Chapter 5
At his apartment, Marco pulled his car into its usual parking place. His breakfast had been a quick one, but the food had been delicious and the conversation had remained comfortable. Neither he nor Beverly knew what to do about Mike and Lexi, but both had confirmed that the other couple was not getting along well. Marco patted the application, still firmly folded and kept secured in his pocket, then got out of his car and waited for Beverly. They definitely needed to talk about their own future.
He ushered Beverly into his apartment, then closed the door behind him. When he turned around, afterdropping his keys into the bowl in his foyer, Beverly wrapped her arms around him.
"Now, Mr. Lopez… About our other hunger pangs…"
Marco kissed her longingly, enjoying their closeness and the taste of her. Her scent drove him insane and they hadn't even made it to the bedroom yet. "Yes… about that…," he grinned. "Let's let our food settle first, alright?" he snickered.
"Oh, yea," Beverly replied, dropping her purse on the small coffee table. "I think you said something about wedding plans," she said with a smile.
"That, too," he responded, cryptically. "What were you thinking about as far as the ceremony goes?"
"Something simple. I don't have any family and I have very little money, so I really don't have a reason or the means to have a big wedding." She spun around, feeling as if she had accidently slapped him. "I'm sorry… You do have a big family. Did you want to have a big wedding?"
Marco sauntered up to her, pulling her into another embrace. "Nope, but I want a big honeymoon." He gasped when her probing hands moved southward, finding what they were searching for. He moaned with delight as she continued her ministrations. "My food better digest fast," he murmured.
She pulled back quickly, staring into his dark brown eyes. "Do you want something simple with just your family?"
"Maybe my family and the guys from the station. I'd really like for them to be there. I'd even like for Chet to stand up with me as my best man. How about you?"
"I don't want Chet to be my best man," she snickered. "I could ask Lexi to be my maid of honor, though."
Marco allowed his hands to slide down her back, resting one hand on either hip. "My Mama's house has a big back yard. And we always have a big Thanksgiving with everyone coming over. This year, Lexi will be there, so…"
"Do you think they'd mind if we hijacked the Thanksgiving celebration with our wedding?" She asked, her eyes glowing a bright emerald green.
"I think that's a perfect place and time for it. I have so much to be thankful for this year," he replied, planting another kiss on her full lips. "Wow, setting the date was easy," he smiled down at her, kissing her lightly.
As the kiss deepened, Beverly ran her hands up his muscular chest, feeling the rumpled paper tucked inside his shirt pocket. "What's this?" she asked, tapping it lightly with her fingers.
Marco reached up, grasping her hands inside his larger ones. "That's the other part of our future I wanted to talk to you about," he replied, pulling her towards his sofa. "Have a seat."
"Marco?" Beverly had grown accustomed to reading people's non-verbal cues, especially those of her fiancé. She could see the tension and stress all over his face, feel it in his trembling hands, and wondered if she should be worried.
Marco sat beside her, withdrawing the discarded application. He watched as a shadow fell across her features, recognition settling in her eyes, the creases of her forehead growing deeper.
"Where did you get that?"
"I found it in your office."
Her eyes grew wide. "You went through my office trash?"
"No," he responded, knowing that she would react in this manner. "It wasn't in the trash. It was beside the wastebasket."
"That doesn't make it okay for you to plunder through my stuff, Marco," she replied, embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "There's confidential stuff in there."
"I'm sorry. I wasn't plundering, baby. But… why did you throw it away?"
She looked down at her hands, seeing a hangnail, she began picking at it. "Because, I… I'm… not smart enough to go to graduate school. I thought I wanted to be a psychologist, a therapist, so I could help the ladies at the Wellhouse more than I am now."
"You ARE smart enough. So, I'm going to ask you again… Why did you throw it away? This could be your future? It holds the possibility of everything you want to be!" He replied, seeing her eyes misting over.
"No… Marco, YOU hold the possibility of everything I've ever wanted to be. YOU are my future. Being a wife and… perhaps one day, a mother… that's everything I ever wanted," she choked out in a raspy whisper.
