Romance in the Rain

by Anthology

  A few seconds later, he heard a click and the sweetest softest voice. “Daddy?”

  “I’m here, baby.”

  “Coco was barking. I got scared, but then I heard Dani.”

  “That’s right. Dani’s coming to get you. You be a big girl and do what she says. Okay?”

  “Okay. I’m not going to die, am I, Daddy?”

  The air left his lungs in one awful whoosh, as though the building had collapsed on his chest. Beside him, Rickie made a small keening sound. “No. Of course not,” he said, more vehemently than he should have. Softening his tone, he asked, “Can you see Dani or Coco yet?”

  “Coco came back.” He heard slurping sounds accompanied by Chloe’s giggles.

  An ache started deep in his chest. “I love you, baby.”

  Dani’s voice came over the air, calm and light. “I’ve got her, LJ.”

  “Good. Turn her radio off.” He waited to hear the click, then spoke to Dani. “I’ll try to ask questions you can answer without scaring her. What’s on her? Is it the vending machine?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you lift it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you pull her out from underneath at the same time?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Too cramped?”

  “Time is a bigger issue.”

  Shit. How could he have forgotten? If he didn’t pull it together and keep a cool head, he’d get them all killed. “Levels?” he asked Drew.

  “Almost critical. Ten minutes.”

  “We need to get SCBAs to them,” Hollywood said.

  “How?” asked Colin. “Dani’s the only one who fits, and even that was a tight squeeze.”

  Jesus Fucking Christ. Had he really thought his luck was changing? He was a goddamn idiot. Now his child and one of his team members were essentially trapped without masks and instead of planning how to get equipment to them, he’d been praying.

  “I’ll do it.”

  He heard Rickie’s words but couldn’t make any sense of them. “Do what?”

  “Bring tanks and masks to Dani and Chloe.”

  “Absolutely not.” Civilians did not participate in rescue missions. Ever.

  She rounded on him then, arms on her hips, eyes blazing. “Look, Jamie. I’m the only one who can do it. All of you are too big. I know I can fit; I’m smaller than Dani.”

  “Honey, you have no training. You’ll just get hurt. And those tanks are heavy.”

  “Don’t you ‘honey’ me, James Caldwell. I’m their only chance, and I’m a hell of a lot stronger than you think.” Without looking back, she grabbed his SCBA from the ground and headed the way Dani had gone.

  He lunged forward and grabbed her elbow. “At least let us outfit you properly. Evan, give her your trousers and extrication gloves.” Given that he was almost a foot taller than his wife and outweighed her by a hundred pounds or so, his own turnout gear would be more hindrance than help.

  Drew came up beside him, shrugging out of his jacket. “Take my jacket. With the sleeves rolled up, it should be okay.”

  Once she was dressed, Jamie helped her adjust the shoulder straps and waist belts of the SCBA, then he took off his helmet and secured it on her head along with the mask. “Click here to turn the radio on and off. There’s an amplifier in the helmet.”

  Hollywood brought over another SCBA. “Try not to bang it around too much.”

  “Shouldn’t I bring two extras?”

  Jamie rubbed the back of his neck. Did she think she was Wonder Woman? “Each air cylinder weighs about twenty-five pounds. Think you can get through all that rubble lugging an extra seventy-five pounds?”

  She gulped. “We’ll share.”

  “Smart choice.” When she turned to leave, he stopped her with a hand on her arm. She looked up and arched a brow. “Turn on the radio now. Dani will talk you through to her location.”

  Following his earlier instructions, she turned on the radio and started to leave. He stopped her again. She sighed. “Now what?”

  “Be careful.” He could convince himself he hadn’t said the three words he most wanted to say so that he wouldn’t upset her right before she started out. But that would be a lie. He hadn’t said it because he was a coward. If they were all going to die, he’d rather die with the illusion that had he said those three words, Rickie would have said them back.

