Let It Burn (5 page)

“Did you hear Pop’s renting the cottage again?” Gigi was saying as she gathered her things to head out.

“No, I haven’t talked to Pop all week. Thought he might finally sell the place.”

“We all know Pop wants to keep that place in the family,” Gigi threw a long arm around me in a hug as she stepped into the hall, “maybe one day one of us will see the charm he obviously does. Thanks for lunch; I have a class in a little bit. See you soon, I’m sure, Cage. Love you!”

“Be careful, Gigi. Love you too.” With a wave of her hand, she bounded down the steps and I closed the door behind her.

It was still early and I was curious about the cottage now, but not up for a conversation with Pop. It was strange my mother hadn’t mentioned him renting it out again earlier when we talked. Then again that talk was all about guilting me for my man whoring ways and I knew it.

Also I thought perhaps she knew how much Pop loved the place and hated that none of us got as excited about it as he did. Mom loved the cottage too but with four kids of their own and plenty more cast offs from the fire houses, it had proven too small. It was at least a century old and we called it a cottage because it looked completely out of place in downtown Chicago.

Just blocks from my station and the Washington library, it had been the first place Pop had purchased for Mom. In the middle of towering condos, glass and steel storefronts and modern office structures, the gray brick peaked roof house was an eye catcher. Looking more like it belonged atop a hill with a sprawling garden and forest nearby, it had character.

It was just three bedrooms with a wood fire chimney that let off gray puffs of smoke and a low white picket fence. I had always joked with Pop that it looked like a Thomas Kincaid painting in the winter. Which was exactly why it had been their first home; my parents were nothing if not traditional. Even the larger home on the outskirts of the city they had moved to could attest to that.

When the family started to grow, and Mom couldn’t say no to one of Pop’s guys who were on the outs with their wife or other family, Pop had to trade up. After saving every penny and busting his ass, he moved us to Itasca. He built a rambling Colonial style home near Lake Kadjah. Still, he held on to the cottage and from time to time, rented it out.

Each of us had lived in it at one time or another. Regan got married soon after college and Tegan had gone away for college. I think Pop just loved the place too much to let it go. Renting it out could be a handful. With me close to it now, I suspected looking over the place and his new tenant would likely be my job.

Pop was old enough to retire but nowhere near ready to just yet. He loved the job, and loved his men. I thought maybe one day I’d make him as proud as they did. When I had announced I was volunteering right after graduation, and forgoing a four-year college right away, Mom was irate. Didn’t want another one of us to live the life.

I think it was one of the first times I knew I’d really made Pop happy, though. That was enough for me to stick with it. Soon enough I decided to go back to school. I knew this was the life for me. More than making Pop proud, or hoping to follow in his shadow somehow, I loved the job. I was almost done with my degree and finally both my parents were okay with my career choice.

Now if I could just figure out the other important shit, I’d be all set. Thinking about that list of Gigi’s, the rating scale, I decided it was time to stop fucking around. Though I loved hanging out with my sisters, or Finn at one of the dive bars we circulated, I wanted more.

Mr. Belvedere was not much for conversation. Take out and Doctor Who marathons with my baby sister didn’t exactly fulfill my nights. Neither did the Daisy Buchanan’s or Anastasia Steel’s I wasted time fucking. With a smirk, I patted my limp cock and made a quiet threat.
No more one’s or twos; no more Daisy or Anastasia, pal
. From now on, I was waiting for my ten, or at least an eight. Lizzie or Katniss. I could deal with a Katniss.

Where one might find someone with the qualities an eight or ten might have, in the middle of Chicago, was beyond me. Cuing up Netflix, I took Gigi’s advice. I barely had the patience to get through the texts I had to pour over for class. Let alone time to read through the heavy novels Gigi’s rating scale chicks were in.

