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“Can she talk? I completely understand if she can’t,” Candy replied. “They’ve been trying to call her for an hour. I’m so sorry.”
Cindy went into the living room. “It’s your sister-in-law, Candy,” she said, holding out the phone for Aisling.
Aisling took the phone. Candy was the one person from Mike’s family to whom she could talk and not lose control. “I gave the battalion chief, Uncle Charlie, your address,” Candy whispered. “He was taking orders from Roberta, and since you’re the wife, it’s up to you, not her. He should be on his way soon.”
“Thank you,” Aisling said. “I’ll talk to you later.”
What kind of decisions would they ask her to make? “They wouldn’t be talking about funeral arrangements already, would they?” she asked Cindy.
“They might,” she answered. “He died in the line of duty. You’ll want him to get full honors, Aisling. They have the honor guard line up, and you and Mike’s family will walk through it as a sign of respect. Let me ask Daddy to look into it.”
“I’m not ready for any of this,” Aisling said, weeping again. “I’m losing it.”
“You don’t have to do anything right now,” Devon said.
The man who had accompanied Devon finally came over and knelt down in front of Aisling. “Mrs. Saint, I’m so sorry about Mike. I have to get Devon to the hospital now so his injuries can be treated, but the battalion chief is on his way over to see you. As soon as they arrive, we’ll leave.”
He nodded to Devon, who was feeling worse as the minutes passed. At first, in shock, he didn’t even feel the burns, but they were starting to sting, enveloping his whole body. The smell of wood smoke was getting to him, as well as a putrid stench he didn’t recognize until later: the smell of burnt flesh.
When the battalion chief arrived, Devon stood up carefully, suddenly feeling sick. “I’d better get out of here. I just realized I stink.”
Aisling began to cry again, her face in her hands. Cindy came over and sat next to her, patting her back. Without more communication, Devon left. It would be the last time he’d see Aisling before the funeral.
Lila Conner took Tilly home with her as soon as Devon called. He’d be in the burn unit at one of the big university hospitals downtown at least thru the weekend, but hopefully out in time for Mike’s funeral.
“I got here as soon as I could,” she said, clumsily tying the mask around her face as she walked through the door.
He didn’t recognize her at first because he was in protective isolation, and everyone who entered had to wash their hands and don a gown and mask.
“Who are you?” he asked, but then he saw her platinum blond hair and smiled for the first time since the tragedy. “Never mind. I recognize you.”
“Oh, Devon, oh my God.”
She came over to the side of his bed, tearful, not touching him, as per strict orders from the nurse. Hers was the cry of everyone who’d heard about the catastrophe.Oh my God.
“God.” He lay back on the bed, thinking about God. First his parents were taken from him tragically, shortly after he graduated from college. Now this. How much was he supposed to allow for a loving God? Devon was frankly sick of hearing about God. But he needed to be nice. This was Lila, who had a strong faith. And she was taking care of Tilly.
“Thanks for taking care of Till,” he said. “How’s the old girl?”
“She misses you terribly,” Lila said. “This morning at eight she cried, looking out the door for you. Fight to get better, Dev. Don’t give up.”
“Is that what you think I’m doing?” he asked, confused. “I promise you, I’m not giving up. I can’t wait to get out of here. I’m only following doctor’s orders.”
Lila told him what she’d heard around the community, that Devon had carried Mike out on his back. No one had mentioned that the chief had been left behind. Devon couldn’t carry both men, and Mike had still been alive when George went down.
“Knock, knock.” A masked head appeared through a crack in the door. “It’s Charlie Saint.”
“Come in,” Devon called, heartsick.
He introduced Lila, and they made a minute of small talk before she excused herself, winking at Devon as she left the room.
Clearly emotional seeing Devon in bed with oxygen and IVs and pumps surrounding his bed, Charlie wiped his eyes on his sleeves. “Can I shake hands with you?”
“Of course,” Devon answered, emotionally exhausted. “Can you tell me about George? The guys were in here last night, and they claimed not to know anything.”
“I’m sorry, Devon. George had a heart attack. They got him out, as you know, and started CPR, but the smoke inhalation was too much. The doctors told me you might have lung damage. It was an awful fire.”
“What about Mike? What was the final verdict about cause of death?” He heard his own voice asking, sounding cold and clinical. What did his best friend, his buddy since kindergarten, the guy he loved like a brother, what did he die of?
