Chapter 16
For all you Roy fans out there, this chapter should make you happy! For all the rest of you, more on the other characters to follow!
He was tired, but it wasn't the exhausting, crawl through rooms on your knees pulling a charged hose kind of tired. It was simply the kind of fatigue that slammed into you after the adrenaline had drained away and left you floundering in a kind of mindless middle ground. The brief but satisfying nap in the early hours of the morning, the ride to the hospital in the ambulance, and the waiting for Johnny's arrival had given him time to recharge his physical batteries; it was his mental state that was presently dragging along at a snail's pace. Perhaps because he had spent most of that waiting time thinking some pretty deep thoughts about his new partner and the other guys in the station?
Roy allowed himself a tight little smile as he pulled his sports car into the driveway of his house. Hopefully a few hours of sleep would fix his mental lethargy; that, of course, and the agreeable thought of forty eight hours off. He angled the Porsche off to the side of the cemented space, leaving JoAnne plenty of room to back the station wagon out from the single car garage. Since she usually had the kids with her, it was just easier to let her park the wagon inside and not have to wrestle children and gear outside.
Using his key, he let himself in the side door of the garage. He flipped on the light switch and noted with satisfaction the battery charger correctly hooked up to the car - Jo really did a good job of handling things when he was on shift. After this paycheck, a new battery would be in place and his enterprising spouse would be able to move on to her next project. What that would be was anyone's guess, as it seemed that some inanimate object was always breaking or demanding attention. Well, at least they didn't have to worry about the house itself since it was a rental and the landlord was fairly quick about fixing problems.
He switched off the charger and unclamped the cables, winding them neatly around it before he placed it on the shelf over his narrow work bench. Gently pushing down the hood of the Country Squire, he started towards the door that led inside the house. Pausing with his foot on the bottom cement step, another door kitty corner to the one he was about to unlock caught his notice. He turned, stepped back down on the painted grey of the garage floor, and opened the narrow door.
He had to move two steps into the small room and pull a chain to illuminate this added on space; wiring a switch into the wall was a project he wasn't about to let his wife attempt, at least not by herself. And the usually agreeable landlord had made it clear that if DeSoto wanted it finished, he would have to do it himself and pay for the supplies. Perhaps someday, Roy thought with a twinge of amusement, if they were still here and he had some extra time to fix the inconvenience. Overall, it didn't really matter, for this tiny lair was one of the reasons they had rented the Craftsman style two bedroom, one bath house. It was Roy's little sanctuary from everything and everyone and contained his pottery supplies, the kiln he had painstakingly constructed, and his wheel.
He gave himself a long moment to survey the room which gave him so much satisfaction, glancing over the narrow shelves lining one roughly sided wall which held the clay and other paraphernalia, the tiny stand in the corner which displayed several pieces ready for firing, and the large window that pretty much WAS the rear facing wall. He stepped over to that, about six big steps were all it actually took, and gazed out at the backyard. Reason number two for renting this small but charming house.
The yard was large, with plenty of room for a grassy area, shade throwing trees, clothesline, sandbox for the kids, and a small wading pool which had already been drained and put away. There was even room for a rectangular shaped garden which extended into the side yard. The cement pad that comprised their patio held a grill along with a circular table and four chairs; one could step out through the sliding glass doors in the living room to access this relaxing area.
He nodded his head thinking that this was a perfect spot for an "A" shift barbecue. Plenty of room, the weather would hopefully cooperate so that everything could be done outside, and from the enthusiasm he had received from his shift mates it sounded like they all would be attending. He'd even got a rather strong affirmative from their usually placid captain, which had surprised him a bit but had pleased him. Johnny had been the only one who had been lackluster in his response, but Roy attributed that more to exhaustion and illness than to Gage's possible aversion to socializing. You don't share an apartment with other firefighters and cops, as his partner had done in the early stages of his career, and be allergic to the company of other people.
