Uncle Gordy shoved his way to the front and grabbed the mic from Uncle Charlie. “Now wait just a minute. Everywhere I go, people ask me when we’re rebuilding Pierre’s Pizza. And our plan includes apartments. Our long-term rental housing options are sorely lacking. We’d be killing two birds—”
And from there, chaos erupted.
Peter lost sight of the microphone, not that anyone using it could be heard over all the shouting. The other four council members, two on each side of Peter, yelled over his head and debated amongst themselves. Seb tried to hold Margaret Walker back from the very real threat of punching Bob Frasier in the face.
Peter’s body absorbed the boiling tension, the pressure building through the room. To witness the animosity between his closest family and friends was like watching his own worst nightmare come to life—the one where he ran through a burning building toward cries for help but he couldn’t get to them. The one where the heat blistered his skin and he could smell singed hair before he woke drenched in sweat.
A guy could only handle so much.
He stood. With one sharp whistle, all action ceased. “Come on, folks. We are better than this. Everyone, take a seat.”
Chairs shuffled as people went back to their places. Movement from Ronnie caught his eye. She pointed to the entryway. Vivien.
Thank you, God.
Peter sank back to his chair and spoke into the microphone on the council table. “We’ve heard plenty from both of these parties. Now, if there are any new proposals, this is the time to bring them up.”
A rumble sounded through the crowd as Vivien made her way forward. As always, she captured everyone’s attention without even trying. And he’d never been so thankful for that.
Vivien smiled at the council members and Seb. “I would like to present another option for the Westerman property. An option that will greatly benefit Deep Haven and fulfill a felt need.” She paused, and the whole crowd behind her leaned forward to hear her idea.
“I came back here to start a youth theater program. The school is overpopulated and has an undersized auditorium. As I was thinking about alternative locations to hold our summer production, I realized that we don’t have many options for indoor space for our children and teens. The school gyms aren’t even adequate to provide enough space for our sports programs anymore. Teams and school clubs are always competing for practice time. So, I propose we turn the Westerman Hotel into a youth center. A center with a gym and theater, a tutoring program, and indoor playground. We could—”
“A youth center?” Uncle Charlie sputtered. “And who’s going to pay for that?”
Vivien opened her mouth to answer when Seb interrupted.
“Let’s hear Vivien’s idea and we will have a time for questions later.”
Way to go, Seb.
Vivien outlined a rough plan for the Deep Haven Youth Center. Peter had to admit, she’d put a lot of thought into it.
Uncle Charlie’s nostrils flared, but he held his tongue. Dad and Uncle Gordy wore their disdain on their brows, the same tight lips and clenched jaws, but also stayed quiet.
“Thank you, Vivien,” Seb said as she finished. “As much as I really wanted to come to a vote and conclusion about the property, I think this bears considering. We need more information before we can make a fair decision. I propose we put this on hold and come back—”
The Deep Haven EMS signal echoed throughout the room from multiple pagers and phones.
Peter had never been more thankful for a call. Yes, give him a fire to fight over personal conflict any day.
Fire rescue and medical support were needed at Rusty’s gravel pit up on the ridge.
The crowd dispersed and Peter rushed to the fire hall with Seb, now teammates again, the debate forgotten for the moment.
Rusty’s was an abandoned junk car lot located outside city limits, a site that had long ago been reclaimed for late-night parties and local shenanigans.
No one needed directions.
Peter manned the pump truck with the other volunteers, Ronnie and Cole in the ambulance, as they headed out of town. The gravel road was dark, but he knew the way too easily and he swung the rig into Rusty’s lot, the high beams on. Beer cans and empty bottles littered the ground, and the radios from cars and trucks blared music as the headlights created eerie shadows on the mounds and valleys of gravel and dirt.
A sunset pit party.
Of course. With most of the adults occupied at the meeting, the local youth decided to light it up and get drunk. Teens and older kids rounded up by the deputies stood a safe distance away from the out-of-control bonfire and a burning storage shed at the edge of the clearing. Their faces were somber in the flashing red and blue lights.
