by Claire Adams
“I am, Mother,” I said testily. “I just don’t have a lot left over for extras.”
“That’s part of being responsible, darling,” my mother reminded me. “Do your father and I need to send you money again?”
“No, Mother, I’m fine,” I snapped.
“Well, I sent you a package with your presents in it,” she said, as I eyed the beautifully wrapped packages sitting under my small tree. “Did you receive it?”
“I did, thank you,” I said. “They’re beautifully wrapped.”
“Aren’t they, though?” she said happily. “I had Bella, at Saks, work her magic on them. She always does such an amazing job of making things look perfect.”
“Indeed she does,” I agreed.
“Well, I hope you can get some use out of them,” she said. “I paid a lot of money for the highest quality I could find thinking it would last you longer.”
“I’m sure whatever you sent will be phenomenal,” I said, trying to find a way to get her off the phone before she gave me a rundown of where she’d shopped and what she’d spent. Normally, I’d just sit and make mouth noises as she chatted, but tonight I wanted nothing more than some peace and quiet with my little bit of holiday cheer.
“Call me in the morning and let me know how you like your gifts,” my mother said.
“Will do, Mother,” I said, as I quickly came up with a plausible excuse. “Oh, gotta run! I’ve got something in the oven, and the timer just went off! I don’t want it to burn!”
“No, of course not,” my mother said. “Go take care of it before you burn your house down.”
“Merry Christmas, Mother,” I said. I listened to her pause and then wish me the same before I disconnected. I sat petting Howard for a long time as the ghosts of Christmas past and present appeared in the bedroom of old Ebenezer Scrooge. Howard and the quilt combined to create a soft, warm pocket, and I drifted off just as the ghost of Christmas future was about to reveal Scrooge’s destiny.
Chapter Thirteen
Blake
I woke up the next morning with the eerie feeling that someone was watching me. I rolled over and found Tony sitting on his bunk wearing a ridiculous Santa hat and holding a package wrapped in bright red paper. For a moment I was confused, and then I remembered it was Christmas morning.
“What the hell are you doing?” I grunted, as I pulled the blanket up over my head and tried to go back to sleep.
“Dude, it’s Christmas!” Tony whispered excitedly. I pulled the blanket down and rolled halfway over, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Are you high?” I asked.
“No, I’m serious! It’s Christmas morning, and we didn’t get a call all night! I’m going to make it home for present opening, and my wife is going to be happy!” he whispered.
“You stupid idiot!” I hissed. “You don’t say that shit out loud! Jesus, what’s wrong with you?”
“Sorry, I forgot,” Tony said, hanging his head. I chuckled as the pom pom on the top of his Santa cap flopped forward, covering half of his face.
“Just shut the hell up and go back to bed, would you?” I grumbled, as I pulled the blanket back up and closed my eyes. I knew it was too good to last.
The sirens blared as the announcement came over the loudspeaker telling us that we had a call. I threw the covers back and shot Tony a look that could have frozen ice. He tossed the box on his bunk and tore off the cap before breaking into a dead run toward the garage. I hopped out of bed and followed Tony down the hall as the alarm blared and the voice on the intercom calmly told us we were heading to a residential structure fire.
“Great, someone’s Christmas is totally shot to shit,” Tony said, as we sped down the street toward the fire.
“Maybe they don’t celebrate,” I suggested. “Then it’s just a shitty way to spend a winter morning.”
“Shut the fuck up, Gaston,” Tony said, as he fought against the grin that threatened to spread across his face. He added, “My wife is gonna fuckin’ kill me.”
“I’ll write you a note,” I offered. “She likes me.”
Tony rolled his eyes and turned to looked out the window as we rolled up to the scene. The house, engulfed in flames, burned brightly against the inky pre-dawn sky. I surveyed the scene and noticed a small blonde woman standing off to one side with her back to us, stomping her foot as she yelled something at the house. It wasn’t until we got out of the truck that I could hear what she was yelling.
