Authors: Kathleen Irene Paterka
She chuckled as she grabbed the phone. Shenanigans at the newspaper office? Hard to imagine stuffy old Charles involved in trouble of any sort, except that which he brought upon himself.
“Hello, counselor.” Mike’s voice rumbled low and inviting.
Hearing his voice brought a rush of feminine pleasure surging through her, straight into her toes. “Funny you should call. We were just talking about you.”
“In a good way, I hope,” he replied.
“Definitely,” Rose said with a laugh. “I’ve been defending your honor. My mother and Lil are having at it with Charles Kendall.”
“He’s at your house?” Mike’s voice registered a verbal frown.
“No, we’re bashing him in conversation.”
“I’m glad to hear Lil is there.” His voice lightened. “Think you could manage to sneak out for a while? I was hoping you’d have dinner with me tonight.”
The unexpected invitation took her by surprise. “I thought you were working.”
“I’m on duty through tomorrow morning, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have company. I’ll give you a tour of the firehouse and cook you something fancy. That is, if you don’t mind eating in the kitchen.”
They’d never faced each other over a table for two in a crowded restaurant. They’d never sat through a movie or danced close together in each other’s arms. They’d shared no real dates, according to any predefined rules. Yet she felt as comfortable and safe with him as if they’d been together for years instead of merely a matter of weeks.
“I would love to have dinner with you. What time?”
“Half an hour?”
“That should work. I’ll check with my mom and Lil.”
“See you then.”
A large yellow fire truck was parked outside the station. Rose spotted Mike and another man coming around the truck as she drove up. The two men were locked in heated discussion. Mike lifted his hand in greeting and beckoned her over as she stepped onto the street. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
The older man looked familiar to her. She’d seen him before. He had been at the hospital on the false-alarm fire run the day of Irene’s surgery—and later that same afternoon as the fire department responded to the kitchen fire at her own house.
“This is Ivan Thompson, James Bay Fire Chief.”
Rose offered her hand. Years of practicing law had taught her you could tell a lot about a person from the way they shook hands. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
Chief Ivan Thompson’s handshake was firm, brief, and dismissive. He shoved a thin file of paperwork toward Mike. “Think about what I said. The two of us will talk soon.” With a curt nod for Rose, he headed for his truck.
She peered at Mike, then the papers in his hand. “He certainly didn’t seem happy to meet me.”
“It has nothing to do with you.” Mike tucked the sheaf of papers tight under his arm. “He’s been trying to take some time off. His wife was diagnosed with a rare form of cancer last month. He doesn’t like leaving her alone too long.”
“Poor guy. Is she…” Rose broke off as the irony suddenly hit her. Mike, just like the chief, had been happily married once upon a time.
“Is she dying?” Mike abruptly finished her sentence. “I don’t know. The chief’s never talked about it and I don’t want to ask.”
A slow, irrational fear crept around the edges of her heart as they watched the chief’s vehicle disappear around the corner. She chanced a quick peek at Mike. His face was in profile, his eyes hidden from view. Was he thinking about Katie? He hadn’t lost her to some dreadful disease, but she was gone from him, just the same.
Suddenly she felt the warm touch of his hand on her own.
“I’m glad you’re here. I could use the company.”
“You’re sure?” she asked quietly. In response, his fingers tightened around her own.
“I hope you’re hungry. Dinner’s nearly ready.”
“What about the grand tour you promised me?” She trailed behind him into the fire hall.
“Patience, Rosie.” His eyes twinkled as he threw her a quick glance over his shoulder. “You’ll see it all soon enough.”
“Patience isn’t one of my virtues. I’m a lawyer, remember? We expect quick results.”
Mike closed the door and they stood alone together in the cool, cavernous garage. She caught a quick glimpse of gleaming fire trucks and first response equipment.
“Patience has its own rewards,” he said with a soft smile as he pulled her into his arms. “But if you want quick results, maybe you’ll settle for this.”
