Playing With Fire (21 page)

Matt's father managed a few sips, then slumped back against the pillow as if the effort cost every ounce of strength he possessed. Likely it did, and the thought scared Matt.

He couldn't remember his father ever being sick, much less incapacitated. He was too strong, too energetic, and too darn mean to succumb to even the most virulent virus. Yet less than twelve hours ago, he'd been on the brink of death.

By some twist of fate, he'd escaped the Grim Reaper's clutches. Matt glanced at the monitor again, at the green blip hopping across the screen. He released the breath he'd been holding and set his father's hand down on the bed. The older man wouldn't let go.

"Matt?

"Yeah, Dad. I'm here."

"I wasn't sure,” he said in a raspy voice, his eyes open but not entirely focused. “I've been having some strange dreams. I guess they're dreams. I don't really know."

"You've been through a lot."

"I'm glad you came, son."

"Of course I came."

Everett coughed. Or was it a laugh? “No one would blame you if you didn't. I haven't been much of a dad."

Matt was too floored to respond.

"I don't hear you arguing with me.” Everett's mouth twisted into what could have been a grin.

"Dad..."

"You don't have to say anything. We both know it's the truth.” He shifted slightly, winced and groaned. “Remind me not to move for a week."

"We should go. Let you get some rest.” Matt jumped at the convenient excuse. Their conversation had become too personal, probing old wounds and finding them still tender.

"Stay. Please."

There was a pleading in Everett's eyes. A vulnerability Matt didn't remember seeing before. Had he and his father burned all their bridges? If he left now, he'd never know.

"All right. I'll stay."

Mrs. Callahan smiled her approval. She stroked her husband's forehead. “Try and get some sleep, dear."

"You're fussing, June. I hate when you do that."

Her smile turned radiant. “If you're complaining, you must feel better."

"I feel like roadkill. What the hell did they do to me?"

"Don't ask,” Matt said with an easiness he hadn't felt with his father in years. “You're better off not knowing."

A middle-aged woman in scrubs and a lab coat breezed into the room. She removed a chart from the foot of the bed before introducing herself. “Hello. I'm Dr. Bradley. I don't think we had a chance to meet last night.” She shook hands with Matt and his mother, after which she addressed Everett. “I see you're awake. That's good."

She asked several questions regarding his condition and gave him a brief examination.

"Your last series of tests came back significantly improved. I'm downgrading your condition from critical to guarded. This doesn't mean you're fully out of the woods,” she cautioned when Mrs. Callahan reacted. “Your recovery will be long and require a number of lifestyle changes. But we'll talk more later. For now, I'm ordering complete bedrest. That applies to all of you.” She looked pointedly at Matt and his mother, then back at Everett. “You've been given a second chance, Mr. Callahan. Don't misuse it."

What, Matt wondered as he and his mother left his sleeping father alone, would he do with a second chance if given one?

Get Lindsay back
.

No, not get her back.
Never let her go in the first place
.

He should have stopped her from walking out on him that day in the laundry room at the station. If anything, he should have said something to her yesterday at the Habitat for Humanity house when he had the chance. But ... said what? He'd already apologized. More than once. Declared his love? He'd done that, too, and it made no difference.

Ask her to marry you?

They found Matt's sister in the waiting area. She must have read the expression on their faces for she jumped up from her chair and rushed toward them.

Mrs. Callahan shared the good news, and they hugged. Matt listened with only one ear. The other ear was turned toward the small voice inside his head.

Ask her to marry you.

"Matt? Matt!” His sister jostled his arm. “Hey, Earth to Matt. Are you there?"

"Sorry.” He raked a hand through his hair. “What did you say?"

"Wherever you are, it's a million miles from here."

"No, not a million,” he said, absorbed in thought. “More like a hundred and twenty."

"Huh?” Samantha Callahan looked puzzled.

Suddenly, the answer became clear. “Mom, sis, I've got to go to Phoenix. I'll be back in the morning. No later. I promise I'll call every hour and come back immediately if there's a change in Dad's condition."

