Twilight (43 page)
Rob raised his brows to Cal. “That right?”
Cal shrugged. “It’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“One thing we’ve learned is that safety education makes our job easier. I’d like to expand what Cal’s done so far and make it a cooperative effort. So any volunteers, see Cal Morrison. Cal, see me.”
Cal met his gaze. Was he hearing correctly? Had Frank and the department and the city of Montrose actually validated his work as fireclown? He stood holding the ax as one firefighter after another gripped his shoulder, patted his back, welcomed, and ribbed him on their way out.
“Upstairs, Cal.” Frank directed with his head.
Cal followed, entered the office, and waited as Frank closed the door.
“I didn’t intend to spring that on you like that, but I just got verification that it made it through the budget committee, and I thought all the gang should know it’s now an official program.”
“So what exactly is the program?”
“That’s up to you. It’s your baby. I know you wanted back on the line, and I’ll rotate you in as necessary. But what you do with the kids and the elderly and, frankly, what you do representing the department at city functions, is of more importance than any of us imagined when we cooked up this scheme.”
He and Cal and Rita. Cal felt a twinge of bitterness.
“I got more letters, I think, than Danson on the subject. Cal, you’re a hero in a lot of people’s eyes.”
“You have a hero complex.”
Maybe he did. Maybe this was what he lived for. To be there when people needed him. To risk what other’s wouldn’t risk. Wasn’t he the only one who went in after Ashley Trainor?
But what if he could do the same by teaching them, even the little ones, how to be safe? That’s what he’d believed in, clung to, while he bore the smirks and sneers of the Perrys of the department. If he could develop a program that was entertaining enough to hold their interest while ingraining the safety rules, there might not be the need to go in. Not as often anyway.
Cal watched Frank work the chewing gum with his tongue, then blow a pink bubble that popped loudly. “You work up a program, Cal, and I’ll see it implemented in every city from here to Kansas.”
“What about the line?”
“Like I said, I’ll use you. You know there are times I’ll need to. But Perry’s coming along. He’s nowhere near as boneheaded as before. Rob’s gotten used to giving orders. We’ll make do.” He switched the gum to his cheek. “I believe in this, and Montrose wants it.”
It was good to hear. Cal had suspected that in the back of his mind Frank had dismissed the benefit of Spanner and company. That it was a make-do until Cal could come back to his real work. Cal pinched the pink stress head on Frank’s desk. “And Rita?”
Frank raised his brows, looking more than ever like the Munchkin Mayor. “Don’t know. I haven’t heard from her lately.”
Probably not since she’d recommended his suspension from duty. Cal nodded. “What’s on the docket today?”
“You and Rob. Just to get you back in the swing. ‘A’ shift all week. Once you’ve worked the rust off, you can start on the puppets or whatever you decide to do with this project.”
Cal grinned. “As I told Perry, Rocky stays.”
“Fine. But, Cal?” Frank raised his pen like a poker. “Try not to show Perry up too bad. I do need him on the line.”
Cal saluted. He went downstairs and saw that all but a few of the men had gone home. He joined Rob in the lounge. Glancing briefly across, he pulled the clipboard down from the wall and studied the schedule. “I’m ‘A’ shift with you all week.”
“I know.”
“You okay with that?”
“What do you think?” Rob went to the coffeepot.
“I’d like to hear you say it.”
Rob poured a cup.
Cal kept on, not sure what he was trying to prove. “This job’s as much in the head as anything. Gotta know you can trust your partner with your life.”
Rob drank. “I trust you.”
“How’s it been with Perry?”
Rob took a seat at the table. “Perry’s all right.” He looked up. “You weren’t an easy act to follow.”
“Yeah. Especially the shakes and twitches.”
“Especially that you went in when no one else dared. Not even me—speaking of trust … partner.”
Catching Rob’s meaning, Cal leaned on the wall. Had Rob’s guilt over not supporting his partner been the real cause of separation? Cal hadn’t even considered dragging Rob in with him. It was his own decision to disobey, to try in spite of the risk. “You might not be sitting here if you had.”
Rob stared into the cup, then looked up. “Next time I’ll be there.”
Cal’s throat tightened with emotion. He nodded, then went to the coffeepot himself. “What do you say we do a polish job on ‘old Susie’ there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That wasn’t an order.”
