Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “How many fire calls do you get a year?”
“About three hundred fire runs and two hundred miscellaneous ones, including mutual aid with four other volunteer departments that surround our town’s border. We keep pretty busy. You like to fight fires?”
She considered it a silly question. “Of course,” she answered, stung. “I didn’t put myself through the academy for a lark.”
Gil held up both hands. “Easy, I was only wondering.”
She felt a rapport with him and decided to take a chance. “Lieutenant, why aren’t you treating me like the plague? Most fire fighters would.”
He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, shifting his weight to one leg. “A couple of reasons, I guess. One, I’m not from Baybridge originally. Two, I’d like to consider myself open-minded about a woman doing this job.” He frowned. “If you prove to be able to handle the runs, I’ll be a hundred and ten percent behind you. But if you don’t cut it, I’ll be the first to recommend your dismissal,” he warned.
She compressed her lips. He was like all the rest. She would have to be twice as good as any male rookie and make half as many mistakes as any other man who might hold the same job. Well, it was too late to turn back and slink into her old way of life. When she had divorced Jack she had said goodbye to the suffocating lifestyle that she had led for six years.
“Are you saying that the rest of the fire fighters are locals?”
He ran his strong-looking fingers through his hair, pushing a stray strand off his forehead. “They are. As two outsiders, we might even call them clannish and backward,” he admitted ruefully. “This town is an agricultural area for the most part, with a few coal mines and coal trucks thrown in.”
Leah stepped away from him. She was drawn too easily to his quiet magnetism. He was handsome in an interesting way, a way that attracted her and at the same time frightened her. “Why are you being so helpful?” she demanded.
“Until you give me cause to treat you differently, I won’t discriminate on the basis of your sex.”
She eyed him distrustfully. She had run into two types of fire fighter thus far. One type disdained her completely and treated her with angry silence. The other type tried to seduce her, seemingly turned on by the thought of a woman doing a dangerous job. Gil Gerard seemed to be the latter…but she wasn’t sure.
She touched her brow, managing a fleeting smile of apology. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I sound like I’ve got a chip on my shoulder. It’s just that I’ve endured a hell of a lot of chauvinism.”
“Yeah, you got a little chip on your shoulder,” he commented, a slow grin pulling at his mouth. His eyes were dark and sparkled with mirth. “And I do have to admit, I did fight fires with a woman before I joined here, so I have a little more experience in the matter than the rest of the fellas.”
Leah’s eyes widened. “You did?”
Gil shrugged. “I was a volunteer fireman before I joined a paid department.”
“For how long?”
“Five years.”
“And how long have you been paid?”
“Three.”
She stared at him. “And you’ve made officer already?” There was a newfound respect in her voice. Being a fire officer wasn’t some cushy job gotten through political pull. No, the man or woman selected had to have a lot of intelligence and experience to be sending a fire team into unknown and many times dangerous situations.
“I’m good at taking tests,” he said, trying to minimize his credentials, as he led her around to the opposite wall where the turn-out gear was neatly hung.
“You have to be more than a good test taker to get the rank,” she observed seriously, stopping at his shoulder.
“Hmm, I suppose. Let’s try and find some gear that will fit you.” He emphasized the word fit. For the next half hour Leah tried on every coat and every pair of boots and bunker pants in the station. Nothing fit. It was all too large. Especially the boots. She sat on the chair, sliding off the last pair.
“We’ll have to order you an outfit,” Gil acknowledged as he hung the last coat back up on its hook. “Probably take a couple of weeks, if I know our dispatcher.”
Leah looked up at him sharply. “I’m not about to sit out fire calls for that period of time!”
“I wouldn’t let you anyway. For now, let’s get the closest fit, and tomorrow when we’re off duty I’ll take you up to Cleveland and we’ll get you some decent gear. Deal?”
