Love Unleashed

by Diane Kelly

  Louie

  I made a quick tour around the truck, making sure any valuable or potentially dangerous equipment was out of reach of curious little hands. After the fire-safety assembly, we’d bring the children outside and let them take a look at the trucks. Best to make sure the axes and other tools were tightly secured. Didn’t want one of the kiddos to accidentally lose a toe. I’d have no chance with the cute, curly-haired teacher if I let one of her kids get hurt.

  Once I’d confirmed the truck was ready, I grabbed the large toolbox that contained a selection of instruments used in firefighting. A forcible entry tool. A roof hook. A lock pull. I also grabbed one of our masks. It was important for the children to see what a firefighter looked like with a mask on so that they wouldn’t be scared by it if one of us emerged from smoke to rescue them.

  As I turned around, my eyes spotted a group of small kids clustered at the window of a classroom watching me and the trucks with eager expressions on their faces. Not to be a killjoy, but while fighting fires could be exciting and heroic, it could also be terrifying and tragic. Things did not always end well, no matter how hard we tried to douse the flames and rescue the victims. But these children were too young to fully understand the intricacies of the job, and the last thing I wanted to do was give them nightmares. We’d keep things light at our assembly, focus on what they should do if they found themselves confronting a fire.

  Along with me today were four of our station’s finest. Francesca “Frankie” Kerrigan, a rookie firefighter with blue hair who played roller derby and had more than her share of moxie. Douglas Harrison was a skilled paramedic with three decades of experience under his belt. Whoever ended up in his ambulance, no matter how broken, had a better-than-average chance of survival. Lieutenant Seth Rutledge was a former Army explosive ordnance specialist who now served as a K-9 handler and supervisor on the department’s bomb squad. His explosive-detection dog, Blast, had come along, too. The kids always loved seeing the dog in action. Together, we’d teach the kids a thing or two.

  Stepping inside the school, we were greeted by the smell of floor polish and a gray-haired woman in a glassed-in office who looked up from behind the counter. She raised a hand in greeting and motioned for us to come inside. “Good morning!” she said cheerily as we entered the office. “We’ve been expecting y’all. Sign in here, please.” She pushed a clipboard with an attached pen across the counter.

  As we stepped up to the counter, she peered over her reading glasses, her gaze roaming over me, Seth, and Doug. Not to sound full of myself, but I was used to this type of response from women. Seth and Doug were, too. With muscles honed from regular workouts and heavy lifting on the job, our bodies were, as they say, ripped. Not that I honestly minded. Hell, as hard as I’d worked to earn these muscles, it was nice to get some appreciation for them. And after spending my childhood with the nickname “Meatball,” it was nice to feel proud of my physique rather than ashamed of it. But someday I’d like a woman to see past my body and want to know more about the man inside. For all the crap men get about being shallow and preferring women who make good arm candy, women could be just as superficial, in my experience. The last woman I’d dated took me to her high school reunion and trotted me around like some kind of show horse, telling all of her friends to feel my biceps. She never bothered to ask if I was okay with it. By the end of the night, I’d been squeezed more than an avocado in a supermarket produce aisle. That night had been our final date.

  After we signed the visitor log, the woman leaned to her left and pointed down a corridor. “Gym’s at the end of that hall. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks,” I said, retrieving my toolbox from the floor where I’d set it.

  Blast’s claws tapped on the linoleum as we made our way to the gymnasium. There, we checked in with the coach.

  I gestured to the folding blue vinyl gym mats stacked against the wall. “Okay if we use those?”

  “Of course.” He swept an arm to indicate the expansive space. “Gym’s all yours. If you need me, I’m just a knock away.” With that, he disappeared into his office at the front of the room. Through the wide window in the door, I saw him slip into his desk chair and pull his computer keyboard toward him. Looked like he’d be catching up on paperwork today. Or maybe sports scores online.

  Frankie dropped the hose she’d been carrying. “I reserve the right to roll my eyes if any of these single teachers throw themselves at you three.”

