The Fireman Who Loved Me (26 page)

Brody.
Brody had scowled at her when she’d blanked out on her speech. She wanted to yell and scream at him. Pound her fists into his broad chest. Tackle him to the floor. Instead she addressed the boy at his side. “Thanks for coming, Rodrigo. How are you doing?”

“A lot better. I got a new foster family. The captain knows them.”

“They’re good people,” said Brody.

“The captain came for dinner, and he told me about your grandmother, and asked me if I wanted to come today. I’m really sorry.”

“Thanks,” she said, managing a smile. While she’d been buried under the bedcovers, Brody had been watching out for Rodrigo. She made herself meet his eyes. “And thanks, Brody.”

“How are you holding up?” he asked, the warm gray of his gaze making her shiver.

“Pretty good. Except for forgetting my speech.”

“Beautiful poem, though.”

“I suppose it could have been worse. I could have set the lectern on fire.”

A crack of laughter from Brody sent heads turning. “It would have been a nice tribute.”

“Yes, and I would have been perfectly safe, with so many firemen here. That’s thanks to you, I hear.”

He shook his head. “It was their idea. Your grandmother made a big impression on us. She won’t be forgotten.” He bent over and kissed her cheek, and he and Rodrigo moved on. When Brody shepherded Rodrigo out of the chapel, it seemed as if the light suddenly dimmed.

As the endless procession of well-wishers continued, all Melissa could think about was that kiss. No, not a kiss. A peck on the cheek. What did that mean? Was it all Rebecca would allow? Was it a sisterly, friendly kind of kiss? Or did it mean he still had some feeling for her? He couldn’t exactly get passionate at a memorial.

The rest of the event passed in a blur, except for one cryptic comment from Ryan. He too kissed her on the cheek—his kiss left no tingle—and as he did so he whispered in her ear, “Happy days are here again. You-know-who is gone.”

She drew back, shocked. Was he referring to her grandmother? Ryan fumbled an apology. “That’s not what I . . . Oh geez . . . I was talking about
her
, you know . . .”

Vader elbowed him aside. Ryan wandered off, still mumbling under his breath.

Much later, when she was back home soaking in a hot bath, Melissa felt Nelly rapping her on the head.

Why don’t you listen to Ryan, if you won’t listen to me?

“What now? I’m trying to take a bath.”

Don’t you remember what I said back at the hospital? About the other one being gone?

The hospital. Nelly talking about Alice May. Saying how “the other one” was gone.

In a flash, the pieces came together. How had she been so dense? “The other one” was Rebecca. Nelly had gotten the names confused. She’d been talking about Rebecca. Rebecca was gone. So why hadn’t Brody come to her? Explained that she’d left? Taken Melissa into his arms and kissed her senseless? Thrown her on the bed and ravaged her? What was stopping him?

Everett.
Was that Nelly talking, or her own brain? Didn’t matter. The answer was so obvious she didn’t know how she’d missed it. Her grief must have distracted her.

Don’t go blaming it on me.

“Sorry, Grans. Now shush, I’m trying to figure this out.”

How could Brody possibly think for one second that she would go back to that rat Everett? It was true that she’d never explained about Everett’s kiss. There hadn’t seemed any point, when he was back together with Rebecca. Besides, the kiss meant absolutely nothing.

But did Brody know that?

She went over everything that had happened since that kiss. Brody had helped her get Rodrigo to the ER. Found a new foster home for him. Carried Nelly away from the fire in the backyard. Helped Melissa during those agonizing hours at the hospital. Fixed her roof.

Don’t forget my memorial service.

Right. He’d called Haskell about Nelly’s service, and spread the word among his crew. And Brody had done all these things even while believing she was back together with Everett. He’d done them because he cared about her. Because she was grieving and couldn’t do them for herself. He’d done them quietly, in the background. Not for attention, or for glory. He’d only wanted to help her.

Maybe he didn’t write epic poetry or recite Tarantino films by heart, but Brody was the best man she’d ever known. And she loved him with all her heart.

What did he feel for her? Her father’s words came back to her. “Don’t go thinking you aren’t worth anything.”

She stood up in the bathtub, letting the water stream off her body. There was only one way to find out what Brody felt for her. One last time, she addressed her grandmother.

