The Firefighter's Family Secret. Shirley Jump
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she’d said, but I can’t remember why.” He shook his head then turned back to the crossword. “What’s a five-letter word for in fashion?”
“Umm...” She thought about it while she sprinkled some seasoning on the chicken, then dug in the bin in the pantry, unearthed a few potatoes, washed them and pricked their skins. “Try vogue.”
“Works for me.” He penciled it in. “Been working on this crossword all day. It’s a tough one.”
It was what he said every day. She wasn’t quite sure how her father spent the hours between breakfast—when she got here at eight and put his coffee on and fixed him some eggs—and six fifteen, when she got back from the store. She didn’t want to think of him sitting at this kitchen table, staring out the window, mourning. But truth be told, that was what she knew her father probably did every day.
“Have you called Daryl? He was in the other day. Said he wanted to get you up to the lake, see what’s biting.” Her father’s best friend had been in almost every day over the last month, checking to see if Ernie might have come in for the day. Daryl had tried calling and coming by the house, but if Ernie didn’t want to deal with someone, he just ignored them. Rachel hoped that if she kept on mentioning Daryl and her father’s favorite pastime, it might get him out the door.
Her father waved that off. Again. “Maybe when the weather is better.”
Rachel glanced out the window at clear skies, a sunlit day. “Today was a great day for fishing, Dad.”
That made her think of the firefighter again. Colton Barlow. Novice fisherman. Decent first baseman. And very hot guy in general. She wondered how his fishing trip had gone, and whether he’d be back to the store. Whether he’d ask her for coffee—
Then she glanced at her father and realized she probably didn’t have time to date. Heck, she barely had time to take care of herself. There were dishes to do, laundry to process, some weeding to tackle, then she had to go home and take care of her own chores, sleep, get up, work the store and come back to her father’s house again. Rinse and repeat, day after day, until her father got back into his life. “Dad, I’m going to get this on the grill, then I’ll come back in and do the dishes.”
“You don’t have to. They can keep.” He never even looked up from the crossword. “I’ll do them later.”
She sighed. It was what he always said, whenever she offered to clean for him, but he never swept or washed or did anything about the mess inside the house or the weeds out front. And all the other thousand little things that had gone undone for months.
She put the chicken on the grill then came back inside. She fished out the register report from her pocket and smoothed the paper on the table in front of her father. “Here’s today’s tally. Things were a little slow.” She didn’t mention that her only customer had been the firefighter.
The store had barely been surviving in the last few months, but she never told her father that. If she did, his disappointment—in the store, in her—would likely make him retreat even further. So she tried to keep things upbeat, positive. There were days when even that was a challenge.
Her father gave the paper a glance. “Business will pick up.”
He’d been saying that for months. But business had dropped to a dangerous low, and right now it was costing more to keep the lights on than she was taking in during the day. She was doing her best, but the people of Stone Gap loved her dad, came to him for his expertise, the way he made everyone feel welcome. She was trying, but she wasn’t Ernie. “I think everyone misses you down at the shop.”
“I’ll be by.” His focus was back on the crossword. “Someday.”
Rachel slipped into the seat opposite her father and put a hand over her dad’s. “Someday...like tomorrow? Come on, Dad. It’ll be good for you to—”
He shoved the chair back so fast, it squealed against the tile floor. “I’m fine right here. So let it go.”
Then he stomped out of the room, down the hall and into his bedroom. The door shut with a slam, and Rachel was left alone, with the same mess she’d been trying to clean up for the past year.
She fixed the chicken, did the dishes and processed a load of laundry. Then she left her dad a covered plate and a note that said she loved him before she headed out the door. Rachel sat in her car for a long time, debating whether to go home and do the same at her house, then work on the books and orders for the store.
Or maybe, for once, do something for herself.
That made her think of Colton again. He was here on vacation, she presumed. Did that mean he was out tonight? Sitting on a bar stool somewhere, or still fishing? Or was he the type to fill his evenings with a long run or a good novel?
When was the last time she had done any of the above? Had enough time to buy a book, never mind read one? Take a long, lazy walk on a warm summer evening? Sleep in on a Sunday and dawdle over the paper with a cup of coffee and a cinnamon roll?
As she neared the street toward the cozy apartment she lived in, she saw the sign for the Sea Shanty. She debated at the stop sign then finally turned left, away from home and toward the restaurant. She rolled down the windows, let in the ocean breeze and tasted the short burst of freedom in the air.
The Sea Shanty wasn’t much, as restaurants went, but the food was good, and they’d recently started featuring live bands almost every night of the week. Rachel picked up her phone, pressed a button and waited for the other end to answer. “You up for a glass of wine and way too many calories?”
“Hell, yes.” Melissa, Rachel’s best friend since grade school, let out a throaty laugh. “Tell me where and when, and I’ll get Jason to watch these kids so I can escape the shackles of motherhood for a few minutes.”
“The Sea Shanty. As soon as possible.”
“Hold on a sec.” Melissa covered the phone then yelled to Jason, “I’m going out so you’ve got the rugrats for dinner.” Then she was back. “Give me ten minutes.”
“I can’t wait.” Rachel pulled into the lot, parked her car and tucked her keys in her purse. How long had it been since she’d had dinner and drinks with friends? Clearly, way too long if she couldn’t remember. She had to find a better way to balance her life. Otherwise, she had a feeling she’d wake up a year from now and realize she was still in the exact same place as before. She wanted to date again, go out more often, get her business running. Coming here tonight instead of going home was a good first step, but Rachel had a feeling she was going to need a miracle if she wanted to carve more than an impromptu dinner out of an already tightly structured twenty-four hours.
Yeah, definitely a miracle. She still had a pile of paperwork to do at home, the end of the quarter financials to finalize and a restock order to process. She didn’t have time for a long dinner—maybe a quick bite and the rest to go. Melissa would understand, Rachel hoped. Maybe in a few more months...
But even Rachel didn’t hold out hope for that. Her father was all she had left, and there was no way she was going to abandon him. If it took one year or ten, she would be there, taking care of him and doing what she should have done—
Before her mother died.
The guilt rolled through Rachel like a wave. Those two years after her mother got sick, Rachel had been so invested—too invested—in her own life. Her father hadn’t even told her about her mother’s illness early on, and she’d missed all the subtle clues that something was awry. Rachel had been pouring herself into her new business, into getting it off the ground, and by the time she realized her mother was sick—
It was too late.
Her father had been the one who had dealt with the doctor’s appointments, the long, sleepless nights, the funeral plans at the end. Her mother had told her, just before the end, that she had begged Ernie not to tell Rachel about the cirrhosis, because she wanted her daughter to be happy, unburdened by an illness that took