Rob laughed. “Just responding to the voice of authority.” Cal poured a cup. “Was that ax thing your idea?”
“Sort of.”
“Thanks.” His chest swelled—not with pride in the honor, but pleasure in the gift. Friendship was definitely up there with food and water.
They hadn’t even started to clean up the truck when Rob took the dispatch call. “Man down, fourth and Elm.”
An unconscious person, no time to waste. “Let’s hit it.” Cal took the wheel as Rob opened the door, leapt in beside him, and hit the siren. As he pulled out of the station, the adrenaline surged his system. He was back, and this was living.
Life. God had given him life. Not just the eternal one Reggie had meant, but purpose in this one as well. As they approached the corner, Cal saw a huddled group on the frozen lawn before the bank.
“There’s our man down. Can you make anything out?”
Rob leaned to the window as Cal maneuvered the vehicle. The group opened as they pulled to a stop, and Rob leapt out. Cal secured the truck, allowing Rob to get the preliminaries. Within seconds he joined him.
“Cyanotic blue,” Rob said, indicating the bluish discoloration of skin and lips.
Cal could see the victim’s breathing was fast and abnormally deep, his limbs stiff. Even as he dropped to the man’s side, the breathing stopped. “Bag him.”
As Rob ran for the equipment, Cal reached into the patient’s mouth and checked the airway. No obstruction, but excess saliva. Rob was back with the Ambu bag. He attached the valve mask to the man’s face and squeezed rhythmically until the victim’s lungs took over, then Rob removed the Ambu bag and replaced it with an oxygen mask. “He’s pinking up.”
“Diaphoretic.” Cal felt the cold, clamminess of the skin, noted excess sweat, fast pulse. He pulled the eyelids up. “Pinpoint pupils.” He looked up at the spectators. “How long has he been unconscious?”
“Twenty minutes maybe,” Tom Wilson, the bank guard, answered. “He was in line at the bank, then got disoriented and disruptive. His speech was slurred. I thought he was drunk.” He glanced around the group. “I told him to leave, and he came out here and sat down, kind of jerky. Just sat there. I was going to call the police if he didn’t move on soon.”
As the man talked Cal pulled up the patient’s sleeve and found the diabetic bracelet. He nodded to Rob to continue monitoring the man’s ABCs, then opened his med kit and started an IV. Besides Frank, Cal was the only one on the force with standing orders from Doctor Klein to administer IV drugs, but it was Ringer’s lactate and D 50 sugar solution he delivered now. He didn’t need a dextrose stick to identify a hypoglycemic diabetic coma. Especially with Tom Wilson describing the preliminary symptoms.
Tom shrugged. “I got busy, then happened to look outside. He’d fallen over and didn’t respond when I shook him, so I thought I ought to get you guys.”
Cal nodded to Rob. “Call the ambulance.” Cal had a good flow from the IV bag going into the patient’s arm. It should be only minutes before he responded, even though things had progressed to a dangerous point. Much longer and they’d be looking at brain damage.
Rob climbed into the cab to radio Melbourne and give the details to the paramedics en route. By the time he climbed down, the patient was stirring. His eyes flickered open, but Cal could see his disorientation. “Welcome back, buddy. Lie calm now. Transportation’s on the way.” Rob covered him with a blanket as Cal asked, “Have you eaten today?”
Lots of things could contribute to high insulin in a diabetic, a skipped meal, an infection, a drug interaction. Cal was more interested in getting the man to talk than in his answer, since he was already administering the solution.
The man looked from him to Rob, then at the crowd standing around. “What happened?”
“Blood sugar got low. Very low. Do you have trouble monitoring it?”
Definite confusion. Cal hoped the patient’s brain was only temporarily dysfunctional, though the hippocampus, the part responsible for memory, was especially susceptible to damage from lack of blood sugar and oxygen.
“Can you give me your name?”
“David.” The speech was still thick, sluggish but the answer cognizant. The bracelet had said David Miller.
“David, we’re going to make you comfortable until the ambulance gets here.” While he talked, he took out a dextrose test kit and checked the man’s blood sugar level. Though he hadn’t done a preliminary test since the symptoms indicated immediate treatment, he could assume the reading had risen dramatically.
