Surge (St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders) Book 3: St. Martin Family Saga: Emergency Responders (8 page)

“She’s a lucky girl. For what it’s worth, I can tell you two are the real deal. Have you considered telling her family?”

He shrugged, “It’s complicated.”

“Still, your love for her is honest and pure. You shouldn’t have to lie about it.”

He moved to walk from the room. “Thanks again.”

What she’d said ate at his gut. Their love, even though pure, was surrounded by a web of deceit.

Chapter 8

Since Jackson needed
to wash his uniforms and Clara needed to study, they’d decided to leave the estate on Sunday evening.

“I want to tell Clay about us.” Jackson said.

“I know.”

“No, I mean next weekend, when we go to New Orleans. I want to tell him then.”

“But it’ll ruin everything.”

“Clara.” His grip on the steering wheel tightened. “We’ve told so many lies about our relationship I’ve lost track. And why should we be telling lies when our love for one another is absolute truth? We’re lying to your family.”

He heard a sniffle and looked over to her side of the car, but couldn’t see her eyes because her bangs had grown out too long. “Clara, look at me.” She turned and he pushed the hair out of her eyes. “Baby, why are you crying?”

“Because I don’t want our love to be cradled in a lie, but I don’t want my family to be mad at us.”

“They might be mad at first, but when they see how much we love each other that will negate their anger.” He tangled her hand in his. “It’s you and me together. We can do this. Okay?”

She nodded her assent. “Okay.”

A few minutes more down the road had him turning the car into the mall. It was five-thirty. If they hurried she could get her bangs trimmed.

“What are we doing here?”

“You need a haircut.”

“No I don’t. I like for my bangs to reach my eyes.”

“Well I don’t like it.”

“I don’t care.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“I’ll buy you a hot pretzel.”

She shook her head and kept her eyes forward.

“I’m not going to argue with you—”

“Then drop it and let’s get out of here.”

He sighed and put the car in reverse. They drove to their apartment in silence.

By the end of the night they were all in love again and he spooned her as she fell asleep in his arms. He knew she liked to hide behind her hair, but she needed to learn not to do that.

After he awoke the next morning he started the coffee pot. Then he got an idea. It was a horrible idea, but he thought it too good not to employ. While the coffee brewed he walked around the apartment gathering scissors, a comb, and a piece of cardboard. In the bedroom he found Clara sound asleep on her side. It was too perfect. He lightly combed her bangs, placing the cardboard underneath. He wouldn’t want her to wake suddenly and risk stabbing her with the scissors. Once he had the hair lined up he took the scissors in his grip. Holding his breath, he made the first cut. Then he followed the line across the length of her forehead. She had a ton of thick hair and he had to make several cuts. He pulled back to look at his work. He couldn’t tell if they’d be slightly crooked or if it was just the way her body was positioned in the bed.

He gathered up the cut hair from the bed as best he could without disturbing her. Lucky for his nuts she was a sound sleeper. Boy was she going to be hot when she woke to discover what he’d done. He went to the kitchen, disposed of the evidence, and set about his morning ritual of pouring them each a cup of coffee.

He held the smoking coffee cup under her nose and she slowly came around. When her eyes opened and pinned him in place he smiled. There she is. His girl with the powder-blue eyes. He needed to see them in all of their glory. They grounded him to the earth.

“Good morning, Bug.” She sat up and he was able to confirm that the haircut was a little crooked, but he thought it was cute.

“What are you smiling so much about?” She patted the sides of her hair down into place. “I must look crazy.”

“You’re perfect.” He kissed her nose and then went to take a shower.

≈

Clara woke slowly and opened the chest of drawers to put together an outfit for the day. Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror she thought something seemed off. No wonder Jackson had been laughing at her. She even started laughing at her image until she realized she’d been sabotaged.

“Jackson Reid Olivier!” She smoothed her palms against her bangs over and over, but it was no use. Her bangs would not lay straight and were as misshapen as a crookneck squash. “I’m just going to kill you!”

She stormed into the bathroom where she found him drying off. “Look what you’ve done to my hair.”

“What?”

“Don’t play innocent—you know what you’ve done.”

He kissed the top of her head as she pushed him away. “I think it’s very original. Come spring everyone will have that cut. Call it the Bug cut.”

“Jackson, the only one who thinks this is funny is you.”

He frowned. “That’s not really a fair assessment, you’ve only got a sample size of two people.”

She started rummaging through the cabinet beneath the bathroom sink, exasperated and whispering under her breath. She finally found what she was looking for and plugged it in. She slid the switch to on and the gadget produced a deep satisfying buzz in her hands. “Get in here now!”

From the door he watched nervously as she held the electric clippers in her grip. She pointed to the toilet seat. “Sit.”

“Now I think you should just calm down. You really are overreacting a bit, don’t you think?”

“You scalped my head while I was asleep!”

“It sounds bad, but I only did what I did out of love for you. You’re doing this”—he pointed to the clippers in her hand—“out of revenge.”

“It’s only fair and it’s the only way I will forgive you for what you’ve done.”

His lips tightened. “Fine, just don’t make my tail too poufy.” She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the image his words conjured up.

“I can’t believe you did this to me and then you didn’t even say you were sorry.”

“I’m not sorry. I need to see your bright eyes because they save me from penetrating darkness.”

His words gutted her. With his admission she knew she wouldn’t be able to shave a hair on his head. Still, there was no harm in him thinking she would, even if only for a few seconds. She scrunched the hair on top of his head together into a Mohawk pattern.

“I still have to treat patients you know.”

“And I have to attend work and school with this.” She pointed to her forehead.

She turned on the clippers and held his hair in her hands. “Ready?”

“Do your worst.”

