Page 2 of Sparks with the Firefighter

"Not by yourself."

"Whatever, Dad lets me be outside anytime I want when I’m at his house."

I ignore the sting. "I only have one more appointment on the books and it's Rei. You can come pet her when she gets here."

He turns for the back room, but not before he rolls his eyes at me. He stomps hard enough that the little bell on the counter rings once, all on its own.

Someday he will understand and things won’t be this hard.

Half an hour later I've got Rei on my table. She’s howling like I'm attempting a murder.

"You're a liar," I tell her. She howls louder, throwing her head back, giving me the whole husky opera. "You are a liar even if everyone in this town believes you. No one is hurting you right now."

A week of swimming in the lagoon has turned Rei’s undercoat to felt. It comes off in gray-and-white clouds that drift up and stick to my forearms, my apron, the inside of my nose. The dryer roars. Rei sings along with it. Then I flip the switch, and in the sudden quiet she leans her whole eighty pounds into my chest. She licks my chin like we've been through something together and I can’t help but laugh.

"Yeah, yeah. I know you love me." I scratch behind her ears. "Drew, come say hi to Rei. She's feeling better."

No answer. I brush Rei’s coat and give her a little treat as a peace offering.

"Drew," I call again.

He’s really amping up the silent treatment this time. I put a bow on Rei’s neck and roll my chair back. The entirety of the back room comes into view.

It’s empty.

There’s a granola bar wrapper on the floor, a chair pushed out at an angle, and the side door to the alley standing open eight inches. A stripe of daylight lies across the tile like something spilled and it takes me a minute to catch up.

"Drew!"

I get Rei in a kennel, latch it, check the latch, and check it again. Then I'm out on the sidewalk with my apron still on and my hands still wet.

The street tips downhill toward the water. The trail cuts off at the second alley. But Drew is eight going on eighteen. He doesn't wander. Drew goes toward things. There are only three options, the dog tied outside the hardware store, the coffee shop, or the firehouse.

The hardware store hitching post is empty and the lead's gone with it. I press on.

The silver bell over the door at Lumberjills nearly comes off its bracket when I shove it open. The place smells like espresso and warm sugar. It’s much too calm for the chaos moving through me. Jules looks up from the machine with her whole face already arranged into welcome.

"Vivien! Perfect. Sit down, I want to talk to you about Lumberjack Days, I⁠—"

"I'm looking for—" My eyes go over the booths. Two loggers. An older woman with a crossword. No small boy. "Jules⁠—"

She continues, unbothered by my sense of urgency. "Our planning meeting isn't until next week, I know that, but honest to God, if I can get five minutes of your time." She's still steaming milk, the pitcher screaming under her hand. "I had a few thoughts. Just a few. Three, maybe four thoughts."

"Jules." My voice comes out flat and strange, and I don't recognize it as mine. "I'm not here for that right now. Have you seen my kid?"

Everything stops. She sets the pitcher down on the counter, hard.

"Drew, yes. Yes. Of course." She's already pointing with two fingers, past the wall, toward the bay doors. "I made him a lemonade and he went next door. Twenty minutes ago, with a dog on a lead. I didn’t recognize the dog, but you know we’ve got so many new people moving in these days. I suppose it could belong to anyone. But Drew, yes, he's been next door the whole⁠—"

"Thank you." I'm at the door before she finishes the sentence. My hands are shaking now, which is the order these things always seem to happen in.

"Vivien." Jules says my name in the voice that stops people.

It stops me, one hand flat on the glass and I turn back to look at her.

"Come back after you grab him. I'll have a coffee ready for you."

"Thank you."