Lucas had been one of Zach’s best friends at the firehouse. He was the only survivor of the crew who’d gone inside the homeless shelter the night of the fire. Lucas’s father, the captain of Station 2, had died in the blaze that night, too. Jenna had met Manny, but hadn’t known him well. He was one of Zach’s bosses when he and Lucas were rookies in the same training class.
Lucas had hung out at their house sometimes for Monday night football and pizza—when the guys weren’t pulling a shift. And he’d helped Zach hang Sheetrock the year they finished out the basement family room. Jenna felt as if she knew him better than she really did because Zach talked about him so much. Zach practically idolized Lucas—the way he would have a big brother—even though she thought Lucas was a few years younger.
Lucas seemed thinner than she remembered. His Cuban heritage was evident in his jet-black hair and olive skin, and it was good to see him smiling. She noticed his entrance turned more than a few female heads in the coffee shop, and it wasn’t because of his shuffling gait or the cane. Yet he seemed oblivious to the female eyes following him.
She was tempted to pretend she didn’t recognize him. What if he didn’t recognize her? There was talk that he might have suffered a degree of brain damage.
But he seemed like his old self, greeting strangers with a friendly nod and grinning at the toddler perched in a highchair at a table by the door. She didn’t want to be rude, so she picked up her order from the counter, gathered her courage, and wove her way between tables.
She caught his eye. “Lucas?” She held out a hand. “I don’t know if you remember me …”
His eyes lit. “Jenna!” He switched his cane to his other side and shook her hand firmly. “Of course I remember. Good to see you again.”
He sported the same crooked smile she remembered—as if he were about to burst out laughing—but the smile didn’t quite make it to his dark eyes.
Nodding at his cane, she brightened. “You’re getting around a lot better than the last time I saw you.”
He shrugged and dipped his head, and Jenna wondered if he remembered that the last time they’d come face-to-face was just a few weeks after the funerals—which Lucas had missed because he was still in the hospital.
“Well … I’m glad to see you back on your feet.” She cast around, looking in vain for a graceful exit. The line at the counter had grown longer while they exchanged greetings, and she grabbed at the excuse. “Sorry … I’ve made you lose your place in line.”
“Not a problem. I’m in no hurry. Just … killing time.” He glanced around the sunny room where tables were quickly filling up. “Are you staying? Would you mind sharing a table?”
“Oh …” She glanced toward her chair in the sunny corner near a book-lined wall. “I’m over there. In that chair. It doesn’t look like—”
“Help yourself.” An elderly man in the chair adjacent to hers apparently overheard. He rose slowly, plopping a worn fedora on his head. “I was just leaving.”
“Are you sure?” She wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but she could hardly say that to Lucas.
“Absolutely.” The man winked and tipped his hat. “You kids enjoy.”
Settling in the chair, she moved her jacket to reserve the other spot for Lucas while he ordered. She scrambled to think of something they could talk about that didn’t involve the fire.
He carried his coffee over and set it on the wide windowsill behind their chairs, then used his cane to lower himself into the low-slung chair.
Leaning the cane carefully against a nearby bookcase, he let out a sigh and gave her a sheepish grin. Pushing his forearms against the
chair’s armrests, he joked, “I may need a crane to get out of this chair when it’s time to leave.”
She glanced around, then felt silly, realizing she must look as if she were searching for a crane in some hidden corner of Java Joint. “Uh … we’ll figure something out.”
Lucas didn’t seem to notice. He took a sip of his coffee, then searched her eyes. “So how are you doing?”
She was never sure what people expected when they asked that question. In the first weeks after Zach’s death, there was no doubt they were referring to her loss. But now that the first anniversary of the tragedy had passed, she never knew whether to answer the question in relation to Zach and the fire, or in relation to her “new normal.”
She took a risk with Lucas because at least he understood what the fire had cost the community, even if he didn’t know her own pain. “I’m hanging in there. How about you? How is your mom?”
A shadow darkened his countenance. “She’s doing well. Moving on.”
“Moving on? As in … literally moving?”
“It looks that way. It’s not public knowledge yet, so don’t say anything, but she’s … I think she’s getting married.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful.” Too late, she saw in his eyes that he didn’t agree. “I’m sorry. I’m sure that isn’t easy for you.”