Either he was an angel or he had an angle, Leah decided, mulling over the tempting invitation. She had just rented an apartment and most of her articles were still packed. It wouldn’t be much fun spending the day there alone. Furthermore, she was unacquainted with the area and knew it would be better if he were along. Still…she didn’t want to socialize with anyone here at the station. She had read enough articles in Fire Chief Magazine by women fire fighters to realize that irate wives would probably be calling to see if their husbands were “safe” from the new female at the station. Idly, she looked at his left hand. There was no wedding band there. That didn’t mean anything, though, and Gil had mentioned that he did like his days off. Many times the stress of fire fighting drove a wedge into a family, and divorce was too often the result.
“Well?”
“Oh…sorry, I was thinking. I’d appreciate it, Lieutenant, but I don’t want to take you away from—”
“No problem,” he returned smoothly. “I’ve made it a point to make sure my team has the best protection and the most training possible, and you’ll be no exception to that rule. You can’t effectively do your job in a pair of poorly fitting boots. You’d be falling all over yourself.”
Leah grinned. “That brings back a lot of memories. For the first two weeks at the academy I had a coat that was four sizes too big and boots that came off my feet every time I took a step.”
“You must have been damn good, then,” he praised, “because I got a chance to look at your academy records. Lousy-fitting gear would be enough to put some fire fighters out of commission altogether.”
She put her sensible black shoes back on and then stood up. “I couldn’t let that happen to me. I just gritted my teeth and told myself I was going to do it better than any of them, and I guess I did.”
He tilted his head, studying her in a new light. “I like your aggressiveness, Leah. Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of the crew. It’s almost time to pick straws to see who makes dinner tonight.” The other three fire fighters looked up when Gil escorted her into the kitchen-and-dining area. Leah automatically tensed, sensing the coldness in the air.
“Fellas, this is Leah Stevenson, our new member. She’s got eyes like a cat, from what she tells me.” He pointed to a small wiry man who had dark hair and eyes and an olive complexion. “This is Tony DiGeronimo, but everyone calls him Apache even though he’s Italian because no one can pronounce his last name in a hurry. He’s been on board for seven years and is one hell of a fire fighter.”
Tony sized her up. “Welcome aboard,” he said, smiling openly.
“And this good-looking string bean is Sam Wilson. He’s our driver and pump operator. He’s been on board for fifteen years and there isn’t a thing he doesn’t know about Darley pumps.”
Sam managed a sour grin, nervously turning his coffee mug in his hands, his lanky arms on the table. “Except for the Beast out there.”
She smiled shyly, trying desperately to appear relaxed beneath the men’s intense scrutiny. “Hi, Sam.”
Gil motioned to his right toward a man who was scowling darkly at her. “This is Duke Saxon and he’s been with us for three years. I think he’s been involved in about every dangerous structure fire we’ve ever made a run on. Always been at the wrong place at the right time.”
Duke stared in her direction; his black eyes were vicious looking. He was a huge, heavily muscled man, and it was clear he resented her presence.
Gil pulled out a chair for her. “Have a seat, Leah. Ho
w about some coffee?”
She turned. “That would be great. Thanks.”
“Since when did you ever wait on any of us?” Duke growled.
The rest of the fire fighters laughed nervously as Gil walked nonchalantly to the draining board and pulled down a cup. “If you were as good-looking, Duke, I might have done the same for you,” Gil retorted, his smile fixed. There was an unspoken warning in his look.
Leah sensed an immediate antagonism between the two men. Great, she thought, that’s all I need, to walk into the middle of a sparring session between an officer and a fire fighter. She thanked Gil nervously as he placed the cup in front of her, then took a quick sip and burned her tongue.
“Okay, who’s cooking today?” Gil asked, leaning against the draining board.
Duke snorted. “Let her.”
She raised her head, meeting his black glare. “I wasn’t hired as chief cook and bottle washer, Duke. I’ll take my turn like everyone else.”
