Captain Harry Zander, rumored to be the nicest guy in the department, and Lynne’s new captain, calmly gave out orders as Engine 4 sped to the fire scene on her first day shift in the CCFD. “Follow me to Incident Command, and you’ll get your assignments there. Lucas, no offense, you’ll stick with me. It’s your first call with us.”
She almost snorted in the backseat with three other firefighters. She’d been a firefighter for eleven years in a smaller department in the village of Dannerville and rose to battalion chief, a rank higher than hers now.
Zander grumbled, “I can hear you almost snort. Gimme this one.”
“Yes, sir.”
White smoke billowed out of the windows on the burning house, and from where they parked, Lynne saw the fire was really rolling. An aerial truck and another engine were stationed on the west side of the structure. They dismounted the rig and the putrid scent of something besides charred wood filled the air. At least it was above forty degrees today, though a bit windy.
They crossed to Battalion Chief Tom Frasier. “Hey, Harry.
Lay a line from the East. Get water on the brick. Then we’ll need ladders thrown for search and rescue. Somebody’s inside.”
Lynne’s coworkers, Dynai Blackfeather and Cameron Loder rushed to the rig, got out the two-and-half-inch line and hauled it over their shoulders to the closest part of the dwelling. Billy Braxton, the driver, remained at the water controls on the rig.
In under two minutes, her group had the wet stuff on the red stuff.
The smoke turned even blacker. Zander frowned. “Lucas get the 4-incher and hook it up to the plug.” Which was twenty feet away.
Braxton had already pulled the hose out when she got to the rig, and Lynne humped the line over to the street and unscrewed the cap with a hydrant wrench. She knew to open the valve slowly and fully, as a partial release could cause serious damage to the plug and the firefighter. “It’s wet.” Which meant there was already water in the barrel. She strode to Zander with the hose. He got behind her.
Lynne levered the nozzle back and the large hose bucked, pushing her into Zander with its force. He groaned. “Lightweight.”
She sprayed the bottom floor and as soon as the flames were out, she did the same on the top. The brick peeled back and they could see the plastic insulation, which must have caused the smell.
The cap shook his head. “A disaster waiting to…”
Pop, pop, pop, pop! Holy hell. From living out in the county, Lynne recognized the sound. "Somebody’s shooting at us?”
“Not necessarily.” Though there had been crazies who opened fire at firefighters. Zander radioed Incident Command. “What’s the noise from, Tom?”
“Ammunition in the basement. Let it run its course and get back as far as you can. Hold onto the hoses in case of reignition from the bullets.”
Lynne stepped two feet further back and listened to the ammo cooking. There had to be hundreds of rounds down there.
Over the radio, they heard, “Mayday, mayday, firefighter shot in the leg.”
“Fuck.” Frasier again over the radio.
The injured man wasn’t in their line of vision. But she could see the aerial raise from the truck and firefighters climbed up to the top. A stream of water erupted onto the roof.
Sirens sounded close by. Lynne looked over her shoulder. Another engine screeched to a halt in the front of the house, with an ambulance right behind.
Still, they waited. The inactivity chilled her so she jumped up and down a few times.
Finally, they heard, “All clear.”
Zander jogged to the front of the house and took the steps to the entrance. He ducked inside, but he came out immediately. “The stairs are gone.” He radioed the message.
“Vent from your side then. Another truck is on the way,
but got delayed by a detour. Nobody guessed this small fire would turn so bad.” He swore. “Get the Hurst tool from the truck that’s already here. Their crew is busy assisting the engine. You and your probie make the cuts when I give you the go ahead.”
“Go get the saw, Lucas. I’ll get the ladder.” He’d already brought along a halligan and pike.
A probie met her halfway and handed her the tool. She jogged back and saw Zander had already raised a ladder. “You wanna do it?”
“Yeah.”
“Go ahead.”
She started the saw on the ground, a must for venting because if the tool didn’t work on the roof, they weren’t going to open in time. It roared to life. Switching it off, she handed the cutter to Zander and took the halligan and pike from the ground, then climbed the ladder up to the peak of the roof. She staged the pike, which would be used to lever the roof later. Up here, the wind was worse and she felt its force.