“Yes, I know, Grans. Time to go fight for my man.”

Chapter Twenty-six

B
ut first she had to take care of a few other things. She visited Rodrigo at his new foster home and was thrilled to see how well he’d settled in. He looked bright-eyed and full of excitement about his new life—new family, new school, new friends.

He showed her his bedroom, decorated with posters of soccer players and death metal bands. The tidiness of the room seemed almost poignant, as if he was afraid he’d have to leave if he made a mess. In time, she hoped, he’d relax and finally feel secure.

She sat on the edge of the bed while he showed her his new Wii console. “Rodrigo, how do you feel about the story now? Maybe you’d rather let the past go, and focus on your schoolwork, and all your new buddies.”

“No,” he said fiercely. “I want to do the story.”

“Your foster mother’s been charged for what she did to you. The other foster kids have been taken away from that house. No one will ever be sent there again. I promise you.”

He thought that over. “It’s not enough. People should know about the bribes.”

“It might be hard for you. Reliving what happened. Having your friends know.”

He ducked his head, twisted his hands together. “If we don’t do the story, then I got beaten up for nothing. Are you backing out?”

“No,” she said quickly. “I’m not backing out. I’ve been a little distracted since my grandmother died, but I’m back now, and if you want me to do the story, I’d like nothing better. But I had to see how you felt.”

“That’s how I feel,” he said with a determined nod.

Her next stop was Bill Loudon’s office. She sat across from his desk while he eyed her with sympathetic, watery eyes.

“Melissa, if you want your job back, we have a lot of details to work out. I’ve already given your former title to Blaine, and we’ve had some cutbacks since you left. I know what Ella told you, and what she promised. No matter what she said, I can’t bring you back at your old salary, I’m sorry to say.”

“Loudon, you can take my old salary and shove it.”

“My, my,” he said, surprised. “Full of sass today, aren’t you.”

“Did Ella talk to you about the foster care investigation? ‘Innocence Betrayed: Fraud in the Foster Care System’? She’s pretty set on doing it. If I take it to Los Angeles, she’ll throw a fit like you’ve never seen.”

“Ella Joy doesn’t run this news department.”

“That would be news to her,” said Melissa dryly. “She may not run it, but if she wants something, I sure wouldn’t bet against her.”

Loudon wiped his weary eyes. “She has a bug up her ass about this story. God help me if I can understand it.”

“Never underestimate the fury of a woman scorned. She’s doing the story, Loudon. Just accept it. Besides, you don’t want Los Angeles horning in on our territory, do you?”

He sighed. “Hardball, huh? So where does this put you? I have to find another title for you?”

“Don’t bother. I found my own title.”

He eyed her warily. “I feel a gastrointestinal attack coming on.”

“Independent producer. Executive producer of any story I bring you. Complete freedom to pursue any investigations, plus complete access to Channel Six’s resources. You get right of first refusal on any story I do. Ella gets to choose which stories she wants to front. If she passes, I will front it myself. You pay me by the story.”

And she named her amount. Loudon couldn’t deny it was fair—respectable, but not greedy. “You can afford that?”

“My Grans left me a little money.” In fact, it was more than a little. Nelly had divided everything equally between Haskell and Melissa, but Haskell had instantly signed it all over to Melissa. Of course she‘d protested, but her father hadn’t budged.

“I don’t need it, and it’s better if I don’t have it. Nothing but trouble in my hands. I’ll leave it all to you when I shove off anyway. You’ll make good use of it, I know.” She’d given him a long hug, her first since the age of ten.

“There’s one catch,” said Loudon.

Melissa waited. Her dream job was so close . . .

“Ella’s leaving the station when her contract’s up in two months.”

“Really?” She vaguely remembered Ella mentioning a plan at Nelly’s memorial service.

“She’s making the jump to Los Angeles.”

“Everett actually hired her?”

“No, no. She’s going to the competition. If she gets them two extra ratings points, they’ll beat FOX News.”

Melissa’s head spun just thinking of the implications. Ella versus Everett in the ratings. Ella
with
Everett in bed. Everett with Barb in bed. Barb versus Ella in the ratings. Any way you added it up, Everett was screwed. And not in the good way.

Not her problem. “I guess I’ll front my own stories then. I think I proved myself with the City Hall fire.”

