Нора Робертс - Chasing Fire

“It has berries, and little white flowers in it. While that’s screwing with my head, Dolly’s mother’s giving the baby to the Brayners because she can’t handle it all by herself. It’s probably the best thing, it’s probably the right thing, but it makes me feel sick and sad, which pisses me off all over again because I know I’m projecting, and I know the situation with that baby isn’t the same as with me.

“I may be jumping fire in Alaska tomorrow, and I’m stuck on pumpkin-colored cushions, a baby I’ve never even seen and a guy who’s talking about being with me after the season. How the hell did this happen?”

Lucas nodded slowly, drank a little wine. “That is a lot. Let’s see if we can sift through it. I don’t like hearing you’re having those nightmares again, but I can’t say I’m surprised. The pressure of any season wears on you, and this hasn’t been just any season. You’re probably not the only one having hard dreams.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Have you talked to L.B.?”

“Not about that. Piling my stress on his doesn’t work for anybody. That’s why I pile it on you.”

“I can tell you what we talked about before, after it happened. We all live with the risks, and train body and mind to minimize them. When a jumper has a mental lapse, sometimes he gets lucky. Sometimes he doesn’t. Jim didn’t, and that’s a tragedy. It’s a hard blow for his family, and like his kin, the crew’s his family.”

“I’ve never lost anybody before. She doesn’t count,” she said, referring to her mother. “Not the same way.”

“I know it. You want to save him, to go back to that jump and save him. And you can’t, baby. I think when you’ve really settled your mind on that, the dreams will stop.”

He got up, put an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t know if you’ll really be able to settle your mind until this business with Leo is resolved. It’s in your face, so it’s in your head. Dolly tried to put the blame for what happened to Jim on you, and it looks like her telling him she was pregnant right before a jump contributed to his mental lapse. Then Leo came at you about Jim, about Dolly—and the cops think he’s the one responsible for her murder. Time to use your head, Ro.” He kissed the top of it. “And stop letting the people most responsible lay the weight on you. Feeling sorry for Irene Brakeman, that’s just human. Maybe you and me tend to be a little more human than most on that score. Ella’s over there right now helping her get through it, and I feel better knowing that.”

“I guess it’s good that she—Mrs. Brakeman—has somebody.”

“I had your grandparents, and I leaned on them pretty hard. I had my friends, my work. Most of all I had you. When somebody walks out, it leaves a hole in you. Some people fill it up, the good and the bad, and get on that way. Some people leave it open, maybe long enough to heal, maybe too long, picking at it now and then so it doesn’t heal all the way. I hate knowing it as much as you, but I think we’ve been like the last.”

“I don’t even think about it, most of the time.”

“Neither do I. Most of the time. Now you’ve got this guy, who’d be the first one you’ve ever mentioned to me as giving you trouble. And that makes me wonder if you’ve got feelings for him you’ve managed to avoid up till now. Are you in love with him?”

“How does anybody answer that?” she demanded. “How does anyone know? Are you in love with this Ella?”

“Yes.”

Stunned, Rowan stepped back. “Just like that? You can just... poof, I’m in love.”

“She filled the hole, baby. I don’t know how to explain it to you. I never knew how to talk about this kind of thing, and maybe that’s where I fell down with you. But she filled that hole I never let all the way heal, because if I did, there could be another. But I’d rather take that chance than not have her. I wish you’d get to know her. She...”

He lifted his hands as if to grab something just out of reach. “She’s funny and smart, and has a way of speaking her mind that’s honest instead of hurtful. She can do damn near anything. You should see her on a dive. I swear she’s a joy to watch. She could give Marg a run for her money in the kitchen, and don’t repeat that or I’ll call you a liar. She knows about wine and books and flowers. She has her own toolbox and knows how to use it. She’s got great kids and they’ve got kids. She listens when you talk to her. She’ll try anything.

“She makes me feel... She makes me feel.”

There it was, Rowan realized. If there’d been an image in the dictionary for the definition of “in love,” it would be her father’s face.

“I have to get dinner on the table.” She turned away to the door, then turned back to see him looking after her, that light dimmed. “Are you, more or less, asking for my blessing?”

“I guess. More or less.”

“Anybody who makes you this happy—and who talked you into getting rid of those ugly curtains in your office—is good with me. You can tell me more about her while we eat.”

“Ro. That means more than I can say.”

“You don’t have heart-shaped pillows on your bed now, do you?”

“No. Why?”

“Because that’s going to be my line in the sand. Anything else I think I can adjust to. Oh, and none of those crocheted things over spare toilet paper. That’s definitely a deal breaker.”

“I’ll take notes.”

“Good idea because I probably have a few more.” She walked to the stove, pleased that light had turned back on full.

Feeling sociable, Gull plopped down in the lounge with his book. That way he could ease out of the story from time to time, tune in on conversations, the ball game running on TV and the progress of the poker game he wasn’t yet interested in joining.

Or he could just let all of it hum at the edges of his mind like white noise.

With the idea he might be called up at any time, he opted for a ginger ale and a bag of chips to snack him through the next chapter or two.

“Afraid of losing your paycheck?” Dobie called out from the poker table.

“Terrified.”

“Out?” An outraged Trigger lurched out of his chair at a call on second. “That runner was safe by a mile. Out my ass! Did you see that?” he demanded.

He hadn’t, but Gull’s mood hit both agreeable and sociable. “Damn right. The ump’s an asshole.”

“He oughta have his eyes popped out if he can’t use them better than that. Where’s the ball to your chain tonight?”

Amused, Gull turned a page. “Ditched me for another man.”

“Women. They’re worse than umps. Can’t live with them, can’t beat them with a brick.”

“Hey.” Janis discarded two cards at the poker table. “Having tits doesn’t mean I can’t hear, buddy.”

“Aw, you’re not a woman. You’re a jumper.”

“I’m a jumper with tits.”

“Unless you’re going to toss them in the pot,” Cards told her, “the bet’s five to you.”

“They’re worth a lot more than five.”

Better than white noise, Gull decided, and likely better than his book.

Across the room, Yangtree—with an ice bag on his knee—and Southern played an intense, nearly silent game of chess. Earbuds in, Libby ticked her head back and forth like a metronome to her MP3 while she worked a crossword puzzle.

A lot of sociable going around, he mused. About half the jumpers on base gathered, some in groups, some solo, more than a few sprawled on the floor, attention glued to the Cardinals v. Phillies matchup on-screen.

Waiting mode, he decided. Everybody knew the siren could sound anytime, sending them north, east, south, west, where there would be camaraderie but little leisure. No time to insult umpires or figure out 32 Across. Instead of raking in the pot, as Cards did now with relish, they’d rake through smoldering embers and ash.