Callahan's Fate (5 page)

Her intuitive understanding acted like a
balm for his restless soul.
 
“Then okay,
yeah, I will,” he said.
 
“Thanks,
Raine
.”

Callahan located the remote control and
sprawled on the couch with the pillows bunched under his head.
 
Although weary to the bone, he didn’t figure
on sleeping, just watching whatever game he found on TV, but as he watched the
third quarter of the Notre Dame game, his eyes became heavy.
 
Before he yielded to sleep, his mind drifted
and the domestic sounds from the kitchen soothed him.
 
Cal heard the whisper of the knife blade as
she peeled potatoes, the slap and sizzle of the steak when she placed it into a
skillet, and the thwack she made as she chopped the other vegetables.
 
Raine
hummed low as
she worked, and although he lacked the best musical ear, he recognized it as
Glenn Miller’s classic, “Sentimental Journey.”
 
His grandmother had adored Glenn Miller and often played heavy old seventy-eight
records with his sound.

As the aroma of food began to circulate
through the small rooms, the familiar noise and the music bridged the past with
the present.
 
A deep contentment wove
around him, as comforting as a blanket.
 
No one had ever made a home-cooked meal in his place before, and as he
grew drowsy, Cal made an effort to count the years since he’d witnessed such an
event.
 
It had to be Gran
,
making pot
roast or fried chicken or corned beef and cabbage or something.
 
His grandmother had been gone for seven
years, a long time, but he missed her.
 
Sometimes he thought he could still smell the sweet scent of her sachet,
and as he crossed into sleep, his last conscious thought was that she would
like
Raine
.

He woke slow and somnolent.
 
Cal became aware of one detail at a
time.
 
Delicious smells entered his nose
and brought forth a powerful hunger he hadn’t known he could summon.
 
The sounds of the football game had been
replaced with music, the pleasant, easy sounds of Mannheim Steamroller on the
stereo. When he shifted position to sit up, he realized
Raine
had placed a blanket over him while he slept.
 
Cal scrubbed his face with both hands to remove the lingering fatigue
and glanced toward the kitchen.

Raine
stood at the
stove, stirring a pot on one of the rear burners with a brisk motion.
  
Outside, rain pelted the windows with a
steady patter.
 
He checked the clock and
shook his head to see it was six thirty, already dark because of the cloud
cover.
 
A peace he hadn’t experienced in
a long while settled over him.
 
“Hey,” he
said.

She turned toward him with a smile. “Hi,
you woke up just in time.
 
Everything’s
almost ready.”

“It smells great.
 
I think I must’ve died.”

“You must’ve been tired,” she told him.

“Yeah, no
kidding.”
He paused to brush one hand over his hair. “I guess I needed the rest.”

A few minutes later, they sat down to
supper at his small table.
 
She delivered
two plates, each filled with a generous portion of round steak smothered with
onions, mushrooms, and carrots.
 
A mound
of mashed potatoes rested beside the meat, and she brought a measuring cup
filled with beef gravy and a ladle.
 
She
had poured them each a glass of root beer from the two-liter he kept in the
fridge, and as she sat down across from him, she grinned. “I made brownies for
dessert, too.
 
So what do you think?”

Callahan’s mouth ached to water.
 
“I think maybe I died, see, and this is
heaven or a dream,” he told her. “I haven’t eaten like this in years.
 
A home-cooked meal is a real treat.”

He reached for his fork and his St.
Michael medal shifted position.
 
Although
he hadn’t said grace in years, it felt right, so he took her hands in his and
recited the Catholic blessing he remembered from his youth. “Bless us, oh Lord,
and all thy gifts which we are about to receive from the bounty of Christ, our
Lord, Amen.”

To his surprise, she recited the
familiar words with him.
 
“Don’t tell
me,” he said. “You’re Catholic?”

Raine
nodded. “Yes, I
am.”

Her response touched him.
 
Somehow, he’d managed to meet a pretty woman
in need of a little assistance and then spent the day with her.
 
She liked him, that much came across loud and
clear, and he liked her.
 
On top of that,
she shared his faith. Raised in the church, he hadn’t attended Mass on a
regular basis for some time, but in his heart he still believed, and he’d be
Catholic till he died. And now, so was she.
 
What are the odds on that? Maybe
miracles do happen, or maybe I just caught some good luck for a change.
 
All he knew in this quiet, glad moment
was that he wanted to spend more time with
Raine
.
 
Her presence converted his apartment into a
home.

Callahan lacked the ability to put all
that in words, and even if he possessed it, he didn’t think he would
speak.
 
He wouldn’t risk diminishing this
light in his darkness.
 
When he tasted
his first bite of the smothered steak, he sighed.
 
The fork-tender meat melted on his tongue,
and the vegetables enhanced the flavor. “Damn,” he said. “That’s good.”

Raine
beamed.
“Thanks.
 
Cooking is one thing I can do.”

The delicious meal filled his belly and
kept his mood mellow.
 
Somehow the food
and light conversation nurtured his soul as well as body.
 
Afterward, Cal offered to help clean up, but
Raine
waved him away with one hand. “I cooked, I clean,”
she told him.
 
Then she transferred the
empty plates and silverware to the sink.
 
“I don’t suppose you have an apron?”

