Twilight (18 page)
Cal stretched, loosened his shoulders and back. Fifteen hours and he’d be home free—if nothing worse happened. The phone jarred him from his thoughts. His heart started to race, worse than before, worse than normal adrenaline alertness. Too many possibilities. Too many chances to screw up. He started to sweat and forced down the panic.
He lifted the receiver, braced for emergency. Laur ie’s voice brought a rush of relief, and he realized dispatch had not toned this call out. The claxton device had not sounded. He was getting careless. Details like that used to be automatic.
“Mildred told me you were there.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, giving him nothing to go on. No fear, no contrition, only the sweet sound of her voice.
“I’m here till eight tomorrow morning. All by my lonesome.” What was he trying to prove?
“Can I come by?”
His rush accelerated, the feelings he’d held at bay threatening again. “Sure.” An unexpected overture. Especially after their tangling last night. He hung up and prayed the phone would stay silent. “Over the river and through the woods, to the firehouse she comes …” He strode to the mirror by the lockers and ran a comb through his hair. “She knows the way to make my day …” The phone rang, and he kicked the wall.
“Fire station.”
“Cal? I forgot to ask if you’d eaten.”
He let out his breath. Did one pumpkin pie count? “Not to speak of.”
“Good. Be there in a minute.”
He pressed the receiver home and held it there. If Mr. Dispatch ruined this …
Cal opened the door and stood outside to wait. The emergency tone would sound out there as loudly as within if he were needed. Laurie pulled up and climbed out of the car even as he reached for her door. She held a foil-covered plate balanced on a paper-wrapped package and looked as though her day hadn’t been much better than his. “Mother’s efforts. She let me cut and chop but didn’t risk more than that.” She followed him inside and set the plate, more like a platter, on the table in the lounge.
He just drank her in with his eyes, afraid one word might make her disappear. After all, he’d hallucinated before. And his mind was muddled enough after last night’s fiasco. What was she doing there? Hadn’t he let her go?
“Well, eat it while it’s hot.”
The aroma wafted into the room when she pulled the foil off. He tried not to drool as he snatched a fork from the drawer and sat down. She took the chair opposite, holding the package clutched to her chest.
He nodded toward it. “What’s in there?”
“Something for you. Just something I had.” She pushed it across the table to him.
She’d come bearing gifts?
“I’m sorry about last night.” She looked sincere, biting her lower lip.
He didn’t say anything to that. It was so un-Laurie to bring a reconciliation gift, he wasn’t sure how to respond. He set down his fork and reached for it, pulled the paper off the book and read, “Selected Poems. Uh …”
“I know it’s poetry, but there’s some in there I think you’ll like. Robert Frost’s. I always think of you when I read him.”
“And you think it’s time I got past
The Cremation of Sam McGee
?”
She smiled. “Like you, Frost loved the woods and … well, the road not taken.”
What was she saying? The road not taken … their road? Better not go there. With Laurie it was never good to assume. Take things at face value. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She leaned back in her chair while he savored the turkey and stuffing and green-bean casserole, and suffered through the yams. “This is really good.” Between bites, he relished her. Just having her across the table was so unexpected, a bonus he would never have anticipated.
“I’m glad you like it.” She looked cute in the turtleneck and oversized flannel shirt. It reminded him of when she used to wear his.
It had amused her to knock around in his clothes. First his letter jacket, then his class ring, then his flannel shirts. Maybe he’d thought wrapping her in his trappings would somehow hold her. He’d been wrong, though.
She folded the foil into a compact square. “So … give me a tour?”
He wolfed down the last bites and wiped his mouth, then led her out of the lounge to the garage. He walked her around the ladder truck. “You saw this baby seven years ago. Remember we went for a spin?”
“I remember.” She rubbed the fender.
To celebrate receiving one of the four paid positions with the department, he’d hijacked the engine and picked her up. She hadn’t been overly impressed.
“Volunteering’s fine, but why not learn a real profession?”
By that she’d meant something that paid better, required a suit maybe, diplomas on the wall. The things that mattered to her.
He turned. “That one’s for search and rescue, medical emergencies. It takes the brunt of the load these days, except for fires. Still need the ladder for that.” Something quivered inside.