  I scoffed. “That’s not going to happen.” Of course I secretly hoped it would. If the teacher with the curls threw herself at me, I planned on catching her.

  Frankie rolled her eyes, just as she’d reserved the right to. “Of course it is. It happens every time. Women see all of this and that”—she swung her hand to indicate first me, then Seth, then Doug—“they get hot and bothered.”

  Seth chuckled. “Any flirting would be wasted on me. I’m taken.”

  Frankie pointed a finger at him. “And don’t you forget it.”

  Seth was in a committed relationship with Frankie’s roommate, Megan Luz, a K-9 handler with the Fort Worth Police Department. In fact, it was Seth who’d first suggested that Frankie consider firefighting as a career. Back then, Frankie had been working nights stocking groceries, trying to figure out what she wanted to be when she grew up. Seth’s suggestion had proven to be a good one, not only for Frankie, who’d found a job she loved, but for the department as well. Frankie was strong, fierce, and fearless, never hesitating when given an order. We always knew we could count on her.

  I turned to the wall, crouched down, and began to unload my tools, laying them on the gym floor. The kids would be here soon and we needed to be ready. Too much downtime and the little boogers would get bored and restless and rowdy. Heck, I’d been the same way at that age, my attention span as short as the horrible haircuts my mother gave me at home with my dad’s clippers. My early school photographs were nothing short of embarrassing. Still, I had fond memories of elementary school. Especially my kindergarten teacher. She’d been exceptionally patient with “Meatball,” the chubby, clumsy, easily distracted boy I’d been back then. She was sweet, too. Back then I thought her sweetness was why she smelled like birthday cake. It wasn’t until years later that I realized that it had probably been some type of vanilla-scented lotion. What a hopeless crush I’d had on her. Looked like history was repeating itself now.

  I smiled to myself and set out a door chock.

  Chapter Five: Stop, Drop, and Roll

  Jessica

  After checking my face in my mirrored compact, touching up my lip gloss, and taking a deep breath to calm myself, I clapped my hands three times to get the children’s attention. “Line up at the door, kiddos!”

  The students scurried over to the door and lined up along the wall. I stepped over to the head of the line. “What do we do as we’re walking down the hall?”

  They stage-whispered in response. “We keep our hands to ourselves and our lips zipped.” They mimicked zipping their lips. This year’s class had certainly caught on quickly. I gave them a silent thumbs-up in reply.

  I opened the door and instructed today’s line leader to head to the gym. When the last child had left the room, I closed the door behind me and strode to the front of the line. We were the first class to arrive. Since I’d been the one to arrange the assembly, I’d planned to take my class a few minutes early so that I could introduce myself to the firefighters.

  The three firefighters and the paramedic were setting up equipment at the front of the gym. The tall, dark-haired one was crouched down in front of a wide toolbox, his back turned to the room.

  After seating my class on the floor I approached the firefighters, my pulse rate in overdrive. The yellow Lab wagged his tail as I drew near. “Hey, pooch!” I called, unsure whether it was okay to pet the furry Lab. I decided to err on the side of caution, and didn’t touch him.

  The blond man turned my way.

  I extended my hand. “Hi
. I’m Jessica Bellingham. Thanks so much for coming.”

  “Lieutenant Seth Rutledge.” The man gave my hand a firm shake before letting go to gesture to his four-footed partner. “This furry guy is Blast. He’s an explosive-sniffing dog. We thought the students might like to see what he can do. They’re welcome to pet him afterward.”

  “Perfect. We’ll use that as an incentive for them to pay attention.” I hoped the children would listen well and take the firefighters’ words to heart. It could save their lives someday.

  The blue-haired woman finished laying the long hose out across the floor, stood, and turned to me. “Hi, Jessica. I’m Frankie Kerrigan.”

  I took her hand. “You’ll be an inspiration to the girls. A few too many of them plan on being princesses when they grow up.”

  Frankie scrunched up her nose. “Ew. I don’t know why any girl would want to be a princess. Too many frogs to kiss.”

  “Yuck,” I agreed. “And don’t even get me started on glass slippers.” I held up my foot, clad in a ballet flat. “These puppies are way more comfortable.”