As Rob slipped a folded blanket under David’s head, Cal tucked the cover blanket under his sides between the man’s body and the frozen ground. In a minute they’d let him sit, but he wanted to get more oxygen to the brain first.
Cal smiled up at Tom Wilson. “A lot of conditions resemble drunkenness. It’s usually wise to go ahead and give us a call. Anything strange could be a medical impairment.”
Tom nodded. “Yes, I can see that.”
The crowd started drifting away. Cal loved that. The urgency of catastrophe drew them like flies, but the resolution was not exciting enough to hold them. They’d go off and say they’d seen a man fall into a coma, but Cal would recall bringing him out.
When the ambulance arrived from Melbourne, Cal handed off the information he’d gathered and the treatment he’d already given. As he repacked his med kit, he mentally disengaged. David was in their care now. Stepping back, he watched for a moment, then nodded to Rob. They climbed into the truck and fired up the engine. Cal drove back to the station while Rob filled in the report.
As the truck eased into the garage, Rob tucked the clipboard under his arm and eyed Cal. “Feel good?”
Cal set the brake and turned off the key. “Feels great.”
“Nothing like saving a life to start off your day.”
No, there wasn’t. Cal rested his wrists on the wheel and basked in it. Maybe God knew what He was doing after all. Maybe there wasn’t room in his life for anything but this. He offered up a silent thanks.
“And by the way, Cal, you took charge back there.”
Cal stopped with the truck door half open. “Guess I did. Old habits …”
Rob swung down. “Well, if the shoe fits …”
“I think I’ll be wearing a few shoes now.”
Rob leaned against the locker. “I’d never admit this in front of the others, but I think you did a great job of education. I even thought Rocky was funny.”
Cal grinned. “Rocky is funny. And there’s a place for Spanner too. Education is a good thing. There’s no replacement for it.”
“You certainly convinced someone. Funding? From the budget committee? You’ve got clout.”
Cal shrugged. What Rob didn’t know was that Cal had nothing at all to do with it.
W
E PARDON TO THE EXTENT
THAT WE LOVE.
François, Duc de La Rochefoucauld
T
HE BIG SURPRISE WAS PERRY volunteering to help build the sets.” Cal sprawled on Reggie’s olive green couch. In just two month’s time he’d developed four safety education shows and was scheduled in three cities to demonstrate the pilot program to the fire departments there.
Reggie nodded, his lower lip protruding thoughtfully. “It’s amazing how funding a program legitimizes it.”
“You can say that again. I’ve gone from laughingstock to idol.” Cal scratched the side of his leg where the skin was still dry from the burns.
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
Cal reached down and picked up the football he and Reggie had tossed outside earlier. He fingered the laces. “I know how I got there, Reg. Even though I don’t get the shakes or hear the screams, I still remember. Sometimes I dream.”
“So God left you enough to keep you humble.”
“You could say that.” Cal tossed him the ball. “What’s the word on Smilin’ Sal?”
Reggie’s big hands covered the ball like a net. He lined the fingers of his left hand along the laces and tossed it. “She went home.”
“Yeah?” Cal hadn’t realized Reggie was a southpaw until he’d thrown, though he must have seen him write and eat a hundred times. “That’s great.” He rolled the ball off his fingers in a smooth lateral.
Reggie caught it and lowered the ball to his lap. “You seen Rita?”
“No.” Cal closed in, shutting down at just the thought of her. She’d stabbed him in the back, turned on him when he needed her most. Though he didn’t actively despise her, he certainly hadn’t sought her out.
“She asked about you. Wednesday, I guess it was.”
Cal didn’t answer.
“You could talk to her.”
“She knows where to find me.” Cal touched his ribs, healed but tender still, like the wound Rita had given him.
“You could forgive her.”
“There’s nothing to forgive.” Cal met Reggie’s eyes. “She did what she felt professionally obligated to do. It’s not her fault the rest of the town thought otherwise.”
“A little thing can lodge inside, like a splinter, harmless in itself until it starts to fester.”
“I don’t bear her a grudge.” Cal got up and walked to the window. “We all do what we have to.”
“Then talk to her. Let her know that.”
Cal looked out at the crumbling walk, the brown February landscape, the tiny houses across the street. He always felt like an oversized doll in a block village when he came there. Especially after knocking around at Mildred’s. Alice shrinking and growing in the oddest way.