Don’t go there. Don’t picture or imagine. Don’t remember
. “Here’s where we bunk.” He dragged his thoughts back and swung his arm toward the adjoining sleeping quarters, a small eight-by-eight square with two bunks and a clothes rack. No good lingering there either. He headed up the stairs to the office and conference room.
“This is where we do business, training, that sort of thing. I’m in charge of the new recruits. I take them green and turn them out seasoned and ready for action.”
Right. As though anyone is ever ready
.
“What else do you do?”
“Wanna see some magic?”
“Magic?”
He motioned to the stairs, and she preceded him back down.
“I won’t do the costume if you don’t mind. If a call comes in, I don’t want to respond in clown makeup.” She laughed. “I’d guess not.”
“Take your seat, ma’am. I’m about to dazzle you with feats of cunning and sleight of hand, wonders of such magnitude as never before seen within these walls.” And that was true. He never did his act for the guys. He pulled down the box of puppets while she took the chair in the lounge. He positioned the wooden-headed fireman on his left arm and worked the lever to the mouth. “What’s this, Cal? We get to play for this babe?”
“That’s right, Rocky.” He used his straight radio voice to respond.
“Wow!” The puppet rocked back. “Beats those runny-nosed kids any day.”
“That’s for sure.”
“So … is there remuneration?” Cal lurched the puppet toward her and worked the eyebrows up and down.
She rested her chin on her fist, elbow to the table. It was obvious she wouldn’t encourage him. But then, she never had.
He pulled the puppet back. “Nope. This is a free performance.”
“I didn’t mean money, bonehead.”
“Who are you calling bonehead?” Cal rapped his knuckles on the wooden skull.
Laurie laughed.
“Hey, cut that out.” The puppet ducked away.
“You sit here and behave yourself.” Cal settled Rocky on the edge of the table and pulled out an aluminum pan full of wadded paper and an oversized lighter. He’d start with his best trick. “Now, then, would you be so kind?” He handed her the lighter.
She ignited the paper. It had taken him a while to work into this trick, but he didn’t show it. He clamped on the lid. “Grease fire. Think quick; reach for the …”
“Baking soda.” Laurie pointed to the box he held up.
“You hear that, Rocky? The lady’s a sharp one.”
Cal reached for the puppet with one hand and worked the mouth. “Pretty too. Brains and bod—what a combination.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure that line goes over well with the kids.”
“Watch your mouth, Rocky. You can’t insult an audience of one.”
“It wasn’t an insult.” The eyebrows worked up and down. “Cal likes the brains. I prefer the—”
He yanked the puppet up by its neck. “One more word, and it’s back to the box for you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” He clapped the wooden mouth shut with a snap.
Laurie shook her head, laughing. He fed on that laugh.
“Now, then. Pour the baking soda into the pan.” He turned the vent in the lid, and she shook in the baking soda. “That’s good.” He spun it shut again. “Say the magic words.”
Laurie said, “Abracadabra.”
“No, no, no. We do fire magic here, lady. The magic words are stop, drop, and roll. Help me out, now. Stop …”
She spoke the words, and he flung open the lid to reveal the white mice scampering inside. She leaned forward. “How’d you do that?”
“Ah, ha, ha.
That
is the question. But I’m—”
The claxton toned.
“Grrr. Don’t move.” He ran for the garage extension, picked up the hotline, and listened to the dispatch. No getting around it. “Engine two in service.” Cal hung up, snatched his coat, and met her in the doorway. “I gotta go.”
“Go.”
He leaped for the smaller truck, triggered the garage door and the emergency signal, and fired the engine. “Watch your ears!” He started the siren. Glancing in the rearview mirror as he pulled out, he saw her standing in the doorway, hands to her ears like a little girl. He wished he could just hug her.
Laurie watched until the lights and siren were gone. Turning back, she searched the big sterile room that held the trucks and gear. Cal’s place, his work. More than work, his identity. As long as she’d known him this was what he wanted to do. But she’d been surprised when Mildred said he was there today.
She must have misunderstood. Laurie thought back to the old conversation. Hadn’t Cal intimated that he no longer worked in an active capacity? She walked through to the lounge and looked at the puppet lying on the table. She ran a finger over the wooden features and smiled.
