3
Gavin scrawled his name across the last of the paperwork, grabbed his phone and keys off the desk, and headed for the firehouse door. Why was there always last-minute work to do when he had somewhere to be? It wasn’t that he had many appointments, but when he did, getting away on time seemed impossible.
A vacuum cleaner rumbled against the floor down the hallway, and the smell of burned popcorn hung in the air. He put on his sunglasses and left the building. June’s heat and humidity fell over him like a wool blanket, and it wasn’t yet nine in the morning.
Three bays were open. Fire truck seven was out of its bay as a crew washed it and two members checked off the equipment. The rear-entry doors to ambulance three were open, and two EMTs were taking inventory and restocking it—another check-off task. When firefighters and EMTs weren’t out on a call, they seemed to spend half their time doing checkoffs.
“Have a good shift, boys.” Gavin inwardly smiled at his calling them “boys.” At twenty-eight he was younger than most of the men here. He went toward his pickup.
“Lieutenant?”
Gavin knew Bryan’s voice well. He was the captain’s kid, a fresh-faced fifteen-year-old who longed to become a firefighter. Gavin pulled his phone from his shorts pocket and pressed the Home button, checking the time. The information verified he was already fifteen minutes late. There was no way to know if Bryan was here of his own accord or if some of the men had sent him to keep Gavin from getting to his destination. Still…
Gavin turned. “Hey, Bryan. What’s up?”
Bryan seemed to want this life every bit as much as Gavin had when he was young. But Bryan was far more qualified than Gavin had been. It’d been a battle for Gavin to earn a spot as a firefighter. He’d been obese and clumsy. Sometimes that unhealthy kid version of Gavin seemed like a stranger he’d once met, and he ran about five miles daily to stay ahead of him.
Bryan rubbed the back of his neck, taking his sweet time before answering. “I’ll finish my first aid and CPR courses next week.”
Gavin knew what he wanted. “Yeah? The courses will be done, but the real question is, Will you pass the tests?”
Bryan laughed. “I’ll pass.”
“Then, yes. Once you’ve successfully completed the courses, you can shadow me. Okay?”
Gavin started for his truck again.
Bryan kept up. “I need you to sign this.”
“Can it wait?”
“No, I was supposed to have it signed last week. If I don’t have it ready to turn in first thing tomorrow, I’m booted from the class.”
“Come on, Bryan. You’re full of beans, man.”
“No, really. Please.” Bryan looked innocent and sincere, but Gavin glanced at the crew in the driveway doing their work. They appeared to be focused on their jobs, but were they really? The whole lot of them lived to harass one another. However, he didn’t have time for their pranks right now.
But on the chance he was being unfairly suspicious of what was going on, he nodded. “Fine. I’ll sign it.” He took the pen and put the sponsor card against his palm, but the pen didn’t work. He shook it and tried again, cleaned off the end of it and tried again. It still wouldn’t work. He looked at the pen. “I need to go. I’ll stop back by here after the meeting at the lawyer’s.”
“No! You’ll get busy and forget. Just wait. I’ll get a good pen.”
“Bryan, I have to go.”
“I’ll grab a pen and be right back.” Bryan ran toward the fire station door.
Gavin stood there, holding the card and useless pen. Jimmy glanced his way, and despite wiping down the fire truck and such, the other men seemed to have an eye and ear out for what was going on, although that was just Gavin’s gut feeling.
When Jimmy glanced his way again, amusement tugging at the lines in his face, Gavin knew for sure what was happening. Apparently he was looking at the reason behind his inability to get out of the station when he had appointments. Gavin realized they’d also planned the stack of last-minute paperwork that only he could sign. Of course they had. How gullible was he, anyway? And how many times had they caused him to run late?
He walked toward the lieutenant on duty, holding up the pen. Jimmy kept a straight face, but most of the other men were chuckling.
“How’s your hand, Lieutenant Jimmy?” Gavin asked. It felt good to be the target of harassment. During the first year after his dad died, Gavin was exempt from all pranks. Maybe now, eighteen months after his dad’s passing, the men were determined to make up for lost time. If so, Gavin had a target on his back, and just the thought of it made him want to laugh. It should make for some interesting pranks over the next few months.
“What?” Jimmy cupped his hand to his ear.
“Did your hand cramp up while you doodled until this pen ran out of ink?”
“Now that you ask”—Jimmy slung his hand as if it hurt—“it is bothering me, and I don’t think I can work today.”
The men broke into laughter as if they were at a live comedy show. Despite wanting to keep a poker face, Gavin slipped into a smile before regaining control. He pointed at them, refusing to look amused.