An image of a silly apron he’d seen
somewhere that read
Kiss
The
Cook
flashed into his head. “No,” he said. He came
to his feet and pulled her into his arms. “But I can pay for that fine dinner
with this.”

He kissed her, tasting the meal they’d
shared on her lips, savoring the softness of her mouth against his.
  
Unlike earlier, Callahan took his time and
made the kiss into a long, slow caress.
  
For the first moments,
Raine
stood still in
his arms,
then
she put her hands on top of each shoulder
and rested against him.
 
As his mouth
explored hers, she moved her lips against his.
 
Although he’d kissed many women since his teens, none affected him with
the same powerful rush of mixed tenderness and desire.
 
He wanted to take her, to strip his shirt
from her and bare her breasts so he could touch them.
 
Cal ached to put her on her back and take her,
but he yearned to protect her, to treat her with care and gentleness.
 

She evoked emotions he wasn’t sure he
wanted to deal with.
 
As Cal deepened the
kiss, he added a little tongue and he rubbed her back with one hand, slow and
easy.
 
Her hair brushed against his skin
and sent electric prickles down his spine.
 
His cock responded to her proximity by growing hard, pressing against
his pants with such a boner he backed off the kiss so he wouldn’t offend or
frighten her away.

Post-kiss, they stared at each other for
a long moment,
then
she grinned. “I’m glad you liked
it so much,” she told him.

“I did. Say, do you like a good wine?”

Raine
nodded. “I like
a sweet red or a good
Moscato
, yes.”

“Then how’s about I go down the block,
buy a bottle, and we share it?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

He reached for a windbreaker hanging on
a hook near the door. “Okay, then.
 
I’ll
be right back, doll.”

“I’ll clean up the kitchen while you’re
gone and see if my blouse is dry then.”

Callahan grabbed his wallet and keys,
then
headed to the elevator.
 
Once he reached the street, he had to resist breaking into an exuberant
run or dancing his way down the sidewalk.
 
The rain had stopped, and above the narrow canyon between the buildings,
the clouds were gone. The temperature had dropped, too. He skirted a few
puddles as he ducked into the nearest shop, chose a bottle of pink
Moscato
wine, then headed back to his building.

His spirits were high, buoyed up by the
events of the day and the woman named
Raine
.
 
When he’d left that morning, his mood had
been mundane, neither good nor bad.
 
That
much had been a victory over the dark ghosts of tragedy and grief that dogged
him, but now life sparkled with possibilities and the chance for something new,
something bright.

Hope came hard to him, but for the first
time in so long Callahan tasted and savored it, sweeter than the wine he
carried.

He had no idea how the night would end
or what tomorrow might bring, but for once he wanted to find out.

Chapter Four

Raine
touched her
tingling lips with wonder after Callahan walked out the door.
 
She’d never been kissed with such fervor or
feeling.
 
Hard to believe I just met him this morning,
she thought.
 
His home surrounded her like a comfortable
cocoon, and she liked the feeling.
 
Raine
washed the dishes with speed, wiped down the stove,
table, and counters, then wandered into the other room.
 
She picked up the blanket she’d tossed over
Callahan and folded it, then settled onto the couch to wait.

Alone, she indulged in a little
nosiness.
 
She made note of the two
posters on the wall, one of the Broadway musical,
Newsies
,
and the other was the cover of Billy Joel’s early album,
52
^nd
Street.
 
Raine
thought her
parents had it in their extensive record collection and started humming one of
the tunes.
 
Both fit Cal and his hometown
of New York.
 

His uniforms hung in the small closet
next to the bathroom, and she suspected that a locked box held his service
weapon and ammunition.
 
She brushed her
fingers over the sleeve of one shirt, marveling at the idea that her Cal spent
his days working to protect and serve.
 
My
Cal?
When did
he get to be that?
Raine
wondered, but she didn’t even try to dispute it.
 
In her heart, he was.

Without shame,
Raine
slid open the dresser drawers, one at a time.
 
The first two held clothing, T-shirts, underwear, socks, and some
sweats.
 
In the bottom one, she found a
stack of photographs and flipped through them.
 
A boy stood in front of a huge apartment building, and she recognized
Cal by his sideways grin.
 
A teenager
behind him rested one hand on the young kid’s shoulder.
 
There were candid shots of Callahan with a
birthday
cake,
another of an older woman she guessed
must be his grandmother, two women alike enough to be twins, and a few school
pictures.
 
Raine
smiled at the old images and put them back where she’d found them.

She skipped the bathroom, having already
noted the standard contents when she changed out of her wet clothing.
 
In the kitchen, she rifled through the stack
of bills and letters on the table.
 
A
monthly statement from
ConEd
, a sale circular, his
most recent paycheck stub, and a handwritten letter with a Brooklyn return
address—none pique her interest.
 
Raine
paused at the bottom bill in the stack, one from
Mount Sinai Roosevelt Hospital.
 
She’d
been by the place and noted it, but wondered why Cal had been billed.
 
He appeared to be healthy, but a peek at the
bill revealed a large sum he’d been paying for quite
awhile
.
 
Her fingers started to unfold it, but she
heard his key turn in the lock so she put it back and stacked the mail where it
had been.
 
A brief twinge of guilt for
snooping vanished when Callahan entered.