Chapter 29
29
EMBER
Connor is waiting for me by the entrance to the park. The place is busy – swarming with families who’ve decided to have a fun day out at the country fair. I can already hear the cheering sounds of a crowd and the rhythmic beating of distant music before I even round the corner.
And that’s when I see Connor. He stands out, being so tall and all. He looks funny dressed casually in a shirt and jeans. I realize I’ve only ever seen him in some variant of his firefighter uniform until he came to save me from the puddle yesterday. The man’s probably just thrown on whatever shirt he had lying around his place. Fashion isn’t his passion, it seems, and yet he still looks good . His thick arms bulge against the outline of his shirt. His tattoos stand out in the crowd of families. The V shape of his body deliciously slides into those rough jeans. He’s not into fancy tailored clothes unlike his brothers, that’s for sure.
There are banners sprayed around the front of the park welcoming everyone to the fair. Kids run around Connor freely and laugh playfully. Crystal River has never seemed so full. It feels like the entire town is here today. I’m actually really liking it. I think this’ll be fun.
And it’s going to be strange doing all of this with this grumpy firefighter...
I take in a deep breath. I have to say, I am a bit nervous as to how this day is going to go. I still can’t get a read on the Penmayne. I’m worried he might suddenly turn on me and make me face his stubborn wrath. Or things could just be super painfully awkward between us. I don’t know what I’m more afraid of.
Connor’s piercing eyes light up when he sees me.
“Hello, Ember,” he says as I reach him. “I’m glad you made it.”
I flash him a grin.
“Me too, Connor.”
“I thought you might not come,” he says.
I teasingly poke him in the rib.
“And not go to a fair? Come on, Connor, you don’t know me at all. I’m so freaking excited for all of this. Aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am.”
“What? Really? Mr. Grumpy is planning on actually enjoying himself today?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, Connor. Show me a good time.”
“Certainly.”
We wander together into the park, beaming at each other like naughty schoolkids.
This fair is everything you’d imagine of a small town American one. There are all the treats you’d expect – cotton candy, lemonade stands, corn dogs. We pass a petting zoo with kids running around with goats and miniature horses. There are all the carnival games that you would anticipate in a place like this.
“Let’s do a game,” I suggest to my firefighter escort as we stroll past a bunch of kids trying to shoot targets with air rifles.
Connor chortles at my suggestion. He seems so unserious today. It’s so unlike him. I think our little interaction in my motel room over my leaking pipes has broken the ice wall between us a little bit. Maybe he’s not quite as stern as I might’ve once thought...
“Those games are all rigged,” he says. “We’ll win nothing, Ember.”
“I’m sure you can,” I say, poking him again in the ribs playfully. “Nothing stops a Penmayne, right?”
“If you say so, Ember.”
“One game?”
“Are you going to keep pestering me?”
I nod at the air rifle game.
“I’m positive you’re not bad at shooting, yeah?” I ask the firefighter.
Connor rolls his eyes.
“I’m not doing it, Ember.”
“Come on, are you chicken?”
Connor shakes his head.
“You can’t call me chicken ...”
“Then play the game,” I retort with an excitable shriek. “Otherwise I have no choice but to keep on calling you chicken all day. What’s it gonna be?”
Connor grunts his usual grunt.
“Okay,” he mutters. “Fine. You win, Ember. Gimme the gun.”
“That’s the spirit.”
We head up to the stall and Connor hands over the cash. The worker passes him a black rifle and immediately Connor is shooting. He holds the gun up so naturally against his big frame. He’s clearly fired guns before. His huge biceps steady the weapon as he positions it against his shoulder and...
Bam!
Bam!
Bam!
In quick succession, Connor hits every target going. They all rapidly collapse under his superb marksmanship. He’s a perfect shot.
I just stare at him and his antics, completely dumbfounded.
“It’s not too rigged,” he tells me nonchalantly as he hangs up the rifle.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” I reply, blinking.