“I can live with that, unless whoever replaces Ella wants to front one.”

“Deal.”

“Good.”

“And that brings me to my final condition,” continued Melissa.

“Will it never end?” Loudon wiped his gloomy eyes.

“I never got to do that story about the Bachelor Firemen of San Gabriel. I did some research and shot some footage. I’d like that story to be my first report.”

“Are you teasing me?”

“No.”

“You’re stringing me along, aren’t you?” He popped a pale green antacid into his mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“You really want your first story to be about the dismal living conditions of elderly immigrant Hmong who don’t speak English and need to be subtitled.”

Melissa had to laugh. “Maybe that’s next. For now, how about some gorgeous, heroic, single firemen.”

Loudon wiped his eyes. “Melissa, you are, hands down, the best producer I’ve ever worked with.”

Serious or not, she’d take that compliment. Melissa briskly shook his hand, left his office, and let out the breath she’d been holding. It was like a miracle. No more news meetings. No more newsroom politics. No more Ella wrangling. No more hiding in the background. She’d do the stories she wanted to do, when she wanted to do them. Except that it wasn’t a miracle—it was called standing up for herself. Fighting for what she wanted.

She stopped by Ella’s office on her way out. No matter how irritating, egotistical, and shamelessly ambitious Ella was, Melissa owed her a debt of gratitude for . . . well, for being Ella. She wasn’t in yet, so Melissa wrote her a quick note. Chang interrupted. “Some security guard’s gonna get fired. Who let you back in the building?”

“Special invitation. Get used to it, babe.”

He stared. “Seriously, are you back? What’s the haps? Is you in or is you out?”

“Stay tuned for another turn of the Sunny Side of the News.”

“Ha ha.”

“Tell Ella to call me when she gets in.”

“C’mon, Melissa, I got to feed something to the grapevine.”

“Tell them I may be looking for some freelance help, production and editorial, so if anyone needs extra cash, they should get in touch with me.”

After she’d finished editing the bachelor story, she went down to the studio and taped her intro and wrap-up.

When she’d finished taping, she went home and waited.

A
n electrical fire at an old walnut farm outside town kept most of San Gabriel Fire Station 1 busy that night. Brody, Ryan, and Double D were the only firefighters in the lounge when the
Eleven O’Clock News
started. When he heard the familiar theme song begin, Brody went to lift weights. The last few days, everything associated with Melissa had become painful and tender, like a fresh bruise.

His plan to wait wasn’t working at all. For one thing, he thought about her all the time. At the memorial service, he’d seen the lost, dazed look in her eyes and longed to take her in his arms and soothe away her pain. When she’d blanked out at the lectern, it had taken all his strength not to rush up there and whisk her away. How long was he supposed to wait? A week? A month? A year? What if Melissa forgot about him while he was patiently waiting?

The newscast was halfway over when Brody heard a shout from the TV room.

“Captain, get back in here!” called Ryan. Grumbling, sweaty, Brody stalked back to the TV room and stopped at the sight of Melissa’s face filling the screen. At the bottom of the screen was a banner that read, “The Bachelor Firemen of San Gabriel.”

For a moment, Brody was so riveted by the sight of Melissa the way he remembered her, he didn’t notice what she was saying. The old Melissa was back. Her eyes glowed forest-green, her full lips smiled. Even with her horn-rimmed glasses, her beauty seemed to leap off the screen. Why did she wear glasses, when it didn’t matter one way or the other? With them or without them, she was beautiful and brilliant.

Finally he tuned in to her words.

“. . . my research into the history of San Gabriel Fire Station 1 does raise a few questions about the supposed curse. Parts of the legend are true. San Gabriel does have an unusual number of unmarried firemen. Oddly, that’s been true since the turn of the last century. Whether or not San Gabriel’s firefighters are more or less good-looking than average, I’ll leave it to you viewers to decide.”

The camera panned over a group of firemen stripped to their T-shirts, hosing down Engine 1.

“In this reporter’s very biased opinion, you’d have to search a long time to find firefighters as attractive as ours. Of course, looks aren’t everything. I’ve been lucky enough to spend time with the San Gabriel firemen, and I can personally vouch for their above-average skill, courage, daring, team spirit, and thoughtfulness.”

