Fire Born (Firehouse 343)

by Christina Moore

She rubbed her neck as she sat in the adjacent chair. “Not much, I’m afraid. Kara woke up in the middle of the night begging her daddy to come back…”

  A vise clamped around his heart and squeezed painfully as her breath hitched on those last words. He waited patiently as she paused to collect herself, wiping furiously at the tears that spilled over. “Oh God, Chris,” she said. “Kara hasn’t had a nightmare since she was a little girl, and now she’s living one! I’m her mother, and I don’t know how to help her. How do I help her get through this?”

  Chris reached over and took her hand in his. “You love her, Irene. No one can do that better than you, because you are her mother.”

  Irene thanked him with a weak smile and a squeeze of his hand. “If I may say so, you look a lot better than you did yesterday,” she observed.

  He couldn’t help smiling as he recalled the reason. When he saw her lift her eyebrows at him, he cleared his throat and looked down at his hands. “I, uh…”

  “None of my business how you cope, Christopher,” Irene said mildly. “Just so long as you’re safe about it.”

  He started to cough, feeling more embarrassed that Irene knew what he’d been up to last night than he had about literally crying on Martie’s shoulder. Then her words hit him like a ton of bricks, causing him to sit straight up.

  “Just so long as you’re safe about it.” He and Martie hadn’t used any protection. He knew he was clean and he felt certain that she’d never have had sex with him if she wasn’t as well. She didn’t seem the type to be deceptive in that way. So while there was no chance of his transmitting or receiving a venereal disease, there was a chance he’d given her something else.

  “Oh Christ,” he bemoaned, bracing his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands.

  “Chris, do I need to make it my business?” his hostess asked quietly. “I know I’m not your mother, that you and I aren’t close and that it really is none of my business…”

  He laughed without humor. “Something about that just reminded me of Cal. He would’ve said, ‘Ain’t none of my business, kid, but…’” He paused, drawing a breath and sighing heavily. “Used to irritate the fuck outta me sometimes when he’d say that—now I can’t believe how much I’m going to miss it.”

  Sitting back again, Chris drew another breath and looked over at Irene. “I was…with someone last night. But we didn’t use protection. I’ll have to try and talk to her about it later.”

  Irene absorbed his words and nodded slowly. “It’s probably best you do. And I’m happy to hear you’ll be seeing this girl again.”

  “Actually, you’ll be meeting her in about an hour,” he said, causing Irene’s eyebrows to shoot up. Chris chuckled for a moment, then sobered. “Martie is the arson investigator from the Bureau of Fire Safety who’s been assigned to look into the Breckon Apartments fire.”

  “Ah, yes. SOP when a firefighter is injured or…or dies,” Irene said.

  “She was at the hospital yesterday to speak to me about what happened,” Chris continued quietly. “She needs to talk to the other guys on B-Shift, and go over the scene itself. Martie said she would have gone to Gracechurch yesterday but she had a deposition in the afternoon. When I left you last night I couldn’t settle down and I… I called her to talk. She came to the hotel to have dinner with me and talk—”

  A fleeting smile graced Irene’s lips. “Among other things.”

  He nodded. “—and since she’s going the same direction we are, she offered to drive me and Kara so I wouldn’t have to rent a car. And just so you know, what else happened wasn’t part of the plan. I didn’t even have a plan—I just wanted to see her.”

  “She must be beautiful, then, if you wanted to see her again so soon,” Irene said. “And Chris, honey, I may be nearly fifty, but I was young once. I’ve been in a situation where things ‘just happen’ like they did for you a time or two myself in the last twelve years. You and this Martie are both consenting adults—you don’t have to justify yourself to me.”

  “Who’s Martie?”

  Chris and Irene looked up at the sound of Karalyn’s voice. He stood and walked over to her as she was taking a towel to her hair.

  “How ya doin’, kiddo?” he asked her softly.

