Disaster Status (19 page)

Scott smiled. “Yes. I’ll tell you more after we order. You’re buying me a brownie too.”

She placed their order while he made a quick cell call to his family; then they continued their walk down the wharf. She couldn’t believe what he’d said.

“What changed your mind?” Erin asked after taking a bite of her macaroon. “You were really wary about counseling.”

He lowered his coffee container and waited a moment before he answered. “I’m not saying I’m convinced of the process overall. I still have serious concerns about side effects of psychological intervention in some cases.”

Erin saw a muscle tense along his jaw and knew he was thinking of his brother-in-law’s violent and tragic actions. Which may or may not have been spurred by his therapy. She drew a breath through her teeth.

“But Chuck tells me that your peer counseling made all the difference for Sandy. He’d been really worried about her. And I saw his face when she collapsed in the ER.” Scott shook his head. “I’ve worked with Chuck during incredibly tense rescue situations, watched him stay calm when most guys would choke. But . . .”

“He loves her.” Erin met Scott’s gaze, and her stomach quivered.

“Yes. He does.”

They walked on for a while in silence. Erin heard the distant bark of seals and realized they’d come to the end of the wharf, marked by benches, a few coin-operated viewing scopes, and a dizzying view of the marina with hundreds of masts bobbing silently in the black waters. Far away, lights dotted the outline of Monterey Bay. A foghorn sounded, long and low. The salty and damp breeze lifted her hair. She shivered.

“Cold?” he asked.

She crossed her arms, rubbing at the sleeves of her cotton sweater. “I’m okay. California girl—tease me with a little March sunshine, and I’ll leave my coat in the car every time.”

“Here.” Scott pulled off his jacket and insisted that she slide into it despite her weak protests.

It was fleeced-lined, prewarmed by his body, and smelled like . . . She chuckled.

“What?”

“Everything you have smells like a campfire.”

“Sorry. It was in my locker at the fire station along with my turnouts.” Scott pulled up the collar. “Is that better? You’re still shivering.”

Erin nodded, hoping to goodness he wouldn’t figure out that he was the cause of her shivers. His closeness, his eyes, and the way she was starting to feel despite all common sense.
Lord, make me strong.
“I’m fine now.”

“Good,” he said, letting his hands drop away. “Cody would have my hide if I let anything happen to you. He told me you’re very cool.”

“Oh, all the guys say that when I talk about mackerel.” She took a sip of her coffee and set the cup back on the railing next to his. “He’s having his MRI tomorrow, isn’t he?”

“Yes, in the afternoon.” Scott sighed. “My stepdad’s treadmill in the morning, Cody’s exam in the afternoon. Mom will wear her knees out praying.”

Erin thought of Lynda Wells’s tearful and loving expression when she’d seen her husband in the ER this morning. How her fingers moved to the small cross at her collar.
A woman
who prays.
But what about Scott? Her curiosity got the better of her. “You mentioned before that you sing with your church’s worship team?”

Scott glanced away. “Not anymore.”

Don’t sing, or don’t go there?
Erin told herself not to ask, not to push.

“I haven’t been to church since Colleen’s funeral. I can’t sit there . . . after what happened.” He winced. “And seeing Cody go through everything that he’s going through—it shouldn’t have been this way.”

Erin nodded, her heart going out to him. His pain was apparent, still raw. He’d lost his father so young and grew into a man focused on fixing, protecting, and rescuing. Then things had swung so far beyond his control. She took a step closer and touched his arm. “Sometimes, for me, even praying all alone can—”

“I don’t,” he said, cutting her off. “I don’t pray anymore. I can’t talk to God. I don’t expect him to listen.” His expression held no criticism for her offering, only a gut-wrenching honesty. “The only thing that’s helped is my work. And swimming. That’s all.” He brushed the back of his hand very gently along her cheek. “Until now. Until . . . you.”

Erin’s heart climbed into her throat, and the shivers returned. “Me?”

Scott smiled. “Yes. I don’t know how you do it, but you do. Even that first day at the hospital when you tried to bully your way past me.”

“Bully my way?” she said, trying to find an ounce of indignation. And failing utterly.

“That’s right. You and your grandmother both. Now there’s a team.”

“Hey, now—”

“And then you threatened me with a tetanus shot, took over my town meeting, and . . .”

Erin grimaced. “This is not sounding good for me.”