"What's wrong?” His mother clutched his arm.

"Don't worry.” He kissed her cheek, then his sister's. “Everything's fine. Wonderful, in fact."

"Matthew,” Mrs. Callahan called after him as he sped down the hall toward the elevators. “I don't understand. Where are you going?"

"To propose,” he hollered back, then broke into a run.

"How long have you been with the department?” Randy asked.

Lindsay looked into the earnest face of the new recruit posing the question. Had she ever been that young? That eager? That inexperienced? She must have at one time, but it seemed so very long ago.

"A little over two years,” she told him, trying to concentrate on their task of inventorying the medical supplies. Thoughts of Matt and his father continually interfered. “How many boxes of gauze pads do you have?"

He counted as he stacked, his lips moving silently. “Eighteen,” he replied and went on to the next item. “When will everyone stop treating me like a rookie?"

"That depends on you.” She didn't think he'd have any trouble fitting in. Other than an annoying tendency to engage others in small talk when their minds were elsewhere, Randy struck her as a nice guy. A hard worker, too, if his performance thus far was an indication.

"Any advice?"

"Gosh, I'm really not the one to ask.” She penciled in a number on the inventory sheet. “The men still hassle me. Probably always will.”
Unless she changed
.

He gave an incredulous shake of his head. “I don't buy that for one minute."

"No?"

"Uh, uh. Not with the way people talk about you."

"Don't believe everything you hear,” she answered flatly. “Some of it's exaggerated.” And some of it wasn't. A lot of it wasn't.

She'd always blamed her trouble at fitting in on her being a woman. In retrospect, she could see it was her defensive attitude—or, more correctly, her offensive attitude. Either way, the results were the same. She might as well have worn a sign taped to her back saying ‘kick me'.

"The way Emilio tells it, you're a hero around here."

The respect in the recruit's voice caught Lindsay off-guard. She turned and found his gaze on her. Admiration shone in his eyes. No, she must be mistaken. Her recent bout of insomnia was impairing her judgment. But when she looked at him again, his expression hadn't changed.

"Really?” Against her will, she found herself smiling. To cover her embarrassment, she pulled out a carton of instant-cold packs. “We'd better get after it. I'm supposed to submit the requisition by this afternoon."

They became quiet after that, working methodically and making progress. The monotony allowed Lindsay's thoughts to return to Matt and his father. She'd left a message with Joey for Matt to call her, though she doubted he would. No matter. She'd phone him again—and again, and again until she reached him. What was it Matt had said that morning at breakfast about their relationship being worth fighting for?

She couldn't agree more.

Emilio stuck his head in the doorway of the supply room. “Lindsay, you got a second?"

"Sure, Captain.” She set the inventory sheet down.

Booter, who'd been napping in the corner, woke up and shook his head, his big ears flopping.

"I won't be long,” she promised Randy before leaving with Emilio. The dog lumbered after them.

"I just received word on the boy's condition from Fire Administration,” Emilio said as they walked through the apparatus room toward his office down the hall on the other side.

"How is he?"

"He's improved. He regained consciousness a few hours ago and despite being in a coma for almost a day, there doesn't appear to be any brain damage."

"That's good to hear. I'm sure his parents are relieved."

"They're very grateful to you, Lindsay. They sent word from the hospital."

"I'm glad I was there. What about the rest of his injuries?"

They reached Emilio's office, and he indicated for Lindsay to take a chair. “He was dehydrated, of course. Leg's busted in a couple places, lots of cuts and bruises nothing that won't eventually heal. They're still running tests, but the doctors are optimistic.” When they were both seated, he laid a newspaper in front of her. “Did you see this? You made the morning paper. Front page of the Metro section."

"Wow.” Lindsay picked up the paper and scanned the pictures of the accident scene. The first photo showed the boy in the stretcher as he was being lifted from the trench into the waiting arms of Rebecca and her crew. The other was a close-up of Lindsay speaking with a city official. She quickly scanned the article before handing the newspaper back to Emilio.

"Go ahead and keep it."