But firefighters, EMTs, and paramedics needed to mash—to laugh and joke and become like brothers—because no one knew what they’d face during the next call. This Glynn County station was one of nine firehouses, and it averaged nearly four calls every twenty-four hours, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year.
Foolishness, merciless teasing, respect, trust, and love kept them sane and functional for the next call.
“It’s not all that funny.”
“I agree. It’s not.” Jimmy grinned. “But we’re laughing more about what will happen next. ’Cause the Glynn Girls will have a dozen bees in their bonnets when you’re late, especially if they learn it was due to a pen.” Jimmy used two fingers to imitate a person running. “Better run along, Sonny Boy, or the next call for help the department gets will be from you as you’re being flogged by your mamas.”
Bryan held out a new pen. “I hear having four mamas is tough stuff.”
“You have no idea.” Gavin took the pen and clipped it on his shirt before shoving the card against Bryan’s chest. “But I will get you for this.” He pointed at the men in the driveway. “All of you.”
The men guffawed.
“Yeah.” Gavin pulled his keys out of his shorts pocket. “It’s all fun and games until the genteel Southern women come after you.” He pointed at Jimmy and then swooped his hand across to include the others before he turned toward his truck.
“True,” Jimmy said, “but it’ll be quite hard for you to convince them that I used all the ink in a pen, and if you can convince them of that, they aren’t going to believe something as small as a stack of paperwork or an empty pen caused you to be late.”
Gavin chuckled. He’d lost this one. Somehow he needed to up his game.
“Is that what the Glynn Girls are really like?” Bryan asked. “Your mom taught my Sunday school class the whole time I was growing up. Miss Julep seemed real nice. A little fussy, but she made us cookies.”
“She is real nice, but when the four are banded together without Sunday school restrictions? Hoo boy.”
The captain came out of the firehouse, spotted Gavin, and strode across the lot. “You’re still here?”
The men broke into laughter again.
“Things happen while you have that infernal vacuum cleaner running. Your son can fill you in since he’s part of the cause.”
“You’re just joking about the Glynn Girls being mean, right?” Bryan’s eyes moved back and forth as he looked from his father to Gavin and back again.
“Maybe.” Gavin wasn’t letting Bryan off the hook that easily. He got in his truck and turned the key, letting the air conditioner run.
“Nope.” Captain Dan clapped his son on the shoulder. “You better watch out once Gavin tells them what held him up.” Captain pointed at Gavin. “His mamas—the Glynn Girls from Glynn County, Georgia—are sweet and salty, certain and muddled, gentle and fierce.”
“Yeah, that’s it. Sunday school teacher and Mr. Hyde,” Gavin teased. He pushed the button that lowered his window, and he closed the door.
Bryan held up the card. “I really do need this signed. The bad pen was their idea.”
“Later, Son. Give us some space.” Captain nodded toward the firehouse. Bryan and the others slowly scattered, returning to their work. The captain knew Gavin was running late for an appointment, so if he wanted to talk anyway, Gavin would give him a few minutes. Worst-case scenario, his mamas and the lawyer would need to reschedule. But could the law office work them in later today or tomorrow? He hoped so.
Captain put his hands on Gavin’s truck door near the open window. “I won’t keep you, but my wife and I happened to be on the marina yesterday with some friends, and being there got us to talking about your dad’s death and the stress it caused your family, financial and otherwise. She made me promise to prod you for some answers, and then she texted me while I was vacuuming, asking if I’d spoken to you privately yet. You know my Millie; she’s cared about you since you were a teenage junior fireman, and she wanted to check on you. It’s so hard to believe your dad’s been gone eighteen months.”
Gavin nodded. “Sometimes it feels like yesterday, and other times it feels like I’ve been without him for a decade.”
“That’s rough, Gavin.”
“Yeah, but it’s also life. I’m fine.” The words felt funny coming out of his mouth. It wasn’t a lie. His words just held more hope and determination than reality. They would be fine if his and the Glynn Girls’ plans actually worked out.
“The rebuilt part of the marina looks great.”
“Yeah?” Gavin chuckled. “It’s only been a year since I helped finish the repairs.”
“That’s me, a year late and a grand short.” Captain looked down, a lopsided smile on his face. “I was outside shooting off firecrackers with the grandkids that New Year’s night, and I saw your dad’s fireworks. Did I ever tell you that?”
“I don’t think you did.” But there was so much to process during that time that Gavin had a hard time remembering who said they’d seen the grand display.
