“Who’s spreading the rumor?” Jack asked. “Let me guess—Troy Garrett.” From the look on the chief’s face, Jack knew he was right, and he fumed. That bastard. This stunt was payback for getting in his face at the bar the other night. “Let me get this straight. Troy Garrett, who’s a temporary firefighter on another crew, who wasn’t even at the scene, has a problem with how I handled it?”
“For whatever reason, he looked up the incident report and has an issue with it.”
Jack clenched his jaw. The whole thing was ridiculous, but because he was dealing with the fire chief, he needed to stay calm and play the game. “I’m not sure why Firefighter Garrett felt the need to go to you with this, instead of to his captain or even to me, but I’d be happy to address any concerns you have.”
“Great,” said Moran. “Why don’t you walk me through what happened?”
“It’s all in the report.”
“Just walk me through it, please.”
Jack took a deep breath and recalled the events of that night, remembering most of all how alone Elizabeth looked standing in the middle of the highway, in the middle of a snowstorm, in the middle of the night.
“Single-car MVA on Highway Thirty, just past mile marker forty-six. Not much to it,” he said. “The vehicle went into the ditch and snowbank. The female patient—Ms. Armstrong—had no injuries, was alert and oriented and answered questions appropriately, and she refused further medical treatment. She arranged for a ride back to town and for her vehicle to be towed.”
Moran eyed him. “What else?”
Jack pondered how much to say. One or more of the men on the call must have come back to the station and shared what had happened. They wouldn’t have done it maliciously—Jack hadn’t told anyone of the Armstrong family’s importance in his life, and they often shared details of their calls with Ladder One and vice versa. Jack, who prided himself on being a straight shooter, suspected Chief Moran already knew what had happened and was testing Jack to see how much he’d tell him. Even if that weren’t the case, Jack would be forthcoming … about most things. He didn’t think he’d done anything technically wrong that night. If he had—well, he’d accept the consequences.
“As I believe the report states, it appeared to those of us at the scene that the female patient wasn’t the driver of the vehicle. We suspected this because there was blood in the driver’s side area, and also in the snow leading away from the vehicle. Following a thorough examination, we found Ms. Armstrong had no wounds. Nothing to explain the blood.”
“What did the woman say?”
“She wasn’t forthcoming with any details.”
“And that didn’t concern you?”
“It did concern me, but the woman’s lawyer showed up and advised her not to speak with the first responders, as is her right,” Jack said. “Theresa Harmon’s the attorney involved. Do you know her?”
Moran nodded. “We serve on the board of the Boys & Girls Club together. Nice lady.”
“In any case, she showed up and went all balls-to-the-walls with me about what I was and wasn’t legally able to do,” Jack said. “Since the female patient refused medical treatment and didn’t require further assistance from my crew, there wasn’t much else I could do. For our part, it was a single-car accident on a slippery road during a blizzard, which as we all know is a very common occurrence. Whether Ms. Armstrong was the driver or whether she’d been drinking was a matter for the police.”
“What about your report to the police department? That you were quite insistent that she wasn’t the driver?”
“I just told them my professional opinion based on the presentation of the scene. The lawyer did the rest of the talking to the police on behalf of her client.” He shrugged. “In my capacity as a firefighter and paramedic, I had no reason involve myself further.”
“Even with the driver fleeing the scene?”
“He—or she—didn’t necessarily flee,” Jack said. “They were gone when we got there and didn’t know we were coming. Perhaps they simply went to get help. That’s what the lawyer suggested, and it’s a valid argument, theoretically.”
“Innocent people don’t call their lawyers for a simple situation of a car skidding off the road.”
“Maybe they do when their last name’s Armstrong,” Jack said.
“I wondered,” Moran said. “It’s that Armstrong family?”
“Yes, sir.”
Moran looked at him closely. “I’d think you’d want to throw the book at a member of the Armstrong family. You were part of the police force when that all went down, weren’t you?”
