Ring of Fire (17 page)

“God, Q, don't think that.”

“I know, right? It's stupid. And it's stupid for you to feel guilty because Danny died.”

“Lark talks about random, nasty fate.”

“Exactly! That's one smart woman. You should listen to her.” They were walking a path through the square in the center of town. The gazebo and bandstand were deserted, but the grass was green and lush and chrysanthemums in fall colors bloomed in borders.

Quinn stopped to pat one of the quirky wire-frame caribou that dotted the park. “I love these guys.” She plunked down on a bench. “Sit, E. My legs are tired. You walk too fast for me.”

“Sorry.” He sat beside her.

“Did you deliver Danny's last message to his wife?”

“After the first surgery, Ellie was the first person I called, after our folks and you.”

“How did it go? She'd already been notified, right?”

“Yeah, and her parents had flown in to be with her.” He pressed his fingers to his temples, wishing he could scrub away the memories that resided there. “She cried. It was awhile before she could talk. Then she told me she appreciated me calling and telling me, but that she couldn't help hating me for being alive when Danny was dead.”

Quinn leaned against him. “That's rough, but I have to admit I'd feel the same way, if it'd been you who died and Danny who lived. We love our own people, E. That's just how it is.”

“Yeah. I understand completely. It probably would've been awkward if I'd gone to the funeral, but I couldn't anyhow. I was in the hospital, having another surgery.”

“Have you spoken to her since?”

“Actually, Ellie called a month later, after she had the baby. A girl, named Daniela.”

“Named after her daddy. Sweet.”

“I guess.” Personally, he could handle never hearing the name Danny, in any form, for the rest of his life. “Anyhow, she was really nice. She apologized for what she'd said to me, if you can believe it. She said she and Danny had both known that he was risking his life. I told her no, of course I got it. I told her that, for what it was worth, I kind of hated myself for being alive when he was dead, too. She said she was glad he hadn't died alone, that I'd been with him.” Even if Danny's final moments would haunt Eric for the rest of his life.

“It sounds like she's forgiven you. Why can't you forgive yourself for whatever guilt—misplaced though it is—you're feeling?”

When he didn't respond, she asked, “Did Ellie say anything else?”

“That if I ever felt up to sharing some stories about Danny, she'd like to hear them.”

“Have you?”

He shook his head. “Whenever I think of Danny, I think of the way he died.”

Leaning closer, Quinn linked her arm through his again. “Maybe you need to remember other things. To talk to Ellie and tell her about some of your good memories of Danny.”

“How would that help either one of us?”

“I don't know if it'd help you, E, and I guess it'd be painful. But you had time with him that she doesn't know about. I can understand her wanting to know. It'd be a gift to tell her.”

He swallowed. Quinn hadn't come right out and said that he owed it to Ellie, but that was what she meant. And he did. He owed Ellie anything she might possibly want from him. Did he have the guts to give it to her?

Chapter Twelve

Tuesday night around nine-thirty, Lark's cell phone rang. Jayden was in bed and Lark and her mom were in the family room, drinking tea and reading, with Schubert's “Trout Quintet” playing softly in the background.

Lark answered, saying “Hi, Eric” to let Mary know who it was. Partly for privacy, and partly so as not to disturb her mom, she rose and walked toward her bedroom as she listened to his voice saying that he'd wondered if she'd be at home.

“The town's quiet tonight,” she said, glancing out her bedroom window before pulling the curtains. “Cross your fingers it stays that way. Not that I mind the callouts, but they pretty much always mean that something bad's happened to someone.”

Her bedroom was the smallest in the house, with barely room for a double bed, a bedside table, and a small dresser. Jayden needed a large room so he could maneuver his wheelchair and walker. Mary needed a big room too, for her art, so she had the corner bedroom with the best light.

“Which you'll try to put as right as you can,” Eric said. “Because that's what you do, isn't it?” There was an odd edge to his voice.

She'd been going to relax down on the bed, but that edge kept her on her feet. “I do what I can.” Whatever was going on with him, she'd tackle it head-on. “Do you have a problem with that?”

A snort. Then he said stiffly, “I can hardly have a problem with it when you've done so much for me. Can I?”

“From the tone of your voice, I'd say you can.”

There was a long pause, and then he said, “I don't want to be another mess that you try to fix. I appreciate your concern, but I don't need your pity.”

Oh, man. She huffed out air. “Good, because you don't have it. And could we please stop doing this?” She sat on the edge of the bed. “Listen to me. I said I found you strong, attractive, and sexy. I consider you a friend, and of course I care that you're going through a rough time. That does not equate to pity. If you can't accept that, then we'll end this relationship now.” She felt a pang, a rather large one, but she carried on, “If we do keep seeing each other, I refuse to engage in this stupid dance again. Got it?”

