by M. Leighton
I half laugh, half sigh. “Nice, Shane. Real nice.”
Shaking my head, I wrench my arm free and turn to walk away, not giving anyone an explanation. They can make up whatever story suits them. I’ve got a life and a future to tend to.
It’s as I’m nearing the door that I hear the explosion. And I feel the gush of heat.
THIRTY-FOUR: Jake
I’m not at all surprised when the siren goes off. I knew something would happen tonight. I just knew it.
When the call comes in, I think little of the address. The church’s fellowship hall. If I’m not mistaken, it’s equipped with a full, commercial-style kitchen. Grease fires happen all the time in places like that. Makes a shitload of smoke, but generally they aren’t too out of control, staying confined mostly to the kitchen.
But then, just as four of us are piling into the truck, we get word that it was a propane tank explosion. And that the hall was full of people. For an engagement party.
My never-wrong gut twists and I feel a cold sweat break out on my brow. I have one thought. Of one face.
Laney.
It’s her. I know it’s her. Laney’s in town. She’s there and there’s been an explosion.
I don’t even try to imagine what kind of function she might be in town for that’s held at the church. The dull ache in my chest seems to think it’s to celebrate her reunion with her fiancé. But right now, it really doesn’t matter what she’s in town for. I don’t give a big ugly shit about her fiancé. All I care about is that she’s not in danger. That she’s not lying on the ground somewhere, burning alive.
A burst of nausea tears through my gut at the mental image of Laney covered in third degree burns. I’ve seen it too many times, been to too many fires that were raging before we could make it to the scene.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the image, reminding myself that this is a small town. It will only take us a few minutes to be onsite. Helping. Saving lives. Controlling the fire.
Saving Laney.
When the truck makes the turn onto the street, I look out the window. The first thing I see is a sign at the front of the street that says, CONGRATULATIONS, SHANE AND LANEY. My heart sinks at that.
And it sinks even lower when we pull into the lot and I see the wreckage.
“Looks like the tank wasn’t full or it would’ve blown that place to bits,” Ronnie says.
I’m not comforted. One wall was blown out completely. Fire is eating away at the rest. And the roof is hanging precariously over it all.
“Respirators on, guys,” Chip yells. I look around. They’re already in place. We all know what to expect.
My heart is racing by the time we pull to a stop and everyone jumps out to do what we do best.
Behind the shield of my helmet, I process the scene as I approach. I scan the tear-streaked and smoke-smudged faces. I search the bewildered and terrified eyes. I see it all. I take it all in. But the one thing I want most to see, the one person I want most to see, is nowhere to be found.
Turning my body 360 degrees, I scan the crowd once more for Laney. There are a lot of people out here. Surely this is the majority of those who were in attendance. The building isn’t that big. But in all these faces I don’t see the only one I care about. The only one that matters. And I know, deep down, that nothing will matter again if I don’t find her. Dead or alive.
I ask one of the more coherent people I pass, “Is anyone left inside?”
She nods, sobbing all the while.
“Is Laney in there?”
Again she nods. “She went back in a few minutes ago. She was helping people out, but there were some still inside . . .”
Before the woman can finish, I turn to Chip and motion that I’m going inside. I run up the short flight of stairs and step through the doorway, careful not to touch anything.
The room is ablaze. The curtains are on fire. The flower arrangements on the tables are on fire. There are flaming pieces of paper floating through the air. There are blazing bits of banner scattered across the floor. Some of the exposed beams from the ceiling have let go on one end to form what looks like a flame-soaked obstacle course.
Across the room, I see the gaping hole where the one wall was blown to bits. I also see where the remaining three are struggling to support the weight of the sagging roof.
This place is gonna go any minute now.
I have to find Laney.
I look through the bright orange haze, searching the billows of smoke for her pale head, but I see nothing. I see no upright bodies. No movement. No life.
I feel the beginnings of desperation set in. I look ahead and see a path that could possibly lead me safely into the center of the room, where I’ll have a better vantage point. Cautiously, I walk in that direction.
I turn the valve on my mask, something I know I shouldn’t do. “Laney!” I call, knowing full well that with the roar of the fire and the crackle of the structure giving way there’s no way she can hear me. But I yell again anyway. “Laney!”
As I duck beneath a huge wooden beam, I see the most glorious sight in the world—a shiny, blond head. I see Laney. She has something wrapped around her face, but I’d recognize her anywhere, wearing anything.
She’s making her way into the flames, going farther into the room. Lurching forward, I reach out for her, stopping her before she can go in any deeper. I spin her toward me and look into the face I’ve missed so much. I see recognition light her eyes, and she throws her arms around me.
So tight I could probably hurt her, I wrap my arms around her and lift her off the ground. Holding her against my chest, I turn and hurry back the way I came. My heart is racing, but this time with gratitude. And relief. And something else.
When I reach the door, I’m hesitant to release Laney, but I feel her struggling, so I let her down. There are tears in her eyes when she looks up at me. Tears and sheer panic.
