Fireworks Over Fairfield

  Fireworks Over Fairfield

  Fairfield Series

  Maryann Jordan

  Contents

  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  Author Information

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Fireworks Over Fairfield (A Fairfield Series Novella)

  Copyright 2015 Maryann Jordan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editor: Shannon Brandee Eversoll

  ISBN: 978-0-9968010-0-3

  This novella is devoted to my readers and fans. When I first wrote Emma’s Home and Laurie’s Time, so many readers contacted me to see if I was going to write Brock and Jean’s story. At the time, I was moving on to Carol’s Image and then the Love’s Series. When I was asked to write for this anthology, I knew that it was my chance to give back to my readers’ requests and give them Brock and Jean…plus a chance to reconnect with the wonderful characters of Fairfield.

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, I have to thank my husband, Michael. Always believing in me and wanting me to pursue my dreams, this book would not be possible without his support. To my daughters, MaryBeth and Nicole, I taught you to follow your dreams and now it is time for me to take my own advice. You two are my inspiration.

  My best friend, Tammie, who for eighteen years has been with me through thick and thin. You’ve filled the role of confidant, supporter, and sister.

  My dear friend, Myckel Anne, who keeps me on track, keeps me grounded, and most of all – keeps my secrets. Thank you for not only being my proofreader and my Marketing PA, but also my friend.

  Going from blogger to author has allowed me to have the friendship and advice of several wonderful authors who always answered my questions, helped me over rough spots, and cheered me on. To Kristine Raymond, you gave me the green light when I wondered if I was crazy and you never let me give up. MJ Nightingale and Andrea Michelle – you two have made a huge impact on my life. EJ Shorthall, Victoria Brock, Jen Andrews, Andrea Long, A.d. Ellis, ML Steinbrunn, Sandee Love, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  My beta readers kept me sane, cheered me on, found all my silly errors, and often helped me understand my characters through their eyes. A huge thank you to Denise, Sandi, Barbara, Jennifer, Danielle, Shannon, Leeann, Tracey, Lynn, Stracey, and Angela for being my beta girls who love alphas!

  Shannon Brandee Eversoll as my editor and Myckel Anne Phillips as my proofreader gave their time and talents to making Love’s Taming as well written as it can be.

  My street team, Jordan Jewels, you all are amazing! You volunteer your time to promote my books and I cannot thank you enough! I hope you will stay with me, because I have lots more stories inside, just waiting to be written!

  My Personal Assistant Barbara Martoncik keeps me going when I feel overwhelmed and I am so grateful for not only her assistance, but her friendship.

  Most importantly, thank you readers. You allow me into your home for a few hours as you disappear into my characters and you support me as I follow my indie author dreams.

  Author Information

  I am an avid reader of romance novels, often joking that I cut my teeth on the historical romances. I have been reading and reviewing for years. In 2013, I finally gave into the characters in my head, screaming for their story to be told. From these musings, my first novel, Emma’s Home, The Fairfield Series was born.

  I was a high school counselor having worked in education for thirty years. I live in Virginia, having also lived in four states and two foreign countries. I have been married to a wonderfully patient man for thirty-five years. When writing, my dog or one of my four cats can generally be found in the same room if not on my lap.

  Please take the time to leave a review of this book (on Goodreads, Amazon).

  Feel free to contact me, especially if you enjoyed my book. I love to hear from readers!

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  Chapter One

  The brisk March winds were still blowing as Brock came in from his morning run. He loved the feel of his muscles warming first thing every morning as his heart pounded to the rhythm of his feet. Coming out of the path from the woods into the clearing near the drill field, he saw the new recruits straggling along, trying to keep up with their Drill Sergeants. One of the Sergeants glanced over at him, a slight nod the only sign of breaking the formation. Brock smiled as he slowed his pace to allow his body to cool off. He had been a part of those early morning runs for over twenty years and now…even though he could lie in bed as long as he would like, old habits were hard to break.

  He jogged over to his truck where he did the final stretches. A few more twinges were felt as he ruefully thought of his age. Forty-five was not old…but then he sure as hell was not a young recruit anymore. But that was all right. With age came wisdom…or so he had told himself over and over the years.

  Arriving back at his apartment, he took a quick shower before throwing on his jeans and a faded Army t-shirt. As he walked down the hall toward his kitchen, he glanced at the photographs along the wall. The pictures were mostly of him and his soldier buddies over the years—from young, idealistic recruits to serving in Desert Shield to Desert Storm to leading young men through their boot camps here at the base. These men over the years had been his family, since his parents and younger sister had all passed away. As his eyes moved along the picture frames he realized how many of his friends had died as well.