Instead, I’d take the cliffs notes versions. I had time to watch a few movies starring her heroines. Decide if her rating scale held any water. See if I could get out of my own way and find her. The girl who I didn’t want to sneak out on before dawn broke. Who I could bring home and introduce to Mr. Belvedere. To my sisters, my mom and pop. Bonus, I knew for a fact both Katniss and Anna were smoking hot so it couldn’t be all bad.

First up: 50 Shades of Grey. Mr. Belvedere settled himself down on my chest, spun in a circle and sat back to learn too.

This was it. Where it all went to shit. I just knew it, because there was no way this could all really be happening. I stood on the sidewalk, the air chilly but not enough for me to need the jacket I was wearing. It was early September and back home the trees would be bare and the wind unforgiving. It was crisp and clear here still, though there was a bite in the air.

I was waiting for Sara and her friend Deacon Cooper to meet me. In front of me was the cutest, most perfect little cottage I had ever seen. It absolutely did not belong on this block in the middle of Chicago. There were storefronts for everything from a cannoli shop that made me mildly homesick to a rugged tattoo parlor. There had to be something wrong with it or the neighborhood turned into a war zone once night fell. I just knew it.

Things like this did not happen to me. I could not have written a better story line if I had tried. I had, in fact tried. Once upon a time, writing had been my dream. I didn’t need to leave my home town to do it but that had always been the second dream. Get out and experience the world and come back with something to write about.

Instead I let Tucker put a ring on my finger, let my family lock me into my mom’s dream and hadn’t put pen to paper since. Or typeset to computer monitor as it were. I loved my mom’s bakery and had always liked helping out there. It had never been my dream though, and she knew that.

“Some of us create one way, some another. Your talent is how you create something without limit. You can sit with a pen and pad and draw up with words places and people that will stir people once you share it. Just got to get to the sharing part, Cupcake.” All wise words, spoken by my very wise mother. Which one day, was the plan.

For now, I was happy with my shiny new office at the library. I just slid a name plate with my name onto the door, making it real. After I had carried my things in, Sara had taken me on a much more extended tour then out to lunch. Now we were to meet at the cottage Deacon was thinking of renting out. Which was why I was standing on a busy Chicago sidewalk, peering up at the perfect house.

Waiting for something bad to happen. I wasn’t sure what. Maybe the place would go up in flames before my eyes. Or a shady character would come out of the shadows and let me know I was not welcome here and to vamoose. Worse still, they could show, show me the place and it could be perfect. That would be terrible.

From the outside looking it, the cottage could literally not be more perfect. It was a small stone structure, with a brick chimney that promised a warm hearth inside, and settled back from the street. Between two taller brick brownstones, it was absolutely out of place. It had steeped roofs and a small porch with a swing and a wide oak door leading inside.

The back yard seemed to spread out beyond the rose trellis. I could just imagine a cute garden with a bistro table waiting. It looked to be two stories, with colonial windows face out towards the street. With a low picket fence with thatches of rose bushes weaving through them, it looked down right picturesque. From my perch out on the street, it was perfect and I knew I was going to love whatever the inside held.

Loving it would make this all the more real. The job being real had been like a shot of vodka to my senses. Leaving me intoxicated with the possibility of what life could be like here. Now this place looked like something that belonged on the cover of one of the harlequin romances my mother used to let me read. It might be too much.

Because if I liked it and moved in, then I was really doing this. Relocating a million miles away from home. Really less than five hundred miles, but it felt like more. The shop would stay closed. The boys would have to sell our parent’s place and the farm. This would be a brand new chapter of my life and I wanted it so bad I could taste it.

“Oh pet,” Sara’s lilt boomed from beside me, “sorry we’re late. Deacon is a busy man.”

“I apologize. Nice to meet you, Deacon Cooper.” Blinking from my reverie, I spun to greet them.

“Nice to meet you, sir. Charli Dixon.” Still blinking because he
looked
like a fire marshal I took his hand. 