Tenderly, he cupped her face in his hands, using his thumbs to brush away the tears. "Bev… you can have all that, and your education, too."
"No," she quickly stated, shaking her head and lowering her gaze, pulling away from his gentle touch. "Graduate school, especially for as long as it takes to become a psychologist, is expensive, and-"
"And I'm just a fireman, so you think we can't afford it," he said, for the first time feeling inadequate to provide for her.
"I didn't say that, Marco. I just… I'd rather be a wife and… and a mother."
Marco continued his debate, having had a little bit of time to plan what he would say. "Look, we'll be saving money by not having two apartments. That money could go towards the expenses of graduate school. Plus, I can work extra shifts, and-"
"Oh no, no way am I going to ask you to put yourself in any more danger than you already do."
Marco clenched his jaw muscles, trying not to allow his frustration to show. "You aren't asking me… I'm offering to help you do this." He looked into her emerald eyes, seeing the pain she was trying so hard to hide. "I… I can't allow you to give up on your dreams. I won't let you do it. I'll just mail it in myself."
Beverly felt an emotional stabbing sensation piercing her soul. She hadn't allowed a man to make decisions for her since she had escaped from the clutches of her pimp. She gritted her teeth together, her resolve steeling at the unpleasant reminder of her past. "Actually… I don't think it's your decision to make."
Marco watched as she stood up, reaching for her purse and turning her back to him. He had crossed the line with her and he knew it. "Beverly… please… don't go. I… I didn't mean to… to sound so, um, disrespectful."
"Is this how our marriage is gonna be?" she asked, spinning around to look at him. She fingered the engagement ring, wondering if he was going to ask for it back. "If we get married, are you gonna expect me to take orders from you and… and have no voice in our relationship?" Her breath was becoming ragged in spite of her best efforts to remain calm.
"Bev…"
"Don't 'Bev' me, Marco! I know that some women say a vow to OBEY their husbands, but… Maybe you've forgotten about where I came from." She stared at him, knowing she was hurting him badly, but at the moment, she couldn't stop the barrage spewing forth. "I spent too many years having no control over my own life. I was told what to wear, where to go, what to eat, when to sleep, who to…," she hesitated, not wanting to say anything more, the remorse on his face, obvious. "I love you more than life itself, Marco. But I won't," she hiccupped, feeling the back of her throat becoming scratchy. "I can't… give up the freedom I've gained… I… just can't do that… Not even… not even for you." She quickly shouldered her purse and rushed from the apartment, ignoring his pleas for her to stay. She was feeling her throat closing up, her chest tightening, and she recognized it as a panic attack – something she hadn't experienced in a very long time.
Marco stood still, staring at the door Beverly had slammed shut when she rushed from his apartment. How could their morning have changed so drastically in just a few minutes? Unwilling to allow her to leave in her current emotional state, he rushed to follow her.
She was hurrying to her car, feeling as if her shadow was breathing down the back of her neck, stretching out dark claws to drag her back into a life she despised. She quickly opened her car door, jumping inside and locking it. Her eyes darted around, looking for faces from her past, wondering if she was really being followed, or if perhaps she was beginning to crack under the emotional stress and strain of all the recent rescues. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, she began to weep, slowly allowing her head to rest against the steering wheel. "No… No, please… no more. I can't… I just can't take this… again," she cried to herself, hating what she had said and done. How could she have thought that a man like Marco Lopez would be trying to lure her into a life of total submission to his perceived authority?
Sensing a presence watching her, she slowly raised her head, her tear-filled eyes seeing the blurry image of her fiancé hovering near the driver's side door. She saw the anguish in his eyes, saw the guilt on his face, and she knew that the entire disagreement had been her fault.
Swallowing back her pride and her fears, she slowly opened the door, wondering what he might say to her. She was feeling disheveled, vulnerable, powerless. "Mar-co?"
No words were said, none were needed. He merely reached inside the car and assisted her out. He wrapped his arms around her very slowly, not wanting to startle her, wanting to give her every opportunity to back away from him. After several long moments, she laid her head against his chest, relishing the safety she felt within his embrace. And standing in the parking lot, she wept.