Satisfied with his brief foray into his haven and the view from the window, as well as his thoughts about the new guys he worked with, DeSoto exited the room. He unlocked the door into the house and strolled into the kitchen, sniffing to see if there was something in the works for breakfast. No savory odors met his questing nose, but there was an aluminum pan on the stove. He lifted the lid and peered inside at the contents, grimacing at the sight of the grey, lumpy mass. It appeared to be oatmeal….he stirred it with the wooden spoon resting on the stovetop in its oval ceramic holder, staring in fascination as the glop slowly dripped off the spoon and back into the pan clump by clump. Yep, most assuredly the stick to your ribs, healthy heart paste his mother used to make.
"Roy," a soft voice interrupted his distasteful reminiscing and he almost reluctantly plunked the spoon back into the gluey mixture. He looked over at his wife as she advanced further into the cheery, buttercup hued kitchen and rapidly shifted his mental gears from the weird calculations his mind was working on. The sight of JoAnne, even as disheveled and tired as she appeared, was a whole lot more appealing than the question of the exact seconds it would take the oatmeal to begin its journey from the end of the spoon to the bottom of the pan.
"Hi Honey," he answered with a smile, pulling her into a full armed embrace and then releasing her with a gentle kiss on the lips. He kept his hands lightly on her arms as he looked her over. She was still in her quilted bathrobe, bare feet with painted pink toes peeking out from under the hem of her nightgown. Her hair that she was letting grow out much to his pleasure was pulled into a short ponytail and not in its usual stylish do and Roy definitely knew what all this meant. These were all signs of a harried morning. She had sounded fine on the phone when he had talked to her from Rampart; in fact she had been positively energetic so what had happened between then and now?
She must have read his expression because she pulled loose and went over to the stove, peering into the pot. "It doesn't look too appetizing, but maybe with some brown sugar, milk, and raisins…"
He cleared his throat and moved up beside her, placing his hands on her trim waist and looking over her shoulder as she gave the cereal a thorough stirring. "It's fine, Jo, I haven't had oatmeal in years. In fact, I can't think of anything better for a rainy morning."
She stilled her hands and leaned back against him, letting out her breath in a soft sigh. "I just needed to make something that didn't involve constant attending. Lisa was up most of the night with croup; I carried her around in circles in the bathroom with the shower steaming up the room as it seemed to be the only thing that would give her relief. She's finally sleeping now."
"Is Christopher ok?"
"Yes, yes, he's coloring right now at the coffee table. You know he sleeps like his daddy, nothing wakes him up."
Roy brushed his lips across the soft skin of her face. "You sounded wide awake when I talked to you earlier. And even the second time when I called to let you know I was running late. "
"Well, that kinda happens when you drain a full pot of coffee," she admitted wryly, closing her eyes at the feathery touch of his mouth. She let him hold her for a minute or so before turning in his embrace and giving him a passionate kiss on the lips. "Now go say hello to your son, he's been waiting for you. I'll make a new pot of coffee, get the toast going, and doctor up your porridge for you. It'll be ready in a few minutes."
She broke loose from the entwining arms and gave him a little encouraging push towards the living room. He went, sneaking a quick look back over his shoulder. She snatched up her apron from the countertop and began rinsing out the coffeepot and he swiveled his head back around just in time to avoid running into the Lazy boy recliner that resided at the edge of the pale blue area rug.
"Daddy!" His son squealed, dropping a fistful of crayons down over the table and running towards his father full tilt. Roy caught him and swung him up and through the air in a full circle, making airplane noises. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jo step to the doorway and look at them; he realized there would be hell to pay if they woke up Lisa. He lowered his voice to a loud whisper and swung his boy up onto the gold couch, dropping down beside him and tousling the light brown hair fondly.
"What have you been coloring, son?" He asked, peering down at the pages scattered across the low table. Poor kid didn't have much talent in the creative drawing department.
