Chapter 10
The Firehouse Dinner
Ben's mother invited Lucy to Sunday dinner.
This was not unusual.
Lucy had eaten hundreds of meals with the Carters.
What was unusual was Ben noticing every time she entered a room.
He was setting plates on the dining table when the front door opened. Lucy stepped inside carrying an apple tart.
His attention shifted before he could stop it.
Mara was away. His mother was in the kitchen. No one stood between Lucy and the fact that Ben had started wanting to see her.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi."
She held up the tart. "Your mother told me not to bring anything."
"So naturally you baked."
"Naturally."
His mother appeared behind him. "Lucy, sweetheart. Put that in the kitchen before Ben eats half of it standing up."
"That happened once," Ben said.
"Three times," his mother corrected.
Dinner was loud in the way Carter dinners had always been loud. Ben's younger cousin stopped by. His mother asked about the festival. Lucy described the upcoming craft market while Ben listened to her talk with her hands.
He had known her for years.
How had he missed so much?
After dinner, they carried dishes into the kitchen.
"You don't have to help," Ben said.
Lucy looked offended. "I have always helped."
"I know."
"Then why say it?"
He rinsed a plate.
"Because sometimes people should tell you that you don't have to."
Lucy went still.
Ben regretted the sentence immediately. It was too close to something real.
She dried the plate carefully.
"Do people tell you that?"
"What?"
"That you don't have to help."
He smiled without humor. "Not often."
"Maybe they should."
Their eyes met.
The kitchen seemed suddenly quiet despite the voices in the next room.
Ben wanted to tell her then.
Not everything. He did not know everything yet.
But something.
That he liked these nights at the library more than he expected. That he thought about her when he was at work. That when she smiled at him, something in his day settled into place.
Instead, he handed her another plate.
Lucy dried it.
"You know," she said, "when I was younger, I thought you had everything figured out."
"That's embarrassing for both of us."
She laughed softly.
"You seemed so sure of everything."
"I was twenty-seven and owned one decent pan."
"I know that now."
"What do you think now?"
Lucy looked at him for a long moment.
"I think you're better than I gave you credit for."
Ben's chest tightened.
"That's dangerously close to a compliment."
"Don't get used to it."
He smiled.
Too late.
He was already getting used to far too much.
After dessert at the Carter house, Lucy stepped onto the back porch for air. Ben followed a few minutes later carrying two mugs of tea.
"Peace offering," he said.
"For what?"
"Existing near my family. It's exhausting."
Lucy took the mug.
The porch overlooked a narrow yard where Ben's mother still grew tomatoes long past the sensible season. A string of lights hung above the fence.
"I used to sit out here with Mara when we were in college," Lucy said.
"I remember."
"You were never home."
"I was working. Or pretending I had a social life."
Lucy smiled. "You did have a social life."
"Mostly other firefighters and people who liked bars louder than human speech."
"You always looked busy."
"I was."
He leaned against the railing.
"I think I liked being busy. If you're busy, no one expects you to explain what you're doing with your life."
Lucy looked at him.
"That's unexpectedly philosophical for someone who once tried to grill pizza."
"It was innovative."
"It fell through the grate."
"The concept was sound."
They laughed quietly.
Then Ben said, "What did you think you were doing with your life back then?"
Lucy looked into her tea.
"Trying to become someone no one could regret depending on."
The answer surprised even her.
Ben did not joke.
"That's a hard job."
"I got good at it."
"Maybe too good."
Lucy met his eyes.
"Maybe."
From inside, Mrs. Carter called that someone needed to take leftovers home.
The moment loosened.
But later, as Ben packed containers into Lucy's tote bag, he slipped an extra slice of apple tart on top.
She did not mention it.
He did not need to.