“You know it, Shugs,” Hallie says.
We give it a second go, and this time we get Cletus up and then we right the chair. I put the side table back exactly where Cletus' late wife had it all these years.
“Is that right?” I ask him.
He eyes it. “Yeah. That’s how she liked it.”
We share a look, and then I tell Hallie, “We’re good here.”
She and I head for the door. Dustin’s right behind us.
“You might consider a second chair,” Dustin says as we’re leaving. “Keep that one, but maybe splurge on another.”
“Why?” Cletus asks. “You comin’ over for a visit?”
“I just might,” Dustin says.
“You come by and we’ll talk about it,” Cletus says.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” Dustin answers him. Then he adds, “See ya, Shugs.”
And this time, Cletus doesn’t correct him.
The rest of our shift we don’t have a single call. I sequester myself in my bunk before going to sleep, pulling up the FEMA email on my laptop. I read through everything. It’s a basic invitation to apply.
Before I can second-guess myself, I complete the application and click submit.
I’m not like Hallie. Her life is intertwined with her family and daughter. Her choice of career has to work alongside her relationships and responsibilities. I can apply for a job anywhere in the world. FEMA will give me a way to serve more people. Instead of senior strip poker and men tipping their recliners, I’ll be helping people who lost their homes in a hurricane—doing real good on a far larger scale.
Zach would be proud of me taking this position. He always teased me about my protective streak, but in our quieter moments he told me how much he admired my sense of duty and willingness to serve.
Anyway, it’s just an application. I’m not taking the job. They might not even call me in as a candidate for interviews. Just because Lieutenant Colonel Stymes reached out doesn’t mean the position’s mine.
I’d be crazy not to pursue the opportunity.
Chapter 13
Greyson
You know me … I can't resist a good prank.
~ Justin Bieber
Hallie seems to be getting the hang of equipment checks. This morning she’s methodically running through her checklist, focused and all business. I’m watching her closely, but trying not to be obvious. I keep picturing her in the bleachers at practice—the way she lit up when Mia practically hit the ball out of the field.
Hallie gets to the step where she’s going to check the radios.
They basically always work, but since they’re such a critical part of our work when we’re on a call, we check them daily.
We insisted on each holding a radio today. Normally, she’d stack them all and run through checks from her pile. Dustin told her we’re testing for clarity or transmission at a distance.Something like that. I couldn’t look at her when he explained the sudden change of routine.
She just shrugged and went along with it.
The three of us are standing by the turnout lockers across the bay from her. Cody’s in the office, but he’s got a radio too.
I watch as Hallie makes sure her radio is powered on, the battery is properly seated and charged, and the unit is set to the correct channel. She appears to adjust the volume to an audible level. Then she presses the push-to-talk button and waits a beat so the transmission doesn’t clip.
“Engine One, radio check.” We can hear her voice from across the bay, but nothing comes through the radios.