"Daddy," Chris whined, reaching out and grabbing one of the wrinkled sheets. "Can't you tell what this is?"
Roy swallowed hard and stared at the indecipherable splat on the page, thinking that except for the red color it resembled the breakfast he was about to partake of. His son whipped it around and shoved it under his nose, making his father cross his eyes to peer at the drawing.
"Of course I know what it is," Roy bluffed gamely, squinting and then closing one eye to try and bring the masterpiece into focus. "It's a fire truck."
"I knew you were smart!" The youngster declared. He dropped his excited voice down a notch as Roy shushed him with a finger on his lips.
Letting out his breath in a relieved puff of air, Roy was glad he had gone with his first choice of the engine, relying on the brilliant red of the picture and the blue slash which he assumed was the water pouring out of the hose. His second choice had been a dragon; Chris was becoming interested in the stories of knights and castles and of course the fiery, scaly, always red dragons that always seemed to be the villains in the tales.
Seeing his wife reappear at the doorway and beckon to him, he scooped up Chris and flew him quietly into the kitchen. He perched him on the chair with the two phone books stacked on it and seated himself next to him, eyeing his bowl of oatmeal suspiciously. He looked over at his son and grinned when he saw the boy regarding his own small bowl with equal horror.
"Boys," Jo warned, when it seemed that they were on the edge of revolt. The head of the household gamely scooped up a spoonful as his offspring watched him with wide eyes.
"Mmmmmmm!" DeSoto exclaimed in surprise, as the thick mixture hit his taste buds. It looked terrible, but whatever his creative spouse had done to it, it tasted amazing.
Jo dropped down into a chair and picked up her coffee mug; the fresh brew within was no longer black but almost white with milk. She watched as her men demolished the oatmeal and the buttered toast, chasing down the food with sugared coffee and milk in a plastic cup. Roy finished his breakfast with a satisfied sigh and leaned back in his chair with a grunt.
"Why don't you go lie down and catch a quick nap while Chris and I spend some time together?" He suggested, noting the way she sat motionless in her chair. She was holding her cup in her hands but not drinking it.
JoAnne tore her gaze away from their son who was dissecting the remaining slice of toast on his plate into strips. She set down the coffee. "It's okay, Mrs. Wilson is coming by to take Christopher to the zoo in a few minutes. Her son Jack has been begging to go, and wanted Chris along for company. It couldn't have worked out better."
"Jack is my best friend," Chris declared stoutly.
"That he is," his mother agreed simply and glanced over at her husband. Roy had slouched down into the chair further and was now contemplating his dirty bowl and plate. He looked up and caught her gaze.
"You're sure you're ok with having a barbecue our next Saturday off?"
"Of course, it will be a perfect opportunity to meet everyone."
Roy steepled his fingers together and regarded the tips thoughtfully. "It looks like everyone will be able to make it, although I'm sure Captain Hammer and Mike Stoker will have to check with their wives first."
He snickered and Jo shot him a dirty look. He managed to look partly sheepish but his lips were twitching in glee. His spouse was unable to hold her fierce glare and allowed her own mouth to turn upwards. Chris ignored them both, stealthily pushing the scraps of bread onto the floor.
"Hey," Roy said softly, sitting up straight and placing a hand on Jo's arm. "I'll get the yard ready, borrow some chairs and tables, and do the grilling; what else do you want me to do? I could have the guys bring things, you know, like some of the food and stuff…"
"Oh, I've planned enough of these get togethers, honey, to be able to throw it together. If you can take care of the kids on that morning, I'll make a run to the store. It won't take long at all to cook the macaroni and eggs for the salad, throw together the truckers' beans, and whip up some lemonade. I'll leave it to you to pick up the pop, ice for the coolers, and some adult beverages. I'll make and bake a couple of desserts on Thursday or Friday. Can you think of anything else you'd like?"
