Page 9 of Fire Harbor
As they made their way out of the store, Linus sighed, scratching his head thoughtfully. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’m feeding Farley the wrong food. Sometimes he does turn up his nose at his dish.”
“That doesn’t sound like either of mine. They both lick the dish clean and look at me like, ‘Don’t I get more?’ Tell you what, I’ll give you a sample bag of the stuff I order and see if Farley likes it as much as Jack and Scout do.”
“Okay. It’s just that I see other puppies all over town, and they don’t chew on things the way Farley does. And you say you don’t have that problem with Scout, and she came from the same litter.”
“Who knows? Maybe changing his diet and socializing more with other dogs will help Farley relax and feel less anxious when he’s left alone. Sometimes, all it takes is the right companion to change their personality. Doesn’t he get plenty of socializing at doggie daycare, though?”
“Not really. Ellie says he doesn’t always do well with the other dogs. Sometimes he stays in his kennel while the others go outside and play.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. I guess we’ll see how he interacts with Scout and Jack. Bring him with you tonight when you pick up the books.”
“I was already planning to do that versus leaving him home alone. Let’s grab your bike and I’ll drop you at the house.”
After loading up her bicycle, the two added their groceries into the backseat with Farley sniffing each bag of goodies.
She pulled the seatbelt around her as Linus backed out of the parking lot and turned down Beach Street. The sun was starting to set, creating shade across the neighboring lawns.
The engine hummed softly as he maneuvered the pickup along the familiar streets. The rhythmic whirring of the tires on the concrete mirrored the beat of Lake’s restless heart.
For three long years—ever since noticing him at the bank one afternoon during her lunch hour—she’d tried everything she knew to get him to ask her out, even flirting with him at the library. At least, she thought she’d been flirting. Nothing she did seemed to work, which told her she was terrible at role-playing a seductress or trying to be any type of femme fatale. Or maybe, he just wasn’t attracted to her.
But she was here now, sitting in his pickup. Her gaze lingered on Linus, tracing his strong jawline and tousled light brown hair, her mind filled with a variety of hopeful possibilities. For so long, she had played the silent spectator, stealing glances from behind her desk at the library, dreaming of a love story that seemed to exist only in her imagination.
As they passed by rows of bungalows with blooming flower beds, Lake’s mind drifted to the countless conversations she had rehearsed in her head. She imagined each word she longed to say, planning meticulously for the day when Linus would finally notice her. Yet, time and again, her courage faltered at the last moment, leaving her tongue-tied and flustered.
Tonight, however, everything felt different. Wisps of courage coursed through her veins, emboldening her spirit. After all, she was sitting beside him in his pickup. She refused to let another day pass without taking this opportunity and running with it. Gathering her resolve, Lake steadied herself and mustered the strength to speak up.
“I love springtime,” she said. “It’s my favorite time of year. The days get longer, which means more time to spend outside doing the things I love.”
“Your front yard tells me you like to garden. Me? I kill every plant I come in contact with.”
“You just have to read up on how to take care of certain plants,” Lake reasoned. “Every plant requires something different. And I’m surrounded by a library full of gardening books, which helps. You don’t read much, do you?”
Linus frowned, an eyebrow arching in question. Sparing her a sideways glance, taking his eyes off the road, he corrected her. “What are you talking about? I love to read. Why do you say that?”
“Because you hardly ever come into the library and check out books.”
“I’m there at least once a month,” Linus insisted, not wanting to admit that coming in more often than that would certainly have given away how he felt about her, which he realized now was sort of dumb. “I come in as often as I can. When I’m not working, I’m always on call.”
“There’s a shortage of paramedics,” Lake interjected. “There was an article in the newspaper about it.”
Linus nodded, weariness in his eyes. “Yeah, it’s been a challenging time for us. The demand keeps growing, and we’re constantly stretched too thin. But I love what I do. I like to think I make a difference.”
Lake’s admiration deepened. She realized that beneath his stoic exterior, there was a compassion that fueled his work. Suddenly, her insecurities about her own unrequited feelings seemed insignificant. “I can’t imagine the pressure you must face,” she said softly.
Linus grinned. “Sometimes it feels like the weight of the world is on our shoulders, and no one appreciates what we do. Take this afternoon, for example. I found human remains at an accident site near that old bridge south of town. The bones had nothing to do with why we were called out to the scene. I followed procedure and called the sheriff’s department to come out, but when the deputy arrived, did he listen to what I had to say? Not at all. He shooed me off the beach like I had no right to an opinion or a theory.”
“They didn’t want your input. Why on earth not?”
“We’re supposed to leave the investigations to law enforcement and hope they don’t botch the evidence. That includes car accidents, too. And believe me, I’ve seen plenty of times they didn’t even get their measurements right on a routine traffic accident. That comes up in court sometimes. It bothers me they could mess this up the same way.”
“The area around that bridge is beautiful. But it can be downright spooky at night. I know because I used to drive over it almost every day, commuting to UC Santa Cruz. I still hear stories about strange encounters. Every woman I know avoids crossing that bridge, especially in the evenings. There are all kinds of stories about the area being haunted.”
Linus nodded. “I’ve heard the nurses at the hospital say the same thing. Do you believe in ghost stories?”
“I believe in ghosts,” she stated. “Everybody knows that Scott Phillips was killed in Iraq, but people still see him around Pelican Pointe. How do you explain that?”
“I can’t.” Linus pulled up into the driveway at Lake’s house and started to open the door to help her with the bike.