It Had To Be You (3 page)

He gave a small smile. “Yeah, sure.”

They walked side by side to the elevator,
stood silently inside until they reached the foyer. Under the
florescent lamps, she looked up at him. His eyes were a color green
she’d only seen on people wearing contacts.

“
They’re real,” he said
sardonically.

“
Excuse me?”

“
The color of my eyes. No contacts.
Everybody asks.”

She wanted to say how beautiful they were but
figured the remark was inappropriate. “Thanks for what you
did.”

“
You got no business being
embarrassed.”

“
Still, I appreciate you taking
charge.”

“
Can’t seem to get over
that.”

She gave him a smile. “Must be hard being the
rookie on a squad, then.”

His expression was questioning.

“
I see firefighters all the time at the
ER. Let’s just say
one-upmanship
is a kind way to describe
them.”

Now a full-bodied laugh escaped him. It was a
rusty sound. “I get you there. And I bet they flirt like hell.”

She could feel the flush creep up her neck.
“Nah, they call me ma’am, too.”

“
I highly doubt that.” His gaze
darkened. “I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through.”

They locked gazes for a moment. Something
subtle, an all-male scent, drifted over to her.

Then he said, “I gave Len my cell number.
Maybe I can help him.”

“
That was sweet of you.”

Huh!
“I don’t know as though anybody
has ever called me sweet. Certainly not the soldiers under my
command.”

Reaching out, she squeezed his arm. “Well,
you are, Beck. Thanks again. Good night.”

He didn’t accompany Lela to her car and she
was glad. She’d had a strange reaction to him. She didn’t examine
it too closely, because for a long time, she’d wanted any reaction
to any man to be nonexistent.

o0o

Len bolted up in bed. What the hell? It was
dark in the barracks. Quiet. He grasped on to the mattress. The
thing was too thick. When the clock’s lighted dial winked out three
a.m., he realized he wasn’t in Afghanistan. But it took him a
minute to get that he was back in the States, in the house where he
grew up. Fuck!

Sliding out of bed, he stumbled to the
bathroom down the hall, hoping like hell he didn’t wake up his
mother and father. He’d already put them through hell, and besides,
they’d only rag on him about his drinking. He took a piss, brushed
teeth that felt like he’d eaten camel dung, and splashed cold water
on his face. But when he looked in the mirror, he cringed. Not
because his hair was shaggy, a beard roughened his jaw, or his eyes
were the color of cherries. He remembered what he’d done
tonight.

Poor Lela. He’d hurt her enough. To barge
into the Fire Academy and make a scene had embarrassed her. He
could still see the shame on her face. The colonel had to drag him
out. Jesus.

Once he got back into his room, Len lay down
and listened to the sounds of crickets drift in through the open
window. When the world stopped spinning, he did what he always
did—he made a list in his head of what he needed to do to get
better. Go to therapy. Maybe with that Harrison guy who didn’t seem
like too much of a dick. His mother had also given him AA
pamphlets. He’d been to a few meetings before, and a lot of the
guys were like him. Vets. Drunks. Bums.

Yeah. He’d do that tomorrow.

But when the dial on the clock clicked to 4
a.m. and then to 5 a.m., the demons came and ate up all his
promises.

You’re a worthless piece of shit. You never
deserved her. She didn’t know you bought black market liquor and
how much of it you drank over there or when you got back. Go have
some more. You don’t deserve any better.

As always, he listened to the voices in his
head. He slid off the bed, and this time went to his top dresser
drawer. Out of which, he pulled a pint of vodka.

He gulped a swig back. And another. The taste
was tart and cool. By the time the last drop touched his lips, the
demons were gone.

Rescue 7, Group 3 gathered at the scarred oak
table in the kitchen of their firehouse. Jenn Malvaso was sitting
with them. She was pretty with dark hair and eyes like her
brothers. Like Gabe. He’d heard she’d decided to take a year off
from firefighting after she’d had twins a few months ago.

“
So that’s about it. We’ve almost
filled the slots at Hale’s Haven’s big camp. But we’re gonna need
some volunteers for the junior camp we’re opening this year for
four-to-seven-year-olds.” She stood. “Think about it.”