He shrugged. “She’s happy. She wasn’t for so long, I really can’t begrudge her this.”
“I hope she’s not moving too far away.”
“Just to Springfield. That’s where Geoff lives. Geoff Morrison.”
“Well, tell Emily I’ve been thinking about her.” She looked at her lap. “You too. I’m glad to see you’re doing so well.”
He grunted. “If you can call it that.”
“You were in a wheelchair last time I saw you—with casts up to here.” She drew a line above her knees, then gestured to his cane. “I’d say this is a huge improvement.”
He shrugged. “I’ll consider myself improved when I can get back to work.”
“Any idea when that might be?” She felt as if she was prying, and worried he heard the skepticism in her voice. He didn’t look anywhere near ready to return to the rigors of firefighting.
But he didn’t seem offended. “I really don’t know. Ma just told me a few days ago—about Geoff. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around it.”
“I’ll bet.”
He grinned, obviously trying to put her at ease. “Oh well, I’m a big boy. Twenty-seven next month. It’s probably time I was out on my own.”
“Where will you go? Have you looked at apartments yet? I’m going to be looking one of these days, too,” she confessed.
“You’re moving, too?”
She nodded. “Not leaving the Falls, but I can’t afford to keep our house.” It made it seem so real to speak the words aloud. “I’ve got it on the market. Actually, that’s why I’m camped out here. The Realtor’s showing the house right now. I’m a little afraid it’ll sell right away.”
“Maybe you can just move in here.” He winked and pointed toward the counter. “All the coffee you can drink, bathrooms in the back …”
“I’m moving in with Zach’s parents for a while. And
I
just turned twenty-nine.” She smiled, realizing the irony.
He cocked his head. “
Really
twenty-nine, or the twenty-nine all women claim after a certain age?”
“No,
really
twenty-nine.”
He looked skeptical. “And you’ll be thirty on your next birthday? Or twenty-nine again? Just checking.”
“No really. I swear. I may stop counting at
thirty
-nine, but honest, I’m twenty-nine right now. For real.” She held up three fingers in a Scout’s honor gesture.
He laughed. “Okay, okay, I believe you. It’s nice you have someplace to go. I do, too, just so you know. Ma’s renting the house to me as long as I want to stay.”
“Over on Bramblewood, right? I always liked that house. Not that I’ve ever been inside …”
“Yeah, it’s home. But it’s going to feel awfully strange rattling around in there by myself. Me and the cat.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean. And I don’t even have a cat.”
His face fell, as if he’d just realized the implications of his words. “I’m sorry, Jenna. You already know what it feels like—to be alone.”
“Hey, I don’t have a corner on the market. You’ve been there, too.” She was saying the things she knew he expected her to say. She’d watched Bryn and Susan Marlowe carefully, learned to imitate the grief that always colored their voices when they spoke of their beloved husbands.
Lucas didn’t seem to notice. “It’s not the same. Sure, it was awful losing Pop, but I watched Ma go through what you’ve been through. It’s different losing your … other half.”
“But you had this to deal with, too.” She nodded toward his cane, wishing she could erase this whole thread of their conversation.
He took another swig of coffee, then set his cup on the windowsill. “I have an idea: let’s not sit here and try to figure out who has it worse.”
She smiled, relieved. “Very good idea. Change of subject.”
He turned and looked out the window, playfully craning his neck to look beneath the wide awning that covered the window. “Lovely weather we’ve been having, isn’t it?”
“Not really,” she deadpanned.
“Okay. That was lame. How ’bout them Chiefs?” He lifted a fist in a rah-rah gesture.
“Nope. I don’t speak ‘sports.’”
“Politics?”
“Definitely not.”
He raked a hand through a head of gorgeous black curls. “Religion?”
She winced. “I’d rather not.”
“Wow … I give up then. Your turn.”
“Coffee?”
“Ah. Coffee. Now there’s a fascinating topic. So what do you think of the caramel latte? Be honest now.” His eyes flashed with mischief.
“Haven’t tried it yet.”
