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Cortland had stopped at the clinic early Friday morning before her flight to Alaska. “Doctor Stewart, line two, urgent. It’s your father.”
Cortland sprang forward in her office chair, tossing the keyboard out of the way before reaching for the phone line. “Daddy? What’s wrong?” Her voice trembled.
“Cortland.” He paused, sobbing heavily. “Faith. Your Aunt Faith.”
Leaping to her feet, Cortland demanded, “What? What happened?”
It was a few seconds before he could control his sobbing and speak again. “Pulmonary embolism, honey. She went fast.”
As the news sank in, tears fell down her cheeks. “A pulmonary embolism? But how?”
“You know as well as I, it’s a rare but possible complication of a long bone fracture. Probably a fat emboli.”
Heavy with emotion, Cortland barely recognized his voice. She slumped down into her office chair. “My God. I was supposed to fly out this afternoon.”
“Probably a good thing you already have plane reservations.” He sniffed. “My office manager is rearranging my patient schedule and booking flights. Her attorney called to say I’m her executor, so I may be there a while.”
Fear shot through Cortland’s chest, rattling her further. “Are Mom and Greg coming with you?”
“I don’t think so. She’s taken to her bed. Greg hasn’t uttered a word since the phone call.”
They were both quiet, as quiet as two weeping adults could be. “I—I can’t believe it. She said she had some things to discuss with me. We thought we had plenty of time.”
“There’s no such thing as plenty of time. We both know that from previous experience, if not from our professions,” her father said, his tone miserable.
The statement knocked the wind out of her lungs. He was right, of course, but the reference to Jessica’s untimely death compounded the feelings of loss. “I ... I have to make some phone calls.” She started to remove the phone from her ear but stopped. “Daddy, I love you.”
“I love you too, Munchkin.” His sobbing increased. “Keep me posted on your flight p— plans.”
***
Looking over the list of available firefighter jobs on the website brought a shiver to Dawson’s spine. He scanned the list as he scrolled down with his mouse. There were lots of jobs out there, but many were entry-level. Nearly all wanted at least Emergency Medical Technician certification. Some jobs wanted paramedic-level medical training. Dawson grunted. He had the EMT cert, so he was good there. And he knew he didn’t want a paramedic position embedded in the fire department. He wasn’t qualified for that and certainly didn’t want that level of medical responsibility.
Continuing to scroll, he noticed a few industry jobs. While the idea was interesting and probably better salaried than municipal jobs, the unease in his mind led him to continue searching. Hmm, an airport firefighter. Clicking the posting for Homer, Alaska, he reviewed the mandatory job requirements. They wanted airport rescue firefighting training and six months of experience. Nope, not qualified.
He checked a few more firefighter job postings: Georgia, Louisiana, Texas, San Diego, Las Vegas, Florida, and New Mexico. Too hot! And the position in Louisiana was only paying $17.25 an hour.
Screw that! He hadn’t worked his butt off in Colby to go backward. His determination to find a lateral move strengthened. The last thing he wanted was to make less money, though he was open to possibilities, provided it was still above a captain’s position.
Captain. Jackson’s words came back to him. He’d been fortunate to get where he was today. Unease in his gut swirled, thinking he’d only gotten so far because of his father’s death. Maybe getting into the department as a rookie had been because of his father, but he’d busted his ass to measure up and excel to the best of his ability. The ache in his gut turned sour. He knew he could go further if given a chance. But as Jackson had hinted, it wasn’t likely to happen here in Colby. Even if the higher-ups respected his father’s sacrifice.
Dad. The anniversary of his death was coming up. Dawson clenched his teeth, thinking of yet another church service and cemetery visit with his mother. She had been so stoic during his father’s funeral. Yet every year of remembrance since made it harder for her. And he and his sister were the only ones to pick up the pieces.
This year would be especially hard. His own thirty-first birthday was just around the corner. Despite the idea’s absurdity, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d die this year. His father had died at thirty-one. Was he meant to as well? And if he didn’t die, how would he feel living longer than his father?
His cell phone rang. It was Jackson. “Yup.”
“Daw, want to come over for dinner. I bought a bunch of baby back ribs. They’ll be marinating all afternoon.”
“Sounds good. Can I bring anything?”
“Just yourself.”
Dawson was going to hang up but thought of something. “Hey, before you hang up. How’s your back doing?”
“Oh, it’s as cranky as me,” Jackson said. “I’ll see you later.”
His focus went back to the computer screen but not for long. Daggers embedded in his legs diverted his attention as Smokey climbed up into his lap. Not to be outdone, Sadie tried to join her sister. Rather than have another set of claw marks up his leg, Dawson plucked the yellow tabby off the side of his jeans and set her down in his lap.
Over the next hour, he selected a handful of job postings to respond to with his résumé. Iowa, Colorado, Pittsburgh, Illinois, Virginia, Massachusetts, and Anchorage, Alaska. All while trying to keep both kittens off his computer keyboard. At the last minute, he added a position in San Francisco to the list. It was hard to forgo the opportunity for a six-digit salary, even if it was in earthquake and brushfire country.
His frustration escalated as the kittens wouldn’t sit still. Fed up with the constant distraction, he scooped up his charges and deposited them on the couch. To keep them there, he dumped out the bag of cat treats next to them. They pounced on it greedily.
