“Good point.” I kiss her nose, then her cheeks on each side. My lips quickly make my way to hers and what started out as a playful peck turns to a deep, loving kiss. “I guess, until you become some big hotshot designer, I’ll just have to settle for the sentence thing then,” I murmur.
“That’s one of the things I love about us.” She looks up at me, the twinkle gone from her eyes.
I lift her hand, kissing the tips of her fingers. “What’s that?”
“That neither of us settled for anything. We only accept the best in life. New York. School. And in love too.” She presses against me, her body radiating heat through mine.
“I couldn’t agree more.” That fuzzy feeling is taking over my brain again. The one that’s trying to lure me into the haze of sleep. With each blink, it takes longer to pull my eyelids back open. I don’t want to pass out. I want to stay in this moment with Karen forever. I want to listen to her talk about the big city. I love seeing excitement dance on her face when she tells me all the places she’s learned about there. But this exhaustion is powerful.
The background noise from her family is like the droning buzz of a beehive off in the distance. I can hear glimpses of what Karen is saying beside me. Something about free theater shows and pizza slices so big you have to fold them up. It all blends into a hum until I can’t fight anymore. My eyelids won’t listen to my brain. They stay shut and the world begins to slip away.
Suddenly I’m sitting up straight, like a shot rang out in the air.
“Luke? What’s wrong?”
“Shhh!”
There it is. I tilt my head and hear the tones dropping on the radio downstairs. With so many people in Karen’s family being in the fire department, it’s like a stampede of elephants down there as they scurry to get out the door. I’ve grown up with that distinctive beeping interrupting so many meals, so many movies, so many dreams, I swear I can feel it in my bones each time it goes off.
“We’ve gotta get our clothes on.” I leap out of bed and scramble for my underwear. “Rebecca will be back up here soon.”
“Shit, yeah. Okay.” Karen slides out from the pillows and blankets and we both make quick work of getting dressed.
Sure enough, there’s a soft knock at the door. “Care-bear? Are you guys done with your seven minutes of heaven yet?” Rebecca’s voice is muffled by the door.
“Pfft, seven minutes.” Karen snorts.
“Hey now.” I hold my hand over my heart. “Give a guy a break. It was my first time.”
“I’m just teasing.” She bites down on her lip to hide her smile.
“Helloooo?” Rebecca raps against the door again.
“Just a sec,” Karen calls out.
We hop around the room, getting our legs in our pants and shimmy into our shirts. I’m a little worried that the room will smell like condoms and sex, but it’s not like I can keep Rebecca out of here or do much about it.
“We’re good,” Karen announces, and the door opens.
“Wow, I didn’t think you guys would actually do the deed with the whole family downstairs.” Rebecca walks in with a smirk. “Nice bedhead, Karen.” She nods at her sister.
Karen’s hands fly up to her head and she begins smoothing out the crazy fly-aways. “Whatever.” She sniffs. “Everyone out on a call?”
“Yep, it’s just us. I guess I could’ve been nice and let you two do the whole cuddling thing for a bit longer while I watched TV, but you know how it is. I was bored.” She shrugs.
“God, you’re the worst.” Karen tosses a pillow at her sister, who easily ducks it.
“Am I? Because I seem to recall keeping our rabidly angry family at bay just so you could get your V-card punched up here, so, uh, I’m pretty sure that makes me the best.”
Karen sighs heavily. “Fine. You’re the best. Thank you.”
“Um, so not to take too much credit or anything, but I think I might have had more to do with that V-card punching than you,” I interrupt. “Just saying.”
Karen and Rebecca laugh, and I join in. Any tension or awkwardness that might have been lurking in the air around us disappears.
“Wait, what’s that smell?” Rebecca sniffs.
