Gabe took Misty’s hand and kissed it. “We are too.”
“So, what would you like to know about being a muse?”
Misty shrugged. “I don’t even know the questions to ask. I guess first I want to know if you like it? If you’re good at it? If you wish you’d never accepted the job? That sort of thing.”
Kristine laughed. “First”—she used her fingers to count off her answers to Misty’s questions—“I like it very much. Second, I think I’m pretty good at it. And third, I’d do it again.”
“That’s encouraging,” Misty responded. “How long did it take you to learn what to do?”
Kristine tipped her head in thought. “I’m not sure. My training was only about a week or so. But I still have questions—or just need encouragement, and I can talk to my trainer whenever something comes up.”
“Who’s your trainer?”
Kristine chuckled. “I have one of the original muses—Melpomene. The muse of tragedy. Not the most cheery individual, not that it matters much. All she taught me was how to use my powers. The rest is up to me.”
“And you’re the muse of wireless communication?” Gabe asked.
“Pretty much. Mother Nature noticed I was pretty comfortable using my own cell phone and the fire departments’ radios. But sometimes I get a distress call involving a device I’m not familiar with, like a ham radio or satellite.”
“What do you do then?” Misty asked.
Kristine shrugged. “I do my best. It’s not up to me to fix devices that don’t work, but sometimes I have to tell the more clueless individuals how to use them.”
“But how do you tell a ham radio operator how to use his radio if you don’t know yourself?”
“That’s when I produce a manual and whisper into the person’s ear something like ‘RTFM.’”
Gabe laughed. Misty looked confused, so he translated. “RTFM means ‘read the fucking manual.’”
She giggled. “Oh. So, it sounds like you can have a bit of fun, as long as there’s no life-and-death stuff involved, right?”
Kristine’s expression saddened, and she placed a hand on Misty’s shoulder. “I don’t envy you the job you’re being offered. Forgive me for saying it this way, but you’re young. You may not realize that you can’t always save people—especially from themselves. But by being there, you might be able to make a difference. In other words, you won’t win them all. That’s my only concern about you taking this job.”
Gabe hadn’t even thought of that. He was used to life-and-death situations. Misty wasn’t.
“But Mother Nature thought I could do the job. She must be right, right?”
“I don’t doubt you can do the job,” Kristine said. “In fact, I think you’d be really good at it. I just wanted to be honest and let you know you might not always succeed.”
Gabe’s concern grew as he took in Misty’s face. “If seeing children abused is going to make you too depressed, I want you to say so.” She gazed at him with her bright blue eyes. She looked so innocent, and he would hate to see that wide-eyed innocence die.
“Of course that would make me sad, but if I could make a difference with just one child… Well, I can’t imagine anything more fulfilling. I mean, I’m sure raising our own children will be fulfilling enough, but to know my influence is helping others, perhaps hundreds or thousands of others…it seems worth a little sadness.” She glanced between Gabe and Kristine a couple of times. “How do you do it? You’re both firefighters. You both see terrible things. How do you cope?”
“There’s really no one answer to that.”
“I guess it’s an individual thing.” Gabe put his arm around her shoulder. “For me, it’s knowing I’m doing something worthwhile that not everyone can do. Now that I have you and little whosie-whatsit here,” he said, tapping her on the stomach, “I have even more reason for doing what I do and not letting it get to me.”
“But that’s just it. How do you not let it get to you?”
Kristine stepped in, thank goodness. “Some of the guys blow off steam in different ways. On the job, they have each other for support. Off the job, they have hobbies or sports or any number of distractions. Vacations are important too.”
Gabe realized Misty’s support system might need some beefing up. She couldn’t just come home from a job taking care of the world’s children and return to taking care of her own children without having someone to talk to about it.
“How long does Misty have to decide? Did Mother Nature give you a deadline?” Kristine asked.
“Not that we know of. Does she usually do that?” Gabe asked.
Kristine smirked. “She’s not the most patient person, by her own admission, but she’s pretty understanding. I imagine she knows it’s important to think long and hard about this.”
