Soaring (54 page)

His lips hitched up very slightly but it was his eyes that were communicating.

They said,
See? It’s going fine.

I pressed my knee against his and hoped I gave him the message back that I agreed and it was making me happy.

Dinner done, the kids cleared and rinsed the dishes, putting them in the dishwasher as Mickey got out the dessert plates and I got out the apple pie and ice cream.

Conversation was still flowing but it was at this juncture that it occurred to me that Mickey inserting himself into dinner activities rather than sitting on a stool, drinking beer and being removed, was another skillful move. He’d been to my house often. He was welcome at my house any time I could get him there. I couldn’t say we made dinner together or ate together there but he really wasn’t a guest in my home. He was part of my life and thus part of my home.

And he didn’t cast himself in the role of guest in my home when my children were present either. Something they couldn’t miss and something that again Mickey made easy.

I was grinning to myself at how smart Mickey was when his phone in his jeans pocket rang.

I didn’t think much of this, didn’t even look at him until I felt the shiver trill down my spine.

My head snapped his way to see his focus completely on his phone, his lips muttering, “Sorry, gotta take this,” and his legs moving him out of the kitchen.

I had one eye on Mickey wandering across the landing, one hand on the handle of the knife I was pulling out of the block and half a mind on my daughter who was asking me, “Mom, you want me to nuke the caramel sauce?” when Mickey stopped, turned and started back our way.

“Right. There in ten,” he stated, took his phone from his ear and looked to me. “Gotta go, babe. Fire on the jetty.”

My body stilled completely.

Mickey’s didn’t. His long legs brought him in my space where he bent quick, hand cupped on the back of my head to tilt it, and he brushed his lips against mine so briefly, it was a memory while it was happening.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“That’s okay,” I forced out.

He let me go and looked between the kids. “Sorry to cut this short. Good meal. Cool to meet you.”

“No probs,” Auden replied as Mickey moved swiftly to the door. “Cool to meet you too.”

“Be safe!” my daughter, far more together than me, called as the door was closing on Mickey.

I stared at the door.

There in ten.

I kept staring at the door.

Fire on the jetty.

“Mom, you okay?”

Mickey was off to fight a fire on the jetty.

“Hey, Mom, you okay?”

I blinked and saw Pippa in my space.

“There’s a fire on the jetty,” I whispered and watched my daughter watching me and then I saw her face twist.

Fear.

For Mickey, maybe.

For me, that was the bigger possibility.

I’d proved to both my kids that I couldn’t handle extreme situations.

She thought I was going to lose it.

So I had to pull myself together for a variety of reasons.

For my daughter, who, like my son possibly was with his father, had me to look to to learn how to cope with life and all it could throw at you.

For Mickey, who loved being a firefighter and wanted me in his life so I had to prove I had it in me to deal when something like this happened. He fought fires. He didn’t need to do it at the same time worried his woman was at home falling apart with worry.

And for my son, who possibly was manning up, thinking he had to take care of his mom, and who also didn’t need to worry about his mother falling apart.

Mickey was trained. Mickey was experienced. Mickey had done this before.

I had to trust in him and in the fates that brought him to me. And I had to trust that having him, thus having happiness, the fates wouldn’t then sweep it all away.

I drew in breath and focused on my daughter.

“Okay, do we want pie? And I didn’t ask, did you guys get your schoolwork done? This was a big night for us and we were all busy preparing. But now there’s time so you can hit it without having to stay up until midnight.”

Pippa stared at me in blank surprise.

“I got stuff to do,” Auden shared.

I looked to my son. “You want to do it eating pie?”

He was examining me closely.

He stopped doing that, gave me a gentle grin and asked, “Am I Auden Moss?”

“You are,” I confirmed, grinning back. It might be forced but damn it, I did it.

“Then…totally,” Auden answered about the pie.

“Okay. I’ll get pie,” I said. “You get your books.” I turned my attention back to Pippa. “Sweets? How about you?”

She kept staring at me a moment before she snapped out of it and told me, “I have a paper to write.”

“Oh God, I hope it isn’t a long one,” I mumbled.