  Erica stared into Jamie’s eyes, saw fear and resignation. He cared about her. It was obvious from his tone and his expression. But did he love her? Unless she heard the words, she wouldn’t know. Too much had happened between them, and she couldn’t trust her judgment or her instincts where he was concerned.

  She nodded. “I’ll follow Dani’s instructions to the letter.”

  Her heart full of words and emotions she’d refused to let out for years, she picked up the second tank and mask and walked over to where she’d first seen Dani enter. “Dani?” she asked, checking to make sure the radio was working.

  “Right here, Erica.”

  “I’m at the spot where you started—the big heating duct.”

  “Okay, you’ll need to belly crawl through it. It’ll be a tight fit with the SCBA on your back, but you can make it. Push the other tank in front of you.”

  With careful movements so as not to throw herself off balance, Erica got down on her knees and slid the tank into the duct. The interior was so dark, she needed the flashlight or she’d be fumbling around blindly.

  “When you get to the end, the tank will bump into a wall,” Dani continued. “You’ll have to turn it to your left.”

  The bulkiness of the unfamiliar clothing made the distance to the other end seem interminable. Because her gloves were too large, she kept dropping the flashlight, and her bunker trousers kept sliding on the slippery material of the duct’s surface. Like a child on a Slip ‘N Slide, each time she pushed forward with her knees, she’d fall face first. Inch by inch, despite the new set of bruises on her legs, she pressed on and eventually the tank hit an obstacle.

  Angling it in the direction Dani had instructed, she edged her way out of the duct only to end up squished between a wall and a downed support beam. God, how did Jamie and his team do this on a daily basis? She took a deep breath.

  Suck. Hiss.

  The uneven sound of her breathing in the faceplate was overwhelming and made her realize just how vulnerable she was. “I’m out,” she said.

  Dani must have heard the shakiness in her voice because unlike earlier, her tone was calm and encouraging. “You’re doing great, Erica. Walk along the wall and the beam about ten yards until you get to a point where a second beam has fallen over the first. Oh, and lift up the second tank in that area. There’s a lot of sharp metal on the ground there.”

  Wonderful. Erica looked down at her poor abused running shoes. This is when those thick fireman boots come in handy. Too bad she wasn’t wearing any. She should be grateful though. There wasn’t much room, but at least she could stand and walk more or less normally. Using the light from the helmet, she picked her way along the wall, avoiding whatever metal she managed to see. Unfortunately, the beam from the flashlight was narrow, and she didn’t see the jagged edge of the filing cabinet in time. She stifled a scream as it cut through the rubber sole of her sneaker.

  “Erica?”

  Using the wall for support, she lifted up her foot and shined the light on it to examine the damage. The bottom of her shoe had a big gash in it. At least her foot had been spared. Sort of. Her heel burned and a few drops of blood oozed through the hole in the rubber.

  “You okay, Erica?” Dani asked again, sounding anxious.

  “Nothing I can’t handle.” She’d suffer through this and much worse for her daughter. Cautiously, she started walking again, following Dani’s instructions.

  After a few moments, Dani broke the silence. “So, how are things going with you and Jamie?”

  Suck. Hiss.

  Adrenaline surged through Erica’s system at the question. I
t was bad enough her life and her daughter’s depended on this woman. Did Dani have to rub in the fact that she was Jamie’s girlfriend as well? Gritting her teeth, she spat out, “Seeing as how he’s dating you, I’m sure you know exactly how well things are going.” Bitch.

  Dani laughed. Laughed!

  Erica forced her feet to keep moving, reminding herself that Chloe—not Jamie or his other relationships—was the only thing that mattered. When she reached the overlapping beams, she reined in her anger and said, “I’m there. What now?”

  “Crawl over the beams at the point where they intersect, then go right about forty-five degrees. If you’re in the right place, in six yards, you should reach the failed support column I cut through.”

  Erica examined the beams, trying to figure out how she was going to get over their combined height. The beams reached her shoulders and without footholds or something to step on, there was no way she could pull herself and the extra fifty pounds of tanks she was carrying over. Despair dug serrated claws into her heart. Maybe Jamie was right. Maybe she’d let her pride override her abilities. She wasn’t trained and she had no idea what to do. Inhaling deeply, she fought back the tears burning her eyes.

