For a tenth of a second, my mind scrambles for the best way forward. None of the firemen will go back in until Chip gives the go-ahead. I’m sure as hell not letting Laney go back in there. But I couldn’t live with myself if this heartbreak, this utter devastation was the last thing I saw on her beautiful face.
That means there’s only one thing I can do. One thing I can do for Laney. For once in my life, I can help and not hurt someone that I love. For once in my life, I’ll prove my father wrong. Even if it kills me. Even if it means giving up my life for the two people in hers that I dislike the most.
It’s for Laney. And that’s all that matters.
Before anyone can stop me, and without another word, I turn and run back into the flames in search of Laney’s loved ones.
THIRTY-FIVE: Laney
“Nooo!”
The word is ringing so loudly in my ears, I hear nothing else. Pain is resonating in my chest so deeply, I feel nothing else.
I know that there are arms wrapped around me. I know that someone is preventing me from going after Jake, from stopping him. From saving him.
I didn’t want for him to risk his life for theirs. I simply wanted him to let me go, let me make the choice, make the sacrifice if it had to be made.
But not Jake.
Never Jake.
A burn more devastating than ten fiery buildings is consuming my heart as I watch the very spot where I saw him disappear into the flames. My entire being, my entire world is focused on that one sliver like my life depends on what comes back out.
Because it does.
I won’t be able to live with myself if Jake doesn’t come back out. I won’t be able to survive the rest of my days without him. And knowing that he died to save the people I love . . .
I crumble inside the arms that restrain me, my legs no longer strong enough to support me. I hear someone screaming Jake’s name in the distance. The voice sounds like mine, but it can’t be. It can’t be me. I can’t move. I can’t speak. I can’t even think past the mind-numbing panic that’s coursing through my body, through my soul. All I can do is stare, stare at the place where I saw him last and wait . . .
It seems an eternity has passed when I see movement. My lungs cease to expand, my heart ceases to beat until I see the clear form of Jake cutting through the haze. My relief is more profound than any emotion I’ve ever experienced.
Until he lays down his human cargo and turns to go back inside.
The arms that held me suddenly disappear, and I see people rush to the man lying prone on the ground. After a few seconds, I see my mother come into my view, falling to her knees beside the person just sitting up. It’s my father. I squeeze my eyes shut over my tears when I see him wrap one arm around her shoulders and lean into her.
But then an even more painful realization slices through me. Jake went back in.
To get Shane.
He’s risking his life for a man like Shane. Because he thinks it matters to me.
The tears come freely now, and without end. I sit on the ground, surrounded by hurt people and emergency workers and stretches of hose, and my heart melts right inside my chest.
“Please God, please God, please God!” is all I can make out. Over and over and over again. Every nerve, every cell, every bit of light that I am as a person cries out to Him for mercy. And I watch the doorway . . .
When Jake appears this time, he sets down the body he’s carrying. As he turns, stripping off his helmet as he goes, his eyes search for me. I struggle to my feet, to stand until he can see me.
And he does.
And he waits.
He waits for me.
Maybe like he’s always waited for me.
Like I’ve always waited for him.
THIRTY-SIX: Jake
I watch Laney take shaky step after shaky step toward me. Toward us. Shane, her fiancé, is lying in the grass just behind me. If ever there was a choice for her to make, now’s the time. Her actions will speak volumes. And I’ll do nothing to influence them.
Closer and closer she gets. Harder and harder my heart beats. What will she do? What will she do?
When she’s five or six steps from me, she glances down at Shane and my chest gets tight. But then, as if she was only paying him the simplest of courtesies, she launches herself into my arms and smashes her lips to mine.
I’ve always heard Jenna and her friends go on and on about all the different things a kiss can mean. Now I think I understand what they were talking about.
In this kiss is declaration. In it is acceptance. In it is passion and perseverance, hope and happiness. In it is everything I’ve ever needed and everything I never thought I’d want. It’s everything because she’s everything.