  Tears welled in 24-year-old Kara’s eyes. “I want my daddy back, Uncle Chris,” she said as the watery drops spilled down her cheeks.

  She’d been calling him Uncle Chris since she was eight, when he’d met her for the very first time. He’d watched Kara grow up, torturing her parents through her teenage years, had helped her cope as best he could when her parents had decided to go their separate ways. And he’d watched her mature into a beautiful young woman with bright brown eyes and a stunning smile that lit up a room. There were several guys in the department that he knew wouldn’t mind getting to know her better, but had been afraid to because Calvin had threatened to set them all on fire if they ever so much as thought about laying a finger on his little girl.

  He drew her to him and embraced her warmly, tucking her head under his chin as she wrapped her arms tight around his waist. He had no words that would ease her pain so he said nothing. Just held her and rocked her back and forth, letting her cry her fill. Chris could hear Irene crying softly behind them, and he knew that they, and Tonja, had been another reason he’d locked his own emotions away. He’d felt the need to be strong for them, to be their rock. Someone had to be.

  When she had quieted, Kara stood back with a sniffle. “So who’s Martie?” she asked again.

  Chris grinned. One of the great things about Kara was her tenacity—it made her a kick-ass EMT. “Martine Liotta,” he said slowly, “is a friend of mine. She’s with the Montana Bureau of Fire Safety.”

  “She’s an arson investigator?”

  He nodded. “Yes. It’s standard procedure for an A.I. to conduct interviews and visit the scene of a fire when a fireman is hurt.”

  “Or killed,” Kara added, hiccupping on the word ‘killed.’ “I remember Daddy explaining that to me when you broke your leg the day before my fifteenth birthday.”

  He nodded, remembering the incident all too well—his leg had gone through some floorboards weakened by the fire they’d fought and his tibia had snapped. “Martie’s offered to drive us home today so I don’t have to rent a car, because she needs to go to Gracechurch as part of her investigation. Are you going to be okay with that? I’ll call her right now and tell her no if you’d rather it was just you and me.”

  “No, it’s okay,” she told him, shaking her head and wiping her face with the damp towel in her hand. “I think I’d like to meet the woman who’s gonna decide if the fire that killed my dad was arson or faulty wiring.”

  “Okay. Why don’t you and your mom order us some breakfast? I actually need to let her know it’s okay to come and get us.”

  Kara shook her head. “I’m not really hungry.”

  “You gotta eat something, kiddo,” Chris admonished lightly. “You know it’s best to eat even if you don’t feel like it, especially when you’re upset.”

  She grumbled under her breath but complied, walking over to sit on the couch next to Irene, whom he watched hand her daughter the room service menu and encourage her to pick something. He stepped away from the two and drew his cell phone from his pocket. He brought Martie’s number up on screen and opened up a blank text.

  Good morning. With Kara and Irene in room 308, he typed. Kara’s okay with you driving us home.

  A thought occurred to him as he was pressing Send, and he quickly opened up another blank text. By the way, I got your message. Thank you…for everything.

  He hit Send again and turned toward Irene and Kara, who said that he needed to come over and choose his breakfast. Chris had taken just two steps when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Pulling it out again, he couldn’t help but smile to see that Martie had responded so quickly.

  Good morning to you too, she’d said. And you’re welcome. I’ll see you soon.
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br />   Those four words—I’ll see you soon—suddenly meant the world to him, and the vice around his heart relaxed its grip just a little bit.

  Although she had ordered her favorite breakfast—French toast with whipped cream—Karalyn only ate one slice of the two, and after pushing her plate away she got up from the couch and went over to lie down on one of the beds, facing away from them. It hurt Chris to see her so broken up, and he could only imagine what her depression was doing to Irene, who had to cope with not only her daughter’s heartache but her own.

