America's Bravest (14 page)

“I won’t spread it around.” She rose and came
to the table. “For what it’s worth, I agree with him about you and
Ryan.”

“You alluded to that before.”

“I also agree with him about Emma. You lost
your chance with the girl. Let her be happy. Find somebody
else.”

“I know that’s the right thing to do.”

“Then do it.” She socked his arm. “Come over
to the couch. I want to show you my next blog. One woman asked in a
comment if it was hard working with such cute guys.” She shook her
head; her expression turned disgusted. “I hope she didn’t find out
about Wellington and Gabe. Now
that
has set us back
light-years.”

“Give them a break, Licia. They’re happy. And
you can’t control who you love.”

“Sure you can.”

He grinned. “So what did you say to the
woman?”

“That we managed to behave ourselves. I
thought maybe you might want to write something about working with
such hot chicks.”

He laughed. “Sounds like fun. Let me see the
blog.”

oOo

Finally, Emma turned the lights off on the
front porch. She was exhausted from doling out candy apples and
pumpkin cookies she’d made for the neighborhood children.

And from not sleeping. She’d moped around
most of the day, cleaning the house, making her treats. Mark hadn’t
come over last night, or today. She knew he was giving her space
and she appreciated his thoughtfulness. She’d been trying to deal
with the fact that she’d sent Brody packing and that he was out of
her life. She chose Mark over him and knew it was the right
decision, but that didn’t make her sense of loss any less.

As she was heading upstairs to crash, the
doorbell rang again. She sighed. Maybe she wouldn’t answer it. She
went up two steps and the sound continued. Then pounding on the
heavy wood. What the hell? She retraced her steps, looked out the
side window and saw the caller was Mark, so she swung open the
door.

He stood before her in a tux, bow tie, top
hat and cane. His brown eyes were smiling. “Trick or treat.”

She burst out laughing. “What are you
doing?”

“Don’t worry, I borrowed the outfit from the
drama club costumes.”

Coming inside, closing the door, he took her
in his arms and kissed her. It felt good. Right. “Hi.”

She nestled into his chest. “Hi.”

When he pulled back, he set her away and
withdrew something from his pocket.

Oh, my God, it was a ring box. Slowly he
dropped to one knee and opened the lid to reveal a gorgeous diamond
ring. “Emma Walsh,” he asked, his throat thick with emotion. “Will
you marry me?”

oOo

The call came in at three o’clock in the
morning. “Quint and Midi 7, Rescue 7 and Truck 8. Fire at 33 Jay
Street. Multiple injuries. Gunshots fired. Police on the
scene.”

“Fuck,” Felicia mumbled as they bounded out
of bed.

Quickly the group donned uniform pants over
the boxers and T-shirts both sexes slept in and hurried downstairs.
Being awakened out of a sound sleep meant grogginess; there was no
discussion and they stepped carefully. But by the time they met in
the bay and geared up, they were wide awake. Felicia ducked into
the office and came out with the computer report; they climbed into
the rigs and sped off.

Rain slicked the streets and beat a steady
pattern on the windshield of the Midi. Over the radio, he and Grady
heard, “Fire started in the cellar. Gang was freebasing.”

Gangs were rare in Hidden Cove but had
started to come up from New York City.

“Police on the scene. Shots fired. GSWs.”
Gunshot wounds.

Brody’s heart picked up speed. Then he
remembered Ryan wasn’t on duty tonight. His brother had a date with
model in the Big Apple and had made a crack before Brody left for
work about getting adult treats tonight. Brody’s worst worry, more
than for his own safety, was his twin getting hurt.

When they reached the site, it was orderly
and well directed, but there was a buzz in the air. Not a good one.
And the rain seemed to increase the tension. Brody felt a shiver
creep up his spine. The battalion chief in charge, also a sub
tonight, was stiff and appeared anxious. Brody didn’t know him. The
guy barked orders and sent Brody to the rear of the building where
other medics were working on the injured. Grabbing his own ALS bag,
Brody put on his helmet and jogged to the side of house. As he
rounded the corner, a shocking pain seized his back. Just for a
second, then it was gone. Oh, my God!