His smile broadened. “I know. I keep thinking that too. If I listed it all out on a spreadsheet—and I’ve thought about doing that—it would sound like you’re the most aggravating woman I’ve ever met. But the fact is . . .” He stopped, and the look in his eyes made her stomach quiver.

“What’s the fact, McKenna?”

“Since I’ve met you, I’ve felt better than I have in a long time.” Scott’s voice dropped to a whisper, and he moved close again. Close enough that she could feel his breath on her face. “I’m not sure why that is, but I like it. Even if you could probably nail me with a right hook.”

“Definitely could.”

“So warned.” He chuckled low in his throat, then lifted a strand of hair away from her face. “Even so, I’d like to see you again. Is that all right?”

Oh yes.
Erin nodded or hoped she did. It was hard to tell with her heart pummeling her ears.

“Great. And . . . there’s one other thing I’d like. Right now.”

She wasn’t sure how to handle another thing with her knees giving way. “What?”

“I want to kiss you.”

“Oh.”

Scott tucked his fingers under her chin, stooped down, and hesitated, his lips mere inches away. “It’s okay?”

“Of course.”

He touched his lips to her forehead. “Just checking. Right hook. Been warned.”

“Good point.” She grinned, her skin tingling. “Permission granted, Captain.”

Scott kissed her cheek, moved on to the corner of her mouth, then touched his lips to hers. They were soft, gentle . . . and tasted wonderfully like warm chocolate. He leaned away and sighed. Then drew her closer and kissed her again, longer this time and more deeply.

She slid her arms around his neck, sweetly dizzy, and returned his kiss.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Scrambled egg whites and turkey bacon?” Nana’s voice carried out through the patio door. “Or are you going to blend one of those protein shakes?”

“Mmm . . . how ’bout pancakes?” Erin leaned back against the garden bench, her mind still tumbling memories that had kept her awake half the night. Scents of citrus and smoke, the feel of Scott’s arms, the brush of his beard growth, the soft texture of his hair under her fingers . . . those incredible kisses. His caring heart. She wanted to hold on to it all, feel optimistic for once.
Please, Lord, let me have this a little longer.
Even if only for this morning.

“Pancakes? Did I hear that right?”

Erin cupped her hands around her mouth. “Yes. Oatmeal pancakes, with chopped pecans and real maple syrup. I could cut up those strawberries, and—”

Her grandmother appeared in the doorway, striped dish towel in hand. “Do we need to check your temperature?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” She drew her knees up, hugged her arms around her baggy plaid pajama bottoms, unable to smother a smile her grandmother would undoubtedly call dreamy. “Can’t someone want pancakes without . . . ? Can’t I hide anything from you?”

“Never. Though I hesitate to question anything that quiets your punching bag. Or keeps you from scrubbing the shower and filling our house with fumes. Praise God, that’s a blessing in itself.”

“Touché. I just wanted to come out here with my coffee, sit on your bench, and smell the ocean. You know.”

“I know.” She waved her dish towel. “Scoot over a smidge.”

Her grandmother joined her on the bench, closing her eyes for a few seconds and inhaling slowly. Erin had no doubt she was saying a prayer—it came as naturally as breathing to her. Nana opened her eyes. “I’m assuming this all means you had a good time with Scott and Cody.”

“We took him to watch the fishing boats, and apparently he thinks I’m cool.”

“I’m sure of it. And his uncle? He thinks you’re cool too?”

“Probably.” She saw her grandmother’s brows rise and laughed. “Okay, he does. Definitely. Of course, I’m already fighting doubts about trusting him.”

“But . . . ?” The sea breeze lifted a wavy tendril of her grandmother’s hair, and she searched Erin’s eyes with the loving concern Erin had counted on all her life.

“I want to believe Scott’s different. He seems that way. Real and sincere and caring.” She grimaced. “Even if he’s maddeningly quiet.”

Her grandmother smiled with obvious amusement.

“And I have to believe he’s devoted to his family. I don’t think you can fake that sort of thing. If they needed him, he’d be there. No matter what. They can count on him. I think that’s what I like best about Scott. I keep telling myself he’s not at all like . . .”

“Your father?”