  “Find something you can stand on to help you over,” Dani added gently.

  Why hadn’t she thought of that? Mustering up her courage, she searched the nearby debris and located several large blocks of cement and some wooden planks.

  “We’re not dating, you know.”

  Erica paused in the act of organizing her findings into a table of sorts. “Jamie cancelled his evening with Chloe because he was going out with you. He told me himself.”

  “Well, he lied then,” Dani said.

  “Why would he do that?” Erica finished building her platform and tested it with one foot. A little wobbly, but it would have to do.

  “To make you jealous, maybe?”

  Standing on the platform, she lifted the second tank on top of the beams and settled it in the space between them. Then she hoisted herself up, pulling with all the strength in her arms. But the weight of the tank on her back dragged her back down. While one foot landed squarely on the platform, the injured one slipped off the edge. “Ow!”

  “Everything okay over there?” Dani asked, her voice anxious.

  Ignoring the woman’s question, Erica asked one of her own as she massaged her ankle. Boots were definitely non-optional when traipsing through a minefield of obstacles as dangerous as this one. “Why should I believe you?”

  “I’m not interested in Jamie.”

  That drew her up short. “Why not?” Erica blurted before she could stop herself. The man was gorgeous, smart, and made good money. Any woman in her right mind would want Jamie.

  So why don’t you?

  Thankfully, Dani’s response meant she could avoid her own question. “I’m in love with his brother.”

  “Drew?” she asked, unable to keep the incredulity from her voice. Two firefighters getting involved would be a disaster. She bounced with her knees and stretched her arms as far as she could, then jumped. Her hands hooked on the far beam. Swinging her feet to the side, she anchored one leg over the first beam. Tightening all her muscles, she pulled herself up and flattened herself on the beam to keep from falling.

  Suck. Hiss.

  Sweat streamed down her back between her shoulder blades. The temperature inside her turnout coat had to be at least one hundred and ten degrees. No wonder Jamie and his team didn’t have an ounce of fat on them.

  Dani’s laughter rang out. “No way. Drew’s like a brother to me. I meant Will.”

  Was it some sort of firefighter rule that they had to shorten everyone’s name? “Does Jamie know?” Since the separation, Jamie had been living with William. Maybe Dani had been using one brother to get the other.

  “Yes. He’s been helping me out.”

  “Really?” Having regained her breath, Erica twisted her hips until she was aligned with the V of the intersecting wooden beams and let herself slide down, pulling the extra tank after her. Once her feet hit the ground with a solid painful thump, she scanned the area and identified the forty-five degree direction. Her limping steps were about half a yard each, so twelve or so should get her to the support column.

  Dani sighed. “Jamie keeps finding excuses to invite me over. But Will has no idea I’m alive. As far as he’s concerned, I’m just one of Jamie’s work buddies.”

  Erica wasn’t surprised. Of all the Caldwell brothers, William—the accountant—was the least likely to go for a tomboy like Dani. He harked back so thoroughly to the Caldwell’s aristocratic British forebears that he should have an accent. If William even owned a pair of jeans, Erica would be truly shocked. “Good luck with that one. Okay, I’ve reached the cement beam.”

  “Push the spare tank through first, then follow. The hole is about two feet high and it might be a bit of a tight fit. When you reach the other side, go straight about ten feet until you reach a pile of junk.”

  A pile of junk? Okay. Shoving the tank in ahead of her, she concentrated on squeezing herself and the tank on her back into the two-foot hole. Once again she was entombed in complete inky darkness, save for the glow from her flashlight.

  Suck. Hiss.

  The sound of her breathing added to the creepiness of the cave-like hole. Her chest tightened, making it hard to squeeze air into her compressed lungs. All she needed now was to have a panic attack and get stuck here. Everyone she cared about would die.

  “I walked in on Jamie today, sitting at the table in the lunchroom, staring at the divorce papers.”

