Kathleen Y'Barbo - Her Holiday Fireman

“What’s up, Mayor?” Ryan called.

The old man crossed the road to lean against the fender of the Jeep. “Got a minute? I thought maybe we’d take a ride. Save me the time of showing you around come Monday morning.”

He thought about it. With nothing back in Houston to hurry home to, there seemed no harm in taking a spin around town with his new boss.

“Sure. Why not?”

Nodding, the mayor gestured toward his vehicle. “We’ll take mine.”

By the time Ryan reached the truck, the mayor had the windows down and the engine humming. They made their way along Main then turned left at Vine Beach Road as silence reigned, which was fine by Ryan. He never did well with small talk anyway.

“Where’d you end up settling?” the mayor finally asked.

“Here, actually,” Ryan said as the collection of beach houses came into view around a bend in the road. “The yellow one with the green shutters is mine.” For six months, anyway went unsaid, but barely.

Murdoch answered him with an agreeable nod then adjusted his hat and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “You were something over in Houston. A regular HFD superstar.”

Ryan stole a sideways glance at the mayor and wondered what else the man knew about his days at HFD. “I just watched and learned, and I guess did all right.”

“You did more than all right, boy.” He paused and worked his jaw a bit, looking as if he were chewing on the words he would say next. “I’m sorry about the loss of your wife.”

So he knew. Ryan mustered up a nod of thanks but otherwise kept silent. The polite conversation that went with being a widower had yet to get any easier.

“Must have been tough,” Murdoch said. “What with you being a first responder and nothing you could do to save your bride.”

The image that statement brought forth was one Ryan knew would never permanently leave his mind. The image of his wife floating unconscious, his inability to revive her. It was all there just as if it had only occurred.

“Yeah,” he managed to say, but only because he figured no response would cause Murdoch to keep talking. “So what’s out here that you wanted to show me?” he asked to change the subject.

Up ahead, Pop’s Seafood Shack loomed, its tin roof and pale weathered boards shining almost golden in the afternoon sun. Mayor Murdoch pulled the vehicle to a stop at the edge of the lot and shut off the engine. Instantly the dull roar of the waves filled the air.

While Ryan watched, the mayor reached into his pocket and pulled out a tin. Offering a mint to Ryan, who declined, he then popped one into his mouth. Murdoch chewed on the spearmint for a moment. Finally, he shook his head.

“I’m just going to be plain honest, Ryan. That all right with you?” When Ryan nodded, the mayor continued. “You’re young.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, though it had been a long time since he’d felt it. With thirty on the horizon, old seemed as if it was heading toward him like a freight train.

“When your uncle Mike called me, I didn’t see how I could manage a full-time fireman’s position here in Vine Beach, what with the winter here and the tourists pretty much gone. But Mike and me, we go way back, so I decided I’d do what I could. ’Sides, we were gonna have to replace Carl Berry before tourist season anyway. Thing is, he never took a salary for it, though nobody expected the new guy to do the same.”

He looked to Ryan for a response. “Yes, sir” was the best he could do. Ryan knew Uncle Mike had gone way out on a limb to call in a favor from his old army buddy, but he had no idea the last chief had done it free.

But then Uncle Mike knew how important it had been to Ryan to do as Jenna had asked and make a new life at the beach where the two of them had one day hoped to live. Not in Galveston. It was too soon to move there, given the amount of time they had spent planning their future lives in that city.

Instead, he’d gone to Uncle Mike to ask him to look out for any jobs in beach towns that weren’t too far from Houston and home. To his surprise, the Vine Beach job had come just in time for their anniversary. Even now Ryan didn’t know whether that was an omen or just one more way for him to torture himself about a marriage that was over before it ever got started.

“Then I thought, well, I do need to carefully consider my responsibility to the good people of Vine Beach. And part of that responsibility means keeping them safe, sometimes from themselves. Don’t you agree?”

Now, that was a strange statement. “I suppose so,” he said slowly.

Murdoch’s attention shifted to the restaurant and rested there. “Some folks, they just don’t see the need to follow the rules.” He jerked a thumb toward Pop’s. “A firetrap if ever I’ve seen one. Not that I’m the expert. That’d be you.”

A man didn’t have to look hard to see the potential for danger in the ancient wood structure. And danger was what he specialized in preventing. Strangely uncomfortable, Ryan looked away. Thus far he’d only made one friend in this town, and even that friendship seemed rife with potential problems. Not a good sign.

“Leah—she’s Berry’s daughter—runs the place now that he’s...” Murdoch’s voice trailed off. “Anyhow, she’s just about as hardheaded as it gets, but you probably know that having just spent some time with her.” When Ryan ignored the statement, the older man continued. “Can’t figure why she stays when she had that good job with the historical folks in Galveston.” Murdoch looked at him as if he might have the answer.

Ryan thought back on her reluctance to elaborate on her reasons yesterday. “People do things for all sorts of reasons,” he said. “But not everybody likes to talk about them.”

Murdoch’s harrumph told Ryan how the mayor felt on the topic. After a minute, he leaned back against his seat and toyed with the brim of his cap. He seemed lost in thought. Then, quick as that, he reached to turn the key in the ignition.

As he did, he fixed his attention on Ryan. “I’m no expert but this place probably ought to get a look-over when you start your inspections.”

Ryan shifted position. Whatever ax Jack Murdoch had to grind against the owners of this restaurant, he wanted no part in it. And not because he’d come to know Leah Berry, even slightly. But once again, he found himself thinking of the job he’d been hired to do.

Thus, he answered carefully but firmly. “I figured to start with the schools then the hospital and nursing home since they’re of greater public importance.”

The mayor gave him a curt nod. “Makes sense. But when you do get around to Pop’s, don’t let that pretty redhead distract you from your job. If there are fire code violations, it’s your duty to report them and see they’re corrected.”

“Sir, with all due respect, you hired me to do a job and I intend to do that job,” Ryan said.

Sure, Leah was pretty—especially when her eyes shone as she helped the Wilson girl bait her hook. But Ryan wasn’t about to let anyone compromise his reputation. Not that a woman like Leah would ever ask him to.

He could tell that about her already. She had integrity.

The mayor nodded. “Glad to hear it, son,” he said.

He made a quick left onto a road so narrow the truck’s side mirrors nearly brushed the fence posts on both sides. “See that place over there?”

Murdoch gestured across the highway to the burned-out shell of the once-magnificent Berry home. To the right of the main building were several other structures that he could see much better on close range. The nearest to the road was definitely a weathered barn while the remainder were most likely a collection of storage buildings of some sort.