Jack felt his heart pounding, an internal thunder of old anger mixed with new, more confusing emotions. “I don’t think the sins of the father should be visited upon the children. Whatever Nate Armstrong may or may not have done all those years ago, the daughter was a child at the time and blameless.”
No longer a child, he thought. Instead, a beautiful woman.
And still blameless.
He leaned forward earnestly, eager to put the matter behind him. “Bottom line, it was a judgment call. Ms. Armstrong hadn’t called for help, wasn’t injured, and refused medical treatment. With all due respect, sir, I think what you’re really asking is did I give special favors to her for personal reasons, and I can assure you I’d never met her before that night.”
“Okay,” Moran said. “I’m glad we clarified that.”
“I think I know what this stems from,” Jack said, determined to not make things easy for Troy Garrett. “The other night, I got into a minor off-duty altercation with Firefighter Garrett. He made vulgar comments about Ms. Armstrong, who happens to be a bartender at the Sled Dog, where we were that night. I spoke up in her defense because it was the right thing to do, but Troy must have invented some ulterior motive. The simple fact is that I felt his crude comments in public reflected badly on the fire department, and I called him on it. The way I see it, that guy’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”
Jack knew that for a city administrative official, throwing in the word lawsuit was the best way to cast Troy Garrett in a deserved negative light.
“What did he say about her?” Moran asked. “Or do I even want to know?”
Jack recalled Troy’s words. Trashy. Gives good head. His voice was tight when he responded. “You probably don’t want to know.”
“Okay.” Moran nodded that he accepted Jack’s explanation. “Next time Garrett causes a problem like this, don’t hesitate to go through me and the HR channels. You want to get your version of the truth on record.”
“Yes, sir.” Jack stood, despising the politics of it all. He would rather have just punched Troy Garrett in the face. “Will do.”
Chief Moran stood, too, and extended a hand to Jack. “You’ve got a very promising future here—I think you know that. I wouldn’t want to see anything happen that could jeopardize it.”
“Understood. I appreciate your interest.”
As Jack opened the door, he knew one thing was clear: he’d been right to pull back from Elizabeth the other night, for professional reasons alone.
He told himself it was for the best, but his heart didn’t believe him.
14
Elizabeth didn’t expect to see or hear from Jack in the days after their encounter in the brewery’s stockroom, although she wished he’d make an appearance. Every time a customer opened the door to the Sled Dog while she was working, her heart pitter-pattered with the hope it might be him, but it never was.
To keep from dwelling on what she might have done differently with Jack—was there anything? Should she have been more forward, or less, or did it not matter at all because of her family name?—she threw herself into clearing out and repairing the house. With Nate getting released so soon, there was a lot to do and not much time to do it.
So far, Elizabeth and Emmett had sold some old furniture from the house and items stored in the garage—bikes and hockey equipment from childhood, winter outerwear that n
o longer fit, camping equipment they no longer used, and every single thing their mom had left behind and never come back to claim.
What they couldn’t sell, they donated, and what they couldn’t donate, they tossed into a rented Dumpster. In a few days, the small house had largely been emptied out.
It was just the right distraction. Elizabeth threw things away with a vengeance, resolved to get rid of anything in her life that could be considered baggage, whether they were physical items or ways of thinking that weren’t useful anymore. Jack’s rejection shouldn’t matter; he was just another man who’d disappointed her, and she couldn’t let it get her down or stand in the way of her goals.
What had she been thinking, pursuing a man so far out of her league?
A few times, like when she was scrubbing the stained tile grout in the bathroom and when she was patching the threadbare carpet in the short hallway, she thought of Jack’s well-crafted home, the gleaming stone countertops, the soaring windows, and she had to fight back tears. You’re as shabby as your house, said that old one-two-punch voice in her head. You’ll never have anything as lovely as that house, and you’ll never have anyone as good as Jack.
