Fireproof (16 page)

“Has she thanked you for anything you've done the last twenty days?”

“No. And you'd think after I've washed her car, changed the oil, done the dishes, and cleaned the house, that she would
try
to show me a little bit of gratitude. But she doesn't.”

John pursed his lips, pushed both hands into his pockets, and began shuffling along the campsite's perimeter.

“In fact,” Caleb snarled, “when I come home, she makes me feel like . . . like I'm an enemy. I'm not even welcome in my own home, Dad. That is what really ticks me off!”

His father's eyes were down, loafers still sliding through the leaves.

Caleb shifted his weight on the stump, making sure every word was heard. He could feel the veins popping on his neck and forehead as he vented the feelings he'd bottled inside. “For the last three weeks, I have bent over
back
wards for her. I've tried to demonstrate that I still care about this relationship. I've bought her flowers—which she threw away.”

John's rolled shoulders and downcast eyes showed no reaction.

“I have taken her insults and her sarcasm, but last night . . . That was it,” Caleb growled. “I made dinner for her. I did everything I could to demonstrate that I care about her, to show value for her. And she
spat
in my face. She does not deserve this, Dad. I am not doing it anymore! How am I supposed to show love to somebody
over
and
over
and
over
who constantly rejects me?”

His dad came to a halt at the solitary cross. He looked up, then leaned against the vertical beam as he studied his son through wire-rimmed glasses.

Caleb blinked against the sunlight.

“That's a good question,” John said.

Caleb lifted his gaze to the cross, this ancient symbol of love and sacrifice, then let it come back to rest on his father. With the meeting of eyes, something flashed through Caleb's thoughts. “No.” He hardened his jaw. “No, that is
not
what I'm doing.”

“Isn't it?”

He shook his head. “Dad, that is not what this is about.”

“Son, you just asked me—how can someone show love over and over again when they are constantly rejected? Caleb, the answer is, you can't love her because you can't give her what you don't have.”

Caleb rubbed his forehead, shielding his face from his father.

If God was real . . .

If it was true that Jesus had died for him . . .

No, this was too much, too fast.

“I couldn't truly love your mother,” John said, approaching Caleb with slow steps, “until I understood what love really was. It's not because I get some reward out of it. I've now made a decision to love her, whether she deserves it or not. Son, God loves you, even though you don't deserve it. Even though you've rejected Him. Spat in
His
face.”

Caleb lifted his eyes to the wooden beams. Is that what he'd done?

He felt pierced by his own hardened heart and arrogance. Who was he to complain? By comparison, his own suffering to show love was pitiful.

John's voice turned tender. “God sent Jesus to die on the cross and take the punishment for your sin because He loves you, Caleb.” John knelt, resting a hand on his son's shoulder. “The cross was offensive to me until I came to it. But when I did, Jesus Christ changed my life. That's when I
truly
began to love your mom.”

Caleb gave his father a sideward glance.

“Son, I can't settle this for you. This is between you and the Lord. But I love you too much not to tell you the truth. Can't you see that you need Him?”

Caleb held his chin in his fist. The warmth of his father's hand, the depth of his concern, worked like oil flowing through the cogs and wheels of Caleb's heart and mind. The friction that had been tearing at him, burning through him, began to ease, and now his position became clear.

His father was right. He had broken God's laws. He had hated, lusted, even lied. He had judged his wife for the very things he had done himself. He had scorned the God who had given him life, and he knew if he stood in judgment before the Almighty, he would be found guilty.

Tears pooled in his eyes. He nodded and lowered his chin.

“Caleb, can't you see that you need His forgiveness?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“Will you trust Him with your life?”

Caleb peered at his dad, witnessing in those aging eyes unwavering acceptance, grace, and love. The change in John Holt was real.

I want that, too. Whatever it takes. I can't do this without You. Save me, Jesus.

Nodding, Caleb felt his father's arms enfold him—and he sensed the hint of a greater, larger embrace that would never let him go.

