Miss Bernie wore a wide-brimmed straw hat with a purple scarf trailing off the back. She continued pulling weeds from around the tomato plants as if Mitch wasn’t there. Pearls of sweat dripped from her petite nose.
It dawned on Mitch that purple was everywhere. “Miss Bernie, you sure like purple a lot.”
“Umm-hmm. Color of hope. Used to be green lawns, flowers, an’ houses painted all colors around here. Kids everywhere. Working folks coming and going at all hours to A.O.Smith. My daddy welded car frames there until they started shuttin’ down. Jobs dried up. Daddy didn’t last long after they laid him off. He took to the bottle ’til it took him.”
“Sorry, Miss Bernie.”
“Think about what I told you?”
“I do want to help those kids. I don’t know how though.”
Miss Bernie stopped pulling weeds and faced him. “Mitch, you smart and you got a gift. If it wasn’t for you schoolin’ him, Jamal would never got through training. You see, you use your gift to lift him. And I love you for that, Mitch Garner.” She draped her sweaty arms around him. “You give my boy his pride back.”
He tried to remember what his mother’s hugs felt like.
Miss Bernie held him at arm’s length. “You want that devil out your head, figure a way to lift those children like you did Jamal.”
Chapter 17
Over the next two days, Mitch struggled for ideas on how to get the children to come back and still had nothing when he reported for duty. Nic met him at the front of the rig wearing sandals, tight black shorts, and a white lace blouse knotted across her slim waist. “Interested?” she asked as she swayed her bottom at him.
“In what?”
“Tell me you’re not that dense.”
Nic kept him off balance. Some days she ignored him and other days acted like she wanted to jump his bones. As much as he missed Jennie, he couldn’t help fantasizing about what it would be like with Nic.
“I’m leaving for Cancun this morning. Shame you can’t come along.”
Before he could think of anything clever to say, she was gone.
Mitch spent the quiet morning mowing the firehouse lawn and anguishing over what to do about the kids. Jasmine and Alexus lived across from the firehouse, so he saw them come and go. If he was outside he waved. Alexus always waved back, but Jasmine ignored him and hurried Alexus along. On occasion, Mitch saw their mom’s boyfriend leave the house wearing a long trench coat, no matter how hot the weather. Jasmine’s mom usually came home late in the evening. She walked bent like she was climbing a steep hill.
Alexus burst onto the porch and hopped down the steps. Jasmine was right behind. He had to do something now. He sprinted across the street and knelt in front of Alexus. “Hi, Lexi, when you coming back to do some more coloring?”
“We can’t come no more.”
“I thought we were having fun.”
Alexus looked up to Jasmine.
Jasmine glared at Mitch. “Get your honky ass back across the street.”
“At least tell me why the kids won’t come around.”
“Told them not to.”
“Why’d you tell them that?”
“Lexus, go back inside.” Alexus ran into the house.
“You ignorant motherfucker. You fucked my shit up when you turn me in. Momma still paying for that stupid window. She working two shifts at the laundry to pay it off, leaving us alone with that worthless crackhead of hers. So I got no time for your silly-assed shit.”
Through the fury and foul language, there was sadness in her green eyes.
Mitch tried to think of something to say before she marched off.
“I didn’t do nothing to your truck.” Jasmine was on the verge of tears. “I was just hanging with those kids when they did it. Ain’t right I got to take the shit for it.”
“Why didn’t you tell the cops?”
“You are ignorant. I tell them who did it, I end up like my sister.”
“What happened to your sister?”
The rage drained from her face. “Don’t matter.”
Miss Bernie’s words came back to him. “They just dying slower.”
“Jasmine, would you get those kids back if I paid your mom for my window?”
She studied Mitch. “What I got to do? You one of those sick dudes into young girls?”
“No, no, no. Jesus, no. I feel bad you got blamed. That wasn’t right. I can see it was my fault for being such a cracker.” He grinned, hoping to convince her.
Her lips curled into a slight smile. “You a cracker all right.”
“We got a deal?” Mitch asked.
