Home Fires (8 page)

“How’s this?”

“Perfect.” Rose sank down on the park bench. She caught a breath of cool breeze drifting in off the lake as he dropped down on the bench beside her. Before them stretched the fresh blue waters of James Bay, which opened up farther out into Lake Michigan. The sun was halfway near the horizon, poised for its nightly plunge below the glistening waters far from shore. Together they watched nature’s beginnings of the perfect summer sunset.

“Hungry?” Rose finally broke the golden silence.

Her words seemed to startle him. His gaze hung far out at sea. He turned back toward her and she caught a glimpse of something, a sudden longing in his eyes, a lost, lonely look cast about his face. Then, quickly as it had come, it disappeared, replaced by a rueful smile.

“Sorry about that.” His voice betrayed his embarrassment. “I’ve been inside all day long filling out fire reports. I didn’t realize how much I needed something like this.”

She’d been inside all day long too, at her mother’s bedside. The hospital was air conditioned, sterile, cool, and serene. The fresh lake breeze had blown the smell of antiseptic out of her head.

All she could smell now was pastrami.

Rose picked up one of the bags and peeked inside. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.” Mike pulled wax-paper-wrapped sandwiches from one of the bags and handed over a thick roast beef built on rye. “I think this one is yours.”

Seagulls swooped and soared along the waterfront dock as the two of them munched in companionable silence. James Bay spread out before them, sparkling glints of gold in the fading evening sunshine.

Mike finished one of his sandwiches and rolled up the wax paper in a neat little ball before taking aim at the target several feet away. Kerplunk! He hit the trash receptacle dead-on.

“Good shot,” Rose said, laughing out loud. “I couldn’t do that in a million years.”

“Bet you can,” he said, urging her on.

“I was never good at sports in school.”

“Ten bucks say you can.”

His eyes had all but vanished, squinting against the brilliant rays of the setting sun. But his face wore an encouraging smile and Rose had the sudden irresistible urge to take him up on the challenge. Being around him made the years drop away and she felt like a teenager again, all gawky, giggly, and unsure of herself. Unsure except for one thing. She really really, really wanted to hit that target.

Rose wadded up her own wax paper scraps in a tight ball and took careful aim. Her thoughts focused, intent on the target. Imagine the bull’s-eye, see yourself the winner, shoot for the goal. She let fly.

Ker-plop. It hit the ground several feet away from the large wire-rimmed basket.

From the pained look on his face, it was obvious Mike was struggling not to laugh.

“Don’t you dare say one word,” she warned as she bounced off the bench and retrieved the paper ball. Again she took aim, imagined herself victorious, and let the pitch fly with dead-on accuracy.

Thud. The second shot landed in the dirt, farther away than her first attempt.

“Come on, give it one more shot,” Mike said with a grin. “What have you got to lose? Besides, you know what they say. Third time’s a charm.”

“Forget it.” Rose turned her back on the garbage can and flashed him a saucy stare. “I already told you I was bad at sports. At least now you know I don’t lie.”

“Maybe not, but you
do
litter.” With a quick flourish, he rose from his seat, scooped the wax paper ball from the ground and, taking quick aim, sank the basket.

“Show-off,” Rose hissed sweetly as he dropped onto the bench beside her.

Mike stretched out his legs and glanced at her with an easy smile. “Thanks again for dinner. This was fun.”

“If this is your idea of fun, showing me up shooting wastepaper baskets, I think you need to get a life.”

“That might not be so far from the truth.”

She shot him a sharp glance. Mike’s face was flushed in the filtering light of the setting sun.

“I actually thought about calling you this afternoon and begging off. Don’t get me wrong,” he quickly added. “It’s not that I didn’t want to have dinner with you. But I got thinking about it, and, well, I guess…”

Mike rolled his water bottle back and forth in his hands, staring at it as if it were the most important thing in the world.

Rose swallowed hard. He’d almost called off their date? Whatever was troubling him, she was glad they were together tonight. “I don’t know why you changed your mind, but just so you know… I’m glad you did.”

He glanced over and searched her eyes. “So am I,” he said after a long moment.