He blew out a sigh, obviously enjoying their lighthearted exchange. “So what’s your poison?”
“House blend, black.”
“Boring, boring. But that’s probably why I’ve got this spare tire around my waist and you’ve kept your girlish figure.” He patted his belly, which was a far cry from being a “spare tire.”
She smiled but studied the nearly empty coffee cup in her hand, not sure how to respond to his compliment.
Lucas must have sensed her discomfort because when their eyes met again, his expression had turned serious, even guilty. She could almost read his mind: he’d been flirting with his buddy’s wife—a married woman, as far as he was concerned.
“Listen, Jenna. I’ve wanted—” He twisted the lid from his coffee cup with long, slender fingers. “This might sound strange, and I hope it doesn’t bring back bad memories—stuff you’ve tried to put behind you, but I’ve wanted a chance to talk to you.”
She frowned, curious. “About what?”
“Zach and I got pretty close working together. I just … I hope you know how much he cared for you. How much he loved you. The guy’s whole face would light up when he talked about you. He—” He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “That’s probably enough. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how your husband felt about you, but someone told me something similar—about my dad, how he was proud of me. And it—it helped.” He stopped, looking embarrassed.
But when he met her eyes again, he looked so sincere, it made her want to cry.
“It helped a lot,” he said. “And I just thought you should hear the same from Zach. From someone who heard it from his own mouth.”
Jenna felt frozen to her chair. She pasted on a smile and murmured
a shallow “thank you,” but she felt as if Lucas Vermontez—however innocently—had punched her in her already-bruised heart.
She’d never doubted Zach’s love for her. Didn’t doubt for a minute that he lit up when he talked about her to the guys at the firehouse.
But how long could she pretend that she’d loved him the same? And how long would she carry the ache inside her because she hadn’t?
For a minute he couldn’t breathe. So she was really going to do this.
6
Tuesday, November 11
L
ucas retrieved the morning paper off the driveway and trudged back to the kitchen, greeted by the smells of burnt toast and fresh-brewed coffee.
His mother appeared in the doorway. “Good morning, sunshine.”
He grunted, not ready to engage yet this morning. He was still lost in a dream about Jenna Morgan. A guilty dream, but one he wasn’t ready to surrender yet. It had been good to see her last night, good to laugh with someone and talk about mundane things.
But why did he have to go and bring up the fire? It had obviously upset her—and why wouldn’t it? She’d clammed up after that. They’d talked for a few more minutes … about her move, about his desire to get back on at the firehouse. But thanks to him, the meeting had ended on a tense note.
After he got home yesterday, he’d considered calling her, maybe try to apologize for the direction their conversation had taken, and casually
invite her to meet him at the coffee shop again. Now, in the light of day, that seemed like a stupid idea. But he’d already decided he would find excuses to hang out at Java Joint, just in case she showed up there again.
Too bad she was having to put her house on the market. He tried to imagine how he’d feel if Ma were to sell this house—the only home he could remember, and a place where memories of Pop seemed to reside in the very walls. Difficult as it had been at first—to be reminded of Pop in every room—those memories offered comfort now.
His mother opened cupboards and rummaged noisily through a jumble of travel mugs, mumbling as she tried to find a matching lid, then scolding Lucky when he got underfoot. “This stupid cat is going to put one of us in the hospital!”
The commotion pulled Lucas from his dreamworld. Just as well. His fantasies were just that.
Ma poured coffee into a tall mug and screwed the lid in place. She wore a smile that said she was in her own la-la land. He knew exactly who she was with there, too.
He hobbled across the kitchen to refill his mug. She handed him the creamer, and that’s when he saw it. A ring twinkled on her finger. Not the simple anniversary band Pop had given her, but a sparkly diamond with tiny blue stones set on either side.
For a minute he couldn’t breathe. So she was really going to do this.
“Oh, by the way,” she said, gathering her purse and the bag she toted library books in, “I won’t be here for dinner, honey. Can you fend for yourself?”
“I don’t suppose this has anything to do with that big honkin’ ring on your finger?”
She gave a little gasp and clasped her hands, covering the ring. But she couldn’t camouflage her smile.
He held out a hand. “Let me see.”