She ran the blunt end across the top of his head and released her hand. She deliberately made her eyes large as she looked at him. He jumped up and looked in the mirror, running his fingers through his thick sandy hair. His laughter was explosive and bigger than she’d ever heard before.

Once he composed himself he reached for her and pulled her into his chest. “Bug.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry I got them crooked. Can you forgive me?”

“Forgiven. I’ll go by and get them evened up. It’ll be a funny story to tell Shelly while she cuts my hair.”

He placed his hands on her jaw, kissing her lips. “Can I meet you for lunch today at the restaurant?”

“I’d love that. What time?”

“One.”

“You want chicken piccata? It’s the special today.”

“My favorite.”

“Everything’s your favorite.” She smiled. “I’ll have it ready for you at one.”

He squeezed her tight. “I more than love you.”

“And I love you more than you love me.” She ran her fingers through her bangs.

He crossed his hands over his heart. “That hurts.”

≈

At work she stocked the case with various Italian cheeses and made up cards for each one. She’d found some clips situated on a stand at the local dollar store that would be perfect for displaying the cards she’d printed.

She laid out the cheeses as if the case was a map of the Mediterranean. It didn’t work very well because she needed more east and west than north and south and the case was set up in the opposite way, but in her mind she knew where everything would be as represented by its geographical location. Her little clips worked nicely except for being purple. She’d thought of painting them black, but since they were in with the cheeses she didn’t think it would be a good idea given the fumes.

Before she went to work she stopped by Shelly’s Hair Salon and got her bangs straightened out. It took off quite a bit of length and now she sported a trendy hipster haircut with short geometrical bangs. She was so tired of thinking about her hair.

Around twelve forty-five she went to the kitchen and with a smile on her face placed an order for two specials. While she waited for the order she sliced up tomatoes and mozzarella for a salad. She smiled as she imagined Jackson eating the salad he loved so much.

Her phone pinged relentlessly from her pocket and she quickly retrieved it before Mr. Moretti localized the sound and complained.

On the porch.

She loaded up a tray with their lunches and trekked through the restaurant to the back porch. Using the towel she deposited his chicken dish and hers, followed by the salads. “Buon appetito.”

He stood and hugged her, then he placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Your hair looks good.” She scowled at him. “Too soon?” She nodded.

They sat and he cut into his chicken. When he put the bite into his mouth he dropped his utensils and moaned. “Oh, this is better than it’s ever been before,” he expressed around a mouthful of food.

Her smile was so wide she thought it would crack. “You really think so?”

“No thinking about it, it’s a scientific fact.” He took another huge bite.

“Guess what?” Her eyes were large as she waited for him to answer.

“Mmm, what?”

“I made the sauce today.”

His hand slapped the table. “That’s what it is, Bug. Everything you touch is made better. You have the golden touch.”

She giggled and cut into her dish.

“This mozzarella is the best too. It’s so tender and full of flavor.” He gestured with his fork to the salad she’d made. “They pay you in peanuts even though you provide them with a ton of skill.”

He was absolutely right.

“I saw those notecards on the clips in the case. Turned out nice. I like how you organized the cheese by region.”

Of course he’d noticed. He observed her every move. His intensity could be overwhelming at times, but she wouldn’t change anything about him. He noticed every little thing, including her too long hair and even her efforts at work. She smiled, “I’ve moved twenty-three pounds of cheese already today.”

“Wow, that’s incredible.” He ran his finger across his lower lip, something he did when he was thinking. “How many pounds are sold on average per day?”

“Three.”

“It’s truly astonishing. Well done.”

“I’ve also started a cheese log for my regulars so I can keep track of their purchases and reference what they liked. And it’ll help me keep the case stocked with favorites.”

“You’re really happy when you talk about managing the counter.”

“I really am. I have something else I’d like to discuss.”

“Okay, shoot.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin.

She swallowed. “I think I’d like to quit college and work here fulltime. What do you think of that? Is it crazy? Do you think it’s a horrible idea?”

“I can’t answer that for you.” His fingers swept a rogue curl behind her ear. “Feel it in your gut, what’s it saying? The answers will come, just keep an open mind.”

His forehead creased and his eyes blazed at her like sparkling jewels in the sun. He’d forgotten his sunglasses. She had no idea how he’d take her news. There was no major at her school that was remotely culinary and unless she enrolled in the college of business—and that was a stretch—it was really of no use to her.

“But yeah, I get it.”

She exhaled the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. She didn’t know if he’d be indifferent or even upset. He’d been through so much school and she didn’t want him to think her foolish for not seeing its value.

“I mean I think if I were in medical school or law school I would be pursuing it with everything I have, but I’m passionate about food and there’s no major at the college for me.”

He nodded. “It makes sense. People go to school to learn a trade, which you’re cultivating here in the restaurant.” His index finger tapped the table. “What do you propose?”

“If I drop by Friday Dad will get eighty percent of his money back for classes.”

“You know you’re really good at all of this.” He waved his finger in a circle in the air. “You need your own place. Imagine what you could do without being held back by an evil dictator.”

“He’s not that bad. He’s had a hard year.”

He nodded and placed his hand on hers. “I know.” He was sincere and his lips almost curled into a comforting smile. He was so afraid to let himself be happy. She envisioned tickling him to make him less controlled.

“So now you have to tell your father.”

She bit her lip. “I guess I’ll call him tonight. How do you think he’ll take it?”

He leaned back as deep thought settled across his face. “I think the key is to let him know you’re happy and that you have a plan.”

That made a lot of sense. “How’d you get to be so smart?”

“It’s a constant battle.” She started to lean into him for a kiss. “You’re brother’s here.”

She froze in place, restless as she thought about the day they would no longer have to hide their love. That day would come soon enough. For now it was best not to ruin everybody’s lunch.