“And you’re the deciding vote?”
“Yeah. But now Vivien has this youth center idea to throw into the mix. This call makes me realize she’s right. These kids need something to do. So I think I know what to vote for, but I don’t want to hurt anyone in the process. I’ll be disappointing a lot of people.” He winced as she removed the last bit of dirt from the deepest cut.
“You can’t keep everyone happy. Some won’t like your decision and that’s okay. You’re doing the right thing.”
He looked up. Wow. This close she could see every burst of gold and jade in his eyes. Her fingers stilled.
“You really think so? Think I’m doing the right thing?”
“Well, yeah. Don’t you?”
“Part of me does. Then I think of how upset people will be. People I care about. People I see all the time.”
“Not that a youth center will solve all the problems, but you have to remember what you’re fighting for. If you made a difference for some of these kids, gave them something better to do than getting high and drunk and hurting themselves or others, isn’t it worth it?”
He took in a big breath and released it. “Yeah, it is.” His voice was quiet, but sure.
Before she could do anything stupid, she finished with the last cut. “There you go. Try to keep these wounds dry, put some antibiotic ointment on them at home, and be careful with your arm.”
“Thanks, Ronnie. I’m glad you were here tonight.” He smiled, jumped down, and headed back to the crew as they were loading up the last few pieces of equipment.
He was glad she was here.
Huh.
She gathered the wrappers and garbage to throw away when a far-off scream cut through the rumble of the fire truck engines.
“Help! She’s not breathing!”
The desperate cry came from one of the teens, a tall girl in a yellow sweatshirt and ripped jeans at the edge of the lot who stood over another teenager collapsed on the ground.
Ronnie grabbed her jump bag and sprinted over. “What happened?” She put on new gloves and knelt in the gravel.
“I don’t know. Jordyn was kinda sluggish. I thought she was just drunk, but then she just fell and—oh my gosh. She’s going to die, isn’t she?” The girl cried, smudging her dark black eyeliner even more. Her hands shook as she wiped her cheeks, staining her sleeves with makeup.
Ronnie listened and felt for breath in the petite girl sprawled on the ground. Nothing. Pulse thready. She grabbed her light, pried open an eyelid. Pupils restricted to a pinpoint.
Ronnie looked around but could hardly see anything as they were practically hidden behind one of the rusted-out vehicles at the edge of the gravel pit. She needed help. Now. But Jensen and Seb were already gone with another patient in the other ambulance. Not sure where that Kirby guy was. “What’s your name?” she asked the friend standing over them.
“Kayla.” She sniffed. “Kayla Larsen.”
She could send her to get help, but first she needed to know what she was up against. “Kayla, I need you to tell me exactly what your friend here took tonight.” Ronnie quickly measured the unconscious girl’s jaw and slipped in an oral airway.
Kayla shivered and shook her head. “Nothing.”
“That’s not true. And if you want to save your friend’s life, I need to know exactly what is in her body right now.” She hooked up the oral to the bag-valve mask and started bagging.
Kayla began sobbing. Another teenager, a guy in a purple football jersey, came up to them. “Whoa! Is that Jordyn? What’s wrong with her?”
Ronnie sent him to find Peter or Cole. Anyone. Still no breathing for the girl on the ground and her pulse was getting even lighter.
“Kayla, this girl needs help. I need to know.”
“I promised Jordyn I wouldn’t tell anyone. We were just drinking,” she managed to sob out. Her gaze dropped to her friend.
“Did she take any heroin? Cocaine?”
Kayla shook her head. “No! We would never do drugs like that.”
She was lying. The symptoms all pointed to drug overdose, but Ronnie had to be sure. “Did she take anything with the alcohol? Anything? Pain killers—”
Kayla’s head jerked up. Her eyes went wide.
Aha.
Ronnie dropped her voice as other teens and parents started hearing the commotion and moved toward them. “What did she take, Kayla?”
“It was just some Oxycontin from when I injured my ankle. I didn’t know it would hurt her!”