His uniform shirt was crisp against her skin. He smelled like fresh air, aftershave, and fabric softener rolled into one. His kiss was warm and inviting, and she felt the soft sweet urge of her body respond to the gentle press of his mouth upon hers. She kissed him back, moving deeper into his embrace. His lips lingered with lush sweetness, tenderly nuzzling, paying homage to her throat, her neck. His arms were around her, strong and solid as he held her close.
“You’d think I’d have more sense.”
She felt a stab of disappointment as Mike pulled away. Why had he stopped? She’d been enjoying their kisses so much.
“This is a public place.” A sheepish smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Anybody could walk in.”
“You worried? The way you kiss, you have nothing to be ashamed about,” Rose teased.
“You definitely know how to kiss as well.” He reached down and took her hand. “Come on, I’ll give you that grand tour before we get distracted again.”
He led her down a narrow hallway, past open doors. Rose felt a quick rush of color flood her cheeks as she caught a glimpse of the chief’s cluttered office. She and Mike had faced off against each other in that very room merely days ago after the nightmarish fire that brought the Judge’s condominium project to the ground in a blaze of roaring flames. She tore her gaze from the chief’s office as they passed. Their conversation that day had been filled with argument and innuendo. Hopefully her visit to the fire station this evening would result in much more pleasant memories.
Mike pointed out an imposing bank of electronic equipment, radios, and computers. Bright lights flashing red, yellow and green flickered alternately from the machines as electronic voices squawked randomly across the board. “This is our communications center, where we raise central dispatch.”
“Central dispatch?”
“911. Central command,” he said with a patient smile. “All our fire calls come through there.” He led her up a flight of worn cement stairs to the second level and pointed to a large open room directly to their left. “That’s where we hold our fire meetings and watch training videos.”
“Training videos?” The idea sounded novel to Rose. “What’s on them?”
“We’ve got a whole library on different subjects. The guys learn how to use hose lines, proper ventilation, ladder and apparatus use.”
She’d never given the matter any thought until now, but his words made sense. How else were new firefighters supposed to learn?
“Training videos are great, but working an actual fire is the best teacher of all. Fire has a mind of its own. It does what it wants, when it wants. There’s no way you can learn that sitting in school behind a desk.”
“I can relate,” she said with a knowing smile. “I was in law school for three years, but it wasn’t until after I passed the bar that I began to realize how much there was I still needed to learn. Practicing law and working with clients is an education in itself.”
“I graduated from the Fire Academy in Detroit,” Mike replied. “Lots of colleges offer similar programs. Once you finish, you put in time on the job. Some firefighters take specialized training. Hazmat, things like that.”
“Hazmat?” The unfamiliar technology was confusing.
“Sorry.” He shot her a quick smile. “Hazardous materials.”
It was impossible not to catch the determined lift of his chin, the serious look on his face. This was deadly earnest business. Fighting fires was a precise science, not some easy job that merely involved climbing a ladder or holding a fire hose. Thank God there were men willing to serve as skilled professionals. Those brave men who were the nation’s heroes. Though their clothes were stained with soot and smoke, they had nerves of steel when it came to staring down a blazing inferno.
“Fighting fires is like anything else. The best teacher of all is practical experience. We try to provide that for our new guys.”
“How exactly do you do that? Sit around waiting for the next fire call?”
Mike grinned. “That’s not a luxury we can afford. The guys need the experience, so we give it to them. We set things on fire. Houses. Barns. Anything that burns.”
“You are kidding.” She stared at him in confusion. “You don’t actually mean that you deliberately burn things down.”
“How else are the new guys supposed to learn?”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“Not when it’s a controlled burn. People donate junk houses or abandoned buildings to the fire department, which gives us a chance to practice. The new guys already know the practical stuff. How to roll hose, hook up to the engine, run the pumper, or use an air pack. When they’re at a controlled burn, they get hands-on experience in a controlled environment.”
“I suppose it makes sense,” Rose said doubtfully. Who would set a fire on purpose?
