Smoke and Fire

by Julie Cannon

  “She lives in Morgan City. We had dinner, I took her home, and then I came home. I got sleepy about halfway and stopped at a rest area near New Iberia to take a power nap and now here I am.”

  “Sounds like a date to me.”

  “It wasn’t a date.”

  Mrs. C pointed a gnarly, arthritic finger at Brady and shook her head. “You couldn’t have picked someone to date who was a little more geographically desirable?”

  “It wasn’t a date. It was two people having a meal together.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Brady choked on her coffee and it dribbled down her chin. She reached for her napkin. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me. I didn’t stutter. I see the look in your eyes. I know you better than that. You like this girl.”

  Brady wiped her chin. “Of course I like her. I wouldn’t have had dinner with her if I didn’t.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “There’s nothing going on.”

  “Not yet, there isn’t.”

  “Since when have you become so interested in my love life?”

  “When you stopped having one.”

  “And how do you know I don’t have one?’

  “Because if you’re not on a job your truck is parked in the driveway every night all night. And what’s with that fancy car you’re driving?”

  “What about it?”

  “Where did you get it? Did you buy it?”

  “No, it’s a rental.”

  “A rental? You rent a fancy car and drive all the way to Morgan City to take this woman out to dinner, and you still mean to tell me it’s nothing special.”

  “I couldn’t pick her up in my truck.”

  “Why not? It’s been good enough for all your other women.”

  “Well, she’s not like all the other women.”

  “I knew it.” Mrs. C slapped her hand on the Formica tabletop. “I knew it. You haven’t been yourself since you got back from that safety award. Is that where you met her?”

  “Yes,” Brady said patiently.

  “Well, it’s good that you two have something in common. Other than the fact that you both like girls.”

  Brady didn’t try to hold in her laughter. At seventy-eight Mrs. C was more liberal and un-homophobic than women half her age. She wasn’t shy. She’d asked Brady all kinds of personal questions about lesbians when she first moved in because “it’s just something I don’t know anything about.” Mrs. C was very concerned about keeping her mind active in her retirement years.

  “Did you kiss her?”

  “No.” Even though her landlady had asked her the same question on more than one occasion, this time Brady was ready.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I didn’t.”

  “Did she kiss you?”

  “No, she didn’t.”

  “Why not? You didn’t eat garlic at dinner, did you? I told you never to do that on a date, no matter how much you love it.” To her it was that simple.

  Brady laughed again. “No, I didn’t eat garlic.”

  “Then why didn’t you kiss her?”

  “She wasn’t ready to be kissed.”

  “What does that mean?’

  “Just what it means. She wasn’t ready.”

  “Isn’t that what foreplay’s for? I mean, it’s been a while but I do remember that part.”

  “Yes, that’s what foreplay is. But that’s not what this was about.”

  “Why doesn’t she like you? Did you say something stupid?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Did you insult her?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then why didn’t you kiss her?”

  “Mrs. C, it wasn’t the time or the place. It started out looking promising, but by the end of the evening everything had changed.”

  “What happened?”

  Brady refilled both of their cups and divulged the evening’s events. Mrs. C wouldn’t let her up from the table until she did. Brady never talked about personal things with anyone, but she felt comfortable with Mrs. C.

  “So you think one of those women dumped her?”

  “That’s the conclusion I came to.”

  “But that’s just stupid.”

  “Actually I called the woman an ass.”

  “Very astute.” Mrs. C shook her head disapprovingly. Gingerly she got up from the table and took Brady’s empty plate. “I can see your point about not kissing her. I guess that wasn’t the time. She probably would have slapped your face. You’re a pretty smart girl, Brady.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. C. It’s important to me what you think about me.”

  “As it should be. Now you have to leave. I have things to do today. And I need to think about what your next move needs to be.”

  “My next move?”

  “Yeah. What you need to do so it is the right time, place, and circumstances to kiss her.”

  Brady laughed. Over the years she’d come to love Mr. and Mrs. C, and it really didn’t bother her when they pried into her personal life. “Be sure to let me know what you come up with.” Brady kissed her on the cheek and walked up the steps to her apartment.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tears threatened to spill out of her eyes as Nicole looked in the mirror. Seeing Gina last night had thrown her back to a place she didn’t want to be. She didn’t like what she saw. Where was the woman she’d been? The confident hell-raiser. The emotionally strong kick-ass-take-no-names woman. According to Brady she still was, underneath her maimed exterior, but she wasn’t so sure. Other than work and the obligatory social occasions she couldn’t get out of, she had no life. And when she did go out she always felt on the fringe of the activity, never fully engaging as those around her did. She put the mirror away and walked back to her desk.

  “Excuse me, Nicole,” Ann said, walking into her office. “There’s a President Charsea on the phone for you. He says it’s quite important.”

  “Thanks, Ann. I think I know what he wants. Would you see if Buck’s available?” Nicole found her pen, pulled out a fresh tablet of paper, and picked up the receiver. “Nicole McMillan.”

