This Reminds Me of Us Page 5

  “They’re seven and five, Ollie. You can’t expect them to put away their laundry and enjoy it.”

  “I know that.” He took a deep breath. “I’m just being …”

  “You’re just being Oliver Wolfe.”

  True, that. He was wound too tight. No secret there. Everyone in St. Caroline knew it.

  You were born wound too tight.

  It worked for him, though. If I weren’t wound this tight, I wouldn’t be half the firefighter I am. He looked up to see his father and Mason carrying trays of pie back to the table, Cam clutching a fistful of forks and napkins in each hand.

  “We’ll get through this, Ollie. We will. I just need a little time to recover.” She covered his hand with hers.

  He flipped her hand over, threaded his fingers into hers, and lifted it to his lips. The scent of her skin triggered all sorts of memories that he knew it was safer not to indulge right now.

  “I know we will. It’s just that I expected things to go back to normal and …” He watched as his dad and the boys got closer. Soon they’d be in earshot of the table.

  “And it hasn’t. I’m sorry.”

  Under the table, she pressed her thigh against his. She used to do that all the time when they were dating, a discreet promise of what was in store once they left the restaurant.

  “It’s not your fault, baby.” He kissed her hand again before lowering it back to the table. The pie-gatherers were nearly upon them. “You know me. Patience is not my strong suit.”

  She nudged his thigh again. “I do seem to remember that, love.”

  Chapter 8

  “Mom’s different,” Mason declared as he looked around the main bay of the fire station. The school bus had dropped him and Cam off here after school. It was quiet right now, but he had his fingers crossed for a call to come in. Then the bay would explode into action. The guys would jump into their turnout gear, the engines would rumble in the trucks, the bay doors would lift, the sirens would wind up. He loved everything about the station.

  “Oh yeah? How so?” His Uncle Mattie was keeping an eye on him and Cam until their dad was done talking to their grandfather.

  Mason was proud that Paps was the fire chief. It was a family thing, working for the St. Caroline fire department. Paps, Dad, Uncle Matt, Uncle Jack. A few other family members in the past too was Mason’s understanding. Some of the other boys at school wanted to be firefighters when they grew up, but Mason knew he actually would be.

  “Like, she doesn’t remember who my teacher was last year.” This had been on his mind since their Thanksgiving day visit to the hospital last week.

  “Well. Huh. Does it matter if she doesn’t remember that?”

  Great. Uncle Matt was just like Dad and Paps.

  Does it matter if …

  We have to be patient …

  It’s not that important …

  But some of it was important! Important to me!

  “I didn’t have a teacher last year,” Cam chimed in.

  Well, duh.

  “Your mom was in an accident, bud. She bumped her head. She might have trouble remembering things for a little bit. Be patient, okay? Help her out when she’s forgetting something.”

  “Yeah. We know.” Well, Cam didn’t really seem to know but he was only five. What could you expect?

  Mason glanced toward Paps’ office. His dad was inside. The door was closed. Dad said he was going back to work soon, which Mason was happy about. Dad didn’t do things around the house the way Mom did. Not in a bad way, just different. Mason didn’t like different. Too many things were different these days. Second grade was harder than first, for starters. And Nana was gone. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night because he thought he smelled her perfume—oranges and flowers. And then he had trouble falling back to sleep. He didn’t like that.

  Different was definitely not good.

  Serena tried to ignore the throbbing ache in her right leg. The doctor wasn’t kidding when he said that physical therapy in the rehabilitation wing would be intense. Her muscles felt like jelly after each session and she hadn’t slept through the night once since she was transferred. On the other hand, it did keep her too tired to dwell on bigger picture issues.

  Such as who am I?

  What kind of mother forgets her own kids? Oliver had brought the boys to see her twice since Thanksgiving. Try as she might, she couldn’t even picture their bedroom at home. She looked at their outfits and knew she must have gone shopping for those clothes, but they were completely foreign to her.

  She was staring at a spot on the ceiling, trying to picture the boys’ closets at home, when the door to her room slowly swung open. A pile of brightly colored fabric appeared, followed by a middle-aged woman with greying blonde hair and brown eyes. Serena recognized her immediately, which had her inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. It was Michelle Trevor, one of Angie Wolfe’s closest friends.

  “Hi there,” Michelle said, a broad toothy smile accompanying her greeting. “I’m glad I caught you awake.”

  Serena smiled back. “They keep me pretty busy here.”

  “I’m Michelle Trevor …”

  Serena nodded. “I know.” The door fell closed behind the other woman.

  “Wasn’t sure you would remember me.”

  “I haven’t forgotten everything.” She tried to picture Michelle’s daughters. She knew it was a family of all girls, but all she could come up with was a generic picture of blonde and tan, athletically beachy.

  “No no, I know. Oliver filled me in.”

  Serena wondered how many people had been “filled in” on her condition. Michelle was a close family friend of the Wolfes, so no surprise there that she was up to date. But it was also entirely possible that the entire town of St. Caroline knew that she had memory loss. That I can’t remember my own kids. A hot flush of shame washed over her. How much detail was Ollie going into when he spoke to people?

