“Yep. We’ll have a new bunch starting their training in March. The season usually starts ramping up by May, and our training program lasts five weeks.”
“How soon would you need an answer?” Sammy tightened his grip on the phone.
“The field is usually pretty competitive, but we seem to be in a lull year. I’d like to hear a yes or no by mid-February. I can’t hold the job for you, not even as an old friend.”
Sammy scrubbed a hand down his face. “No, I’m sure not. I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“Do you mind if I ask you a few questions? Kind of a preliminary interview?” Sammy could hear papers rustling on the other end of the line.
“Sure, that’s fine by me.”
“Seth did give me a sketchy outline on your story since the last time we saw each other. I know you played football in high school. Seth said you did a short stint in the Army. Lumberjack for a while. Am I on the right track?”
“Yes. That’s the outline.”
“Gotcha. Okay, would you say you are still physically fit?”
Hoo boy. That hit below the belt. “Did Seth tell you about the accident?”
“He mentioned that you no longer work for him because you heroically pulled some people out of a car at great cost to yourself.”
There was thatheroword again. People couldn’t seem to let it go. He was no hero. “Yes. My lumber semitrailer jackknifed around a car. The car had braked suddenly to avoid hitting a deer, then I tried to stop behind it.” He heard again the screech of tires, felt the pull of the wheel in his grip. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I was able to get out of my truck and helped a mom and her son get out of the car. And that’s when the chains holding the lumber snapped.” His breathing quickened. “I…I was trapped under one of the logs.”
“Mm-hmm.” A scratching sound came from the other end of the line. Sammy imagined Tucker drawing a bigNo, thank youacross his paper. “This was a few years ago, right?”
“Almost a year and a half.”
“How are you feeling now?”
There was no way Sammy would admit to feeling fear or mention the nightmares he sometimes woke up from. And he would be able to get behind the wheel of a car by March, right? “Stronger, for sure. I’m back to my high-school weight.” He hoped the wry humor translated through the phone lines.
“Physical therapy?”
It was phrased as a question, but Sammy was immediately transported back to the room that smelled of sweat and disinfectant, the voice of his physical therapist telling him “Just one more minute. You can do anything for a minute.” He swallowed. Pushed back the memory of the pain.
“I completed my PT. The doc signed off several months ago.”
“Okay. So you can carry gear of up to a hundred and fifteen pounds, learn how to jump out of a helicopter, and are confident in your ability to use your legs?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? Could he trust himself?
Maybe it was time to try. “Yes.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’m still concerned about the strength in your legs and your ability to trust them. My team has to be able to rely on each other for their lives.” Tucker paused, and Sammy could hear the second hand ticking on the clock. Then Tucker broke the silence. “But I’m going to give you the chance to prove yourself. I’ll send you the forms you’ll need to fill out. The application, a doctor’s waiver, stuff like that. I trust Seth’s judgment, and Seth trusts you. That goes a long way. Think it over. Talk to Seth. Then send in your application. Let’s get you on the team.”
Wait. Tucker still wanted him?
Even after his injuries, someone still trusted him? Maybe it really was time to trust himself.
“Thank you, Tucker.”
“I’m not making any promises. That injury of yours could be a deal breaker. But if your doc says you’re ready, I’ll give you a shot.”
Okay, so not the vote of confidence he’d hoped for, but it was something.
Sammy hung up the phone and immediately dialed Seth. “I just got off the phone with Tucker Newman.”
“And?”
