Darren Keller poured himself a cup of coffee and headed for the living room to relax for the evening. As a full-time fireman, he had days less demanding. The men would do chores around the fire station and keep up with maintaining the trucks. Then there were days like today: unusually long and full of action. In addition to responding to three house fires, his fire department had been called out to a seven-car pileup on the interstate, involving a propane truck. Several people had been injured, and there’d been a huge fire to put out. Thankfully, no one was killed.
Darren liked his job, but it could be stressful. When his wife, Caroline, died from a brain tumor two years ago, he’d been tempted to find another job. Darren had struggled with whether it was fair to his son, Jeremy, to be raised by a single parent who might not always be there for him. There was always the possibility of being injured. Worse yet, he could be killed during the dangerous situations firemen often face. After having a heated debate with himself and seeking out a friend’s counsel, he decided to stick with the job he knew and loved, remembering to take every precaution. He felt thankful for his parents’ promise that, if something should happen to him, they would take care of Jeremy.
Brushing his thick, curly hair off his forehead, Darren leaned back in the easy chair and closed his eyes. An image of his beautiful wife came to mind. Darren could almost hear her sweet voice reminding him of the importance of his job. Caroline had always supported his choice to be a fireman, and he felt sure she would approve of him continuing in the profession. He couldn’t count the many times his wife had said she was proud of him for the heroic deeds he considered to be normal. Even the smallest of acts, Caroline believed, were valiant, and many times she referred to Darren as a “gallant knight in shining armor.” Courageous or not, it was his instinct to help and protect.
I miss you, Caroline. Jeremy misses you too. I’m doing the best I can to set a good example and teach him all he needs to know. But he needs a mom—someone to show him the softer side of life.
Hearing the clomp, clomp of feet racing through the hall, Darren opened his eyes. Stocking footed, Jeremy slid into the room, in hot pursuit of his dog, Bacon. The reddish dachshund zipped behind Darren’s chair, and when Jeremy charged after, he slipped and fell.
“You okay?” Darren grabbed the arms of his chair, prepared to get up.
“Yeah.” Jeremy blinked, and his cheeks flushed a bright pink. “Guess I shoulda been wearin’ my shoes.”
“Glad you’re okay.” Hoping to make light of the situation, Darren pointed to the floor. “Hope the floor’s okay too.”
With a groan, and an eye roll, Jeremy clambered to his feet. “That stupid mutt never comes when I call him.”
Darren shook his head. “Now don’t blame Bacon, and he’s not a stupid mutt. The little fella’s still a pup, and you shouldn’t have been running through the house.”
Rubbing his elbow, Jeremy dropped his brown-eyed gaze to the floor. “Sorry, Dad.”
Darren clapped his hands. “Come here, Bacon. There’s no need for you to hide.”
Looking sheepish, as he crawled on his belly, the dog came out from behind the chair.
Darren reached down and rubbed Bacon’s silky ears. He’d given the dog to Jeremy for his birthday last month, hoping it would not only offer the boy companionship, but teach him responsibility.
“Hey, Dad, are there any of those cookies left that Mrs. Larsen brought us last week?” Jeremy leaned close to Darren’s chair. Corine Larsen was a sweet grandmotherly woman who looked after Jeremy when Darren was at work.
“Nope. I put the last of ’em in your lunch box when you left for school this morning.”
Jeremy frowned. “Would ya buy some more cookies?”
“I could, but it might be fun if you learned how to bake them yourself.”
Jeremy tipped his head. “Are you gonna teach me?”
Darren reached for the newspaper lying on the side table beside his chair. “No, but I saw an ad earlier about a woman who lives in Walnut Creek. Starting next month, she’ll be teaching a cooking class for kids every other Saturday for six weeks. Since you’ll be getting out of school for the summer next week, a cooking class might be fun. What do you think?”
“No way! There’d probably be a bunch of girls there.” Jeremy folded his arms. “I think it’s a bad idea, Dad.”
“I don’t. In fact, I’m going to call the number listed and get more details.”
Miranda Cooper stared at her reflection in the full-length bedroom mirror. Her straight, shoulder-length auburn hair lacked body. She should probably try a different style, or maybe get a perm to fluff it up. But why bother with that? Miranda wasn’t trying to impress anyone—least of all her husband, Trent, who’d moved out of their house a month ago, because she asked him to.