He raced to the men and saw three
firefighters hunched over two bodies. The downed men were uniformed
cops. Closer still, and his heart beat ratcheted up.

Because he saw his own new boots, which his
brother had borrowed a week ago and never returned, on the feet of
one of the victims.

Ryan had been shot.

On Sunday morning, Emma could barely drag
herself out of bed. Her eyes were puffy and she was achy from the
tension her body had held for the last twelve hours. She’d cried
herself to sleep, woke up and cried some more. When she did doze
off, it was only to dream about Mark’s wonderful face when she told
him she couldn’t marry him. His proposal had been a turning point
for her—seeing the ring, seeing the hope and trust in his face. She
couldn’t dissemble any longer. She wasn’t in love with him. And she
knew, if she accepted the proposal, it would only hurt him more
than telling him the truth. He’d been kind, warned her about Brody
and left with the graciousness that was as natural to him as
breathing.

Slipping into a fleece bathrobe and slipper
socks, she trudged downstairs, made coffee and stood staring out at
the autumn morning. The end of October leaves on the trees were
beautiful hues of gold and red. Whoops, no. It was November first.
Oh! Her birthday, which she’d forgotten in all the emotional drama
of last evening. Dear Lord, how was she ever going to deal with her
parents’ call from Florida and her sister’s Skype from Paris? Well,
at least she didn’t have to face them in person, when they’d know
right away how devastated she was. At least through machines, she’d
have a chance of keeping the worst of it from them.

Sick of her thoughts and recriminations, she
considered a shower, even went upstairs to have one, but instead,
she got back in bed again and turned on the TV with the remote.

“Breaking news from downtown Hidden Cove. At
approximately three a.m., police and firefighters were called to
the scene of an explosion in a house on Ambrose Street. Allegedly,
a group of men were in the home cooking drugs—it’s called
free-basing—and tried to escape the structure when the fire began.
By the time they found their way out of the burning building,
police and firefighters were on the scene. A shoot-out ensued and
the two perpetrators fled. Two firefighters were injured, along
with two of Hidden Cove’s Finest.”

Emma closed her eyes.
Please, please,
don’t let Brody have gotten hurt.

“Firefighters injured were Jim McNally from
Engine 4 and Juan Gomez from Truck 2.”

Thank you, God.

Injured police are Officers Carla Lopez, Rick
Shank, Denzel Johnson, who were released after treatment. One cop
is in critical condition. Sergeant Ryan O’Malley was shot twice,
and we’re awaiting news of his recovery.”

Emma froze. Brody’s brother had been hurt?
She thought about the robust guy who loved women—lots of them—and
didn’t apologize for it. He’d always been there for Brody, even
when they disagreed. She remembered the stories of how the two of
them physically suffered when the other was hurt. Once, Ryan had
known Brody had fallen skiing because his own leg had begun to
ache.

What must Brody be going through now?

oOo

He couldn’t even think about Ryan dying. And
he certainly couldn’t talk about it, so he stood off to other side
of the private waiting room of Hidden Cove Hospital and stared out
the window seeing only mages of him and his brother—sharing a womb,
a crib, a bunk bed, a college dorm room and now a duplex, learning
about girls together, playing ball on the same teams, breaking
rules their parents had set down. Though they had differing views
on a lot things, they were rarely distanced. Could he survive if
lost the other half of him?

“Hey, buddy, how you doin’?” A hand on his
shoulder.

Turning, he saw his tall, gray-haired father,
Jimmy O’Malley, behind him. His dad’s eyes were bleak and his
usually animated face taut.

“I’m hanging in there, Pa.”

“Don’t kid a kidder. I can see how you’re
hurting.”

Brody’s throat clogged and he couldn’t
answer. Jimmy knew his sons well and drew Brody into a bear hug.
Over the man’s shoulder, he saw his brothers, Sean, Timmy, Danny
and Joe spread out in the waiting room. Right now Timmy was holding
his mother’s hand and showing her pictures of her grandchildren.
Timmy’s wife had brought albums to the hospital this morning to
distract his mom.

Brody drew back and caught sight of his
lieutenant, Felicia White, sitting on a couch using her netbook.
She’d come to the hospital at the end of her shift. “I think I’ll
go talk to Licia, Dad.”

