Gail Martin - The Firefighter's New Family

Grateful for the day, he wanted to see what he could do to help with Ashley’s house. His own place needed dusting and vacuuming, maybe a load of laundry, but Ashley’s home needed more. His own tasks could wait.

The coffee’s gurgle roused him. He filled a mug with the pungent brew and pulled out his cell phone before settling at the kitchen table. He searched the call log, spotted Neely’s number and hit it. As it rang, he reviewed what he could do to help. After three rings, he raised his finger to end the call. Instead, a man answered. Question sounded in his voice.

“Hi, I’m the firefighter who found Ashley this morning. Is this her sister’s number?”

“Devon. That’s your name, right?” His tone became friendly. “Thanks for your help. We’re grateful.”

He assumed the voice belonged to Neely’s fiancé. “No need to thank me. I was at the right place at the right time.” He paused. “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I’m a bit forgetful.” He chuckled. “I’m Fred Andrews, Neely’s dad. I’m glad you called. You were a hit with Joey.”

“He made a hit with me.” Devon chuckled. “He’s an amazing kid. So smart.”

“He is. You can tell I’m a proud grandpa.” His voice muffled a moment. “Hang on. Neely wants to say something.”

A rustle of noise was broken by Neely’s greeting. “I’ve talked to Ash, and I thought you’d want to know she’s doing okay. She slept after we left, and she’s a fighter. She’ll get out of there as fast as she can. Meanwhile, we’ll be with Joey. My dad’s available to help, and if he’s busy, I can take time off work. Jon, my fiancé, would take a day, too.”

His disappointment surprised him. “No other problems then?”

“Well...” She drew out the word. “Now that you ask, the house is another issue, and—”

“That’s why I called.” His disappointment faded. “I’ll be happy to pitch in where I can. I don’t have a key, but if you trust me, maybe—”

“Trust you.” She sputtered the words with a chuckle. “Goodness, you’re more than trustworthy. But I don’t want to take advantage—”

“I’m volunteering. I have a couple of days off, so I can help. I know a guy who cuts trees—unless you have someone in mind—and I know another guy who can replace the window. I can give him a call about the situation if you’d like.”

“Like? It’s perfect, and by the way, I called the insurance company so they know what happened. So, if you’re willing...” She covered the mouthpiece a moment and then returned. “How about this? Jon just arrived. He can meet you at the house in ten minutes and give you the key. Will that work?”

“Sure does. I’ll watch for his car.”

“It’s light beige.”

“Got it.” When he hung up, he rose and dug into the refrigerator. He pulled out bread and slapped salami and pepper jack cheese between the slices. Dinner with no fuss. With a refill on coffee, he walked to the living room window and waited.

His interest in the project boggled him. Dealing with injured people and property damage was a daily event, and he tried to harden himself to it. Otherwise it would eat him raw.

But today he’d experienced a sense of mission, almost as if he had been called to serve in a special way. It had to be the boy. Kids could twist hearts around their tiny fingers. He’d been twisted already when he’d looked at the little boy’s face.

His daughter, Kaylee, filled his thoughts again. He should have picked her up today, but her mother had called and asked him to skip the visitation this week. She’d sounded different—slow and calculated. He shouldn’t have agreed, but she riled easily. To keep peace, he’d agreed to the change. He’d do anything to avoid arguing. He would see Kaylee on his next days off, but he still didn’t like it.

When headlights reflected on the road, he chomped down the final hunk of sandwich. Though the night darkened by the minute, he could make out a light-colored SUV. He swallowed the last of the coffee, set the mug on the lamp table and stepped outside.

The vehicle pulled in front of Ashley’s house, and as Devon neared, Jon slipped from the driver’s seat. The man stood tall with broad shoulders and a shock of dark hair.

Devon crossed the street and greeted him in the driveway.

Jon dug into his pocket and dangled a single key from a key ring. “This is kind of you.”

“I’m happy to help. I know Ashley is a single mom, and—”

Jon dropped his gaze. “She’s been through too much. This kind of thing doesn’t help.”

Not seeing Kaylee today arose in his thoughts. “It doesn’t.” But he’d admired Ashley’s bravery from the moment they’d met. Questions filled Devon’s mind, but he resisted and he hadn’t needed to.

Jon released a long sigh. “Adam was a great guy. Kind, loving, faith-filled. He would have been a model dad.” Sadness filled his eyes. “He never had a chance. I know that made it more difficult for Ashley. But she only grew stronger. Instead of falling apart, she threw her energy into raising Joey.” Pride replaced his sorrow. “The boy’s bright like his daddy—not to say Ashley isn’t smart—but Adam had something special. I think his son has it, too.”

Devon coughed to cover his unexpected emotion and changed the subject. “I’ll make those calls I mentioned to Neely, or if you—”

“Yes, thanks. If you’ll get estimates, I’ll call her insurance company for approval to proceed.” Jon extended his hand.

Devon grasped it. “Good plan. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

Jon clasped his shoulder. “Thanks again.” Jon shook his hand again and turned down the driveway to his vehicle.

Devon waited until he pulled away, and though temptation to go inside lured him, he didn’t. When he was wound up, his body kicked into endurance mode, and the sleep he needed might never come. Tomorrow made more sense. With that settled, he headed home. Maybe if he tried to read or watch a movie, he’d drift off in his recliner. That seemed to happen when he didn’t want to sleep. Maybe tonight it would work in his favor.

* * *

Devon turned the key in the lock and pushed open the side door. Even though he had permission, walking into someone’s house when they weren’t home gave him the creeps. He wondered if burglars felt the same way. He took the two steps into the kitchen. A carton of milk sat on the countertop and a loaf of bread stood nearby. Ashley said she’d been in the kitchen when everything happened. He poured out the milk and tossed the carton into a trash can he found beneath the sink. He added “buy milk” to his task list.

He passed through a small dining area into the living room and faced the boarded window. A lamp lay on the floor beside a toppled side table. Across the carpet, glass shards glittered in the daylight from a side window. He righted the table, moving it away from the glass, and surveyed the lamp. No damage. The contents of a candy dish lay scattered nearby. He turned over the dish and replaced the wrapped candies, then set the bowl on the table. A photograph lay facedown. When he lifted it, his heart lurched. A good-looking young man, wearing his Class A uniform, blond hair showing beneath his cap. Adam. He’d been right about Joey’s hair color, and now he noticed the similar jawline. A father who had never seen his son.

Though he’d learned to control his emotions, pressure pushed behind Devon’s eyes. He closed them and set the photo on the table, refusing to weaken. A crying firefighter was useless, but hardening his heart was tough.

He walked into the kitchen, and near the backdoor where he’d seen stairs to the basement, he found a small broom closet. He opened it. No vacuum cleaner. He followed his instincts deeper into the house and located another closet, mainly linens with a small space to squeeze the Hoover. He pushed it into the living room, plugged it in and stepped on the button. The machine’s hum filled the silence as he worked it back and forth. When the carpet looked free of glass, he attached an edge tool and inched it along the space close to the wall. Joey played on the floor, he was sure, and he didn’t want the boy to get cut.