Page 3 of Hearts Like Hers

“Kate Carpenter. Yeah, I think so, too,” afemale voice answered. “Yeah, it definitely is. She still has a bandage on herarm.”

Kate walked on, allowing the comments to rolloff her, her eyes downcast to shield her face as much as possible.

“Hey, Kate, you’re a hero!” the male voicecalled after her.

She didn’t acknowledge him. Couldn’t. It hadbeen weeks since the night people started celebrating her, but it was like thistown was too small to allow her to move on, and she desperately needed to. In aplace where not much ever happened, something had, and the citizens clung toit, wringing free each and every awful detail of the fire with insatiable need.

She wasn’t a hero. Wasn’t even close.

It helped to get out of the house, whereshe’d been holed up for weeks now. The sunlight felt good on her face and thefresh air filled her lungs, making her remember its benefits. She also neededto be around people. If only they weren’tthesepeople, the ones who knew all about what happened. She’d made the mistake oftrying to grab a beer a couple nights back. She sat on the far side of the barand tried to keep to herself, which had proved to be an impossibility. Peopleclapped her on the back. Offered to buy her drinks, dinner. Needed to know justhow she was doing after it all. And how were those kids doing? Was the littlegirl in any better shape? When would she get out of the hospital? Were thereany plans that she knew of for what would happen to them? She left feeling sickto her stomach, looking for respite, and like she’d taken ten steps back. She’dgone home and stayed there another three days until she was gasping for airagain. Unsettled. Tormented. The people in town meant well. They thought theywere saying nice things, and she didn’t blame them. She was the one who wasbroken.

Kate made a sharp right into her brother’s storeon that sunny afternoon, grateful to leave the sidewalk that wound straightthrough the center of town. She loved the store and took a deep breath,enjoying the unmistakable smell: a mixture of coffee and books. Randy hadopened the bookstore, The Plot Thickens, three years ago, and though each daywas a struggle to stay afloat, the citizens of Slumberton worked to keep him inbusiness, stopping in to buy the occasional book just to do their part. She’dsay one thing for them: they looked after their own. Plus, everyone likedRandy. It was impossible not to, with his friendly disposition and vagueresemblance to Where’s Waldo.

“Whoa. Katie! Wasn’t expecting to see youtoday,” Randy said, beaming at the sight of her. “Coffee?”

“Sure. I’ll take a cup.” As he poured fromthe little stand set up in the corner, she thumbed through the new arrivals,grabbing up a handful of interesting-looking titles. She’d need them. He handedher the hot cardboard cup, the heat of which burned through to her skin withimpressive speed. She glanced around for a sleeve, but then this was abookstore.

“Want to grab some lunch?” Randy asked, withhis usual affable smile. He was a year and a half older than Kate and had theuncanny ability to cheer her up when it seemed like the world crept in on her.Had been that way since they were kids. Same hazel eyes as hers, same dark hairand olive skin. In their younger years, people used to mistake them for twins.Kate never minded. She’d always looked up to Randy and appreciated his kind heart.In that way, he was different from other men she knew. Their dad, the guys atthe station were all tougher, silent types. Randy was unique, a sensitive soul.

“Can’t do lunch.” She took a sip of coffeeand let it burn its way down her throat, the discomfort somehow satisfying. Itreminded her she still had a pulse, as gray as the world still seemed. “I’mheaded out of town for a little while and wanted to say good-bye.” She couldn’tlook at him when she said the words, the lump in her throat already forming.They hadn’t spent much time apart, and saying good-bye to him would be the onlydifficult part of her leaving.

He came around the counter, concern causinghis forehead to wrinkle like their dad’s. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I knew you werestruggling. But this is not at all—is this really what you want?”

She nodded. “I think it will be good. Grabsome breathing room for myself. Decompress. When I come back, I’ll be patchedup and ready to go again.” She deflated some, knowing how unlikely that nowseemed. She forced a ghost of a smile. “At least, that’s the goal.”

“For how long?” Randy asked.

“You know, I’m not sure. A month, maybe two.I have vacation time built up at work, and since they have me riding the deskanyway, this seems like a good time to put it to use.” Kate had joined theSlumberton Fire Department at twenty-three years old, and after nine years ofservice, had taken exactly one sick day: the day of their father’s funeral.

“So we’re talkingmonths? That’s a long time.” Randy sighedthe way people do when they’ve been dealt a blow. She felt bad about that.

“I know.”

He ran a hand through his fluffy hair. “Whereyou headed?”

“I’m thinking LA. Venice Beach maybe. I’vegot some prospects lined up on Airbnb that look halfway decent. I’ll startdriving and choose a place on the way.”

“My sister’s a nomad.”

“I like the sound of that. I’ll be homesoon.”

Randy nodded and smiled feebly. “Holding youto it. You’ll call if you need anything?”

“Of course.” She pulled him into a hug andheld on, the contact the only place she’d found comfort in weeks.

“And, Katie?”

“Yeah?”

“I hope this helps. I just want you to beokay, you know? You’re a good person. The best, really, and everyone herethinks so.”

She loved this book loving, coffee swillingdork. “Thanks, Randy. I’ll call when I’m settled.”

“You better, or I’ll be in Californiapounding on your door using Dad’s scary voice.”

She smiled. “And no one wants the scaryvoice. How much do I owe you for these?” she asked, gesturing to the books withher chin.

“Forget it. My going away gift.”

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