by Jewel Allen
“I think it’s sad.” Ben gazed at me with wise eyes. “Just because someone ruins your garden doesn’t mean you should ruin their life. If he could only see how cute gophers were.”
And then he was off to play.
I watched George install his pyrotechnics while I fixed a quick dinner of mac and cheese. Selina puttered out and talked to him for a minute.
I watched with envy at what they had. George might not be all there, but at least he and his wife still had something.
I thought back to Stratton. We had so much going for us. As time went on, it was easier to see those things.
Speaking of fireworks, that had never been the problem between Stratton and me. It was the long stretches in between that had done us in. I wished we could go back to the fireworks phase, when everything we did and said thrilled the other.
Sadly, it would take more than fireworks to fix our marriage.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Stratton
The call came at five p.m. on the second day of my shift, one October day.
“Alcohol poisoning,” Hunter said. “Fourteen-oh-two—”
“High Plains Drive,” I finished, shaking my head.
“Something wrong, Cap?” Hunter asked.
I climbed into the engine, my boots feeling heavier than usual. “It’s my dad’s house.”
He gave me a sympathetic glance. Here was my annual, paternal alcohol poisoning rescue.
My brother Jem still downed drinks with him once in a while, and I wondered if he had called this one in. Kennedy had met Dad a few times, but I made sure to limit their interaction. Especially with the kids. I didn’t have to avoid too many family events though. Between odd jobs while sober, he basically drank himself slowly but surely to death.
I’d stopped caring. There was only so much I could do without feeling like I would be drowning too, if I weren’t careful.
We pulled up into my childhood neighborhood, a ramshackle street lined with a hodge-podge of house designs ranging from a house with an unfinished façade to townhomes. Somehow, our gray rambler had survived the test of time. Probably not for long though.
Jem, as I’d expected, stood at the front door to let us in. We nodded to each other. I was three years his senior but he looked like an older, heavier version of myself. If ever there was a wake-up call for him to stop following in Dad’s footsteps, I hoped he was paying attention here.
“I got here a half hour ago,” Jem said. “He was passed out on the couch.”
“Dad’s improving,” I said. “It was three o’clock last time.”
Jem averted his eyes. “Thanks for coming yourself. I know this isn’t your favorite call.”
“You think?” I walked past him to the living room. I couldn’t even begin to describe the filth. It was worse than a pig sty. The stench of rotting food and alcohol mingled in the air.
I looked down at the shell of the man I grew up resenting.
He was sprawled on his back on the couch. Hunter passed me with his medical bag and monitor and began checking his vitals. “We’ll need to rehydrate him in the ambo, Cap.”
I nodded, feeling extremely ill myself. I checked around for any other possible hazards, and then wished that a fire would rage through the house and burn it down to a rubble.
The crew carried my dad on the stretcher while I followed into fresh air, taking in lungfuls to replace that nightmare. Jem came over and shoved his hands in his pockets. Gone was his usual happy-go-lucky smile.
“What should we do with him, Strat?”
“We’ve talked about this before, Jem. There’s really nothing anyone can do. Not unless he helps himself.”
“You know he’s going to kill himself eventually.”
My heart was unmoved. “That would be a tender mercy.”
Jem closed his eyes, then opened them. “I don’t get you. You can stand there spouting those things off when you claim to help people.”
“We’ve tried, Jem. You know we have. He’s good for a little while and then goes back to this. I’m done. Especially since I’m having to wrangle my own set of problems.”
“I know he’s never been good to you, but maybe you could consider letting go of your anger.”
I clenched my fists. “He almost killed me as a kid, Jem. You wouldn’t know because you were just little. And I’m glad for your sake he never beat you. But I sure don’t appreciate the sermon about forgiving and forgetting because you won’t get it from this guy.”
Jem stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Hey, I heard about Kennedy from the grapevine, by the way. Thanks a lot for telling me.”
“Sorry, I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”
“Saved me from putting my foot in my mouth with my sister-in-law. She’s the only good thing going for you and you had to spoil it.”
I swung around and grabbed him by the shirt collar. “Don’t think I don’t know it.”
Jem blinked, looking shook up. I let him go and took a couple of steps back. “Sorry,” I said. “It was hard to admit I messed up.”
“Sure, I get it.” Jem visibly relaxed. “Man, I’m really sorry. She’s one of a kind.”
“Yes, she is.”
“And the kids…”
“It’s not over,” I said gruffly. “We’re doing what’s called a ‘trial separation.’”
Jem raised an eyebrow. “You mean like probation before your actual break-up?”
I turned from him. “I gotta go. Take care of yourself, Jem.”
“His yard sure could use a haircut once in a while.” Jem gazed around at the scraggly mess, littered with junk and broken patio furniture.
I bit back a retort that he should do it. I’d mowed Dad’s lawn occasionally where the grass managed to grow. With the weather turning cool, the lawn actually had more grass than dandelions.
“I’ll see what I can do.” I kicked at a rusted piece of metal. “It’s a little tough right now with me trying to test for—.”
“Hey, it’s cool.” Jem glanced at the ambo. “Dad probably won’t notice anyway.”