Peter organized his crew and got to work. Thankfully, someone shut off the last radio from the cars as the hose crews fought to put out the storage building and bring the fire back under control.
These kids were extremely lucky the sparks hadn’t carried across the road to the small grassy field or woods surrounding the lot. Lucky the building didn’t have anything explosive or flammable.
As it was, enough people were hurt. Ronnie was wrapping one kid’s arm with gauze. A few more looked like they’d gotten into a tussle. Seb and Jensen were working on another kid lying on the ground with Kirby assisting. Some of the parents stood near the deputies, shooting angry looks of disapproval at their teenagers.
Megan was here too? Sure enough, Josh stood next to her, head hung low. And Tiago was with him. How did they get mixed up in all this?
Just as he walked over to find out, a blur rushed from the trees and jumped over the bonfire that started the whole thing, now a much smaller blaze, but not yet extinguished. With a whoop, a teenager ran away from Kyle, who tried to grab him.
Ben Zimmerman.
Ben lunged away from the sheriff. Backed up right into the fire. Yelled as he spun in a circle, flames catching his jeans.
Peter dropped the radio in his hand and rushed forward, wrapping Ben in a tight hold and tackling him to the gravel. He rolled with him to smother the flames. The boy flailed and screamed.
Peter held him tight, grunting. “Stop fighting me, Ben. I’m trying to help you.” His cheek scraped against the crushed rock on the ground as Ben’s head slammed into his jaw and a bony elbow caught him in the ribs.
Ben kept yelping, even after the flames were out. When he finally settled down enough, Peter let go of him.
And to thank Peter for saving his life, the punk lay in the dirt and laughed. “Whoooeeee, did you see that, Uncle Pete?”
Seriously? To go from screaming and fighting for his life to hysterical laughter, the kid had to be high.
“What did you get into, Ben?”
“Just a little something for a good time.” He giggled, then started making hand puppets and rocket noises.
Yeah, definitely high. And, sure, laugh it up now. But once Uncle Charlie showed up, there was little chance Ben’s grandfather would find the whole thing so amusing.
Actually, where was Uncle Charlie? He had been at the courthouse and, as a first responder, he should be here by now. But no familiar Twins cap in the crowd.
Huh. He must’ve been serious about his threat to quit the team until Ronnie issued him an apology. But now someone needed to take Ben in hand before he injured himself anymore. Peter dragged Ben over to Cole. “Call Elton and then get this one to Ronnie to patch up.”
“Good. This will give her something to do. The parents here won’t let her treat their kids. They don’t trust her yet or they’re still upset she’s not Kirby. She’s just treating the minors whose parents haven’t arrived.”
Why couldn’t people just get over it? Kirby was a great guy, but he’d only got into emergency medicine in the last couple years. And yeah, the woman could get under a guy’s skin, but she had a lot more experience and really knew her stuff when it came to medical care.
Ben stumbled and gave another whoop. “What’s a matter, Uncle
Pete? Don’t you know how to have fun?”
Peter didn’t even bother to respond. As soon as Ben’s father showed up, his “good time” would come to a swift end. And Elton wouldn’t be the only concerned relative. He spotted Gina and Tommy Dahlquist among the troublemakers. Aunt Connie would have a field day with that. Thankfully Peter’s own brothers weren’t on-site, even though he recognized quite a few of their friends. In fact, he recognized each and every face around the fire.
The crowd grew as more parents arrived. He wouldn’t be navigating the fire trucks through this anytime soon. His team gathered the hoses and other equipment and loaded up. While Peter stashed one of the axes, a disgruntled voice carried over. “It’s not a pizza parlor or resort we need. That youth center would’ve been nice right about now. If we had an arcade or some evening sports, these teens wouldn’t be setting fire to stuff.”
Maybe this youth center idea was an answer to Peter’s prayers—an option every family could benefit from. This was more serious than sneaking off and smoking a few cigarettes in the woods at the family picnic. These pit parties were becoming more common and more dangerous.