“Jake, there are still people in there!” she says frantically.
I push her hair back from her face to get a good look at her. She looks all right, just freaked out. “Shhh, Laney, it’s okay. We’ll get them out. Don’t worry.”
“No, Jake, you don’t understand. I have to go back in there. Please.”
“Laney, let us take care of it. It’s—”
Chip taps my shoulder and cuts me off. I turn to him, and he’s shaking his head. “The roof is collapsing, Jake. No one goes back in until we can get past the tank in the back and through that blown-out wall. Stay put.”
I look to Laney. Her eyes are wide and terrified.
“Wh-what does that mean? They’re not going to just leave them in there, are they? Jake, I have to go back in there. I—”
“Just give us a few minutes to get in through the back. He’s saying it’s no longer safe to cross the room. We have to get in through the back.”
“No!” Laney starts to run past me, but I grab her around the waist. She struggles like a wild thing. “There’s no time!”
“Laney, stop! You have to—”
“You don’t understand. It’s my father. He’s in there. He and Shane were at the very front when it happened. Jake, my father is in there!” she cries, her agony tearing through my chest like it’s my own. “Please let me go back in there. Please!”
For a tenth of a second, my mind scrambles for the best way forward. None of the firemen will go back in until Chip gives the go-ahead. I’m sure as hell not letting Laney go back in there. But I couldn’t live with myself if this heartbreak, this utter devastation was the last thing I saw on her beautiful face.
That means there’s only one thing I can do. One thing I can do for Laney. For once in my life, I can help and not hurt someone that I love. For once in my life, I’ll prove my father wrong. Even if it kills me. Even if it means giving up my life for the two people in hers that I dislike the most.
It’s for Laney. And that’s all that matters.
Before anyone can stop me, and without another word, I turn and
run back into the flames in search of Laney’s loved ones.
THIRTY-FIVE: Laney
“Nooo!”
The word is ringing so loudly in my ears, I hear nothing else. Pain is resonating in my chest so deeply, I feel nothing else.
I know that there are arms wrapped around me. I know that someone is preventing me from going after Jake, from stopping him. From saving him.
I didn’t want for him to risk his life for theirs. I simply wanted him to let me go, let me make the choice, make the sacrifice if it had to be made.
But not Jake.
Never Jake.
A burn more devastating than ten fiery buildings is consuming my heart as I watch the very spot where I saw him disappear into the flames. My entire being, my entire world is focused on that one sliver like my life depends on what comes back out.
Because it does.
I won’t be able to live with myself if Jake doesn’t come back out. I won’t be able to survive the rest of my days without him. And knowing that he died to save the people I love . . .
I crumble inside the arms that restrain me, my legs no longer strong enough to support me. I hear someone screaming Jake’s name in the distance. The voice sounds like mine, but it can’t be. It can’t be me. I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t even think past the mind-numbing panic that’s coursing through my body, through my soul. All I can do is stare, stare at the place where I saw him last and wait . . .
It seems an eternity has passed when I see movement. My lungs cease to expand, my heart ceases to beat until I see the clear form of Jake cutting through the haze. My relief is more profound than any emotion I’ve ever experienced.
Until he lays down his human cargo and turns to go back inside.
The arms that held me suddenly disappear, and I see people rush to the man lying prone on the ground. After a few seconds, I see my mother come into my view, falling to her knees beside the person just sitting up. It’s my father. I squeeze my eyes shut over my tears when I see him wrap one arm around her shoulders and lean into her.
But then an even more painful realization slices through me. Jake went back in.
To get Shane.
He’s risking his life for a man like Shane. Because he thinks it matters to me.
The tears come freely now, and without end. I sit on the ground, surrounded by hurt people and emergency workers and stretches of hose, and my heart melts right inside my chest.
“Please God, please God, please God!” is all I can make out. Over and over and over again. Every nerve, every cell, every bit of light that I am as a person cries out to Him for mercy. And I watch the doorway . . .
When Jake appears this time, he sets down the body he’s carrying. As he turns, stripping off his helmet as he goes, his eyes search for me. I struggle to my feet, to stand until he can see me.
And he does.
And he waits.
He waits for me.
Maybe like he’s always waited for me.
Like I’ve always waited for him.
THIRTY-SIX: Jake
I watch Laney take shaky step after shaky step toward me. Toward us. Shane, her fiancé, is lying in the grass just behind me. If ever there was a choice for her to make, now’s the time. Her actions will speak volumes. And I’ll do nothing to influence them.
Closer and closer she gets. Harder and harder my heart beats. What will she do? What will she do?
When she’s five or six steps from me, she glances down at Shane and my chest gets tight. But then, as if she was only paying him the simplest of courtesies, she launches herself into my arms and smashes her lips to mine.
I’ve always heard Jenna and her friends go on and on about all the different things a kiss can mean. Now I think I understand what they were talking about.