I bristled. “I said I would.”
“Well, don’t let it cramp your career.”
My fist clenched at the unspoken criticism. Jem and I disagreed about a lot of things, not the least of which was how much help we should give Dad versus expecting him to do more for himself. I may have been a bit bitter still that Jem was spared Dad’s violence so he looked at him in a better light. Jem certainly thought more than I did that Dad deserved extra chances.
I gave Jem a curt goodbye and joined the crew in the ambulance. I didn’t usually go to the hospital on routine medicals, but I felt obligated on this one.
When we rolled in with the gurney, Shanna looked up from the nurse’s station, gazing at me with uncertainty. I simply plowed on through the hallway, hardly acknowledging her. If she as much as tried to flirt with me, I would lose it.
Another nurse checked him into a room and switched him to a hospital IV. I felt nothing looking down at my unconscious father. I felt no pity. No sorrow. Nothing. I’d felt more for a complete stranger before. Jem arrived and plopped down in a chair. With a tilt of my head, I left the room and went back to the ambulance to wait for my guys. My duty done, I ordered for everyone to head back to the station.
On our way out, we would be passing Shanna again. She sized me up, and appeared to take a deep breath, like she was getting up the nerve to talk to me. I was prepared to treat her coolly when Weston stepped right in front of her.
“Nice to see you,” she told Weston, arching an eyebrow. “But I need to talk to Strat—”
“How about you leave our Cap alone?” Weston growled.
She looked past him to me. “I know he’s had a rough day.”
“Like all our days are.” Weston motioned with his thumb over his shoulder.
Hunter stepped forward. “Um, Shanna, you’re needed somewhere else.”
Her face turned red with embarrassment. She looked to t
he rest of us, then to me, but no one came to her defense. She shoved Weston at the shoulder as she huffed past and down the hall.
“Sorry, Cap,” Weston said. “But that lady needed to be put in her place. I’m doing it for Mrs. M.”
I chuckled. “I’m perfectly capable taking care of myself, Weston. But just the same, thanks.”
“Think she got the message?”
“Pretty sure she did.”
Hours later, I got a call from the hospital saying that my father was awake and was asking for me. I took a radio and jumped in the 4x4, then drove to the hospital with every intention to make it a quick visit.
Dad was sitting on the edge of his bed. His bare legs looked thin and wasted. His greasy, scraggly hair fell in his eyes as he raised his head at my arrival.
He smiled, revealing a bad set of teeth. “Jem said you helped me out again.”
I nodded, staying at the door and not coming any closer.
He bristled. “I can’t talk to you good when you’re so far like that.”
I could have told him things. Like the fact that I was testing for battalion chief and what a stress it had been. I hadn’t even told him about Kennedy, not that he would have noticed. Jem at least had the sense to ferret it out of me.
“You’re welcome, Dad,” I said in an even tone. “Did you have anything else to tell me? Because I need to get back to fighting fires.”
He flinched as if I’d tried to hit him. “I’m sorry, son. I tried, really tried the last time.”
I used to believe him.
His sobs sounded like a dog whining for his supper. After a while, when I couldn’t bear to hear it one more second, I turned and left.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kennedy
The nice thing with working a job and having my own bank account was I didn’t have to argue with Stratton about buying the children costumes for Halloween.
Ben wanted to be, what else, a Jedi, while Evie dressed as Princess Leia. They looked so cute. I got off early so that I could take them trick-or-treating. We stopped at the Andersons’ place first, where George and Selina met the children in matching gas masks.
“I like your costume, Mr. Anderson,” Ben said.
“Oh, do you?” George’s eyes twinkled. “This is my day mask. To get rid of those pesky gophers.”
“But they’re so cute,” Ben continued his pro-gopher crusade.
Selina interjected, “This young man and young lady look like they need some candy.”
“Of course.” George poured a handful into the children’s plastic pumpkin buckets. “Have fun tonight, kids.”
Selina looked at me. “And Mom. You do such a good job, my dear.”
My eyes filled with tears. I needed to hear some encouraging words. It was tough balancing full-time work at the motel, taking care of household chores, and still being a mom. All while my marriage still hung in the balance. “Thanks, Selina.”
“Where are you off to next?” Selina asked me.
“We’ll probably hit a couple of neighborhoods and then…the fire station.”
“Of course.” Selina brightened and beamed at the kids. “Off to see your dad, are you, kiddies?”
I took the kids around neighborhoods, like I promised them. Evie struggled to keep up with Ben, but she bounced with excitement every time she got candy.
Finally, we circled down the road past the high school and turned into the fire station parking lot. The fire engine was out. A dozen Lake Powell firefighters were giving candy to a line of costumed kids behind rows of orange cones.
I immediately saw Stratton, standing by the engine cab. So did Ben, who pulled at my hand, wanting to bypass the whole line to get to his daddy. Stratton smiled and excused himself, walking over to us.
I hadn’t seen him for a few days. It looked like he’d gotten a haircut. A familiar flutter tickled my stomach watching my hubby swagger toward us in his turnout pants and fitted station shirt. Attracting the attention of most females helping their kid at that parking lot.