Yup. Oxy and alcohol. And with Kayla being taller and more muscular than the slight Jordyn, the dosing would be more than the girl could handle. The opioids were shutting down brain function.
Peter rushed through the growing crowd. “How can I help?”
“I need you to grab the locked narc box in the ambulance and keep everyone back,” she said as she kept bagging.
As focused as Ronnie was on the thin blonde girl lying in the dirt, she couldn’t help but overhear some of the parents and teens standing around them.
“Who is that? Is that the new paramedic that stole Kirby’s job?”
“Does she even know what she’s doing?”
“Oh my goodness. It’s Jordyn Chase.”
“My mom wouldn’t let her touch me. She doesn’t trust—”
Peter broke through again. “Everybody step back! The best thing you can do for Jordyn right now is pray and give Ronnie space to work.”
He looked at her and nodded. It was almost like he believed in her. Like he was telling her to forget all the haters in the crowd and to do her job. He gently but quickly moved Kayla toward one of the other firefighters who joined him. Peter handed Ronnie the locked box and took over bagging.
Right. She had a life to save—because she couldn’t find Jordyn’s pulse anymore.
Ronnie did find the NARCAN though. It would quickly reverse the opioid overdose. She squeezed half a dose of the aerosol up one of Jordyn’s nostrils, then half a dose up the other. With Peter’s help, they rolled her onto her side. Silence choked out all sound as the crowd waited.
After a few minutes, Jordyn still wasn’t breathing on her own. Ronnie gave her another dose of the NARCAN.
Jordyn’s eyes opened and she gasped for air. The crowd sighed with relief. A few even clapped.
Ronnie rested back on her heels and took a deep breath herself. The girl would be okay.
The rest of the night flew by as Dean and Peter helped load Jordyn into the backup rig and they drove to the hospital.
In the emergency room, a petite blonde woman met them. The distraught Mrs. Chase clung to Ronnie after hearing what happened. “Thank you. Thank you for saving my baby girl.”
Peter stood next to her after the mother left. “Way to go, partner. You just saved the principal’s daughter.”
Ronnie hid the smile that wanted to burst out and shrugged instead. “It’s what I was trained to do.”
And if everyone could just get on board and see that she was here to help, maybe she could keep her job.
Chapter 7
Peter should get back to the fire hall as soon as possible and chip away at the pile of paperwork on his desk. And if not that, there were a number of other things he could be doing. Like mowing Gust’s lawn as promised. Helping Mom get her garden tilled. Doing the annual check on smoke detectors and extinguishers in Grandpa Zim’s cabins.
Or…figuring out a way to see Ronnie again that wasn’t awkward or creepy.
In fact, she’d settled in his brain for the past few days since she’d doctored his cuts. For such a feisty woman, she had a gentle touch with her patients. A gentle touch that stirred something he didn’t quite want to acknowledge.
Maybe that was why he’d answered his scheming cousin’s cry for help and now here he was stuck in his old high school auditorium in danger of being at Vivien’s beck and call. Knowing Vivie, he was sure she’d find some way of tearing his male pride to shreds again—probably in front of an even bigger audienc
e.
Fifty kids ran back and forth on the stage in front of them, sounding like a large herd of elephants. And without any air conditioning in the building, it kinda smelled like it too. Ripe.
All the older kids and teens moped in the front row of seats, as they stared at phone screens. A couple of them were snoring.
“See what I mean?” Vivien’s whisper had a distinct whine to it.
Peter tried not to chuckle. “Yeah, you might have gotten in over your head. Maybe you should stick to kayak instructing. It would be safer.”
She slapped his arm. “Don’t laugh. This is why I called you. All these parents are freaking out about their kids being caught at that party so they’re bringing them here. And I’m glad for such a great turnout, but I need help.”
“That’s your big emergency? What am I supposed to do?”