“HOWARD! HOWARD! Get your ass out here right now! Do you hear me?” she screamed at the top of her lungs. “I’m not fooling around here, mister! HOWARD!”
“Looks like there’s someone still inside the house,” I said to Chief as he joined the scene.
“Gaston, you and Williams take Jordan and get in there with the hose,” Chief said, gesturing toward the front door.
“Aw man, Tony is not going to like having the rookie with us,” I said. Chief ignored me and turned to the ladder guys.
“Tony! Rookie! Get the hose; we’re going in!” I shouted. Tony turned and shot me a look that I ignored simply because we didn’t have time to argue. If there was someone still inside the house, time was running out for him.
I yanked on the hose and pulled the mask down over my face as we headed for the front door. Up top, the ladder team was getting ready to get on the roof and vent the fire. I knew we had about ten minutes to locate the resident and get him out. After that, the roof was going to start to cave. We busted through the front door and found the living room smoldering, but not yet fully engulfed in flames.
“HOWARD! Fire department, call out!” I yelled, as I turned the water on a patch of smoldering carpet. We moved through the living room putting out the embers as we headed toward the back bedroom. I hollered again, “HOWARD! Waltham Fire Department! Call out! We’re here to help you! Can you hear me?”
I listened for a moment, but heard nothing. I shot a stream of water down the hall and put out the flames that had climbed up the walls and were threatening to spread to the front of the house. When the crackling sound died down, I heard a small sound coming from the bedroom.
“Tony! I think he’s in there!” I shouted, as I yanked on the hose. I kicked open the bedroom door and came face to face with a wall of flame that shot out at us. I quickly raised the hose and opened the valve as wide as I could, hitting the flame with the water and watching as it sputtered out under the weight of the liquid. When it was out, I listened closely and heard a small sound coming from the closet.
I walked over and looked inside the smoke filled space. In the far corner, I saw a fat tabby cat laying on its side, panting with its eyes closed.
“Are you Howard?” I asked, as I reached down to lift the cat up. It opened one eye and hissed weakly at me before he let me pick him up and tuck him under my jacket. I handed the hose to Tony and said, “I need to get him out to the medics; finish putting out the hot spots in here, and I’ll be right back.”
I could feel the cat struggling to draw a breath now, so I quickly retraced my steps and exited the house in a dead run toward the medics. I handed the cat over and headed back into the house where I saw that something had ignited in the living room. The flames had spread across the front of the house, and I had a bad feeling as I pulled my mask down and ran headlong back into the building.
“Tony! Cal! Get your asses in here with the hose!” I shouted, as I looked around the room and saw a space heater still plugged into the wall sparking and smoking. “NOW, Goddamm it! Get in here now!”
The heater was on its side, still running, and I could see that the curtain next to it had started to smoke. I knew better than to get anywhere near it since it contained oil and could explode at any second. Instead, I grabbed the quilt off the back of the couch, and from a distance, tossed it onto the heater, covering it as much as I could. When Tony and Cal hit the living room, I grabbed the hose and aimed the water at the quilt, soaking it completely before I ran over and yanked the plug out of the outle
t.
The danger averted, we hosed the rest of the interior of the house down and made sure that the fire hadn’t climbed up into the walls. The guys on the roof had hacked holes in it and vented the building. I knew that the entire place would have to be torn down, and as we packed up our gear, I felt sympathy for the homeowner.
I looked around and saw the blonde woman standing near the ambulance as the medics held a mask on her now very angry cat. I walked over to find out if the cat would be okay, and was surprised when the woman turned around.
“Ms. Fowler!” I said. “I had no idea it was your house. I’m so sorry we couldn’t save it.”
“You saved Howard,” she said, as tears ran down her cheeks. “That’s the only thing that matters to me. Thank you.”
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked, as I watched her wipe away the tears with the back of her hand.
“They said he’s going to need to be in the oxygen tent at the vet’s for a few days, but he should make a full recovery,” she said, as she cast a glance at the charred remains of her home.