"Sshhh," he whispered, caressing her hair, grateful that she was allowing him to comfort her. "I'm so sor-"
"Nuh-uh, no… please… don't s-say it… It's my… fault," she somehow managed to say between her soft sobs.
As much as he wanted to carry her back into his apartment, he knew what he had to do. She needed to have total control over the situation. "Bev…, will you please come back inside and talk to me about what just happened?"
The question seemed so much less threatening than a statement. He knew exactly what she needed, and he loved her enough to give her the choice, cared for her enough to give her the option of refusing his request, even in something as simple as asking her to return to his apartment. Unable to find her voice, she nodded in agreement, allowing him to lead her back inside.
As soon as he had closed the apartment door behind them, he carefully removed her purse from her shoulder, dropping it back onto the coffee table before gently encouraging her to take a seat on his sofa. He never removed his arm from around her, wanting her to physically feel his support.
He kissed her lightly on top of her head. "Let me get you some water, okay?" He waited for her to agree, before slowly getting up and walking into his kitchen. He poured her a glass of cold water, then carried it back to the living room. "Here you go," he said, handing it to her.
Beverly's throat was dry, but although she really wanted the refreshing drink, her hands were shaking too much to hold the glass.
"I've got it," Marco offered, lifting the glass to her mouth. As soon as she had taken a few sips, he lowered it, giving her a moment to catch her breath. "More?"
"P-please," she agreed, appreciating his patient act of comfort. 'I don't deserve this… Don't deserve him…,' she thought to herself. After drinking a little more, she pulled away, lowering her gaze to her hands in her lap. She waited for him to set the glass of water aside before she spoke. "If you… want to… call it off…"
Marco held his open hand on the edge of her knee, barely touching her. He felt a sense of relief when she responded to his silent invitation by placing her hand in his larger one. He slowly closed his fingers around her hand, lightly brushing the ring he had given her. "I don't want to call off anything…," he smiled, hoping his voice sounded a little lighter. "You can't get rid of me that easily."
"I… I panicked… again," she sniffled.
"How long has it been since you've had one of these?" he asked, no judgment in his voice.
"It's been… a long… time."
"What made it happen now?" he asked, his heart breaking at her shuddering breath. "Be honest with me. If I did or said something, then I need to know."
"I'm… not sure."
Marco didn't really believe her, but he didn't want to pressure her. "That's okay… you're okay now… and… no, I do not want to call off the wedding. What kind of husband would I be if I ran out on you over this?"
"Humph… a normal one," she said, her voice beginning to sound stronger.
"It's supposed to be in good times and bad, sickness and health, for richer or poorer…"
"You really want to marry a mess like me?"
Marco smiled, squeezing her hand. "I want to marry you, and you, my sweet lady, are not a mess."
"I think… maybe I need some… help… before we start… our lives together," she finally admitted, feeling weak.
"I think that's a good idea, baby," he said, reaching over to gently lift her chin so that she was looking at him. "But I want to go with you. I think I need help, too."
"But you haven't…"
"But I want to understand how to give you what you need, Bev. I don't want to do anything that might cause a repeat of what just happened. Please, I want to go, too."
"You'd… do that… for me?"
"Yes, Beverly; I'd walk through fire for you. I just… don't want to stand… in the way of your dreams," he said, his voice fading to a whisper as his lips lightly brushed against hers.
"You aren't standing in the way, Marco…," she whispered, feeling much calmer now. "You're standing beside me while I live the life I never dreamed I would have."
E!
Across town, Mike turned his radio up a little louder than normal, grateful that his middle-aged neighbors were at work. He opened the refrigerator, pulling out a can of beer and popping the tab. The misty spurt dampened his hand, but he didn't mind. He knew it was early to be drinking, but he also knew that he needed to get some sleep and drinking a beer before a hot shower always helped him relax.
