Rekindled Heat Ch. 02

"Don't be sorry. I'm always glad to see you." She took a deep breath, not sure what to say.

"Could you help me with the groceries? I was planning on making lasagna."

"Of course. They're in your car?"

"Yup." They retrieved the brown bags from the trunk of her car and she began unpacking and preparing the dinner, while her father watched and tried to make small talk.

It was painfully obvious that their once strong bond was so strained that even normal conversation was difficult. Still, they tried, and slowly they got more comfortable. It was as Rachel was putting the lasagna into the oven that her dad cleared his throat. She looked over at him, trying to figure out what it is he wanted to say.

After a long pause, he cleared his throat again. "Honey, I've been thinking. . ." She frowned. In her experience, no good news ever followed that opening.

"Yeah, dad?"

"I saw this townhouse over on Hyacinth. It's smaller than the house, but this place is too big for me anyway. But I was thinking, you don't really come home anymore, except to visit me, and-"

"Dad, are you selling the house?"

"Er- I- I'm thinking about it, Rach." She took a deep breath, struggling to keep her face neutral. After all, he was right – she didn't come home much anymore. But something inside rebelled at the thought of selling the home she'd grown up in, where she had some of her best memories of her mother.

"But if you don't want me to . . ." He offered, looking so uncertain she couldn't bring herself to oppose him.

"No, I- I guess, you're right. But- are you sure? I mean. . . I grew up here."

He sighed, and suddenly he looked older than his fifty-two years. "I know you did, sweetheart. But sometimes the memories just- they're too much, sometimes."

Unable to speak, she nodded mutely. She knew what he meant. Sometimes the past was so strong here that it overtook her. But the good memories were here, too, weren't they? How could her father just throw that away?

"Dad, I guess . . . if you want to sell the house, then I'm okay with it. But just . . . be sure, okay? Be positive you want to sell it before you do."

He nodded, and she could see the relief in his face. "Of course, honey." There was an awkward silence as she chopped the lettuce for salad, adding it to a bowl with tomatoes already in it.

"Well, Cooper said to say hi. You know, he's working at Macpherson's this summer."

The mention of his honorary son always made Jackson Durand happy.

"Really? I always knew that boy would make a great mechanic. Even if he does want to be a- what did you say he chose?"

"Medicine. He's torn between neurologist and pediatrician."

Her father laughed, a loud, full sound that reminded her of her childhood. He rarely laughed like that anymore, not since Mom died.

"He always was funny like that. Interested in such different things."

She smiled. Cooper had always had a unique set of hobbies; as a kid, he'd wanted to be either a police officer or an architect. She'd teased him about it, but he insisted she was jealous because she was so normal.

"Yeah. But he's hoping to get an internship at Mercy."

Their conversation went like that, her trying to steer them towards safe topics, him following her lead dutifully, as she finished making dinner and dished it out. At his suggestion, they ate in front of the TV, watching some football game. She was almost relieved, because that meant her attempts at talking were unnecessary, and she left him watching the game as she started the dishes. By the time she was done, he had fallen asleep, remote in hand, in his favorite chair.

Looking at him, she smiled, remembering the many times he'd done just that over the years. Shaking away her thoughts, she turned off the TV and dimmed the lights, then quietly locked the front door behind her. As she got into her car, she hesitated, halfway wanting to run inside and insist that he keep the house. But she knew that he couldn't deal with the memories; the good ones hurt because they were gone, and the bad ones hurt because they had happened. Rachel had always focused on the happy memories, but she had learned long ago that her father couldn't. That was why the trash was full of beer bottles, the yard was unkempt, and the house was falling into disrepair. She blinked away tears as she drove back to campus, smiling softly as rain began to fall.

*****

"Hey, Hellen." The blonde woman loading the dishwasher looked up and smiled at the sight of Hunter in the doorway. She'd known him from the time he'd been a small child, and he could always make her smile.

"Hunter! I've missed you, dear." He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, and she laughed. "You're so tall! Are you done growing yet?" He grinned at her, a youthful expression full of mischievous glee.

"Maybe. It's those veggies you forced down my throat all those years." He teased, leaning against the counter.

"How have you been? Is school going well?"

"I'm good. Schools busy but good, too. How's everything here?"

"Your mother had another one of her episodes yesterday. It seems the designer didn't get the right shade for the new sitting room, and, well. . ." She frowned, but she didn't seem too concerned. His mother was a perfectionist, and used to getting her way. Every few weeks or so, she'd find something to throw a fit about, working herself into a frenzy. Hunter figured it was for the attention, but he'd never shared that theory with anyone.

"Poor man. We should pay him anyway, for dealing with her."

"Hunter Gallagher! That's your mother!" she scolded half-heartedly. Hellen had been the head chef for the Gallaghers for seventeen years, and she had gotten used to her bosses tantrums. But she couldn't admonish Hunter too harshly; she had always thought that he deserved a much better mother than Eileen Gallagher. The woman cared more about her little projects and her society functions than she ever had her son, and Hellen disliked her for that, knowing what a good person he had become.

He grinned sheepishly. "Yeah, well. How's Richard?"

"Elated. Apparently he closed a big deal today."

"Actually, I came here to talk to him. Do you know where he is?"

"I believe he's at the office. But, Hunter, he said he doesn't want to be disturbed-"

"Don't worry. I was going to talk to him if he was here, but it's no big deal."

"Oh. Well, would you like me to heat you up something? There's plenty-"

"No, thanks. I already ate."

"Your mother wanted me to tell you she wants you at the Lancette event." He gave a noncommittal grunt, and she shot him a look. "It's in two weeks. You'd better have a plus one by now."

"Why? I can find someone the day before if I have to."

She sighed, exasperated at his typical male ignorance of society rituals. "No, you can't. She'll need time to get a dress, and get to know the other women attending, and-"

He laughed. "This is California, Hellen. These things aren't so formal here."

"They're formal enough, Hunter. You know that. I'm sure you have someone in mind. Whoever she is, ask her soon."

"Who says it's a her?" he joked, laughing as she swatted him on his way out.

He slipped into his truck, jacking the music up loud. Seeing Hellen always cheered him up – the woman had practically raised him. She was certainly more of a mother to him than Eileen Gallagher. At a red light, he glanced at his phone, thinking. He knew he should call Rachel to set up another tutoring session. It actually hadn't been as bad as he'd expected; he'd used each and every opportunity she gave him to tease her. She made it so easy, and her reactions were so fiery he couldn't help but spur her on more. Telling himself to get over it, wondering why it was so difficult, he dialed her number.

"Tomorrow, same place, at eleven." She started to stutter out a response, but he hung up. If she could get under his skin and refuse to leave, well, two could play that game.