Connor shrugs.
“Yeah, I’ve had some practice,” he says. “Father always wanted us to know our way around weapons.”
“Connor... you were amazing... you could compete professionally...”
He shrugs again like it was absolutely nothing.
“I wonder what our prize will be,” he says.
We soon find out. It’s a giant panda plush toy. Connor giggles excitedly and totally unexpectantly when he takes it from the worker. He passes the panda straight onto me triumphantly.
“What the hell?” I ask him as my hands take the weight of the giant plush toy.
“This is for you, Ember.”
“I don’t want...”
“It’s a gift,” Connor says. “It’ll keep you company as you stay all alone in that leaking motel room of yours.”
I roll my eyes as the firefighter giggles again.
“Gee, thanks.”
Maybe this day won’t be as painful as I feared.
Maybe we might even enjoy ourselves.
We both get freshly squeezed lemonade and take a long walk around the fair. I’m still having to carry the giant panda along with me. It feels so soft and cuddly against my face.
“Why did you want to be a firefighter in the first place?” I ask Connor as I take a sip of the lemonade with one hand and squeeze the plush toy with the other.
“Are you interviewing me, Miss Mortensen?” the firefighter questions with a raised eyebrow. “Here? Now?”
“I got a job to do,” I say. “And we were interrupted the other day.”
“True.”
“So, tell me, Connor... what is it about being a firefighter that drew you in?”
“I like serving my community,” he replies. “Being able to serve others is a big value I place on myself. It’s very rewarding. Firefighting is a very rewarding job.”
“I guess it doesn’t pay well, though.”
“No, not really. But I’m doing something with my hands that has an important and tangible impact on people’s lives. That’s reward enough.”
“Are you worried about your job?” I ask him.
“In what way?”
“Like, being hurt and everything?”
“I’ve got my fair share of bruises and scars and burns, but they’re nothing,” Connor replies. “I like to think of myself as a tough enough guy to not let that stuff bother me too much.”
“You’re not worried about dying in the line of duty?” I ask.
Connor takes in a sharp inhale of breath. A momentary and uncharacteristic flash of worry passes his face.
“Who isn’t worried about dying? I just never think about it, and certainly when I’m not in the middle of doing a job. I do my work, and I do it well, and I do it safely. Anything else that happens to me in the process is totally out of my control. I can’t worry about it, otherwise I’ll go crazy. I’ve seen it happen to other guys, and it ain’t pretty.”
“You know, you’ve got a very Zen philosophy about life,” I remark. “It’s rare. I’ve not seen it in many of my interviewees.”
Connor laughs at that.
“I don’t subscribe to anything,” he says. “No philosophy or anything like that. I just want a simple life, that’s all. I want to serve my community. Meaning doesn’t have to be found in material things, it can be found in the simple... like when you help someone else or make a person’s day a little brighter. Sometimes that’s all you need to do to find meaning in this life. It doesn’t have to be anything deeper than that.”
Damn.
I stare at the man and just feel so... connected with his words.
I feel like I understand him completely.
And finally, I think all the pieces click together. I think I now know what makes him tick.
He just wants to be a good man.
It’s what everyone who knows him deeply have been trying to tell me, but I’ve shrugged them off. A good man. I like that a lot.
“You want a deeper question?” I ask him cheekily. I don’t want to admit to him how much his answer just then has affected me.
“Like what, Ember?”
Here goes...
I take in a long breath.
“How’s your love life?” I ask.
Connor smirks at my teasing.
“What do you mean by that, Ember?”
“Like, have you dated? What do your girlfriends think of your values and your lifestyle?”
“You’re getting too personal, Ember. Don’t you dare start mocking me.”
“Okay, so it is a serious question,” I reply. “I’m genuinely curious.”
The firefighter shakes his head.
“I won’t answer that question,” he says. “No comment.”
“Good duck out of that one,” I reply. “But what about your brothers?”
