Daring Devotion (2 page)

T
he heat was suffocating. Flames of orange, red and gold danced around him in menacing cadence, teasing and taunting mercilessly. But nothing could sway Cal's attention from the small figure clutching the wall on the other side of the room.

When he'd first spotted the child, he could not believe his eyes. It was Marco, one of the many neighborhood children who hung around the firehouse with hero worship in their young eyes. Cal hadn't seen him in several days, but now here he was in the midst of an out-of-control blaze in the abandoned Hadley Building, a condemned former office complex in the heart of downtown.

Cal took in the gaping hole in the center of the floor as his mind constructed a way around it. “Hang on, Marco, I'm coming!” He slid slowly to the right, trying not to disturb the fragile, burnt wood surrounding the hole. If it got any bigger, he would never reach the other side.

“Cal? Cal is that you?” Marco lifted his head from his crouched position, recognizing the voice of the firefighter. “Help me, Cal!”

“I'm coming, little man, just hang on!”

He moved with care and precision, his eyes darting between the opening in the floor and the small, terrified creature on the other side.

By the time he was twelve years old, Cal was as tall and broad as an average sized adult male. An anomaly that had been both a blessing and curse. His size had kept the bullies at bay—after all, no one challenged a six foot seventh grader—but he also realized that he did not fit in the usual places that kids his age did, and soon became the butt of jokes and teasing.

To counter what he felt was his own clumsiness, he became very conscious of his movements. Even now, he could almost move with the stealth of a ninja. This skill had served him well in his line of work, especially at times like this when a lack of movement was critical to success.

Moving along the wall, he came to a corner and edged around it until there was only a small space that he had to cross in order to reach Marco. He shifted on the ball of his left foot to leap across the gaping abyss. He made the leap and landed only inches from Marco, but behind him the floor disappeared, burning away until only six inches of floor remained behind him.

He scooped the feather-light child up in his arms, and turned to put his back against the wall. He surveyed his options, and realized there were none. He could not go back the way he'd come because the cavity in the floor had widened so that it was almost impossible to cross. Even if they made it, the surrounding wood was so fragile it probably would not support their weight.

On his other side, the fire was eating its way through anything in its path and heading straight for them. Cal knew then that he had no choice but to try to leap across the opening, and
hope
that they made it. The only other option would be wait for the fire to consume them.

He shifted the boy around so he could look at his face. “Marco, I'm going to put you on my back. I need to have my hands free to hang on once we make the jump.”

“Jump?”

Hearing the panic in his voice, Cal knew he had to act quickly, before the boy had a chance to scare himself into refusing to cooperate. He pushed his small body around and over his shoulder, didn't have to tell him to hang on. Marco was already clinging to him like a spider monkey.

“No matter what, don't let go!” Cal said, taking the fateful leap just seconds before the flames covered the wall they'd been leaning against.

The next few seconds happened so slowly, Cal felt as if he were experiencing some kind of a weird dream. He could see the ledge on the other side, and then suddenly it was no longer there and they were free falling through space.

Down into the abyss of a swirling river of flames that covered the lower levels of the building. Suddenly, Cal felt something clamp down hard on the collar of his rubber jacket, and he realized he was suspended in midair.

“Hang on, Cal! I've got you!” Even muffled by her oxygen mask, Cal recognized the voice of Marty, the only female member of the team.

He felt himself being towed upward, one inch—stop. The movement started again, another half inch—then, one hard yank. She relaxed her stance to catch her breath, and her heavy burden slipped back down three inches.

“Get the boy!” Cal called, his voice infused with fear as he felt the boy's tight little clawlike nails losing their hold. “He's slipping! Get the boy first!”

Marty reached over his shoulder and lifted the small burden. The child went willingly as Marty sat him behind her. Then she went back to trying to lift the much heavier man.

Cal felt his spirit plummet. Marty was more than capable of pulling her weight—but not his. Cal could feel himself slipping even more, slowly and steadily out of her sweaty grip. He knew that as sure as the sun rose in the morning, Marty would never let go of him, which meant she would go over the side with him. He couldn't let that happen.

“Let me go, Marty!” he shouted through his fogged mask. “Let me go!”