She cocked her head and twisted the cheap silver-colored necklace between her thumb and finger. “How I know I can trust you?”
“Seems like I’m the only one who has anything to lose. Your mom could take my money and leave me hanging.”
“Damn, you’re ignorant. I catch serious shit if word gets on the street I’m helping some honky-assed fireman.”
“What about helping the kids?”
“From what I seen, you ain’t so good with kids.”
“We got a deal?”
Mitch noticed flecks of gold in her emerald eyes as she studied him. “I got to kick it around some.” She went to the porch and hollered, “Lexus, c’mon, we goin’.”
“Okay. Let me know,” Mitch said to her back.
* * *
Mitch waited by the front door, watching their house. At three-thirty he gave up and went to the kitchen to help Kenny. He dreaded telling Miss Bernie the kids wouldn’t come back.
After supper, he took some study materials outside to the worn bench in front of the firehouse. Mitch stretched out and soaked in the laughter and shouts of children playing in the vast, empty lot behind the firehouse. Rusted abandoned cars, appliances, and piles of junk served as their jungle gyms. It could be the laughter of children anywhere. The smell of fresh-cut grass in the still air masked the stench of hopelessness.
Mitch closed his eyes and pictured lush green fields of ripening corn with golden tassels. He missed the smell of the farm, the smell of life. And Jennie. He ached to gaze into her soft brown eyes and to feel her body pressed against him.
The vision of the farm faded and he opened his eyes, focusing on the girls’ house. The roof was missing shingles. The porch had holes and badly warped boards. One step was completely missing. The bleached gray siding showed no sign of what color it had once been. The dying house screamed for attention.
* * *
Mitch spent the next day off consumed by thoughts of Jasmine. He felt awful about causing her so much misery. He’d make it right somehow. The steamy August afternoon forced Mitch outside to the porch swing.
“Sup, little bro?” Jamal said from the sidewalk, carrying a twelve pack of Miller Light. “Thought you could use a taste.” Jamal bounded up the steps.
Miss Bernie was inside. A heart-rending version of Without You was blaring from the television.
Jamal clinked his can against Mitch’s. “Here’s to you, Firefighter Garner.”
“And to you, Firefighter Jackson.” Mitch snapped the pop tab and took a sip. “Your mom’s not happy with me.”
“Don’t feel like you the only one. Thinks I need me a family. Right now I’m a popular man. Got me light skins and dark skins waiting for me to sample the goods. Don’t care much for those bony-assed bitches though, prefer a thick girl. I mean look at the size of me. What would I do with one a those lollipops?”
Jamal took a long swallow and belched. “What’s up with that lanky girl from back home?”
“Messed that up, bad.”
“Then get your ass out there and get yourself a little sumpin sumpin. I know some light skins wouldn’t mind getting under a white boy.”
Jamal’s roaring laughter had Mitch laughing along.
“You boys keep it down,” Miss Bernie said from inside. “I’m trying to hear this.”
Mitch leaned toward Jamal so Miss Bernie co
uldn’t hear. “There’s a smoking hot firefighter on the blue shift who seems interested, but I can’t tell if she’s just screwing with me.”
“Then put your game on her.”
“I don’t know. I want to get back together with Jen.”
“Don’t tell her.”
“I can’t lie.”
“You best tap that smoking booty before she loses interest.”
A captivating voice coming from the television caught their attention. The audience erupted in applause. The announcer said, “Kelly Clarkson, ladies and gentlemen.”
“What’s Momma preaching on you about?”
“I told her I don’t think the kids are coming back. You know, the ones I’m supposed to tutor? Said I needed to figure something out.”
“She’ll keep pecking at you ’til you do.”
* * *
After Jamal left, Mitch drove to North Avenue and parked a block from the Laundromat where Jasmine’s mom works. She usually walked home around eleven.
He recognized her by the way she walked, bent, her shoulders stooped. He stepped in front of the stout bulldog of a woman as she ambled along.
“Get the fuck out the way.” She pushed at him and scooted around.