He finished his frosty beverage, tossing the empty can in his trashcan before heading down the hallway, emitting an uncharacteristic belch. He quickly stripped off his clothing, tossing them into his hamper next to his bathroom door, and headed for the shower. He stepped beneath the hot spray, feeling the tension melting, floating away with the suds that circled the drain before disappearing. The soothing sounds of the running water filled his ears, leaving him blissfully unaware of the sound of his ringing telephone.
E!
Bri's eyes followed the phone cord as it snaked from the wall in the hallway until it ran beneath the door of the room she knew was Lexi's bedroom. She listened for a moment, hoping to hear the comforting sounds of Lexi talking to Mike. Instead, she winced at the sound of the receiver being slammed down. She heard Lexi walking towards her door, and because she didn't want a confrontation, Bri hurried into her room, closing the door behind her.
Lexi replaced the phone on the hallway table, noting that Bri's door was closed. She pressed her lips together tightly, then quickly turned on her heels and headed downstairs. She couldn't get Mike on the phone, and she refused to talk to Bri, right now. She needed to talk to her mother and, perhaps more importantly, she knew she HAD to talk to Antonio, although she had no idea what she might say. She no longer knew the status of her relationship with Mike, and now she could add her relationship with Bri to that, too. But no matter what, she knew that her mother and Antonio loved her, and right now, she needed to be with them.
As she reached the ground floor, she could hear the sound of water running through the pipes in the crawl space beneath the floor. She immediately knew that her mother, and probably Antonio, were watering the rose garden. She forced a smile to appear on her face and headed for the eastern side of the house.
"Antonio, do you think you can dismount Silver and put on your fireman's helmet for me?" Maria asked, knowing how much her grandson enjoyed playing with the water hose.
"Uh-huh," the youngster agreed, swinging one leg high and out to the side. He then reached for an unseen helmet, adjusted the pretend chin-strap, then walked up beside his grandmother. They had made a game of watering the roses when he was just a toddler. Marco had showed him how to tap her elbow from behind to indicate that he would be taking over control of the hose.
Maria grinned when she felt the soft touch of his hand. Carefully, as if the hose were a fully charged inch and a half, she passed it off to him. "Okay, Ant… Give them some fog, just like Meeko taught you."
"I know how to do it," he said, dropping to the ground, the small green water hose lying between his knees.
Maria propped her hand on her hip, watching him swirling a wide spray of water onto her rose garden. "I think the white one is about to flash over," she commented, letting him know which one wasn't getting the proper amount of hydration.
"On it, Cap," he called out, playfully. Quickly he adjusted the nozzle so that the stream was focusing on the white rose bush on the far end.
Lexi leaned against the front porch railing, enjoying watching the two of them for a moment. "He's got quite an imagination, doesn't he?" she asked, letting her mother know she was there. She didn't want to startle the older woman when she turned around.
Maria looked over her shoulder. She could see that Lexi had been crying, but the face she was trying to display was a brave one. "A lot like his Momma was, at that age."
"I never wanted to be a fireman, though," Lexi chuckled.
"No… If I remember correctly, you wanted to be a nurse." Maria stepped away from the rose garden, moving closer to the place where Lexi stood. She didn't want Antonio to hear what she was about to say. "Did you talk to him, yet?"
Lexi crossed her arms, dropping her gaze. "No… He isn't home." She jerked her head in the direction of Antonio. "But I've got to talk to Michael soon about what Ant told him."
Maria slowly sat down on the edge of the porch, leaning her aching back against the railing beneath where Lexi stood. "What's there to talk about? Antonio was just being honest with him. There's no harm in that."
"Well, I just need Michael to understand that… that's not how I feel. I know Ant needs a father-figure, but… I'm not… looking for Ant a father, you know? I'd rather he didn't have a daddy than to have one that…" Lexi knew she was rambling because she honestly didn't know what she was going to say when she did speak to Mike.
Maria continued watching as Antonio moved from one plant to another. "Perhaps you should take a lesson from your son."
"What do you mean?"
Maria sighed, running the back of her hand across her forehead. "Antonio was honest with Mike. Maybe you should be, too. If you want to take some time to just find yourself… or date someone else, then you should let him know and… just go your separate ways." Maria knew that this would likely get a strong reaction from her daughter.
