“It’s fine. Go rest now. We want you back on the job. Morgan’s cooking is terrible.”
“Good to be wanted,” I quipped and ended the call. Sitting on the sofa, I took a deep breath then blew it out. Worry began to creep in as I stared at the tennis ball lying beside a pair of Chip’s sneakers. Had I done enough to keep things professional? Should I have pushed back harder against my feelings? Would my actions find me guilty of unprofessional conduct? What would my father think of his eldest son being suspended or worse for an ethics breach?
“Dane, honey, everything okay?” Mom called. Shaking off the monkey of trepidation hanging off my neck, I stood.
“Yep, it’s all good, Mom.”
Whether it would be or not was something out of my control for now, so I did my best to quash it as Rabbi Eli would surely advise. Chip and I would face things tomorrow together. Just as I hoped we would for the rest of our lives.
We weretwenty minutes early for our hearing.
Chip was edgy already. His eyes locked on Sable as she leaned into his vibrating leg. Seating outside the city council chambers consisted of two long wooden benches.
“There are forty-five steps we climbed.” His hand rested on Sable. “Forty-five steps from the ground floor. Forty-five steps up. Then forty-five down. Marble. All marble. Forty-five marble steps.”
“That’s a lot of steps,” I replied. My nerves were showing now despite my best attempts to keep them in check. Not just for me but for Chip. He’d pick up on that I was worried, which would only make him more upset. “We can take the elevator down if you want.”
“No, I would rather count the steps going down. This building is old. Old buildings are interesting. There’s a preservation society here in town that has an annex filled with photographs of old buildings in the area. A woman there once took me on a tour. She explained that historic buildings serve as reminders of a city’s culture. They show off the town’s complexity. From the most recognizable landmarks to unknown gems, the history and heart of a city can be?—”
The large wooden door across from us opened. Sully exited. He looked calm, which helped ease my growing anxiety a little.
“They asked me to send Dane in next,” Sully said, his suit and tie still tidy. I wished mine were, too. I’d been unable to stop fussing with the tie bar that bore my engine company number since I’d arrived here.
“Not me as well?” Chip’s green eyes rounded and he glanced at me. “We’re not going to go in together?”
“Guess not. It’s fine, though, babe. Just a few questions, then we’re out of here. We’re going to stop for stromboli at that place across from the arena.”
“I’ll stay with Dane while we wait. Maybe we can go find the coffee shop. I smelled it when I came in.” Sully smiled down at Chip.
“That sounds great. See if you can help the chief find some coffee and a tart. Cherry, please,” I joked. Chip was not impressed, but he did rise and join Sully. I could hear him telling Sully how many stairs there were. I exhaled, ran my hands over my hair, and pushed into the chamber. The walls were dark wood. Three people were seated at a long table. Two I knew, one I had never seen before.
“Firefighter Rourke, please have a seat. We’ll make this as quick as we can. Just a few questions for you to answer, then Mr. Cornish will give his testimony,” Deputy Chief Kirk said, his smile not lessening my growing anxiety. The woman from HR was giving off some very complex vibes. Still, I sat at the end of the table to face them.
“Before we start, I’d like to extend the thanks of the RFD for your quick thinking during that call when you were injured. Your shout saved several of our best firefighters as well as a duo of plumbers working on a leaky sink in a print shop. They relayed that your bellow gave them enough time to jump back inside and hit the floor. You’re a hero in my eyes, Firefighter Rourke,” Kirk said.
Relief over the safety of the plumbers washed over me. “Thank you, Deputy Chief. Just doing my job to the best of my ability. Any other man or woman at the scene would have done the same.”
Fire Chief Biggens nodded silently as did the woman from HR, so yay.
“So, if you’d like to get started?” Kirk asked. I nodded gently. “If you could, would you please relate to us the exact incidents of the call for a structure fire at Cornish Iron and how your first interaction with the owner, Russell Cornish, transpired?”
So, I replied to the best of my ability to recall every little fact of that day. And the days that followed. The panel was polite, distant, but professional. None of the three attacked me or made me feel out of place for being gay. The questions were centered around Chip and my actions about him. When we were nearing what I hoped was the end, the woman from HR, Meghan Wyzinski, according to her name placard, hit me with a doozy.
“Do you feel that you have acted in accordance with the fire department’s policies regarding interpersonal relationships with civilians who have been traumatized?” Her voice was nasally but precise.
“I do, ma’am.” I found that I could reply earnestly. Finally.
“Very well. Thank you, Firefighter Rourke. Would you please send in Mr. Cornish?” she asked with cool indifference. I nodded, rose, and exited the stuffy chamber. Chip shot to his feet, Sable tight to his side.
“You’re next,” I whispered after letting the door close. Several people hustled past chatting to themselves. Sully had some coffee in a tan takeout cup, and Chip held Sable’s lead. “They’re nice. Just answer honestly. I love you.”
“You’ve said that a dozen times this morning.”
“Then that was a baker’s dozen,” I softly replied.
“Okay. Thirteen is a lucky number for me.”
He entered the chamber with his chin up and his dog at his side. I turned to Sully watching us. He offered me a second cup that was sitting beside him on the bench. I gladly took it. Not that I needed a jolt of caffeine. I was already wired. I just needed something to do with my hands while Chip was giving his testimony.