A close-up of Ryan clapping Vader on the shoulder came next.

“So you might well wonder, why are so many of these outstanding men still single? Is there truth to the curse after all? The results of my investigation are inconclusive, but I have formed a working theory. Unlike the original Bachelor Fireman, Virgil Rush, San Gabriel firemen don’t remain bachelors all their lives. They do fall in love and marry. But just like Virgil, their path to true love seems to be rockier than the norm. So, ladies, I hope you’ll follow my example. If you fall for one of these men, fasten your seat belts because you’re in for a bumpy ride. But take it from me, they’re worth it.” She winked. “Melissa McGuire, reporting for the Sunny Side of the News.”

Brody couldn’t move. He couldn’t stop staring at the TV screen, which now showed a commercial for some cleaning product. Ryan and Double D whooped. “She’s talking about you, Captain!” yelled Ryan.

“Ain’t no doubt,” agreed Double D. “Didn’t know Hollywood had it in her.”

“What are you going to do?”

What was he going to do? Getting his body to move would be the first step. He mumbled something to his firefighters about paging him in an emergency, and ran to his turnout.

His turnout? He didn’t question it. He pulled on his pants and coat, and thrust his feet into his boots. Feeling like the Michelin Man, he squeezed behind the wheel of his truck. As he drove, he thought about how brave Melissa was to go on TV and bare her heart the way she had. She’d always said she didn’t want to be on the air. But she’d been perfect. She’d almost sounded like . . . well, like Nelly. Maybe Nelly had left behind a little of her own fearlessness. Or maybe Melissa had it all along.

Just before midnight, he knocked on her door. For a long moment, no one answered and he waited alone in the cool, jasmine-scented moonlight. Then the door opened and Melissa appeared. He had a blurred impression of dark hair pouring over bare shoulders and green eyes blinking at him in surprise.

“You’re in your turnout gear,” she said blankly.

“You wore your glasses,” he answered nonsensically.

“They help me think straight.”

“Likewise.”

They stared at each other. “I saw the news,” he finally said, and thought he saw her blush.

“Will you please take that off? I can’t talk to you like this,” she said, gesturing at his turnout.

“Why not?”

“It makes my knees go all weak and funny.”

He threw down his jacket, pushed the suspenders off his shoulders, and stepped out of his gear. Down to T-shirt and shorts, he swept her into his arms. She felt so good there, he wanted to stay like that forever. “Better?”

She buried her head in his chest. “Oh, Brody. I’ve been so stupid. I shouldn’t have yelled at you about the roof.”

“You were grieving.”

“I didn’t know Rebecca was gone. It was torture seeing you there.”

His arms tightened even further around her. “I’m sorry for that. I thought she still needed my help. It’s hard for me to walk away from that.”

“Because you’re so honorable. You took care of Rodrigo.”

“You’re the one who gave him a chance.”

“I’m trying to apologize!”

“Well, stop.” But he stopped her himself, with a long kiss, deep as the ocean, warm as the sun.

Nestled in his strong arms, with his steadfast heart beating against hers, Melissa’s head spun with joy. “Rebecca’s really gone?” she whispered when his lips finally left hers.

“I got hold of the man she really loves. And who loves her. They’re good together. Not like—” He broke off.

Melissa had her own confession to make. “Everett’s gone too. What you saw in the newsroom . . .” But she couldn’t think of the best way to explain it.

Once again, Brody saved her. “Does he still want you? Because if he does, I’ll fight him for you. I’m a peaceful man, but I think I could kick his ass.”

“Really?” The idea of Brody beating up Everett was so appealing that she giggled. “That’s okay. I think Ella might take care of that for us.”

“She’s just the man for the job.”

“Oh Brody, I do love you so.”

He cradled her face in his hands, rubbed a rough thumb across her cheek. “Do you? Because you know I’m a simple, old-fashioned man. If someone tells me they love me, my next thought is flower girls and reception halls.”

She couldn’t speak. What did he feel toward her? He still hadn’t said. And she couldn’t help it. She needed to hear it out loud. She was a journalist, after all. Words mattered to her. Right now she felt like she’d stripped herself naked—in front of a man in uniform.

“You know I put this gear on without even thinking. I only figured out why just now.”