Page 50 of A Hard Habit to Break

“Yes, he’s an old-fashioned kind of man.” Bethany smiled, looking around at the time capsule on display. Her gaze zoomed in on the bookcase balanced on top of the desk. She beamed at Rachel’s teenage obsessions, Lady Gaga’s first CD, Beyoncé’s “Single Ladies” temporary tattoo, and the Twilight quartet paperback collection. It became more apparent to Rachel that she should thank the new woman of the house for respecting what had once been her sanctuary.

“My mom didn’t talk much, either.” Why had she offered that tidbit of information?Whatever.She didn’t know how to act with another woman to talk to. She had her father, then Noah, now Benji, and maybe Noah… again.

“My Amarie’s room looked a lot like yours,” Bethany mused. “To see it, you two could be sisters.”

“Thanks for not changing it. I don’t remember if I said as much my first night in town.” Rachel hadn’t considered how thoughtful Bethany’s decision to leave her room untouched was until now. She hadn’t pried open the door to sort through Rachel’s memories of her mom. Not that there were many. The few she had faded with each passing year. She wished Noah’s did the same. As Bethany looked away, Rachel’s thoughts drifted back to the trepidation she had felt when she’d arrived. Bethany had disarmed her at every turn, and this visit, the mother-daughter bonding, had done more of the same.

“Is that why you’re here? To tell me not to worry? That Noah is a professional? He knows what he’s doing?” Of course, Noah worked hard at being the best. But that wouldn’t protect him from oxygen-robbing smoke and spreading flames. He was confident, borderline arrogant, and walked around as if he was surgically enhanced with Wolverine’s adamantium skeleton.But he was a man. A too-gorgeous, cocky, courageous spark that she could never douse from her life. Look what that got her.

“No. Noah is one of the most dedicated, protective, and loyal men I know. He’s also not a man to rush into a cocksure decision when danger is involved.”

No lies told. Noah would count the cost of his actions. Her head understood, but her heart was a hasty one. Rachel’s fear, though unreasonable, felt rational. As much as she wanted to dispute with Bethany, the woman made it difficult to argue facts. “I hope you’re right.”

“I am. Now, my first husband, Amarie’s father, that man lacked conviction. He overpromised. He rarely delivered. And he never looked at me like your father does… the way Noah looks at you. I was an extension of his wants, his needs, his desires. I spent years waiting for him to come home after a long day at the hospital saving lives and appreciating me for being there for him. To refill what he’d poured out of himself in caring for others.”

Rachel understood the longing, the waiting, the hopefulness before she realized she’d been the one he’d let go. “Did it ever happen?”

“Would we be having this conversation if he had?”

“Valid point.” Rachel wished people were as easy to redesign as brick and mortar. It was why she designed spaces that impacted people’s lives. Steel and stone endured. Buildings lived on, creating a legacy all their own. People died. Her mother’s death had taught her that. Love failed. Noah had been a private tutor in heartbreak.

“Noah made you a promise… that he’d see you when those who need him now are away from the immediate danger. Mark my words, your fella will want you to see he’s safe.” She chuckled. “My, would you listen to that? I’m starting to sound like an Appalachia native.”

“Oh, Noah’s not my—”

Bethany held out a hand. “Noah helped your father clear land in case you wanted to build a cabin on the farm. In the time that I’ve been in Service, I’ve noticed Noah’s friendship with Matt. He’s a hopeless flirt.” Rachel started to look away until Bethany added, “But he’s also a man who cares deeply. He’s brave, thoughtful, and loving. And he’s been waiting for you to come home for a long time, my dear.”

“How can you know that? How can you be sure?” How could Rachel trust the hope erecting new beams to support the desire building in every ounce of her being?

“Didn’t, not until I saw how you looked at him. Some part of Noah is home for you, too. When the emergency came through, you searched for him first. We don’t always share with one another how a man in love looks to his woman when he’s scared. It’s okay to be afraid on behalf of your man when he can’t.”

An image of Rachel’s mom, quiet, reserved, walled off, came to her. Would Gladys Johnson agree with Bethany’s perspective? Would her mother have suggested a similar response? Were these the kind of conversations that happened between mothers and daughters? Rachel couldn’t imagine having this exchange with her father.

“Rachel, sometimes a woman has to quiet her mind to hear her heart. Call me old-fashioned, but it’s a good thing to stand by your man, to want to be there for him. As long as you understand that in giving, it has to meet your needs just as much as his wants.”

“I doubt that’s what’s happening between me and Noah, but staring up at the sky didn’t clarify our situation either.” Rachel gestured to the door. “After you.”

Once downstairs, they’d pulled leftover pork, barbecue beans, and coleslaw from the fridge, eating in silence. Thelack of conversation heightened her worry. Resigned that none of them could pig out on pork with knots in their gut, Rachel stress-cleaned the dishes, then lined up the canned goods in the pantry by color. One static crackle had her lunging for the scanner.

“FriendFriend, you’re glued to that thinga-ma-bobble like it’s lotto time, and Noah’s your winning ticket. My heart and my manicure won’t survive the night at this rate.”

Bethany cleared the table before pulling out the preliminary redevelopment plans and the clinic proposal with original blueprint copies. Without prodding or coaxing them to participate, she worked in silence.

Slowly, Rachel refocused and opened Noah’s email regarding the abandoned mill. Benji joined in, asking questions, offering suggestions, and trauma bonding. With her as a best friend, the man had earned a therapy license through OJT—on-the-job training. Heaven had dispatched one of its colorful, linen pants–wearing angels for her.

Speaking of his holiness, Benji lowered the budget spreadsheets Rachel had reviewed on her first day with the binder. “Anyone else notice the fire department has received more per capita funding than law enforcement?”

“Yeah, I see the trend.” Rachel sighed, wondering if Noah had any idea that while his department received adequate funding, other services went without. “Guess Pete’s policies delivered for some.”

“And that’s the problem,” Bethany added, “with poor leadership. Smiles at us all but only serves the select few. Service deserves better.”

Rachel agreed. Pete wouldn’t, but she hoped Noah would see reason. If he returned home safe. No—when, when he returned. She did her best to utter coherent thoughts through the haze of nerves and anxiety. They tossed around ideas fortwo hours about the high school and the mill, with its courtyard, main building, and surrounding structures. They reviewed previous public service budget allocations. Refined cost projections. Expanded utility assessments. Sketch updates could happen later.

One more hour of torturing herself with terrible scenarios, each worse than the one before. Still no updates on Noah.

She held on for a final fifty-nine minutes before she crumbled. “What can we do? Someone has to know something about the firefighters. If anyone has been hurt…” She trailed off, willing her mind to stop spiraling deeper into darkness. Finally Rachel bounded out of her chair, the legs making a terrible scraping noise. “This isn’t working.”

“FriendFriend, please. I’ve mentally consumed two pints of pistachio almond custard,” Benji squawked. “My waistline can’t take another ounce. Trust that your hot guy knows how to handle his hose.”