America's Bravest (33 page)

Of course it was the fear, the deep wrenching
fear of losing Tony. Sometimes, though, with the separation, she
felt like he was slipping away from her anyway.

Glad to have arrived at the hospital, which
treated patients from all the surrounding areas, she parked,
hurried inside, stored her lunch and went to the big, white board
in the surgery wing where the schedule was posted. Though most
people hated the atmosphere of hospitals, the PA crackling, the
phones ringing incessantly and the smell of ammonia, it all brought
Sophia peace because she’d wanted to work in medicine all her life.
As a pediatric surgical nurse, she was scheduled for two surgeries
today. A few post ops. A lot of charts.

Noting the surgeon whose staff she was
assigned to, she was glad to be working with Brock Carrington. He
was a stellar cardiologist, well liked, happily married. Maybe. Who
knew? Everyone thought she and Tony had iconic wedded bliss.

She was in the scrub room soaping her
hands—the scent of harsh soap and antiseptic stung her
nostrils—when Brock came in. “Sophia. You’re looking lovely
today.”

“Considering I have a paisley cap on my head,
that’s hard to believe.”

His blue eyes twinkled. “Entitled to my own
opinion.”

“Does Susan know you’re such a flirt?”

“How do you think I got her?”

They chuckled, then turned serious. He began
to scrub as he talked. “This case is a tough one.”

“Open heart surgery always is.”

“The child’s only three.”

“Ah.” She stared down at her nails, which she
was cleaning with a stiff brush. “Young.”

“You ever going to have another?” he asked.
His wife gave birth two months ago to her third girl.

“No, we’re all set.”

“I always wanted three.”

I would have had three,
she thought,
banishing the notion as soon as it came. She hated thinking about
the loss of so long ago, which could be accessed by the most
trivial thing.

Five hours later, when they left the OR, she
was dripping wet under her gown and scrubs and her knees were weak.
She didn’t know which she wanted first, food or a shower.

“Nice job, doctor.”

“The kid’s going to be fine.” He gave her a
long look. “Have lunch with me? After we shower?”

She startled.

He grinned. “No invitation intended. I meant
separately.”

“Of course you did. And I brought my
lunch.”

“Bring it along. Meet you in the cafeteria in
twenty.” With that he walked down the hall.

She was staring at his retreating back when
Isabel, her sister, came up to her. “He’s a lot of gorgeous man,
isn’t he?”

Sophia turned. “Is he?”

“You don’t even notice because you have your
own gorgeous one at home. I wish I did.”

Isabel was divorced and having a hard time
with being a single woman again. Sophia was glad she lived in town
as their two brothers had shocked everybody and had gone to work in
Puerto Rico.

“Tell you what, Izzy. Why don’t you go pick
your kids up at Mama’s when you get off and we’ll have dinner at my
place.”

“Tony’s not home?”

“Um, no, he’s on nights.”

After Isabel left, Sophia let out a heavy
breath. She hadn’t told anyone but her mother, not even Izzy, who
she was close to, about hers and Tony’s separation. Because she
hoped it wasn’t permanent. She hoped it ended soon. She hoped Tony
would either quit the fire department or transfer to the Academy.
Somewhere he was safe.

With that unfortunately dim hope, Sophia
headed to the showers.

oOo

Tony was in a lousy mood today, anyway, but
when they got the call for a fire in an elementary school, his
state of mind got even worse. Little kids freaked out at fire and
often did something stupid.

When the rig arrived at the scene, the
students were still exiting the building. Quint and Midi 7, the
other two trucks in his firehouse, pulled in behind them. Engine 6
was also on site. Gabe hopped off the truck, said, “Ramirez come
with me,” and headed to Incident Command. Chief Erikson had already
set up a computer on his truck.

Erikson looked up worriedly. “Gabe, your
team’s going to do search and rescue as soon as we get water on the
blaze. Right now it’s confined to the back of the building, where
the cafeteria is. The kitchen’s a concern, so we need to be
careful.”

“Are all the kids out?” Tony asked.

“We’re getting a head count now. Classroom
teachers are responsible for keeping track of their students.”