In this kiss is declaration. In it is acceptance. In it is passion and perseverance, hope and happiness. In it is everything I’ve ever needed and everything I never thought I’d want. It’s everything because she’s everything.
All the voices, all the sounds, all the activity around us is muted when she leans back and looks deep into my eyes. “You saved me, Jake.”
I smile. “You saved me first.”
For a few seconds, I think of spilling my guts, right here in the middle of a disaster area. But I think better of it when I hear a voice to my left.
“All right, hero, was there anyone else inside?” Chip asks. “If not, we need to get these flames put out and wrap this up.”
Leave it to a guy to interrupt such a great moment. I feel like snarling at him, Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?
But I guess my personal affairs are actually doing the interrupting. I’m here to do a job. To save lives and put out fires.
One down.
One to go.
I set Laney on her feet and wipe away a smudge from her pale cheek with my gloved finger. “Are you all right? Really?”
Her smile is wide and bright, and she nods enthusiastically. “I know it sounds weird, but I’ve never been better.”
I grin down at her. I know just what she means.
“I’ve gotta finish up here. I’ll find you later, ’kay?”
She nods again, her smile still intact. “Okay, I’m gonna go check on Daddy.”
She walks backward for a few steps, as reluctant to leave me as I am for her to go.
“Stay away from this building,” I say as I move toward the side of the hall, getting ready to replace my helmet. “You hear?”
She nods again and turns to walk to her father. I round the smoking structure to make my way to the back, to put this baby to bed.
* * *
Almost six hours later, I’m on my way home. The chief called in the backup shift to help with cleanup, which is something the bigger fire departments don’t get involved in. But Greenfield is small, and it’s more a neighborly gesture than anything else. With the reinforcements onsite, it allows those of us who were first-responders to come home for a break before resuming our shift.
My first thought was to go to Laney, but that might not be the best thing. If she’s still at the hospital being medically cleared with the other people from the church (which I heard had the ER backed up for hours) then there’s no reason for me to bother her there. If she’s at home sleeping, I definitely don’t want to bother her there. So I figure the best thing I can do is wait until morning. What I have to say can wait until then. It’s waited this long . . .
Coming down my driveway, my headlights hit a patch of blue just barely visible through the trees. That’s when I know I won’t have to wait. Laney’s at my house.
I pull up and park beside her car. The house is dark. I’m assuming she’s asleep since it’s late and she had a big night.
I cut the engine and get out, reaching into the back to get my gear. I jump when I hear a soft voice from the opposite side of the Jeep.
“Took you long enough.”
“Holy hot damn! You scared the shit out of me!”
Laney giggles. She must’ve been on the front porch, waiting.
I can hardly make her out on such a cloudy night with only a sliver of moon to see by. It looks like she’s changed clothes. She’s wearing something pale and, when she puts her foot on the tire and swings up into the Jeep, I can see that it’s short. Even in the low light, I can see lots and lots of long, tan leg.
My pulse picks up, and it has nothing to do with her sneaking up on me.
“What are you doing up? I figured you’d be asleep. You need rest.”
Laney moves to stand on the backseat, her bare feet on the cushion and her back braced against the roll bar.
“Who can sleep after a night like tonight?” She pauses before she adds, “And I don’t mean the fire.”
Here we go!
I take a deep breath. I knew this was coming. By giving in to what’s between us, that means I have to be open with her. She’ll expect that. But hell, she couldn’t even wait until morning?
Setting my bag on the ground, I hop into the backseat of the Jeep, repositioning her feet to the space on the seat between my legs. She might as well get comfortable. If we’re gonna talk, there’s no time and place like the present.
THIRTY-SEVEN: Laney
Jake settles my feet back between his legs and leans his head back. Looking down on him, all I can see is his shadowed face and the occasional sparkle of the low light in his eyes.
I didn’t come here to pressure him. I came here to . . . to . . . I don’t know what. To be with him. To see if what happened was real. To see where we go from here.
I came because I couldn’t stay away.
And because, once again, I feel hope. And, this time, I need to know if it’s shared.
But I don’t want to move too fast. Jake has ghosts. Demons. Things he hasn’t wanted to share. Since I don’t know what they are, I can’t possibly know if I’m about to step on a landmine. It makes proceeding tricky. But not impossible. I just have to be patient.
That’s what I’m telling myself when I hear him sigh and feel his fingers touch the top of my bare feet and start absently making slow circles.
I’m thinking of how to start, of where to start when Jake speaks. His voice is low. And distant. He’s somewhere else in time. And, this time, he’s taking me along with him.
“When I was little, before Jenna was born, Mom and Dad used to take me out into the orchard with them almost every day. Sometimes we’d pick peaches. Sometimes we’d play hide-and-go-seek in the rows of trees. Sometimes we’d walk in the shallow parts of the river. We had breakfast and lunch and dinner together more often than not. Even after Mom got sick, we did a lot together. It was after she got pregnant with Jenna that things got so much worse.”