“You’re a big strong guy. Seeing you on stage could pave the way to greatness, Peter. Think of the good influence you can have on these kids.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Laying it on a little thick, aren’t you?” But she knew his kryptonite: children. Well, that and his inability to say no.
“Just stick around and help. Maybe do a little crowd control.” She added a couple of flits of her eyelashes.
As if that had any effect on him.
A screaming game of tag rushed by them. The pull to join in, add a few lion roars, and watch the kids react tugged at him, a much more effective temptation.
But so were the many other things he needed to do.
“Pleeease?”
He looked down at Vivie’s pleading eyes. Big mistake.
“Fine. I’ll give you ten minutes, but then I have to get back to work.”
It was sort of a “no.” Baby steps.
“Wonderful. Now, to start, can you find out what’s wrong with her?” She pointed to the little girl with a huge purple bow in her hair. While all the other kids ran around, she clung to the stage curtains.
He made his way to the stage and squatted down next to little Madison Baker, a third cousin once removed, and probably the smallest kid here. “What’s wrong, Maddy?”
“Parker just told me there’s—” Her lips wobbled. “There’s dancing.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?”
She nodded and looked down at the plastic brace wrapped around her calf helping correct her leg that turned inward. Water pooled in her eyes.
Oh no. Anything but tears.
“Hey, it’s okay. Watch, there’s nothing to it.” Peter broke into his best dance moves sure to guarantee a giggle, including the Sprinkler, Running Man, and Macarena.
Maddy wasn’t buying it though. If anything, her lips wobbled more.
“Come on, Maddy. Give it a try. It’s fun.” He took her hands and showed her the Macarena choreography. He added an extra flourish on his tush-shaking and jumped to the right.
Right into Ronnie.
“Hey!” she said, grabbing his arm to regain her balance.
Sure. That made Maddy laugh, and she skipped away with a friend.
And here he was once more looking like an idiot.
“Are you okay?”
Ronnie chuckled. “Oh, I’m fine. Don’t let me interrupt. Nice moves there, Travolta.” She walked away, still laughing.
Nice.
Her hair was back in its usual ponytail. Her Army T-shirt and workout leggings were paired once again with running shoes. A feminine scent—something sweet and rich—lingered after her as she walked with Tiago to the table where Beth Strauss was registering kids.
He checked his watch. Ten minutes were up. But maybe he should stick around a little longer and help Vivien. She definitely needed it.
Masking his newfound enthusiasm for the idea, he hopped off the stage and sighed as he approached Viv. “Fine. I’ll stay and help. But I am not singing.”
Vivien’s worried expression morphed into a victory smirk. “Glad you came to your senses. As for singing, we’ll see.”
No way. But…
He glanced over at Ronnie still talking with Beth on the stage. “You know, you should ask Ronnie to help too.”
That was totally nonchalant. Right?
Vivien looked at Ronnie. “You’re right. We need all the help we can get.” She marched down the aisle and clapped her hands. “All right, everybody, come up onstage and let’s get started.”
The children flooded the platform. Ronnie waved at him and turned to leave, but Vivien ran after her. Peter couldn’t hear what she said, but Vivien always got her way.
And this time he was counting on it.
Sure enough, Ronnie walked over to him looking amused. “So, I’ve already seen your wicked dance moves, but word is if I stick around, I get to hear you sing too.”
No! Peter whipped his gaze toward Vivien. She sent him a wink and a shrug.
Oh, he would strangle her. Not in front of the children, of course. But as soon as they left the building, she was toast.
“C’mere, Peter!” Vivie called from the stage.
He shook his head as he made his way center stage. Meanwhile, Vivien told her captive audience about his starring role in Grease, a slightly embellished version, yes, but all he had to do was stand there and not burn from embarrassment any more than he already was. And not that he would ever admit this to her, but she might be right. A few of the older guys straightened up, didn’t look quite so bored. Tiago and Josh lost the skeptical looks on their faces.
Still, he breathed easier when she sent him off the stage.
Peter plopped down next to Ronnie sitting in the middle of the auditorium.
