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When he’d watched her walk up to the coffee shop after arriving in her vintage Jeep pickup truck, he immediately relaxed. Once he thought of it, even though in Devon’s hospital room he thought her striking good looks meant she’d be a glamour queen, the rustic vehicle fit her perfectly. Even the way she was dressed—with jeans and cowboy boots and that jacket cinched tightly around her waist—put him at ease. She wasn’t trying to pull any punches, no false eyelashes or fake nails that he could discern. He even saw a strand of silver in her hair, and for some reason that moved him a little bit. Here was a young woman who’d admittedly wrestled with her age, and her hair was already turning gray.
There was an honesty about Lila that appealed to Charlie. “Face it, buddy, she’s everything you’ve ever wanted.” Beautiful, smart, ready to roll up her sleeves if needed. Little did he realize the toll it cost her to give of herself like that. She wasn’t kidding when she said it had been a long time since she’d talked to a guy without a drink under her belt. Over twelve hours with him that day had exhausted her. He thought he saw a glimpse of weariness when they arrived at the theater, and then when they both fell asleep, well, that was a story they’d tell their friends someday.
Pulling through the gate of the development gave him the usual jolt of self-actualization, only this time it was accompanied by thinking of the happiness it might give Lila if she ever moved there with him. But her house up in Elfin Forest was pretty amazing. The house was a California ranch surrounded by old oaks and scrub.
As a firefighter, he’d noticed right away the one-hundred-foot clearing around Lila’s house, a requirement by law. It wouldn’t prevent her house from catching fire, but it might help her escape.
She’d arranged seating around a little-used firepit. In the summer, he imagined she’d have pillows and colorful throws over the furniture, but as winter approached, that would be stashed away. Pottery and iron sculpture melded beautifully in the wild landscape. Thinking of the artistic touches around her property, Charlie got an idea to ask for design help with his backyard. He didn’t care for Clare’s minimalist decorating, and it had filtered out from the house into the yard. It was time to make the house his again. If he stayed there.
Preparing for the workweek took another hour, and by midnight, he was out cold for the rest of the night. The alarm went off far too soon, but he literally jumped out of bed, let the dogs out into the backyard, and got into the shower without a wasted second. After leaving a text for his dog sitter, he was on the road with his thermal cup of coffee.
As the battalion chief, he normally would work a day shift, five days a week. But with the station down three men—Chief George and Mike killed in a wildland fire and Devon recovering from burns acquired in the same fire—he’d stay for seventy-two hours, heading in to relieve the off-going crew completing their shift. Firefighters at Station #34 expected to be there for three days, but they’d been out for up to two weeks in the past when they were deployed to other jurisdictions in California to fight fires.
The excitement of arriving at the station never got old for Charlie. Pride in his position, the job he did, and in the men he led had sustained him for years. Now he could hopefully add Lila to that list of powerful presences in his life.
The flag was already flying, so that meant that his nephew Tony was up and awake. He’d get report, or turnover as they called it, from the outgoing staff. The report would consist of a description of what had happened during their shift, the types of calls they ran, the equipment used, apparatus/equipment deficiencies, training performed, station issues, and any other pertinent information. Since Charlie was the battalion chief, they’d also give him their list of needs and complaints, and on this morning, in spite of everything they’d been through, it would include meal issues.
“I’m starving,” Rick Jackson whined, getting ready to leave for home after a three-day absence. “Newbies shouldn’t be cooking meals. And when I tried to help, she got pissed off.”
They turned to new recruit Lindsey Morgan. “I happen to like meatloaf,” she said, her nose in the air. “I didn’t appreciate you trying to put ketchup in my food while I was preparing it. Put it on your own serving.”
“Go home, Rick. But show some respect,” Charlie mumbled. “Lindsey, sorry. Okay, what else happened?”
The day began as it always had, but with the knowledge that three of their men were missing, and two weren’t coming back. They were down two EMTs and an engineer. When turnover was complete, Charlie took off for his office at the back of the garage. He had to keep up with paperwork but be available for all calls. Fortunately, there had been no big fires since the Ridge Fire that had taken lives. But it was because of their quick action that small fires had stayed small. Going over his staffing, he realized they were at a critical lack, so he called the main office and asked for backup and put out a call for volunteers.
The work had piled up after taking time off for Mike’s and George’s funerals. Paperwork was his nemesis, so he dug in first thing to get it out of the way. At nine, the tone over the loudspeaker signaled that a fire was in progress after a vehicle accident.
“Great,” he mumbled, listening to who was responding in the vicinity. When the request for their resources came over, he just shook his head. The call asked specifically for extra EMTs. Since Devon and Mike were out, that meant that only paramedic Bridget, who was Tony Saint’s wife, was available. Charlie would go out with her in the truck.
Preparing to leave the garage, the staff donned their gear, the drivers climbing behind the wheel. “Do you want to drive?” Charlie asked.
“Okay,” Bridget said, throwing her bag into the back of the vehicle. “I’m honored and surprised. Rick never lets me drive.”
“Back in the olden days, we used to have riding positions. You had to earn the right to drive and on down. We don’t have the staff for that anymore. And frankly, I’m tired. I don’t need to drive to prove anything.”
He rested while she went through a quick checklist of items. Earlier, she’d performed a pre-trip inspection, which is a detailed assessment of the vehicle’s engine, fluid levels, drive train, emergency lights, brake system, and tires. In the back where patient care was performed, she stocked supplies that had been used during the last run, refilled the oxygen canister, and did a thorough cleaning.
“Ready to go,” she said, pulling out onto the road.
The smell of smoke reached them first, an acrid, metallic stench that burned their eyes.
“What’s that?” Bridget asked, nerves growing.
“Probably a car on fire. That rotten-egg smell can be from steel burning. It has to be pretty hot to burn off the trace amounts of sulfur that are found in steel. Sorry for the chemistry lesson.”
“Tony told me you’re a science…”
“Go ahead,” Charlie said, smirking.
“Geek.”
“Ha! That I am. Yikes, look ahead. This is not good.” The vehicle fire had spread beyond the immediate vicinity. “We’ll go right to the scene. If there are injured, that’s where we’ll find them”
It was information she knew, but Charlie was just thinking out loud. They all did it, helping to reinforce basic precepts of firefighting.
As Bridget navigated the truck around onlookers and other emergency vehicles, Charlie watched out the window. Both of their hearts started to pound, adrenaline dumping into their bloodstreams. The sky was dark as night, smoke obscuring the sun. The little rain they’d had the day before hadn’t helped, and the fire was already out of control. But their job on this run was the patient.
A firefighter from another department ran toward the truck. “I’ll help you,” he said.