"Humph… I'm not the one who wants to date someone else. HE does! Didn't you see him with Bri? She's being a little tramp… trying to come between me and Michael. I NEVER should've let her move in here. I should've known that she would be after Michael. She practically threw herself at him! Did you see her, Mama? Did you see her kiss him? And… he didn't even try to stop her! Argh!"
Upstairs, Bri lay across her bed, staring at the ceiling. "Ugh… What am I doing here?" she whispered to herself, bending one elbow and resting her head on her hand. She was twenty-five years old and without Ms. Lopez' generosity, she would be homeless and broke. She had no job and very few possessions. She wondered what she was going to do to support herself, shuddering at the thought of having to survive on the streets again.
Feeling restless, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, she looked around the small room. Her two bags were propped in the corner and her purse was sitting beside them. "Welcome home, Bri," she mumbled to herself, sarcastically.
She spent the next ten minutes carefully folding her clothing and placing each piece in the chest of drawers. She found a clothes hanger in the closet and hung up the dress the men from 51's had bought her after she had testified at Mike's personnel hearing. Her eyes became misty as she remembered how the small group had made her feel when they bought her the new outfit, shoes, and even a vase of flowers. She had never been treated so well in her life. Her temporary trip down memory lane also brought back the thought of one specific person – Samford Bennett. She recalled how he had gently cradled her in his arms as he carried her out to the car to be transported to Rampart. He had even visited her in the hospital, and had talked with her at Lexi's welcome home party. She had not been able to stay long that night, having just been released from the hospital. Dr. Brackett had reluctantly agreed for Beverly to take her to the party for just a few minutes on the way to begin her new life at the Wellhouse.
"Forget it, Bri… He's way out o' your league," she chided herself, grasping the straps of her purse and plopping down on the bed. She turned the small cross-body purse upside down, emptying its contents onto the bedspread. She opened the small brown and yellow coin holder, removing a few folded bills and a couple of coins. She needed to know just how much money she had, unsure of how long it would have to last her. She unfolded the bills, seeing a small piece of white paper fall out.
There it was. Sam Bennett's business card. She read the line of numbers near the bottom of the card. Should she call him? Let him know that she was out of the Wellhouse? Then she thought better of it. Why would he want to know? He was only being nice to her when she was injured, right? Checking on her at the party because he was a gentleman. Surely, he had a girlfriend; a professional man like Sam couldn't possibly be available… and even if he was, he wasn't waiting on a former prostitute to make his life complete.
"Bri, you are one dumb bitch, just like Ricardo always told you. You're a nobody, a whore, worthless…," she mumbled. She thought of Lexi and how lucky she was to have a family willing to take her back. She thought her own mother's corpse lying cold in a grave ever since she overdosed on LSD when Bri was just a child. She briefly wondered if her father had ever been paroled from prison for armed robbery. She never understood why he had done that, questioning his sanity when he had explained to her that his drug addiction was stronger than his fear of dying, even after watching his wife die from the same drugs he stole money to buy. She shook her head, dismissing the thoughts of her parents. Neither was available to help her and she even wondered if they had ever wanted her in the first place. After all, how could a parent choose drugs over their own child? Then she thought of Beverly and how lucky she was to have found a man like Marco to love her. Would she ever be that lucky or was she destined to be alone for the rest of her life? She pressed her lips together in a thin line, determined to make the most of her situation, just like she always did. All the luck was used up in this part of the world. She would have to make her own way in life, just like she always had done.
She would stay with Ms. Lopez for a few days, or until the older woman asked her to leave. Obviously, staying in the same house with Lexi wasn't going to work on a long-term basis. She would have to do something to provide for herself; she just hoped she could avoid returning to her former life. But no matter what happened, one thing she knew for sure – she wasn't going to become dependent on a man again. No, if Beverly could do it, then so could she. She would somehow make it on her own.
