Page 49 of Hearts on the Mend

I’m moving before I can think better of it. I rush to the bathroom and get cleaned up, thankful for the training pack stashed in my truck by Sean and Devin when they drove it out for me. The rest of my gear is on base, so this will have to do.

When I show up at the school twenty minutes later, the receptionist is more than a little surprised.

“Here for Career Day,” I announce. The school smells like buttered popcorn and disinfectant, and there’s an eerie quiet today in the halls, unlike the first time I came to pick up Ruby.

She taps the glass of the window, pointing toward the large sign and clipboard. “Sign in, please.” She passes me a visitor’s sticker through the window. “Everyone is in the auditorium. You’re late.”

There’s a line of parents standing on the side of the auditorium, preparing to give a speech to the school about their occupations. I can’t find Cassie, so I wait until it’s my turn.

A teacher greets me at the stairs. “Hi, who are you here with?”

I scratch my jaw, peeking over to the seats, my gaze landing on Ruby, who spots me and beams, waving so aggressively she might dislocate her elbow. “Ruby Whitman.”

“And you are?”

“Nolan Murphy. Here to talk about being a smoke jumper.”

The older woman pauses with a pen on her clipboard. “I have Matt Whitman down as Ruby’s guest.”

“Couldn’t make it,” I say, winking at Ruby.

The teacher narrows her eyes at me before flagging Ruby over. “I have someone else down to speak with you today, Ruby.”

“My daddy isn’t here. But I know Nolan. He’s a firefighter too. He even jumps out of planes.”

“It’ll be your turn in just a moment. Thank you for coming, Mr. Murphy.”

We’re called up on stage a few minutes later, and I’m met with a packed auditorium. I clear my throat, the bright lights blinding me.

Ruby tugs on my hand, dragging me down to her level. “There’s a lot of people here. I’m scared.”

“Yeah, there are. How about this? Let’s do it scared together, Rue.”

She wrinkles her nose before she breaks out into a smile. God, I swear my chest cracks open at the sight of it and the hopeful light in her big green eyes. I don’t know why Matt can’t get out of his own way and realize that he has an amazing daughter, but I can do this for her. It doesn’t have to mean anything to her or Cassie. I can show her what it means to be a good friend.

“This is Nolan,” Ruby announces next to me into the microphone. She stands on her tippy toes. She has a smudge of SunButter by her mouth, probably from the SunButter and jelly crackers that Cassie packed her for lunch today. “He’s my friend, and he’s a firefighter like my daddy.”

I don’t want to be here, and yet it’s the only place I need to be. I force a smile, clear my throat, and address the room. “Does anyone know what a smoke jumper is?”

Cassie is in the back, pressed against the wall, her phone clutched to her chest.

I pick up my gear and slowly begin unpacking everything, explaining my job.

Ruby stands beside me, her green eyes wide and happy just like her mother’s. I’d do this every day if it meant seeing her smile. When she reaches out and grabs my hand again, I need to fight off the tickle in my throat. Or maybe there’s just something in my eye. I still can’t stop catching peeks at Cassie in the back, how she keeps wiping at her face and smiling when Ruby glances her way.

Ruby helps me pack everything away when I’m finished, then we’re escorted off the stage as an orthodontist is brought on to speak.

I wait out the rest of the parents, weaving my way to the back with Cassie once the students are dismissed slowly to return to their classrooms.

Cassie leans against the wall, her arms folded against her chest. “What did you do that for?”

There’re a lot of reasons, and I don’t really want to get into them with her right now. I don’t think she’s interested in hearing them, and honestly, I’m just as confused. I don’t think I’m doing any of this right, but I know I had to show up because they needed me today, and I could.

“I haven’t left yet,” I say. “Thought it would help.”

I’ve missed so many holidays, birthdays, hell, even Annie’s high school and college graduations. Fire season keeps dragging out longer and longer with drier, hotter summers. What used to be six months is now almost eight months some years. We’re understaffed, forestry services are being cut, and public lands are under attack.

She pushes her lips together and blinks off the tears in her eyes. “This has nothing to do with you leaving.”