Page 51 of A Hard Habit to Break
“Too soon, plus one,” she grunted at Benji’s much-needed humor. “I do. Forgive me if I doubt the fire cares.” Sitting wouldn’t help Noah either. She needed to act. Do something.
“Save your breath, BW,” her father said.When had Benji earned a nickname?Guess his performance on the field had brightened his star for her dad. “The third time is no charm. When RJ’s nervous, she has to keep busy. Always been that way.”
“Dad, stop talking about me like I’m not here.” Where Noah had touched her, her skin tingled. Thoughts of him, in danger, battling nature, consumed her.
She could call Leah again. Noah’s mom had sounded confident in the crew, even in her worry. Rachel didn’t have any experience with a man who ran into danger. For goodness’ sake, why had she praised him for being a firefighter? Noah was insane for risking his life repeatedly. She’d tell him just that. Assoon as he came home. She said a silent prayer. Please, let him come home.
Her father stood, taking her by the shoulders. She stopped pacing. Inside, her mind raced on without her.
“Go get your tool belt, RJ. That’s what it’s for. Work through the worry.”
Her father released her. Off to the races her feet went.Don’t cry.She could stay strong. If they’d been married, this would be her life. Noah Calvary and tears. The package deal sucked.
Bethany, who’d been quietly watching her, a worried expression on her face, sat taller. “What’s this about a tool belt?”
“After we lost my wife, I could barely move, and RJ couldn’t keep still neither. I’d wake up to find breakfast made, and my baby girl off on the farm.”
“I was exploring, Dad.”
“You were running,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Agree to disagree. I liked watching the water, the sound of the waterfall.” She’d imagined the rushing water whisking her downstream, each tickle pushing her farther from the pain.
“No doubt you grew to love all that, with the hours you spent watching that water flow away from Service, down the mountain, away from a father who barely functioned.”
“Dad, I never saw you that way.” He’d never chastised her for all the times she chose Noah over the farm. For every homecoming hayride, holiday parade, every teenage bonfire, he’d told her to have fun and come home safe. The few times he had to see the straw Noah had missed tangled in her hair, or the scent of hops and barley on her breath, her father would remind Noah that some birds got shot, and some bass got smoked. Afterward, they were both more careful.
“Whether you recognized it or not—I know the truth. As your father, I should’ve done better.”
“What I remember is you doing the best you could,” she whispered. Minutes passed. All she could do was keep moving as three worried faces stared back at her. Finally, her dad offered them a reprieve.
“RJ,” her father called. “Go organize the toolshed… alphabetical order… by the manufacturer. When you’re done, we’ll all binge eat fake ice cream.”
Benji chuckled first. Then Bethany.
Rachel stopped pacing the length of the kitchen, which was so inviting. “You’re trying to make me laugh.”
Her dad smiled a lopsided grin. “Did it work?”
She walked over to the table and wrapped her dad in a hug. “Yeah, it did.”
He patted her hand. “That’s my kid.”
Turning, Rachel took charge of the situation, that being her emotions. “Bethany, do you mind if I take your notes and the blueprints up to my room? I need some alone time to revise the functional design.”
Bethany scrambled to her feet. “Sure,” she said without hesitancy.
Benji chimed in. “I know we’re focused on the community redevelopment grant. But…” He trailed off, rifling through a pile of printouts. “The fires have given me an idea.”
Rachel hoped it included a solution for the loss of farmlands and those whose homes and jobs would be impacted.
“Don’t keep us in suspense,” Matt rasped. “Did you uncover more money?”
“Maybe,” Benji said with cautious optimism. “Rachel, if you can redesign the clinic spaces to include a disaster relief hub, we could compete for the Environmental Protection Agency’s Community Change Equitable Resilience Grant.”
Bethany paused. “How is a hub different from a center?”
“Good question. It’s a long answer.” Benji flipped open his laptop, his fingers flying across the keys. “Here’s what’s on the web page. A disaster hub is more than an evacuation shelter. It serves as a food and water distribution site at the local and federal levels. A backup communications center for emergency services and community engagement resources on ordinary days.”
