The Color of a Memory (The Color of Heaven Series) (3 page)

“Of course. We’re just friends now.”

I finished picking out the onions. “So how long were you together? If you don’t mind my asking…?”

He shrugged a shoulder. “It wasn’t that serious. We met in a bar and dated for about six months. What can I say? She’s a gorgeous girl—”

I picked up the roll on my plate and spread butter on it. “I noticed.”

“But enough about my love life,” Alex said, reaching for his water. “Tell me about you. What made you decide to go into nursing?”

I finished chewing, then decided to let go of the subject of past girlfriends. I told him bits and pieces about my life and career choices.

Then I asked what made him decide to go into firefighting, and before I knew it, we were swapping war stories about our jobs, and my supper break was over.

He reached for his crutches and I carried both trays to the trolley.

Maybe it was a mistake, but this time, when we walked out together and he asked for my number…I gave it to him.

* * *

Later that night when I arrived home after my shift, I made the foolish assumption that raccoons had gotten into my garbage.

With everything strewn all over my lawn at the curb, there was no way I could wait until the morning to clean it up. It was already past midnight and the garbage truck would come by at 7:00 a.m. So I went inside to fetch a pair of rubber gloves and tackled the grubby task of bagging everything up again.

Afterward, I took a quick shower before I fell, oblivious, into bed.

Chapter Five

I woke late the next morning, made a pot of coffee, then stepped outside in my bathrobe and slippers to fetch up the newspaper. As I unrolled it in the bright sunshine, I noticed that the garbage man had collected my trash and left the plastic bins empty on their sides at the curb. There were only a few indiscriminate traces of the raccoon invasion—some small wrappers and tissues in the grass—things I’d missed in the dark which I resolved to pick up later, after I got dressed.

Returning to the kitchen, I cooked myself some scrambled eggs, sat down at the table and read the paper while I ate.

Later, while I was loading my dirty dishes into the dishwasher, the telephone rang.

It said “Private Caller.”

I stared at it for a moment.

Tapping my fingers on the countertop, I grew increasingly irritated as I debated whether or not to answer.

In the end, I picked it up after the fourth ring. “Hello?”

There was no response, but I could hear something in the background. It sounded like a blender running.

“Hello!” I shouted into the phone. Then
click
, they hung up.

Letting out an angry huff, I scrolled through the previous calls and noted with some unease that there had been five missed calls the night before while I was at work, all from “Private Caller.”

Frowning, I speed-dialed Cathy. “Hey, you haven’t been phoning me from some other number have you?”

“No,” she replied. “Why?”

I bent to grab the box of dishwasher detergent under the sink and poured powder into the dispenser. “Because someone keeps calling me and hanging up. They called five times last night while I was at work.” I shut the dishwasher door and pressed the start button.

“Probably those stupid telemarketers,” Cathy said. “Did you check the Caller ID?”

“Yeah, it says Private Caller.”

“Well, that sucks. You know there’s a website where you can get your number removed from lists. I forget what it’s called but I’ll get Bob to email you the link.”

“Thanks. Can you make it to spinning class today?”

“Not today,” she replied. “I’m swamped here. Maybe tomorrow though.”

“Okay.” We made quick plans for the following morning and hung up.

I went into the bedroom to get dressed, then outside to drag the empty trash containers back from the curb and pick up the last remnants of rubbish in the grass.

When I returned to the kitchen, the phone was ringing again, but this time, there was someone on the other end of the line. My heart began to race.

Chapter Six

It was Alex who called, and I was embarrassed to admit how giddy I became just from the sound of his voice in my ear. Though I knew he was a shameless flirt—and I certainly didn’t trust him to be the sort of man I always imagined myself ending up with—I couldn’t resist him. I was flattered by his attention and becoming increasingly infatuated by the minute. He was just so darn attractive. The physical attraction knocked me completely off balance.

At first he apologized for his physical incapacity and explained that under normal circumstances he would be a far more exciting cohort. He assured me he would be taking me to the beach, or bungee jumping, or dancing in a club. As it stood, he couldn’t even drive his car, so picking me up for dinner was out of the question as well.

“How did you get to the hospital last night?” I asked. “Did you take a bus?”

“David gave me a lift,” he replied, “and he picked me up afterward.”

“That was good of him,” I said.

“He’s the best.”

Alex then invited me over to his place for lunch, and I could do nothing but say, “Hell, yes.”

* * *

When I pulled up in front of Alex’s house at noon, I was surprised by the look of the place. It was a white stucco century home with a rock garden and mature trees in the yard, situated in an established upscale neighborhood.

I didn’t know what kind of salary firefighters earned, but I was quite certain that a young, single guy like Alex couldn’t possibly afford a property like this. Unless he came from money. Or had recently become divorced from an heiress.

Gathering my purse and keys, I stepped out of my car—a beat up old ’76 Mustang I bought a few years back—and crossed the driveway to ring the bell. It took a few moments for Alex to answer, and when he opened the door, the first thing he did was apologize.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I can’t move very fast.” He stepped back to invite me in.

“Where are your crutches?” I asked.

“I get tired of picking them up and setting them down,” he explained, returning to the kitchen. “You’ll have to start calling me Hop-along.”

I laughed and glanced around at the classic décor inside. The woodwork in the home boasted elegant turn-of-the-century character, but the furniture was sleek and modern. “What a beautiful home.”