Roy threw up his hands in mock disgust. "What I'd like to know is how you can organize all of this and take care of the house, the kids, and me without missing a beat. I mean, geez Jo, sometimes you have so many things going on at the same time it makes me dizzy."
"I do what I need to do, just like you do the same," she countered modestly, shrugging. She half rose from her chair, leaned, and peered down at Roy's head, scrutinizing the reddish blond strands with interest. "So, on the matter of my extra activities, do you want me to touch up your hair?"
"Uh, no, no, let's just let it go back to its natural color," he stammered in reply, wishing that he had never let her experiment with color on his head. * It wasn't that she done a poor job of it; after the first week, he had actually liked the red in his hair. But there was no way he was going to let her practice anymore with him as the subject now that he was assigned to a station and the guys would notice any kind of drastic change. He would just let it revert back and no one would be the wiser that he, Roy DeSoto, fireman and now paramedic, had colored his hair!
Jo nodded her head in acceptance but her spouse had a feeling that next she would be contemplating how he would look with a perm. She didn't say anything, however, and instead pointed a finger at Christopher who immediately stopped his furtive movements with his breakfast leftovers. "You, young man, know very well that you're not supposed to throw food on the floor for the dog. Please excuse yourself and clean up your mess."
"Yes Mom," her son pouted, lip thrust out. "May I be excused please?"
"You may, and please lose the attitude while you're at it."
Nodding, Chris obediently climbed down from his perch and trudged over to the narrow cupboard that filled the gap between the refrigerator and the wall. He removed the dustpan and whisk broom, deftly cleaned up his scraps, and deposited them into the trash can. He put away the cleaning supplies and sidled over to his dad, leaning on his leg and idly playing with the abandoned silverware on the table.
"I guess it's true what they say about moms having eyes in the sides and backs of their heads, eh Chris?"
"Yeah Dad, it sure is," he agreed readily, half heartily kicking at the chair's leg with his foot. "Sorry Mom."
Jo smiled and made a shooing motion with her hand. "All right, go get washed up so you'll be ready when Mrs. Wilson gets here. I'll be there in a minute."
Needing no further encouragement, Chris shot out the door, sliding part of the way on the waxed linoleum in his socked feet; they watched his hurried exit with matching smiles. Roy shook his head in amusement. "You know, he reminds me of John, or maybe it's vice versa, not really sure. That crazy shift involving all those animals a while back and the way Johnny went up that tree at the start of the shift yesterday…"
His wife rose from her chair, carrying her full coffee cup over to the sink and dumping it. She hunched slightly over the sink, keeping her back turned. Her voice was level, emotionless, when she replied. "You mean your new partner, John Gage? I thought you said he was, what did you call it, serious and intent?"
"Yep, that's the one. And he is that, but I'm starting to see another side of him. Sometimes he seems so incredibly young and energetic, while other times he's like an old soul. Do you know he was raised on an Indian reservation?"
"I've only met the man once for a few minutes, so I didn't know that, but from the tone of your voice I would guess that you didn't realize that either." Now there was a trace of irritation both in her answer and her tone.
Roy didn't notice the hard edge to her comment; he was too engrossed in thinking about the responses that had followed the tree climbing rescue, and the horrible one that had preceded it. Gage's mood had seemed to slowly deteriorate as the hours went by and there had been nothing particularly energetic or youthful about him for the rest of the day, not counting the whole weed episode of course. They had all worked forty eight hour shifts before so that hadn't been the problem. No, there had been something eating at Johnny, perhaps the same something that had almost came out in a question in the locker room.
He gave himself a little mental shake and tried to pick up the thread of conversation he had been having with Jo. It took a second before he could focus back in on what she had said. "Nah, aside from some chit chat in the squad after runs or a little bit of locker room gossip, we really haven't talked too much. Last night, or I guess I should say early this morning, was the first time we actually had a few minutes of in depth conversation. And even then, that's pretty much all I got from him. That and the fact that he was a bit wild growing up."