The silence froze around them like brittle ice. Leah heard Gil sigh as he came over to the table. There was a deck of cards on the table and he picked them up, spreading them into a fanlike position. “Okay, everyone pick a card. Low man—that is, person—will be cook and bottle washer for the shift.”
To Leah’s relief, Apache got the two of hearts and he growled, getting to his feet.
“Okay, guys, you’re gettin’ spaghetti and meatballs—again,” he warned.
Sam Wilson groaned. “Give me the Rolaids now….”
The fire fighters kept up their banter all evening, excluding her unless Gil made a concerted effort to include her in the conversation. Leah sat in one of the old frayed chairs and watched television with the rest of them, but she wasn’t really listening to it. Her heart was filled with pain at the undercurrent of bitterness the men felt toward her. Duke made no bones about it at all and Sam ignored her as if she didn’t exist.
Wanting something to do, Leah got up and went out into the semilighted bay, walking around each engine to begin familiarizing herself with the equipment and where it was stowed. Each compartment held some particular instrument that might be needed on a moment’s notice at the scene of a fire. In one, all the electrical cords, a fan, and extra outlets were stored. In the rear of the main pumper were several spare air bottles. During a hot blaze, a fire fighter could go through two or three cylinders; each tank only contained thirty minutes’ worth of air supply, and fighting fire made a person breathe deeply and heavily because of the physical exertion.
She had spent more than a half hour out in the bay alone when she heard someone walking up behind her. Turning, she saw it was Duke Saxon.
“Whatya doing, trying to impress the lieutenant by being gung ho?” he sneered.
Leah moistened her lips and ordered her body to remain relaxed although her heart was hammering wildly in her chest. She lifted her chin and met his hooded stare.
“I don’t have to impress anyone.”
“Yeah, you do.”
“Look, it’s pretty obvious you don’t want me around here, and I can live with that,” she began tightly.
“Bet you had to live with that down at the academy, too. You may be a good-lookin’ broad, but that don’t make you no fireman, honey. Hell, if you weigh over one-forty, I’ll quit the force.”
“Weight’s got nothing to do with it,” she countered icily.
“Like hell it don’t. You tryin’ to tell me that if I get in trouble in a burning structure and you gotta drag me out with air pak on that you can do it? I weigh close to three hundred pounds with all that gear on.” He snorted, his eyes narrowing. “No way, honey, no way.” He raised his finger, pointing at her. “But I’m gonna tell you something and it had better stick the first time around—you screw up with me and it will be your last day on the force.”
Her body was galvanized with fury. “I’ll remember that, Saxon,” she promised, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You do that, honey. Sam and Apache feel the same. None of us wants you around here except that damn lieutenant of ours.” Duke shook his head. “He’s an outsider like you are, so what the hell does he know?”
“Stevenson?” It was Gil’s voice ringing through the bay. She gasped softly, turning in his direction. Through the dimness she saw his head and broad shoulders, looking incredibly strong in the shadows. Saxon gave her one last glare and turned away, then melted back into the darkness, avoiding Gil completely.
“Listen, before you turn in tonight I want—” he stopped, frowning. “You all right?”
“Yeah, sure,” she muttered.
Gil looked around and then back at her. “You look pale,” he observed.
“It’s nothing,” she ground out. “Now what is it you want me to do?”
He handed her several manuals. “If you need some bedtime reading, here are the rules and regulations of the department. If we have to make a run tonight I’m going to hold you back and let you play gopher. I’ll be working up a training schedule for you in the next week so that I can get acquainted with your weak and strong points.” He appraised her closely. “You’re pretty good at hiding things, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
Startled by the concern in his voice, Leah reacted more strongly than she had intended. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He leaned against the engine, one hand resting on the side of his head. “I saw Duke sneaking back to the kitchen, so I figured you had a run-in with him. He’s not known for mincing his words and he holds a real macho attitude toward women in general. You know the type—keep them barefoot and pregnant.”