All the voices, all the sounds, all the activity around us is muted when she leans back and looks deep into my eyes. “You saved me, Jake.”
I smile. “You saved me first.”
For a few seconds, I think of spilling my guts, right here in the middle of a disaster area. But I think better of it when I hear a voice to my left.
“All right, hero, was there anyone else inside?” Chip asks. “If not, we need to get these flames put out and wrap this up.”
Leave it to a guy to interrupt such a great moment. I feel like snarling at him, Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?
But I guess my personal affairs are actually doing the interrupting. I’m here to do a job. To save lives and put out fires.
One down.
One to go.
I set Laney on her feet and wipe away a smudge from her pale cheek with my gloved finger. “Are you all right? Really?”
Her smile is wide and bright, and she nods enthusiastically. “I know it sounds weird, but I’ve never been better.”
I grin down at her. I know just what she means.
“I’ve gotta finish up here. I’ll find you later, ’kay?”
She nods again, her smile still intact. “Okay, I’m gonna go check on Daddy.”
She walks backward for a few steps, as reluctant to leave me as I am for her to go.
“Stay away from this building,” I say as I move toward the side of the hall, getting ready to replace my helmet. “You hear?”
She nods again and turns to walk to her father. I round the smoking structure to make my way to the back, to put this baby to bed.
* * *
Almost six hours later, I’m on my way home. The chief called in the backup shift to help with cleanup, which is something the bigger fire departments don’t get involved in. But Greenfield is small, and it’s more a neighborly gesture than anything else. With the reinforcements onsite, it allows those of us who were first-responders to come home for a break before resuming our shift.
My first thought was to go to Laney, but that might not be the best thing. If she’s still at the hospital being medically cleared with the other people from the church (which I heard had the ER backed up for hours) then there’s no reason for me to bother her there. If she’s at home sleeping, I definitely don’t want to bother her there. So I figure the best thing I can do is wait until morning. What I have to say can wait until then. It’s waited this long . . .
Coming down my driveway, my headlights hit a patch of blue just barely visible through the trees. That’s when I know I won’t have to wait. Laney’s at my house.
I pull up and park beside her car. The house is dark. I’m assuming she’s asleep since it’s late and she had a big night.
I cut the engine and get out, reaching into the back to get my gear. I jump when I hear a soft voice from the opposite side of the Jeep.
“Took you long enough.”
“Holy hot damn! You scared the shit out of me!”
Laney giggles. She must’ve been on the front porch, waiting.
I can hardly make her out on such a cloudy night with only a sliver of moon to see by. It looks like she’s changed clothes. She’s wearing something pale and, when she puts her foot on the tire and swings up into the Jeep, I can see that it’s short. Even in the low light, I can see lots and lots of long, tan leg.
My pulse picks up, and it has nothing to do with her sneaking up on me.
“What are you doing up? I figured you’d be asleep. You need rest.”
Laney moves to stand on the backseat, her bare feet on the cushion and her back braced against the roll bar.
“Who can sleep after a night like tonight?” She pauses before she adds, “And I don’t mean the fire.”
Here we go!
I take a deep breath. I knew this was coming. By giving in to what’s between us, that means I have to be open with her. She’ll expect that. But hell, she couldn’t even wait until morning?
For a few seconds, I have a burst of doubt. How will she react? Will it change anything?
Setting my bag on the ground, I hop into the backseat of the Jeep, repositioning her feet to the space on the seat between my legs. She might as well get comfortable. If we’re gonna talk, there’s no time and place like the present.
THIRTY-SEVEN: Laney
Jake settles my feet back between his legs and leans his head back. Looking down on him, all I can see is his shadowed face and the occasional sparkle of the low light in his eyes.
I didn’t come here to pressure him. I came here to . . . to . . . I don’t know what. To be with him. To see if what happened was real. To see where we go from here.
I came because I couldn’t stay away.
