Chapter 7
ELENA
“At least it’s Saturday,” Mae says. “Nowhere to be today, right?”
She’s no-nonsense in a way I appreciate more than ever. She only asks a couple of questions, and they’re focused on the present moment and our comfort rather than the sinister mystery that’s followed us to Moon Ridge.
At her home, which reminds me of a museum that was somehow made inviting and comfortable, she immediately draws a bath for T.J. and lays out clothing for him that’s close enough to his size to work.
He prefers showers, but when I tell him the bath will warm him up, he doesn’t protest. When I mention I’m going to give Hopper a bath, too, he almost looks panicked, and it breaks my heart to see him so shaken and in need of his stuffed friend for comfort.
“I’ll spot clean him for now, but he may need to go in the washing machine soon,” I tell T.J.
While he washes up, I get the smoke smell out of Hopper the best I can. Mae makes tea for me and a grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwich for T.J., which she keeps warm in the pan until he comes out.
While he eats, I take a quick shower, and I’m pleased to find T.J. deep in conversation with Mae about his next LEGO project when I come out. He waves at me, and things feel almost normal.
Mae offers us two guest rooms that are side by side upstairs, but T.J. remains in the hallway, clinging to Hopper. “The bed in my room looks big,” I say. “Why don’t we both take a nap there?”
It’s been quite a while since T.J. has wanted to sleep in my bed, and I wish it were under better circumstances, but I savor the opportunity to hold my child close and listen to his breathing get slower.
I don’t expect to be able to sleep myself, but once I know he’s asleep, a weariness settles over me like a weighted blanket, and I drift off.
It’s after ten when I wake up. T.J.’s still sleeping soundly, so I ease out of the bed without disturbing him.
In the hallway, there’s a brown bag from the general store sitting right in front of my door, and inside, there’s a new pair of joggers and a Moon Ridge sweatshirt. As if Mae wasn’t already doing enough.
I’d been wearing a robe Mae gave me before I showered, but these new clothes will do much better.
After I change, I find her downstairs watering plants in her kitchen.
“Thank you for the clothes, Mae. I’ll pay you back.”
“You absolutely will not. Do they fit okay?” She gives me a once-over, then says, “Good.” After a beat, she adds, “Are you hungry, dear?”
I don’t feel like I’m ever going to be hungry again. “No, I’m fine.”
Mae looks more like her usual self than she did earlier this morning. She’s wearing lipstick and thick lashes, and her hair is perfectly arranged.
“You need to eat.” She slides her plant mister toward the back of the counter, then goes to the pantry and returns with a loaf of bread. “I’ll make you some toast.”
I don’t know why she bothered to ask if she was going to make it anyway, but I appreciate her care.
“T.J. still sleeping?” she asks.
“Mm-hmm. Pretty solidly, it seems.”
Mae gets butter and jelly out of her refrigerator and sets them near the toaster. “That’s good. I can watch him if you want to go over to the house later. I have cartoons queued up on the TV for him, and I found a few toys in a closet that he might like.”
“I appreciate you so much, Mae. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She waves off my gratitude. “Someone in town would help. That’s what we do here.”
It’s true, and it reminds me of the reasons I love this town so much.
While I eat the toast like it’s an assignment, I check my phone and find a text from Buck that came through twenty minutes ago. “Let me know when you’re ready to come by. We’ll pick you up. No rush.”
Though I’m pretty sure he’d be fine, I don’t want T.J. to wake up and find me gone, so I wait until he gets up half an hour later. He’s quiet, but in good spirits, and happily accepts Mae’s suggestion to have soup while he watches TV.
“Could I have another peanut butter and jelly sandwich, too?” he asks. “It was amazing.”
Mae chuckles. “Sure thing, kiddo.”
I’m glad to see he has an appetite. “Will you be okay here while I see what’s going on at our house?” I ask him quietly.
He gives me a thumbs-up as he climbs into the chair where Mae’s already set up a TV tray for him.
I text Buck, and he responds thirty seconds later to say Calder will pick me up soon. I had a feeling Calder or Weston might be included in the “we” Buck mentioned in his earlier text.
Less than five minutes later, Mae cranes her neck to look out through the kitchen window. “Your fireman’s here for you, Elena.”
I frown at her. “He’s not my fireman.”
“He’d like to be,” she says in a sing-song tone. “I see the way his eyes follow you in town. And not just him. Three of the firemen, if I’m not mistaken.”
I’m learning Mae is hardly ever mistaken, but she’s wrong about the reason their eyes have been following me. I’m not ready to tell her about the men’s connection to my husband, though.
I give T.J. a hug and a kiss, and tell Mae to call me if she needs anything.
I’m preparing to run out to Calder’s truck, but he comes to the door. He has a spare coat draped over his shoulder and is carrying two pairs of boots, mine and T.J.’s.
“Morning,” he says in a gruff tone.
Technically, it’s still morning for a few more minutes, but the day already feels incredibly long. “Morning,” I say. I can’t manage to add good before my greeting like I usually would.
“These were by your front door.” He holds out both pairs of boots to me.
“Thanks. I appreciate it. Come in for a minute.” I step back, tug off the rubber boots one of the other firefighters gave me earlier, and put on my boots, which smell of smoke.
“Do you need a jacket?” he asks. “I brought one of ours.”
“They gave me one earlier. Thanks.”
Mae appears, and Calder, who hasn’t come further than the doorway, greets her with a tone as respectful as the one Buck used earlier.
“How are things looking over there?” she asks him.
“Structure’s sound,” he says. “Buck will give you a report later.”
Mae offers him coffee, but he waves it off.
“I’m going to put T.J.’s boots on the porch so they can air out,” I tell Mae, so she’ll know where they are if T.J. needs them.
Then Calder and I leave. He stays close as we go down the porch steps, as if he’s ready to catch me if I slip, and I’m randomly reminded of long-ago memories of being picked up by dates at my parents’ house, though this man is much more intimidating than anyone I went out with back when I was in high school.
Calder opens his truck’s passenger door for me and waits for me to get in so he can close it behind me. His truck is surprisingly spotless, except for some pine needles and bits of melting snow on the floorboards. It’s warm and smells like a man in a woodsy, leathery way.
Once he’s behind the wheel, I realize this is the closest I’ve been to him, outside of briefly passing him on the sidewalk in town or sitting a couple of tables away from him at the restaurant.
I don’t mean to, but I find myself sneaking glances and confirming he’s just as good-looking in close quarters as he is out in the wild.
His eyes are a striking gray color with flecks of warmth in them.
Today, his hair, which I know is thick and nearly black, is mostly hidden under a wool cap.
Dark, close-trimmed hair shades his face, accentuating his strong bone structure.
High cheekbones and a slightly prominent nose add to his chiseled look.
His lips are full and seem permanently fixed in a brooding scowl.
I force my gaze away from him, wondering how my mind has space to admire an attractive man with all that’s going on right now. Maybe it’s looking for a pleasant distraction from all the stress.
“You all right?” he asks when he’s on the road.
“I have to be.”
He gives me a long look, those gray eyes seeming full of sorrow or maybe pity, but he doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the short drive.