Just then a worried looking woman strode
toward them. Her hair was wild and she had smudges on her face.
“I’m Sara Jensen, the principal. One child’s missing. A first
grader. Her teacher didn’t see where she went.”

“What’s her name?” Tony asked.

“Carrie.”

The chief checked the progress of laying hose
and slapping water on the fire. “As soon as Engine 6 gets their
water on the front, go in with your guys, Malvaso.”

Tony and Gabe hurried to the rescue rig. “Don
full gear,” Gabe told all of them. “We can head inside in a few
minutes. One kid, a little girl named Carrie, is missing.”

Amidst the cacophony of sounds at the fire
ground—the pump of the water, the shout of orders, the running
rigs—they tightened their turnout coats, put on their Nomex hoods
and situated their air masks. They were inside the building in
minutes.

“Ramirez, you and Sands take the left wing,”
Gabe ordered. “White, go with O’Malley to the right. I’ll wait for
the other crew to get inside and go back with the men.”

Smoke had reached the front of the building;
it was black and noxious, which was worse than gray or white. The
color meant whatever was burning was bad. At the entrance to the
left wing, Tony said to Sands, “We’ll each search a room that’s
across from the other so we’ll be in proximity.” Contrary to what
was portrayed on TV shows, firefighters worked in pairs. He was
usually with Sands, who had good skills even though she was only
twenty-four. They’d both come out of a city high school program
that trained students to enter the fire academy right after
graduation.

Tony entered room one, Sands went into two.
Thankfully, the teachers had followed procedure and shut the
windows, unlocked the doors and closed them. He searched under the
teacher’s desk, in closets, then left the room, meeting Sands in
the hall. “Nothing?”

“No. Geez, she’s only five.” Her voice was
tinny through her face mask but he could hear her concerns.
Briefly, he squeezed her arm.

They checked four more rooms, all the while
calling out Carrie’s name. And, all the while, the smoke was
thickening. One room was left, so he told Sands to go inside. As he
stood in the hall, Tony’s neck itched. He had a hunch, which made
him go to the very end of the corridor where he found, off to the
right, a small cubby hole with a drinking fountain. Beneath it, he
could barely make out the silhouette of a little girl.

Closing the short distance between them, Tony
knelt and touched her arm. She was whimpering and shaking. “Shh,
sweetheart I’m a firefighter and I’m going to get you out.”

She uncurled herself and hurtled her small
body into his arms, getting him into a stranglehold. Standing, he
held her in one arm and took off his mask. The air smelled vile.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m going to give you air,” he said, inserting
the mask in between her body and his. “It’s like a Halloween mask
that you breathe from.”

“Don’t want to.”

“You have to,
carina.”

Sands came out of the room. “You got
her!”

“Alert the others. My hands are full.”

He started out, gently forcing the air hose
into the girl’s mouth. Once he got her to breathe, she relaxed her
hold on him. They strode fast down the hall and Tony started
coughing.

“It’s getting worse instead of better,” Sands
said, as they reached the front entrance.

Tony choked when he tried to say something.
But soon he was at the door and finally outside. O’Malley dashed
over to him. He took the kid and Tony dropped to his knees on the
blacktop. Vaguely, he registered TV crews on site. Someone handed
him oxygen and he sucked it in. His lungs burned like a thousand
tiny pinpricks. A person knelt next to him. He felt a hand on his
shoulder and managed to look over.

Lieutenant Felicia White smiled. “Great job,
Tony.”

“Thanks, Licia.” He coughed. “We weren’t
inside very long, but the kid…”

“I know. We all felt the terror.”

Again, he choked up phlegm and spat onto the
blacktop, then heard her say, “Uh-oh.”

He glanced up. Through watery eyes he saw the
press descend on them. “Head them off, will you Licia? I don’t want
to talk to them. I don’t want anyone to know what I did.”

“Too late for that,
bombero.
They
filmed everything. You’re the hero of the day. It’ll be all over
television in a matter of minutes.”

Shit, he’d never have enough time to get in
touch with Sophia before the rescue hit the news. About the last
thing they needed as a couple was for her to watch him running in
and out of a burning building.

Tony didn’t feel much like a hero. Instead,
he felt like a failure as a husband.

