The Fireman I Loved to Hate by Jenna Gunn

Chapter 17

I squint at my phone screen, trying to ignore Monroe meowing his woes at me. I haven’t fed him any of the cheese from the bag, and the injustice has not gone unnoticed.

I seal the bag and toss it onto the counter, then grab the potatoes. My shoulders tense and I wipe my brow. This is a new recipe, and it’s for the Logans, so I’m doing everything in my power not to mess it up.

I pull my phone over to my cutting board and continue to scan the recipe for any mistakes. So far, so good. I cut the potatoes into chunks and fret over the torte I had wanted to make for them. I’ve never been much of a baker-too much science involved. It’s like delicious chemistry.

Oh, I like that phrase. I wipe my hands down and write it onto a post-it note, then stick the note on the wall. I stare at the note for a moment too long. It’s triggering something in my mind.

Delicious chemistry is what I have with Alex.

Balls. There I go again, thinking of him for no real reason. My thoughts keep dancing around him, and like baking, I’ve never been much of a dancer, either. I drop the pale potato chunks into the boiling water and see them bounce around each other gracefully. I always wished I could have been raised in dance classes, like so many of my friends. I picture them dancing in poofy white cotillion dresses, twirling and swirling, to and from their suitors, and it makes me smile. As I watch the potatoes waltz around one another, Monroe swats the cheese bag, and I’m brought back to reality. “Monroe, you’ve had enough treats for now.”

He makes a face, then hops off the countertop and chases after Carmen.

Why did I pick a new recipe for this? I could have gone with something I already knew how to make, but no. I needed to try something new. After Trisha’s scolding, I feel the need for clean slates all around.

It’s not the first time she’s given me a talking-to. She’s my best friend, and like most best friends, we tell each other the ugly truth now and then. Some ugly truths are harder to swallow than others.

Maybe I was being stupid.

Maybe my modernity complaints were ridiculous.

But that doesn’t change the way I feel. I still couldn’t believe she, of all people, was telling me to change for a man. Little Miss Independent herself. Just wait until she finds a guy she loves like I love Alex. She’ll see.

Whoa, where the hell did that come from?

I shake my head clear and look at the recipe. But the casserole is in the oven. And the timer is counting down. When did I do all that? I’m extra distracted today, it seems. My own hands betray me, for I cannot stop thinking of that man.

I scribble the thought onto a post-it and hang it next to the Delicious Chemistry note. Hmm…I may be confused about Alex, but at least I’ll get something good out of it.

-

I could have stopped by Alex’s sister’s bakery. The Logans are in Charleston. I shrug and tell the casserole dish on the passenger seat, “Too late now.”

My phone’s GPS takes me to the extended-stay hotel, where Lynn and Mr. Jimmy are staying until their house is rebuilt. I’ve taken pictures of the progress and resolve not to complain about the noise. It’s a disruption to my writing, but if I needed silence, I could have bought a cabin in the woods.

The casserole dish is still warm when I pick it up to go inside. I head through the main lobby, and breeze past the concierge. He just smiles, since I seem to know where I’m going.

I hope Lynn got my text-the elevator won’t go beyond the second floor without a room key, so I can’t go up on my own. But then I hear the elevator ding, and a bright, “Well, Honey, you didn’t have to come all this way!”

I grin when I see her sweet face. The fire has aged her even more, and she looks tired, but happy. I shake my head and smile. “Why do you think I asked for the address?”

“I never know with you kids, always up to something. You just missed our son’s visit.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you got to see him!”

She nods, “So am I. It did Jimmy a lot of good.”

The door opens and we go to their room. It’s nice, but small, though I don’t imagine they need much. The carpets are a patterned gray, and the walls have a beige wallpaper on them, but it somehow goes with all the neutral furniture. Mr. Jimmy sits in the living room with the remote control. His face lights up when he sees me. “Miss Raina!”

“Hi, Mr. Jimmy!”

“What have you got there?”

“Cheesy potato casserole.”

“And you brought that for us?”

I laugh. “Of course. It’s Wednesday.”

He stands up, and it looks like a struggle. But he takes the casserole dish and sets it aside so he can hug me. He’s so thin that his rib bones jab me. I wasn’t expecting our first hug to be so painful, and I’m glad I loaded the casserole up with extra butter. He’s wasting away. “Thank you, you sweet girl.”

“Anything I can do to help.” He releases me and for the first time in my life, I feel like a hug was too short. “Wow, it’s like an apartment in here.”

“Sure is,” Lynn says. “A little small, but I’m trying to make it feel like home.” She gestures to some blankets that don’t match any of the décor. I imagine she QVC’ed the bright stripey monstrosities here as soon as she could.