How many men could pull that off with a straight face? He didn’t sound stilted or stupid. And his magic had improved, though he was no slouch in high school. The kids must love his program. Luke and Maddie would. And the mice … It was all trickery, of course. But then, what wasn’t?
She looked at the book on the table where he’d laid it. It was a silly sentimental gesture, more his own kind than hers. But she hoped it would show him … what? She took a pen from the jar on the table and opened the flap. Staring at the page for a moment, she thought, then wrote,
To Cal. A true friend is worth more than any lover
.
A step behind her made her jump. She turned to face Rob Kilmer with a breath of relief. But his expression was both concerned and annoyed.
“Laurie? What are you doing here?”
It was so direct she grew defensive. She waved toward the plate. “I brought Cal dinner.”
“Why?” The word was thick with meaning she couldn’t miss. Why her, why now, and what was she trying to do?
Uncomfortable under his gaze, she capped the pen and put it back into the jar. “It’s Thanksgiving, Rob. I brought Cal a plate of turkey dinner. Is that so hard to understand?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the tip of his tongue along the edge of his teeth. His manner irked her, and she turned it on him. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to make sure everything was under control.” His tone said “I belong here, you don’t.” It was so clear he might have said it aloud.
“Cal’s out on a call. Didn’t you hear it?”
“I don’t carry a pager when I’m off duty. It’s against FSLA regulations to volunteer for the job I’m paid for.”
“But you’re here.” She challenged him.
Rob stared, his animosity tangible. “I’m checking on a friend.”
Laurie drew a quick breath. “Well, I was just leaving.”
“Don’t leave on my account.” He walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a mug, then turned. “When did you come back?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“Didn’t waste any time.”
She looked away. How could she explain she wasn’t there to hurt Cal or even to start anything again. She just needed a friend, and there was no one else in Montrose. No one anywhere, not like Cal.
“I just hope you know …” Rob cocked his jaw with a sharp breath, obviously unsure whether to say what was on his mind.
She waited, but he just shook his head and sipped the coffee.
“Why don’t you say it, Rob?”
“All right, I will. He’s been through hell this last year, something you wouldn’t, couldn’t understand.”
Laurie pictured Cal curled up on his knees, hands pressed to his ears, gasping. No, she didn’t understand. Cal wouldn’t let her. Maybe Rob would explain.
But Rob’s face hardened. “The last thing he needs …” He stopped and pointed the index finger of the hand holding the cup. “He got over you once. Why don’t you leave it alone?”
She drew a slow breath and pulled the flannel shirt around herself. “Tell him I had to go, okay?”
“Leave him a note.”
Laurie met his eyes, the hostility clear and unwavering. Well, she deserved it. In a way she was glad Cal had a friend like Rob. She scrawled a note onto a green Post-It pad, then gathered her dignity, along with the empty plate, and walked out.
A
BLIND MAN WILL NOT THANK YOU
FOR A LOOKING-GLASS
.
English Proverb
C
AL REACHED MAPLE’S IN EXCELLENT TIME thanks to the lack of traffic. He grabbed his jump kit and rushed in. The handful of diners were all clumped around the overweight man on the floor—Harrel Draper, the mechanic at Lou’s.
“Let me through.” Cal pushed in and dropped to his knees.
Harrel belched and pounded his chest with a hammy fist. “Look, Dottie. They called in the cavalry.”
He didn’t look like a heart attack happening. By his smell, he’d slugged a few before hitting Maple’s for dinner. A bad combination— enough booze to kill the natural defense against Maple’s fare. If anything his color was redder than normal, so Cal decided against delivering oxygen until he’d taken Harrel’s vitals. “Any pain in your left arm?” He wrapped the blood-pressure cuff.
“Nope.”
“Shortness of breath?”
“Much as always.”
Pulse was a little weak, pressure high, probably permanently so. “You on blood pressure medication?”
“Nope.”
“I’d recommend you check with the doctor on that. Any other medication?”
“No. Some Rolaids sometimes.”
Beth Summers arrived, Montrose’s only female volunteer and a very competent EMT. She made her way through to them. Cal quickly gave her the SOAP—what he’d already learned subjectively, objectively, and his initial assessment, but he hadn’t yet determined the plan. Clipboard ready, Beth took down the information and questioned Harrel further on medical history.