When Shadows Fall (9 page)

Chapter Seven

Olivia spent the rest of Sunday night reading Molly's journals. Mellowed by the wine and pizza, not to mention distracting thoughts of Colton, she'd had a little trouble getting back into the books, but thankfully Molly's story got more interesting as she went along.

After Molly's parents died, Molly was sent to live with her aunt in Bakersfield, California. According to Molly, her aunt was a cold, bitter woman who didn't care much for her but took her in out of a sense of responsibility. Molly couldn't wait until she was old enough to move out. She hated her new life and wished longingly for the good old days, a feeling Olivia could definitely relate to. But like Olivia, Molly had to accept that the past was done and she could only move forward.

Molly didn't have any money, so she had no opportunity to go to college. She took some classes in typing and stenography and went to work as a secretary at an insurance company. After a year she was able to move out of her aunt's house and left Bakersfield to take a new job in San Francisco.

Molly liked being in the city. It felt like a fresh start, but she had trouble making friends, and while surrounded by people, she often felt lonely. She was naturally shy and had trouble reaching out to strangers, so she spent a lot of time reading and daydreaming about a life filled with adventures that she would probably never have.

But eventually Molly met someone, a dashing, handsome man named Stanley Harper. He told her he was going to take care of her, and she thought finally she was going to be happy again.

Molly didn't write anything more for a couple of years, finally making another entry the night her son was born.

Peter was born at ten minutes past eight. Stan had hoped to be with me for the birth, but he was stuck at work, and he didn't get here until Peter was two hours old. But when I look at Peter, nothing else matters. I feel only love. Being a mother is what I was meant to do. I have a beautiful son now. I have a family again. I just hope I don't screw it up.

There was another big jump in time—almost five years before the next entry.

"It's getting harder to come here and write. My life is so busy now. I have a little girl. Her name is Francine. I can already tell that she's going to be a handful. She cries at every little thing. The noise drives Stan crazy, but she's a baby with a big set of lungs, so what can I do? And I like that she's shaking things up. In a strange way, I feel like Francine is making me stronger. I think maybe she'll bring the light back.

Olivia flipped the page. The next one was blank. She skimmed through the rest of the journal—nothing.

Then she dug through the box, wondering if she'd missed another book. Surely Molly wouldn't leave her hanging like this?

There was a photo album and some trinkets in the box that didn't mean anything to her, but there weren't any more journals.

She sat back on the bed, pondering the contents of the box Molly had left for her. Molly hadn't planned on getting sick, so maybe she'd still been in the process of gathering things together. Because why would Molly give her a bunch of journals that didn't really say that much? Sure, it was nice to feel like she knew Molly better, or at the least the young Molly, but there was no mention of Eleanor Callaway or the theater group or anyone else from the senior center.

There simply had to be more. The last two entries had hinted at something—she just didn't know what, but there had definitely been an undertone to her words. It was as if Molly was waiting for something bad to happen.

Maybe that feeling of uncertainty came from the way she'd suddenly been orphaned. Perhaps being a mother and having the children she wanted had made her fear that it would all get taken away somehow.

Olivia could understand that. Love could be really painful when it was followed by loss.

Still, she was frustrated with the abrupt ending. She stretched her arms over her head and yawned. It was almost eleven o'clock at night. She might as well go to bed. But while she was tired, she didn't feel all that sleepy. She would have to wait until tomorrow to get more information on Molly and her friends, but right now her mind was going in another direction…

On impulse she grabbed her laptop and opened the search engine, then typed in the name Colton Callaway. She was curious about him, and maybe she was acting a little like a stalker, but she wanted to know more about him and his family.

He didn't appear to be on social media, but there were a few articles that came up with his name. She clicked on the first one from a San Francisco weekly magazine. The headline read:
Another Callaway joins the San Francisco Fire Department.
Standing behind Colton were nine strong, handsome men, most of whom were wearing fire department dress uniforms, and one lone blonde woman.

