The Fireman Who Loved Me (12 page)

Brody rose lazily to his feet. “I really prefer not to interfere in these things, but since you’re upset, I’ll make an exception.”

He strolled out of the room, as Melissa hopped to keep up. “But you interfere all the time.”

“Do I? How irritating. I’ll have to stop that.”

“No, no, you shouldn’t. They’d probably all kill each other if you let them.”

“Well, maybe I should let them.” They walked into the lounge, where Vader and Ryan were standing chest to chest, raring to go.

“No fighting in the firehouse,” ordered Brody. They immediately fell apart, still glaring bloody murder at each other. “Outside, everyone, so we can settle this.”

The firefighters streamed outside. Melissa grabbed Brody’s arm. “You’re going to let them fight? That’s not going to solve anything.”

“No brothers, right?” murmured Brody. When they had all reached the backyard, a tidy square of well-trodden lawn, Brody addressed his troops. “Okay, where’s one of our married men? There you are, Double D. Who carves the turkey in your house?”

“Well, Cap, it used to be me, but my wife makes the cuts a heckuva lot better, so now she does it.”

“So you’re saying we should see who carves the turkey better?”

“Whoo-hoo,” shouted Fred. “A carve-off! I’ll get some birds.” The firefighters sprang into action, and in less than two minutes a long table had appeared, on which two leftover roast chickens were displayed. Ryan and Vader were each handed a knife. No one except Melissa seemed to be bothered by the idea of sharp knives in the hands of two virile young men who had been fighting tooth and nail a few minutes ago.

“The rules.” Brody planted himself at the end of the table. “The rules are, whoever can extract the most meat with the fewest number of cuts will win. Carvers, ready?”

Ryan and Vader eyed each other like knife-wielding prizefighters ready to take each other down. Melissa hoped they understood they were supposed to attack the chickens, not each other. “And . . . begin!”

They pounced on the poor chickens. The other firefighters immediately took sides, shouting out bets and heckling the two competitors. “Two bucks on Vader!” “Hoagie, go for the wings first!” “Not so deep, moron.” “Try a little freakin’ finesse!” Stan ran in circles around the table, barking frantically and nipping at random pant legs. If only she had a camera, thought Melissa, laughing at the sight of two big strong guys making a mess of the greasy roast chickens. The Great Turkey Carve-Off. It would make a fantastic blooper piece for the end of the special.

Vader managed to take off two wings and one leg before he pressed the knife too hard and the slippery chicken spurted off the table. Ryan raised his fist in triumph, but his bird was an even bigger mess. It looked as if a wild beast had torn it apart.

Brody, shaking his head in disgust, called a stop to the massacre.

“Both of you should seriously consider taking some lessons from Double D’s wife. In the meantime, since I am the senior captain of this station, I will be carving the turkey. And anyone who fights over this damn special again will be put on Smokey duty for the next two weeks.” He turned on his heel.

“Smokey duty?” Melissa asked as he passed her.

“Instructing kids in fire safety. They actually like it, but they pretend not to,” answered Brody before heading into the station. Melissa watched him go, her respect for him rising another notch. He’d managed to bring the fight to an end, prevent future fights, and entertain the guys in the process. And look damn good doing it too.

Chapter Twelve

T
wo days before the taping of the Thanksgiving special, Nelly slowly made her way into the nondescript office building called, innocuously, Medical Suites. Down a hall, second door to the right, Dr. Daughtry awaited her. Even though she was used to these appointments, her stomach tightened with nerves. She knew very well her time was coming. But the “when” of it—that was the question. Even though Dr. Daughtry always said he couldn’t tell her that precisely, she was convinced he had the truth locked somewhere inside his head.

She greeted the nurse-receptionist, who showed her immediately into the doctor’s office. The privilege of old age, or of the terminally ill; either way she had both bases covered. With bustling energy and a folder of X-rays, the ever-cheerful Dr. Daughtry strode into his office and sat behind his desk. As always, she plastered a defiant smile on her face. That smile had helped her soldier on since she’d first gotten the news.