Hale’s Haven was a camp for kids of slain
firefighters and police officers and was built, run and fully
staffed by the fire and police departments of Hidden Cove and
surrounding areas. It was held for two weeks in the summer at their
property on the lake. Jenn had been in charge of running the very
worthy cause since their opening, but rumor had it, she wanted back
on the line. Beck had heard about the camp when he first started in
the fire department, and knew that most of his colleagues on his
crew worked there at some point during the summer.

“
We’ll spread the word, cuz,” Gabe
promised her with a hug when she started to leave.

Zach approached them. “Come on, sis, I’ll
walk you out.”

“
No, you won’t. You’ll just try to talk
me out of going back on the line. It’s not fair you guys are
ganging up on me like this!”

The grapevine also contended that none of her
brothers wanted her back in action.

“
Hush. Let’s go.”

The Quint and Midi members, who were also
housed at Station 7, headed outside, too, so that left the five
members of the Rescue Squad at the table. As Beck looked around,
taking in the gleaming appliances, the spic-and-span floor, the
Windex-proud windows, he noted that the place itself was as perky
as every single one of his group. Jesus, the department had
nicknamed this particular shift Happyland. Though Beck appreciated
being picked for the squad everybody wanted on, sometimes their
sheer joy in life drove him nuts.

“
What’s the matter, Beck? You’re
scowling.” This came from Brody O’Malley, a paramedic and
all-around nice guy—if somewhat cocky. Beck had met his brother,
Ryan, a cop, and liked him, too.

“
Somebody’s gotta counteract all the
bliss in the air.” His words bore no ill will, though, in tone or
intent.

“
We know.”

Beck glanced over to see the battalion chief,
Cal Erikson, had come into the room and now poured coffee from a
big urn. Sometimes, when coffee burned, its scent triggered a PTSD
attack in a sufferer. Thankfully, the smell didn’t have that effect
on Beck, but he knew it was one of Zach Malvaso’s triggers.

“
We decided everybody’s just jealous of
our
bliss
and laugh at them.” The BC sipped from his mug and
took a bead on Beck. “You jealous, Beck?”

“
Yep.” Hell, why had he said that? He
was trying to keep his personal life out of the firehouse, but
these guys seemed to share everything and Beck fell into it
sometimes.

The other group members shifted
uncomfortably, then Gabe said, “You’re divorced, aren’t you?”

“
Uh-huh.”

“
How long?” White asked.

“
A year.”

“
Got kids?”

That did make him smile. “One boy, ten. He’s
a great kid.” But Tommy was getting in trouble at school these
days—especially since Beck had left the house.

Sydney Sands, a top-notch firefighter whose
pulled-back hair and absence of makeup didn’t detract from her
attractiveness at all, seemed to be the most sensitive one. She
said, “I think it’s time to baptize Beck into the Joke Jar.”

He rolled his eyes. The Joke Jar was
established by the captain years ago. Each of them brought in
firefighter jokes—White said they were stupid and sexist—and the
group read them when they were down or bored. If you could guess
who put the one read into the jar, you won a money pot. He’d heard
the only time they’d
never
used it was after 9/11, when
things in the fire departments around the country were pretty
bleak.

Crossing to the jar, Sands picked the
decorated jug up and brought it to the table. She shot a glance at
Brody and he winked at her. Something else was going on here.

“
We’re going to skip the guessing and
winning part and just read some.” Her dark eyes twinkled with
mischief. “For you, Beck.”

He knew he was in for it now. And was glad.
The guys hadn’t hazed him like they usually did probies. Hell, they
probably thought he was too old for that. “I can’t wait.”

Sands began to read:

Q: What’s the national bird of Iraq?

A: DUCK!

Stupid. But cute.

Q: What’s the fastest way to break up a bingo
game in Baghdad?

A: You shout out, “B-52.”

Now he did laugh.

Q: What’s the classic Iraqi Air Force
motto?

A: I came. I saw. Iran.