He didn't answer for a long moment. Then he said slowly, “I hear you. I believe you. But, Lark, from what you've told me, when you get together with a guy, you're doing it for casual fun. I'm not exactly the most fun in the world.”

His words gave her pause. No, their relationship wasn't as carefree as her usual hookups, but it was so much more rewarding. “You're a friend. Not just a one- or two-night fling. Friends don't always have to be fun. They ought to be able to share problems. Share the lows as well as the highs.” As Lark and Karen did.

“It's always me sharing the lows.”

She shoved herself up on the bed, to sit with pillows behind her back and her legs curled. “I haven't got any lows right now. My life's going great.” She smiled. “I happen to be having some amazing sex, by the way.”

“Thanks for that. But, Lark, I want you to promise me that it goes both ways. I want you to be able to talk to me, to come to me if you have a problem.”

She hadn't gone to a man with a problem—not outside of work-related things, like petitioning the town council for a larger budget—since she was married, and she'd hardly ever done it then. Marriage had only reinforced what her mom had taught her: a woman couldn't rely on a man. Yet Eric did have a good point about reciprocity in relationships. And so she said, “Okay, it's a deal.” Then she crossed her fingers, hoping that no significant problems arose to test her promise.

“Roger that.” And then he said, “Moving on then. How about that dinner we talked about?”

“Great. I haven't had a chance to figure out a good time, but I will.”

“Maybe Friday or Saturday night, when you don't have to go into work the next day? We can have a nice dinner and then go back to my place, if that works for you.”

“Quinn's willing to go to another movie?”

“Actually, she's leaving Friday morning.”

“Really? I thought she didn't have any plans.”

“Yeah, well, in Quinn's life, long-range planning doesn't figure in.” He sounded resigned, the tolerant older brother. “It's more mood of the moment. Today she got an e-mail from a girlfriend who's currently living in Carlsbad, a beach town north of San Diego. Quinn had told her about the breakup and moving away from Calgary, and the friend says she just had a roommate leave, and needs another one. She's working at a clothing store and they're looking to hire someone. Quinn said it was like fate pointing her in the direction of a sunny beach, to spend the winter.”

“Each to her own.” Lark enjoyed the change of seasons in Caribou Crossing, including the snowy winters. “But can she work in California? Doesn't she need some kind of permit?”

“She's worked in the States before. She knows what to do.”

“So your place will be your own again. Which is nice, speaking selfishly, but I'm glad you'll have a couple more days with her before she goes.”

“Me, too. It's been good. She's more mature than in the past.”

Or than he'd been willing to see, Lark figured. “That's nice. Eric, did you talk to her about Afghanistan? About Danny?”

“Yeah, I did. I wasn't going to, but I had a nightmare last night and—”

“Oh, Eric, I'm sorry.” She sat upright on the bed, crossing her legs in a semilotus position. “Do you think what I said triggered it?”

“Maybe, but that's okay. It got Quinn and me talking, and that was a good thing. It feels weird, though, to have her trying to help me.”

“I bet she appreciated your being so open with her, and giving her the chance. Would it be too pushy to ask what she said?”

“She asked me about Ellie, Danny's wife. Ellie called me when their baby was born, and said if I was willing to share some stories about Danny, she'd like to hear them. But I never did it. My bad. Which Quinn, rather tactfully for her, pointed out.”

“I'm sure it wouldn't be easy to have that conversation with Ellie.”

He snorted. “Yeah, this past year's been a lesson, all right. Dad talks about things testing your mettle, and I've found that my mettle sure isn't as strong as I thought it was.”

“You survived and you're healing. That's a lot, Eric. The rest will come.”

“Some of it came today. I called Ellie.”

“You did?” How Lark wished she could be with him now. But maybe it was easier for him to talk about this when they weren't face to face. “How did it go?”

“She said she was glad to hear from me. She talked about Daniela, who's more than a year old. They're living with her parents, back in the town where Ellie grew up. She said it's helped a lot, having her family and old friends around her. And she's really glad to have the baby.”

“I can imagine. A child that she and Danny created out of their love. I think it's sweet that she named her after him.”

“I guess. Anyhow, I told her some stories. It was . . . hard to talk about Danny.”

She could hear in his voice how gut-wrenching it had been. “I bet it was.”

“I started out with the really sanitized ones. And she cried.”

Of course Ellie had cried. Lark didn't know what to say to console Eric.

While she was struggling for words, he went on, “She said they were good tears, and I should ignore them. So I forged ahead and it got easier. She shared some of her stories, too, laughing and crying. After, she thanked me for talking to her, and I was glad I did it. Not just for her, or because I owed it to her, but for me, too. I felt . . . lighter? Does that make sense?”

“Danny is a ghost who's been haunting you. I don't think you ever want to forget about him, but you're starting to make him a more benign ghost.”

“You and my sister are both pretty smart.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“Okay, enough of my heavy stuff. Let's get back to the fun part. Dinner at the Wild Rose on Friday? Or Saturday?”

