Over her shoulder, I see the waiting area is filled with firefighters in uniform and their loved ones wearing weary expressions. I imagine this scene isn’t entirely uncommon for them.
“We all came when we found out,” Tessa explains, motioning toward the small crowd holding vigil nearby. “It’s what we dowhen something like this happens. We’re a family. We take care of each other.”
“Joe said a couple other people were hurt. Are they okay?” I ask. “And the family whose house it was?”
“Everyone’s going to be fine. They were able to get the family out. One of the guys got a concussion, and another has a broken leg,” she says. “It could have been much worse.”
Her eyes darken, and I suspect she’s witnessed a time when the outcomewasworse.
“Right.” Knots form in my stomach.
Tessa squeezes my arm. “We got lucky.”
“Lucky,” I echo.
This time.The implication hangs in the air between us, lingering like ashes.
“When can I see him?” I ask.
“Soon. Joe’s back there checking on everyone.” She places her hand on my back. “Come on. Let’s get you some coffee.”
I nod and allow her to steer me toward the refreshment area.
I remember thinking when I was here before how odd it was. That people could casually pour themselves cups of stale coffee, watering it down with powdered creamer, while others’ lives are changing forever.
While some lives are ending.
A television playing a twenty-four-hour news station provides a muffled backdrop to the tired, hushed voices in the lobby. Tessa places a Styrofoam cup full of grainy black liquid in my hands, and I know I should be thankful that this time, I get to drink the coffee. It’s not my life changing forever in a room beyond these walls. Everyone I care about is okay.This time.
But therewillbe a next time. There’s always a next time. With a firefighter like Oliver, there would bemanynext times.
And what then?
28
MJ
The bottom fallsout of my stomach as I enter the hospital. It’s like when the kids used to insist Henry and I go on those gravity-defying rides at the spring carnival the school hosted every year. All we could do was hold on tight and pray the rusty bucket we were putting entirely too much trust in wouldn’t snap off, sending us crashing to our untimely ends. And we did it all without letting on we were afraid. We held their tiny hands and promised everything would be okay, that no harm would come to them.
But the truth is, we neverreallyknew. We only hoped.
I still hope.
Before I have time to scan the room, Lindsey is rushing toward me. Her eyes are puffy and mascara has shadowed the hollows of her eyes. I gather her in my arms, rocking her gently.
“How’s Oliver?” I ask. “Have you seen him?”
“Not yet,” she answers, blowing out a breath. “He’s okay. They’re treating him now. I should be able to see him soon. They’re keeping him overnight, just to be safe.”
My shoulders sag in relief. “Good. That’s good news.”
She scrubs her hands down her face before tucking them under her chin. “Yeah. Yeah, it is.”
“And how are you?”
A glossy film covers her eyes, and her lower lip trembles.
“It’s okay, honey. How about we find a restroom?” I ask, curling my arm around her. “Splash some cold water on your face.”
