Two Hearts Rescue: Park City Firefighter Romance

by Daniel Banner

  Slade watched intently, listening deeply, obviously not working on arguments in his head. Having admitted being biased, he seemed much fairer that Poppy had expected.

  “Rebuttal,” said Slade. “Risk little to save little. I’ll take the risk of biting my tongue. Risk a lot to save a lot. Even if my heart was in any shape for it, I will never take that risk again.”

  Silence settled over the room for a few seconds. On a silent signal, all of the firefighters nodded.

  “Above all else,” said Slade crisply, obviously moving on to a new point, “guard your heart.”

  That sounded familiar to Poppy. From the Bible, maybe? “Objection!” she shouted, a little too excited. A couple of the firemen chuckled at her exuberance. Poppy plugged the words into Google as fast as she could. Sure enough it was a verse from the Bible. “Listen to it in context. ‘Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.’ That sounds like an argument for giving your heart to the right person.”

  Slade studied her for a moment, face unreadable, then looked back down at his notes. Emily gave her a nod.

  “Next witness,” said Slade. “Old Guy. How many times have you been married?”

  “Four.”

  “Would you do it again?”

  “I’d rather lose an arm than get married again.”

  Slade nodded as if his point had been made.

  “Cross-examine,” said Poppy, feeling like she was getting the hang of it a little bit. “Why not, O.G.?”

  “Too hard on the wallet,” he said instantly. “If I get divorced again I’ll have to pay the state every month once I retire instead of the other way around.”

  This time Poppy nodded as if her point had been made. Slade saw, but didn’t crack a smile.

  “I’ve loved a lot of women,” said O.G. “And despite what I say, it’s probably only a matter of time until I meet future ex-wife number five.”

  “Over and over you have made the commitment, given yourself to someone, and every time you get hurt,” said Slade. “Even you, Poppy. You are the main witness in favor of giving my heart away, but how many guys have you loved?”

  How much did he know about her past? She hadn’t been that detailed had she? Without Poppy’s consent her face went bright red. The statement hadn’t necessarily been made judgmentally, he’d just been using her circumstances to make his case. But again, how much did he know?

  “That’s a low blow,” said Poppy. The tension in the room picked up as everyone suddenly grew interested in the allusion to her seedy past.

  “Love is a low blow,” said Slade. “It sidles up to you and makes you feel better than anything, only to reach in when you are most vulnerable and rip the very heart from your chest.”

  He pulled the wig from his head and set it on the podium as his face grew serious.

  “Poppy, Counselor, I love your smile possibly more than anything on this planet. And you are probably the enoughest person I’ve ever met. But ironically it’s still not enough to convince me. It’s not even about being enough. My heart is useless for love.”

  Poppy jumped in. “You risk your life for other people every day. How can such a selfless heart be useless?”

  “Those people I get to see once only. I never form an attachment. I do what I do and go on my way.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You can’t know,” said Slade. “I gave my heart away. With everything I had, I gave it. It’s mine no longer.”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” said Poppy in a frustrated voice. She felt like she’d told him that a hundred times. “I know Jenny was great, but you don’t get to choose what someone else does with your heart. But, hey, I get it. It’s not me, it’s you.

  “If it please the court, let it be shown that in the deposition stage of this trial, Counselor Poppy agreed that under any circumstances the biases displayed in the proceedings would not be taken personally by any member of the court. I move that her previous comment be stricken from the record.” He knew he had her on this one; she could tell by his smug smile.

  “Objection sustained,” murmured Poppy.

  “My final argument,” said Slade. “In the movie Men In Black, Will Smith’s character, J, quotes Tennyson, saying, ‘You know what they say: it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’”

  “Tommy Lee Jones, K, already tired of the short conversation leans in and in a dagger-to-the-heart tone, says, ‘Try it.’”

  Slade’s face was grave. It wasn’t showmanship. He had agreed to hear the case, and he’d emptied his soul to defend his side.

  It was a few moments before he could speak. “Ladies and gentleman, having tried it, I rest my case.”

  Scattered applause came from a few of the firemen.

  “Now,” said Slade looking at Poppy, “are you ready to present or would you like to confer with your counsel.”

  With all eyes on her, Poppy felt nervous. So much for her bulletproof case. Without even hearing what she had to say, she felt like he’d already shot holes all through it. But Slade had stepped up under short notice and made his argument in front of people he had to live with. Poppy could be as brave.

  “No need to confer, your honor. I’m ready.” His hair was mussed from the wig, but he looked as good as ever. She still hadn’t figured out whether he was partly flexing or not.

  Stahp. Okay, time to concentrate and not on the Adonis in the room.

  “The floor is yours,” said Slade. He pulled a stool to the podium and sat, ceding the floor to Poppy.

  The last point Slade had made was the first one Poppy had prepared.

  Here goes nothing!

  “’Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’ One of the truest and most popular lines of poetry in the world.”

  “Objection,” stated Slade.

  What? Already? “How can you object to evidence that you just barely admitted?”

  “When Tennyson said it, he wrote it in memoriam of a friend who died suddenly. Platonic love isn’t the same as romantic love.”

  Well shoot. There went that argument.