Before she stepped on the roof, she tapped the shingles with the halligan in case it was spongy. It wasn’t, so she hammered the halligan ax into the roof between the lower rungs of the ladder. She stepped up and braced herself with one foot on the ax. She took the saw from Zander who’d followed her up.
He said into his radio, “On the roof, chief.”
“Vent now.”
With the wind at her back, Lynne turned on the saw then stepped off the ladder. She made the first cut away from her, did a quick second cut on an angle, then a third downward cut. Next, she made another cut toward her on the bottom.
She stepped back onto the ladder because cut five would be the final one to complete the rectangle. The saw snarled its way through from the first cut down to the fourth. Quickly, Lynne grabbed the pike and hooked it on the far end of the sliced square. It louvered up on a beam which then shielded her when the fire burst out in angry flames. The angled piece of roof also funneled the heat and smoke away from her.
Zander said into the radio, “Ventilation complete.”
They descended the ladder and once on the ground, Zander pushed up his facemask. Lynne the same. The cold stung her in the face. “Good work, Lucas.” His smile was big and genuine. He reached over and squeezed her shoulder.
“Thanks, sir.” She knew she’d done everything perfectly. She should. She’d taught this maneuver to recruits.
Together they gathered the tools and walked over to Incident Command.
“It’s a fucking circus here,” BC Frasier said when they reached him.
Zander asked him what was wrong.
“A rookie didn’t have his air pack on and it took time to strap him in. And the damn ammo endangered us all, then hit one of my favorite lieutenants in the leg. To top it off, the aerial got stuck. Luckily on its way down. But totally avoidable.”
Zander checked his watch. “We made decent time.”
“Yeah, I know. But I hate mistakes.”
He clapped Frasier on the arm. “Try to look on the bright side, Tom. We did okay.”
“Harrumph.”
When the crew piled into the rig, which was gratefully warm, Braxton and Blackfeather were chatter-bugs. He said, “I wonder how much ammo and guns the guy lost. I heard the owner was cryin’ about it on the lawn after they got him out.”
Blackfeather’s expression darkened. “I saw Davidson get shot. Scared me shitless.”
“What’d you do?”
“I’d stepped back as soon as the popcorn sounds started. But I dragged him out of the way of more bullets.”
Lynne watched the dynamics. She noticed Zander didn’t chat. Like she never had. Too many things to remember for the debriefing.
When they got back to the house, Lynne bounded off the rig and stopped to take in a breath of early November air. The call had been exhilarating. This was the exact reason she’d upended her life and come to Crystal Corners.
* * *
On Lynne’s first day off, she and Brooke took a walk around Brooke’s neighborhood. Despite the thirty-degree weather, they braved the elements and went at a good clip. Luckily the noon sun was out, keeping Brooke warm in a down jacket and hat. Lynne was cute in a dark green thermal coat and white earmuffs.
“How was your first tour in the CCFD?” Brooke asked. She liked hearing about the day-to-day job stuff of her friends.
“It went well. The captain is a doll like people say.”
“Harry Zander, right? We all adore him. He taught a class with me once and the recruits took to him.”
“Yeah, Zander’s great. And I liked Dynai Blackfeather.”
Brooke chuckled. “That woman is a dynamo for her size. I helped train her. JJ said she was on the second-in crew on that ambulance tip-over call and was essential to the rescue.”
“Yeah, I remember. The other two guys are a little aloof. I can deal with that.”
Brooke squeezed her am. Their breath huffed out as they walked. “Did you get settled into David’s house?”
Lucky for Lynne, the husband of one of the Sisters of Fire had offered his place to her when she’d moved up to Crystal Corners. David had vacated it to live with Tess.
“Mostly. I didn’t unpack everything. I’ll get my own house when we finalize the divorce.”
After Lynne graduated from the academy, the plan was to move back to Dannerville, her hometown, and work in the fire department—for a while. But Ken reneged on his promise to resettle in Crystal Corners twice and finally, after ten years of his refusals, she decided to move on her own. Their relationship was all but over by then, anyway.
They turned a corner and kept talking. “So, Ken’s keeping the one in Dannerville?”