“No, wait. I wanted to talk to you about Jasmine.”
She spun and jutted her chin. “Don’t you be fussin’ with that child. Ain’t even formed yet.” Her droopy eyes went wide. They were Jasmine’s green eyes, but hollow. “Get the fuck out my way before I call poh—leese.”
“Wait, wait, wait. I’m a firefighter. I work across the street from your house.”
She looked at Mitch’s truck. “Ohhh. You the one with the truck. I oughta beat your ass.” Her listless eyes showed no sign of the anger in her voice.
“I want to pay for the window. Jasmine told me she didn’t break it.”
“Why you do that?”
“Just want to make things right.”
The woman’s mouth twisted to the side. “What else you want?”
“I’m supposed to tutor Alexus and some other kids. It’s part of my job, but I can’t get them to come. I need Jasmine’s help.”
“Sound like some bullshit to me.”
“How about I fix your roof? Must leak bad when it rains.”
The woman narrowed her eyes, studying Mitch as he pulled a checkbook from his back pocket.
“Who should I make it out to?” Mitch asked.
“Benita Richardson, spell with BE, not BO,” she said, cocking her head while she watched him fill in the amount, $450.
Mitch ripped off the check. “Extra’s for your trouble. I really am sorry.”
Benita snatched the check and strode down the sidewalk.
Chapter 18
Next day at work, three o’clock came and went with no kids. Hope faded. Later that night, the fire alarm chimed. The dormitory clock read three-thirteen. “Engine Fifteen, Engine Thirty, Engine Thirty-two, Trucks Twelve and Nine, Battalion Two, and Battalion Five respond to a report of a fire…”
Mitch slid the pole and raced for the rig. After two weeks and countless runs, gearing up was automatic. He was always first on the rig.
The biting smell of an angry fire filled the cab as they rolled out of quarters. An orange glow lit up the sky. The captain shouted over his shoulder, “We got a worker. Thirty’s will be right on our ass. Mitch, lay out the line to the back while Ralph and Kenny mask up. You mask up after they take the line.”
Adrenalin was on full flow. Mitch would get to lay out the first line to a working fire.
They were first on scene. Flames licked from the doorway of the first-floor tavern. Dark smoke heaved from second-floor windows. Mitch leapt off the rig. Intense heat stung the side of his face. The captain radioed in a report to the dispatcher while Ralph and Kenny ran to the side of the fire engine for their air packs. Rigs barreled down the block toward them, sirens blaring, red and white strobes reflecting off the houses.
“Get that goddamn line laid out before Thirty’s gets here,” Ralph hollered.
Mitch pulled the quick attack line off the side of the engine and ran it to the back of the building. He looped several sections around the back lot so it would play out smoothly. He went to the nozzle and waited.
Engine Thirty’s crew stormed up to him. “We’ll take that line,” the lieutenant said.
“That’s our line.”
“I don’t give a fuck. We’re taking the line. Now move. That’s an order.”
A tall, lanky firefighter shoved Mitch and jerked the nozzle away from him. The firefighter sneered and took off for the back door, leaving Mitch speechless.
“Tell your loser crew they can back us up anytime,” Engine Thirty’s lieutenant said as he and two firefighters crawled into the black smoke churning from the open doorway.
Seconds later Mitch’s crew tore around the side of the blazing structure.
Ralph frowned at Mitch. “Where’s our line?”
“Engine Thirty took it.”
“Goddamn it. You never give up the line. That was our fire.”
“All right, all right, all right,” the captain said. “Settle down. Mitch, get your mask. Ralph, you and me will see about taking our line back from those bastards. Kenny, you and Mitch get a line to the second floor.
Mitch wasted no time masking up and followed Kenny up the blinding stairwell with the hose.
“Mitch, stay at the top of the stairs and feed me hose.”
Mitch wrestled the hose up the stairs as Kenny disappeared into the smoke. The hose stopped advancing. Muffled cries penetrated the darkness. “Kenny, hear that? —Kenny?”
