Chapter 8: Duties
Most of the kids were girls, but one, who led the charge to climb into the cab of the ladder truck, was a blond boy with an impish grin.
Mallory sighed as she lifted him into the cab. They always had an impish grin. This one had glasses that made his huge eyes even bigger.
And he had lots of personality.
“My daddy drives a truck and it’s bigger than this,” he said to her as she raised the seat so he could see out the windshield. He wouldn’t be able to, but the kids loved the ride.
Her heart fluttered in her chest. He was five. She knew this with all of her being. His mother had the tired look of someone who answered questions all day and felt relief when the boy went to sleep.
“Trucks that big aren’t good for firefighting,” she said.
She helped his small frame out of the cab, afraid she to drop him. His smell, his touch, sent her to a place she did not want to go. Sweat trickled in many spots despite the air-conditioned firehouse.
Kids made her nervous. Maybe Jesse did this on purpose. He wanted kids and knew she wouldn’t.
Didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be having any children.
The boy looked up at her. “Lady?”
Had he asked her a question?
“I’m sorry honey I didn’t hear you?”
“Do you drive this truck?”
“I am qualified, and, yes, on occasion, I do bring it to a fire. We don’t use it for all fires.”
He cocked his head, his blond hair fell over his forehead. She longed to brush it away but knew one had to be careful about touching children.
Her heart swelled both with pain and love. This kid was a killer.
“They let girls drive trucks?”
She laughed. It bubbled out of her, lessened her cardiac ache. “Of course. We girls can do lots of things.”
“Even save the world?”
She knelt down to be eye level with him. “Yes, girls can even save the world.”
Trey had wandered into the firehouse just as the tour wound down. The children’s laughter had drawn him. There was nothing so sweet and innocent as those giggles and squeals.
He didn’t understand why Mallory looked ragged as if she’d gone ten rounds with a prize fighter. His arms itched to pull her close, but she’d never wanted that from him.
Kids and moms filed past him out the back bay door. They didn’t see him. He’d become part of the invisible, like the janitors and maids of the world. No one saw who was important; who was right in front of them.
His muscles ached from a day of hard physical labor. He wouldn’t need to workout tonight.
But he would need to pin down Mallory. If she wasn’t going to help, her presence here would hinder him.
Wouldn’t it?
He sighed, not sure if the suggestion had come from the cold rational part of him or the emotional side he didn’t let loose.
Mallory leaned against the back of the ladder truck, letting out a noisy breath.
Trey made sure no knights in Nomex armor lurked about to protect her. “You look beat.”
She straightened and stiffened. Her lids sat half-mast on her face. “You shouldn’t be in here.”
He put a hand on one of the trucks. “Don’t you let the carnies in here?”
A wave of emotion raced across her face then was gone. “Something like that.”
He leaned in closer to her, his mouth nearer to her ear. He whispered, “I need an answer.”
“And I need more time,” she said through gritted teeth.
He straightened. “We don’t have any time. We’ve detected some movement.”
“What kind?” She held up a hand before he could answer. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“Yeah, you do.”
She shook her head and screwed up her face as if she’d tasted bad medicine. “Don’t pull me in unless I want to be pulled in.”
“You want it.”
Maybe he just needed her back so much he thought she wanted back in the spy game. She’d gained a little weight since he’d last seen her, though, then, she’d been just out of the hospital and packing her bags to leave. He didn’t think he’d studied her at that point.
He wouldn’t have seen her at all if he hadn’t come home early. She would have left him like a thief in the night. The idea still cut a divot in his heart.
Crossing his arms, he gazed at her, willing her to answer him. Willing her to look him in the eye. Willing her to still care about him.
She didn’t seem to do any of those things. She just sat with her eyes closed, leaned her head against the red metal of the fire truck.
Her eyes popped open but looked past him. “I need another day.”
“You’re the fair lady?” a man in a brown uniform asked.
Fair Lady? Trey had never thought of Mallory as a damsel in distress.
“That’s me.” She pushed to her feet. “You need a signature?”
“You bet.”
Now Trey understood.
She signed the clipboard and the man handed her a package. He left. She didn’t open it but set it on the truck’s bumper. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“Break time. Union rules.”
Her shoulders slumped and he wondered what she’d gone through to seem so defeated. It had just been a bunch of kids. Most of them cute. No one screamed or cried.
What was her problem besides him?
“Fine, I’ll go,” she said.
She snatched the package then brushed past him.
“I’ll be by tonight to get your answer,” he said.
“Maybe I won’t be there.” She whirled, her eyes on fire. “Maybe I don’t stay home nights waiting for the government to decide to need me again.”
“You’ll stay up nights if more people are killed. Kids especially.”
Her fire banked and he knew he hit the mark.
“That was low.”
“I do what works.”
Cal stood on the other side of the fire truck. He hadn’t heard the actual words Mallory and that carny spoke to each other, but he knew she hadn’t wanted to speak with him.
Her tone said it. In her five years at the firehouse she’d spoken to one other person like that as far as he knew.
He glanced around the truck to see the man stroll away. Something about his posture set Cal on edge.
Mallory walked to the bathroom. Not walked, but dragged her feet.
That was how he felt, but she shouldn’t be that bad off. He wanted to follow, but Mallory had always been a private person.
He sighed which he’d been doing a lot of late.
He moved in her direction. “Mallory?”
She stopped and when she turned to him, her face held a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Yeah?”
“You okay?”