Mike leaned against the brick wall. “Think of it this way. It’s like learning how to fly an airplane in a simulator, versus being in the sky with the controls in your hand. If you crash when you’re in the simulator, you can still walk away. But if you’re really flying that plane, there’s no room for error. Some of the young guys who’ve never seen a fire need the chance to get used to the flames. There’s no telling what they’ll do once they finally experience the heat and smoke. We’ve had some guys go through all the training, get their certification, and be gung ho to get to their first real fire. They strap on an air pack and work the fire. But then, once everything is over, they never come back.
“Every man has his own job at a fire scene. He needs to learn to do it fast and do it well—or get out of the way and let someone else take over. There’s no time to teach when you’re in front of a blazing inferno that’s about to take down a fully engulfed building. It’s hard to understand until you’re out there, taking the heat and working the fire. We do the job as best we can.”
Rose quieted, hearing the heat in his voice. Obviously Mike’s patience was wearing thin over the unsolved series of arson. And Charles Kendall wasn’t proving to be any help. His scathing editorial questioning Mike’s competence had only added fuel to the fire and had the whole town talking. But better the townsfolk than the two of them. She didn’t want to waste their time tonight thinking about James Bay or the gossip making the coffee-shop circuit. The two of them were alone, exactly the way it should be. Keep the town and the rumors at bay, far from the fire station and far from Mike. He deserved a nice quiet evening.
“What’s the next stop on our tour?” she asked.
He crossed to a battered wooden door directly to their right and gave it a gentle push.
“And this is…?” Rose eyed him.
“Where we’re having dinner.” He waved her through the open door with a flourish. “Ladies first. After you, Miss Gallagher.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JOURNAL’S
QUESTIONING OF ADEQUATE FIRE
SERVICES DRAWS RESPONSE FROM CHIEF
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The James Bay Journal
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JAMES BAY—In response to demands from local citizenry, James Bay Fire Chief Ivan Thompson appeared before the James Bay City Council last night to defend both his department and Assistant Fire Chief Michael Gallagher. Chief Thompson assured the City Council that despite Gallagher’s lack of success in apprehending the person or persons responsible for the string of recent arsons plaguing our community, the investigation continues to provide new evidence on a daily basis. Additionally, Chief Thompson reports that the State Fire Marshal’s office has been consulted and will be making recommendations for further causes of action in the immediate future.
While Chief Thompson’s report seemed to appease some fears raised by local citizenry and the city fathers, this reporter still waits for an arrest to be made.
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The gentle hum of an air conditioner greeted Rose as she stepped over the threshold. “Why, it’s an entire little apartment of its own.”
A narrow living room, crowded with furniture and a big screen television, spread out before them. Through a doorway off the entry she spied a kitchen table and bright, shiny stove. A door opposite the kitchen stood slightly ajar, giving a brief glimpse of a bedroom dresser. The overall effect was one of comfort and homey surroundings, rather than a working fire station. She turned to Mike with a delighted smile. “This is not what I imagined at all. It looks like a person could actually live here.”
“We do.” His eyes sparkled. “We’re on duty for twenty-four-hour shifts. Did you think we spend all that time behind a desk?”
She trailed behind him as he gave her a quick tour. The first bedroom was spacious, with a large double bed and dresser, while the second was cramped with three narrow beds.
“The chief has his own room,” Mike explained, “in case he’s covering duty for someone. The rest of the guys sleep in the other room. We each have our own bed for when we’re on duty.”
Rose snuck a peek at her personal tour guide. The gleam in his eyes gave credible evidence of his love for the job. The tour was fascinating and the guide even more spectacular.
They ended up in the kitchen, a cozy room flooded with sunshine and the spicy smell of spaghetti sauce. Gleaming modern appliances stood aligned in precise array. Mike threw his paperwork on the kitchen counter as she took in the gingham curtains, clean kitchen towels, matching placemats on the table. It had a woman’s touch. Were there any women on the fire department roster?