Mitch dropped the hose and crawled into the hallway, trying to get a fix on the faint sound. The cry intensified to a chilling moan, sounding like it came from the first room off to his left.
“Kenny. Kenny. I got someone here.”
Mitch froze as the panic and confusion took him back to that burning farmhouse, and Maggie. No, not again. He fought through the paralyzing panic and crawled into the ink-black room toward the guttural moans. Sweeping the floor with his arms, he hit something that yowled. He pulled it close to his facepiece. It clawed at him. Crap. He clutched the cat and ran it down the stairwell and let it go into the night, then raced back to the top of the stairs. Kenny was hollering for him. Mitch followed the hose line into the blackness, down the long hall, and into a small room, bumping into Kenny. “I’m here.”
“Where the hell you been? My back gave out pulling this tub of lard out of bed. You’ll have to get him out. I can barely crawl.”
Mitch slid his arms under the armpits of the limp body and dragged him down the hall.
Clomping from the stairwell. The captain’s voice cut through the darkness, “Got anything?”
“Got a man down,” Kenny said. “Mitch needs help getting him out. My back fucked up again.”
Mitch and Ralph wrestled the man down the stairs and outside where the paramedics were waiting.
“Let’s get another line on the fire,” the captain said.
Kenny limped toward the doorway. The captain stopped him. “Not you. You get checked out.”
Inside the burning tavern, Mitch fed Ralph and Captain Reemer hose as they advanced through the building, hosing down hot spots, backing up Engine Thirty’s attack on the fire. While they sprayed water, Mitch pulled plaster from the ceiling and walls like a maniac. The harder he worked, the less he thought about screwing up. A stupid cat.
After the fire was out, they spent a good hour overhauling the building, making sure every last dying ember had been extinguished. They were told to leave as much intact as possible. The police arson team would be investigating.
Back at the rig, the chief approached them. “I’ll need statements from all of you on what you saw when you got here. The occupant on the second floor was the owner of the bar. He’s DOA.”
Mitch swallowed hard.
Kenny was inside the rig waiting, bent forward, his face ashen.
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“You okay?” the captain asked Kenny.
Kenny nodded.
“Fucking cub,” Ralph said as they pulled away from the scene.
Nobody said anything on the way to quarters.
* * *
Back at the firehouse, Crusher, Ralph, and the boss silently went about repacking fresh hose while Mitch sanitized and checked the masks. By the time they were done, it was after six in the morning. They plodded to the kitchen for coffee before showering. Mitch went to the sink to wash dishes while Ralph fired up a stogie. Kenny was hunched over the table.
The captain waved Mitch over to the table. “Sit down.”
Mitch swallowed back sour bile and moved to the bench, away from the others.
The captain shook the end of his pipe at Mitch. “My top priority as an officer is to ensure everyone goes home in the morning in one piece. So when we get a worker, we talk it over afterward. If somebody screws up, we all learn from it. And we’ve all screwed up.” The captain pointed at Ralph. “Right, Ralph?”
Ralph blew bitter cigar smoke at the ceiling.
“Anyway, companies in the Core think they’re the gods of fire. We all feel like we’re the best and we’ll do anything to show up the other companies. It’s fierce. So when Engine Thirty took our line, that was an insult, an attack on us. You get that, Mitch?”
“Yeah, I get it. But the lieutenant ordered me to give them the line.”
He could have murdered a baby from their expressions.
“Next time tell the boss you’ve been ordered by me not to give up the line. And fight like hell for it. Tell him to go fuck himself. I’ll back you.”
Mitch stared at his folded hands.
“We’ll hear about that one for a long time. Not much we can do now.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I got an idea,” Kenny said.
“Oh for Christ’s sake, don’t do anything stupid.” The captain’s eyes narrowed. “How’d you wrench your back?”
Kenny glanced at Mitch and back at the captain. “You saw the size of that bastard. Me and Mitch found him and were pulling him out. I got careless, should have used my legs.”
Mitch couldn’t let Kenny lie. He took a deep breath and told them about the cat and leaving Kenny alone.
Beneath the Flames Page 10