Flames
Flames
A round-robin novel by the authors of the Mansion, in honor of the heroes of September 11th, 2001.
Chapter Two
As they approached the wienie roast, Marisol saw a lean, slouching
figure just ahead, silhouetted against the leaping flames, and recognized it
instantly. She winced. Spanelli -- the last person she wanted to see. Despite
what Sarge had said, she wasn't in the mood to make nice to the moron.
Impulsively grabbing Jack's arm, she said, "Hey, Mountain Man. Are you game
for a change of plans?"
He looked down at her. For the first time, she noticed an appealing
lock of sandy blond hair flopping down over his forehead. "Could be. What did
you have in mind?"
"Let's go for a walk. Show me some of the wilderness you country folk
are always talking about."
He paused, then said, "Sure. Why not?"
He led her along the track, away from the bonfire. After they left the
high-school football field and crossed a meadow of scrubby grass, they neared
the woods, a dark, threatening mass. Marisol's heart beat faster. Had she
made a wise choice? She didn't know this man. Even worse, she didn't know the
woods. Weren't there bears in the forest?
On the other hand, she did know Spanelli. Maybe bears lived in this
forest, but there surely was a snake back at the campfire.
Besides, she trusted Jack Bennett. Overgrown Boy Scout that he was, he
radiated Truth, Justice and the American Way. Plus, he hung with Marcus, and
when she'd known him, Marcus hadn't hung with jerks or fools.
She kept walking, away from the blaze, into the dark unknown.
For the first time since that Tuesday morning when the world had
collapsed, Jack felt as though God had smiled. Exotic Marisol Benitez had
asked him to take a walk in the forest -- what were the odds on that? His
ecstatic mood deflated a trifle when he realized she couldn't know what her
invitation implied to him. Back at Somerset County Regional High School, a
girl asking a guy to walk with her in the woods was an invitation to nirvana.
Two people would leave the forest much happier than when they'd walked in.
He didn't know what Marisol's motives might be, but she'd made him
happy -- for now, at least.
Above them, the moon had yet to rise; the clear night sky revealed an
infinity of stars. The crisp air chilled his cheeks, and he wondered if
Marisol felt cold. Should he take her hand?
He glanced down at her, seeing the strong jaw, that set mouth and firm
chin. He decided that he could look, but he'd better not touch. She had
already shown she was as prickly as a hedgehog. If Marcus's attitude was any
measure, Our Lady of the Sun would just as soon punch him out as look at him.
They passed beneath the canopy of trees, as welcoming and familiar to
Jack as the pages of "Walden" or the savor of brandy on a cold evening. The
scents of the forest enveloped him: the sharpness of pine, spruce, and
hemlock; the tang of dried autumn leaves and grasses; the mustiness of duff
beneath his boots. This was a soft forest, he mused, compared to, say, the
midwinter evergreen woods of Maine, or the harsher lands further north.
He liked it.
Overlying it all was Marisol's fragrance, a feminine spice he didn't
recognize but was beginning to crave. He wondered what she thought of this
place. A pace or two ahead of him, she strode with the posture of someone on
a mission. Her body language didn't reflect a soul at peace taking an
enjoyable walk in the night woods. What was up with her, anyway?
On a sudden impulse, he reached for her shoulder. Damn, what did she
keep in there, gravel? The woman was as tense as a seventh-grader at her
first school dance. "Hey," Jack said. "Stop a minute."
"What? Why?"
"Just stop."
A living quiet filled the gap between them. First, the chirp of a
wakeful cicada. Then, the tiny, distant murmur of a stream. Judging by its
gentle rippling, Jack estimated it was a few hundred yards away.
Rustling, followed by the distinct crunch of breaking dry branches,
sent a shivery Marisol pressing to his side.
"What was that?" she whispered.
He shrugged, feigning casualness even though the sudden contact had
tripled his pulse rate. "Probably a raccoon. They're pretty busy at night."
After a moment, he slipped an arm around her waist. She didn't pull away, but
he could feel the tension in her muscles.
"It's not a, uh, a bear -- or a wolf?"
"A wolf?" He laughed. "Heck, no. What do you think this is, Wyoming? A
bear -- maybe. But a bear would be raiding the wienie roast. We're not a
black-bear menu item."
"Oh." Her body uncoiled, and she moved away. "Sorry."
"For what?"
"For behaving like such a baby. Believe me, I'm not like this in
Philly."
"You couldn't be, if you're a cop. I imagine you face down stuff there
that's a lot more scary than bears."
"But it's familiar stuff. Things I know how to deal with." She whirled
around at another rustle of leaves, then laughed in embarrassment. "God, how
can you stand living out here? It's so vast and unknown."
"Like the city is to me. I'm at home in places like this. Listen
another moment."
Again, the forest filled with the murmurs of the night. "Every sound
you hear is a life being lived," Jack told her quietly. "Human, insect,
skunk, fox, possum, raccoon -- they're all going about their business. They
forage, hunt, build homes, give birth, raise their young. The species
interact with each other, depend on each other. Every creature has its place
out here. Every life has meaning. That's why you became a cop, isn't it?"
"Yeah." She sounded surprised. "Is that why you became a firefighter?"
"Why else?"
"I thought guys like you carried shotguns so you could kill anything
that moves."
"Not me. That's why I stopped hunting and fishing. One day I caught a
trout, and as I watched it gasping on the bank, I -- just couldn't stand it.
