Page 64 of Playing With Fire

“I don’t have any idea if Ricky can join us, Silas,” Jodi said tightly. “I think it is safe to say that the online story came as an unpleasant surprise to him.”

There was a snort of laughter behind her, but when Jodi swung around May was typing into her computer and Dougie was frowning over a printout.

Silas chuckled. “I can only imagine.” His voice grew cool. “Hattie and I were surprised too, and disappointed. We expected better.”

Jodi’s mouth was dry. Fortunately, Silas didn’t expect a response. “So shall we say Friday night, after the community supper? I’ll...um...contact Ricky myself.”

“Fine!” Jodi knew she sounded too hearty. “See you then.”

She ended the call. Stared at the screen as though willing a message from Ricky to pop up. But there was still no reply, and to tell the truth, Jodi no longer expected one.

She was the Acting Editor, and so the mistake was her responsibility. But she was done apologizing. And she was done trying to fix everyone else’s problems.

Chapter Ten

Ricky’s phone buzzed just as he was grabbing his jacket to head out to meet the Caitens. A message popped up.

It was Silas asking him if he could drop around to the rectory after the community dinner. Ricky sent a brief thumbs up. Thirty seconds later, a text arrived from the community dinner coordinator, requesting a hot dish. He sent another thumbs up.

The drive to the retirement village was only ten minutes. Ricky knew it was going to be a tough conversation. And the burning question, the why-weren’t-you-there question, was one that he still couldn’t answer.

You knew that Chrissie was fragile. And you knew that she had fallen into a black hole and that she would never have the strength to climb out by herself.

Ricky had talked all this through with the therapist provided to emergency response personnel. They had discussed boundaries, survivor guilt, personal responsibility, trauma...every possible nuance in the sorry tale of a girl who died and the boy who wasn’t there.

Hadn’t helped a whole lot, Ricky had to admit. Not at first. Especially when he had headed straight back to Temple Mountain, their hometown. To the bittersweet memories of early love.

But the final words of the therapist, a veteran of Afghanistan who had turned his hand to working with damaged and traumatized paramedics, firefighters, and cops, had eventually seeped into Ricky’s wounded heart.

I can work with you for weeks, months, or years, Ricky. Help you get your head straight so you can do your job again and sleep at night. But the truth is that you didn’t walk away from that girl, you ran. And that’s because you knew how it was going to end. Badly. And although none of what happened to Chrissie was your fault because you aren’t God, you gotta own that guilt, that wound. Name it for what it is and then learn to live with it. And there’s a shitload more guilt coming your way, son, because you aren’t perfect, and life can be a cracker barrel full of pain. Because that’s what it is to be human.

Ricky’s mind was churning as he parked and headed up the path. He walked straight into the clutches of Bonnie Browning.

“Well, hello!” The curvy brunette was a little breathless, as though she’d sped out to reception as soon as she’d spotted the council utility truck.

“So sweet of you to come.” She steered him into her office and closed the door. “I’ve been beside myself.” She dabbed carefully at her fully made-up eyes with a tissue.

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