  After Kara had gone to the other side of the room, Irene spoke quietly as she informed him that Tonja’s sister had come for her at 9:00 the night before as scheduled. Tina Webber had said that she knew Tonja would want a hand in planning the funeral, but to give her sister a day to absorb the shock of losing Calvin before making any decisions. Irene said she had agreed, as it was likely to be that long, at least, before she, Kara, and Calvin’s parents were ready to do anything about the service. She also let him know that Richard and LouAnn, Calvin’s father and mother, had called her from the in-flight phone on their plane. She said she’d told them she would wait for them at the airport in Billings if they wished her to, but that Richard Maynard had demanded she get back to Bozeman and take care of her business so she could “get your ass to Gracechurch and take care of my granddaughter.”

  At 8:30 on the dot, just as they were placing the dishes back on the room service cart, there was a light knock on the door. Chris felt his heartbeat increase its rhythm in spite of his efforts to remain calm, and he moved to greet the new arrival. Opening the door, he found Martie on the other side as expected, and for a moment he simply drank in the sight of her. Last night she had been a balm on his soul, listening to him talk, letting him cry on her shoulder. She was there when he needed someone even though she didn’t know him from Adam, and that meant more to him than he could put into words.

  She had also shared her body with him, and the memory of that intimacy left him wondering how he was supposed to greet her. Did he kiss her cheek? Could he kiss her on the lips?

  Martie saved him from possibly making a fool of himself by smiling lightly and reaching for his hand. She gave it a gentle squeeze and he returned the gesture, allowing the corners of his mouth to turn up a fraction.

  “Christopher, aren’t you going to invite the lady in?”

  Heat flushed his neck as he stepped aside for Martie to enter. Chris closed the door and made the introductions.

  “Irene Lawton, this is Lt. Martine Liotta of the Montana Bureau of Fire Safety. Martie, Irene is Calvin’s former wife.”

  “I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. Lawton,” Martie said.

  Irene nodded. “Thank you.”

  Kara rose from the bed then and walked over to stand next to her mother. “So you’re the one who’s gonna find out who did this to my dad?”

  Martie glanced at Chris. “Karalyn Maynard, Calvin’s daughter,” he explained softly.

  She looked back at the younger woman, saying, “I’m going to find out what caused the fire, yes.”

  Chris noted the vagueness of her answer, but then realized she had to be. Given the Breckon Apartments building’s age, the fire could very well have started by accident due to faulty wiring and the simple the wear and tear of time. Even if Martie was somehow already aware of the rumored mismanagement, she couldn’t very well declare any one person a suspect until there was concrete evidence of wrongdoing.

  “Somebody did this,” Kara said then, her voice actually much stronger than it had been since yesterday. “I feel it in my gut.”

  Or maybe you just want someone to blame, Chris thought sadly. He certainly did. It was never easy to accept when something like this happened because someone was careless, like falling asleep with a cigarette in hand or leaving a towel on a lit stove. If the fire was set on purpose, or started because the management firm didn’t do their job, then somebody was responsible for Calvin’s death, however indirectly. It meant that somebody could—and damn well would, if he had anything to say about it—be held accountable. At least if there was a person or persons at whom to direct his anger, he might begin to feel a little better.

  Maybe they all would.

  “I will find out what started the fire, Karalyn, I can assure you of that,” Martie replied. “If there is a person directly or indirectly responsible, the truth will be uncovered and they won’t get away with it.”

  She took a breath then, and added, “However, I really think that you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that the fire was started accidentally. That there is no one to blame.”

  Kara shook her head vigorously. “No. Somebody did this,” she repeated.

  Chris watched Martie look to Irene, then up to him. He gave her the subtlest of head shakes, then said to the other ladies, “Why don’t we get ourselves checked out now, huh? Time to go home.”

  Tears filled Kara’s eyes again, spilling over as she silently nodded her head. Irene wrapped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders and took a quick glance around. When it appeared nothing was being left behind, she picked up her purse and headed for the door, Kara’s head resting on her shoulder as they walked together.

  Martie grabbed Chris by the hand as he started to follow. He turned back with a surprised expression. “What is it?”