Leah felt her body trembling with repressed anger and she found no humor in his statement. She remained silent beneath his scrutiny, feeling acutely uncomfortable.
“Look,” he began heavily, “if you’re having trouble with any of these guys, let me know.”
She nearly laughed. “And rat on them? That’s great, Lieutenant. I’m sure that will go over big. No, thanks. I learned down at the academy to take my lumps and keep my mouth shut.”
Gil frowned and stood upright. “That may have worked well down there, Stevenson, but it won’t here. This is a permanent job for you and you’ll probably be with this crew for at least a year. I want to stop any problems before they get started. And I don’t consider your coming to me as ratting. It’s my job to make sure my crew works as a smooth unit not only for your sake, but for the safety of the people we rescue as well.”
She moved restlessly away from him, wanting to believe him but afraid to. “I’ll work it out my own way,” she said, then turned and went upstairs to the bunk room.
* * *
It was nearly eleven when she closed the manual, unable to stop the words from blurring before her eyes. She sighed and sat up on the edge of her bunk. There were five beds: three on one side and two on the other. It was quiet and the silence only emphasized the loneliness Leah felt. She looked slowly around the small room, feeling terribly bereft. Going back downstairs she pulled her boots and bunker pants from beneath her coat and helmet and carried them up to the sleeping quarters. Dutifully arranging the black canvas bunker pants so that they would be accessible in case of an alarm, she shortened the red suspenders for her height. After taking a pair of cotton pajamas and her robe and toilet articles, she went into the shower room. Leah was sure that the rest of the men would wait until she was safely in bed before coming up.
By midnight she was snuggled into her bunk beneath a light sheet. She lay awake, staring into the darkness. Her first job…and no one except Lt. Gil Gerard cared if she was here or not. And he seemed to think of her as one more management problem he would have to deal with. She sighed softly, her heart aching over the idiocy of it all.
What was wrong with these thick-headed firemen? She was perfectly capable of doing the job and helping to save lives. And wasn’t that what it was all about? Saving lives and property? Who the hell cared if it was a man or a woman who di
d the saving? Did the child she’d rescued last month care that she was a woman? And what about the old man with a heart attack to whom she had administered CPR? Or the man she’d cut out of a mangled car whose bleeding she had staunched until paramedics could arrive? Leah took a deep, unsteady breath, finally closing her eyes. Why didn’t they see the motivation behind her actions? She didn’t want to invade a man’s world; she wanted only to be given the chance to work at something that gave her a sense of accomplishment.
Two
Leah was violently thrown awake by the fire alarm droning through the bunk room. The lights automatically came on, and she threw her legs across the bed and climbed into her bunker pants and boots. She gave no thought to how she looked in her cotton pajama top as she made a leap for the pole, slid neatly down it, and landed quickly on the first floor.
CAR ACCIDENT AT THE CORNER OF CARSON AND FORBES, a disembodied voice announced over the loudspeaker set in the bay.
She could hear the men calling to one another as she quickly shrugged into her black coat and threw the heavy visored helmet on her head. Duke Saxon whipped past her, running for his gear. She turned and was confronted by Gil. His eyes were narrowed and she could see him thinking out the situation. The squad truck was fired up and so was the Darley pumper called Lady. The officer looked directly at her.
“You ride shotgun with me in the squad. Duke, you and Apache get into air pak,” he ordered calmly.
She trotted to the squad and slid into the passenger side. Before getting in to drive, Gil started up the air compressor in the rear of the squad truck. Leah automatically reprimanded herself. She should have been doing that instead of him.
The bay was filled with the sound of roaring engines, the flash of whirling red-and-white lights as they drove out into the hot, humid night. Gil pointed to the radio.
“Say ‘Squad Fifty-One Signal Twelve,’” he ordered.
She nodded, picked up the mike, and repeated the message. Blinking, Leah put it back on the clip, her lips set in a thin line as the siren wailed through the empty streets of the sleeping town.
Too Near the Fire Page 2