“Let me check with Mom. I'll try her first, because the teenager who babysits for us has an earlier bedtime.” She added a teasing, “Wink, wink.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“While we're talking about food, would you and Quinn like to come over for dinner tomorrow, or d'you want to spend your remaining time alone together?”

“It sure sounds good to me. I don't want to wait until the weekend to see you. Let me go check with Quinn. She's watching TV in the other room.”

“While you do, I'll talk to Mom. Let's hang up and I'll call you back in five minutes.”

“Sure. And, Lark . . .”

“Uh-huh?”

“When you call me back, do it from your bedroom, with the door closed. And maybe, you know, slip into something comfortable first.”

“Why, Major Weaver. Are you by chance issuing an invitation for phone sex?”

“You're the one who said ‘wink, wink.' You set my mind on a naughty track.”

She grinned. “Good. But I need ten minutes, okay?”

After hanging up, she dashed out to the family room and checked that Mary was happy to stay home with Jayden on Friday. Lark would tell her firefighters that for once she'd be the one having a couple of drinks on Friday, so it was their turn to stay sober.

She went into the bathroom, took a one-minute shower, and brushed her teeth. Clad only in a towel, she went back to her bedroom and locked the door. She put her pager on the bedside table and gave it a warning glare. If it rang while she and Eric were talking dirty on the phone, she'd be really mad.

Since she didn't have candles to light, she turned off the bedside lamp, welcoming the sense of privacy and intimacy that darkness offered.

Then she picked up her phone. When Eric answered, she said, “Does a towel count as something comfortable? I had a shower and didn't want to get dressed again afterward.”

“You in just a towel? Oh, man, Lark, I wish I was there.”

“Tell me what you'd do if you were.”

And he did, in explicit, naughty detail.

Phone sex, she thought later, definitely beat vibrator sex. But it was still nowhere near as good as being with the real live man. Friday couldn't come soon enough.

* * *

As Lark shepherded Jayden off to bed on Wednesday night, Eric hauled himself up from the floor where he, Quinn, and the boy had been playing firefighter.

It had been a nice evening. He and his sister fit easily with the Cantrell family.

Aside from a nagging suspicion that independent Lark had been humoring him when she'd said she'd share problems with him, it was all good. Except for the sexual frustration. He was almost sorry he and Lark had agreed to permit themselves an occasional “we're dating” type of touch. If he knew they were going to bed together tonight, he'd have better enjoyed those friendly brushes against each other, the occasional clasp of their hands. They'd have been like foreplay. But knowing that it would be two whole days before he and Lark would be alone together made it tough.

Despite that, he would be happy to extend the evening. He didn't want to impose, though. Not after accepting so much of Mary and Lark's hospitality, when all he'd done in return was bring over some wine, beer, and salmon for the barbecue. Maybe next week he'd offer to take the whole family out for pizza or something, since his apartment wasn't exactly set up for entertaining.

Still standing, Eric glanced at Mary. “I suppose it's time for Quinn and me to go.”

“It's early,” Mary said. “Why don't you stay?”

“I'd like that,” said his sister, who'd remained down on the floor and now sat cross-legged. Eric envied her easy agility.

“So would I.” He took a seat on the couch that faced the window. Mary was in a comfy-looking chair, and he hoped that when Lark came back, she'd sit beside him. Though it would be better for his peace of mind if she didn't.

“How about I make a pot of fruit-and-herb tea?” Mary said.

Her sharp eyes caught Eric's dubious expression before he managed to suppress it. “I think you'll like it,” she said. “It's soothing in the evening.”

“Sounds good,” Quinn said. “Eric, there's more to life than black coffee.”

“You're not in the army,” he responded.

“Nor are you right now,” she shot back. “So expand your horizons.”

Mary gave a soft laugh, but there was a touch of sadness in her dark eyes when she said, “Ah, yes, the squabbling of siblings. I miss that. It's my one regret with Lark, that she's an only child. And the same with Jayden. There's nothing like having a sibling.”

“It's true,” Quinn said. “Much as E and I snipe at each other, I can't imagine life without him.” She tilted her head up to Mary. “You speak from experience? A brother? Sister? More than one?”

Mary rose. “A brother. Older. He died when I was sixteen.”

“Oh, Mary,” Quinn said, “I'm so sorry.”

“So am I,” Eric put in. To lose his sister would be . . . unthinkable.

“It was long ago,” Mary said. The sorrow in her voice and the resolute set to her shoulders as she left the room said that she certainly hadn't forgotten.

After she'd gone, Quinn said, “I love you, E.”

“Love you back, Q.”

Sentiment dealt with, they chatted about nothing in particular.

Mary came back carrying a tray with a teapot and mugs just as Lark walked in from the hall. “Jayden's tucked up for the night,” Lark said, plopping down on the couch beside Eric. “Oh, tea. Great.”