Three hours later, eyes burning, he shut down the computer and stood up from the desk in the corner of his living room. He glanced over at the couch and chuckled. The kittens were snuggled together, sound asleep. Heading to the kitchen for a drink, he was diverted back to the desk when his cell phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID. He raised his eyebrows when he saw it was Cortland. Snatching up the phone, he answered before it rolled to voicemail, “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” she said but didn’t continue.
He sensed a reluctance on her part. Curious at her call and hesitation, he probed. “I’ve been meaning to call. So, to what do I owe this ... contact.” He walked back to the kitchen with his cell phone on speaker.
“Yeah, I, um, need a favor.” Cortland’s words came out piecemeal, like she chewed and contemplated each.
He grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the cap off, and took a long chug. When she didn’t continue, he blurted out, “Well, what do you need from me?” Immediately he regretted his gruff tone. “What can I do for you?” he said a little more gently.
“I have to leave town. Can you possibly cat-sit for the weekend?” Her voice wavered.
“If you can bring them over, sure. They’re related, and what’s a few more? When do you need me?” He wiped the condensate off the side of the bottle into the sink.
“Tonight. The person who was supposed to do it canceled at the last minute. I expect to be gone for three to four days. I can give you food and disposable litter boxes for them.”
“Sure. That’s fine.” He paused. “What about your dog? Harrigan?”
“Harris. Hannah and Andrew are going to take him. He’s best buds with Maggie and Toby.”
Trip? His curiosity was piqued now. “Where you going?”
“Alaska.” She sniffled. “I have a funeral to attend.”
Feeling like an ass for probing, he quickly said, “I’m sorry. Is there anything else I can do?”
Listening intently now, he could hear her muffled sobbing. She must have put her hand over the microphone. “Hey, I’m sorry.”
“I heard you.” She sighed heavily. “Thank you. For your help. I’ll bring them over in an hour or so. Is that okay?”
“No problem. Do you know where I live?” Trying to lighten the conversation, he gently teased, “Or have you been stalking me at home too?”
He smiled when he heard her chuckle briefly. His heart lightened, knowing he’d brought some levity to their conversation.
“I haven’t stalked you at home—yet. But if you give me your address, it will be easier than following you home.”
His chest warmed at the tone of her voice. Still grinning, he gave her the address.
Dawson glanced around the apartment kitchen and living room, two large rooms separated by a breakfast bar. Everywhere he looked, he saw detritus. By the time Cortland arrived, he’d transferred all the dirty mugs, glasses, and dirty plates to the dishwasher and straightened up the couch pillows, though it disturbed Smokey and Sadie. They immediately wanted to play while he tried to fold the throw. When he placed it over the back of the couch, the kittens started to climb it, knocking it back down helter-skelter on the couch. “Hey, ladies!” He shook them off it and replaced it only to have them scamper up it once more. Dawson rolled his eyes.
The doorbell rang. He groaned, his eyes scanning the area. Not too shabby now.
Cortland stood outside, a cat carrier in one hand and a paper bag in the other. “Hi.” She stared up into his eyes as he reached and took the carrier for her. “Thanks.”
She entered the living room, setting the bag down. “There’s food, treats, and toys in here, along with those disposable litter boxes.”
“One for each kitten?” He said, glancing up as he freed the two kittens from the carrier. “What’s their names, anyway?”
“The yellow one I call ‘Marm,’ short for marmalade. The white with black spots is “Moo.”
He raised an eyebrow, “As in moo-cow?” When she nodded, he added with a smile, “Very original.”
She ignored his comment, glancing down to watch the four kittens reunite on the floor. They immediately started to play together. “That went well.”
“Did you think they wouldn’t play nice?” He smirked.
“There’s always the possibility, though they’ve only been separated for about three weeks.”
“Was it sudden?” He cringed, not believing he’d asked such an insensitive question.
Her lips pressed together, Cortland nodded, her eyes visibly filling up.
Jackass, now you made her cry. “I’m sorry I asked.”
“No, it’s okay. I should get used to it.” She wiped her cheek with her palm. “It was sudden. My Aunt Faith, my father’s sister. She broke a bone a week or so ago and had a pulmonary embolism. If you know what that is.”
His medical training had taught him about PE. Enough to know there wasn’t much an EMT or paramedic could do about it, in the field anyway. And when it struck the lungs, it tended to be fatal. “I do know. I’m sorry.”
She reached down and stroked each kitten’s back. “It was fast. I guess I should be grateful for that. I just wish I had been there. Maybe ...” She couldn’t continue, and a new rush of tears streaked down her face.
“I’m truly sorry.” Stepping forward, he grasped her hand. “Do you need a ride to the airport?”
“No, Hannah is going to drop me off.” She retreated hastily to the door. “Thanks for everything.” She turned back toward him, her face fractured with pain. “Got to go. If you have any problems with the cats, call Andrew or Hannah. The cell phone service in Alaska is sketchy at best.”
“Of course. Don’t worry about us. Have a safe journey. If you want to reschedule Tuesday’s hike, just say the word. We can do it another time.”
“I’ll let you know. Tuesday’s hike might be exactly what I need after this weekend.”
He followed her to the door. Snatching her hand, he pulled her gently around. As his thumb caressed the back of her hand, their eyes met. “Be careful.” With a nod, she turned back, and he let her go. From the porch, he watched her drive away.
Alone again, he sat on the couch, letting the four kittens crawl and play over and around him. He’d wanted to ask her out about their date, but it clearly hadn’t been the right time. Maybe he could tackle it when she returned to pick up Marmalade and Moo.
Now, he needed to get over to Jackson’s for barbeque.