“It’ll go faster with pie,” she declared.

I winked at her and replied, “Gotcha. Need my laptop?”

“I have mine.”

“Okay. Let’s get on it,” I said, moving back to the pie.

I was quaking inside and I let that happen.

Outside, I was holding it together.

Maybe one day I’d be able to completely deal.

Maybe not.

It didn’t matter.

This was working.

* * * * *

The TV was playing. The kids were on the couch watching it. I was in my armchair with a full glass of wine I hadn’t touched in an hour and a half.

My eyes were to the television but my mind was on my phone, which was sitting at the base of my wineglass on the table beside me.

I was still quaking inside and now it was worse. It was lucky I was sitting down because I could give the appearance of relaxed lounging when I was not relaxed in the slightest.

It was after eleven. And it was precisely three hours and forty-two minutes since Mickey rushed out to fight a fire on the jetty.

How long did it take to fight a fire?

My phone rang and I couldn’t contain my jump, which I fancied sent me inches into the air in my chair.

I sensed my kids jumping with me.

I looked to the phone and felt a sweet release when I saw on the display that it was Mickey.

I snatched it up and leaped from the chair as I took the call and put the phone to my ear.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hey back,” he replied as I walked the landing in front of my wall of windows.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“Fire’s out,” he answered.

“Everyone’s fine?” I pushed.

“We’re all good, baby,” he said softly, but he sounded tired.

I felt my shoulders slump as I stopped, dropped my head and kept the phone to my ear.

“Good,” I whispered then suddenly lifted my head, twisted and gave a thumb’s up and a reassuring smile to my kids, both of whom were looking over the couch at me.

Pippa clapped silently and Auden gave me a relieved grin.

I turned my attention back to my feet. “Was there a lot of damage?”

“Four shops gutted, fire and smoke damage to the rest of the jetty. It wasn’t good, Amy. Had to call all the rigs in all over the county.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

“Yeah. Haven’t had anything this big in at least ten, eleven years. We’re waitin’ for the cool down so the chief and captains can go in, have a look. But this is a new build. Chief did the inspections himself. No way this shoulda gotten this out of control.”

This did not make me feel great but I was talking to Mickey who sounded tired but obviously was alive so I pushed past that and asked, “What are you saying?”

“I’m sayin’ by the time I got here, there were three rigs here and three shops were already gone. Buildings that are less than a year old made of modern materials, fire alarms and state-of-the art fire protection systems.”

“Are you saying—?”

He cut me off. “Right now I’m sayin’ we’ll finish this later. I just wanted you to know all was good. Most of the shops were closed, civilians that were around got out. No one hurt. We’re hosin’ it down, makin’ sure all the sparks are out. Gonna be a while before I get home.”

“I’ll have my phone on my nightstand.”

“What?” he sounded distracted.

“I’ll have my phone on my nightstand,” I told him. “Call me, text me, whatever before you come home. I just want to see you before you go to sleep. I’ll run over and just…see you then let you go in and crash. Would you mind doing that?”

I had his full attention when he replied, “It’s late and it’s gonna be later when I get home, Amy.”

“You know I don’t mind late when it comes to you.”

I got a soft, sweet, “Right. Then I’ll get in touch, darlin’.”

“Okay, Mickey. I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks, babe. Later.”

“’Bye, honey.”

We rang off and I turned to my kids.

“So he’s okay?” Auden asked for confirmation.

“He is,” I nodded, moving back to them. “Everyone is. It’s all good. I mean,” I positioned my behind over the chair and fell into it, “not the jetty, which sustained a lot of damage. But the important part. The people.”

“Bummed,” Pippa murmured then jerked her head and assured me, “Not about Mickey. Totes happy he’s good, Mom. Just that there are a lot of awesome shops on the jetty. I hope the good ones didn’t get toasted.”

“Olympia Moss, ground zero on new mental illness. Shopping on the brain,” Auden said, his tone having an edge of nasty but it was this in subtle rebuke, stating in his big brother way he thought she’d been insensitive.