"Thanks."

"I want you to know, I plan on nominating you for Firefighter of the Year."

It took several seconds for what he said to penetrate. “You're what?"

He grinned. “You heard me."

"But why?” The award, which recognized performance above and beyond the call of duty, was the most prestigious one a firefighter could earn. She'd done nothing remotely deserving of such an honor.

"You have to ask after last night?"

"Any firefighter would have done the same thing in my place."

"Hopefully so. But you were the one there. You investigated the construction site, made the call, and administered emergency medical care until help arrived. If not for you, that boy might have died."

"Booter's the one who really found him.” At the sound of his name, the dog raised his head and cocked his ears.

"Who decided the dog might be onto something and let him explore?"

"I did, but—"

He didn't let her finish. “You followed your instincts and it paid off. That's what separates the rookies from the veterans."

"But Firefighter of the Year? Why not just a write up in my personnel file?"

"The battalion chief is preparing a written commendation as we speak."

"What about what happened with Dennis? Won't that affect my chances?"

"It might.” He scratched his chin with the pad of his thumb. “One never knows what the judging committee will take into account. But I'd say after this,” he pointed to the newspaper in front of her, “the episode with Dennis will fade into history."

"I don't know what to say."

"How about, I'll miss you, Emilio. I'm going to hate like hell leaving this place."

Lindsay sat bolt upright and gripped the edge of his desk. “Am I ... am I..."

His wide grin accentuated the laugh lines in his darkly tanned face. “I just received the email. Your promotion came through. Congratulations, Lindsay. You made the paper and engineer all in one day."

She'd done it! She was officially Engineer Lindsay Pfeiffer. Joy bubbled up inside her, followed immediately by a twinge of sorrow. “Where am I going?"

"Don't know. I suspect you'll get a phone call today sometime."

A small lump formed in the back of her throat. “All joking aside, I am going to miss this place. You've been awfully good to me."

His features softened. “Gonna miss you too, kiddo."

It amazed her how quickly things had turned around. A week ago, she wouldn't have given two cents for her career. Then, in a single day, she'd been nominated for Firefighter of the Year, received a written commendation from the battalion chief, and been promoted to engineer.

Were it not for Matt, she'd be dancing in the streets.

If only he'd call.

She'd give anything to hear his voice. But it was Emilio's who disturbed her reverie.

"Matt's promotion also came through."

"It did?” The news cheered Lindsay. The whole Dennis fiasco was truly behind them.

"Now you two can date openly.” Emilio's mustache twitched with contained mirth. “You don't have to sneak around anymore."

Lindsay sank back into the chair. Matt had been right about their captain. “You know."

"Everybody knows."

Maybe it wasn't that widespread. “Define everybody."

"From the highest ranking official to the newest recruit. Even Randy knows, and I never mentioned it to him."

She dropped her head into her waiting hand. It
was
that widespread.

"Come on, Lindsay. Don't tell me you're surprised. The department is a regular Mayberry RFD when it comes to gossip."

"I hate to break it to you, Emilio, but your sources are wrong.” She lifted her head. “Matt and I were dating, were, as in the past. We broke up a few days ago."

"I'm sorry. I'd hoped you'd make a go of it.” He appeared genuinely distressed.

"Yeah, me too."

"Any chance you might work out your differences?"

"Possibly.”
If he'd just call
. “I want to."

"What are you waiting for then?” He winked. “Go for it, girl."

"I can't,” she said somberly, unable to muster the same enthusiasm as Emilio. “He's in Tucson. His father had a heart attack."

"How serious?"

"I don't know yet. I'm hoping Matt will call soon.”
Hoping with every breath I take
.

"I'm sure everything will be okay. But if you need anything, just give a holler."

"Thanks."

Lindsay returned to the supply room, but her mind wasn't on the inventory, nor was her heart in it. Preferring to be alone for a while, she sent Randy away to start on the engine's supplies. That might have been a mistake. Without any distractions, all she could think of was Matt. The inventory sheet lay untouched where she'd left it.

Call. Call. Call.