13. Real Reason
REAL REASON
“This is really good,” Ash said twenty minutes later when they were sitting at the table.
The hug Skye had given him was done and over with before he wished, but he’d been too stunned she’d made the first move.
“Thanks. I’d been cooking a lot before I moved in with the Lancasters.”
“Do you want to talk about your life before them? Do you mind or is that off the table?”
She put another bite in her mouth and he was positive that it was answer enough.
“I don’t mind talking about it if you’ll help me with a few things.”
“So it’s a quid pro quo? Is that what it’s called? I mean, English was your jam, not mine. I’m more into raspberry.”
“Raspberry?”
“Raspberry jam. My mother makes the best jellies and jams, but raspberry is my favorite.”
“There you are, being funny.”
One shoulder twitched upward. “I’m not trying. It’s just me.”
“I get it. I think maybe back then, or years ago, I thought you tried.”
“I did more with you, but it’s still how I am. I can take a hint.”
“I meant nothing by it all. I had a lot going on in my life.”
“Tell me about it, if you want.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors.”
“What rumors are those? I try not to believe too much unless it comes from the source. It’s how I was raised.”
“You’re of the minority. But my parents were drunks. Functioning ones. Sean and me? We were just two bodies in the house to push around.”
“They physically abused you?” he asked, sitting up straighter.
He’d never heard that.
“No. I mean, my father and Sean fought. They might have pushed each other around some, but there were no punches thrown that I know of. We were two people for them to tell what to do. I did a lot of cooking and cleaning. Sean did a lot of other things around the house. The night of the fire...” Her voice just trailed off.
“What happened that night?”
“It was nothing more than normal. I’m not sure why I remember it.”
“Because it’s the last time you saw your parents.”
“You’re right. My father and Sean were fighting. He wanted to go out and was told no. Argued he was eighteen, but my parents’ favorite comeback was always until you start paying your way, it’s their way.”
“Even at fifteen they said that to you? You didn’t have a job, right?”
“I didn’t. So I cooked dinner more than half the time. My mother had come in from the store, put the food away and then told me to start dinner. I asked if it could wait until I was done with my schoolwork, but she was hungry and wanted it then.”
“Then she should have started it,” he said before he could stop the words from carelessly spilling out.
“That was my thought too. I got lippy with her. She got lippy back. She got in my face and my father came in to break it up, they each grabbed their first of many beers that night. Though I’m positive they were both drinking prior. It was the first that I’d seen that night.”
“It was nonstop?” he asked.
“My mother was a bartender. She was around it all the time. I know she drank while she worked, then drank more when she got out, and sometimes more when she was home. My father would go sit with her and they’d drink together on the weekends.
Or if he was home at night and she was working, then he was drinking in the living room, falling asleep with empties next to him. The house was always a mess.”
“Unless you cleaned it?”
“Pretty much.”
“I’d heard that there was junk and boxes around and that just helped the fire spread.”
“That’s what they said.”
“But you don’t believe it?” he asked. “You don’t believe it was an accident, do you?”
“I just need to talk to someone who will listen to me.”
“I’m all ears. Shoot,” he said, leaning back and pushing his empty plate away.
He wanted to focus on her words.
Not the sadness around her eyes.
The cautiousness about her next move.
Just listen to her talk it out.
“You can tell me I’m nuts. I’ve been told it enough. Sean said the same thing. I could be reaching for something that isn’t there.”
“But you won’t know until you get it all out?”
“That’s how I feel. First, I’m not sure if Corbin told you about my job.”
“He did. Some of it. And I know you’re a freelance reporter.”
“That’s just kind of a side gig to help with my other writing.”
“You’ll have to explain that part because I thought you wrote like manuals or something.”
She laughed. “I do. But I want to be a fiction writer. I think I always have, but I’ve never been able to actually finish a book. I’d start and stop. I’d get these ideas and then freeze or just trail off.”
“Do you know why?”
“I think I need to tell my story. Even if it’s false. Even if what I put down isn’t right, I need to tell it as part of my therapy. A glimpse of what I lived in my life.”
“That makes sense.”
“But when I decided to do that, I realized there was so much that didn’t add up. Things I’ve pushed off for years and said not to get ahead of myself on. Not to let my mind wander where it has no place being.”
“Like thinking the fire wasn’t an accident?”
“Yes. Hear me out. They said that there was a cigarette left in the tray that caught fire. Yes, there were empty boxes in the living room. Boxes that never got broken down, even empty food boxes.”
“Which will only feed a fire once it starts. Did you have carpet or hardwood floors?”
“Carpet. Those old, cheap, green ones. I remember someone saying that made it worse.”
“Absolutely,” he said. “The fluffy carpets will trap the air and feed it like gasoline making it spread faster across the floor and up the walls.”
“I heard that too.” She continued, “I’m not disputing any of those things. Not at all. But there are two things I don’t understand.”
“What’s that?”
“One. My mother never left anything of a cigarette to burn. She sucked it right until the end. There was nothing to even stub out half the time, but she did. Always. At least in my mind.”
“You’re sure?”
“As sure as I am that she tipped back her can of beer five times to make sure even her backwash came out,” she said drily. “The same as my father. He didn’t smoke as much as her, but he did it occasionally.”