She shrugged, deciding not to pursue the point. Her grandmother wasn’t going to give up hope for a family reconciliation. “And he sings—you can’t believe how well. Used to be part of his church worship team.” She remembered what he’d said about singing “Amazing Grace” for his sister. But then the doubts tiptoed back as she remembered the rest.
“I don’t pray anymore. I can’t talk to God. I don’t expect him to listen.”
She sighed. “Anyway, I’ve decided I like him and that I’ll go out with him again. Not sure how smart that was, considering my track record.”

“Well—” her grandmother slid an arm around her shoulders—“I’m proud of you.”

“For what?”

Her grandmother winked. “Lowering your boxing gloves a few inches. I’d call that progress, darling.”

“Hmm.” Erin rested her head against Nana’s shoulder, and for a fleeting moment she felt six years old. Safe. Loved. Certain of everything. “Here’s hoping it doesn’t end up being called down for the count.”

Her grandmother patted her hand. “Pancakes?”

“Absolutely,” Erin said, unable to stop last night’s warm memories from swirling back again. Still tempered by a smidgen of doubt. “But I’ll add a tablespoon of protein powder.”

+++

Scott dragged a palm powerfully through the dark water, stretching his other arm forward and kicking hard. His body rose and fell on the building waves as he swam parallel to the shoreline below Arlo’s Bait & Moor. He hadn’t missed that much training, but the ocean already seemed strangely unfamiliar.

Scott stilled his movement, blinked against the sting of salt, and scanned the shore. Same empty shore, same early morning fog. No reason that this swim should feel any different from the hundreds he’d done before, except . . . for Erin.

He shook his head as he bobbed up and down, not at all surprised by the warmth that flooded through him. The difference in the way things felt today was because of her. She was the reason he’d lain awake hours last night too. Remembering her laughing with Cody, the look on her face when she held that karaoke microphone . . . the way she’d kissed him.
Ah, man.
His mouth dipped below the sea’s cold surface and he sputtered, kicking his legs to rise higher in the water before it was over his head
.
He groaned at the thought.
In over my head.

It was another reason he’d lost sleep last night: Did he know what he was doing? Did it even make sense to start having feelings for Erin when things were so unsettled, when he was trying so hard to move on with his career . . . his life? Though Portland was likely out of the equation, he still planned to take a position outside of Pacific Point. The timing was wrong for a relationship. But Erin was special, different from anyone he’d known. Fiercely protective of her grandmother, strong despite the heartache she’d endured with her father, generous, committed to her career . . . and to her faith
.

Scott sputtered again and started to swim, remembering what she’d said about prayer. How it helped her. He’d been honest when he said he didn’t pray anymore, that he didn’t expect God to listen. But he hadn’t told her why
. . . that maybe I let my family down. And Cody deserves more than a man
like me.
His issues with God would complicate things between them, but even still, being with Erin made him feel better. Like she accepted him for who he was. Not because he was Gabe McKenna’s son or Colleen’s brother . . . and even if he didn’t reach all the career goals he’d been striving for. It felt like she could care for him, just for himself. He needed that. So even though the timing wasn’t completely right, even if they had to work around the faith issues, and even if they had to deal with some geographical distance, it still seemed worth the risk to—

He stopped swimming and treaded water, scanning the misty beach. He’d heard something, and . . .
yes.
He waved one arm over his head and shouted, “Erin!”

+++

Erin watched, heart in her throat, as Scott jogged through the foam and across the stretch of wet sand toward where she stood beside his mound of gear. His grin answered the question she’d wrestled with while walking from the beach house.
He’s glad I’m here.
She picked up his towel and held it out as he got closer. Black wet suit across broad shoulders, blond hair standing up in wet clumps, eyes meeting hers . . . When he stopped in front of her, the towel slipped from her fingers, forgotten.

“Hi,” he said, voice low and breathless after the run. “I was thinking about you.”

“You were swimming.”

“I multitask.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Her heart quickened as he pulled her gently to him. “You probably have a book on it.”

His strong arms encircled her, impossibly warm through the spongy and sea-soaked neoprene. “You were nowhere in my books. But I’m beginning to think that could be a good thing.”

“Oh? Want to know what I think?”

Scott leaned back and tucked a finger under her chin. “No.”

“No?”

“Right now, I only want to kiss you.” He pressed his lips—gentle, warm, and salty—against hers. “There. Now I can concentrate. What were you thinking?”

Erin glanced up at the cliff. “That Arlo and Annie are watching.”