  Michelle began unfolding the bundle of fabric in her arms. It was a quilt. Michelle Trevor owned a quilt shop in town, Quilt Therapy. She remembered Tim Wolfe always joking that when he didn’t know where his wife was, he could just assume she was at Quilt Therapy.

  “Tim asked me to bring this by,” Michelle explained. “He thought it might help make the room a little homier.”

  “Thank you.” Serena pulled the edge of the quilt closer. It was white with multi-colored stars. “Is this one that Angie made?”

  “It is. Ohio Star quilts were a favorite of hers.”

  “She made a quilt for me and Ollie as a wedding present. Not this design, though. It was so beautiful that we never put it on our bed. We didn’t want to wear it out.” She traced her finger along a line of stitching.

  “Oh honey, she would want you to use it all the time. A quilt like that takes hundreds of hours to make. It’s a shame to keep it put away.”

  Serena squinted at the tiny white stitches outlining the pattern. “Maybe I’ll put it on our bed when I get home then.” She exhaled. “You’re right. Seems silly to save things instead of using them.”

  Especially now, after what had happened to her. It took awhile, but Ollie had finally filled her in on some of the details of the accident. The cause was still undetermined, but she was lucky to be alive. And lucky that the boys weren’t in the car with her.

  “Did I quilt?” She looked over at Michelle Trevor.

  “No. Angie always wanted to teach you, but you and Oliver started a family right away so you had your hands full.”

  Serena couldn’t remember ever wanting to quilt but now … tears welled in her eyes. Maybe she should have let Angie teach her. Sure, with two kids, she would have been busy but … now the opportunity was lost for good. She swiped her cheek.

  “It’s not real to me,” she said, “that she’s gone. I don’t remember her even being sick.”

  The expression on Michelle’s face tightened and then softened as she got her own emotions under control. “It’s not real to me,
either. Maybe not real to anyone who knew her.”

  “How long was she …” She pulled the quilt up to her chest. “I didn’t want to ask Ollie for all the details. Talking about that kind of stuff isn’t his strong suit, to begin with.”

  “In my experience, it’s not the strong suit for most men. If you’re asking how long was she sick, it was about ten months. My husband—Dr. Trevor, he’s your boys’ pediatrician—said that’s not uncommon with ovarian cancer. By the time it’s found, it’s often spread too far to be treated. The very end was pretty quick, though. Mercifully.”

  “I can imagine she had everything organized and in order by then.”

  “She did. You and Angie were close.”

  Serena nodded. “I do remember that.”

  “She considered you to be the daughter she never had.”

  Tears spilled over her lashes and cut a path down her cheeks. “She was the mother I never had. A mother who had time for me. I’m not sure anyone would even call me if my real mother were sick.” The tears were a torrent now. “Sorry. I just can’t believe I woke up and she’s gone.”

  Michelle set a box of tissues on the bed next to her. It took a moment, but Serena got herself under control again. Everyone in St. Caroline thought she was a free-spirited wild child. Next to Oliver, everyone looked wild but Serena liked to feel in control, too. She and Ollie were alike in that way. It was maybe the only way. She took a long, deep inhale.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  Michelle nodded.

  “I don’t like asking Oliver too many questions. It worries him. And I’m sure I’ll remember everything sooner or later, but …” Maybe she shouldn’t ask this of Michelle either. With the words right on the tip of her tongue, the idea sounded rather pathetic. But she plunged in anyway. “Could you maybe fill me in on things? But not tell anyone we had this conversation?”

  Michelle made a zipping motion across her lips. “Of course. Mum’s the word. Ask away.”

  “The boys were talking about Uncle Jack and Aunt Becca. And a cousin?” Serena shrugged her shoulders in bewilderment. “Has Jack really been married long enough to have a child? It just doesn’t seem possible.”

  Michelle made a noise that might have been a sound of amusement … or might not. Serena couldn’t tell and she hoped she hadn’t just asked the wrong question right off the bat. But Jack was her brother-in-law. She needed to know what was happening in the Wolfe family.

  “Well, they’re not married yet.”

  From the look on the older woman’s face, Serena wasn’t sure if she was going to tell her the story.

  “But the Becca everyone is referring to is your daughter, right?”

  Michelle nodded. “She was living in Ohio for a number of years. She moved there a few months before Mason was born, I believe. You probably didn’t know her well.”

  “And Jack moved back home after college?”

  “Beginning of last summer. That’s when Becca moved back, too. It’s a long story but I have the time if you do.” Michelle smiled at her.

  “All I have is time right now, so lay it on me. And whatever else you think I should know before I go home.”

  Chapter 9

  After just five minutes on his hands and knees, Oliver felt the stiffness wrapping around his legs like a vise. The training building was dark with thick black smoke, and hot. It felt hotter than he remembered but then again, it had been six or seven months since he took part in a live burn training exercise.