  We shared a smile.

  The dark-skinned man stood and held out his hand. He looked to be in his early fifties, quite a bit older than the others. “Doug Harrison. I’m a paramedic.”

  I shook his hand and thanked him for coming, too.

  Behind Frankie, the dark-haired guy stood and turned my way. It took everything in me not to squeal in delight when those brown eyes met mine once again.

  He stepped over, standing close enough for me to smell his crisp, cedar-scented soap, which, naturally, made me visualize him naked in a shower, which, naturally, made my body temperature soar once again. He eyed me knowingly. Crap! Does he realize the effect he’s having on me? How embarrassing!

  He offered me a smile and his hand. “I’m Lieutenant Louie DeLuca.”

  Italian, huh? Mamma mia!

  I took his hand. It was big and warm and rough from his work, the manliest hand I’d ever held. It took every bit of my willpower not to rub it all over myself, right there. “I’m . . .” Holy crap! I’ve forgotten my own name! I let go of his hand, hoping the lack of contact would allow my synapses to resume firing in my brain. Luckily, the tactic worked. “ . . . Jessica Bellingham.”

  I wanted to ask how he’d ended up here at the school on his day off, but I didn’t want to seem overly eager. Heck, I wasn’t even sure he remembered our brief exchange Monday at the coffee place, whether I’d even registered with him. Probably not. A guy like him would be constantly ogled by women, many of whom would be wearing attire far more attractive than an Oscar the Grouch T-shirt. The ruffled purple blouse I’d worn today was definitely a step up.

  “I’m glad you invited us out, Miss Bellingham,” he said.

  I’m glad, too, but probably for different reasons.

  While the other kindergarten classes filtered into the gymnasium, the firefighters wrangled the folded gym mats from the stack and spread them in a long line across the floor. I wasn’t sure exactly what Louie had in mind, but he clearly looked like a man who knew what he was doing.

  When all of the classes were seated, I cupped my hands around my mouth and called out, “Okay, kids, time to quiet down!”

  The dull roar continued, my voice no match for more than a hundred excited children. Louie stepped up next to me, one of the fire department’s bullhorns in hand. He held the device out to me. “Try this.”

  I took the bullhorn from him, held it to my mouth, and pushed the button, repeating the order for the kids to quiet down. With the help of the gadget, they heard me this time and closed their mouths so I could continue. “We have four firefighters here today to teach you all about fire safety. Lieutenants DeLuca and Rutledge, Firefighter Kerrigan, and Paramedic Harrison are going to tell you some very important things, so listen closely. If you do a good job listening, you’ll get to pet their dog, Blast, when the assembly is over.”

  On hearing his name, the dog wagged his tail, raised his snout, and issued a quick bark that echoed through the cavernous room. Arf-arf!

  I returned the bullhorn to Louie, trying not to melt into a pile of goo at his feet, and stepped over to the far wall to keep watch over my class. Two of the other kindergarten teachers joined me. One was Tasha, a petite, caramel-skinned newlywed in her early thirties. The other—Patricia—was a seasoned, gray-haired woman in her midsixties who planned to retire at the end of the year. Patricia leaned toward me and Tasha and whispered, “You think those guys would give us teachers a private lesson in the lounge later? I’d love to watch them work their hose.”

  “Patricia!” I scolded in jest. “You should be ashamed of yourself!”

  She shrugged. “You teach kindergarten for forty-three years, you gotta amuse yourself somehow.”

  Louie began to speak, not bothering with the bullhorn. His deep voice was loud enough to carry throughout the space. No doubt he’d perfected his technique shouting orders during fires. “Okay, boys and girls. You ready to learn the rules of fire safety?”

  “Yes!” the kids hollered at the top of their lungs.

  Louie ran through the rules, starting with “don’t play with matches or lighters,” moving on to “don’t place anything over a lamp or heater,” and ending with “if a building is on fire don’t hide, go outside.”

  After Louie stated each rule, Frankie called out, “What’s the rule?” and cupped a hand over her ear as the kids recited it back.