+++

Sarge frowned. The boy’s MRI was scheduled for 3 p.m. He’d have to think of a way to hang around the radiology department for a while, since Lupe’s shift would technically be over. And it cut into the sleep he needed to get before his night shift tonight. But it didn’t matter; he could barely close his eyes now without hearing the missiles overhead, smelling the burning oil. Seeing the children’s faces. Remembering how he stood there in the sand, looking down at them as the words tore free, half prayer, half howl:
“Father God, not the children . . . not the children.”

Sarge peered down the pediatrics corridor toward the boy’s room. Strange to be here during the daylight and without hiding. Although, in truth, he was. From Cody. Taking part of Lupe’s shift gave him a legitimate reason to be here, but he’d had to watch the boy from a distance. Safer that way. Cody might call him Rich in front of the nurses, mention his being here during the night, or . . . Sarge’s jaw tightened.
See me the way everyone else does?
Crippled, emptying trash, and pushing a mop. His chest constricted at the memory of the boy’s words.
“You’re here to keep me safe . . . like some kind of superhero . . . like Batman.”

He glanced toward the housekeeping closet, thinking of his stash in the old vacuum bag. The beef jerky, his mission journals, and—the grim irony struck him:
Batman
—the aluminum bat. There for a reason. No one was taking the boy away. Or cutting off his leg. He’d save him, the way he wished he’d saved those children in the desert.

The MRI was at three. Then he’d know what he had to do.

+++

Iris laughed as the little dog yodeled for Hugh’s sandwich crust. She watched Jonah enjoy his reward, glad Hugh had found her in the Little Mercies Gift Shop and asked her to join them for lunch. “Gary’s been discharged, then?”

“Yes.” Hugh smiled and his silver mustache stretched. “Good news about his heart. But apparently the doctor really laid down the law about the diabetes and blood pressure. And all the stress he’s been under.”

Iris nodded. “I can imagine. The economy must be affecting electricians too.”

“It is. Although I suspect Cody’s situation has provided the majority of Gary’s stress. It’s not easy being a full-time parent at sixty years old. That’s part of the reason I’m still here. The doctor told Lynda to take him home and stay there, so I’m waiting with Cody during the MRI.”

“That’s right. It’s today.” Her heart tugged. “He’s been in my prayers. I don’t think I’ve ever met a sweeter or braver boy. I’m glad you and Scott will be there for him.”

Hugh cleared his throat, disappointment coming into his expression. “Scott’s gone to follow up on a few of his job applications; he said he’d be driving to Monterey and then on to San Jose. He promised Cody he’d be back in time. But you never know with traffic. Moving forward with his career has become more important than . . . anything.”

Iris remembered Erin’s words this morning about Scott’s devotion to his family:
“If they needed him, he’d be there. No matter what.”
She’d said it was what she liked best about him.

“I may have mentioned it before,” Hugh continued, “but I’m concerned that Scotty’s pulling away from the family. Until the accident, I don’t believe he’d have agreed to move from Pacific Point. He and Cody were inseparable. Now all he can think about is finding a new job. If you’ll pardon the pun, my grandson suddenly seems far more intent on climbing the ladder in his firefighting career. I’m afraid he inherited more of his father’s ambition than I realized. And maybe some of his foolish grandfather’s.”

“You’re talking about yourself?”

Hugh nodded. “I hate to admit how much time I spent away from home when my son Gabe was a boy. At sea, attending academic conferences, and even holed up in my university office a few miles away. But still . . . away. From my wife and my family. I wasn’t the best example.”

Iris winced, wondering again about her effect on her granddaughter’s life. Erin’s stubborn need to be strong above all else, her hesitancy to trust . . . and to forgive. Could Iris have prevented that?

“Sometimes I wonder,” Hugh said, stroking Jonah’s head. “If I’d asked the good Lord to help me get my priorities straight earlier, then passed those good values on to my son, if it could have changed things that day.”

“What day?”

“The day everything began sliding downhill for my family. Gabe volunteered for an extra shift the Saturday he was killed; he wanted to catch the chief’s eye for a promotion. He should have been home. It was Scotty’s birthday.”

+++

“I am. I am listening.” Erin propped the stained-glass window hanging against the garden bench and pressed her cell phone to her ear. Her mind raced ahead, formulating responses. Boxing against her sister’s tentative pleas.
Lord, help me stay strong.
The family was ganging up. Big-time.