“What about you?” I asked. “Do you have a place to stay? Family?”
“Oh, I’ll go with Howard and then figure something out,” she said, smiling weakly as a couple of Red Cross volunteers stood off to one side waiting to speak with her. “It’ll be fine. I need to call the insurance company and find out what to do. But thank you for asking, Mr. Gaston.”
“Blake, please call me Blake,” I said.
“I’m Emily,” she said, holding out her hand. “Thank you for saving him, Blake. He’s an ornery little guy, but he’s all I’ve got.”
“I’m glad we could do something good in spite of all of this,” I said, gesturing to the smoking building.
“Your guys are waiting for you,” she said, nodding at the engine that sat idling in the street with the door open.
“I’d better go,” I said, turning toward the truck. I walked a few steps before I turned and said, “Do you need a ride somewhere after you take care of him?”
“I can call a cab,” she said, waving me off. “It’s all good. But thanks.”
The whole ride back to the station, I couldn’t stop thinking about how small Emily had looked compared to the day I’d met her for the conference. At the conference, she’d been in charge of the discussion and had played into all of the “hot teacher” fantasies I’d had as a high school boy. Today, she looked lost and alone, and I wondered where she was going to go and why there was no one to come pick her up from the vet’s.
By the time we pulled into the station, I’d made up my mind about what I was going to do as soon as I got off shift. Back in the locker room, I grabbed my things, wished everyone a Merry Christmas, and headed straight for my truck.
Chapter Fourteen
Emily
I stared out the back window as the ambulance pulled away from the smoking remains of my home. Everything I owned had been inside. I’d managed to grab a coat and my purse before I’d run out of the house, and the Red Cross volunteers had given me a small amount of cash and a voucher for three nights in a local motel. Unfortunately, I’d left my phone on the coffee table, and I was pretty sure that it had been destroyed by either fire or water.
The EMTs had suggested that they drive Howard and me to the closest vet clinic so that I could get Howard checked out. He wasn’t happy about the fact that the EMT was struggling to keep an oxygen mask over his face, but he wasn’t fighting very hard, and I knew that wasn’t a good thing.
At the clinic, the techs whisked Howard from the arms of the EMT and took him back to the treatment area as the receptionist directed me to the waiting area. She brought me a cup of coffee and said that the doctor would be out as soon as they’d assessed Howard’s injuries. I nodded and sat down in a corner chair.
The quiet struck me as odd until I remembered that this was Christmas morning, and that the rest of Waltham was most likely gathering around their trees to begin their celebrations. A wave of grief flowed through my body, causing me to set my coffee down before resting my elbows on my knees and burying my face in my hands as I cried quietly.
“Ms. Fowl—Emily?” a familiar voice cut through my sadness. “Are you okay, Emily?”
“Huh?” I said, looking up to find Blake Gaston standing in front of me holding a cup of coffee, a white bag with the word Patisserie on the side, and my cell phone. I looked at the offerings and then back up at him. “Where did you find that? What are you doing here?”
“I saw it on the table and grabbed it before the guys sprayed the room. I don’t know if it works. Mostly I wanted to check on you and see how Howard is doing,” he said, continuing to hold the food and drink out. “I didn’t think you’d have gotten breakfast.”
“Thank you,” I said, taking the cup and the bag from him.
“Mind if I sit down?” he asked, looking around the waiting room.
“No, please, have a seat,” I said, as I set the coffee down and opened the bag. Inside were a large chocolate éclair and two glazed donuts. I took a donut and offered the bag to him after he’d sat down next to me.
“No, I’m good,” he said, shaking his head. Thinking he was just being polite, I held the bag out until he sheepishly admitted, “Actually, I ate three of those suckers on the way over, and I’m a little full now.”
I laughed as I bit into the sugar-covered circle of fried dough and chewed thoughtfully.
“How’s Howard doing?” he asked, as he avoided my gaze.