“Thanks,” he said, “but it’s not my house. It’s my parents’. I’ve been staying here for the past few days because my apartment is up two flights of stairs. No elevator.”

“I see.” That explained things.

“My mother’s been spoiling me,” he added as he gestured for me to follow him into the kitchen, which had obviously been remodeled recently with white cupboards, granite countertops and stainless steel appliances.

“Are your parents here?” I asked.

“No, Mom and my stepdad are at work. I’m going out of my mind sitting around here all by myself. I’m glad you could come over.”

I shrugged. “Guess those are the perks of working the night shift.” I set my purse down on one of the chocolate-brown leather stools at the island bar. “And thanks for inviting me. It smells good…whatever you’re cooking.”

“It’s just spaghetti,” he said. “I’m not much of a gourmet.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

He pointed to the bowl of salad on the counter. “You could take that outside to the back deck and grab a bottle of wine from the rack on the island. The corkscrew’s in the drawer below.”

I moved to the floor-to-ceiling French windows and peered out at a teakwood table on a small, private flagstone patio. It was nestled cozily among lush and leafy elderberry hedges. Wild flowers bloomed everywhere, and colorful bird feeders and hanging glass ornaments made the space look like a magical fairyland.

Grabbing the salad bowl in one hand, I pulled a bottle of wine out of the rack on the counter and carried everything out. When I returned for glasses, utensils and the cork screw, Alex was lifting the large pot of boiling noodles to the sink to pour into the strainer, managing quite impressively to hobble on one foot.

“You sure you don’t need any help?” I asked.

“I got this,” he replied.

He served up two plates of linguine with a thick and meaty sauce that made my mouth water. Then he smothered them in fresh parmesan.

“At least let me carry the plates out,” I said with a smile.

A few minutes later we were seated in the sunshine, sipping red wine and enjoying the meal.

“What time did you get home last night?” he asked.

“It was crazy in the ER,” I explained. “I had to stay late to finish out a case, so it was nearly midnight. Then I came home to find my garbage strewn all over my lawn. Stupid raccoons must have gotten into it. I wasn’t happy about that.”

He twirled his linguine around his fork. “What kind of bins do you have?”

“The cheap kind,” I replied. “The lids never stay on.”

“Remind me, before you go, to show you the ones my parents use. They’re around the side of the garage. Nothing can get into those suckers. They’re like army tanks.”

“I’d love to see them.” I sat back in my chair and laughed. “This is quite the conversation for a second date.”

He grinned at me. “Am I impressing you yet? Living with my parents…. Hopping on one foot…. Bragging about trash cans.”

“You’re different, I’ll give you that.”

We chatted about his parents’ house for a while, but he told me this wasn’t where he grew up. Before his father died they had lived in a different neighborhood.

“When did he pass away?” I asked.

“He died of cancer when I was nine,” Alex explained. “My mom raised my sister and me on her own after that. It took her a long time to get over losing him. She finally remarried six years ago and moved in here with Garry.”

“What does Garry do?” I asked.

“He owns Chesterton Construction.”

I gulped down a mouthful of spaghetti. “Wow.”

No wonder they could afford to live in this neighborhood. Chesterton Construction built office towers and condos, and developed sprawling subdivisions on the outskirts of the city.

“So what do you think of Garry?” I asked. “Is he a good match for your mom?”

“He’s great,” Alex said. “I’m glad she finally found someone, especially now that Sarah and I are grown up and moved out.”

“Sarah’s your sister?”

He nodded and picked up his wine. “Yeah, younger sister. She’s going to university in Boston. She’s a handful, that one.”

“How so?”

He set down his glass. “She was always getting into trouble in high school. Hanging out with the wrong crowd. Playing hooky.”

“But she’s in university now, so that’s promising.”

“Yeah, but she’s in a sorority,” he said, “having the time of her life. I just hope she doesn’t flunk out.”

“How’s your mom handling that?”

“It’s always been rough, but she never loses faith. She believes in Sarah, trusts that she’s smart and she’ll figure everything out eventually.”

I sat back in my chair and breathed in the refreshing floral scents of the patio. “It must be hard being a parent, watching your kids make mistakes.” A hummingbird hovered at the feeder behind Alex’s head. I stared at it for a moment until it flew away. “I think the best parents don’t try to protect their kids too much. They let them go out into the world and learn for themselves.”

Alex nodded. “I agree. What about your parents? Where are they?”

I was feeling the wine now, and the warmth of the sun on my cheeks made me want to recline in a lounge chair somewhere and contemplate the universe. “They live in Stamford. My dad manages a hardware store and my mom’s a teacher.”

“Do you see them much?”

“Not as much as I should,” I replied. “It’s tough when I work so many weird hours. I’m always catching up on sleep.”

“I know what you mean,” he said. “I work odd hours, too.”

“That’s what we get for choosing careers in emergency services,” I replied.

“Yep. Serves us right, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

“Me neither.”

We gazed at each other across the table for a moment.

Suddenly I worried that I had become
too
relaxed. As I was driving over here, I’d promised myself I would keep up my guard, not let him mesmerize me with his good looks and amusing conversation.

But I liked him. I enjoyed talking with him and I wanted to know more about his life and his family and all the things that were important to him. There was an obvious connection between us and I wondered if he was simply one of those people who made everyone feel comfortable.

“So are you going to show me those trash cans or what?” I asked when we finished eating.

“Sure.” He pushed his chair back to rise. “And there’s something else I want to show you, too. Let’s clear the table first.”