  Oliver felt along the floor with his gloved hands, searching for the end to the corridor he was crawling through with three other firefighters. His brother, Matt, was in the lead position. The training facility was configured like a house with two main levels plus an attic and basement. Somewhere in the building were gas burners—the simulated fire Oliver’s team had to find and put out. Another team was searching for victims.

  Earlier in the day, Matt had suggested that they needed to find a training facility that could be configured into the layout of a much larger home. Every year brought the construction of more summer homes—some could even be called estates—on what used to be the farmland surrounding St Caroline. And every year, those homes seemed to get bigger and bigger, with rooms sprawled every which way. Sunrooms, morning rooms, his and hers offices, dressing rooms, butler’s pantries … but a firefighter only had so much air in his tank. A building had to be searched and victims found before the air ran out. Oliver agreed with Matt—it would be helpful to train in a larger layout.

  The stiffness in his legs wasn’t dissipating. His physical fitness was not as good as he had assumed. Nor should he even be thinking about that right now. He forced his attention back to the matter at hand—finding the fire.

  The air temperature in the corridor was growing noticeably hotter. They must be getting close to the burners. His hand hit the boot of the man in front of him. He paused and waited, blind in the darkness, calculating how long they’d been inside. He knew his brother up ahead was determining which way to go.

  Normally, following Mattie was not a good idea. His life choices were, in Oliver’s estimation, not the best. But in an emergency, there was no one Oliver would rather be behind than Matt. His brother had an almost preternatural ability to navigate unfamiliar environments without the aid of most of one’s senses.

  “Left up ahead.” His brother’s voice sounded in his earpiece.

  They began to move again, slowly feeling their way along the floor and wall, until the glow of the fire came into view. They stood as they entered the room, pulling the hose with them. It was a simulated bed fire, the gas burners engulfing the fake bed in raging flames. Oliver spotted the mannequin on the floor immediately.

  Son of a gun. They weren’t messing around with this exercise. Matt radioed command with the news that they had a victim while Oliver pulled the “body” away from the burning bed. No way this guy would have survived. If this had been one of those new mansions on the other side of town, they definitely would not have gotten to him in time.

  Oliver pulled his shoes and jacket from his locker at the station. He was exhausted. The live burn exercise had gone well, but his day was far from over. He still had to get home and relieve Becca of her babysitting duties. He slipped his hand into the jacket’s pocket and wrapped his fingers around his cell phone. He’d give Becca a quick call to let her know he was on the way.

  When the screen lit up he saw a voice mail notification. He recognized the number immediately. The hospital. Without even giving himself a chance to think, he tapped the screen to listen. He closed his eyes as the nurse’s voice bore into his brain. When the message was over, he hung up and shoved the phone into his pants pocket.

  “What happened?”

  He looked up to see Matt, a worried expression on his face.

  “That was the hospital. Serena had a fall.”

  “Is she okay?”

  Oliver gave an ambiguous nod. “She’s bruised and shaken. But nothing broken.”

  “That’s good. Could have been worse.”

  It could have been, but Oliver was too numb to feel anything resembling relief at this point. Just when he thought things might be getting better, the proverbial rug got pulled out from beneath him again.

  “I’ll go to your house. I can stay with the boys tonight, if you need to get to Baltimore.”

  “Thanks, man.” Oliver clapped his brother lightly on the back. “I’ll make all this up to you somehow.”

  “No worries. You’d do the same for me.”

  Chapter 10

  Serena opened her eyes. Yup, the ceiling was still doing that wavy, woozy thing. I’m high. The last time she was high like this was in college. Then she had gone and married a man who had smoked pot exactly one time and never had the desire to try it again. That was Oliver for you.

  She glanced down at her arms to see whether she was hooked up to an I.V. Nope. She let her eyelids drift shut again, hoping the pain meds wore off soon. The fall yester
day could have been worse. Nothing broken. Nowadays “nothing broken” qualified as good news. Her hip was bruised, along with her ego. She was making progress in physical therapy—just not as much progress as she thought, apparently.

  The bad news was that the doctor wanted to keep her another week now.

  “Just to make sure.”

  But Christmas was now only a week away. Serena knew the boys would be disappointed if she weren’t home for the big day. Ollie had managed to get all the shopping done, but she’d been hoping she could at least help him wrap gifts. Especially since he and the boys would have decorated the tree by now.

  Decorating the tree was her favorite part of Christmas, bar none. She hadn’t known people actually decorated their own trees until that first Christmas with Ollie. Growing up, her mother’s interior decorator had always done the family’s trees. One for the marble foyer, one for the living room that was over the top glitzy for guests, and one in the family room, which was where Serena and her brother’s gifts appeared on Christmas morning. Her friends’ families had done the same.

  She felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment at the memory. How awful that she didn’t even realize until she met Oliver Wolfe that most people put up only one Christmas tree and that they hung it with ornaments themselves. But that first Christmas with Ollie when they were newlyweds and she’d been pregnant with their honeymoon baby was hands down the best Christmas of her life.

  It was also the only Christmas with Ollie that she could remember, even though there were two young boys who remembered more.