Fireproof (20 page)

The camera panned to ruins of brick and wood, where emergency personnel continued to battle the blaze.

“The fire,” Ms. Ward said, “is believed to have started in a toaster and a faulty electrical outlet, and it spread quickly through the house. The Turners escaped, not knowing that their seven-year-old daughter, Lacey, was still inside.”

The scene shifted to an interview with the emotionally wrung-out mother. “Lacey was at a friend's house,” said Mrs. Turner, “but came home early through the back door, and we didn't even know it. We . . .” She bit back tears. “We almost lost her today.”

“The Albany Fire Department arrived within minutes,” the report continued, showing an oxygen tank on the ground, a splintered ax, and toys blackened by the fire. “They made a daring rescue of young Lacey, who had already passed out from smoke inhalation. Captain Caleb Holt used an ax to cut through the floor, where they made a daring escape beneath the structure.”

An eyewitness, holding her pet dog, described the scene in shaky tones: “I saw him run into the house, and then watched the roof collapse. I just
knew
they were dead.”

“We live across the street,” said another, identified as Benny Murphy. “And you could feel the flames. That heat, it was real intense. We're just so excited the little girl got out okay. I mean, that fire was
unreal
.”

A school photo of Lacey Turner dominated the television, tugging at viewers' heartstrings with her darling image.

“Lacey,” the reporter said, “is now resting at a family member's home and is expected to make a full recovery. The family has extended their deepest thanks to the Albany Fire Department.”

“You know, we practice for these things all the time, but every fire is different.” The face of Chief Carl Hatcher replaced Lacey's, his name and job description shown below in a horizontal color bar. “I'm just glad everyone got out alive.”

The segment drew to a close with the female reporter's voice lilting in professional empathy. “Chief Hatcher plans to visit Lacey soon, and to meet with the team that made the rescue. He says if his firefighters are given a choice between saving a home or saving a life . . . they'll choose a life every time. For WALB News, I'm Stephanie Ward.”

PART FOUR

FIRE

JUNE 2008

CHAPTER 28

M
om, it'll be fine.”

“Honey, I just worry about you. I saw the pictures on the news, and—”

“It's gonna heal up in a coupla weeks, okay? Just think of it as a bad sunburn.”Caleb had his cell phone to his ear, seated in jeans and a sweatshirt on the couch. His left sleeve was pulled up so he could air the tender skin on his forearm. Beside him,
The Love
Dare
notebook remained unopened.

“Are you sleeping all right? Do you have any pain pills or—”

“Yes. I've got medicine for it.”

“Don't let it come in contact with—”

“Yes, I know, I know. Listen, I've got it wrapped up right now.” Caleb knew he would scream if he didn't bail on this conversation quickly. Why did he let her get under his skin like this? Why did he feel like a little boy again, being babied when all he really wanted was to be treated like a man?

“Caleb, I—”

“Could I speak with Dad, please?”

“Don't be upset, honey. I'm just—”

“Okay,Mom. I got it. Now, would you please hand the phone to Dad?”

“Here he is.”

“
Thank
you.” He sighed in frustration.

John came on the line. “Hello, son.”

“Dad, would you please ask Mom to cut me some slack? I'm a fireman. I'm gonna be around fires.”

“You know, she'll always be your mother. You can't change that any more than she can.”

“I know.”

“It's just her way of showing love.”

“I know, Dad. I just don't like getting grilled every time she picks up the phone.”

“I understand. So, are you using your paid leave to recuperate?”

“I've got two days off, then I'll be back.”

“Well,” John said, “I'm sure you'll use the time wisely. I guess you'll have the opportunity to give more attention to
The Love Dare
.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“What day are you on?”

“Today?” Caleb had to think. “Uh, Day Twenty-three. But it was hard this morning. You know, the newspaper called me twice wanting an interview. It seems I'm a hero with everybody in the world except my wife.”

“You're not quitting, are you?”

“No. No, I'm not giving up.”

“Good. Our prayers are with you on this.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“In fact, your mother and I were just heading over to our weekly Bible study. I'd best not keep your mother waiting.”

“All right. I'll talk to you later.”

“You call anytime, son. Good-bye.”

“Bye.”

Caleb closed the phone, pulled his hands back through his hair, then felt his eyes drawn to the computer desk in the corner. He knew the temptations it presented, and he decided to work on a crossword puzzle instead.

That occupied him until he came to the clue for
5 Down.

He knew the answer without even thinking—the name of a curvaceous celebrity—and it stirred thoughts that would only lead to trouble.

No, Caleb. Not today.

To be an honorable man was his goal—honoring God, and his wife.

He tapped the cover of
The Love Dare
, knowing he had work to do, but first he would grab a drink from the kitchen. He'd come back to this in a bit.

A few minutes later, with a glass of ice water at his side, he tackled a stack of bills while propped on the edge of the couch. There was the electric, the water, cable and Internet, vehicles and insurance, the mortgage. Although he and Catherine had received an economic stimulus check from the IRS a few weeks back, that money had gone right back into their account to cover his mother-in-law's most recent therapy.

So much for a boat anytime soon. Every dime went to other things, it seemed. Despite Caleb's earnest savings attempts in the last four or five years, he figured he had another two or three before getting the cabin cruiser he wanted.

He tucked the last check and bill into an envelope, sealed it, and stood.

Now what?

Time to go dream a little. Nothing wrong with that.

At the computer, he logged on to the Internet and went to a few of the boat Web sites he'd been checking out. He'd been considering twenty-four-footers, loaded with 375 horsepower. Aside from the basic necessities, there were so many other options—onboard surround sound; transom showers; sonar and GPS systems; ladders and slides; and wakeboard towers.