She read through the list of names, noting Patrick Callaway was retired Chief of Department, Jack Callaway currently Deputy Chief of Operations, Tim Callaway retired firefighter, Burke Callaway Battalion Chief, Aiden Callaway, retired smoke jumper, Dylan Callaway and Brody Callaway firefighters and Emma Callaway fire investigator. She assumed that Emma was Colton's sister and the others were brothers or cousins. But whatever the relationship, it was an impressive group.

All of them stood tall and proud as they welcomed Colton into the fold. He certainly did have a legacy to live up to, she thought. That had to put a lot of pressure on him. But with his chin tilted in the air, and a fierce light in his blue eyes, he seemed more than up to the task.

She found herself liking him even more.

She closed her computer and decided to go to bed. But even after she'd turned off the Internet and the bedroom light, she couldn't shut down her brain.

As she drifted into sleep, her dreams were filled with Colton—as they did all kinds of really sexy and reckless things together…

* * *

Colton didn't sleep at all. His fingers hurt when he got in the wrong position. He couldn't seem to get comfortable no matter which way he turned, and he couldn't stop thinking about his grandfather's demands, his grandmother's secrets and Olivia's beautiful green eyes.

He got up around seven and did his usual run along the Embarcadero, but instead of pushing four miles, he stopped after two, grabbed a coffee, a pastry and walked back to his apartment. He lived in a one-bedroom apartment on the fourth floor of an eight-story apartment building on one of North Beach's steepest hills, and he really liked the area. Being on a hill he had a great view of the bay, especially from the rooftop deck, and when he left his apartment he was very close to great restaurants, bars and comedy clubs as well as one of his favorite gyms.

The neighborhood was a mix of people, but there were plenty of young singles and there was always something to do. Most of all, he liked living alone. The past three months had been heaven. After growing up in the chaotic Callaway household, he'd moved into an apartment with three other guys that had felt like he was living in a frat house. And when he wasn't there, he was at the firehouse, which could also sometimes feel like a frat house. So he'd moved out and grabbed a small one-bedroom apartment that was perfect for him. He just needed to find a little time to buy some furniture and decorate.

After arriving back at his apartment, he showered, dressed and then headed across town to his grandparents' house. He got there a little before eleven, just in time to see his grandfather loading a suitcase into the back of a taxi.

"Good, you're here," Patrick said tersely. "I'm counting on you, Colton. Don't let me down."

"I'll do my best."

"I told you before I don't want your best, I want success. Don't forget that."

He couldn't forget it if he tried. One of his grandfather's favorite sayings was not to try but to succeed. He'd liked the philosophy up until now, when it appeared that a good try might be the best result he could get. But he wasn't going to argue with his grandfather about effort. He had another question to ask. "Is there any reason besides your concern about Grandma's health that is driving your desire to shut down conversation between Grandma and the writer?"

"Her health is everything," Patrick said flatly. "What more is there at this point?"

He had no answer for that question. And if Patrick did have another reason, he certainly wasn't going to share it with him.

"I'll see you in a few days," Patrick said.

Colton nodded, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he watched his grandfather get into the cab. Then he walked up to the front door and rang the bell. A nurse let him in a few minutes later and waved him toward the kitchen.

He found his grandmother sipping a mug of tea at the small oak table in the kitchen. She was working a crossword puzzle, one of her favorite things to do.

She gave him a warm smile. "Colton, what a lovely surprise."

He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then sat down in the chair across from her. He looked at her partially filled-in puzzle. "Looks like you're making progress on that."

"Actually, I'm a bit stumped. I've been working on it since yesterday, and I'm a little frustrated. It's a good thing you came, because I'm trying not to cheat by looking at the answers."

He smiled at her candor. "You have always had a lot of willpower when it comes to those puzzles."

"Well, they're supposed to be good for my mind, so I try to keep working them even when I start to feel stupid."