Crossing to the room, he dropped down next to
her.

She squeezed his arm. “How you holding up,
buddy?”

He shrugged. “You don’t have to wait, Licia.
It’s gonna be a while.”

“We’re not leaving you at a time like
this.”

“We? Oh, I get it. The group’s gonna take
shifts and sit with me.”

“Uh-huh. Whether you like it or not. So don’t
even bother protesting.”

He nodded to the computer. “What are you
doing?”

“What else? Want to hear something that takes
nerve? Parker Allen commented on our blog.”

Anger was easier than gut-sick pain. “What
the fuck is wrong with that woman?”

“I don’t know. I think we should—”

Before she could finish, Brody bolted up. The
surgeon who’d spoken to them four hours ago had walked into the
room. A big sturdy woman with a no-nonsense attitude, she strode
toward his parents. The O’Malley clan gathered around her. Without
preamble, she said, “Ryan made it through surgery. It was touch and
go for a while because one bullet lodged near his spine. We managed
to get it out and we don’t think we did any more damage. The other
bullet went right through his shoulder, so that didn’t give us much
trouble.”

“How’s he doing?” Brody asked.

“He’s going to live. I don’t know about
everything else. He hasn’t awakened. We have to wait until he does
to determine the extent of his injuries.”

His mom gripped his father’s arm. Fatigue
etched itself on every one of her features, making her look older
than usual. “What does all that mean, Brody?”

“It means she doesn’t know if Ryan will be
able to walk again.”

Everyone gasped.

“I’m not gonna sugarcoat this,” the doctor
put in. “But we shouldn’t be pessimistic, either. It’s great news
that the surgery went well and we got the bullet out.”

Brody was trying to be strong for his family,
but he knew the implications of what the doctor had and hadn’t
said.

His mother turned her face into her father’s
chest, and his dad looked at him bleakly. “How soon will we
know?”

“Can’t tell, Dad.” At his father’s bereft
expression, Brody felt his own throat clog. “We have to do what
we’ve been doing. Wait and pray.”

After the doctor left, Brody stayed tough,
answering his brothers’ questions, comforting his parents. But when
they dispersed, he felt like he was going to combust, and he
couldn’t let them see him fall apart. He had to get out of the
room. “Going to the john,” he said to his brother and strode out
hurriedly.

Down the corridor a ways, he leaned against
the wall, closed his eyes and tried to breathe easier. But, dear
God, what would he do if Ryan couldn’t walk?

“Brody?”

Opening his eyes, he saw a vision and was
sure it wasn’t real. Then she came closer and touched his arm. “I
just heard. I’m so sorry.”

“Emma, w-what are you doing here?”

“I came to be with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I could always make the bad times
easier for you, and I want to do that now.”

Emotion gushed out of him. Her words, her
being here, released feelings he’d kept dammed up since he saw Ryan
lying on the ground. As they flooded him, he threw himself into
Emma’s arms.

oOo

“Oh, my. Well, look, here’s Emma.” Brody’s
mother came up to Emma and encompassed her in a bear hug.
The
daughter I didn’t have
, Mary O’Malley always called her. Emma
let herself inhale the familiar powder Mary always wore and basked
in the woman’s affection.

“So nice to see you again, Mary. I’m sorry
it’s under these circumstances.”

When they parted, Brody’s mother clasped more
tightly the rosary beads she held in one hand. “My Ryan will be
fine. We trust God.”

“That’s good.” Though Emma believed God
worked through man and didn’t perform any miracles, she knew
another kind of faith brought comfort to this family.

She was equally welcomed by Brody’s dad with
another big hug. His brothers and their wives were particularly
effusive. At one time, all of them expected her to be part of this
large, boisterous and loving family with little kids of hers and
Brody’s running around with theirs. A pang of disappointment and
grief for what had never been made her tense.

“You’ve changed some since we last saw you,”
Jimmy told her, his hand still on her shoulder. “When was
that?”

Brody spoke up. He hadn’t let go of her hand
since he’d taken it in the hall after she’d found him there. He’d
cried like a baby and she’d held him for a long time. “High
school.”

“Um, no. Since you all moved from Camden to
Hidden Cove, Jimmy.”