“Well, Dr. Death?”

He winced. “Please don’t spread that nickname around.”

“Where I’m going, no one’s going to care.”

“You’re one of a kind, Nelly, you really are.”

“I know that. And I know what’s in that folder. What I don’t know is how long I got.”

He opened the folder and extracted X-rays and some typed reports. “No one can tell you that, Nelly. But I want you to look at your latest scans. This was taken a month ago. And this is the most current.” He pointed to the shadowy area that she knew so well, and her face tightened. It had grown so much bigger. How could it get that much bigger in just one month? From the beginning, she’d promised herself no lies. Whatever the grim truth, she wanted to know it.

“It’s growing awful fast, I guess,” she said.

“Awful fast.”

“How much time? Can you tell me now?”

“Less than we thought.”

“C’mon, Doc, that’s no way to treat a dying lady. Give me a real answer.”

“No more than six months.” He gave it to her simply and sympathetically, but a punch in the gut was a punch in the gut.

“Fudge. You can’t hold it off? I got some things to wrap up here.”

“Are you still set against chemotherapy?”

“Yes.”

“Then there’s nothing I can do. ”

“Fudge.”

“Nelly, I think it’s time we spoke to your family.”

“No!” she said sharply. “Not yet. It’ll throw everything off. They’ll be too busy worrying about me to look out for themselves. And that’s what I’m trying to take care of.”

“As you like, but soon you’ll have to, Nelly. They deserve to know the full extent of your condition. We need to start thinking about hospice care. You’re going to get to a point where you can’t function at home.” She nodded reluctantly. Hospice care was the last thing she wanted. If she could write the end of her own story, it would be quick and happy—meaning she’d know her family would be all right.

The hassles they put her through, that family of hers. As she waited at the curb for Haskell to pick her up, she cursed the bad luck that gave her such stubborn descendants. Why couldn’t Melissa see the truth right in front of her? How much time was she going to waste before she admitted her feelings and did something about them?

She glanced up at the sky. Right now she really needed to talk to Leon. “The problem, Leon, is that Melissa doesn’t know how to fight for what’s hers. Even though they see each other nearly every day, they’re too darn ‘professional’ to take advantage of the situation. Professional! Professional doesn’t keep you warm at night.”

A woman passed by, pushing a stroller. She gave Nelly a pitying look, but Nelly didn’t care. Her conversations with Leon were her business.

“What if Ella gets tired of Ryan and decides to steal Brody away? I wouldn’t give Melissa a snowball’s chance in a bonfire. Not because she isn’t ten times as good as Ella. Because she doesn’t stand up for herself. Remember all the tricks I pulled to get rid of that Alice May you had an eye for? I’m not sorry for it either. All’s fair in love and war, and that’s a fact. It’s a battle you gotta fight till you can’t fight no more. But she doesn’t see it that way. I don’t know, Leon. I’m at my wits’ end. If you got any pull up there, you gotta think of something. You always were a charmer. Put that cheeky smile of yours to work, if you don’t mind.”

Haskell pulled up and opened the passenger door of his truck. She climbed in. “Sorry I’m late. Got stuck with the captain.”

“Making an old lady wait, you should be . . . did you say ‘captain’?”

“The job I’m working on. Boss is a fire captain.”

“Who is it? What’s his name?”

Haskell shot her a suspicious look. “I probably shouldn’t say.”

“Oh, pish. You’re not a doctor, Haskell.”

“Well, it’s Captain Brody over at Station 1. Helluva good guy. I’m headed back over there after I drop you off. It’s his last day off and we’re trying to finish the kitchen.”

Nelly looked up at the ceiling of the truck, mouthing a thank-you. She knew it. Leon had come through for her. Must have been that smile of his.

As soon as she got home, she called Melissa at work. “Your dad needs a ride home from his job.”

Melissa groaned. “He started drinking again, didn’t he?”