  “Another excerpt for the Poet, and this one does deal with romantic love. From the Desiderata: Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.”

  Slade nodded slowly as he considered. “I will give you that love is persistent, no matter what comes. But, does persistence indicate worth?”

  “Love is persistence,” said Poppy. “It’s the sickness and health until death do you part. It’s putting up with someone’s annoying habits because compared to the amazing person you are in love with, squeezing toothpaste from the middle of the tube is nothing.”

  “Exhibit A,” said Slade. “Me and Jenny. It should have lasted, but it didn’t. We had the ‘perfect’ love until one of us changed their mind.”

  “Of course it was perfect,” interjected Poppy. “You were seventeen. It was butterflies and hormones and the world was laid out in front of you.”

  “So love is only real if you’re an adult?” asked Slade. “Is that a requirement I missed out on?”

  “Teenage love is teenage love,” answered Poppy. “It can grow and develop, but it can not last forever. Eventually the pixie dust wears off, and sometimes the love lasts, but sometimes it doesn’t.”

  “Show of hands,” said Slade, turning to the others. “All who agree that teenage love is simply a precursor to true love raise your hand.”

  After a moment of consideration everyone in the audience raised their hands, even Boston, the grumpy-looking dude who was filling in for JFK today.

  “Objection upheld.” Slade turned back to Poppy. “However, you yourself admit that it doesn’t always last.”

  “How boring would that be?” There was something in Poppy’s notes about joy in the unknown and excitement in struggle. She paged through until she found it. “You are a Utes basketball fan, correct?”


  “I bleed red and white.”

  “How much would you enjoy a season where they won every game by 50 points? It would be fun for a game or two, but what’s the point of even playing if there is no question, no struggle? Blowouts are fun once in a while, but how much more do you enjoy a game after there is struggle, you get behind, you fight back, you win?”

  “Sports don’t hurt as much as love,” answered Slade quickly.

  “It’s the same with everything in life. Without conflict there is no story worth telling. The defense, or prosecution or whatever I am presents The Princess Bride as evidence. If Westley and Buttercup had stayed on the farm and did as they wished, no one would have ever heard of them, and no one would ever say mawiage is what bwings us togetha today. It was the separation, the struggle, the doubt that makes the story so sweet.”

  “What if, like the ice cream shop, the sweetness isn’t worth the suffering to me?”

  “Love is about so much more. It’s being changed and improved because you want to be better. It’s giving yourself completely to someone and trusting them. And if they give you yourself back and you’re broken, then to paraphrase C.S. Lewis the pain then is part of the happiness now, once you have overcome the struggle and come back from an unwinnable position. The greater our love for someone the greater the risk for pain, but also the greater the chance for joy.”

  Poppy felt like she was on a bit of a roll. Whether it was getting through to Slade, she didn’t know, but she wanted to keep up the attack.

  “I call my next witness, Slade Powers.”

  He spread his arms in a gracious gesture. “The witness is yours.”

  “I have one question for the witness: Would you be the person you are today if you hadn’t fallen in love with Jenny?”

  “No,” said Slade. He chuffed an annoyed burst of laughter. “I would be better. More whole.”

  “That is a matter of opinion and perhaps a topic for another court. Because the man that I love—” Poppy gulped, yeah she had just said that—“is the man standing at the head of this court.”

  Keep going, she told herself. Don’t give him time for a defense.

  “My next witness is Boston.”

  The grumpy guy in the middle of the room sat up a little, but still looked like someone who didn’t want to be spoken to. Slade was on the verge of laughing, and the amusement in his dark blue eyes showed that he was anxious to see where this went.

  “Boston,” said Poppy, “what do you say on the matter?” This was one hundred percent faith in Emily, who swore the guy would be a valuable witness for their side. He was very good looking, one of the calendar-candidate types, but he just didn’t look like he’d ever smiled in his life.

  He cleared his throat and ran his thumbs along the inside of his belt as he stood. Then he scowled at the room in general. “Thanks to that poor excuse for a firefighter, Tommy, and his big mouth, you all know I left Boston FD under auspicious circumstances. A girl died, a firefighter, and that’s on me. To keep things short, I was broken. Until I met Samantha I never wanted to be close to anyone, not family, not you all. I don’t know how it happened, but she fixed me, even though I didn’t want to be fixed and more than that, I knew I was unfixable.”

  Boston spread his hands and in a half-growl, said, “I rest my case,” then sat back down and continued glaring at everyone.

  Wow, out of all guys who could have been called in to fill in for JFK’s sick day, what were the odds that guy came in?

  God really does work in mysterious ways.

  “The defense has one more item of evidence.” Poppy pulled her driver’s license out of her pocket but didn’t let anyone see what she held. “On a certain date in September, you stated that you needed a muse. Do you recall stating that?”

  “Yes.”

  “And is the person you referred to as your muse in the courtroom now?”

  “Yes.”

  She wondered if he had noticed her laugh, then hesitation, then astonishment that day. Her almost tears. It was the first time she’d ever been called a muse before, despite the evidence in her hand, and she would never forget it.

  Poppy cleared her throat. “For the benefit of the audience, please point at that person.”