“No!”

He came up an inch.

“No!”

He came up another inch. Trembling with the effort, she relaxed her exhausted muscles just a fraction, and he slipped back down a half inch.

She can't do it,
Cal thought, and somehow, someway, he had to make her let him go.

He looked down into the nothingness beneath him. The wide opening of burnt wood that spiraled down at least twenty feet left him feeling as if he were staring into hell. Instantly he realized he'd made a critical mistake.

A
swirling
hell…vertigo.

“Take the boy and get out of here!” he shouted, but when he felt her continuing to pull, he knew he was being ignored.

His head felt light, as beads of sweat popped out on his face beneath his oxygen mask. Without thought, his large feet began swinging back and forth trying to find purchase on one of the many, jagged levels that had not burned completely away. He knew he should've just held still, but panic had taken hold of his brain.

“Cal, stop! I'm losing you!”

The fire burned below, the orange and red flames dancing in anticipation of the feast of flesh it was about to devour. The heat surrounding him, inside and outside of his suit had him near fainting, something he'd never done in his entire life.

The tip of one foot reached a small, solid foundation just another inch below him. He experimented with putting pressure on the surface. Cal was certain if he could just get his foot firmly on the small, unburned portion of the next level, he could get clear of the opening.

He pushed his body in the direction he wanted to go. His only consolation was that if this did not work, the fall would kill him before the fire ever reached him. Even in death, he refused to give the monster its due.

Cal's foot touched on the landing just as the wood surrendered to the inferno. His body slid and scraped along the jagged edge until his fingers hooked onto something that felt like a handle and he broke the fall. Using both hands to hold, he tried to lift his heavy form up and over the ledge. Even though the edge had broken away, most of the charred landing was still in place.

As Cal hung dangling from the edge, he realized it was times like this when a man would be tempted to question God. Death at the hands of the very monster he'd spent his life working to defeat just didn't seem right.

And what about Andrea? He could clearly see her beautiful face. Big brown eyes filled with more compassion than he'd ever imagined existed. Her golden-brown skin. Her cute little upturned nose and full lips. He'd waited his whole life for a woman like her and now he would lose her, as well. He should've married her a year ago, when he first proposed. Why had he waited so long?

“Cal! You down there?” He heard a man's muffled voice coming from somewhere above. It was Dwight. Marty had gone for help. Cal could sense more than see the group of firefighters peering over the edge a few feet above. He was too exhausted to speak, but he had to find the strength, otherwise his team would believe him dead.

“Yeah, I'm still here,” he called back and tried to lift his weight over the edge.

“Hang on! We're coming!” Dwight called down into the opening.

Cal tried to lift his body again, and managed to get his left shoulder up over the edge. He hung, listening to the crackling wood and running feet. The feeling of helplessness was a new sensation.
And not a pleasant one,
Cal thought.

This blaze was probably the worst they'd seen in some time, and the closest he'd ever come to meeting the Grim Reaper. Cal felt large, strong arms clamp around his torso and start to pull him up. Then other hands grabbed the back of his jacket and hauled him over the edge. Tommy took him under the arms while Jeff grabbed his legs and pulled up and over. The pair quickly rolled his large body back away from the edge.

“We've got him!”

From somewhere in the distance, he heard Dwight calling. “Let's go! I can't hold it much longer. Let's go!” Dwight had been busy trying to secure an exit route for his team.

“Where's Marco?” He looked in every direction, before noticing the small bundle tucked in Marty's arms.

Braced between Jeff and Tommy, Cal used his own legs to run out of the building, despite his dizziness and nausea. A rhythmic bumping noise behind them signaled the others had caught up.

Following the path made by Dwight, the group quickly found the back entrance and exited into the empty alley. In the distance Cal could see the lights of an ambulance flashing, as well as the firemen's ladder truck, and a couple of police vehicles. He found himself being twisted this way and that as Marty satisfied herself that her friend was still in one piece. The sound of scanners and radios were emanating from every direction.

Jeff tried to help guide him to the paramedics, who were now coming down the long alley to meet them halfway. Cal allowed the man to brace him as he watched the world spinning around him.