But in between all the housework, she finalized her enrollment in two pre-nursing classes at the local community college, one a basic math class and the other a human anatomy class. Both started the following week and were held mid-morning, which was good because she wouldn’t have to give up the profitable night shifts at the brewery. Elizabeth was terrified and excited at the same time—it had been eight years since she’d stepped through the doors of a school, and what if she failed? But she was on her way to becoming a nurse! Besides, it would be another great distraction from Jack.
One cold, clear, blustery morning, Elizabeth woke up to the smell of coffee brewing and smiled. Emmett was making great strides. He’d picked up several extra shifts at work, so not only had he been able to pay his half of the mortgage, but he was able to contribute to the repair fund. Plus, that day Emmett had enlisted a couple of friends who’d worked construction to come over and help fix their leaky roof. A massive snowstorm was predicted for the following day, and if the repair didn’t happen, the roof and ceiling would get even more damaged.
While Emmett and his friends worked carefully on the snow-laden roof, Elizabeth worked on pulling down the water-damaged ceiling in the living room and replacing the drywall. She’d watched a half-dozen internet videos and had the materials she needed, including a t-brace to hold the drywall in place above her. Emmett had already measured and cut the pieces to fit.
It was a messy job, and it took several hours for Elizabeth to pull the rotten parts and pile them into the corner of the near-empty living room. She’d just gotten her first full piece of drywall fastened to the rafter and was perched on a ladder, holding a heavy electric drill over her head, when she heard Rugby’s excited, someone’s-here bark from her bedroom, where she’d confined him while she was working to keep him from being underfoot.
“Good, I need a break,” she muttered to herself, pulling off her face mask and safety glasses and wiping her dusty face with her sleeve. The hammering from Emmett and his friends on the roof had ceased, and she heard them chatting outside.
Then she heard the honk of a familiar horn, and she gave a little whoop. “My Bronco!”
Throwing on her parka, she burst out the front door to find her stalwart old white Bronco in the driveway, its healthy-sounding engine idling. Bruce Barnes was behind the wheel. He waved, shut off the vehicle, and got out.
“It’s a chilly day to be working outdoors,” he called up to Emmett. “What is it, two degrees?”
“Gotta get it done,” Emmett called back.
“We don’t have any choice,” Elizabeth added. “We’ve got a leak, and that big snowstorm’s coming tomorrow.”
“Can you take a break?” Bruce held up a white bakery bag. “I brought breakfast sandwiches from the North Star Café.”
“Hell, yeah, we can take a break,” Emmett said.
Bruce went to the base of the ladder to hold it steady as the men climbed down. Emmett’s friends said they’d leave them to it and be back after lunch, and they left in the pickup truck they’d parked on the street.
Elizabeth ran her hand across the Bronco’s still-warm hood. “Thank you so much,” she said to Bruce. “I’m so excited to have the old girl back!”
“She’s running like a charm,” Bruce said. “The part came in yesterday, and I was able to get it fixed no problem.”
“I can take you back home,” Emmett said. “And what do we owe you for the repair?”
Elizabeth loved to hear Emmett sounding like her big brother again. Clear-eyed and fresh-shaven, he looked and sounded better than he had in months, and he was back to doing right by other people.
“You don’t owe me a thing,” Bruce said. “I took it to an old friend of mine, who happens to be the head mechanic for the Golden Falls Police Department.”
“Remember, you promised,” Elizabeth said. “You promised you’d let me pay for it.”
“The guy owed me a favor,” Bruce said.
“We’ll pay you for the part, at least—and don’t say no, or I’m just going to send a bunch of cash to you in the mail.”
“Fine. It was twenty bucks,” Bruce said.
She gave him a doubting look. “Really?”
Bruce winked at her. “Okay, forty.”
She gave him another doubting look. “Seriously, Mr. Barnes, how much was it?”
“It was forty dollars, Elizabeth.”
Elizabeth still didn’t quite believe him, but she accepted that it was the most he’d let her pay and decided she’d make up the difference with some baked goods as a thank-you. “Come on inside. I’ll get my wallet.”