Towering over both of us, he was handsome. Dark hair, grayed at the temples and peppered throughout, he had an imposing presence. Wide shoulders, a sharp jaw and lovely tawny skin with piercing hazel eyes, his large hand took mine. A quick smile flashed a dimple and I did not miss Sara’s answering smirk.

Straightening my shoulders, I shook his hand and smiled back. Had to make a good impression. I knew little of him yet; Sara said he was a devoted family man and the home had been his honeymoon home. With a few daughters and I think a son, they had outgrown it.

“Pleasure. Shall we, Charli?”

“Absolutely, sir.” I dipped my head and he turned from opening the gate.

“Please, just Deacon. Sara has spoken very highly of you the past few months. I think she’s had her eye on this place for you for a while.” Sara came up beside me, hooking her arm through mine.

“Just got a feeling she’s a keeper. You know me and my feelings, Deacon.” My smile felt huge on my face but I couldn’t help it.

“I do know those, Sara. Well let’s take the tour, see if it suits you.”

I knew it suited me already. Besides being literally picture perfect, it was exactly ten blocks from the library. I might not even need the truck if I made this my home. On my walk over, I had scoped the lay of the land; a Whole Foods was a few blocks away, a quirky looking laundromat and plenty of take-out places and bars for me to socialize at. If I ever felt the need to, which was not exactly a high priority for me.

The house itself had more than enough space for me. After we toured the three bedrooms, large living room with the cutest fireplace that reminded me of home, and huge kitchen, I knew it was too good to be true.

“Rent has to be way out of my range. It’s the cutest place I have ever seen, with room enough for a library and office and I can walk to work. Neighborhood doesn’t seem like it erupts into a war zone. I saw no shadow figures waiting to warn me off.” I said this all aloud and Sara and Deacon exchanged a look.

“What is your range, Charli?” My eyes narrowed as I watched them exchange a much different looks.

“A thousand, maybe a little more. I expected to have to give a kidney and maybe moonlight as a hired gun to afford a place in this city.” My laugh was dry and got stuck in my throat.

“Done. A thousand. Will you have much to move in?” I blinked again at Deacon, certain I had heard him wrong.

“Back it up a second, sir. Deacon. Did you just say it’s in my range? No, I have literally nothing yet to move in. I mean my clothes, my books of course. The necessities. Rent though. I mean...I...do I owe you the kidney?” My eyes swung between the two, somehow feeling like I was missing something.

“Oh pet.” Sara laughed and came to hook her arm through mine again.

Then they were talking about what I would need and Deacon was stating he could have the place furnished in a few days if that was okay. Still waiting for the catch to come, I listened quietly as they talked, Sara leading most the conversation.

Suddenly I was signing a rental agreement and Deacon was telling me where to drop rent off. That if I needed something fixed, his son was always close by. That same son could help me move anything if I needed.

Then Sara was telling me how great his son was, a fire fighter too but still I was waiting. Something more was to come. I’d be rooming with someone. Or putting up with some strange clause. I read over the rental agreement repeatedly. Found nothing out of the ordinary. I watched them warily before Deacon set a pair of keys in my hand.

“Charli,” Deacon laughed gently, the sound musical to my ears, “good things happen sometimes. To the right people. I learned a little about you through Sara. Who is an expert in research so don’t believe you didn’t have that job and this place before you even set foot in Chicago. Her feeling is the same I have. You are good people; from the sounds of it, it's time you get the good stuff other people were keeping you from. Let me know when you’re ready to move in, I’ll have Cage get the place painted and have Regan furnish it for you.” Handsome
and
a seemingly good guy.

“Thank you si--Deacon. I can’t...I mean I can’t really tell you how huge this is for me. I thought it would be months before I found a place. Let alone was able to furnish it. Figured it would be me and some cardboard boxes and pizza for a while. I... I know its business to you sir, but its life changing to me and... I’ll pay for the paint and help if you’d like. The furniture too of course.” I knew I was babbling and they both laughed as we headed out, Deacon placing a heavy hand at my back that reminded me of my father for some reason I couldn’t place.