And because, once again, I feel hope. And, this time, I need to know if it’s shared.
But I don’t want to move too fast. Jake has ghosts. Demons. Things he hasn’t wanted to share. Since I don’t know what they are, I can’t possibly know if I’m about to step on a landmine. It makes proceeding tricky. But not impossible. I just have to be patient.
That’s what I’m telling myself when I hear him sigh and feel his fingers touch the top of my bare feet and start absently making slow circles.
I’m thinking of how to start, of where to start when Jake speaks. His voice is low. And distant. He’s somewhere else in time. And, this time, he’s taking me along with him.
“When I was little, before Jenna was born, Mom and Dad used to take me out into the orchard with them almost every day. Sometimes we’d pick peaches. Sometimes we’d play hide-and-go-seek in the rows of trees. Sometimes we’d walk in the shallow parts of the river. We had breakfast and lunch and dinner together more often than not. Even after Mom got sick, we did a lot together. It was after she got pregnant with Jenna that things got so much worse.”
Surprisingly, there’s no bitterness in his voice. Obviously, he doesn’t resent Jenna for what happened to his mother.
“Her cancer fed on the estrogen. It spread like wildfire while she was carrying Jenna. After she delivered, Mom started chemo and radiation. She took treatment for a couple of years, but the disease was always a step ahead of the cure. The last few months, all the doctors could do was keep her comfortable. Even as young as I was, I knew what was going on. I guess I just didn’t know how much it would change things. And what my new role would be.
“Dad was busy taking care of the orchard and Jenna. Mom was in bed all the time, so I was kind of lost. I spent a lot of time in there with her. I’d color on the floor in her room or play with my cars. Sometimes we’d watch TV together or she’d read me a story. If I ever went out to play, it was always by myself, which was never fun, so I didn’t stay long. I always ended up back in Mom’s room. With her. I got an up close and personal view of what she went through and how miserable she was.”
I listen with rapt attention. My heart bleeds for Jake the child, as well as Jake the man. I can’t imagine what it must’ve been like for a little Jake to have to watch his mother go through so much, and to have to do it all by himself for the most part. In the midst of it all, everyone got busy with life and Jake got pushed to the side. Forgotten.
“It was nothing unusual for her to ask me to bring her something—ginger ale, ice chips, a washcloth—so the day she asked me to hand her one of her pill bottles, I didn’t think anything of it. I guess some part of me wondered why Dad had started keeping them up in the cabinet rather than letting her take them by herself like she’d always done. But at eight years old, you just don’t really think about stuff like that. So I didn’t hesitate to get them for her.”
Pulse pounding and lip trembling, I have an idea where this is going. It’s all I can do not to cry bitter, heartbroken tears for this man that I love.
“She had me hand her the glass of water that always sat on her nightstand. Then she had me get up on the bed so she could hug me. She told me she loved me and that I would always be her big, strong boy and then she told me to go play outside until dinnertime. So I did.” His pause is deep. And dark. And haunted. “That was the last time I saw her alive.”
I can barely swallow past the lump in my throat. The ache in my chest explodes into an unimaginable spray of sympathy at his next words.
“My mother overdosed. She killed herself. But she didn’t kill herself out of weakness or selfishness. She didn’t do it to end her suffering. She did it to end ours. I once heard her tell Dad that she could live with what she had to go through, but that it was breaking her heart to see what it was doing to us. Dad told her we were fine, that we would always be better off with her around. No matter what. But she didn’t believe it. I could see it in her eyes more and more every day. She thought her life was hurting us. So she took it.”
I’m doing everything I can to let my tears fall in silence, to let Jake have this time, without interruption.
“When Dad found her, he yelled for me to come upstairs. He was sitting on the floor crying, holding Mom in his arms. The pill bottle was still in her hand. All I remember is him screaming at me, ‘You did this! You did this!’ I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t even listen to me. He told me to get out, that he didn’t even want to look at me. So I left. I went back outside for a while.