To be the cause of such suffering -- to be the bringer of death ... I took
the hook out and let it go."
"Catch and release."
"You fish?" Maybe she's not the average city slicker, he thought.
"Nah. But my brother Enrique does. Surf-casting, off the beach in
Jersey."
"You come from a big family?"
"Three brothers, that's all."
"That explains it."
"Explains what?" she demanded, bristling.
"Never mind." He couldn't repress his grin, was glad the darkness hid
his expression.
"What about you?"
"What about me what?"
"You have brothers or sisters?"
"No. It's just me and my mom. My dad died a few years back."
"I'm sorry." She paused. "My father's sick," she said, the words
rushing out of her mouth as though she couldn't stop them.
Her vulnerability made her even more appealing. Now he knew she had a
heart under that tough hide. "I heard you tell Marcus. Is it serious?"
She was still walking; she reached to pull a leaf from a bush, twisted
it in her fingers. "Kidney problems. Pretty serious. He -- he was on the
force, too. For 35 years."
"Your brothers -- are they cops?"
She let out a strange little grunt. "Not likely."
Jack considered pursuing that, but decided against it. "Anyway. Catch
and release," he said, returning to the topic. "I don't like to do that,
either. Not anymore. I keep imagining the traumatized trout having to get
psychotherapy from a finny Dr. Freud."
When she laughed, he figured he could make a move on her. Not a big
move; instinct told him that inside the uptight exterior of Our Lady of the
Sun lurked an equally uptight interior. She'd prefer to take it slow -- if at
all.
He reached for her hand, and found her fingers stiff with cold. "You
can put this in my pocket if you want."
"I can put my hands in my own pockets." Her voice was as cool as the
night air.
"But that's not as fun."
A moment passed before she laughed again. "Right you are. Let's try
this." Sliding her right hand around his back, she stuck it into the right
pocket of his coat, and her left hand into the left pocket.
Whoa. He hadn't figured on this. Now they were close, very close, with
one of her arms wrapped around him. The position more or less forced Jack to
drape his arm over her shoulders. Though their clothes prevented any
flesh-to-flesh contact, Jack felt steamier than he had in years. This was
pretty much the sexiest thing any female had done to him since he'd taken his
last walk in the woods in high school.
"Ready to go back?" she asked.
Damn, he thought with regret. "I guess. Getting hungry?"
"A little."
"I'll roast you that hot dog I promised." He put his right hand into
the same pocket with hers, and laced their fingers together.
They walked quietly back through the woods, with her warm body tucked
comfortably against his. He sensed her relaxed muscles and tried to fall in
with her mood, but damn, it was hard. She did something to him that he'd
missed in his relationship with Jan. Jan's excessive, driven partying
bothered him, but beyond that, something had been lacking in her, something
as alive and vital as the forest at night.
Marisol had that something, and she brought it out in him.
As they approached the campfire, her body tensed anew. "What is it?" he
asked.
Stopping, she stared up at him. The flames reflected in her dark eyes;
red and gold shifting, flickering off her elegant cheekbones. "I have a big
favor to ask."
"Anything," he said, and meant it.
"Can you stay close to me?"
Yes, God was smiling on him tonight. He chuckled and squeezed her
tight. "I can't get much closer than this, unless you want to engage in acts
that are illegal in public."
"No. I mean -- " She hesitated, took a breath. "The thing is -- there's
this guy in my unit. He keeps giving me a hard time, but my sergeant refuses
to do anything about it."
Jack beat down a surge of disappointment, sought to sound professional.
"Sexual harassment? It's your boss's obligation to--"
"There's a big difference between what people are supposed to do and
what they choose to do. I don't want to make more waves right now. If I shut
up, I could get promoted out of my unit by making detective pretty soon. If I
cause trouble, things will only get worse."
"Well, that sucks."
"That's life." The harshness in her tone pained him. He wanted to
tighten his arm around her, but had the feeling she might bolt.
"What can I do to help?" he asked instead.
"You can pretend, just a little bit."
"Pretend what?" He released her, and she stepped away.
"Pretend we're -- you know, together. Then when Spanelli rags on me, I
can tell him -- look, I'm with someone else."
His stomach lurched. So their cozy walk in the woods had been nothing
but manipulation on her part. She'd needed a beard, and she'd chosen him --
most likely because she'd been certain he'd prove chivalrous. Sure, go for
the country hick; he'd be an easy mark. That wasn't a pretty thought. Not at
all.
So Marisol Benitez was just another user. Uptight and devious -- a
typical city career woman. He should have guessed she had an ulterior motive.
Well, what the hell. He could play games as well as the next guy, even
if the name of the game was "Human Shield." And he wouldn't mind getting
close to Marisol, even if the intimacy was phony and the proximity only
physical. Yeah, that could be all right -- maybe even better than all right.
He drew her in tight and looked down at her. She looked back, her
deceptive eyes gleaming in the firelight.
"So you want to pretend we're together," he said. "You and me."
She sucked in a breath. "Yes. If you don't mind. It's nothing personal.
I mean, it's just that -- " She broke off abruptly, staring up at him.
He'd run a finger along her hairline, starting at her forehead. The
pulse in her temple beat hard and fast. He continued down the side of her
face, tracing her cheekbones, then her strong and beautiful jaw. He lifted
her chin, setting her lush, full mouth into the perfect position for his
kiss.
He bent his head and murmured, "Since it's all just for show, does that
mean I can do this?"
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