Ronnie’s familiar voice spoke up in response to whoever was around the corner of the truck. “Peter and Vivien are working on it. Believe me, nobody cares more about these kids or this town than Peter.”
Well, what do ya know? Maybe Ronnie as a partner wouldn’t be so bad. Someone backing him up for once.
And she was right. He did care. If he didn’t do something, chances were more kids and teens would get hurt.
But voting for the youth center would mean kick back from both the Dahlquists and Zimmermans.
And if he thought this bonfire had been nearly out of control…
A few sparks and wisps of smoke flew up into the night sky. The firefighter crew had the blaze under control, but if Elton Zimmerman wasn’t careful, Ronnie would reignite it and set him on fire.
She’d never met anyone more stubborn. But for the sake of his son, she would give Ben’s father one more chance.
“Ben needs to be seen by a medical professional. He has second—possibly third—degree burns on his leg. You’ve got to let me treat them.”
Ben moaned on the stretcher.
“See? He’s in pain. I can help him.”
“You won’t lay another finger on my son.” Elton gripped Ben under his arm and lifted him off the cot and down to the ground. “He’ll be fine. We have medicine at home.”
“But he’s high. You don’t even know what drugs are in his system right now. If you won’t let me treat him then at least take him to the ER where they can give proper dosing.”
Elton got right into her face. “Ben isn’t some druggie, and my son is my business. You better butt out.”
Yeah, well a lot of bluster from the likes of Elton Zimmerman did not intimidate her. She moved in even closer. “He needs to be seen.”
“Like it or not, you don’t have a say.”
And there he had her.
His son suffered and thanks to his father, there was nothing she could do about it. She squeezed the pen in her hand, holding herself back from releasing a solid right hook to Elton’s jaw. But she would at least cover her bases and make sure it didn’t come back to bite her if Ben’s wounds got infected later and Elton wanted to blame her.
She wouldn’t put a lawsuit past a guy like him. She held the release form out. “You can’t take him without signing a refusal of treatment.”
He ripped the clipboard from her hand and scribbled his signature on the line. “Now stay out of my business and watch out. We don’t need any more trouble from you.” Elton stomped out into the night, dragging Ben away.
Trouble? What was he talking about? She wasn’t the one who’d lit up the night with weed and bonfires that had burned down a storage shed.
Insufferable jerk.
With all the patients taken care of—at least the patients whose parents hadn’t shown up and refused to let her treat them—Ronnie yanked her latex-free gloves off and marched over to Megan, where Tiago and Josh stood. As if it couldn’t get any worse, now she had to deal with her own charge. She couldn’t believe it when she’d seen Tiago and Josh in the crowd. “So, anyone want to explain to me why you’re here, Tiago? What happened to the skate park?”
“We didn’t know what was going on here.”
Josh nodded, his eyes red-rimmed. Hard to say if it was because of smoke or remorse-filled tears.
“This is the exact opposite of not getting into trouble. How did you even get here?”
He pointed to his bike lying in the dirt, next to Josh’s. “Some other guys we were hanging with at the park said there were some cool jumps we could do with our bikes up here. I didn’t know how far away it was. And once we got here, we saw the bigger kids and what they were doing. They wouldn’t let us leave.”
Megan looked to Josh. “Is that true?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Poor kid’s voice shook.
“Why don’t you boys go put your bikes into the truck and wait for me there. We will be talking about this at home.” When they left, Megan rounded on Ronnie. “This is not something Josh would do.”
The words jolted her, like a slap. “What are you saying?”
“I’m concerned. He’s never gone off where he’s not supposed to be before. This isn’t like him.”
That’s right, blame the new kid. Ronnie drew in a breath, very aware that Megan was Cole’s wife. Despite this incident, she didn’t want to pack up quite yet. “Look, I’m upset too. I’ll talk with Tiago and make sure this doesn’t happen again. But it doesn’t sound like they were looking for trouble. Tiago wouldn’t know anything about this place being a party spot. We just moved here.”