She nodded toward Vivien. “That’s nice of you to help her out. Most guys wouldn’t go that far, even for a girlfriend.”
Peter looked at her. “Girlfriend? Vivien is my cousin. Well, a third cousin by marriage on the Zimmerman side, but still—” He shuddered. “Not a girlfriend. Family.”
“Oh.” Ronnie blushed.
Blushed, huh? He didn’t expect that on her. “You really thought there was something between me and Vivie?”
The blush deepened. “I mean, she hangs on you and bats her eyes. And you’re hot—oh!” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “I mean, I wouldn’t blame her… Okay, I need to crawl into a hole and die now.” She covered her eyes with her hands.
Peter couldn’t hold back a grin. Hot, huh?
He gently pulled her hands down. “Please don’t die. We were just starting to get along. And Cole really doesn’t want to find another paramedic.”
She looked up at him and made a face. “Maybe I’ve been in the Army too long. I thought she was flirting with you.”
“Stick around long enough and you’ll see that Vivien flirts with everybody. And, I’m single.”
And why he’d said that, he had no idea.
She stared at him and oh how he wished he could read her.
A voice from stage snatched their attention.
They listened slack-jawed to Tiago belt out “Mary Had a Little Lamb” like nobody’s business.
“Wow,” Peter said. “He’s good. Has he always been a good singer?”
“I don’t know.” Ronnie looked from the stage to Peter. “I don’t know much about singing, but it sounded good. Didn’t it?”
“Yeah and look at him up there. He’s got some talent.”
“He does.” She smiled as they watched him. The next boy came onstage.
“Speaking of cousins,” Peter said, “that’s another cousin of mine. Grayson. But I already know he’s tone deaf.”
“You’re related to that kid? Maybe I don’t want to hear you sing.”
“I’m related to most of these kids. See the blonde girl by the curtain, the one with the red shirt? That’s my cousin Mandy’s daughter. Mandy is a Dahlquist too, but she broke away from the restaurant biz and is a hair stylist in town. She started at a young age. Got in trouble for cutting my hair when I was eight. Uh, that kid—you know, the one from the fire—Ben Zimmerman, he�
�s my cousin Elton’s son. My cousin Ree used to babysit him until he accidentally set the cat on fire. She refused after that. And that little guy over there is a cousin too. Funny story. His dad used to sell raffle tickets to decide who would be his date for our Dahlquist Annual Rib Cook-off. It’s family and significant others only, and it’s amazing food. He made a killing off those tickets until he got engaged and his fiancée shut that down.”
“What about the kid singing now?”
His gaze went to the blond-haired kid belting out “Happy Birthday.”
“Let me guess. Second cousin, once removed.” She glanced at him, grinning.
She smelled good. Fruity, or maybe floral.
Not at all like a fire station.
“Uh, no. That’s Joe and Mona Michaels’s son. No relation whatsoever.” And it occurred to him that, for the first time in ages, he was sitting by a pretty girl also of no relation. And when she smiled at him like that, he forgot whatever it was he was going to say.
He cracked his knuckles. “So, do you know what part Tiago wants?”
“No clue. Never even seen West Side Story.”
“I’ve never seen it either. But I think from what Vivie said, there’s two gangs fighting, the Sharks and the Jets. A girl named Maria gets caught in the middle of it. Every kid will get a part.”
Because no kid wanted to be left out. He should know.
She turned to him. “It kinda sounds like Deep Haven. Two families, with you getting caught in the middle, like Maria.”
Just what every guy wanted—to be compared to a heroine of a musical. “It wasn’t always like that meeting the other night. I mean, for the most part, both of those families stay out of each other’s way.”
And boy did he wish for the good ol’ days, when he was just Peter. Not really a Zimmerman anymore, but not completely a Dahlquist either. A time when no one paid him much attention.
“Well, you probably don’t get it, but having a part in this play will be good for Tiago. He needs a group to fit into.”
Crazy for You Page 10