  Dani must have noticed the change in her breathing. Erica laid her head on her arm, gripping the flashlight and the extra tank, while attempting to calm herself. “He told me he lost them.”

  “I don’t think he wants to sign.”

  The cement was rough, with sharp edges that tugged at her trousers. The suspenders kept them from being pulled off, but the Velcro straps around her ankles did nothing to keep them from riding up her legs, exposing her skin. The jacket scrunched up under her arms and the sleeves pushed up to her elbows. Jagged cement tips tore through her turnout gear and scraped her lower legs, forearms, and belly. It felt like she was being dragged over a cheese grater, and each new cut stung as fresh sweat dripped into it. Nothing in her life had prepared her for this.

  If Dani’s goal with this conversation was to distract her from her mounting anxiety, it was working. “What makes you say that?” she asked, pushing with her feet to inch herself forward. Dust rose up and coated her facemask, blinding her. She stilled and wiped a gloved hand across it, listening, waiting for Dani’s response.

  “I figure if he’d wanted to sign them, he’d have done so already. When a guy wants free of the ball and chain, it doesn’t take him three months to autograph a few sheets of paper.”

  Her stomach clenched—whether with hope or fear, she wasn’t certain. Why hadn’t Jamie said anything to her? When they’d met with their lawyers, he’d agreed to everything. She’d expected—hoped—he’d put up some sort of fight.

  “So you want this divorce?” Dani asked.

  As Erica reached for the spare tank, her sleeve snagged on a piece of rebar that stuck out from the cement. She tried to jiggle it free, but the metal was anchored deep. “That’s not what I said.”

  “Maybe not, but that’s what it sounds like.”

  “What do you mean?” Frustrated with her inability to free her sleeve as much as with Dani’s comments, she yanked her arm as hard as she could and ripped the turnout jacket free. With her elbows, she hitched herself forward like a caterpillar until the hole narrowed and the tank on her back screeched against the cement. She rolled onto her side so there’d be more room for the tank, and with her feet anchored as best she could with her running shoes, she wiggled her hips and propelled herself forward. Soon the spare tank started to tip over the edge. Holding tightly, she slowly lowered it to the ground. Dani’s answer came as Erica crawled out f
rom inside the concrete support beam.

  “Seems to me you’ve done everything possible to shove Jamie out of your life. Out of his daughter’s life.”

  “It’s what he wants.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Something inside compelled her to give voice to her deepest concerns. But was Dani the right person to confide in? “There’s no guarantee he’d be around anyway.”

  “What?”

  “Isn’t this situation answer enough? Jamie could be killed at any time.”

  “Look where you are, Erica. Right now, you’re in more danger than he is. Anyone can die at any time.”

  There was a silence over the radio, but she had nothing to say. Her own father, an elementary school teacher, had died on his way home from work, killed by a drunk driver. There were no guarantees for any of them.

  “But you know what, Erica?”

  “What?”

  “If you push him away now, he might as well be dead.”

  Suck. Hiss.

  Oh God. She was such an idiot. She’d been so determined not to depend on Jamie, so determined to prove that she could raise her daughter alone, so determined not to be her mother, that she’d erased Jamie from their lives, depriving herself of a wonderful husband, and depriving her daughter of a loving father.

  Assuming they survived this night, and assuming he still loved her, did their marriage even stand a chance? If they worked at it, could it survive as well?

  Qué será, será. She couldn’t dwell on this now. The only thing she needed to focus on was saving their daughter. She’d reached the pile of junk. “I’m at the pile. Where do I go from here?”

  “Unfortunately, you’re going to have to crawl over it.”

  Misgiving tightened her chest as she looked from her sneaker-clad feet to the mound of rubble. Steeling her spine, she cradled the spare tank in her arm and placed her foot on a sturdy-looking block. She pushed herself up, careful to keep her balance. After cresting the pile, she slid one foot forward until it caught on a piece of wood. She nudged it to see if it would hold and huffed out a breath when it did. She could do this. She would.