Her words seemed to register with Megan, who took a deep breath and nodded. Then, “I’m not blaming him. I like Tiago, but I am very protective of my son. I want to make sure we’re both on the same page.” Her voice lost some of its hard edge.
“We are. And believe me, I’m not going to let Tiago get away with this kind of behavior.” Not that Ronnie had any idea how to punish him. Any parenting he had in the past swung from extremes, from outright beatings—thankfully Mom had left that guy pretty quickly—to complete neglect. She needed to find some middle ground, consequences to help him make better choices. But right now, she just wanted to throttle the kid.
Megan’s eyes softened, as if she sensed Ronnie’s frustration. She sighed. “The boys need to understand how serious this is, but don’t forget to listen too when you address this with him at home. He needs to know you still care even when you don’t approve of his behavior.” She looked around the site, still crowded with people but many starting to scatter and leave. “Why don’t I take the boys to my place until you’re done with the call? I know you’ll have paperwork and cleanup.” She offered a small smile.
A peace offering.
Ronnie could probably offer one back. “Thanks. And, Megan, don’t worry. I’ll talk to Tiago. This won’t happen again.” But Megan was right. She needed to listen, which meant she should cool off before saying anything else to her little brother.
Ronnie walked back to the ambulance, many of the other emergency workers and townspeople already gone.
Peter was standing at the fire truck nearby, working off his bunker jacket. She heard a grunt, as if in pain.
“Peter? Are you hurt?”
He spun around, his eyes wide. “You’re still here?”
“Come on, Tough Guy. Let me see it.”
“I’m fine.”
“Sit.”
He rolled his eyes, but complied, lowering himself to the bumper of the fire truck. “Are you always so bossy?”
“Yes. What are you going to do about it?” Ronnie took hold of his arm. From elbow to wrist, the skin was raw and red like a rug burn. Not much she could do for that. But the deep cut and scratches high across his cheek, probably from the gravel, she could address. She brushed back his long hair, his beard sof
ter than anticipated beneath her fingertips as she inspected the lacerations.
She could feel her body heating from the core, all the way to her face. Perfect. She was probably blushing.
She should really have gloves on. And probably get herself checked out, the way she was reacting. Geez. It wasn’t like she’d never treated a handsome, muscular man before. She was an Army medic, for goodness’ sake. “Come with me to the ambulance so I can clean out these cuts.”
“I’ll take care of it at—”
“Not you too. I’ve dealt with enough stubborn men tonight.” She dragged him over to her rig and pointed. “Up.” She donned a set of gloves and started working.
His body radiated warmth as well as a manly musk with a hint of smoke, and it weirdly reminded her of a cozy campfire in the woods—the kind where characters in a rom-com would roast s’mores and hot dogs and snuggle together to watch the stars.
Pull yourself together, Morales.
She opened up another drawer. What was she getting again? Oh yeah, saline. Tweezers. Gauze. She gathered up the materials and turned back to Peter.
She needed something to fill the silence, to combat the way his presence overwhelmed the tight space. “So that was some meeting, huh?”
He grimaced as she washed the wound with the saline solution. “You could say that.”
“What is the big deal about this property that has everyone so uptight?”
“The Westerman? Well, two of the biggest families in Deep Haven want it.” He sighed. “And I just happen to be related to them both.”
“What do you mean?” She wiped the excess solution and dirt out of his beard.
“Remember how I said my dad and his siblings, the Dahlquists, own restaurants? Well, they want to rebuild Pierre’s Pizza—which we lost in a fire years ago—and add some apartments. But Gary Dahlquist is not my biological father. He adopted me when he married my mom. My biological father was Dylan Zimmerman, who died when I was a baby. That side of the family owns resorts and hotels, but they don’t have anything directly on the lakeshore in town, so they want to rebuild a hotel on the site. Both are equally good options as far as revenue and bringing income and what they could do for the town.”
Crazy for You Page 9