  “Ms. McMillan, this is President Charsea,” the man said with a heavy accent. “I am in need of your services.”

  “Yes, Mr. President, I’ve been watching the news reports. How can I help you?” Greslikstan was a small but oil-rich country to the east of Turkey. The country had been invaded seven months ago by their not-so-friendly neighbors to the east. The news told of massive casualties as Greslikstan defended itself from attack.

  “By doing what you do best. I am in need of McMillan Suppression to save my country from environmental disaster. When the rebels retreated three days ago they sabotaged our wellheads. Eight wells are burning.”

  Nicole was taking notes as the president spoke and thinking of what she would need to do in response to his request. As the president continued to outline the extent of the damage to the oil fields in his country, Nicole wrote quickly and asked questions to fill in the gaps.

  “Of course we’ll help you, Mr. President. I’ll send five of my best teams to your country within the week.” Nicole was transferred to the minister of affairs and provided the man with a list of items and material the crews would need. Forty minutes later she hung up and Buck was sitting across from her.

  “We’ve been called to Greslikstan,” Nicole said, moving to the large map on the wall of her office. “Where in the hell is it?” It took her and Buck a few minutes before they found the dot of a country on the wall map. “They have eight wells sabotaged by rebels and all are on fire.”

  “Eight? Holy God,” Buck replied, almost in reference of the powers of the fire.

  “Yes, and we need our best crews. Who’s available?”

  Buck rattled off the names of five crews, and when he named Brady’s, Nicole’s heart lurched. This would be a very dangerous situation. Not only were the fires hot, but rebels might still be in the
area and would shoot anyone trying to help the government. Nicole always worried when she sent a crew out, but she would doubly so now. There was no such thing as a routine oil-well fire. The mere fact that oil and flame were mixed together…well, enough said.

  “The crews?”

  Nicole had never hesitated before sending any of the crews out. They were well trained and could do the job. So why was she hesitating now? Because Brady was on one of those crews. Even though Brady had been on one of the crews dozens of other times, this time it was different. This time it was personal.

  “Send them.”

  *

  Brady’s phone buzzed while she was in the chair getting her hair cut. She ignored it, but the third time in five minutes it buzzed, she reached in her pocket and answered.

  “Brady, I’m glad I got you,” Flick said hurriedly. “We’re going out. It’s a big one. Expect to be gone for a while.”

  “When?”

  “Tonight. We’ve been called to Greslikstan.”

  “Where?” She’d never heard of the country but it didn’t matter.

  “Greslikstan,” Flick repeated. “They have eight wells sabotaged by rebels.”

  “Eight?” Brady tried to imagine the destruction. “What a mess.”

  “I’ll say. It’s like a mini Kuwait.”

  The environmental disaster could be astronomical if the wells weren’t capped quickly. In early 1991 Iraqi forces had set fire to more than six hundred Kuwaiti oil wells, creating huge columns of smoke that turned the day into night. Suppression teams from around the world arrived and worked together to extinguish the burning wells within nine months of the original callout. McMillan, including Nicole’s father, was one of the US teams called to support Kuwait’s firefighting efforts. Even though eight wells weren’t near the magnitude of the fires in Kuwait, this could still be bad.

  “Bring your A+ game, Brady. This one’s going to be a son of a bitch.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Nicole, President Charsea is on the line,” Buck said, stepping into her office two weeks later. “He’s insistent that you come, and even though he hasn’t said directly, he may pull our crews if you don’t.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Nicole barked, tossing her pen on her desk. She pushed her chair back, stood, and faced the window. “What does he want me there for? It’s not like I’m going to put out his goddamn fire. I don’t do that anymore.” Judging by Buck’s silence, Nicole realized she’d reacted badly. President Charsea had called her the day before, insisting on her presence, and she’d gotten off the line with some excuse. In a much softer tone she said, “Fine. Book me on a flight the day after tomorrow.”

  When Buck closed the door behind him she rested her forehead against the cool glass. One, two, three, breathe, one, two, three, breathe. She was having a full-blown panic attack. No way could she make the trip. Merely discussing it had brought on the attack. No way would she be able to sit in the confines of an airplane for twenty hours. They’d have to take her out in a strait jacket, or she’d be so highly medicated she’d be a zombie. Then what was the point?

  Nicole paced around her office in a nice, neat little square reciting all the calming techniques her shrink had taught her. She walked behind her desk, up the left side, across the front, and down the other side. She did six laps in that direction before turning and repeating the sequence in the opposite. Eventually she started to calm down. Her hands still shook albeit much less than before.

  “I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I cannot do this anymore.” Nicole grabbed her keys and headed out the office door, pausing long enough to tell Ann something had come up and to clear her calendar for the rest of the afternoon. As she pulled out of the parking garage of McMillan Suppression she couldn’t get away fast enough.

  *

  “What does he expect me to do?” Nicole repeated the question she’d asked Buck yesterday, but this time in the confines of her psychologist’s office. She’d called Dr. Craig after she left her office, and he was able to squeeze her in before his first patient this morning.