Cal took off his helmet and mask and shook his head hard, trying to dispel the feeling of vertigo that seemed to be lingering. He felt more than a little nauseous, and pushed Jeff away as he felt himself becoming sick.

Before the paramedics reached them, Cal turned toward the brick wall, and shielded himself as best as he could while emptying his stomach, his head spinning, his stomach churning. His friends closed in with worried expressions.

Unable to stand any longer, Cal leaned his back against the wall and hung his head in complete exhaustion.

He heard the paramedics quietly discussing the best way to transport their large victim. Then the stretcher appeared and Cal was laid out across it. He closed his eyes to stop the white clouds from spinning overhead.

“We'll meet you at the hospital.” He heard Dwight in the distance. With his other team members wishing him well, the paramedics rolled Cal back to the ambulance and loaded him.

As the doors on the vehicle closed and Cal heard the siren sound, he silently wondered what was wrong with him. He'd been prone long enough to have regained some sense of equilibrium. But still he felt as if the world was spinning around him and he had no gravity.

He watched the technicians go about their routine, inserting the IV and dispensing the necessary medications. He answered their questions as best he could with head shakes and nods. He took a deep breath and decided that whatever was wrong would soon correct itself. He was Big Cal, nothing kept him down for long, not even a near-death experience.

He closed his eyes and thanked God for another miracle, the latest in a long line. His mind went to Andrea. He desperately needed to see her, to hold her, to know that she was real because that would mean that he was real. That he was still alive in all the ways that mattered.

“C
al.” Andrea scooted up on her knees to use her full strength to rock the man beside her as he thrashed about wildly on the bed. “Cal!” She ducked, barely missing a swinging arm. “Cal! Wake up!” She pushed hard against his tense form. “Wake up!”

Large eyes opened in bewilderment. “What?” Cold brown eyes turned to her and the lack of recognition sent a chill down her spine.

“It was a nightmare.” She rubbed her hand along his jawbone. “You were having another nightmare.”

He looked in every direction seemingly surprised to find himself in her bed. Finally his troubled eyes settled on her again just before he ran his large hand over his face.

It had been almost a month since the fire in the Hadley building, and something deep inside of Cal had changed. Andrea sensed it and saw it in his behavior. In the past few days, Andrea had seen something she thought she would never see. Her fearless man had become hesitant.

Andrea had met Cal over a year ago, although she remembered it like yesterday. He'd come to visit Marty in the hospital where she was recovering from smoke inhalation. From the moment Andrea saw him, Cal had exuded a kind of larger-than-life confidence, and being the self-doubting person that she was, Andrea had been drawn to that self-assuredness. She'd known instinctively that he was everything she'd never known she needed, water to her parched soul.

Over the past year, they'd struggled to find their way through the complex maze of contemporary relationships and had seemingly come to the inevitable conclusion that they belonged together.

When Cal had proposed almost six months ago, her instant answer had been yes. And on that day something strange had happened to Andrea. Something that she was finding harder and harder to deal with. For the first time, she began to contemplate what it meant to be the wife of a firefighter. What she'd discovered was not good.

The never-ending sense of dread. The empty feeling that settled in the pit of her stomach every time he began a seventy-two-hour rotation. The feeling would not go away until he returned to her after a call, safe and sound. And the apprehension had not stopped there. It followed her to work where, as a nurse in the emergency ward, she became more aware of the number of firefighters that came through the E.R.

And on one horrible day, less than a month ago, she'd had her worst fears confirmed when she looked down at the gurney and saw that Cal was the patient. But something strange and wonderful had come out of the experience, something Andrea could not share with anyone, not even Cal. Something she was ashamed to admit gave her such pleasure. Cal had lost his sense of invincibility.

She could remember any number of times she'd been in the firehouse when the emergency call came in and Cal would take off with a sexy grin and the wink of an eye, excited and pumped for the challenge. It was all she could do to wait for him to leave before she dropped to her knees and began to pray. Cal absolutely loved fighting fire.

It was the greatest obstacle in their path and the one thing Andrea thought was unchangeable.