“Well, it doesn’t matter.” She plumped her tresses. “He’s not here to notice anymore. If only he hadn’t…”
Miranda’s six-year-old son bolted into her room through the open door. “Who ya talkin’ to, Mommy?”
“No one, Kevin. Well, actually, I was talking to myself.”
He stared up at her with a curious expression. “What were you sayin’ to yourself?”
“Nothing important.” Miranda ruffled the boy’s sandy brown hair, then smoothed it down over his ears. She kept the sides long enough to cover her son’s ears, which sometimes made him the brunt of other children’s teasing. Kids could be cruel. It wasn’t Kevin’s fault his ears stuck out. His older sister, Debbie, was protective and usually stood up for him. With two years between them, they’d always gotten along well.
Kevin flopped down on her bed, and Miranda tickled his bare toes. “Where’s your sister?”
“In her room, fixin’ her ponytail.” Kevin sat up. “Hey, can we get a trampoline for the backyard? Aaron’s parents bought him one last week.”
“That might be a question you can ask your dad, but maybe you should wait and see if the fun of it wears off for your friend. I’ve noticed a lot of trampolines in people’s backyards, but rarely see anyone playing on them.” Miranda sat beside Kevin. “For now, when you go over to Aaron’s house, you can enjoy his.”
“Okay, Mommy.” Kevin jumped up and ran out of the room.
“Don’t forget to pick up your clothes!” Miranda shook her head. Getting Kevin to pick up after himself was like reminding her husband to visit the kids more often.
I wish there was something fun for Debbie and Kevin to do this summer. Miranda twirled her fingers around a strand of her hair. Maybe I should sign them up for the cooking class I read about in the paper this morning. I think they might enjoy doing it together.
Denise McGuire sank to the edge of her bed, covering her face with her hands. If ever there was a time she felt like giving up her career as a Realtor, it was now. The events of today had been stressful. Her first appointment had been scheduled for nine o’clock this morning, but thanks to her daughter having a hissy fit during breakfast, Miranda had been forty minutes late. When she finally got to her office, the people had left. Not a good way to start the day—especially with prospective clients.
On top of that, by the time she dropped Kassidy off at her school, Miranda had developed a headache. Who wouldn’t get a headache when they’d been listening to their eleven-year-old daughter carry on from the moment she’d taken a seat at the breakfast table until she’d gotten out of Denise’s luxury sedan in the school parking lot? Kassidy’s tirade had been about something so stupid—wanting to get her hair dyed dark brown like her mother’s, because she hated her own red hair. No matter what Denise said to discourage her daughter, Kassidy was relentless—shouting and screaming that she wasn’t loved and wished she had different parents. Before he’d left for work, Denise’s husband, Greg, had tried to reason with their daughter, but he’d gotten nowhere. Greg had a way of knowing when to bolt, leaving Denise to deal with their daughter. Once Kassidy made her mind up about something, there was no rationalizing with her.
Maybe it’s my fault, because I’m so busy with my job and other obligations. I need to find something we can both do together this summer, when Kassidy’s out of school. Denise rubbed her forehead. But when would I have the time? My schedule is erratic, and many people look for houses during the summer. Normally, sales increased once the weather turned warm, which also meant Denise’s income increased.
She rose from the bed and moved over to stand by the window. The sun had already set, and shadows lay across their expansive backyard. Greg was at a meeting with some other lawyers from his firm and would no doubt get home late this evening. “Even if he was here,” she murmured, “he probably wouldn’t want to discuss the situation with Kassidy.”
These days, with Greg’s busy law practice, he was rarely at home. When he was, he wanted to relax and be left alone. Denise could relate, as she needed some downtime too. But she always made a little time each day to connect with their daughter, although sometimes she wondered why. Dealing with Kassidy’s negative attitude was draining. It seemed there was no pleasing the girl.
Denise leaned her forehead against the window, hoping the cool glass might ease her pounding head. She stood up straight, as a thought popped into her head. After showing another client a home at noon, she had stopped for a bite to eat in Sugarcreek. When Denise left the restaurant, she’d seen a flyer on a bulletin board near the door, advertising cooking classes for children. At the time, she hadn’t paid much attention to it, but wished now she’d had the presence of mind to write down the information.
I think I’ll go back to that restaurant tomorrow and see what I can find out about the cooking classes. The activity with other children might be good for Kassidy. Denise couldn’t count all the times she’d tried teaching her daughter to cook a few simple things. Maybe someone who wasn’t related would have better luck.