“Yeah, let’s warm up,” Emmett said, sniffling from the cold. “I can’t even feel my toes.”
Once inside, Elizabeth took Bruce’s coat and let an eager Rugby out of her bedroom. He charged into the living room and onto the sheet-protected sofa pushed against the far wall.
“What do we have here?” Bruce laughed to see the chubby little Welsh corgi dressed in a panda dog coat. “Who’s this cute guy?”
“This is Rugby.” Elizabeth went over and sat beside her dog on the couch, pulling him to her side. “Today he thinks he’s a panda bear.”
“My sister likes to make him look like a fool,” Emmett said. “Sometimes she dresses him in baby bonnets, other times like a pirate.”
“Hey, I never got to play with dolls much as a kid,” she said. “This is how I have my fun.”
“Well, I think he’s adorable.” Bruce came close and put out his hand. “Shake, Rugby?”
Rugby was too excited to obey, instead leaping up and down.
“Rugby,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Settle down. Sit and shake the man’s hand.”
Rugby obeyed. She could tell by the sparkle in Bruce’s eyes that he was a genuine dog lover and not just being polite.
“Want to see more?” Elizabeth said. “He knows lots of tricks.”
Emmett shook his head good-naturedly. “I’ll make coffee.”
While Emmett was in the kitchen, Elizabeth showed Bruce all of Rugby’s tricks, which included rolling over (and over, and over. He could go all the way across a room), sliding backwards, turning in a circle, and, for the big finale, jumping through Elizabeth’s arms when she made a hoop shape with them.
“Coffee’s ready,” Emmett said, coming back into the room.
The three of them went into the kitchen and sat around the small table. The North Star’s breakfast sandwiches were huge, made panini-style on slabs of fresh bread, filled with fluffy eggs and melty cheese and thick-cut local bacon. Elizabeth could only eat half of hers.
As they ate, Bruce looked around at the mostly-empty kitchen. “Are you moving?”
“No, our dad’s coming home soon,” Elizabeth said. “We wanted to, you know—”
“Not give away how much
we’ve been floundering in his absence,” Emmett finished with a laugh.
“Emmett, that’s not true!” Elizabeth said, embarrassed. “We’ve been fine for the most part. Sure, we’ve had hiccups here and there, and no, we haven’t had the money or the experience to keep up with the house very well, but we’re not floundering. We’re both working and—”
She stopped because that was pretty much all there was to say in their favor. Neither was married or in a long-term relationship. Neither had education beyond high school. They didn’t have much savings. No health insurance. But still. Neither had become teenage parents or been arrested or gone down a bad path with alcohol or drugs—with the recent exception of Emmett, which Elizabeth felt no need to mention.
She stood and went to the counter to wrap the other half of her sandwich for later. Being around Bruce Barnes, who’d been so kind to her for so many years and looked so much like Jack—tall, with the same crinkles around his warm brown eyes—was all kinds of disconcerting. She felt a near-overwhelming urge to ask Bruce about Jack, what he’d been like as a kid, what his dreams were. But she remembered, too, that Jack and Bruce were estranged, and she didn’t want to bring up a painful subject, nor did she want Bruce to think of her as some stalker chick with her sights on his son.
The weird thing was that her sense of destiny regarding Jack hadn’t wavered. In fact, being around Bruce made it even stronger, because she felt a kind of filial affection for Bruce that didn’t make sense and was much more than gratitude that he’d fixed her Bronco.
Jack and I are going to be together, she thought. Someway, somehow, and maybe Jack just doesn’t know it yet.
But since she did know it, she wanted to make a good impression on Bruce.
“I’m starting school next week for nursing,” she told him when she sat back down, bringing the coffee pot with her. “Just the community college, but you’ve got to start somewhere, right?”
“That’s fantastic!” Bruce said. “My wife was a nurse. She started at the community college, too.”
From The Ashes (Golden Falls Fire Book 3) Page 10