“He is. And I get the lake cottage. A fair trade. He’s being overly cooperative because of Mary’s pregnancy. He wants a quickie divorce.”
Furious at Ken’s infidelity, Brooke swore. “The shithead. Is he at least embarrassed by what he’s done?”
“Not in front of me. But he’s a town councilman and he’s gotta be chagrined with them, and the rest of Dannerville, I’d guess.”
“Is Mary living with him?”
“No. And I hope my kids will move in with me before the divorce is final and she does. They don’t want to inhabit a house with the other woman.”
Brooke’s expression was sympathetic.
“Okay, I’m done,” Lynne said. “You’re not going to get away without telling me how Brooke is.”
“Brooke gets better every day.” It had been four months since Zach died. “In some ways the pain has lessened, is at least tolerable. At other times, it bursts upon me and I want to curl into a fetal position.”
“Getting ambushed must be hard.”
“Suzanne Blakely’s my friend at the academy. She suggested I go to a grief group.” The psychologist was a terrific addition to the fire department.
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“I’m not sure opening up wounds is the way to heal.”
“Those wounds haven’t scabbed over yet, honey.”
“Probably not.”
Slowing down, they turned toward home and walked in silence for a block or so. The quiet was natural between them.
After a bit, Lynne spoke again. “I might go to a group, too.”
“Yeah?”
“It’s called Flying Solo, for parents who don’t have partners.”
“Is it a matchmaker site?”
“God, no. I’m not ready for that. Supports groups are run by a psychologist from Elmwood, then they do social activities together.”
“Hmm. Go for it.”
“Want to come with?”
Brooke was horrified at the notion and stopped. “I’m so not there.”
“I should have known that.” She squeezed Brooke’s shoulder. “Sorry.”
“Let me know what happens, though. Maybe you’ll meet Superman.”
“There’s no such thing in my near-future, Brooke. I just want to concentrate on my job and my kids.”
Which was Brooke’s mantra these days, too.
Light snowflakes landed on their cheeks as they reached her house. “Come in for coffee?”
“I’d love to. I’m so happy to be here to do these informal things with you.”
“You have no idea how much I’m thrilled by your move.”
Lynne linked arms with Brooke as they took the path up to the garage. They both sighed contentedly.
* * *
Later that night, Lynne called up the Flying Solo website. The next meeting was tonight in Elmwood, where the group was held. And she didn’t have the kids until tomorrow when Phillip and Melody arrived.
“What the hell?” she said to herself. “Take a risk.”
Running a brush through her hair, wearing the same athletic suit she walked in, Brooke grabbed a jacket, her keys and a small wallet that fit into her back pocket, then left the house. Twenty minutes later, she walked into the Elmwood Town Hall and was directed to the designated room by a security guard. The corridor was filled with the scent of coffee. At the doorway, she saw the area was large and well-lit, with about thirty people sitting in a circle. Taking a deep breath, she crossed to the table at the entrance.
“Hi, I’m Carly. Welcome to Flying Solo.”
“Hello. Lynne Lucas.”
“This your first time?”
“How could you tell?”
“I know pretty much everybody in the group. Would you fill out a form for introduction purposes?”
“Sure.” She took a chair a few feet away, entered some routine personal data and returned it to Carly.
“Thanks, Lynne. You’re the only new person tonight. We’ll introduce you. It’s our practice.”
“Go for it.”
Joining the group, Lynne dropped down into an empty chair between a woman and a man, who both greeted her.
Surveying the group, she noticed most people were more dressed up than she was. Her gaze stopped on Brady Jamison, wearing jeans and a chambray slate blue shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. He stared down at a clipboard Carly had given him, then raised his head and scanned the participants. No signs of recognition. He stood. “Hi, everybody. We have a new person tonight, Lynne Lucas. Lynne, could you wave to the group?”
Lynne waved. “Hello.”
Brady grinned at her. “Lynne is new to Crystal Corners and is,” again he glanced down at the paper “oh, wow, a firefighter.”
“Me, too,” the guy next to her said. “Mike Holly.”
“Hi, Mike.”
Brady continued, “Tonight, we’ll discuss future activities first, then break up into support groups for an hour. You have a choice of three: Healing, Parenting Downfalls and How to listen to your children. Then, we’ll have social time for the rest of the evening until ten.”
