Embracing Today, a firefighter romance: (The Trading Yesterday Series, #3) - Kahlen Aymes (old books to read .TXT) 📗

“Bring her here,” the gruff voice I recognized from the brief phone conversation commanded from the back of the room.

Apollo nodded in her direction, and ushered me forward, dropping my bag at the door.

“Ma, Princess. Princess, Ma.”

The woman didn’t look well. Her grey hair was uncombed, and her skin was a sallow yellow shade, her eyes bloodshot and watery. She was super skinny, and her clothes were rumpled, mismatched and large for her.

“Hello, Mrs. Stanton. I’m so sorry about your…Carter. My name is Marin,” I corrected Apollo’s sarcastic introduction.

The dark eyes that the woman shared with Carter and Apollo, studied me. The other people crammed into the room were a mixture of ages, young and old, but they all stared at me expectantly. The inside of the house was just as junky as the outside and I felt sorry for Carter for the first time, ever. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said, to everyone in the room.

“You want something to eat?” Mrs. Stanton asked. My upbringing demanded I address her in a formal way until such a time she instructed otherwise. I didn’t think that would happen; ever.

“No, thank you; I’m okay.” The trip was long, and I hadn’t had anything other than nuts on the plane, but I had no appetite. I yearned for a hot bath and the bed at the hotel.

“Come over here. Sit beside me.” The old woman’s eyes followed me as I moved closer, and the dark-haired young woman sitting next to her moved to let me take her chair. She seemed much older than I’d imagined that she’d be. He was only twenty-eight, but this woman seemed to be close to seventy. Maybe it was the effects of a very hard life that had aged her beyond her years. Her teeth were black, some of them missing. Her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in quite some time.

I swallowed hard at the lump of distaste forming in my throat. “Thank you,” I said in acknowledgement, moving cautiously through the room. She only nodded, wide-eyed.

As I sat down next to Carter’s mother; a sour, sweaty smell assaulted my nostrils. I felt sorry for the woman, and for the entire family. The house was a mess, and it reeked.

“Tell me how my son died.”

I closed my eyes and my face fell. This was the last thing I wanted to recount. She reached for my hand and I let her take it. I could see the pain behind her watery eyes, even as she exuded a hardened demeanor.

“It was an accident at my Uncle’s mechanic shop where he was working. A lantern was accidentally knocked over and the grease and oil caught on fire.”

“Why was he using a lantern? Are things so backwoods out there that you have no lights?”

“We do, but there was a thunderstorm. The electricity was out.”

“Did you see it happen?”

My heart felt like it would explode. Surely, the woman must feel my pulse raging in the hand she held. Tears filled my eyes at the memory, I wanted to spare her that vision. “I did. I’m so sorry.”

“The mortician wouldn’t let me see my son’s body. Said he was fried to a crisp.” The woman didn’t seem as emotional as me.

I cleared my throat in an attempt to void the emotion. “I didn’t see him after. I’m so sorry.”

Her eyes narrowed menacingly. “How did you manage to get out without a scratch?”

I wanted to tell her I wasn’t unscathed, but the fading bruises on my face and my cracked ribs weren’t from the fire. Only the bandaged knees. “I was hurt, but I managed to get out. I was closer to the door than Carter was. The bays were all closed because he was working after hours.”

“You didn’t try to save him?” Her hand squeezed mine painfully, and I pulled it back with a jerk.

I could feel my skin start to burn on my face and neck. I was sure I was turning bright red. I shook my head. “Unfortunately, his clothes caught on fire right away. I ran to get help, but my car was close to the flame. I had to run—” Like I wanted to run, right now. Tears started in my eyes, more because I feared for my safety than any sadness over Carter. He’d been a monster to me those last months.

“What was the—?”

“Ma, leave her alone,” Apollo stated from across the room. “What’s done is done.”

The woman’s head snapped around in the direction of his voice, then a few seconds later she turned her attention back to me.

“It was your uncle’s shop, eh?” she wanted to know.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well,” Her disposition suddenly shifted, and she pushed out of the old, upholstered chair she’d been sitting in. It was an old style and appeared to be a faded cream and red floral pattern, but now was yellowed and filthy. “I need a new dress for tomorrow as do Apollo’s girlfriend and my daughters. My son needs a new suit, too, so we’re going to the mall, and you’re buying.”

I gasped, completely taken by surprise. “Mrs. Stanton, I’m not rich. I don’t have a lot of money.”

“Bullshit. You have that business, don’t cha?”

“It hasn’t been doing well the past few months since my uncle passed,” I replied honestly.

“Well, don’t tell me there isn’t insurance money from the fire, and you know… maybe we oughta get it.” Her eyes narrowed menacingly. “My son died!”

Didn’t her son mean anything to her? Was his death and my presence here, only about getting a pay day?

“I-I don’t have any of the insurance money yet,” I stammered. “The fire department is still investigating the cause of the fire, but I’m sure if there is a payout, there could be something for Carter. I can call them on Monday to ask, but I’m sure nothing will be paid until the investigation is completed. I don’t have any money right now.” I could literally feal the waver