  Lieutenant Rutledge and his dog joined in now. “Smoke rises toward the ceiling,” he said, pointing upward. “When you’re escaping a building, you should stay low where the air is more clear so you can breathe better. Do the ‘fall and crawl.’” He and his dog demonstrated, falling to a crouch on a mat and crawling forward.

  The kids giggled as they watched Blast wriggle his way across the mat.

  Louie advised them on the importance of an exit strategy. “Be sure that your family practices an escape plan from every room in your house,” he warned. “Choose a safe place away from your house where you can meet to make sure everyone got out safely.”

  “Make an escape plan!” Frankie called out. “Choose a meeting place!” She pointed a finger at the kids, and they repeated her words, less in unison now than they’d been before, but nonetheless getting the gist.

  “Now,” Louie said. “Let’s talk about what to do if your clothes catch on fire.” He stepped to the center of the mat, while the other two firefighters positioned themselves at either end so all of the kids would have a good view. “If your clothing catches fire—”

  The three proceeded to act out realizing their clothes were on fire, flailing their arms and opening their mouths in silent screams.

  Louie called out. “You stop!”

  All three froze in place.

  “Drop!” Louie ordered.

  The trio dropped down on all fours.

  “And roll!” he shouted.

  The three rolled back and forth on the mats. Blast joined in, his four legs in the air.

  Patricia discreetly angled her head to indicate Louie. “I’d like to stop, drop, and roll with him.”

  “The same thought crossed my mind,” I whispered back.

  Tasha arched an eyebrow. “Why don’t you go for it? You and Scott broke up months ago. It’s about time you got back in the game.”

  Scott and I had been a mismatch from the get-go. He was a stoic computer programmer who lived by strict rules and plans and schedules and order. My personality tended toward the more artistic end of the spectrum, where spontaneity, an active imagination, and creative chaos were seen as opportunities, not failures. Add in his reaction when he discovered my secret, and I knew he was not the guy for me. Of course it was precisely his reaction that made me feel gun-shy about jumping back into the dating pool. Maybe I should remain celibate the rest of my days, become a foster parent or adopt the children I’d always wanted. One glance at Louie, though, and I realized celibacy was not an option. My hormones were p
rimed and ready for action.

  Before I could respond to Tasha, Louie proceeded to tell the kids some basics about firefighting techniques. He picked up each tool and explained how they were used. Brandishing the axe, he said, “We use an axe have to hack our way through wooden doors or walls.” Next, he showed the kids a small plastic and metal device he called a door chock. “These hold the doors open for us as we make our way through a building.” He continued on, explaining the purpose of each of several tools. When he finished, he held up his mask. “Firefighters wear these special masks that help us breathe in smoky buildings. I’m going to put it on so you can see what a firefighter would look like if he or she came to rescue you from a fire.”

  He donned the mask and paraded back and forth in front of the kids, raising his arms in jest as if he were going to attack. The kids screamed in laughter.

  “I look like a big bug, don’t I?” he said in a muffled voice. He pulled the mask off. “See? Nothing to be scared of. It’s just a person inside.”

  His spiel complete, he held out an arm to indicate Rutledge. “I’ll turn things over now to Lieutenant Rutledge and his dog, Blast.”

  We applauded in response as the man and his dog took center stage in front of the mat.

  “Fires are sometimes caused by explosions,” the bomb squad officer explained. He told the kids that Blast was trained to sniff for things that could explode and cause a fire. He pulled a small clear packet out of his pocket and held it up. “See this dark stuff that looks like black sand? This is gunpowder. It can catch fire and explode very easily. I’m going to give this packet to Lieutenant Louie, and he’s going to hide it somewhere in this room. My dog and I will wait outside while he’s hiding the powder. When we come back in, Blast will find it all by himself.”

  The children murmured in excitement. It was like a magic trick!

  He stepped over to hand the packet to Louie, then led his dog out of the gym. Once the door closed behind Rutledge and his dog, Louie ran his eyes over the audience. “Where should I hide this?”