Lynne sat silently as the group offered suggestions and Brady wrote them down. At one point, someone asked, “Do you have an activity you’d like to do, Lynne?”
She said, “I went ax throwing this year. It was a lot of fun.”
“Tell us about it.”
She recounted her night with the Sisters of Fire and someone asked if she’d like to plan an event there. “Um, sure, if I come back.”
Brady smiled. “We’ll put you down.”
They broke up after an hour and several people approached her. She wished Brady had. As the room emptied, she headed for the support group she’d chosen. Still, he hadn’t sought her out.
* * *
Brady poured some coffee in the hall where the pot was set up in front of three smaller rooms. He was glad when Lynne Lucas came up to him. Even without the makeup, her eyes were a startling green. Unbraided, her blond hair was full and round her shoulders.
“Hello, Fairy Princess.”
“Hello, Fairy Princess’s father.” She cocked her head. “You know, you remind me of somebody.”
He rolled his eyes. “Ever see the seventies film Love Story?”
“Yeah. Annie, one of my friends, made a group of us watch it one night. She’s a romantic. That’s it. You look like a young Ryan O’Neal.”
He actually blushed. “The spitting image, my mom says.”
She chuckled.
“So, a firefighter, huh?”
“Yep, my life’s work. What do you do?”
“I’m a psychologist.”
A chime sounded. She asked, “Which group are you going to?”
“Healing.”
“Hmm. Me, too.”
They walked in together and took one of the rectangular tables that seated four people. Their shoulders touched.
The group was called together.
“Hello, I’m Abigail Simmons. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m a child psychologist and I work out of Westside Family Medicine. Tonight’s topic was chosen by a vote some time ago.
“Healing! A simple word but one we can’t live without if we’ve survived the death of a spouse, are separated from a significant other or are divorced. Future talks will cover healing for children but your kids will get better faster if you’re in a good place. Here are some points I’ll cover tonight.
“One. Give yourself time to heal. And I don’t just mean before dating again. I mean to mend your heart. It won’t happen overnight.
“Two. For some, healing can involve learning to love yourselves again, and for others, it could be learning to be on your own as a single parent.
“Three. As much as you may feel like you can never do this alone, don’t get dependent on others until you’ve proven to yourself that you can make it solo.
“Four. The only true way to have a healthy relationship with anyone is to be a whole person, aka healed, before you begin something romantic.”
After several members shared opinions, Abigail summarized each point and kept the discussion moving. The time flew.
When the session ended, Brady walked out with Lynne. “So, what did you think?” he asked.
“It was all great advice. I wish it didn’t take so long to heal.”
“You go in and out of it. My wife’s been dead two years and things still happen that make me feel sad.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What about you? How long have you been divorced?”
“We filed in mid-October. But it’s uncontested so the whole ordeal should be over by Christmas.”
“You must be raw from the situation.”
“When I let myself think about it.”
“As a psychologist, I recommend allowing the feelings to surface. You’ll heal faster.”
They reached the larger room. “Are you staying for the social hour?”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
For some reason, he really wanted her to stay. “Come on, I’ll stick by you.”
“All right.”
She met people and chatted amiably with them. She seemed to have fun. When the night ended, Brady was close by and told her, “I’ll walk you out.”
They left the hall headed toward the exit. “I’m glad you suggested I stay. I had fun.”
“Then my job is done.”
At the coat-check room, Lynne went inside to get her jacket. Standing back as she walked away, he noticed now how nicely she filled out the sweat suit. When she came back, Brady asked for her coat, then held it out for her. She poked her arms in but her hair tangled at the collar, so he scooped it out of the neckline. His fingers grazed soft skin and the lemon scent of her locks threw him some.
She pivoted. “You’re always getting me out of things.”
He blanked.
“Um, I didn’t mean clothes. Or future clothes.”
He laughed.
“Now that I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night I’ll leave. Goodbye, Dr. Brady Jamison.”
“Goodbye, Lieutenant Lucas.”
Again, he watched her walk away. And experienced something unfamiliar. This was the first time since Jenny died that he felt a strong physical attraction for another woman.