She shoved the card back down into her purse. "He doesn't care about you… No man does… No man ever will. They only want one thing!" She knew that wasn't true, at least not true of all men. After all, there was Marco… and Mike… Mike. She sighed as she shifted her position on the bed. She had to get Mike out of her mind. Even if things didn't work out between the engineer and Lexi, Bri wasn't about to seek out a relationship with him… But she had to admit to herself that having someone like Mike to lean on would be nice.
Slowly, she opened the folded cash, counting out $12.50. "Ugh… shit!" Bri cursed, folding the money back into a flattened rectangle, returning it to the small coin pouch. She tucked the pouch back inside the purse before hiding it on the top shelf inside the closet. Old habits were hard to break. Even though she trusted the Lopez family, she felt compelled to hide the small amount of money she owned. If she lost that, she would truly have nothing.
E!
"Okay, that's it," Beverly said, hanging up the telephone in Marco's apartment. "We're scheduled to see Betty Adams," she announced, reading the name she had written down on the piece of paper beside his telephone.
"Do you know her?"
Beverly looked over at the man sitting beside her. "No, but Dr. Baker highly recommends her. She has experience working with women who have been prostitutes."
"When's the appointment?" Marco asked.
"Thursday at 3:00 pm. Are you sure that'll work with your schedule?"
Marco hugged her tightly, kissing her lightly on top of her head. "Yes… I'll work off shift that morning, so even if we get a late run, I'll still be home in time to go with you."
E!
Mike felt his face begin to contort in a yawn as he dried himself off, slipping on a tee shirt and boxer shorts. He closed the blinds in his bedroom, needing to limit the Southern California sunlight from interfering with his sleep. As he pulled back the covers on his bed, he glanced at his telephone. He didn't like taking it off the hook, leaving others no way of reaching him, but he was about to pull a quick turnaround and a double shift. He had to get his rest. Reluctantly, he removed the receiver from the cradle and laid it on the nightstand before crawling between the sheets. Suddenly, a piercing repetitive and annoying sound assaulted his ears.
"Damn it," he cursed. He knew the noise would soon end, but, at the moment, it was giving him a headache – something he definitely didn't need. So instead of waiting for it to stop, he replaced the receiver in the cradle and reached around to the back of the phone to flip the plastic ringer switch to the 'off' position. At least he would be able to get some sleep without being disturbed.
E!
"Chet?" Caroline called out from the kitchen where she was preparing dinner while her fiancé sat cross-legged in the middle of the living room floor, having a tea party with his future stepdaughter.
"Yes…pppssstth" he responded, noisily blowing and spitting the pink feathers out of his mouth from the boa Corrie had draped around his neck. "That tickles, ladybug," he whispered to the giggling little girl.
"I'd like to talk about wedding colors and flowers after dinner, if that's okay with you."
Chet cut his eyes at Corrie who had just taken her seat across the coffee table, pretending to pour tea into their cups. He wiggled his eyebrows at her, enjoying watching her pudgy cheeks pinken at the face he made. He then raised his voice in response to Caroline. "Awe, c'mon, babe. I'm being choked by a feather boa at a tea party and now you want to talk about flowers? You two are gonna turn me into some kind of fairy, aren't you?" he complained, winking at Corrie, thankful that the precocious child didn't understand that he wasn't talking about little flying mythical creatures like Tinkerbell.
Caroline peered across the kitchen bar, seeing Chet daintily picking up his tiny tea cup, his pinky finger jutting out at an angle. She couldn't stop the snicker that escaped from her lips. "Well, get used to it, hon. There's nothing but estrogen in your future," she laughed.
Chet glared at her briefly, then released a huge grin. "And I wouldn't have it any other way. As for the wedding, I already know the date and time, AND I know that I'm wearing my dress uniform so… What else do I need to know?"
"Well," she continued, returning her attention to the potatoes she was mashing. "I was thinking that since it will be 1976, and it's our nation's bicentennial year, maybe we could incorporate that into the wedding… You know, maybe decorate with red roses, white hydrangea, and I found this really pretty blueberry colored Iris, and-"
"And that all sounds perfect, Caroline," he said, eyeing Corrie suspiciously as the little girl stood up, walking around behind him.