“Daddy!” Little Evie raised her arms to Stratton, who carried her. Ben rushed at him, too, so of course he had to pick them both up. His biceps flexed as he held both kids up effortlessly.
He came up to me, his eyes roving over my face and shirt and back. I had carefully picked out a shirt with a flattering fit. “Hello, Kennedy.”
“Hi.”
Stratton turned to the kids. “Are you guys having fun?”
“Yeah,” Ben said with enthusiasm. “But where’s the candy?”
“You need to line up like everyone else, buddy,” I reminded him.
He looked put out but stopped complaining like the good boy he was.
“Guess what, though?” Stratton said. “Hunter’s got a special treat just for you.”
Ben wiggled out of his arms and to the ground. “He does?” Ben made his way around the line and down to Hunter. Evie wanted down too, leaving me and Stratton walking side by side.
“We’ll be right back,” Hunter told us, leading the children by the hand to the station. Ransom came along too.
I shouldn’t have been so nervous, but I was. The way Stratton looked at me, admiring, made me feel self-conscious.
“You look beautiful, Kennedy,” he said.
The flutter turned into a nice little buzz that made me light-headed. “Thanks.”
He touched my hair. “Did you get a new haircut? There’s something different about you.”
I lowered my eyes, then lifted them to his blue ones. “No, actually, I need a haircut.”
“It’s like you’re glowing or something.” He paused. “You look confident.”
“Do I? Thanks, I guess. I just got a raise.”
“That’s great.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and cocked his head. “Hey, Kennedy?”
I glanced at him curiously. “Yeah?”
He looked around. “I need to ask you something, but probably not right here with everyone?”
I gestured to the station. “The kids might come out soon though, and I won’t be right here.”
“We’ll go that direction. Cut them off if they come out.”
“Okay.” My mind sifted through possibilities. Maybe he wanted to date someone else. Maybe…
He slowed as we got farther from the crowd. “I finally heard back from the counseling office, but the dates you gave me won’t work.”
I stopped in my tracks. “So we shouldn’t do it?”
“No, that’s not it at all. I think one of us will need to take the day off so we can go in sooner.”
“One of us?” I arched an eyebrow. “Or do you mean I should?”
“I’m sure I’ll sound like a broken record, but—”
“—with your battalion testing, it won’t work,” I finished. I tried to mask my frustration with a shrug. “No biggie. I’ll ask for a day off.”
“Are you sure?”
“Well,” I turned to him, exasperated, “are you willing to take a day off or scratch your name off the OT list?”
“It’s not a question of willingness…”
“What is it a question of then?” I put a hand on my hip, glaring at him.
“Kennedy.” His voice quieted. “My going for battalion chief was one that we both prayed and decided on together, remember? You said you would support it, or…”
I felt my temper rising. “Or what?”
“Or I would never have gone down that path.”
“Really?” My gaze bore down on him. “You wouldn’t have?”
He shook his head. “No.”
I felt like crying. Part of me wanted to believe that, but part of me also didn’t. His career had meant so much to him, not so much his job, but the responsibility that went with it. As we mulled over the decision, he had spoken of his noble plans for the battalion, things he would do different from the current chief. He had been so excited. Naturally, I wanted him to go for his dream and succeed at it. Stratton was a natural-born leader, and his r
ough upbringing made him a perfect choice of a mentor for those who needed the extra grit to get hard things done.
I didn’t think I had a choice, really, in the matter, but now he was saying I did. I didn’t recall a specific time when he sat me down and said I could put a stop to all of this had I wanted him to. I might never have taken up on it, not wanting to be the woman who got between him and a goal which I was sure would have been a satisfying one for him.
Knowing the strain it would put on our marriage, I might have expressed some reluctance, but putting on the brakes completely? Not right away.
Stratton had stared off into the distance, probably mulling over his dilemma. Exhaustion was written all over his face, his posture. I wondered what calls he’d had to deal with lately. After he gave me the letter, he hadn’t reached out to me again, though I wished he would.
In the newspaper, I had read about some teenagers getting swept by a flash flood in a nearby canyon and only one of them coming out of the ordeal alive. Could he have been on that call?
“I’ll take the day off,” I said in a gentler tone.
His eyes flicked to mine, surprise in their depths. “I know it’s asking a lot…”
“And you have a lot on your plate.”
My strong, burly firefighter husband who ran into burning buildings and rescued people teared up. He watched my hand’s progress until my fingers came to his stubble, resting them at his jaw. His eyes closed, and his chin trembled as he leaned against my touch. No tears escaped but I could feel his whole being turning to me with gratitude.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Stratton
Weeks later, I smoothed my hair down and walked up to Kennedy’s parents’ front porch. Coming here brought back bad memories I thought I’d buried long ago. At this porch, I got the third degree from her dad, which eventually led to us eloping. And he’d been slow to forgive me since. Even two grandkids later.
“How are you?” came Judge Davis’ booming voice as he opened the front door. I never stopped calling him Judge Davis and he never corrected me. You’d think after ten years and two grandkids, we’d be on first-name or in-law basis, but he was still the judge who wanted to lock up my brother Jem for parking fines.