Captain chuckled. “I know the accident was a tragedy, and I’m not making light of it, but your dad went out in a blaze of glory.”
A smile tugged on Gavin’s lips. “He did that. No doubt.”
It helped soothe his and his mom’s grief to know the accident spared his dad from being bedridden and dying of lung cancer. When he was diagnosed in November, the doctors had given him only months, and that wouldn’t have been the way Dad wanted to go. But if he’d known what his final “Hey, y’all watch this” act on this earth would do to his family, he wouldn’t have bought the fireworks in the first place.
“And the lawsuit from the injured bystander?” Captain asked. “Is it still an issue?”
Gavin shrugged. “We settled…more or less…” They’d had to take out a balloon loan.
His mom hadn’t been anywhere near the marina that night, but as a co-owner of the boat—a boat without insurance—she was on the hook for damages to the marina and the personal injuries of a man who was standing nearby. The man’s injuries healed within a month, but because of Gavin’s dad’s negligence, the injured man had hired lawyers, and he intended to take Gavin’s mom to court. He would’ve easily won what he was suing for. But Gavin met with him and said that once a jury was involved, there was no guarantee that the person suing would win, and he’d have steep legal fees. Gavin convinced him that a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush. The man settled outside of court for a fourth of what the lawsuit asked for, but it was still a hefty amount.
Soon after the incident Gavin sold his home in Brunswick, moved in with his mom, and put every dollar from the sale toward the debt. His mom mortgaged her house to the hilt and pulled all equity out of her business. Of course, they’d also used up every bit of his dad’s meager life insurance. The huge balloon payment for the loan they’d used to settle the lawsuit was due in July.
But as far as the marina and the injured man were concerned, they’d paid the debt.
“More or less?” Captain asked. “ ’Cause if you need money, we could do a chili cook-off at the station, and—”
“I appreciate the offer, but no thanks.” Not only would that be completely inappropriate, but also it wouldn’t be a drop in the bucket of the money he needed. But he had a solid plan, and it would be all right.
“Your mom is still living in the house she and your dad built before you were born, right?”
“Yeah.” Gavin tapped the gearshift. “This stuff we’re discussing is why I’m supposed to be at a meeting right now with my mamas and the lawyer.”
“Oh.” His captain’s eyes grew wide. “That’s where you’re going. Go. We’ll talk later.”
Gavin waved and drove out of the fire station parking lot and onto the main road. He glanced at the clock on the truck’s dashboard. He was now twenty-five minutes late. The upside of living on a tiny island is he never had far to go. The downside was that the tourist traffic in June was as thick as the air. Both would be worse next month.
He didn’t like to talk about the accident or the financial issues it caused, especially to coworkers. People wavered between being sympathetic for the Burnsides’ loss and feeling angry because of the senselessness of it.
Those things pulled at him like the swirling currents pulled at the sand on the island. He was an only child, and his mom had lost so much within a few months’ time. How could he not do everything in his power to save her home and to keep her business alive? He could fix everything, even if he had to do financial gymnastics to make that happen.
If things went as planned, he would have all the money necessary to pay everything off without his mom losing her home or business. All he had to do was remove a historic home piece by piece, subdivide its plot of land, and sell both, even though none of it actually belonged to him.
What could possibly go wrong?
Tara tried to move. Why was her body unbearably heavy? High-pitched beeps were echoing. Muffled voices droned on just outside Tara’s darkness.
She struggled to pull free of her nothingness, free of what seemed like a deep sleep, but each time something dark and heavy fell over her. Pushed against her. Pulled her down. She rolled in it, black tar clinging to her heart. Its fumes were toxic and suffocating. How many times had she tried to wake, but this thing—this weight of a mountain—had taken up residence inside her, and from her feet to her knees seemed mired in thick mud. Her mind felt warped and damaged from the viciousness growling at her, threatening to devour her.
What was happening? And what was that thing, that unfamiliar, God-forsaken thing?
“Tara…” A deep, soothing voice called to her, and soon other voices joined in—young and old, male and female voices—calling her.
The weight of the mire and darkness lifted. The heaviness of the earth’s pull and that of her own body released her. A small light on the horizon drifted toward her, growing larger, and as it did, the toxic fumes dissipated, and a lovely scent of flowers filled the air. The black tar seemed to glide off her skin. Was she dying?
Wispy rays of white light gently touched her, and she felt a peace unlike anything she had ever experienced. Sean and Darryl came to mind, and the light seemed to want to permeate every thought with peace and hope and joy.
An inkling of fear for them edged in. They’d lost so much already. She fell to her knees. God, am I dying?