“No, nothing like that. He’s fine. Something about his truck.” She should have worked out a more detailed story, but she’d wanted to get this done before her nap. Dr. Death appointments always took it out of her.

“Grans, you have no idea how busy I am. This stupid special is taping in two days, and I can’t even do my own work. I just had to cancel my meeting with Rodrigo to help Ella with a wardrobe consultation.”

“This is after work. It’s not far. And you know how much it would mean to him. He’s been trying so hard, Melissa, you know he has. And you barely give him the time of day.”

“Is this some plot to throw me and my father together?”

“No! I swear it’s not that.” Nelly loved being able to deny an accusation with a clear conscience.

Nelly heard her granddaughter’s heavy sigh. “Fine. Give me the address. I’ll swing by after work.”

Nelly hung up, feeling exhausted. Would it help things along if Melissa saw Brody outside of work, where they wouldn’t be so worried about being “professional”? Who knew? But the way she saw it, Leon had dropped the opportunity in her lap. She might as well jump on it.

T
hat evening, Melissa arrived at a house still under construction in the lovely wooded subdivision just beyond Fern Acres. When the work was finished, it would be a nice house, she thought. Pretty location, surrounded by birch woods, the nearest neighbors barely within shouting distance. Two stories, unusual for Southern California. Gabled windows, a porch. She spotted a silver Airstream trailer parked at the edge of the yard.

She walked to the front door—or rather, the empty space framed by studs where the door would eventually be installed. Peering in, she saw no signs of life. She rapped her knuckles on one of the studs.

“Hello? Is Haskell McGuire here?”

She heard the clank of tools being put down, followed by firm footsteps. At the sight of the man who appeared, a shocked little thrill went through her.
Captain Brody
. Brody as she’d never seen him before, wearing torn jeans, a tool belt, and no shirt. Dizzy, Melissa gripped the stud and feasted her eyes.

Hard-muscled and furry-chested, he had a sprinkling of sawdust in his dark hair and on his shoulders. Oh, those shoulders, powerful and glistening with sweat. Her eyes traveled down his chest to his muscular stomach. Not an ounce of fat to be seen. Her mouth went dry, and she had a sudden urge to lick that one particular drop of sweat off his belly. She dragged her eyes up so they wouldn’t stray below his belt buckle. When her eyes met his, she felt as if she’d been caught with her hand in a cookie jar.

The nerve of the man, catching her off guard like that. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I live here, but I suppose I should have cleared it with you ahead of time. Haskell!”

Haskell hurried in, wiping sawdust off his face. “Melissa? Why are you here?”

“Grans said you needed a ride.”

“Huh? Why’d she say that?”

“I have no idea. Is your truck okay?”

He shook his head. “She’s up to something. Thought she seemed strange when I picked her up at lunch.”

Melissa flattened herself against the door frame to let him pass. She looked back at Brody. With the first impact of his bare chest over, she could think more clearly.

“My father is working for you?”

He nodded.

Disaster. Her ex-con father, whom she never talked about with anyone, was working with Brody. Not only that, but they seemed friendly with each other. Too friendly. How much did Brody know about her family? She didn’t like this one bit. “Why? I mean, out of all the electricians in San Gabriel, why?”

“Got his name from the phone book. He’s a hard worker.”

“Is he?” Melissa’s dread grew. Her father had a knack for ruining everything. Was this going to be like the time he scared off her junior prom date by pantsing him?

“Yes. He’s doing an excellent job.”

“Why wouldn’t he? What are you implying?”

“No reason. I just said it in case you were wondering.” Then, in a blatant attempt to change the subject, “Do you want a soda?”

She refused to be distracted. “Why would I wonder?”

“No reason. I have Snapple, Coke, beer. Wanna beer?”

“Is that what you’re doing, drinking beer with Haskell?”

“Of course not. I know he doesn’t drink.”

Melissa clenched her fists, her nails digging into the palms. If he knew that, what other embarrassing things did he know? “What else did he tell you?”

