Allie Pleiter - Falling for the Fireman

Chad put a hand out, knowing instantly what she was up to and certain it would only make things worse. “You know, I’m not so sure that’d be a good idea.”

Jeannie huffed and stepped around his hand. “Of course it is. He’s probably panicked out of his mind right now.”

Chad had never been a parent, but he had been a thirteen-year-old boy. Despite not having enough sense to move the drill, Chad did have enough sense to remember that someone’s mom coming to the rescue would be instant humiliation in middle school. He owed Nick the only thing he could still do—delay the boy’s mother until she calmed down enough not to make a scene. Maybe even keep her from showing up at all. He grabbed the doorknob before she could reach it. “Even if he is upset—and yes, it’s my fault if he is—you rushing in to scoop him up is only going to make things worse in front of his friends.”

Any fear in her face was now replaced by a fierce, protective glare. “That’s out of line. You’re not his mother.”

“No, I am not his mother. I botched this, but let’s leave it at that. If you go over there and make any kind of scene, you’ll just make my bad call a worse situation.”

“I wouldn’t make a scene.”

He looked at her. She was a loving mother. She’d most definitely make a big scene. It was what loving mothers did. It was part of what made being thirteen so wonderful and awful at the same time—that much he remembered vividly. “You wouldn’t? Really?” He pointed down at her clenched fists.

“Okay.” She unclenched her hands, a tiny bit of the tension easing off her shoulders as well. “I might make a bit of a scene. I mean, look at me, I’m a mess already.”

He couldn’t help but smile just a bit. “Yes, but you know it’s a drill now and you’re less of a mess. I expect the same is true of Nick. We threw him a curve, but he seems like a strong kid. Maybe we need to let him figure out a way to get over it on his own.” He gestured toward the chair, and she sat down again. “If you like,” he went on, grasping for any idea that might help, “I can call the guidance counselor in ten minutes. You know, see if everything went okay. I can casually mention Nick and see what she says. You and I can get a cup of coffee in the meantime and think of ways to punish Plug for his thoughtless escape.” When she hesitated, he was surprised to hear himself add, “And maybe think of some way to reward you for making it across the street under dire circumstances.” His tone of voice seemed to be coming from some other man. Some warm, friendly guy he didn’t recognize. He disliked her stalwart optimism, but she fought so hard for it that he couldn’t bring himself to fault her. “Coffee and ten minutes. Then you can boast to Nick about having made it across the street and into the firehouse for a whole ten minutes. Sirens included.”

Her hand flew to her chest again, flattening up against the big, cream-colored fisherman’s knit sweaters she wore. The thick weave made her seem even smaller, made the flush in her cheeks stand out all the more. “I don’t think my pulse has come back down to normal yet.”

Chad felt a grin take over his face before he could stop it. “In that case, maybe you shouldn’t drink George’s coffee.”

Chapter Five

Chad made sure he was in the firehouse when Nick came over to walk Plug the next day. He also made sure Plug stayed in his office so he’d have a chance to see how the boy fared. No amount of remorse would shake responsibility for what he saw in Nick’s blue eyes: the inner storm beneath his pose of teenage apathy. Yesterday obviously hadn’t been the best of days for Nick. He was very glad to be here, but trying hard not to show it.

“So the fire drill was no big deal?” Chad made a careful effort to sound casual as he handed Plug’s leash to Nick. He double-checked the file he was “reading,” making sure he wasn’t holding it upside down. He suspected Nick would linger in his office, and the boy had. Nick spent a few minutes playing with Plug, tussling with the hound in fidgety unease. Chad caught as many surreptitious glimpses as he could over the top of his file.

“It was a…bit…weird,” Nick finally offered after a pause that was so long Chad had forgotten he’d asked a question. The boy busied himself with the leash. His hands stilled just a bit before he added, “Loud.”

Chad pretended to need another folder from his filing cabinet, which meant he had to walk close to Nick. “That siren sure is loud, especially in here. If you’re in my office when the siren goes off, it’ll rattle your teeth.” He snatched a glance at Nick and then shifted his gaze out the windows to Tyler Street. “Hey, I wonder if it rattles the windows in your mom’s shop? Do you know?”

Nick forced out a bit of a laugh. “She jumps every morning at ten when you guys test the sirens. I don’t know about the windows, but it rattles Mom, which is dumb because you do it every day. She knows it’s coming.”

So the boy sensed his mom’s fear of the fire station. That made him doubly unlikely to tell his mother anything about yesterday, and Chad knew from the principal that yesterday hadn’t gone well. Any other fire drill, and it would have been purely an internal school matter—no sirens, no fire trucks. Any other kid, and Chad might have waved it off as just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Chad wasn’t one to poke his head into these kinds of things, but there was just something compelling about Nick Nelworth. For whatever reason, Chad wanted to help Nick if he could. Provided things didn’t get messy or complicated.

Chad pretended to hold a receipt up to the light coming through the window. “She tell you Plug dragged her over here yesterday? In the middle of your fire drill?” He kept his voice as casual as if he were asking the weather.

He watched Nick’s reflection through the window glass. He was surprised, which meant Jeannie hadn’t told him of her escapade here. He wondered what that meant as he watched Nick think it over, too.

“You came looking for me, did’ya, boy?” Nick ruffled Plug’s floppy ears, but made no comment about his mother. “I was in school and besides, I can’t come by every day. At least not yet, anyway.”

Chad turned around to face Nick. Plug was a big dog, and Nick was small for an eighth-grader, but he seemed especially small as he sat there on the floor of the office. Chad parked himself on the window ledge for a moment, letting himself enjoy their playful interaction. Plug’s constant slobber didn’t phase a thirteen-year-old in the slightest, and the dog came to life around Nick in a way Chad hadn’t seen before. George was wise to put them together. “The whole thing was pretty funny, actually. Plug snuck out, near as I can tell. He carried his leash over to the shop and everything.”

Nick pushed his forehead up against Plug’s droopy eyebrows. “Did you do that, Plug? Did’ya?” Plug responded with a generous wet lick up Nick’s cheek that sent the boy into giggles.

Chad ventured further. “You ought to be proud of your mom. It scared her to death to come over here with the sirens wailing but she made sure Plug got back home safe.” That wasn’t exactly how it happened, but close enough.

“She even freaks out whenever the sirens go off at home…at our apartment.” Nick corrected himself with obvious distaste. “And we’re four whole blocks away up the hill. She won’t come over here. Well, she wouldn’t come over here before.” He caught Chad’s eye. “Betcha she’ll still say she sends me ’cause she’s too busy, but it probably still creeps her out.”

Chad had to tread very carefully here. He slid his weight off the windowsill and hunched down to Nick’s level under the guise of finding a twig on the floor. “Probably still does. Sirens and fire engines do that to lots of people.” He waited to see if that elicited some kind of response from the boy. When it didn’t, he added, “I had a big fire happen to me…and a friend of mine…years ago and I still jump a bit when that thing goes off.”