But since the Hadley building fire, that wickedly playful gleam had left his eyes. He'd doubled the drills for his team. He'd become careful, and Andrea knew there was nothing as dangerous as an overly cautious firefighter. Which meant…he'd have to give it up. Now, all she had to do was wait for him to realize it.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly, already knowing the answer before he shook his head and rolled over.

Almost every night he'd spent with her since the accident had been the same. She'd wake him in the middle of a nightmare, and he'd shrug it off as nothing, roll over and go back to sleep.

“Why won't you talk to me?”

“About what?” he mumbled into the pillow.

“About the fire. About what really happened.”

“I told you a thousand times, baby, nothing happened.”

“Is this…” She hesitated. More than once he'd snapped at her when she attempted to ask questions regarding exactly what happened. “Because of Marco?”

Marco had recently been released from the hospital. He'd had to stay longer than Cal to have a skin graft covering a six-inch patch of burnt skin on his arm. But given what could've happened, Andrea thought, the boy had been incredibly blessed.

Of course, Cal had taken full responsibility for that, as well. “You saved his life, Cal, the skin graft was a small price compared to—”

“I don't want to hear it, Andrea! You weren't there—you don't know what you're talking about!”

A cold silence settled over the dark room.

Sometimes Andrea felt as if she was trying to cuddle up to a wounded bear. She sighed in defeat and turned back over to her side of the bed and snuggled under the covers.

She stared at the wall seeing right through the darkness. She studied the outline of the soft pink watercolor painting of a vase of peonies. Once again, her mind was swirling with conflicting emotions, many of which she knew she shouldn't feel. Even in the midst of Cal's crisis some part of her was blossoming with hope. There was no way he could go back to being a firefighter, not in his current state of mind.

And as much as Andrea hurt for him, as much as it pained her to see him in such turmoil, some part of her still preferred it to the
who-gives-a-damn
way of looking at the world he had before. That attitude was dangerous, reckless, and…ultimately fatal.

After several minutes, Cal turned over to spoon her. His large hand came over her hipbone and settled in the crook of her body. Although Andrea sensed the movement wasn't meant to be arousing, she had no control over the tinkling sensation that started in her toes and worked its way up her body. It had been that way from the beginning. The most casual skim of his hand, an accidental brush of bodies and she was wired for action.

Cal was the first man she'd ever known who had that kind of effect on her senses, and in her heart she knew he would always be the only one who could.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered in the dark. “I didn't mean to snap at you like that.”

She sighed. “No, it's my own fault. As many times as you've told me to leave it alone, you think I'd give up.”

He snuggled in closer, wrapping his large body around hers. “Don't ever give up on me, baby. No matter how much like a jackass I behave.” He squeezed her against him so quickly and so tight Andrea could barely breath, and just as quickly he released his viselike hold. “Don't ever give up on me.”

Andrea said nothing. His words were too close to her fretful contemplations.

Cal propped himself up on one elbow. “Look, what happened to me is nothing new, it comes with the job. The bad dreams—all that will stop eventually. It's just that it is still fresh in my mind. I'll be fine.”

She turned to face him. “So, it has nothing to do with feeling like you failed Marco?”

“Maybe a little. But I'll get over that, too. I just need some time and your understanding.”

The patient look in his soft brown eyes and his gently spoken words made her brave, and Andrea decided to voice her one hope. “Cal, maybe you should give up firefigh—”

He quickly covered her lips with two fingers. “Shh, don't even think it.” He chuckled. “Really, I'm going to be okay. Like I said before, it's just part of the job.”

“But, Cal, if you can't—”

Suddenly, he reached up and pulled her head down to his, covering her mouth with his own. He quickly kissed her once, just a soft peck as if exploring for her response, and it came quickly when she returned the kiss, but with more conviction.

Looking into her eyes, his full lips spread in a slow smile before his eyes closed and he kissed her again, this time with all the precision and finesse that Andrea had come to expect. Slowly, he shifted their bodies, bearing her back down into the bedding.

Andrea felt his warm, calloused hands on each of her thighs as he worked his way beneath the thin silk teddy she wore. She gave a sharp gasp, feeling his rising bulge against her thigh.