She turned from the sink, wiping her wet hands on a towel and tossing it behind her to the counter when finished. She hesitated before blurting out her next question. "So is he full blooded Indian, or just part? You don't grow up on the reservation unless one of your parents belongs there."
This time he caught the steely undertone and half turned in his chair see her, wondering what had brought on that obvious aversion. Because she was right, she didn't know his new partner at all. So he found it hard to believe that his normally open minded and easy going spouse would base her whole opinion of the man on the one idiotic, naïve comment Gage had made to her the night of his party. Surely, she wasn't prejudiced; he had never seen that undesirable trait in her before. He rejected that thought quickly but knew he was going to have to figure it out. Maybe it was just one of those instant dislike on sight things.
"I'm not sure, probably at least half. Like I said, he didn't go into much detail, just made it clear that he didn't live in a tepee."
JoAnne cracked a smile at that comment and Roy rose from his chair, still watching her. She held his gaze for a moment and then dropped her eyes, playing with the sash on her robe.
"What about girlfriends, friends, dates or whatever? Will he be bringing someone? And what about the other two single men? I'll need to know so I can buy the right amount of meat."
Roy had a feeling that was not what she intended to say, but decided to let the matter drop, at least for now. "I'll find out."
She nodded and left. Roy cleaned up the mess from the table. By the time he had the plates scraped, rinsed, and put into the soapy basin of the sink, Jo had herded their son back into kitchen to say goodbye.
Roy hugged him, straightened the collar on his shirt, and smiled fondly as he watched the boy run for the door; the doorbell had rung once, signaling the arrival of the Wilsons. His wife followed him at a more sedate pace but fast enough that the doorbell wouldn't ring again and possibly wake their sleeping daughter.
She returned a few minutes later and surveyed the fairly clean and organized area. She pushed in the last chair and rested her hands on the top of it. "Thank you, I appreciate you helping out, especially on mornings like this."
"Not a problem, Anne, you know I'll always try to be there for you," he replied quietly, coming up behind her and gently massaging her tense shoulders.
He debated whether or not to tell her that he wanted to check up on Gage after they all got some much-needed sleep; probably not a wise thing to say right now after the way she had reacted to his last mention of him. And if he brought up that little, unwelcome tidbit that the flu bug was flying around, there would definitely be hell to pay. His exhausted wife didn't need to hear any of that right now anymore then he needed to get into a heated discussion with her about her animosity towards his partner, or whatever the heck it was. Most of the time he knew when to pick his battles or keep his mouth shut, and this was one of those times.
With a little coaxing, he got her out of the kitchen and past the slightly messy living room without her stopping to pick it up. Twenty minutes later the adult DeSotos were snuggled together in bed. Roy ran his fingers idly through Jo's now unbound hair as she rested her head against his bare chest. They talked quietly, letting the words soothe them into a drowsy, contented state. They both stole occasional glances towards the crib against the wall; Roy had checked their daughter over and she was sleeping soundly with only a trace of congestion to be heard.
"I am so glad that Lisa is much better. It's the times like these that I am really glad you're a paramedic," she whispered, running her hand slowly over his stomach.
"Oh?" Roy queried, distracted by the soft touch. He cleared his throat, his other hand now in play on the silky fabric of her gown in back. "And here I thought it was because we can play doctor due to my extensive knowledge of a woman's anatomy."
Jo giggled; her hand slid lower and effectively stopped their conversation.
~TBC~
*In an interview that was printed in the August 3rd, 1974 issue of TV Guide, the actor that plays Roy stated that he was told, when he was hired, by the creator of the show to dye his hair red. (and to cut it as well) Looking at the episodes, you can see where his hair does appear to have a reddish tint to it and then it gradually fades to his original color. So perhaps at least part of an interview with one of the stars was accurate! Whether it's true or not, I decided it would be something that his wife might experiment with, especially when you observe his interesting hair style in a couple of episodes in a later season; I believe the episodes are in season 5.
