Page 13 of Fire Harbor
Once he settled around the table, his first taste of Lake’s cooking won him over. “This sauce has the tenderest tomatoes in it,” Linus remarked. “I mean, this is the best sauce I’ve ever had.”
She didn’t believe that for a minute. “Come on. Get real.”
“Old family recipe? I’m serious. Do you make lasagna with it?”
“When I make lasagna, sure. But it’s not an old family recipe. I got it out of a 1970s cookbook along with the canning method.”
From that point, their conversation flowed without much effort in a blur of laughter and connection. When they talked books, they covered the gamut, discussing classics in the vein of Nathaniel Hawthorne and Thomas Hardy, touching on the likes of William Golding and Cormac McCarthy.
“I already know your favorite genre,” Lake boasted. “It’s non-fiction.”
“I do enjoy reading about history and historical characters. But I do read a lot of—”
“Dan Brown,” she provided, adding quickly, “especially his Robert Langdon series. Rumor has it that he’s supposed to be working on a new Robert Langdon book.”
He knew she was smart, but now he realized that she had a quick wit. There was so much more to her than he had ever imagined. “You’re a fascinating wealth of information. I’ve never met anyone who actually read Cormac McCarthy’s post-apocalyptic America.”
“I love books about journeys. What better journey than a father and son facing a bleak landscape when they have absolutely nothing? The book isn’t for everyone, though, is it? You have to be in the right frame of mind to get through it, otherwise depression manifests like no other book I’ve ever read.”
“Agreed. But I’m just amazed that you actually got through it. But then you’re a librarian. You probably have read every book on the shelf. Which prompts the question, what’s your favorite book of all time?”
“You mean this year, don’t you? I couldn’t possibly pick one book from everything I’ve read. This year, though, I loved The Boys in the Boat. It’s uplifting and inspirational. Moving. And sort of sad, I guess, because they won the gold in 1936 but didn’t get the recognition they deserved when they beat the Germans in front of Hitler.”
“It’d be interesting to learn what books you haven’t read. How did you get a name like Lake anyway?”
Lake winced. “Your name is Linus and you’re asking me about Lake? Okay. Fair question. But you have to promise never to tell anyone. Not ever, even if you’re tortured and tempted to spill.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Yep. My entire name is Blossom Lake Marigold.”
Linus tried to stifle a laugh. “Blossom? The first thing that comes to mind is that character on that 90s TV show.”
“Duh. Exactly. My mother was a huge fan of that show.” Lake shook her head. “I don’t know what she was thinking. In my defense, she was a bit of a hippie back then before she realized that lifestyle didn’t put money in the bank. Back when I was born, her first thought wasn’t about money. That came later. At the time, she thought Blossom Lake was cute. Can you imagine going through life with people calling you Blossom? Do I look like a Blossom to you?”
“Not really. Kids must’ve teased you constantly.”
“They teased me enough with the name Lake. They never knew about Blossom. After my mother left us, my father had the foresight to go to court and change my name to something simpler. Because he started out as a fifth-grade teacher, he knew kids would crucify me to no end, so he did something about it. He was right. Kids found something else to tease me about.”
“Don’t they always? Does your dad still teach?”
“Sure. But he went to grad school at UC Santa Cruz, commuted like I did to get his doctorate, and became a mathematics professor at Cal Poly. He lives in San Luis Obispo with his new wife, Gillian, an English professor. Now your turn. Why Linus?”
He picked up his wine. “What can I say? Annette Canfield loved Peanuts, Snoopy, and Linus Van Pelt. There must be something weird about the generation of mothers who picked their kids’ names from TV shows.”
“You know, even when I didn’t go by Blossom, kids still made fun of my name,” Lake admitted. “Sometimes I had to stand my ground surrounded by bullies.”
“Same here. I bet I got into more playground fights defending my name than the norm.”
“Unusual first names. Something we have in common.” Lake picked up her wine glass and stared at the man sitting across the table. She could picture him in his dark blue paramedic outfit saving someone’s life. “How did you even decide you wanted to go the paramedic route?”
“I joined the Army right after high school. I wasn’t there five minutes before they decided for me that I would make a good medic. The military trained me, so when I got out after four years, it was the only thing I knew how to do.”
“You saw combat?”
“Yep. Afghanistan. Two tours. A messy, chaotic time in my life where I’ve seen and done things I never want to talk about. But I learned a lot about keeping a cool head under duress.” He looked past her into the sunroom, where the dogs had quieted down. “Do Jack and Scout always sleep downstairs?”
For some reason, Lake found herself bristling at the question. “You’re asking a single woman where her dogs sleep? That’s kind of personal. This is a big ol’ house that creaks and groans, especially at night.” When she saw a streak of mortification appear in his eyes, she grinned. “I’m just kidding you. They always sleep in my bedroom if not on the bed. I can’t imagine getting a decent night’s sleep without them.”