The Firefighter's Match. Allie Pleiter
not.”
They went on for hours. Talking about little things—ice cream flavors, whether or not barista coffee was really worth the cost—and big things—why nature calmed the soul, what was going to happen to little places like Gordon Falls, why the high school version of who’d they’d be when they grew up had proved to be nothing close to the truth. The subjects seem to go deeper as the last traces of sunlight faded. Without ever speaking of it, they’d come to some sort of no-detail pact between them. No last names, no careers, none of that stuff. Wonderfully, effortlessly mysterious. A dark, luminescent bubble in the middle of nowhere.
“Alex,” JJ began, and he found himself wallowing in how she said his name, “why are you here?”
That could require another six hours of conversation. How do you explain being confounded by success, losing focus when focus was once your stock and trade? Really, what kind of person gets weary of their own supposed genius? Part of him was ready to spill it all, and part of him felt like he’d emptied out half his soul already. “I’m trying to figure out why it doesn’t all fit together anymore and what to do about it.” It was true, but nowhere near the full of it. He was here to figure out if he had to lay down Adventure Gear, the business he’d once loved and now hated. Only he couldn’t tell her that. To speak it out loud would bring that mess here, and he wanted all those problems to stay far away.
He looked at her, pleased to feel so startlingly close to her despite not even knowing her last name—or even what JJ stood for. “Why are you here?”
She sighed and looked out over the water. It was now full dark, and a perfect crescent moon cast sparkles on the water where she swished one foot into the river. “Because I don’t feel like I belong anywhere else. Anywhere at all, actually.”
He laughed softly.
She scowled. “It’s not so funny, you know.”
“No, it’s just that I’ve felt like I belong everywhere for so long, that actually sounds nice. I know it’s not—I mean, not for you—but isn’t it crazy how God skews the world for each of us?”
JJ hugged her knee again and propped her chin up, looking childlike and elegant at the same time. “So you believe in God, huh?”
Alex leaned back on his elbows and took in the glory of the sky. “I’ve seen so many amazing parts of the world that I can’t help but know He’s there. The big, grand creation stuff has always been easy for me to believe in.” He rolled his head to catch JJ’s eye. “It’s the up close and personal stuff that seems to have come unraveled lately. I’m not a guy who does well with questions and doubts.” He was grateful she didn’t ask for an explanation.
After a long pause, JJ offered, “I did, once. Believe, I mean.” Her voice was quiet, almost weary. “At least I thought I did.”
“And then?” He rolled over so that he was on his side facing her. She was fascinating. There wasn’t another word for it. Alex felt like he could stay up and talk out here for weeks.
“And then I saw too many things that made it hard to keep believing.” He knew not to press for anything further, but some part of him was grateful when, after a long pause, she added, “I was in the war.”
It explained so much. Her hard edges, the way her eyes assessed things, the weariness that seemed to inhabit every part of her. Suddenly every response he could think of sounded trite and placating.
“Yep,” she said, twice as wearily as before. “It’s always a fabulous conversation killer.”
“No, it’s just...”
“Please.” JJ held up a hand. “I’m so used to it by now. I’ve heard all the standard required replies and silence is actually a nice change.”
“I don’t know how you come back from something like that.” His own weariness, how globetrotting for adventure had lost its luster seemed downright ridiculous now.
“I suppose that makes two of us.” She got up to leave.
Alex scrambled upright. “Don’t. Please don’t go like that. Not now.” Her eyes looked a thousand miles deep, boring into Alex the way they did right now. “Two minutes. Just stay two more minutes.”
She stayed two more hours, still lingering when it started to rain. They got past the awkwardness, settling into a companionship that was as startling as it was soothing. Even soaked to the skin, it was the best night of his life.
Chapter Two
Worst day of my life.
Alex let that thought sink in as he raised his hand to knock on her cottage door two nights later. Sure, he could have called—the office had given him her cell number—but this wasn’t the kind of news that ought to be delivered over the phone. I owe Josephine Jones the dignity of hearing about this face to face. Now he knew her full name and was stunningly sorry he did. It’s going to be awful. In so many ways.
He knew she’d be up despite the excruciatingly early hour. In the days since they’d met, he had come to adore her insomnia with as much strength as he had once hated his. It was a terrible thing to lose the ability to sleep when the rest of the world could. Until JJ, he’d cursed his night-owl tendencies. For the past days, he had welcomed them.
Alex had checked the dock before heading up the gravel path that led to her house. He’d tried to tell himself that he was hoping to find her there because the peaceful surroundings might soften the hard news he carried. But he knew that wasn’t the real reason why he’d gone to the dock. He had taken the time down there to gather his own composure, to pray for the right words.
Finally, he’d realized there were no right words. Not for this kind of news. There was no easy way to admit to her what he knew, who he was, how much of the blame for this tragic news he was bringing her could be laid at his own feet.
I asked You to show me why I shouldn’t leave Adventure Gear behind, Lord. Did You have to show me this way?
He rapped gently on the cottage door, cringing as the light came on in the window he knew was her kitchen. It was still early enough for the moon to be hanging close and delicate in the brightening sky.
She opened the door with a yawning smile. “Hey. A bit early, even for you.”
He still couldn’t figure out how JJ exuded such a powerful, unusual beauty to him. So different from the usual frills and baubles. The difference struck him again as he stared at her, even as regret cut a sharp edge into his gut. She’ll probably hate me by the end of today. Maybe even by the end of this conversation.
“This can’t wait. May I come in?”
She had every right to look baffled. They’d both been out here for solitude, and though a friendship had begun to grow between them, they had kept out of each other’s private lives by mutual intuition. Really, it was the most amazing thing he’d ever known, this odd relationship he had with JJ. Their no-details pact had spawned the most powerful and deep conversations. Nature did that—pulled people into a bubble that shut out the mundane world. Alex had spent a career capitalizing on the natural world’s ability to heal a person’s spirit.
Only now it was coming back to slap him in the face. Hard.
“Um...sure. I can put some coffee on or something.”
They probably wouldn’t have time for coffee once he gave her the news. Alex was pretty sure he’d already taken more time than was wise, fishing fruitlessly for some kinder way to deliver the facts he came to share. “Don’t bother. But you need to sit down. I’ve...um...I’ve got a few things to tell you.”
JJ yanked her blond ponytail tighter—a habit of hers, he’d discovered—and led them into the kitchen. It had the sparse, uniform quality of a rental property, but he could see bits of JJ’s personality in the crock of flowers sitting in the middle of the table and a few other touches. All he knew was that she was here for