"So, you're okay with the colors then? I think they'll blend in perfectly with the red fire engine that will be on your groom's cake," Caroline suggested, setting the mashed potatoes aside and slipping her hands into oven mitts. She didn't want to overcook the meatloaf. She removed the entrée from the oven and set the sizzling pan on the stove, spinning around when she heard a loud groan from the man she loved.
"Ugh! Ladybug, this is crossing the line!" Chet argued, playfully.
Caroline released a belly-heaving laugh at the sight of her firefighter fiancé whose head was being adorned, not with his usual fire helmet, but with a sparkling tiara. "It looks great with your curly hair, Chet," she laughed, discreetly opening a drawer and removing her small camera.
"Yea, yea… Gage better not ever find out about this," he mumbled, looking up when he heard the clicking of the camera. "CAROLINE!"
E!
Darkness blanketed the city of Los Angeles, as if tucking her in for the night. Johnny sat sipping a cup of coffee, trying not to stare at the silent telephone hanging on the wall of the Campbell residence. Would she call him?
"I honestly don't know how you can sleep when you drink coffee right before going to bed," Sharon mused.
Johnny, jolted from his reverie by the melodic sound of his mother's voice, set the cup back down on the coaster. He pasted a smile on his face, hoping to hide how he was really feeling. "Oh, you get used to it when you work a 24 hour shift," he explained. "Sometimes, I think I could sleep standing up." Suddenly a memory surfaced that caused his trademark grin to appear. "In fact, I actually fell asleep riding on the tailboard of the engine once."
"What?" Sharon gasped. Her mind's eye immediately sending images of her son falling from the back of the moving engine.
"On a run?" Roddy questioned, unable to comprehend what he was hearing.
"Yea."
"You mean to tell me that you fell asleep while the engine was responding… with lights and sirens?" the older man asked in disbelief.
"Yep… and it wasn't even a paramedic run," Johnny laughed, remembering his experiences with insomnia that led to the mishap; grateful for the opportunity to tell another story about the station – and for the temporary escape it offered from his stressing over the lack of a phone call from his beloved.
E!
The night skies over Selma lit up with streaks of lightning from the late autumn storm. Torrents of rain blew against the antique windows and the howling wind rushed about as if seeking entrance into the Victorian-style plantation home of Isaac and Collen Jones. Iris stood beside the front parlor windows, watching the ghostly limbs of the centuries old oak tree in the front yard thrashing around when the blue-white lightning lit up the premises.
"I'd forgotten just how rough these storms can be," she said, trying to hide her concern from the others. "We don't get storms like this out west."
"Don't let it bother you, dear," her mother soothed, lighting another candle to counter the darkness of the old home. "I'm sure the power company will get the lights back on as soon as the storm passes."
"Yea, this ol' house has seen her share of storms. She'll be just fine," Isaac reassured his daughter.
"The telephone is still out," Lily announced as she entered the room, plopping down on the sofa with a frustrated sigh.
"Pro'bly got water in the phone lines again," Isaac suggested. "That happened back in '69 when Camille came through."
"Who's Camille?" Lily asked, trying to make sense of what she was hearing.
Isaac gave a soft chuckle. "Camille was one of the worst hurricanes to ever hit this part of the country. Dang near wiped Biloxi off the map," he said, rubbing his left arm.
"Are you okay, Daddy?" Iris asked, stepping closer to him, concerned. "Are you having chest pain again?"
"No, no… jus' a little ache in my bones. Nothin' serious," he replied, not wanting to alarm them. If he told them the truth, then they would insist he go to the hospital and he wasn't going to place his family in harm's way by having them drive in this kind of weather. He pushed himself up slowly from his favorite chair. "I reckon I better go get me a couple o' aspirin," he stated, walking towards the kitchen.
Suddenly a bright white flash exploded just outside the house, the sizzling noise it made was immediately silenced by the enormous cracking sound, then the entire house shook, windows rattling from the thunder. But it was the sound of shattering glass from the kitchen that caused Iris' heart to nearly stop.
"DADDY!"