  “Personally put out his goddamn fire. I don’t do that anymore. I can’t do it anymore,” Nicole said, her voice cracking. Tears burned behind her eyes.

  She reached for a tissue from the box on the table between her and Dr. Craig. Other than in the complete privacy of her house, this was the only place and he was the only person who had ever seen her cry.

  She’d first gone to talk to him as part of her rehab therapy. He specialized in burn victims, and she’d seen him twice a week the first year, then weekly for the second, tapering off during the third and visiting occasionally after that.

  “What’s it been now? Eight months since I’ve seen you, Nicole?”

  “Longer than that,” she answered. He knew full well how long it had been. Nicole was sure he’d consulted her file before she got here.

  “Why don’t you fill me in on what’s been going on in your life.”

  Nicole dabbed at her eye when a lone tear escaped. “Dad is hanging in there. Gets tired easily. My mother’s the same, maybe a bit worse. My biological clock is ticking loudly in her head, but not mine.”

  “Is she still pressuring you to get married?”

  “Yes.”

  “Quit your job?”

  “That goes without saying.”

  “What are you doing besides work?” Nicole didn’t answer. “When was the last time you went out with friends or someone special?”

  “You know I don’t date.”

  “All right,” he said calmly. “When was the last time you went out with friends?”

  “I went to my BFF’s daughter’s wedding.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Brady flashed across her mind. The way she looked in her tuxedo with her black round-toe shoes, black-and-white cufflinks and button studs when she stood beside Mark. The way her smile lit up her face. The way it felt to be in her arms.

  “It was nice,” she answered benignly.

  “Nicole, you’re wasting my time and your money.”

  She had tried several counselors before selecting Dr. Craig. She felt more comfortable with a man, which surprised her. She thought it had something to do with the fact that she couldn’t bring herself to admit any amount of weakness in front of a woman. She also liked his no-nonsense style and that he didn’t put up with any bullshit.

  “All right, I enjoyed myself a lot.”

  “Talk to anyone new?”

  “Yes.” He wouldn’t stop until she told him what he wanted to know.

  “The groom’s best man also works at McMillan. Actually it was more like his best woman. She’s his best friend. I was surprised when she walked in with Mark. I saw her later when she ran interference with an asshole who wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “And?”

  “And…” Nicole hesitated. “We talked…and danced.”

  “I didn’t see that coming,” Dr. Craig said, clearly surprised.

  “Neither did I.” Nicole remembered how safe she’d felt in Brady’s arms.

  “How did you react to that?”

  “Fine.”

  “Don’t lie to yourself, Nicole.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Uh-huh.” Dr. Craig frowned. “What did you feel?”

  “Nothing.” Okay, now I’m lying.

  “What did she do?”

  Nicole was surprised he let her comment drop without challenge. “What do you mean?”

  “Was she attracted to you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  Nicole fell back in the plush chair. “Yes, she was.”

  “Were you attracted to her?”

  Her body reacted as it had that night weeks ago. Heat coursed through her middle and her pulse beat faster.

  “Are you going to see her again?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why not.�
��

  “We’ve talked about this, Nicole.”

  “We talked about a lot of things and then moved on.”

  “No, Nicole, you moved on because you didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “No, I moved on because I’d come to terms with it. Isn’t that your favorite phrase?”

  “But your terms aren’t good for you, Nicole.”

  “So you think it’s good for me to get involved with a woman to the point of getting naked, which in case you’re not up on today’s dating rules, happens very quickly, and subject myself to the embarrassment and humiliation of her turning away in disgust?” She was angry now.

  “I think you have higher standards than to choose a woman who would be so shallow to treat you like that.”

  “Didn’t look that way with Gina.”

  “From what you’ve told me there wasn’t really much to your relationship with Gina other than sex. At least from her perspective.”

  They’d talked about this, but Nicole didn’t believe it. Or didn’t want to. She’d planned to spend the rest of her life with Gina.

  “Gina was a diversion.”

  “Excuse me?” Nicole asked incredulously.

  “A diversion. You and Gina just happened to be in the same place at the right time. You two fell into each other because you didn’t have anything better to do. When it got tough, she bailed.”

  “We loved each other.” The look on Dr. Craig’s face said he believed anything but. “I loved her.”

  “And you can love again.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “It’s not that you can’t, Nicole. It’s that you won’t let yourself.”

  *

  “I can’t do this anymore, Charlotte.”

  “What can’t you do?” She had called Charlotte after leaving Dr. Craig’s office to see if she was free for lunch. Charlotte was sitting across from her in a beat-up coffee shop frequented by roughnecks, drillers, and other assorted riff-raff that happened to wander in.

  Nicole looked into kind green eyes. Charlotte was looking at her, obviously expecting an answer. She never let Nicole give her any grief, guff, or bullshit. But she never overstepped her bounds unless Nicole asked her to.