She moaned softly, feeling his hot breath on her neck and then his warm tongue as he nibbled and licked his way down her neck headed straight for her exposed cleavage.

Unable to hold back any longer, Andrea reached out, taking his head between her hands, needing to kiss him again. She needed the familiar taste of his tongue in her mouth and of their own will, her legs fell open.

Cal knew an invitation when one was extended. He lifted himself up to remove his pajama pants and Andrea immediately sat up to help work them down his hips. He chuckled at her anxiousness, and placed his hands over her trembling ones. Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear.

“If you don't slow down, this is going to be over before it begins.”

Ignoring his words, Andrea pressed her hungry mouth against his rock hard midsection, working her way up his warm, muscular chest and continued pushing the offensive pants down his legs. She desperately needed to get them off of him.

Lifting her arms, she waited impatiently for him to unsnap the teddy and pull it over her head. And then her hands were all over him again.

“You're so beautiful,” she whined, feeling the ripple of muscles under almost every inch of skin she touched.

Cal gently pushed her back down onto the bed. “No, baby, you are the beautiful one.” Coming over her, Cal braced himself on his elbows, as his penis sought her entrance. He struggled to control his breathing, to slow himself down, but it was hard when her warm, wet opening was reaching for him, trying desperately to draw him inside her body.

Andrea felt her heart beating like crazy when the tip of his penis entered her. She parted her legs as wide as possible, wanting nothing more than for him to drive deep inside of her…when the telephone rang making both of them jump in surprise.

Ignoring it, she reached up and grabbed his hips, trying to pull him inside her before it was too late. She had a pretty good idea of who was calling. Whenever his cell phone was turned off,
they
called her house. Just one more reason to despise the Detroit Fire Department.

“Hurry, baby, I need you so bad,” she cried, feeling Cal hesitate.

He looked down into her needy eyes, farther down to where their bodies were almost joined, his erection standing at full tilt, then, cursing under his breath, he rolled away from her to answer the phone.

Andrea reacted without thought, slamming her fist against the pillow. “But you're off duty!” She knew she sounded like a spoiled child, but she couldn't help it.

“I'm the chief now, Andrea. I have to be available at all times.” He picked up the cordless phone from its base. “Hello?”

His eyes widened and his head swung around to Andrea. Sensing something was terribly wrong, Andrea sat up in the bed as Cal continued the conversation.

“Hello, Mrs. Chenault. Uh, yes, she's here. Um, just one moment.” He covered the mouthpiece on the receiver. “I'm sorry, baby. What the hell is your mother doing calling here at two in the morning?” he whispered nervously.

Andrea subconsciously glanced at the clock as if to mentally confirm the time. There was only one reason her mother would be calling at that hour.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she accepted the phone. “Hi, Mom.”

“Andrea, I'm down at Detroit Receiving Hospital.” Margaret Chenault's naturally soft voice was fainter than usual, and Andrea struggled to hear her. “I'm sorry to bother you like this, but do you think you can come get me?”

She was already scooting to the edge of the bed. There was no reason to ask why her mother was in the emergency room at two o'clock in the morning, she already knew.

“I'll be right there.” A few seconds later, she hung up the phone and studiously avoided Cal's eyes. She went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

Cal sat on the side of the bed watching her in silence. The amorous mood had completely dissipated.

Finally, when it became obvious Andrea was not going to volunteer any information, he asked the question, already knowing the answer. “He hit her again, didn't he?”

Andrea was fully dressed and slipping her feet into a pair of sandals. “Yes.” She spoke barely above a whisper.

Instantly Cal was behind her protectively wrapping her in his arms, as if he could physically shield her from the pain. He asked another question that he already knew the answer to. “Can I come with you?”

Andrea dropped her head, and whispered, “No.”

“Why won't you let me take care of him? Trust me, after I got through with him, he wouldn't be hitting anybody.” He spoke with complete conviction, and Andrea believed him, which was why she refused his help.

“He's still my father, Cal.”

Cal rested his chin on the top of her head. “Why you feel any loyalty to him is beyond me. But just so we understand each other, Andrea. If he ever lays a finger on you…all bets are off.”