Oh God, all the awkwardness just steamrolled back in. Heat burns up the back of my neck and I look down at the floor. “I, uh, what do you mean?” My voice is tighter than a guitar string about to snap. Can she smell our sweat in the air? The unmistakable latex of the condom? Or even worse, our cum? I know Karen and her sister are close, and they’re probably going to gossip about all the specifics later, but right now I’m not comfortable sharing this much with Rebecca.
“Not that,” Rebecca scoffs. “Jesus.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s smoke. Don’t you smell smoke?”
For a second all three of us sniff at the air. I go to the window I snuck in earlier and pull back the poufy, deep-purple curtains. Suddenly orange dances on the walls as a fire just past the Bakers’ scrap heap, I mean yard, flickers up into the night sky.
“Oh shit. That’s big,” Karen breathes.
“Yeah, we’ve got to get over there.” I search for my shoes. “Let’s go. Grab some blankets.” I instruct them.
Karen leaps into action. Even Rebecca drops her smirk and gathers a quilt in her arms. That’s one thing about living in a small town. It doesn’t matter who your neighbors are or what you think of them, when they need help, you go. And judging from the explosion of orange embers, a fireworks show no one ever wants, these neighbors need all the help they can get.
8
Karen
The simple two-story house is blazing bright all down one side. The fire is so tall, even though it’s shooting up into the sky, it almost looks like an orange waterfall cascading over the charred siding.
“Something’s wrong.” Luke points to the sole firetruck on the scene. “He should be pumping by now.” He pushes through the growing crowd and I follow him. Behind me, Rebecca freezes in place, holding blankets in her arms as she stares, unblinking, at the flames.
People are gathering near. Like us, some have brought blankets. Others are holding flashlights, first aid kits. A few are even carrying small fire extinguishers in their hands. There are some deep divides in this town, ancient land disputes, and grudges between families that go back generations. Still, no one cares about any of that now. People who won’t even sit next to each other in church are working together to try to help however they can. Why does it take the worst moments in life to finally bring out the best in people?
“What’s going on?” Luke demands. My brother, Kirk, is frantically pulling levers and pushing valves and trying to get the pump operating as Joshua and Todd wait for the water that isn’t coming out, holding the impotent hose pointed toward the fire.
“It’s not working!” Kirk yells over the roar of the fire.
Not far off the sirens announce more trucks heading our way. Luke helps my brother with the levers, but nothing seems to help. Suddenly the front door of the house bursts open and a shrieking woman catapults out.
“Help! Please, oh my God! My baby is inside. Noah!” She turns back toward the house in panic and starts to run back inside.
“Grab her!” Kirk yells.
Todd rushes forward, practically tackling her to the ground. Still, the woman doesn’t stop fighting. She claws frantically at the dirt, trying to drag herself out from under him to save her child.
My oldest brother leads her to a large group of people standing nearby. They huddle around her, offering her water and covering her shoulders with blankets as they hold her back.
“Noah’s still in there. And my husband too,” she cries. “Gerry! Noah! For the love of God, please save my baby.” She sobs. “Please, please, don’t let him die!”
The rest of the trucks drive up and the onlookers scatter out of the way, pulling the woman with them. I think her name is Leah, but I’m not sure. Even though she’s been our neighbor for a few years now, I’ve rarely seen her leave her house. Whe
n she has, she’s been very tight-lipped and nervous. I’m pretty sure she hid behind a bush once when my parents tried to say hello to her.
“Someone do something! Noah! Come to Mommy, honey. Come out here,” she yells through her sobs. “Baby, please. Someone, please! Save him!” She tries to break free from the group, pushing past them to run into the burning house, but there are too many of them and they easily hold her back.
Luke’s dad directs the team to fight the fire from the outside. They finally manage to get water pumping, but it’s doing little to douse the flames. Crimson streaks stretch up to the stars as the flames grow taller, almost like they’re a defiant teen, puffing up their chest and standing their ground against their parents.
