” Liz called from the kitchen.

Jacob’s stomach flipped in protest. Okay, so maybe he’d stay for dessert. But no longer.

“Mom, Ms. Liz’s gumbo is better than yours. Can you get the recipe?” Owen’s spoon clattered into his empty bowl and Marissa looked up with a start.

Ryan snorted from across the table, then coughed loudly to cover it up. Beside Marissa, Jacob ducked his head, probably in an attempt to hide his own smile. At least they were trying to be polite. A twinge of embarrassment plucked at her, but she couldn’t berate Owen for his honesty. Liz’s gumbo
was
amazing. “Sure, Owen, that can be arranged.” She wouldn’t take it personally. At least he was eating well.

Marissa turned to Liz, who sat at the end of the table by Olivia. “You probably didn’t expect a seven-year-old to eat half the pot.”

“It’s a compliment. I’m honored.” Liz dabbed her mouth with a napkin as she stood. “And I’ll get that recipe for you before you leave. Ryan, would you help me get the dessert, please?” Together they cleared the table, leaving Jacob and Marissa alone with the kids.

Owen and Olivia were now discussing their Sunday school class and what Bible story they might be learning next, jabbering excitedly and leaving Marissa no room for participation. She couldn’t dodge talking directly to Jacob any longer. She’d avoided him most of the evening, which hadn’t been hard since he’d hidden out in the kitchen with Liz before dinner. She could
have sworn she heard her name come up in conversation several times, but figured she was being paranoid. Why would they be discussing her?

Although, Liz had forgotten to tell Marissa that Jacob would be at dinner when she invited her and Owen. Had she done so on purpose?

Marissa glanced Jacob’s way, their elbows nearly touching on the worn tabletop, and quickly lowered her arm to her lap. Dinner had been nice, but borderline awkward. It almost seemed as if Jacob didn’t want her there. But he’d sent the flowers, so that couldn’t be the case. Still, something was a little off. Maybe he felt embarrassed about her slipup at church last Sunday. She knew she did.

“He’s quite the character.” Jacob’s warm voice broke into her thoughts, and Marissa followed his gaze toward Owen. “I’m sure your gumbo is good, too.”

“It’s really not. But thanks.” She smiled, wishing they could find the camaraderie they’d had before her blunder the other day. Her smile faded, and she met Jacob’s eyes, forcing herself not to look away. “I never said thanks for the flowers. So, thanks. They were beautiful.”

Jacob leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “You’re welcome. And it’s my fault. I never really gave you the chance to say anything.” At the end of the table, Olivia giggled at the shadow puppet Owen was making against the dining room wall. He watched them with a slight smile. “I didn’t mean to be so distant this evening. I’m a little frustrated with my sister-in-law, but that’s not your fault.”

Marissa frowned. “What did Liz do?”

“Did she tell you I would be here tonight?”

Marissa shook her head.

“She’s matchmaking.”

“Oh.” Marissa swallowed. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Like I said, not your fault.” Jacob’s gaze collided with hers, and he reached over and squeezed her hand. “I just wish …” His voice trailed off and he abruptly shoved his chair back from the table. “Hey, guys, do you know how to do the goose puppet?” He moved to the end of the table by the kids and arranged Owen’s hands into the proper form for the bird shadow.

Marissa watched with a lump in her throat. Why hadn’t he finished his thought? Maybe he was as intimidated by the truth as she was. Because it didn’t matter what he wished, or even what she wished. Jacob obviously didn’t feel comfortable starting a relationship with her while under her father. And she couldn’t—wouldn’t—feel safe starting one with him as long as he was a fireman.

Jacob laughed then, the rich sound filling the dining room with warmth and a sweetness that settled in Marissa’s heart like the brown sugar and cinnamon on top of Liz’s bread pudding dessert. Who was she kidding? She and Jacob already had a relationship. It just remained locked in a box, starving for air and desperate to grow—but dying a slow death of denial.

Reality stung even more watching Jacob interact with her son. He was good with Owen, listening to his requests, taking his comments seriously, making him feel grown-up and important. Marissa cupped her hands under her chin and watched as Jacob taught both of the kids how to make various animals with their hands, complete with sound effects. He’d be a great father one day. She closed her eyes briefly, wishing away the thought. Even though Jacob showed amazing potential at being a dad, he was still a negative influence on Owen in regard to the one thing Marissa feared most. Owen
already looked up to Jacob with near hero worship. Because of the lack of solid male role models in Owen’s life, she wouldn’t forbid their time together. But neither could she encourage it further by pursuing Jacob.