  There were times such as now, when the realization that he was alone struck him. The only friends he had were still on the base and much younger than he was. He had never married and the occasional woman from a bar served his baser needs and quite frankly, that had slowed down as well. Hell, I’m only forty-five years old, not ancient and certainly not dead. But lately, he had to admit to himself, that a morose feeling of life having passed him by had begun to creep into his consciousness.

  Sucking in a deep breath, he stretched his back as he stood a little taller staring into the faces of those who had gone before him. Giving himself a mental shake, he moved into the neat kitchen and started the coffee pot.

  Pouring a cup of coffee, he was surprised to hear a knock at the door. Not one to get many visitors he hoped it was not someone selling something. He hated being rude but his life was simple. Walking over, he opened the door and looked into the eyes of a large, handsome young man. Dark hair neatly trimmed, but not trimmed enough to make him a soldier. Blue eyes, with a wary look in them, that were staring directly into his.

  “Can I help you?” Brock asked.

  Without hesitation the young man introduced himself. “I’m Rob MacDonald. I’m looking for Brock Sinclair.”

  “I’m Brock. What can I do for you?”

  The young man seemed to hesitate as though weighing his words carefully. “Mr. Sinclair, I’m looking for a Brock Sinclair, who was in the Army on leave in July, twenty-five ye
ars ago in the Richmond area.”

  At this, Brock’s eyes narrowed in suspicion wondering what the young man was searching for. “Well now, that’s a very specific description of someone. I think perhaps I might need to know why you’re looking for that person before we continue this conversation.”

  Rob nodded, “Fair enough, sir.” Taking a big breath, Rob continued. “The man I’m lookin’ for met a beautiful young woman and spent one night with her. I don’t know what happened the next mornin’, but nine months later that young woman gave birth to an equally beautiful daughter. A daughter with grey eyes.”

  Brock’s eyes opened wide at this point. He carefully considered Rob, weighing his story. Stepping backward, he motioned for Rob. “I think perhaps you should come in.”

  Stepping into the apartment, Rob noticed right away that it was neat and clean. The walls, covered in pictures, depicted mostly photographs of young soldiers.

  Brock looked at where Rob’s attention lay. “Twenty-four years in the Army; I suppose these men I served with over the years are my family. Started out in Desert Storm, did tours in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as trained many young soldiers right here at the base.”

  Offering Rob a seat, he stated, “But it seems you aren’t here to look at my military memorabilia.”

  “No sir, although I am in awe of your service.”

  Brock just nodded as he sat across from Rob. “So I take it you’re here because you think that I’m the father of the girl you speak of.”

  “My friend was raised by her single mother, who gave birth to her when she was only sixteen.”

  Brock’s startled expression gave away he had no idea how young Sarah had been at the time.

  “It appears that she and a friend went out one night and she met a young soldier named Brock. According to her, she fell in love that night and spent the night with him. Nine months later she gave birth to a daughter. She told her parents that she didn’t know the name of the young man. She and her daughter lived with her parents and sister. According to what I have been told by my girlfriend, they had a happy home, and she had a good childhood. Her grandfather died, and for a while it was just the four women in the home.”

  Rob had been staring at Brock during his tale hoping for some facial recognition, but so far Brock simply sat and listened quietly. “When my friend was twelve years old, her mother and grandmother were killed in a car accident. She was raised by her aunt. They’re very close, and again, she and her aunt were happy together. When she was eighteen, there was a gift that her mother had left boxed up for her to open when she became an adult. Inside, it contained an Army T-shirt, with the name-tag Brock T. Sinclair. Her mother’s letter said that she kept the shirt because she wanted a memory of the man she fell in love with, but that she knew she was only a one-night stand to him.”

  Brock stood suddenly. “What was the girl’s name?” he asked shakily.

  Rob pulled out the photograph that Laurie had placed on their end table. Turning it around to face Brock, he said simply, “Sarah.”

  Brock fell back heavily in the chair, his hand reaching out for the picture. “Sarah,” he whispered.

  Rob sat quietly, letting Brock absorb the information that had avalanched onto him. Brock stared at the picture for a long time, his fingers slowly tracing the faces in front of him. Finally he spoke. “We had a daughter. A daughter. I never knew.” He looked up into Rob’s face, seeing compassion.

  Rob gently said, “Her name is Laurie. Laurie Dodd. She’s a first grade teacher in Fairfield.” Smiling, he continued, “She’s smart, funny, beautiful, hardworkin’, compassionate—everything that’s good and loving.”

  Brock looked over at Rob with interest. “And you’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

  Rob stared back, eye to eye, man to man and responded, “Yes sir, I am. That’s why I’m here. She has no idea I’m doin’ this. She always claimed that there was no need to find someone who considered her mother a fling. She said she didn’t miss what she never had.”