“Hey, Soph, terrific TV coverage.”

“Sophia, great guy you got there.”

“Go, Tony!”

As she walked toward the nurse’s station,
Sophia acknowledged the comments, but the people who said them were
rushing by so she couldn’t ask what they were referring to. It was
about her husband, for sure. And immediately, she felt her stomach
coil.
Oh, no, here it comes again
. She told herself he was
okay, because of the tone of people’s remarks, but the cramps
continued until she got to the doctor’s lounge and ducked
inside.

Brock greeted her. “Have you seen the TV?” he
asked easily.

“No. I don’t even know what happened.”

“Another daring save by your hero
husband.”

Her throat got tight.

“Come on over, they’re showing it again.”

He sipped his coffee as she joined him in
front of a television; they both stared at the screen.

A clean-cut, good-looking guy read from a
prompter as he faced the camera. “With some recent criticism in the
news of the local fire departments about their hours, free time and
salary, one firefighter earned his pay today when Martin Luther
King Elementary School caught fire in the kitchen.”

A picture of the structure came on screen.
“The building was enveloped in smoke when America’s Bravest rolled
onto the scene to save the day.”

A close-up came on of Tony’s rescue rig as he
jumped off along with the others. For a moment, Sophia appreciated
his muscular six-foot frame, that confident stride that sucked her
in when she was in junior high—and still did.

The camera cut back to the school and showed
him hurrying in with his crew. Well, that wasn’t too bad. This was
something he did every day. Still her pulse sped up. Especially
when the camera panned to the inside of the building, filled with
smoke thick enough to obscure the rooms and people in them.
Suddenly, Tony came on screen at the front door carrying out, oh
Dios
, a child about Marianna’s age. The little girl
head-locked Tony while he held his air hose on her mouth.

Another shot of him on his knees. Coughing,
choking, unable to stand. She felt her own knees turn to gel.

“Sophia?” Brock grasped her arm and brought
her to the couch. He eased her down. Got her a glass of water.

“I can’t or I’ll throw up.”

“What on earth… Jesus, put your head between
your knees.”

She bent over. Her pulse calmed and she could
breathe again. When she felt well enough, she sat up.

“Soph, what happened?” When she looked at
him, his features were taut and his eyes held concern.

“I’ve… God, I hate this. I’ve been having
reactions to Tony’s job lately.”

“What? For how long?”

“A year, maybe. It’s worse around 9/11 and
other anniversaries.”

“Are you getting treatment?”

She frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Psychological help in dealing with these
episodes.”

“I don’t need help,” she blurted out.
“
He
needs to quit his job.”

Brock’s brows arched. “I had no idea.”

Before she responded, Sophia breathed in
deeply, then out again. “I’ve kept it from everyone. But I can’t do
it anymore, Brock. He’s been a firefighter for fifteen years and
it’s always been tough for me.”

Squeezing her arm, he picked up the water.
“Here, drink this now. I think you can handle something in your
stomach.”

The water soothed her parched throat.
“Thanks. I—”

The cell phone in her pocket rang. “Sorry I
have to get this. It’s my personal line.” She checked the ID then
clicked on. “Mama, what’s wrong?”

Louisa’s unsettled voice came across the
lines. “It’s Mari. She saw the TV when she got home from school.
She’s crying”—now Sophia could hear her little girl in the
background—“and wants her father.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Should I call him?”

“No, his shift doesn’t end till five. I’ll
take care of this.” She stood and pocketed the phone.

“The kids?”

“Marianna. She’s upset because she saw the
damned news on television. I’ve got to get someone to cover the
last hour of my shift.”

“Go. I’ll find another nurse for you.”

Doctors never made that kind of offer.
“Really? Thanks so much.”

“We’ll talk more later.”

“Okay.”

Sophia hurried out of the lounge to get her
stuff, thoughts of Brock’s kindness, Tony’s
heroism
fleeing from her mind.

She had to get to her daughter because she
knew exactly how Mari felt.

oOo

Celebration temporarily replaced anxiety and
it felt good. Tony was sick of worrying about his wife, so he
turned his attentions to his crew. They’d cleaned up, and
everybody’s face was bright with victory.