Each site featured photos of vessels gliding through the waters of the Gulf, or sports fishermen pulling marlins out of the Atlantic. Each one represented a vision of something he didn't have.

They looked so good. So close he could touch them. Glimmering hulls and polished rails. Sails unfurled and gusting in the breeze.

Ahh, to live out that fantasy.

Of course, the reality of the seas included sudden squalls, stinging salt water in your eyes, and shoals to avoid. While on a friend's boat down in Tampa, he'd almost gotten sick from diesel fumes as they chugged back into the harbor. And that didn't even count the joys of emptying a gray-water tank.

No doubt about it: the entire experience looked so much more glamorous in pictures, casual and carefree.

Speaking of which . . .

A video-cam box popped up on the screen, featuring a woman's sultry smile and two small words full of boundless possibility:
“Wanna See?”

His pulse picked up.

Yes, of course he wanted to see. What man wouldn't? Hadn't God created the male species to be visually oriented?

For some reason, though, that excuse failed to work, even in his distracted mind. Such justification would be like Catherine saying that she simply had to eat chocolate whenever she saw it, because it triggered helpful female hormones. Wasn't the truth that each person had to show some self-control? It was a key to society's survival. What gave him the right to point fingers at the gluttonous, when he lacked control of his own desires?

The male side of his brain understood this logic, but none of it—not one little bit—changed what he was feeling at the moment.

“Wanna See?”

He stiffened in his chair. His hand rested on the mouse, nudging the cursor toward the Click Here button.

No.

An honorable man.

He froze, then let go of the mouse. His eyes stayed glued to the video-cam box. He told himself he was only looking at the sleek boats behind the box, but those, too, represented glossed-over realities.

The woman's face was still staring at him.

His hand returned to the mouse and his finger lifted over the button, ready to tap down, to obey the blinking command. No one was watching.

Click Here, Click Here, Click Here . . .

So easy.

Groaning in frustration, he shook his head and lifted his gaze. There on the wall, the dark wood panel hung as a reminder of his grandfather's care and devotion. At this very moment, his father and mother were shouldering his burdens at a Bible study.

“Caleb, what're you doing?” he whispered.

He stood and turned his back on the desk. From across the room, he swiveled to see those sultry lips still teasing, teasing.

“Wanna See?”

He sighed, leaned his arms on the fireplace mantel, and fought with his desire. This desire, this sinful nature—it had been crucified on the cross; taken upon Jesus' flayed back.

I'm dead to sin,
he reminded himself.
And alive in Christ.

He turned his eyes and peered at the still-lingering image. He dropped his head, let out a loud sigh, then looked at the family Bible propped here on the mantel where it had gathered dust since its arrival as a wedding gift.

His father had warned him that he would have to die to his fleshly desires each day, but that sounded almost unreal—until faced with the reality.

Click Here, Click Here . . .

“God,” Caleb grumbled, “why is this so hard?”

The sound of his palm striking the mantel echoed in the empty living room. Caleb cast a hard glare at the computer and dropped onto the love seat, arms crossed. He stretched his legs, trying to relax. He decided now was as good a time as any to get this day back on track.

He picked up the notebook from the coffee table and began reading.

Day 23

Watch out for parasites! A parasite is anything that latches
on to you or your partner and sucks the life out of your marriage.
They're usually in the form of addictions, like gambling,
drugs, or pornography.

They promise pleasure, but grow like a disease and consume more and more of your thoughts, time, and money. They steal away your loyalty and heart from those you love.

Marriages rarely survive if parasites are present. If you love your wife, you must destroy any addiction that has your heart. If you don't, it will destroy you.

“If the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36).

Caleb eyed the computer across the room.

For twenty-three days now, he had dared to love Catherine—or tried to, anyway. He wanted to love her freely, no holds barred. But these images, these addictions . . .

They were parasites out to destroy him.

Resolve burned in his eyes. His pulse raced, but with new conviction. He stood, with shoulders pulled back, and stomped across the room to the computer that had been an unguarded gateway into his home, into his very heart and soul.

“No more!”

He ripped the cables from the back of the monitor and tore the power cords from the wall. This was insane, what he was doing. He knew it was over-the-top. And he just didn't care, didn't care one bit. He was
done
with this. If it meant protecting his marriage and his soul, he wasn't going to let an inanimate object stand in the way. He would fight for this.

Monitor and keyboard, first.

He marched the items through the side door, out of the garage to the driveway. He set them in the sunlight on the patio table. He picked up his aluminum bat.

Oh,
yeah
.

Oh, you better
believe
he was going through with this.

With determination feeding adrenaline through his muscles, he took up his stance and furrowed his brow. “Okay, Lord . . .” The long bat lifted in his hands. “No more addictions.”

He swung.

The monitor shattered with a gratifying burst of plastic and glass. It flew from the table and thudded upside down on the grass. Demolished and useless, it would never again feed him those tawdry images.

The computer tower was next.

Forget about the money. Why, an ugly divorce settlement would cost him a lot more than this. His marriage was worth it.

He set his jaw and prepared for swing number two.

Then he saw them . . .

The Rudolphs, as a couple, were fixed like statues on their back patio. Dressed in plaid shorts, cowboy boots with no socks, sunglasses, and a straw hat, Mr. Rudolph dangled a watering hose from his hand. Mrs. Rudolph stood by with a watering can and a garden trowel.

They were both staring in his direction.

He lowered the bat. “Mr. Rudolph.”

“Caleb.”

“You doin' okay today?”

The elderly neighbor showed no emotion.“No,” he said.“Not really.”He released the hose nozzle and turned away from the disturbing property damage taking place only yards away.

Caleb winced. Could he blame the man?

Well, no use explaining. Some things just had to be done, regardless of who was watching and what they might think.

Caleb swung again, rocketing the computer tower from the table.