They sat there in companionable silence and watched the bay’s calm waters grow dark as the evening sun lost its golden brilliance and melted into a fiery red. Boats drifted in on the horizon, returning from the deep waters of Lake Michigan to the safety of shore. Only the jarring call of the swooping seagulls interrupted the tranquility of the evening.

“Maybe you won’t believe this,” she finally said, “but in all the years I’ve lived in this town, this is the first time I’ve actually sat down here by the waterfront and taken in the view.”

“It takes a transplant like me from downstate to get you to realize what you’ve been missing all your life?”

Rose eyed him in surprise. “Downstate? Is that where you’re from? I guess I thought…”

“That I was from around here? I’ll take that as a compliment.” His face wore a satisfied smile. “I was born and raised in the city of Detroit. And I’ll tell you something, Miss Rose Gallagher. If I’d been lucky enough to call James Bay my hometown, I never would have left.”

“What made you move here?” Rose ignored the slight dig about her residence preferences, but the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on her. She’d grown up in James Bay and left for the city… while he’d grown up in the city, only to eventually head north.

Mike’s gaze was back out across the horizon. “I always wanted to live up north. When the opportunity came, I grabbed it. It’s not often a job opens up around here for a fireman.”

His story made sense. James Bay was hardly a metropolis by anyone’s definition. There couldn’t be more than two or three full-time men on the fire department. The other little towns surrounding them were the same. There would be few, if any, opportunities for a fireman to have a successful and lucrative career, monetarily or otherwise.

“What did you do in the city? Were you a fireman?”

“I put in ten years on the department before I moved north.” Mike pulled his gaze from the water’s edge and turned to face her. “My dad has an insurance business, but from the time I was a little kid, I wanted to be a fireman like my Uncle Steve. He retired after forty years with the Detroit Fire Department. I grew up listening to his fire stories. He died a few years ago, but he died a happy man. He spent his life doing exactly what he wanted—fighting fires. He loved it. Every minute of it.”

Mike’s words struck a responsive chord deep in Rose’s heart. Her father had been like that. Consumed by his passion for teaching, for making every second count. He’d taught her to be the same. Setting things right for others in the pursuit of justice had totally consumed her back in the days before she’d joined the firm. Those days, she’d still been naive enough to believe she could make a difference. Things had changed somewhere along the line. She’d lost that edge, that passion for living, and it felt like there was no going back. Her world was filled with mandatory court deadlines and complicated legal briefs. Her voicemail backed up with clients clamoring for immediate attention. Her in-box overflowed with terse memos from the firm. The demands were constant. Higher billings. More receivables. Reductions in overhead.

Her stomach gave a sickening lurch. Was that really what she wanted for the rest of her life?

Mike’s face was a quizzical question mark.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Rose felt the flush high on her cheeks. Lost in her own little world, she hadn’t been listening. She hated it when people did that to her.

“What about you?” he repeated. “You’re pretty much a mystery lady.”

How could she not answer? Yet, how could she? Mike had been honest and open with her. He was a public servant who earned a public paycheck, while her annual salary was probably double, if not triple, his own. Deliberately, Rose decided to keep her career out of the conversation. Why spoil things between them? She was having too much fun for that to happen, though sooner or later, it probably would. Money eventually always figured into the picture, especially when men and their egos were involved.

“There isn’t much to tell. I grew up in James Bay and now I live downstate.” She threw him a fast smile. “End of story.”

“Come on, there’s got to be more than that.”

She shook her head lightly. “Not really. My life is pretty uncomplicated.” An understatement, if there ever was one. Dull and predictable, consumed with paperwork, with no time to herself. Queen of the microwave dinner brigade… if she remembered to eat, that is. She would probably end up suffocated someday under a stack of legal briefs. Death by deposition.

But it didn’t have to be that way. She could take Andy up on his offer and make the move to Washington D.C. Her days would be spent in the shadow of the capital building if Andy had his way… and her nights would be spent in his arms.

Rose shifted on the bench. “Tell me more about your Uncle Steve. He sounds interesting.”

“Don’t change the subject,” he warned. “Uncle Steve was a great guy, but he’s dead. You, however, are very much alive.”