  “Two things,” she said quietly. “First, I really hope you or Irene can talk that girl into seeing a grief counselor. It will be good for her, especially if it turns out the fire was an accident. She really seems to have her head wrapped around the idea that someone started it on purpose.”

  Chris nodded. “I was just thinking the same thing. Part of me wants someone to blame because then there’s something to focus all this pain and anger on,” he said. “I mean, if the fire made the beam fall, which is ultimately what killed Calvin… If that was something accidental, then it’s like he died for nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t say for nothing, Chris,” Martie returned. “He saved a little girl’s life.”

  “I know,” he replied with a sigh, and started for the door again.

  Once again, he was stopped when she tugged on his hand. When he turned back, his expression was puzzled. “What?”

  “Second thing,” she said, reminding him that she’d had something else to say. Only it turned out that the second thing wasn’t words, but an action, as she stepped up to him and raised up on her toes to touch her lips lightly to his.

  Chris felt his blood begin to rush through his veins and he leaned into the kiss, managing to slip his tongue into her mouth to touch briefly with hers before she pulled back and stood straight again. He smiled.

  “What was that for?”

  Martie returned his smile. “Just because I wanted to,” she said, then took him by the hand a third time and led him out of the room.

  ***

  Kara fell asleep in the back of Martie’s Kia Sorento soon after they started out, being emotionally drained from an emotional goodbye with her mother. Martie also learned that the poor girl hadn’t slept well when, after about half an hour of hearing her snoring lightly, Chris told her about the nightmare she’d had.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, wondering how many times over the next few days she’d be saying those words.

  “I know you are,” Chris said quietly from the passenger seat. After a moment of silence he looked at her. “I want to say thanks, again, for last night.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, Chris.”

  “But I want to,” he insisted. “I mean, you don’t know me at all. I’m a material witness in your investigation—don’t think I’m not aware of that—and yet you came to spend time with me because I couldn’t sleep. You let me talk your ear off, and you let me…”

  His voice trailed off and Martie felt her cheeks flush crimson as she recalled the intimacy of the night before. He really had made her feel incredible for the first time in a long time, even if their lovemaking had been somewhat hurried. S
he’d drifted off to sleep in her own bed thinking of how easily his touch had heated her blood, had made her want him.

  “And you’re right, of course,” Chris went on. “Clearly you and I are attracted to one another, and there’s some serious chemistry between us or we’d never have slept together. But if we’re going to have a chance at something real—if we even want it, and I definitely do—then we gotta put the brakes on and do it right.”

  She glanced over with a smile. “Thank you for understanding. Despite the horrible reason for which we met, I’m glad we did. I’d also like to give whatever there may be between us a chance. To be honest with you, I might’ve been willing to leap without looking if I hadn’t been through the wringer a couple of times already. I just… It’s not just about protecting me—it’s about protecting you, too. ”

  He laughed briefly. “Trust me, I know what you mean about being through the wringer. One of the best things about you is that you’ve worked the job, so you’re less likely to dump me because of it, as I’ve had to deal with before. And I’m gonna be honest, I really want to be with you again like we were last night—I mean, damn, girl! You’re gorgeous and you’ve got a body that’s six-alarm sexy, so I don’t know what the fuck those morons you dated were thinking. But I can be patient and wait until you’re ready to take that step again.”

  The fact that he was willing to wait for her—and his appreciation of her body—had pleasant little flutters trembling in her belly. And it made her want him even more. Chris had better quit being so damn understanding, she mused, or she was going to end up reneging on her own request.

  “Speaking of last night,” Chris went on, and the hesitation in his tone had her brows furrowing over her nose.

  “What about it?”

  He drew a breath and she looked at him. “I know I’m clean, and I get the feeling you are too or you wouldn’t have been willing to do anything at all with me. So I’m not worried about giving or receiving an STD. But we didn’t use a condom, Martie, and I hate to do this, but I have to ask you… Are you on any kind of birth control?”