  Brock hung his head at this. Looking back up at Rob he said, “I assure you that she was not a fling.” He spent the next half hour telling Rob the story of meeting Sarah, falling in love with her in one night and then losing her the next morning.

  Rob listened attentively, knowing that Laurie would want to know this. Her dad loved her mom. This completely changes her life story. This could change her life.

  Finally Brock asked, “Why now, Rob? Why did you decide to search me out now?”

  “She’s become ill. She goes to the rheumatologist next week, and I know they want a family history. Maybe there isn’t one thing you can tell us, but I had to try to find out.” He hesitated again. “Mr. Sinclair, she’ll not be happy at all that I’ve found you. I went behind her back, but I’d do anything to help her.”

  “Then you’re a good man. And she’ll recognize that even if she’s upset at first.” Grey eyes meeting blue ones, Brock said, “And call me Brock. It looks as though we’re going to be getting to know quite a lot about each other. So what now?”

  “Well, if you just happen to make a visit down to Fairfield sometime, then I guess we’ll figure out how you can meet. I just don’t know how in the hell I’m going to bring this together.”

  Brock and Rob exchanged phone numbers and email addresses before Rob headed back home. At the door, Brock shook his hand, thanking him.

  “Brock, I know this information changes everything for you, but it can make all the difference to Laurie as well.” With a final handshake, he headed back to his truck.

  Brock shut the door, his hands as unsteady as his heartbeat. A daughter. I have a daughter. He could not decide if he wanted to rail at the heavens for taking away the one woman he loved, or praise them for finding out he had family. Maybe both, he thought. But one way or the other, Rob had been right…this changed everything.

  Jean Roberts made her way up the stairs of the elementary school where she worked as the school social worker, heading to her friend’s classroom. Laurie Dodd was a new first grade teacher this year, but the two women had become fast friends. That was unusual for Jean…she loved working with people but tended to hold them at arm’s length when it came to personal relationships. She was older than Laurie, but it did not seem to matter to their blossoming friendship.

  Entering the brightly decorated room, she saw Laurie moving around the room picking up while her students were in the music room. Laurie looked up with a smile as her friend moved over to give her a hug.

  Laurie pulled her desk chair over next to another adult-sized chair and motioned for Jean to have a seat. The two friends chatted for a while about several of the students, and then the topic rolled to Laurie.

  “How are you doing? Your limp is almost gone,” Jean remarked. Laurie had been dealing with the symptoms of Lupus for several months and finally seemed to be having some relief.

  Laurie laughed ruefully. “Yeah, the Prednisone takes away the swelling, but now I want to eat all the time and I have to fight the urge to constantly snack. I don’t think I can stay on it indefinitely, but it’s good for now. When I go in on Friday, I’ll learn about the other meds for Lupus.” Rolling her eyes, she added, “And I get to once again explain why I don’t have a father’s medical family history.”

  Jean remembered when Laurie had confided her family history to her. A teen mother. A father who never knew her. Then her aunt Emma who had to raise Laurie when her mother and grandmother were killed. Jean was amazed at how resilient Laurie had been and knew that was because her family had been so supportive of her mother and that her aunt had been an amazing guardian.

  “You okay with all of that?”

  “You know what’s weird? My whole life, it was just Mom’s family. I never really worried about what my father’s family was like. It was as though they simply didn’t exist. Not in reality and not in my imagination. Now, I find myself thinking about them. Or him. Or… oh, I don’t know,” Laurie said in frustration. Look
ing up, she said, “I find myself thinking about a grandmother that I never knew. What was her medical history? Did someone else have Lupus? Or any other condition or disease? Were there aunts or uncles? All of the things that never meant anything to me, now I think about.”

  “Do you think that as a child you were given one story, then as a young woman you found out a different story, so it was just easier to pretend your father didn’t exist? But now that you’re an adult, you are starting to see things like an adult.”

  Laurie looked at her friend with a curious look, so Jean continued. “Look, here are the hard facts. No one knows exactly what happened but your mom and your dad. Your mom was a scared sixteen-year-old girl thrust in a situation that she wasn’t prepared for. I think as young people, we see the world as very black or white. Your mom may have done this. You did this. But as adults we realize that there are all shades of grey in between.”

  Reaching over to hold Laurie’s hands, she finished, “I think that now you’re realizing that it’s okay to think about him, and you’re not dishonoring your mother in any way. After all, she did tell you that she fell in love.”

  “What about you?” Laurie asked. “You once told me that you had not given up on love. Are you still waiting?”

  Jean thought back to the conversation that she had with Laurie a few weeks earlier in the town’s bakery.

  Jean had looked up from devouring the scrumptious treat, laughing about the calories she would need to work off.

  “Can I ask you a question, Jean?” Laurie asked. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”