“Are you sure that they might not have lost track of it and gone to bed if they’d been drinking?”
“They were functioning alcoholics. They drank like that all the time, went to bed and got up and went to work the next day. I’m not sure I believe it, but sure, it could be possible.”
“You’re just not buying it?”
“It’s not up to me to do that.”
“Yes, it is. That’s why you’re bringing this up to me. What did Sean say?”
“He said I’m nuts. That I’m overthinking things and he’s not sure why I’m doing that. To just move on. It happened and it can’t be changed.”
“He’s not wrong. What’s the other thing? You said there were two.”
“The paper. They said that the cigarette must have been hanging over the ashtray and caught the papers it was sitting on on fire.”
“That could have happened.”
“But what papers? My parents didn’t read newspapers. There were no magazines in the house. Mail? Maybe it was mail, but that was normally left in the kitchen on the counter. Just piles of it. I can’t for the life of me figure out what papers could have caught fire.”
“Damn. Are you sure you heard that properly?”
“That’s what I was told. Is it possible something else could have caught on fire other than paper? Maybe one of the boxes?”
“Yes. If it was close by. It would have been destroyed though. What they can do is say that the fire originated in the ashtray. The remains of the papers or boxes or being told what was in the house wouldn’t be as clear.”
“Is there a way to find out if some accelerant was used?”
“That would be in the report,” he said. She was grinning at him. “And that is where you want my help? You want me to access it?”
“Is that possible? I know I’m crazy, but I really think I need the closure now. Like I’d regret not putting it from my mind as an adult and just accepting it as a teen.”
“Sure, it is. Why don’t you call and ask for it?”
“Because I don’t want anyone to know.”
“Why?”
“I feel like I’m being a pain calling all the time now.”
He laughed. “You’re not doing anything anyone else hasn’t in years.”
“I know. Or maybe it’s just I don’t want it to get back to Corbin. You won’t tell him, will you?”
“Now you’re making it hard. Why don’t you want me to tell my best friend, and your brother, that you want this information? I think they’d understand if you told them what you said to me and why you want it.”
She shook her head. “No, they won’t understand. They’d think I need to put it behind me. I lightly brought it up to my mother and I could see it in her face, she told me everything she had back then. I don’t want to push more with my family and this will help. Do you want some more?”
“I’ll take another slice if you’re offering.”
She reached over for his plate, lifted it and placed another slice on it. “It came out good. And like I said, I’ll be sending you home with some also.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about keeping this from Corbin.”
“How about you don’t tell him unless he asks,” she said, grinning. “And it might show nothing other than what I’ve been told.”
He took the plate back. “You know damn well that he’s not going to ask.”
“Then there isn’t a problem. You’re not really keeping anything from him.”
He wasn’t so sure he thought of it that way. “Is this book you want to write the real reason you want to know what the report says, or does it have more to do with the car fires?”
She let out a breath and that told him what he needed to know. “I doubt they are related.”
“But you think it? These are car fires. No one is getting hurt. The cars are abandoned on top of it. All but the electric one and that was ruled out as accidental. A malfunction of the car.”
“I know. It’s more about what was in my mind when I moved back.
But it’s the paper thing that is stuck in my head more than anything else.
I think it’s just that I don’t believe that is what happened to my old home more than it tying together with the cars.
It’s just making my itch need to be scratched even more until I can rule out my past. You know, people were in and out of our house all the time.
Even after I went to bed, their friends stopped over.
I’d hear voices but never came down. I don’t know, did they even ask around to see if any other people were there that night? Just things like that.”
“Okay. I’ll look into it if for no other reason than to relieve your mind and see if others were questioned or seen there that night. I highly doubt either of these fires is even closely related. Nothing ties them together. And not with thirteen years between them and nothing else happening since.”
“I know all those things. Like I said. Just looking for that closure.”
And when he finished with his plate five minutes later and stood up to bring it to the sink, she took it out of his hand and carried it in with hers.
“I’ll help you clean up.”
“I’m not going to say no,” she said.
She didn’t have a dishwasher, so she washed and he dried.
When the dish towel was dropped on the counter, he was positive she was going to kick him out, but he pulled her back into his arms and held on tight.
She didn’t let go. Didn’t even attempt to wiggle away.
Not bad for someone her brothers always said never liked to be touched or hugged.
“What’s this for?” she asked, looking up at him.
Her blue eyes were wide. He saw the arousal behind them. The yearning that he was feeling just as much.
“You looked like you could use it. You’re tense now.”
“I’ve got no reason to be tense. You’re making that up.”
“I’m not, but I’ll let you think I believe you.”
She was still in his arms, making no attempt to leave them, but leaning back against his laced fingers on her back.
He went with his gut. It hadn’t bit him in the ass yet.
It might now, but he wasn’t one to walk away either.
He dipped his head down. Just to place a chaste kiss on her lips. Kind of a friendship one.
But the minute his lips touched hers, all thoughts of friendship flew out of his brain.
And when her arms went up and around his neck, then her mouth opened under his, her tongue sliding in.
Yeah, there was no stopping him from kissing her back just as hard. Just as fast.
Nor hiding the way his body was responding.
When she finally pulled back and said, “Corbin doesn’t need to know about this either.”
He knew he was in trouble.