“Charli. My wife and I love sweets. Sara says that you might be talented in that arena. Pay us in the unhealthiest way possible. I love donuts,” He laughed and patted his trim stomach, eyes twinkling, "Gwen loves cakes. I just hate to see the place empty; it’s a house meant to be lived in.” With a long wistful look at the cute cottage, he gave my back another pat and we shared a look.

I knew then how important the place had been to him. It had been his family’s home. The house I had left back home held the same fondness for my family, which was why I hated it now. Well, hate was a harsh word, really. It was painful to walk around a house full of memories.

The first time Cash brought his baseball team home after a big win. The camp outs Colton and I used to have in a tent in our back yard. My first prom, with Tucker of course, my mother and daddy going through two rolls of film. A time when my mother and daddy shared a long look across the kitchen before he swung her into his arms and danced to no music. Each room held endless memories and I couldn’t take it anymore.

It was overflowing with bittersweet memories. Of two different lives; one before tragedy changed the path of my life, and the life after. Neither of which were really ever what I wanted for my life. I had the choice taken away from me. This house, with so many memories for Deacon and his family, was different. It no doubt had bad memories but he could see only the good. In that look, I saw he wanted someone else to be able to build good memories here too. It was more than I could ask for and I was going to take it.

We said our goodbyes, with Deacon promising his son, Cage would arrange for painters before daughters Regan and Tegan furnished it. I assured him I would be ready to move in within the week. The sooner I could settle in, the sooner I could start believing this was really my reality. Really my life.

A path I had chosen and no one else could change for me. Also I hardly wanted to spend more time at the hooker hotel than I had to. Nightly moaning and thumping against my walls had grown old.

“Perfect match you an’ the place, I think.” Sara murmured as the stood on the sidewalk, peering up at the cottage.

“I think so too. I can’t...this is scary and amazing and I don’t know why things are falling into place for me. Just sort of waiting for something to ruin it. Kind of how things go for me, Sara.” Sara had arrived with Deacon so we were forced to walk back to the library.

This was fine with me. For one I needed the few blocks to let this all sink in. I had a job, one I was certain could not be more perfect. I now had a place to call mine. One that did not involve a kidney or any killing on my part. Soon I would be settled in to a brand new life.

As we walked past the lively neighborhood, full of diners and pubs and shops, I could barely contain my excitement. If something was going to ruin it, take this feeling of freedom and exhilaration away from me, it was going to do so with one hell of a fight from me. I wanted something for myself, wanted to be selfish for once in my god damned life. I no longer had to live for my family, for Tucker or anyone else. That life was over.

After a busy day of learning the routine with Sara, in between discussions about the new place, I was exhausted. I loved it though. Loved doing something that felt like me. Baking sweets, which had been my mother’s love and never mine, was exhausting in different way. An empty to-the-bones fatigue.

This exhaustion was from talking about books and life and aspirations. With people who knew nothing of my tragedies and didn’t have to pretend to care. It was fulfilling in a way nothing I had gotten to experience ever had been.

When I shoved into the hotel room that would be home just awhile longer, I was happy. Excited that the dingy four walls and tiny bathroom were no longer all I had to look forward to. Thrilled someone like Sara had found their way into my life. I loved to listen to her talk about the city and the library and her hopes for the kids who frequented it. Her heavy Irish brogue was melodic and warm.

Today she explained the after school programs she had championed that were finally finding purchase with some kids. Computer labs with courses on everything from creating resumes to detailed financial spreadsheets were offered, as well as language courses and even painting and creative writing classes.

“Now our focus is this mentoring program,” Sara was explaining a few days into my first week at Washington. “A chance for a few very different trades to talk with the kids, get them on the right path towards building something for themselves. We have a few mentors lined up, it all starts next week. Is it something you would be interested in overseeing?” Right away I knew I would absolutely be excited to be in charge of it.