“Auden! Shut up!” she snapped.

Auden opened his mouth but I got there before him, doing it straightening out of the chair I’d just collapsed in, taking my wine with me.

“Okay, kiddos, no fighting. I know Pip didn’t mean anything by what she said. But Mom’s had a rough night. The meeting of her beloved children with a man she cares about who is officially now in
all
of our lives and that man racing off to fight a fire before having his pie. I need to sip wine in a hot bath and then go to sleep. Can I do that without you two killing each other in front of the TV?”

“With Pip as my sister, I have tons of experience curbing murderous tendencies,” Auden declared.

“With Auden as my brother, I have
more
,” Pip added irately.

“Wonderful. I’ll wake up to my house as I like it and not the aftermath of a blood bath,” I said while walking in front of the couch and stopping. “Now, hugs for your mom who had a rough night seeing as you could be eighty and give me hugs and that’d fortify me through anything.”

To my delight, neither hesitated before they got up and gave me hugs.

Pippa’s was tight and swift.

Auden’s was longer and included a kiss on the cheek.

As they settled back in, I wandered away, the quake inside gone, good to get in my bathtub, soak, finish my wine and wait for Mickey’s call.

I did my wandering, saying, “Don’t stay up much longer.”

“Won’t, Mom,” Auden replied.

“Going to bed soon,” Pippa told me.

“Okay, kids, ’night.”

I got return “’nights.” I walked to my room. I took my bath. I sipped my wine. I did both of these extremely glad that night was over and proud of myself that I’d found it in me to hold myself together.

Out of the bath, I lotioned and put a spritz of perfume, a pair of fleecy yoga pants, a shelf-bra camisole and a cardigan that was soft and pretty but was also warm.

I lit my fire, got my book, set my phone on the side table and was about to lay on the daybed snuggled under my afghan waiting for Mickey’s call when my eyes drifted to the door.

Mickey was fine. The night went well. All my loved ones were safe.

But one thing happened that night that was niggling me, and after the success of the evening, my kids showing they were good kids, I thought it might be time to do something about it.

I walked out of my room and down the hall to see the living room dark, the TV off.

I kept walking and saw no light coming from under Pippa’s door.

But there was one coming from under Auden’s.

I knocked softly at my son’s door and called, “Hey, kid, you still up?”

“Yeah, come in, Mom,” he called back.

I opened the door, took a step in and stopped.

I had not found a cleaning lady yet because I still was enjoying the feeling of accomplishment when I cleaned my own house.

But with the kids back, I enjoyed it more, picking up rooms they’d made their own because they spent time in them.

Auden’s bed worked much better no longer against the side wall but the back wall and facing his windows to the sea. He had band posters up plus blood-guts-and-glory type inspirational posters, these he’d started putting up years ago, I suspected to psych him up constantly, if sometimes subconsciously, to be a good competitor.

He needed to tidy. He was like his dad dropping his clothes everywhere. And there was tons of stuff all over his dresser, his desk. This I never touched, thinking he probably knew how to find whatever he needed. But it was a sixteen-year-old boy’s room, lived in and Auden’s, even if it was that in a multi-million dollar show home.

I liked this.

But I was hesitant about the conversation we needed to have.

“Everything cool, Mom?” he asked, prompting me out of my study of his room, and I gave my attention to him.

He was across the room, standing in his pajamas but he had his tablet in his hand, and when I’d opened the door, he’d been sticking his headphones in it.

“Just wanted to bend your ear a second about something that’s troubling me,” I told him.

“What?” he asked.

I stepped in, shut the door and leaned into it. “What’s your read on Polly?”

His face went guarded.

“I’m not being—” I started to assure him quickly.

“She’s a phase,” he cut me off to say.

“I’m sorry?”

“For Pip. She’s not Pippa’s normal kind of friend. But Polly knows everybody. She’s real social. Big on that. And Pip coming to a new school, Polly latched on. Pip having money and nice clothes and being pretty and stuff…” he trailed off and shrugged, though he didn’t need to finish that, I knew what he was saying. Then he continued, “I think she’s a phase.”