“
Hey, they aren’t bad,” Beck quipped,
playing along. I heard your firefighter ones are
pitiful.”

Several hours later, the house firefighters
were no longer joking when the PA sounded at 4 a.m. Beck awoke with
the others to hear, “Car accident at Pine and Browncroft. Rescue 7,
Quint/Midi 7, go into service.”

The five of them jumped out of bed, dressed
in their uniform pants, as they wore T-shirts and shorts to bed,
and hurried to the bay. When they reached the big garages, they
donned their bulky turnout pants and boots, which were set up like
little soldiers on the concrete floor, ready to go into action.
Then they climbed onto the truck. As the rig sped to the scene,
Beck’s heartbeat escalated like it had before his unit stormed an
enemy outpost. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. White,
next to him, looked over. “You okay, Beck?”

“
Yep, just preparing for
battle.”

She gave him a knowing smile.

The scene when they arrived was not what he’d
expected. He saw through the rig’s window two people lying on the
ground. Gabe jumped off the truck first and headed to Incident
Command; the others demounted amidst the noise of the rigs present
and the smell of exhaust. They started to pull out equipment. He’d
learned fast nobody went into a fire empty-handed. Gabe spoke with
the commander—not Erikson but the legendary Mitch Malvaso.

Their captain jogged back over. “An SUV was
hit by a sports car. The man driving the former is sore, and his
companion has a concussion, but the other driver is trapped. The
Quint will get the guy out, but we have another situation. The
ambulance has just the driver on scene because the other medics are
at a bad fire out near the lake. One of us has to go in the
ambulance, and another has to drive the midi over to the hospital.
Zach, you’re in the ambulance.” He scanned the group. “Beck, you
take the midi over to pick up Zach and help with the patient once
you get there. It’ll be good experience.”

“
Sure.” He liked new experiences. They
kept him on his toes. And from thinking about the bodies around
him. And other bodies that he’d seen too many of.

The front end of the blue Corvette looked
like an accordion; the roof had also imploded. Quint 7 guys had
already set up equipment, and the Hurst tools gleamed in the light
from the huge halogen lamp already in place. A generator rent the
air, buzzing and teeth-rattling.

Beck felt himself tense. Loud sounds affected
veterans. But he focused on Casey Malvaso, who jumped onto the hood
of the car and grabbed the Jaws of Life. She was poetry in motion
and cut through the metal like butter. Again, his teeth hurt at the
screeching sound. Holmes, from the Quint, joined her; someone
handed up a backboard. In no time, they had the collar on the
victim, slid him onto a board, jumped off the car and headed toward
the Midi. Beck and Zach followed them.

When the group reached the ambulance, Zach
said, “Thanks, babe.” Then he gave her a peck on the cheek.

The woman’s slate blue eyes snapped with
frustration. “How many times do I have to tell you not to do that
at work?”

Before he climbed into the ambulance, Zach
quipped, “God, I love to do that to her.”

As Beck headed to the Midi, he just shook his
head. The whole damn house was on cloud nine. And as he’d told
Gabe, he was jealous of all their relationships.

o0o

With her waist-length, black hair and
sparkling dark eyes, Sophia Ramirez was one of the most beautiful
women Lela had ever met. She’d had a baby girl five months ago and
just this week had returned to work at Memorial part-time. Lela had
missed her when she’d been on maternity leave. Lela had no
siblings, but had been close to the other women in theater. Now,
she had only a few friends, mostly from work, and Sophia was the
one she spent the most time with.

Sophia asked, “So, did you go to the support
group?”

Lela sipped her strong coffee, much needed
after a night shift, which would end in an hour. “Uh-huh.”

“
How was it? I adore Jack Harrison, so
I’d be surprised if he wasn’t great with you.”

“
He was, but Len showed up at the Fire
Academy.”

Sophia’s brows raised. Months ago she’d
noticed Lela’s bruises and wormed out of her the entire, sordid
story of the effects of Len’s PTSD. After Lela described his
behavior the night before, Sophia sighed. “That won’t make you stop
going, will it?”

“
No.”