“That’s seems more like it,” I smile and sit at the little table where he set the casserole dish. It’s a four seater, but only if everyone was very comfortable with each other.

Mr. Jimmy says, “Something’s bothering you, ain’t it?”

I quickly shrug and ask, “What makes you ask?”

His eyes narrow on me. “Lyndy, there’s something wrong with the girl.”

“Nuh uh,” I shake my head and hear the stress in my own voice. We all know I’m lying, and I don’t like feeling so exposed. But if I could be exposed in front of anyone safely, it would be the lovely Logans.

“Lyndy!”

She rolls her eyes and says, “Jimmy, you don’t need to shout, we’re in the same room.”

“Look at her!”

She fixes her eyes on mine and I want to look away, but that would be rude. We both know I’m going to give up, and I don’t like giving up without a fight. Finally, she looks into the casserole dish and scoops us portions onto Styrofoam plates. She gently asks, “Is it the fireman?”

“It was nothing,” I sigh.

Her lips form a line as she thinks of how to pry it out of me. I know that look well. I used to get it from my parents whenever the topic of boys came up. She sits across from me and Mr. Jimmy sits with us at the table. He says, “It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

“You both have enough on your plate right now,” I tell them, “My problems are nothing compared to a burned out house.”

She gives him a sly look, then says, “Whatever our problems are, you know I love gossip.”

I can’t stop myself from chuckling at her.

“Besides, after everything we’ve been through, don’t you want to entertain us feeble old people?” Mr. Jimmy asks with a wink.

“Oh, fine,” I smile and roll my eyes. I knew once they started, I was in for it. “It is the fireman.”

“Oh, I knew it!” Lynn is giddy.

Mr. Jimmy asks, “The one who saved me?”

I slowly nod.

Lynn says, “I told her to invite him in for lemonade, he saved your life, and now they’re an item! Tell us how it all happened.”

“Well, we’re not exactly an item.”

Mr. Jimmy asks, “Doesn’t he know a beautiful girl when he sees one? What’s wrong with this boy? Want me to call him?”

I laugh. “Oh god, no. But thank you. We’ve…” my mind drifts apart, then comes together. I wonder how to talk to them about all of this nonsense. “We’ve been involved.”

“Involved? Sounds like an item to me,” she says.

“Not exactly,” I tell them.

“Oh. OH. I see,” Mr. Jimmy says.

Lynn asks, “What? You see what?”

He gives her a head tip and an intense look that tells her everything.

“Ohhh. That sort of involved,” she knowingly nods. “Well, how many times have you been involved?”

“A few.” My face burns, and I’m sure it’s bright red.

Lynn giggles and Mr. Jimmy gives me a little smirk. But they both remain quiet on the matter for a breath.

“And I think…I think I like him,” I stumble over the words.

He laughs, “Well, I should hope so!”

She giggles. “Raina, were you a virgin?”

“Oh god, no!”

“Then why do you sound so confused about how you feel? This isn’t your first love affair.”

I take a deep breath and tell them about our romantic misadventures and my particular fetish for vintage gentlemen. “…it’s complicated.”

“Like hell it is, kid,” Mr. Jimmy says, “you’re just scared!”

“What?” I am shocked he said that.

He shrugs, “He asked you out. You’re sweet on him. You’ve already broken the Lord’s laws-”

Lyn scolds him, “Jimmy, we don’t judge-”

“I ain’t judgin’, just telling truths. And I don’t see why this has to be so complicated, except for whatever is happening in your head, Miss Raina. Take it from me,” Mr. Jimmy pats Lynn’s hand and says, “life gets complicated enough without getting in your own way.”

Lynn says, “He may not have the grace of tongue, but he has the grace of heart, Raina, Jimmy is right. You’re making this much more complicated than it needs to be.”

“But…my Victorian heroes,” I mumble weakly.

“You sound like the little boys who whine when they find out their comic book heroes are fake, Darlin’,” Mr. Jimmy says. “If all you want out of life is a man you can fantasize about, then leave real men out of your bedroom. It’s not fair to them, and you can die an old maid without crushing men along the way. Or,” he looks me square in the eye, “you can own up to your foibles, call that man, tell him you love him, and see where this goes.”

“That’s preposterous! I don’t love him, I loathe him. He just falls into bed the moment I bat my eyelashes…he makes me so…” My brow knits together when I frown at him, but I lose myself in my sentence.

“It’s not, Dear,” Lynn shakes her head. Her voice is sweet and Southern, when she leans close to say, “Raina, you are smart and talented, and one of the dumbest women I have ever met when it comes to men.”

I laugh. “Maybe.”

“Now tell me all the juicy details about your involvement.”

I laugh again, harder this time.

-