"Besides feeling stupid, how are you today?" he asked lightly.

"I'm fine." She gave him a speculative look. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't I come and visit my grandmother without an ulterior motive?"

"Of course you can, but you rarely do, and that's okay. You're a busy man, and you have your own life. But you'll have to forgive me for thinking you might have another reason."

"Well, I'm not that busy this week," he said, holding up his hand. He'd redone the tape after taking a shower, and while he'd hoped to see more definite improvement, his fingers were still swollen around the knuckles.

"Is it painful?"

"It's not too bad, but I'm going to have to miss some work."

"They're not going to make you sit at a desk, go on school visits or check out fire alarms? Your grandfather used to hate light duty. I told him he should just try to enjoy it, but he couldn't. He hated to hear the alarm go off and not be able to do his job."

Something he had in common with his grandfather. "I'm sure that light duty is in my future, but with the concussion that I suffered, there's a mandatory five-day wait after diagnosis before I can do anything. I'm on day three, and I'm already restless."

"Do you want some tea or something to eat? I could have Donna make you some food. She's very good in the kitchen."

"No thanks. I was thinking since I have free time today that maybe you and I could take a ride somewhere. We could go to the beach or out to lunch later, whatever you want."

"That's a lovely and generous offer, Colton, but I'm going to the senior center. In fact, your mother should be here soon to give me a ride."

"You wouldn't want to skip it today? It might be nice for you to have a change of scenery. You go there all the time."

"To see my friends," Eleanor said pointedly. "Friends are important, Colton. When you're young, you get busy and life gets in the way, but later you cherish those relationships."

He could see the determination in his grandmother's eyes and felt caught between a rock and a hard place. How on earth was he going to do what his grandfather wanted?

Maybe as he'd told Olivia the night before, it was better to be direct and not play games. He clasped his hands together on the tabletop. "Grandma, I need to talk to you about something."

"The real reason you're here?" she asked dryly.

"I never could fool you."

"So why try?"

"Grandpa asked me to look out for you while he's gone. He's concerned that you'll get tired or upset if you spend too much time talking about the past with that writer Molly invited to town."

The sparkle in her grandmother's eyes faded a bit. "Patrick already spoke to me about that, and I'll tell you, as I told him, that I'm perfectly capable of having a conversation about the past without getting upset in any way. There's really no need for you to babysit me. And frankly, Colton, I'm a little surprised that you would support your grandfather on this. I'm in my eighties. Haven't I earned the right to speak to whomever I want to?"

"Yes," he said. "Of course. I think Grandpa is only acting out of concern for your health."

"I feel good today. Who knows how I'll feel tomorrow? But with my disease, I can only live in the moment."

He nodded, hearing the doorbell ring. The nurse went to answer it, and a moment later his mother Lynda walked into the room. She also looked surprised to see him there.

"Colton?"

"Mom."

"Is something going on?" Lynda asked, her glance darting from him to Eleanor and then back to him again.

"Just checking in on Grandma," he said. "I'm kind of at loose ends today."

"You never did like to be idle," Lynda said with a knowing smile. "But some days you just have to relax."

"Colton will come with us today," Eleanor said briskly.

"To the senior center?" Lynda asked with a raised eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes," he said, deciding if he couldn't beat them, he'd join them.

Her gaze narrowed speculatively. "Is this about the book?"

"Grandpa—"

"Asked you to ignore your grandmother's wishes," Lynda finished. She turned to Eleanor, shaking her head in disgust. "You know I love Patrick, but he can be so overbearing sometimes."

"He certainly can," Eleanor agreed. "But since I know Colton doesn't want to disappoint Patrick, the only solution is for Colton to come with us." She gave him a pointed look. "Then you'll be able to see that I am just fine."

"Great," he muttered, knowing his first instinct had been right. There was no way he would be able to change their minds. All he could do was go along for the ride. "Can I ask one question?"