CHAPTER 23

T
here was no magic involved. Captain Caleb Holt's life didn't turn overnight into a landscape of wondrous bliss. In fact, the next day Catherine's tone was more spiteful than ever.

“So, what'd you and your dad talk about?”

“You and me,” Caleb replied.

“Oh, great,” she snapped. “Now you're dragging others into our problems, huh? You made him drive all the way from Savannah just so you could poison him against me? What stories did you feed him this time?”

“Catherine, I—”

“Forget it. I don't even wanna know.”

“Actually, I—”

“You're gonna be late. I don't want to cause you any trouble at work.” She swiveled from the kitchen back toward the master bedroom—or
her
bedroom, as Caleb had come to think of it.

“I'll call you,” he said.

“My phone'll probably be turned off. If it is, don't worry about me.”

Caleb's thoughts raced back to Day One in the notebook, the one that had implored him to say nothing if he had nothing kind to say. At least this time it was easier, and he clung to that small victory.

IN THE MEETING room at the Albany Fire Department, Station One, Capt. Caleb Holt joined the rest of his crew as they waited for the previous shift to head home. Five men stood with duffel bags in hand, weary from last night's multiple false alarms at a warehouse on the edge of town.

“I think someone was messing with us,” Captain Harris told Caleb.

“At two in the morning? That's not very funny. Don't they ever stop to think what would happen if there was a real emergency?”

“There's some people out there who just like watching us run around, chasing our tails.”

All part of the job, I guess.” Captain Harris ran a finger down his clipboard. “We also had two calls yesterday, but there wasn't much to them. We used some CO
₂
, so it might be a little low.”

“I'll take care of it,” Caleb said.

“Already done. I e-mailed in a request to fill it up. And the truck's running fine, so you should be good to go.” Harris relinquished the clipboard and shook Caleb's hand, effectively passing the baton.

“Thanks, Ken. You guys have a good day. We got it from here.”

The two shifts acknowledged each other in passing. Once on their own, A-Shift gathered around their captain.

“All right,” Caleb said. “Why don't you guys load your gear on the truck while Lieutenant Simmons whips us up some breakfast?”

“How 'bout some waffles and bacon?”Wayne suggested.

“No, man. I need me an omelet,” Terrell said.

“Terrell, didn't we have omelets last time?”

“I'll take either,” the rookie said. “I'm not complaining.”

“That's the right attitude. You all hear what Eric said?”

In unison: “Yes, Captain.”

As the men shuffled out, Wayne cornered Simmons. “Listen, if you do make omelets, you think you could stuff mine with a waffle?”

“A what? Does this look like a restaurant to you?”

“I'm just sayin'—”

“Get outta here.”

A tone sounded, followed by a voice through the speaker. “Oh-eight-hundred hours, Albany Fire Department clear.”

Caleb and his crew had a long twenty-four hours ahead.

THIRTY MINUTES LATER, Caleb found Simmons straightening the living area, adjusting the matching blue armchairs, setting two-way radios into chargers, picking up magazines. Although Caleb wanted more than ever to be dependable here on the job, he'd been bursting within, hoping to share his newfound faith with the lieutenant.

Caleb was about to speak up when Wayne and Terrell burst through the door from their assigned duties in the bay.

“Waffle time,” Wayne exclaimed. He hitched his pants and clapped his hands on his way into the kitchen.

“That boy's about to be severely disappointed,” Simmons said.

“
Oat
meal?”Wayne shouted. “That's just cruel, Lieutenant.”

Terrell laughed at the exchange, then scooped himself a large bowl and elbowed into the dining area. Wayne followed, grumbling with each step.

Caleb glanced around, making sure once again that he and Simmons were on their own. He cleared his throat.“Hey,Michael, I'd like to talk to you about something.”

“What's that?”

“Well, uh—”

“Hey, Captain.” Eric appeared out of nowhere, holding something plastic in his hand. “I think B-Shift's trying to pull a joke on us, man. These salt and pepper shakers won't come apart.”

