Robyn Carr - A Summer in Sonoma

“Understandable.”

“That really shouldn’t have happened. I usually have much better instincts than that.”

“It doesn’t seem like you did anything wrong, Cassie. He’s a freak, that’s all.”

After an hour or so of coffee, they browsed together, helping each other pick out books. In the parking lot he said, “You know, I like these coffee dates. It’s a real nice break in the day.”

“I enjoyed it, too.”

“I know it’s only been twice, but I’m already looking forward to the next one.”

“Even if you have to drive across town?”

“Even if,” he said. Then he pulled a short stack of business cards out of his pocket, sifted through them and handed her one. All it said was his name and a phone number. “If you call that cell number when you feel like coffee, I won’t keep you waiting so long. I don’t give it out that often—I get too many calls from bikers with mechanical problems when I do. They like me to walk them through home repairs. But I’d like you to have it.”

“Gee,” she said. “You have that kind of schedule, that a person can just interrupt you in the middle of work and it’s okay?”

“I put in a lot of hours. No one minds when I take a little personal time. You call—I’ll come,” he said.

“You know…I haven’t offered you my phone number, and there’s a reason—”

He put a big hand gently on her forearm. “Oh, I’d love to have your number, Cassie. But I know it’s important you be in charge right now. You call me anytime. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks. That’s nice. That you understand.”

“Hey. I was there, remember?”

Billy’s part-time job in addition to the fire department was in construction. He could’ve made it his full-time job and maybe make more money than he currently did at F.D., but it didn’t have the same potential for growth. It offered good money for flexible hours that he could fit around his F.D. schedule. The contractor let him work a few hours here and there while he was doing his twenty-four-hour shifts with the department and full days on his off time. He could get in at least twelve full days a month, usually more like sixteen. Cutting wood and stone for countertops was often tedious, but he did it perfectly and it paid well.

And it was damn hard work. Both his jobs were physically demanding. Although he was a paramedic, he didn’t drive the rescue rig every day—he was a firefighter first. So about every other workday, he worked the rescue rig and other times he was on the engine. Then he’d cut wood and rock—exhausting, dirty work. He had about enough time to eat, sleep and go back to one job or another. But he and Jules needed the money. He hadn’t called in sick to either job since the day he started. He didn’t average a day off a week. If he could just stay with F.D. eight to ten years and promote himself on time, the money and overtime would get real good. Right now he was keeping his finger in the dam.

Today he had come home from his twenty-four-hour shift at F.D. and gone to bed for a few hours, despite the noise in the house. He knew Jules was going to lunch with her girlfriends, which was a good thing—it could put her in a decent mood. A little break from the kids, some girl talk, maybe she could get in some serious complaining about Billy and unload it. So he woke himself up after about four hours of sleep and went straight to his mother-in-law’s to pick up Clint and Stephie before their nap time. They’d already had lunch, so they were ready to settle in when he got them home.

Ordinarily, he’d take advantage of the quiet and try to catch a nap; he hadn’t had much sleep and was planning to go back to the shop after dinner and hopefully work till midnight. But instead, he went after some marital points; he cleaned the kitchen, picked up dog-doo, trimmed the hedges and put the ladder up against the house to see if he could fix the drooping gutter that was breaking away because someone hadn’t cleaned it out in the late fall and it had been too burdened with leaves and twigs to stay attached. That someone was him.

He put his toolbox on the slanted roof to his right and was going after the gutter with a screwdriver, leaning a little to the left, when the toolbox began to slide. He dropped the screwdriver in the gutter and grabbed for the toolbox, which he shoved back up on the roof. But the sudden action caused the ladder to sway and teeter and he couldn’t get the toolbox stable. He grabbed the gutter for ballast, but it was a poor choice—the gutter was already weak and breaking away from the eave. His feet pushed the ladder away and it fell to his right. Billy hung on to the gutter but not for long. It gave under his weight and tore away, but at least his descent was slower. After dropping a few feet, he let go so he wouldn’t tear the whole damn thing off, and fell the rest of the way. It wasn’t all that far.

The ladder crashed to the ground with a loud clatter and he hit the ground right after it. He landed on his feet first, then fell back on his ass. He let himself roll back on the grass and lay there for a second, thinking, First, that was so stupid, and second, what I do not need right now is an injury. He didn’t move, assessing his hips and spine. He let his eyes briefly close and thought, There is no one better with a ladder than me; that was idiotic.

“Billy!” He heard Julie yell from inside the house. He could hear the tempo change as she yelled while running from the kitchen to the back patio doors. “Billy! Billy! Oh, God, Billy!”

He lay there, a very slight smile on his lips, thinking this was probably mean, keeping his eyes closed. She knelt beside him, lifted his head in her arms and said, “Billy! Are you dead?”

He opened his eyes. “You should never do that. Move a person like that. I could’ve had a spinal injury.”

“Are you all right?”

“Do you love me?” he asked.

“What happened? ” she asked, her eyes wide and fearful.

“I fell off the ladder. I was lying here wondering if anything was hurt. I didn’t know you were home. Do you love me?”

“You’re an asshole,” she said, dropping his head with a thump.

There was a sound, a sliding sound. Billy grabbed her and rolled to the left, putting himself on top of her, covering her to protect her. The toolbox clattered to the ground about six feet away, a couple of tools bouncing out. When the crashing subsided, he lifted his head. “That’s two stupid things in one day,” he said. “I think I’m too tired to be doing this stuff.”

“Let me up,” she said.

“No. First you have to tell me if you love me.”

“No, I hate you! You took ten years off my life!”

He pressed his lips against hers. She didn’t respond, so he lifted his head and grinned into her eyes. “I cleaned the kitchen,” he said. “I put Clint and Stephie down for a nap. I picked up dog shit and trimmed the hedges.”

“And fell off the ladder.”

“That’s right. And I’m not getting back on it today. Did you have a nice lunch?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you get to dump on the girls about your little condition? About your bad, bad husband?”

“I haven’t said a word to anyone. And don’t you, either.”

“Okay. Then can you help me into the bedroom?”

“You’re hurt?”

“I’m horny. You could lie naked beside me for a little while, then after I’ve put you in a good mood, I can have a little nap.”

“Is that all you ever think about?”

“When I’m on top of you like this, that’s all I think about. I’ll be very, very sweet to you. Very careful. Well, not too careful.”

“This is the root of all our problems,” she said. “Right now all I want to do is clobber you, and you still get to me.”