“What about them?”
“They are infamous playboys with some big reputations. Well, most of them are...”
“I might look like my brothers,” Connor retorts, “but I’m not like them, especially when it comes to dating. I’ll either go all-in or nothing when it comes to matters of the heart. To be honest, it’s hard to find a girl who can understand the life-or-death existence of a firefighter.”
“I guess most women can’t deal with the stresses of knowing their partner is in harm’s way every day,” I say.
“Yep. Seems so. Is there anything else you want to interrogate me on, Ember?”
And now I finally ask him the question I’ve been meaning to ask him. I finally feel bold enough to say it.
“I know it’s off-limits, but why did you leave your family?”
Connor goes quiet at that. We continue our walk, but we have considerably slowed.
We’re getting further away from the screams and laughter of children. We’re approaching the far end of the fair.
“I never left them,” Connor finally says softly. “I’m still a Penmayne. I haven’t changed my name, and I won’t lie about where I’m from... it’s just that I can’t reconcile my values with those of my father. Waylen doesn’t approve of what I’m doing with my life. Waylen would love for me to go work for him or do anything else but stay in Crystal River and provide meaningful work to the people of this small town. He thinks I’m wasting my potential by being a firefighter. I don’t think so. That’s what has happened.”
I nod.
“I think I understand,” I reply. “I know it’s out of my turn to tell you this, but I think your father really cares about you.”
Connor scoffs.
“I think that’s a very na?ve take, Ember.”
“I saw how he speaks about you, back at his office in the city when he sent me here.”
“He’s a smart and charismatic man, Ember,” Connor replies. “He can have you believing anything he wants you to believe. He’s a skilled chameleon. He knows how to act better than my Hollywood superstar brother. He may say the nice words, but he’s got other intentions.”
“You really think that?” I ask.
“I know so,” Connor replies.
“So there is no way you can reconcile with your father?” I question.
“There are things he would have to do to make me reconsider our relationship,” Connor mutters, staring into his cup. “He would have to be prepared to meet me halfway.”
“Life is short, Connor,” I whisper sincerely. “I wish I knew my father. I’d probably slap him if I ever met him, but I would like to sit down with him and just talk it all out.”
“Where’s your father now?” Connor asks me.
“He died,” I reply. “A long time ago and a long way away from me. I didn’t know him. My mom is a nurse who traveled the world. She raised me on her own. She pushed me into journalism. Now she’s retired, and she does her own thing. Now she’s traveling the world again on her own terms, while I do exactly the same.”
“That sounds like an amazing life,” Connor remarks. “For both you and your mother.”
“Yes, it is.”
“And what about men for you, Ember?” he asks. “You have anyone back in the big city?”
“Now you’re the one interviewing me, Connor.”
He shrugs.
“I just want to know,” he replies.
“There aren’t many men who understand my life,” I say.
Connor smiles. A nice, genuine smile.
“I bet there isn’t,” he says. “I bet there aren’t many men who match what you’re looking for. I can understand that.”
We both stare at each other.
Sparks are flying. There’s something undeniable between us.
We could even kiss...
But I really shouldn’t. Not with the man I was sent to interview.
But he looks so incredible . My body is pushing me toward him. Everything inside of me is aching for him.
And yet I can’t do this. I know I can’t.
Connor is still staring at me. And I’m still staring at him.
At his chiseled face. At his rough beard. At his full lips.
I need to find a way out of this.
And then I see something. Over Connor’s shoulder. A banner for a woodcutting competition.
“Look at that,” I whisper. “A woodcutting competition. I bet you like to do that.”
He turns to glance at the banner.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
“You should enter it, Connor.”
His head sharply turns back to me.
“No way, Ember. I won’t win.”
“Do it,” I say.
“No, I’ll embarrass myself. I’ll lose miserably.”
I stare him down.
“Do it, Connor. I’d like to see you try. For me.”