I’m not sure what to do. I have no idea how to help. At least Luke knew how to get the pumper going. I’ve grown up in the fire department just as much as him, and I have no clue. I’ve spent so much of my life trying to be different from the rest of my family, trying to draw a clear line in the dirt between me and them, I never realized I’d shut out the goodness in them too. I don’t know the first thing about fighting fires. I’m not brave enough to put on that uniform and risk my life for someone else's. I’ve spent so much time being ashamed of the scrap heap, turning away from the twisted aluminum and ugly junk that I never even saw the gold heart beating inside.
Luke’s father, Mr. Murphy, rushes to the woman screaming. He grabs her by both shoulders and gives her a little shake, pulling her from the near catatonic state she’s slipped into. “Who’s in there?” he yells.
“Noah. He’s three. He’s so little. His hands are so small.” She stares down at her own palms. “Gerry too, but please, please, save my baby,” she wails.
“Where is he?”
“His room is at the backside, that corner.” She points to the side of the house that hasn’t been completely engulfed yet.
“Are your stairs on that side?” He jerks his head.
“No.” She collapses against him. “The stairs were already burning up when I got out. What am I going to do? I can’t do this. I can’t live this life without my baby.” She falls to her knees and sobs into the ground.
I run over and kneel beside her, wrapping my arms around her. I don’t know this woman, but I don’t have to. Her pain, her fear, it’s all of ours tonight. Every person in this crowd is sending up the same prayer. A plea for her child’s safety.
Luke’s dad walks over to Byron. “I’ve gotta go in.”
It’s next to impossible to hear them talk, but from the way Byron is shaking his head from side to side, it’s not hard to understand what he’s saying.
“… Not structurally sound …”
“Doesn’t matter … you’re in charge now … gotta try …”
Luke’s mother, Marie, joins in with this woman’s shrieking. I watch as she tries to grab her husband. She throws her weight on his arm, but Byron easily holds her back. He says something to her and she stops, calming herself down enough that the two men grab a ladder from the truck and get it set up to a window on the top floor.
“Just hold it steady. Let me do this … too risky for both of us …” Luke’s dad calls out.
Byron nods and does as he’s told. Rung by rung, Mr. Murphy doesn’t hesitate for a second as he climbs upward into danger. He smashes out the window and disappears inside. The rest of the firefighters, including my family, do their best to contain the flames, but the fire is just too big.
Seconds feel like hours. Luke is standing next to me, his eyes on the window. The same window we’re all watching. It’s taking too long. A murmur ripples through the crowd as the woman rocks back and forth on the ground, choking on her tears.
“I’m going up,” Byron yells. Luke’s mother protests, but he ignores her. With the size of him, there’s nothing that could ever get between him and what he decides he’s going to do anyway. He also disappears inside and we collectively hold our breaths, waiting.
It probably only takes a minute, but it has to be the longest sixty seconds in the history of this town. Finally, Byron comes back to the window, holding a very terrified, but very much alive little boy in his arms. The crowd cheers wildly, louder than the fire, louder than the gushing water, louder than the little boy’s wailing. Byron looks even larger than his already giant self when he’s holding a child so small in his arms. Carefully, he plods down the ladder. When his feet finally hit the ground and the woman rushes from my side and grabs Noah, everyone collectively sighs in relief.
But everything isn’t okay. The child has burns up his arm. And Byron looks like his neck may have been exposed to the fire.
“Where’s Bob?” Luke’s mother shouts and my attention snaps back up to the window.
Oh shit.
“Where is he?” she screams, but no one answers.
The house creaks and snaps loudly, making it impossible to look away as the roof collapses down and the flames engulf the building.
“No!”
The house falls in on itself and the fire just seems to grow and grow.
“Dad!” Luke shouts, holding out his hands. “Oh, fuck! Dad!”
Orange sparks shoot into the sky as Luke and his mother fall against each other, both of them knowing they’ll never see the most important man in their lives again.