“Hey.” Simmons motioned. “Toss 'em over here.”

Eric complied.

Simmons studied his superglue artwork, saw that all remained intact, then set it on the end table.

“Thanks, rookie,” Caleb said. “Gotta keep an eye out for the jokers around this place. Listen, don't forget to mop the kitchen after breakfast.”

“Yes sir.”

“And change out the battery on that clock. Looks like it's gone dead.”

Eric nodded, then headed off for his food.

Okay, let's try this again.

Caleb tightened his fingers into fists, wondering what his friend and coworker would think of the revelation he was about to make. By confessing his recent decision in the clearing, he would be making himself accountable to it.

Simmons said, “You wanted to tell me something?”

Hands shoved into pockets. A nervous nod.

Simmons waited.

“Uh . . . It's about your faith,” Caleb said.

“My faith?”

“Yeah.”

“What about it?”

Guess it's time to go public.

“Well,” Caleb said. “I'm in.”

“You're in?”

“Yeah. I'm in.”

Simmons's eyes widened.“Now, are you saying that you
wanna
be in?”

“I'm saying, I'm in.”

“You're really in?”

“I'm really in.”

“'Cause you can't be half in and say you're in. You gotta be all in, brother.”

Caleb smiled and dragged his hands from his pockets. He moved forward with a bounce in his step. “I'm saying, I'm
all
in.”

“Aww, Caleb.” Simmons caught the captain in a sudden back-slapping embrace. “I can't believe it, man. You're my
brother
.” He took a step back.

“I'm your brother?”

“Yeah, man. You're my brother from another mother, but now we've got the same Father.”

“What?”

“Oh, I'll explain it to you later. Man, this is awesome.”

Behind Lieutenant Simmons, fire-hose sizes and pressure regulations were written in dry-erase marker on the board, and Caleb thought it was funny how those figures and algebraic equations made more sense to him right now than the dialogue they'd just shared.

But that didn't dampen his spirits. Something had definitely shifted.

“Does Catherine know?” Simmons asked.

“Uh, no. No, I don't think she'd care right now, to tell you the truth. She hasn't been taking too well to this whole ‘love dare' thing.” Caleb propped himself on a chair and folded his arms.

“But you're not done yet, right?”

“No, I'm on Day Twenty-one out of forty. But I'll be honest with you,Michael . . . Up to this point, my heart's not been in it.”

“Hmm. Well, that's what matters. A woman can tell when you're just going through the motions.”

“No kidding. That's absolutely right. So, let me ask you a question: How'd you get off to such a good start with Tina? Why is it so easy for you two?”

“It's not always been easy,” Simmons said. “Marriage takes work. Tina is an incredible wife, but we've learned a lot of lessons the hard way.”

“Well, at least you haven't had to face divorce.”

Simmons turned his gaze toward the floor. He stood and circled the chair, moving away from the captain as though distancing himself from something disturbing. “I wish that were true.”

“What does that mean? You and Tina have been struggling that much?”

“Not me and Tina. But I did with my first wife.”

“What?”
Caleb's eyes darted back over his shoulder, verifying they were on their own in here, then his hands shifted to his hips. “You were married to someone before Tina?”

“For one horrible year. I got married for the wrong reasons, then I turned around and got a divorce for the wrong reasons. Man, I thought I was just following my heart.”

“Michael, I have worked with you for five years. You've never told me that.”

“Because I'm not proud of it, okay? It was before I gave my life to the Lord, and . . . I was only concerned with
my
rights and
my
needs.”He poked himself in the chest with his finger. “I ruined her life. Then, when I gave my life to God, I tried to find her, but she had already remarried. So believe me when I tell you, I've got a big scar.”

Caleb soaked this in, his bewilderment knocked aside by the poignancy in Simmons's words. He'd thought that his friend had the perfect relationship, and yet he, too, had gone through tough times.