For the first time since Jess had started at Blue Heron, the morning dragged. All she could think about was the presentation, which she’d practiced until eleven last night. It would be a home run. She just knew it. And yes, Connor could sit there and look hot, and when she was done with the presentation, he’d field questions with ease, because Empire State Food & Beverage would be begging to give him the six hundred grand.
When the meeting ended and she went to her car, she thought of that little green plastic creature. He could keep it in his pocket, and maybe remember that beautiful, simple day at the 4-H fair, and that she’d kissed him. In public.
She drove down toward the Village, taking a right at the bottom of the hill. Soon, she’d be taking a left and going right into the Village, into her own little house.
And strangely, the thought didn’t bring her as much happiness as she’d imagined it would.
But owning a house was something she was going to do. She’d come too far to move into someone else’s place. She’d given Ned notice that she and Davey were moving, and it was fine with Ned. He’d paid off his credit card bill, and was moving back into the Opera House.
So it would be just her and Davey again, same as always.
There it was once more, that pang of...something.
She turned onto her street. Saw Ricky running up her steps.
The dread hit her before the facts.
There was smoke. There was smoke and a bad smell, and oh, God, a fire, a fire, but it was okay, it was okay, because Davey was at work—
And then Ricky came out the door and down the steps, his arm around Davey, and Davey’s arm was in front of his face, and his hands were bright, bright red.
“Davey!” she screamed. She pulled over so hard she hit the curb. Threw open the car door, fell, and was up and running. “Davey!” She didn’t recognize her own voice, it was so choked by fear.
“He’s okay,” Ricky said. “Just a little burn. Fire’s out, but I called 911 already.”
Tears streaked Davey’s sooty face. Dear God, thank you, he seemed okay, but there was a livid red streak up his cheek, and his hair...his chick-like hair was uneven, because a good chunk of it was singed off.
And his hands, his poor hands were bright red. “Oh, honey,” she said, and she was shaking so hard, and her chest was heaving. “Oh, God, oh, honey, what happened, are you okay?”
“My hands hurt,” he said, sobbing. “It wasn’t my fault! I’m sorry, Jess.”
“No, no, it’s okay. We’ll get your hands taken care of. What happened? Why are you home?”
“I wanted to surprise you,” he said, tears pouring down his face. “I wanted to cook you supper the way Connor taught me.”
* * *
LEVI WAS FIRST on the scene, screeching up in his patrol car, Emmaline right behind him. The fire department was there in minutes, Gerard and a few other firefighters so reassuring in their gear, tramping through the house, checking the rooms, using the thermal imaging camera to see if there was fire in the walls, just to be sure. Pru sat with her, telling her it was okay, abject terror was just part of raising kids. Honor came, and Faith, baby in her arms, and Lucas Campbell. Tanner Angst and Debbie Meering from drum circle...just about everyone in town had come as soon as they heard it over the scanner—structure fire, 159 Academy Street, disabled person in residence.
Somehow her father found out. Keith arrived as they were trying to convince Davey to go to the hospital.
“Davey, you’re hurt,” Jess said. She was still shaking so hard she couldn’t stand, and they were sitting on the front steps of Ricky’s house, wet towels over Davey’s arms. Jess was pressing a cool cloth against his face.
“I want to watch the firefighters,” he said.“If you get an infection, it’s really going to hurt.”
“It wasn’t my fault.”
“I bet Gerard would use lights and sirens for you,” Levi said. “You still love that, don’t you, bud?”
“No. I want to stay.” He was getting frustrated, Jess knew. His mouth had that stubborn, tight look to it.
“I’ve never ridden in an ambulance,” Keith said. “I’ve always wanted to. Would you let me go with you, son? It’d be really fun for me.”
Davey went to scratch his head, then stopped, wincing at the pain in his hands, and Jess bit down hard on the tears. “Okay, Dad,” he said.
“Come on, Jess,” Levi said, offering his hand. “You can ride with me.”
* * *
AT THE HOSPITAL, they were shown into a room and told to wait. And of course, Jeremy Lyon wasn’t on duty; he was away at a conference, so there was no friend present at just the right time, the way there had been for Colleen when she popped out her baby. No, for Davey, there was sit and wait.
Her poor little boy. If his hair didn’t grow back...if he had a scar... Yeah, at least he was okay, but this was huge. What if he had night terrors again, the way he had after Chico the Original was put to sleep, after Mom died? Was the house okay for them to sleep in?
This was why she’d never wanted kids. This heart-stopping terror.
Prudence, Levi and her father were all in the waiting room. She wanted to be alone with Davey; he’d been getting more and more upset, concerned that he’d be in trouble for the fire. She’d assured him this wasn’t his fault, then stroked his hair. Some of the burned strands broke under her hand like dust, and the smell was dreadful. After a few minutes, he dozed off, exhausted from the shock and fear.
He wasn’t the one who should be worried about getting into trouble.
She stepped in the hall to make some phone calls and figure out how the hell this had happened.
Her screen showed three missed messages from Connor. Four texts. Oh, she’d be talking to him soon enough, that was for sure.
First on her shit list, however, was Petra, the manager of the candle factory. Jess told her what happened and chewed her out in a whisper. Petra was supposed to notify Jess if Davey left the candle shop early, and it didn’t matter if Davey had lied and said she was home, she was supposed to check, and who cared if he’d never done anything like this before? This was policy for damn good reason!
“I’m so, so sorry,” Petra said, and it sounded like she might be crying. “Davey said you and he were going to make dinner together.”
“Well, he lied.” First time, too. Connor had taught him more than cooking.
According to Davey, he and Connor had been meeting secretly for weeks. Weeks! Connor had been teaching him to cook so he could get a girlfriend. How to talk to girls, how not to mention their boobs, how to tell them they smelled good, but mostly, how to cook.
Davey had also said that Connor told him never to use the stove when he was alone.
Connor had never mentioned the oven.
And that was the problem. People didn’t understand how Davey thought. The letter A was not necessarily followed by the letter B. She knew that. Connor did not. He had some nerve, going over her head. She, who’d taken care of Davey her entire life.
How dare he?
She had never been so angry in her life. Her entire body shook with fury from the bone marrow out. Connor had no business deciding that Davey—her Davey—was capable of being around flame and heat and sharp objects. He had no idea.