“Melissa, calm down. I know how to mind my own business.” He took a step toward her, and she held up a hand.

“Oh, really?” This was getting worse and worse. She knew her father was trying to talk more, thanks to AA. “What has he told you about me?”

Brody looked uncomfortable. “What are you so worried about? I needed an electrician. He needed work. End of story.” He took another step toward her. “What he’s done in his life doesn’t reflect on you.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil. But may I point out that you have no idea what he put me through.”

“Yes I do. He’s told me a few things.”

Great. Complete, utter humiliation. Brody knew all about her past, all about her father, the drunken ex-con. She didn’t want his pity or his sympathy. And that’s what she would inevitably get. Blindly, she turned to go.

She felt his hand on her arm, and tried to shake it off. But that strong grip wasn’t going anywhere.

“He’s trying hard now. I’ve seen how hard.”

“So?” She tugged her arm, but couldn’t free it.

“You could try a little open-mindedness.”

Last straw. Melissa spun around to face him. How dare he lecture her? Before she realized it, her free arm swung toward him, and her hand flew toward his cheek.

He stopped her just in time, with a hard grip on her wrist. “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe I am. Maybe it’s in the genes.” Everything she’d tried to put behind her rose up like a horror movie. Just like the old days, when she’d live in dread of her father ruining everything. “I look like him, don’t I? That’s what everyone used to say. Along with things like alkie’s girl . . . white trash . . . welfare brat . . .”

“Stop that!” He gave her a shake. “You’re none of those things.”

“You probably despise me now. Who knows what he’s said about me.” Tears pricked the backs of her eyelids. She couldn’t stand the thought of Brody, the legendary captain, the arrogant commander of men, knowing about her past.

“You’ve got it all wrong.” He cupped her face in his warm hands and tilted it so she couldn’t avoid his gaze. “You’re the reason he’s working so hard. He talks about you all the time. You’re a . . . jewel.”

Her breath caught in a hiccup. The look in those charcoal eyes made her suddenly go weak. Everything seemed to stop as they faced each other, only inches apart. Tiny details jumped out at her. The bits of sawdust caught in his dark eyebrows. The warmth of his body, so close to hers. The clean, spicy smell of his shampoo, buried under the scents of sweat and wood dust. The specks of silver lighting the unusual gray of his eyes. She leaned in, as though in a trance, and softly put her lips to his. He stood very still, but she felt his chest rising and falling with his quickening breath.

This wasn’t like the other times. Before, they’d been crazed, out of control. This time, they moved at a deliberate pace that said,
I know exactly what I’m doing, I like it, and I’m not going to stop.
Feeling the gentle pressure of his mouth, she opened her lips, letting his tongue spread sweet wildfire along her tender inner flesh.

This man was not like other men, she thought as her skin shivered and her bones melted. He affected her in a way no one ever had. If she let him in, her life would never be the same.

Her father’s footsteps sounded on the pathway. They pulled apart, even though it physically hurt to withdraw from him. She fought to regain her balance.

“We really need to stay away from doors,” she said with a shaky laugh.

He chuckled, his muscles moving under her hands. How had her hands gotten onto his chest? She didn’t move them away.

“Melissa, how would you like to—”

Before Brody could finish his sentence, Melissa felt a tap on her shoulder. She quickly dropped her hands from that tempting bare chest.

“You two know each other?” Haskell asked warily. “Or should I punch him out?”

“I know him.” Melissa stepped away from Brody. “We’re working together on a project.”

Haskell looked from one to the other, but made no comment. “Don’t know what Ma’s up to, or if she’s just confused, but my truck’s fine.”

Melissa groaned. “Did she know you were working for Captain Brody?”

“Well, I guess. Told her when I picked her up.”

Melissa’s face flamed. “I’m really sorry, Captain Brody. You know my grandmother’s crazy ideas.”

“She’s determined, I’ll give her that.” She couldn’t read his expression.

Her father cleared his throat. “Melissa, sorry if I told Ma too much.” He looked so miserable she softened.