  Slade pointed at Poppy.

  “Let the record show that I am the muse.” Poppy took a breath for confidence. It was hard showing so much confidence in another person’s opinion of her in front of so many people. “The defense enters Exhibit B.” She handed her driver’s license to Slade and gave him a few seconds to look it over.

  When his eyes met hers again, she could see that he was entirely off balance. It really hadn’t been an act when he’d called her his muse back at her parents’ house. He really hadn’t known. In this gaze, she knew that her point was made. That she could sit down without closing arguments, knowing that the final piece of evidence had swept the legs out from under the judge and jury. There was a chance she might win this case.

  Someone whispered in the courtroom.

  Poppy should probably let them see the point. “For the benefit of the court, please read the name on the license.”

  “Kalliope Mercier.” He pronounced her name correctly, which really didn’t happen when people read her name. Kuh-lie-oh-pee Mare-see-eh

  “And whose picture appears on the license, Your Honor?” Poppy held her hands behind her back to keep them from trembling. Maybe she had read too much into a random statement he had made and her name. Coincidences were everywhere. How would Slade see it? If the gaze was any indication, he knew and he was affected deeply, but how reliable was that.

  “It’s your picture, Poppy.” Slade sniffled and she could see moisture gathering in his eyes.

  It was working!

  Then again, first she made him share his poetry, and now she was making him cry in front of the guys. If he didn’t love her back, he was definitely going to hate her.

  “And, Poet, in Greek mythology, who is Kalliope?”

  Slade swallowed, lips clenched tight, but tongue working as if trying to suppress emotion. Silence and anticipation filled the room.

  He cleared his throat. There was awe in his voice when he said, “Kalliope is the muse of epic poetry.”

  That had hit him. He was off his game. It was time for the defense to rest.

  Poppy took a few breaths, not trusting herself to speak. As she opened her mouth to rest her case, strident tones rang from the speakers in the ceiling.

  Battalion 1, Ladder 1, Medic Ambulance 1, Engine 4, respond to a rollover.

  The voice gave an address and more information as the firefighters hurried toward the apparatus bay.

  Slade came to Poppy.

  “You never told me your real name.”

  “Only my mom calls me Kalliope. She hates my nickname.” What were they doing? He had a life to save. “Go, Slade. I’ll wait here for you.”

  “Don’t bother, Kalliope. We’ll probably be gone for hours.”

  Kalliope. She did feel like a muse when he said it. Poppy pushed him gently toward the door, resisting the urge to hold tight as soon as she was touching him. “I … will never leave.”

  With one eye on her, Slade jogged toward the door and pushed through it.

  All of the emotion she’d been holding came crashing out of her like a broken water balloon. She felt herself shuddering and the tears were already pouring out.

  Sage walked up with a tissue. “You did great.”

  Poppy wiped her eyes, then folded the tissue and dabbed more tears. “Thanks. Think it will work?”

  “You’re his muse! How could it not?”

  Poppy noticed that Sage had been crying too. The whole audience had been there for the whole case, and apparently Poppy and Slade weren’t the only ones affected by it.

  She went on. “I had my doubts about Cam too. It’s horrible but it took me and one of my students almost dying to convince him. Honestly, I wouldn’t change how it happened for the world.”

 
; The sound of a siren starting up made Poppy jump. “I wish I was looking back at the struggle instead of out of it.”

  Sage gave her a hug. “We’re all pulling for you.” She released Poppy and leaned back to look into her face. “Want me to wait with you?”

  Poppy shook her head. She was ready to be alone for a while.

  “Sure? They could be gone all day.”

  “No, I’m staying. If A platoon has to call the cops in the morning for me trespassing, I’ll still be here. Even if I have to handcuff myself to the table with plastic zip ties.”

  “Okay, I’ll write my number on the white board. Call if you need anything. I’ll be bugging Cam later to see how things turn out.” Sage jotted down her number. “Here, I’ll turn on the fireplace. You should wait over here where it’s all cozy.”

  “Thanks,” said Poppy, and Sage left.

  That was it. She had done everything she could. Now what?

  She prayed quietly. “Please, Lord, let the judge and jury decide not to be an executioner.”

  Poppy grabbed a couple more tissues from the counter at the side of the room and plopped down in a chair in front of the fire. Snow flurries blew by the window outside, an early fall storm had come with force. The sounds of the siren trailed off into the distance.

  “And please, Lord, bring him back safely.” Poppy dabbed her eyes again.

  She was going to need more tissues.

  16

  Slade watched Poppy’s truck, Cardinal, fade into the snow curtain. Whether it was still sitting in the station parking lot when he got back from this call, he’d see. With a storm like this, they could end up going from call to call all day long.

  Snow flew past the window as he rode backward on the ladder. Emily was driving well below the speed limit, but with little visibility and various cars that had slid off the road it felt like a hundred miles an hour.

  A semi had rolled over on I-80 in Parley’s Canyon, one of the most treacherous stretches of highway in Utah. Slade should be running through possible scenarios in his mind and planning the optimal responses, but he was still torn by Poppy’s argument. Kalliope’s argument. That name was way too much coincidence.