There certainly were days she didn’t feel that way. More like simply going through the motions. “I’m actually pretty boring. You’d be disappointed.”

“I doubt that. There’s a story buried in you somewhere, Rose Gallagher, and I intend to find it.”

A nervous laugh bubbled out of her. “I doubt my story would be a best seller. Get up, go to work, come home, go to bed. Repeat the next day.”

“You missed the part about being a devoted daughter,” Mike gently reminded her.

“I think my mother would take issue with that statement,” Rose said, dissolving in a fit of giggles in spite of herself. Devoted daughters didn’t live two hundred miles away. Devoted daughters didn’t pack up and move to Washington D.C. Devoted daughters lived right down the block or two streets over, close enough to share a ride to church or a Sunday-night supper.

Devoted daughters stayed where they belonged.

Rose sobered slightly. But where did she belong? Working alongside the Judge? Her mother definitely would agree.

“Sure you work, everybody works. But you took time off to help your mother. I think that ranks pretty high up on the devotion list.”

She found herself suddenly glad for the cover of darkness. At least he wouldn’t glimpse the hot flush rising on her cheeks at the unexpected compliment.

“I know something else, too,” he continued. “You obviously don’t spend much time in the kitchen.”

“I object. That is not a fair assessment.” Her laugh rang out on the soft evening breeze. “Setting an oven on fire shouldn’t automatically disqualify me. For all you know, I might be a great cook.”

“People who like to cook usually sample their own cooking.” His voice carried a hint of gentle admonishment. “It doesn’t look like you eat much at all.”

Rose squirmed on the bench. She didn’t need any reminders that her clothes hung on her, loose and ill-fitting, but when did she have time to hit the mall? Obviously she needed to make time. When a man thought to add his two cents worth, it was time for action. That was one nice thing about living in the city. People simply didn’t say such things. No one cared enough to comment.

“Don’t think I meant that as an insult,” he said. “Far from it. You’re a beautiful woman, Rose. But you sure look like you could use an ice cream cone or two.”

Though his face was lost to her in the setting sun, his voice was gentle, carried softly on the breeze blowing in off the lake. A part of her—a part deep inside that had been asleep for so long she’d forgotten how to daydream—sensed Mike was telling the truth. He hadn’t meant the words to wound, yet they had. Perhaps it was the mere fact he was able to speak the truth that she found so unsettling.

“I suppose I have lost a few pounds in the last couple of months,” she admitted after some moments. She hugged herself close in the growing twilight. “I was putting in extra hours at work, trying to get things settled before I came home. I guess I forgot to eat.”

“So there’s no need to worry. Your mom came through her surgery fine and she’s going to be okay, correct?”

“She’s coming home from the hospital on Saturday.”

“Looks like you’re in the right place after all.” Mike came to his feet and offered her a hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

They were leaving already? Warily she took his hand and allowed him to pull her to a stand. She tucked her purse under one arm and frowned in the enveloping darkness. What did he mean,
she was in the right place
?

“Where are we going?”

“This town is loaded with ice cream shops. We’re going to go get you an ice cream cone. My treat.”

“Who said I wanted ice cream?” she asked as they headed away from the waterfront and back toward the lighted storefronts centering the downtown.

“Maybe you don’t, but I do.” Mike shot her a fast smile as they reached the top of the sidewalk. “Right now, the thought of a double-dip Mackinac Island Fudge cone sounds perfect.”

A few minutes later, the two of them sat side by side in Mike’s truck, ice cream cones in hand.

“Thank you.” Rose sighed in contentment as she took another quick lick of her cone. The ice cream was delicious and the cool sensation of sweet peppermint flavored her tongue. “I can’t remember the last time I did this.”

“Eat ice cream? Lady, you sure live a sheltered life,” Mike said from his seat behind the steering wheel as he licked fast in a circular motion around his sugar cone.

“It’s not just the ice cream. It’s everything—the whole shebang. Eating in the park, riding in your truck.” She flashed him a shy smile. “My dad had a pickup. I loved riding around in it with him when I was a little girl. He used to take me fishing.”