“Good,” I said with a mouthful of donut. I picked up the coffee and drank before speaking again. “The techs are with him now, and they said the doctor will come out as soon as she’s examined him.”
“How are you doing?” he asked, looking over at me. I swallowed hard and looked away.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I said, trying to keep my tone light as the reality of the situation began to settle in. I inhaled sharply and looked down as I fought back tears. I set the coffee cup down as he spoke again.
“Seriously, how are you doing?” he asked, as he slid an arm around the back of my chair and leaned in closer. “You don’t have to fake it with me. I was there. I saw your house.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” I whispered, as I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around my waist and choking back a sob. The bag of pastries fell off my lap, and a donut rolled across the floor. Blake reached out and grabbed it before kneeling down in front of me.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he reassured me, as he rested a hand on my shoulder. “It’s all going to be all right.”
“You don’t know that!” I cried. “My cat is hurt, and I just lost my home! And on Christmas!”
Blake wrapped his arms around my body and pulled me close as he rubbed my back and repeated over and over that everything was going to be okay. I remained tense and closed off as he rocked me slowly and murmured reassurances. Slowly, I relaxed into his embrace, and after a few minutes, I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder as he held me.
“Ms. Fowler?” the tech called from the door. “You can come see your boy now.”
“He’s alive?” I asked through tears, as I lifted my face from Blake’s shoulder.
“Oh goodness, yes!” the tech laughed. “He’s a little singed in places, and he inhaled a good deal of smoke, so his voice is a little ragged, but he’s mad as hell, and I’m pretty sure he wants to see his person.”
“That’s Howard,” I said, nodding as I wiped the tears from my face and took a deep breath. Blake stood up and offered me a hand.
“I’ll just wait out here,” he said. I nodded and followed the tech to the back of the clinic, where Howard sat inside a large wall cage staring angrily at the wall and growling anytime someone walked by.
“Hey you, why are you so mad?” I asked quietly. At the sound of my voice, Howard whipped his head around and began mewing pathetically. That set off another wave of tears, as the tech unlatched the door to the cage and let me reach in and pick my s
cared cat up and hold him in my arms. Much like I’d done with Blake, Howard rested his head on my shoulder and mewed softly as I held him to my chest whispering, “You scared the hell out of me, fat man! Why didn’t you come when I called?”
The doctor came over and gave me the rundown on Howard’s condition, telling me that it was probably best if he stayed in the clinic overnight so that they could monitor the effects of the smoke he’d inhaled. If all of the readings were normal by tomorrow morning, I could take him home with me. I nodded and thanked her as the tech came over to administer Howard’s medications. He protested weakly as I put him back in the cage, but the tech gave him a pain shot, and soon he was asleep.
Back out in the waiting area, Blake sat thumbing through an old copy of Sports Illustrated. He gave me a questioning look, and I nodded.
“Okay, good, he’s going to be all right,” he said, as I sat down next to him. “Do you have someplace to go? Family? Friends? I’m happy to drop you off.”
“I…I…I don’t know where I’m going to go,” I said quietly, before I began crying again. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“Hey, hey, hey, it’s all good,” he said, draping an arm around my shoulder. “Why don’t I take you back to my house and you can get a shower and something to eat, then we’ll figure out what to do next?”
“Are you sure?” I asked tearfully.
“Absolutely,” he said, standing up and offering me a hand. “Let’s get you a shower and some breakfast, and then we’ll figure out what to do after that.”
An hour later, I emerged from a steamy shower to find that Blake had left a well-worn flannel shirt, sweats, and a pair of wool socks for me on his bed. He’d taken my soot-stained clothes and tossed them in the wash, and when I emerged from the bedroom, I’d found him singing along to Christmas carols as he flipped pancakes and tended to the bacon that was under the broiler.
“How about a nice, hot cup of coffee?” he asked, as he passed me a steaming mug and gestured to the cream and sugar sitting on the counter.