I fill a mug and stare into the darkness outside the kitchen window. I can’t help but think of Michelle being back in town.
Fuck, it’s been a long time since I saw her. A long time since I had sex with anyone. And even longer since I was in a relationship with anyone who I thought could live up to what I had with my ex-wife.
My mom’s words come back to me, and I wonder if it would do any good to see her again.
I finish my coffee and get ready to head to the station. I’m not sure why today, of all days, I’m wishing my pops were there to nod at me over his reading glasses, but I feel like I’m literally heading into the fire today.
And I’m not sure I like the feeling.
* * *
The callfor a structure fire comes in close to midnight. The address is a residence in a neighborhood a short distance from the firehouse, which is good news because we know from dispatch there’s a baby on the scene.
We scramble to get into gear and load into the engine, with the lights going but no siren. It’s standard operating procedure if we don’t need to clear traffic to run without sirens after bedtime.
When we reach the location, a woman is standing in the street in front of her house. She’s wrapped in a knee-length bathrobe and is barefoot, cradling a screaming baby against her chest. The minute the crew leaves the engine, the chief greets the homeowner and assesses what he can. Within seconds, he’s calling out orders.
The scene is surprisingly calm, all things considered. The company falls into our rhythm, uncoiling the hose and wrenching the nearby hydrant. Chief calls out that the homeowner is unsure of the origin, reported smoke in the bathroom, and the bathroom fan was on maybe thirty minutes.
Chief’s calling out that there’s no husband, just the woman and baby, who appear upset but unharmed. Everyone’s out. That’s a good start. Even with no reported people or pets inside, we’ll still have to check every room just to make sure.
There have been a few people who’ve locked an unwanted spouse in a closet and tossed in a match, so we can’t just take the homeowner’s word for it when they say the place is empty. Chief sends two vets, Miller and Drinan, on a single attack line while we wait for reinforcements to arrive.
Chief is standing at the back of the ambulance where the homeowner and her baby have been checked out for any signs of exposure to smoke or fumes. They’re wrapped in blankets against the chilly night made even colder by the fact that they were both barefoot from the quick look I got when we pulled up.
The fire was contained to the bathroom and the hallway, and it looked like the fan was most likely the cause. The bathroom fan had a buildup of dust and dirt. Not uncommon at all, but most people don’t realize that the fans should be cleaned.
I feel bad for the woman. Looks like they hadn’t moved in all that long ago. Moving boxes were still stacked in the corners of each room. But the house is so small, very few of her possessions will be salvageable between the smoke and the water.
Only once the cleanup is nearly complete and the chief asks me to escort the homeowner inside do I realize I know the lady. And I know her baby.
“Eden?” I’ve got all my turnout gear in place, so I’m not even sure she can see my face. “It’s Vito. Vito Bianchi.”
Since I’m on the job, I keep my demeanor professional, but inside, my heart is breaking for her. She just moved to town. She’s not even unpacked yet. And now she’s lost everything. She’s literally wearing a blanket.
Eden’s face drops when I say my name. Her lovely face is pale, and she looks like she’s both exhausted and in shock. I’m sure she is both. Even worse, little Juniper is quiet, sound asleep against her mom’s neck. Eden doesn’t look like she wants to move or walk, let alone go into her house.
“Hey,” I say, nodding. “I can take you inside. Let’s get your purse, your cell phone. You’re going to need to stay someplace. Can we call Sassy?”
Eden’s eyes are unblinking, staring at me. She shakes her head slowly.
I take a few steps away from Eden and ask what time it is. The captain calls back that it’s four in the morning. My shift ends in a couple of hours, but she’s not going to be able to sit out here shivering in a blanket until then.
“Eden,” I repeat, putting a gloved hand on her shoulder. Through the blanket, I can feel her trembling. “Listen. I’m going to help you. Let’s get your purse and your phone. Let’s take this one step at a time.”
She’s staring at the house, soft purple shadows under her brown eyes. “What happened?” she asks. “I didn’t…I didn’t leave any candles burning.”
“I know,” I assure her. “This was not your fault at all. We think the bathroom fan overheated. Come on. Let’s go inside and get what we can.”
This part is going to be hard. Most people don’t realize that even a small fire could destroy the contents of the house.
I know from the attack crew that the bathroom had burned, and I mean burned. The flames had been contained to one room, but the smoke, soot, and ash got everywhere. I just hope we can find credit cards, keys, her identification. Hopefully, a pair of shoes that can be salvaged if she’s lucky.
The excitement and adrenaline of the night start wearing off, and I stifle a yawn. I haven’t slept at all this shift, so pretty soon, I’ll have been awake for a full twenty-four. Not ideal, but there are shifts where I can’t catch any rest between calls. Then there are some shifts where the most excitement is whether the chief’s going to bitch because someone put too much pepper in the chili.
“You ready?” I let my hand fall to where I think the small of Eden’s back is beneath the thick protective blanket she’s got wrapped around her like a sheet.
“Is it safe?” She suddenly comes to life and shakes her head. “Wait, Vito…” She looks down at Juniper and shakes her head again. “I don’t want to take her in there. The smoke, there could be toxins…”