9
Luke
The church is packed tight. There must be close to two hundred people in here. And what’s crazy is there has to be close to a thousand more people lining the street outside. We drove past them, mostly firefighters and first responders in uniform from all over the state, paying their respects to my father. A firefighter’s death is never taken lightly, but when it happens in the line of duty, everyone wants to tip their hat to the casket.
Even through her coma of grief, Mom was in awe of the complete strangers standing shoulder to shoulder on this road. Some were saluting, many were crying, all of them suffering the loss of a great man they probably didn’t even know. That’s okay, though, I knew him. I know he deserved the respect of each and every one of them.
Glancing around, I think every teacher I had at the local school is here today. Of course, the entire fire department are up here in the front with Byron, my cousin Hannah, Mom and me. These seats are for family and they fit the bill. Dad always said there were three types of family, the ones you were born into, the ones you choose for yourself and the ones who choose you. These people chose Dad, they chose us, and they’re as close as any family can be.
There’s only one face missing from this crowd that I care about. Where is she? I twist in my seat for the millionth time, scanning the packed church for her. Even for some sign that her family is here, but they aren’t. It burns me up inside. Like salt in an open gash, her absence stomps down on my already broken heart.
The minister finishes up his speech and calls out for my uncle to give the eulogy. Byron nods, adjusting the tie that looks too tight around his thick, bandaged neck and stoically walks to the front. Mom doesn’t look at him. She hasn’t lifted her head all day. Last night, when she thought I was asleep, I went to grab some water from the kitchen and I think I overheard her talking to him. My father, that is. It wasn’t like how you see some people talk at a gravestone, more speaking their thoughts out loud than really carrying on a conversation. No. Mom was talking like she could see him. Like he was there. She was sitting on the couch, twisted toward the end, as if he was sitting next to her. She was reaching out like she could touch him and pausing in her conversation for what I can only guess was his turn to speak.
I know the doctor gave her something to help her sleep, but I’m still worried. How am I supposed to leave her behind and head out across the country when I know she’s having imaginary conversations with my dead father? How can I, in good conscience, take her only child away from her only a couple weeks after she buried her husband?
I can’t.
Byron unfolds his sheets of paper. His hands tremble slightly as he smooths them out. From under
his uniform you can see glimpses of the bandages. They twist up around the side of his neck and face. He looks redder than usual, but it’s not because of the burns. It’s because they had to shave his beard off at the hospital. It’s strange seeing him without it. I never realized just how much he looked like my dad until now. I mean, I’ve always joked that he was Dad’s after picture on steroids, but now that I can see the same cleft in his jaw. The same shaped smile. It’s eerie.
“Please, bear with me.” Byron nervously shuffles from foot to foot. He looks out at our pew and his daughter, Hannah, gives him a friendly nod of approval. He softens, seeming to let go of the anxiety and focuses on her.
“We are here today to remember an honorable man, a loving husband, a wonderful father and the best big brother a boy could ask for.” Byron smiles, his eyes misting up. “I always called him my big-little brother because somewhere around fourteen I shot up past him. Since he was the guy I measured all greatness by, it was a pretty proud moment for me. It was one I never let him forget.” He chuckles and a ripple a polite laughter fills the church to the eaves.
Mom finally looks up, as if she’s realized for the first time where we are. Her eyes wander around the space and then find their way back to her lap once more.
“And I think the reason I liked to rub it in Bob’s face that I was taller than him was because he was bigger than me in every other way. As a child he was not only the first to do everything, he just did them better. He was an athlete, a scholar, he always dated the pretty girls and then he married a beautiful woman who eclipsed all of them. He did everything so well, I should’ve spent my time being jealous. But it was impossible because on top of all that, he was the kindest more caring big-little brother in the world too.”
Byron takes a deep breath and when he exhales, it’s shaky. In the audience I can hear the sniffles starting. People around me begin to dab their eyes and bow their heads.
Forged by Fire: A Small Town Second Chance Romance Page 5
