c3

Thirty minutes later, she knew what she hoped to gain. She was laughing with him as she told him about lunch with her girlfriends, about Marty complaining about her husband, about Beth suggesting it was perfectly logical to have a baby without one. She told him all about Steve and her plans to get a puppy in a couple of years to keep him company. He told her about the ride he took up to Tahoe over the weekend—just a quick one, a few hours in the morning. When he described the views, the lake, the mountains in full summer green, she began to get a sense for why he found this enjoyable. It was odd that this grease monkey had such an appreciation for the outdoors.
"Seems like if you're so fond of nature, you'd hunt or fish or camp."
"I camp," he said, sipping his coffee. "Sort of. If I have time for a weekend ride, I take a bedroll and backpack, find a nice piece of beach under the stars or a soft pad of grass on a hilltop and…camp. I don't think I'm patient enough to fish and I could never shoot anything."
"How about golf?" she asked teasingly.
"You're kidding me, right?" He laughed hard at that. Imagine this guy in his boots and chains and naked lady swinging around a golf club with the Polo-clad crowd.
They learned a little more about each other. Neither of them had ever been married; they both came from families of four children, though hers were half sibs. His family was local, hers was in Des Moines. And they'd both worked at their current jobs for more than five years.
At one point he asked her if she was still feeling nervous about her incident and she told him she was slowly getting past that, but she'd decided to be a lot more cautious. She didn't want to find herself in that position ever again. "I'm all done dating," she said. "At least for a good long time. I think I've been through enough."
"Understandable."
"That really shouldn't have happened. I usually have much better instincts than that."
"It doesn't seem like you did anything wrong, Cassie. He's a freak, that's all."
After an hour or so of coffee, they browsed together, helping each other pick out books. In the parking lot he said, "You know, I like these coffee dates. It's a real nice break in the day."
"I enjoyed it, too."
"I know it's only been twice, but I'm already looking forward to the next one."
"Even if you have to drive across town?"
"Even if," he said. Then he pulled a short stack of business cards out of his pocket, sifted through them and handed her one. All it said was his name and a phone number. "If you call that cell number when you feel like coffee, I won't keep you waiting so long. I don't give it out that often—I get too many calls from bikers with mechanical problems when I do. They like me to walk them through home repairs. But I'd like you to have it."
"Gee," she said. "You have that kind of schedule, that a person can just interrupt you in the middle of work and it's okay?"
"I put in a lot of hours. No one minds when I take a little personal time. You call—I'll come," he said.
"You know…I haven't offered you my phone number, and there's a reason—"
He put a big hand gently on her forearm. "Oh, I'd love to have your number, Cassie. But I know it's important you be in charge right now. You call me anytime. I'll be there."
"Thanks. That's nice. That you understand."
"Hey. I was there, remember?"
  Billy's part-time job in addition to the fire department was in construction. He could've made it his full-time job and maybe make more money than he currently did at F.D., but it didn't have the same potential for growth. It offered good money for flexible hours that he could fit around his F.D. schedule. The contractor let him work a few hours here and there while he was doing his twenty-four-hour shifts with the department and full days on his off time. He could get in at least twelve full days a month, usually more like sixteen. Cutting wood and stone for countertops was often tedious, but he did it perfectly and it paid well.
And it was damn hard work. Both his jobs were physically demanding. Although he was a paramedic, he didn't drive the rescue rig every day—he was a firefighter first. So about every other workday, he worked the rescue rig and other times he was on the engine. Then he'd cut wood and rock—exhausting, dirty work. He had about enough time to eat, sleep and go back to one job or another. But he and Jules needed the money. He hadn't called in sick to either job since the day he started. He didn't average a day off a week. If he could just stay with F.D. eight to ten years and promote himself on time, the money and overtime would get real good. Right now he was keeping his finger in the dam.
Today he had come home from his twenty-four-hour shift at F.D. and gone to bed for a few hours, despite the noise in the house. He knew Jules was going to lunch with her girlfriends, which was a good thing—it could put her in a decent mood. A little break from the kids, some girl talk, maybe she could get in some serious complaining about Billy and unload it. So he woke himself up after about four hours of sleep and went straight to his mother-in-law's to pick up Clint and Stephie before their nap time. They'd already had lunch, so they were ready to settle in when he got them home.
Ordinarily, he'd take advantage of the quiet and try to catch a nap; he hadn't had much sleep and was planning to go back to the shop after dinner and hopefully work till midnight. But instead, he went after some marital points; he cleaned the kitchen, picked up dog-doo, trimmed the hedges and put the ladder up against the house to see if he could fix the drooping gutter that was breaking away because someone hadn't cleaned it out in the late fall and it had been too burdened with leaves and twigs to stay attached. That someone was him.
He put his toolbox on the slanted roof to his right and was going after the gutter with a screwdriver, leaning a little to the left, when the toolbox began to slide. He dropped the screwdriver in the gutter and grabbed for the toolbox, which he shoved back up on the roof. But the sudden action caused the ladder to sway and teeter and he couldn't get the toolbox stable. He grabbed the gutter for ballast, but it was a poor choice—the gutter was already weak and breaking away from the eave. His feet pushed the ladder away and it fell to his right. Billy hung on to the gutter but not for long. It gave under his weight and tore away, but at least his descent was slower. After dropping a few feet, he let go so he wouldn't tear the whole damn thing off, and fell the rest of the way. It wasn't all that far.