Too Near the Fire (2 page)

“What do you like to be called?” he asked, walking slowly down the narrow hallway.

She wanted to be flip and answer: I’ve been called just about everything, but you can call me Leah if you want. She fought the urge. She didn’t dare allow humor into this tense situation. Above all else, she wanted to be accepted by the fire fighters. She couldn’t afford to hurt anyone’s feelings at this point. She had learned through harsh experience to be a shadow—seen but not heard. Otherwise the men reacted strongly and negatively to her presence. It was part of the price she paid for deciding to become a woman fire fighter.

“Most people call me Leah. My nickname down at the academy was Cat.”

He tossed a glance over his shoulder. “Is that because you have pretty green eyes?” he asked, a slight smile hovering around his mouth.

Confused, Leah suppressed her own smile. Why was he treating her so nicely? Anders had made it clear that no one welcomed her here—why should Gil Gerard be different. The officer appeared to be in his early thirties, a confident man with an open, readable face. She liked his features: He had black hair, intelligent eyes, a strong nose, and a rock-solid jaw. More than anything, Leah found herself liking his mouth. It wasn’t thin or thick but mobile, expressive, with the corners lifting, indicating that he smiled a great deal. She gave a sigh and her shoulders dropped slightly. In her heart she knew that the officer she was assigned to would either make her or break her.

Meeting Gil’s interested gaze, she realized she still owed him an answer to his question. “I got tagged with that down at the academy because on night exercises I could see hot spots before anyone else. They said I had eyes like a cat, so it stuck. I’d rather be called Leah, though.”

Gil nodded, pursing his mouth. He halted at the bay, putting his hands on his lean hips. “It pays to have good night vision,” he agreed amicably. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to our ladies here in the bay and then show you where we spend most of our time when we aren’t polishing the engines or the floors.”

He missed nothing in proudly showing her the “ladies.” Most fire fighters referred to the trucks as female. The self-contained breathing apparatus, or MSA air paks, were resting on specially constructed steel braces behind the drivers’ seats. When the alarm went off, whoever was assigned to get into air paks would leap into the “jump seats,” slip the gear over their shoulders, belt up, and donning air masks, ready to enter a burning building by the time they arrived on the scene. The air pak enabled a fire fighter to work in a smoke-filled structure without being overcome by the noxious atmosphere or deadly fumes.

Leah caressed the shiny lime fender of one Darley engine with her long, slender fingers as Gil stopped near the front of it. He patted the truck affectionately. “You’ll soon find out we have names for all these gals.”

“And a few curse words, I’ll bet,” she added, smiling hesitantly. There was something about Gil that made her feel safe about letting down her guard and allowing a little bit of her private self to show.

“Well, we have Lady here, and naturally, she is one. She behaves real well no matter what the weather conditions are or how sticky a situation gets at a fire scene.” He walked over to the second pumper. “This one we call the Beast because she always gives her driver a problem. A real cold starter. Won’t cooperate with you at all if she’s throwing one of her fits.” He grinned, his teeth white and even against his darkly bronzed skin. “Just like some women.”

Leah shrugged. “Maybe she just needs a more gentle touch…a little more understanding,” she said hesitantly.

One eyebrow rose in response. “Could be. Did you have much experience driving these rigs down at the academy?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact they had Darleys.”

He nodded. “Good. I’ll keep that in mind. We may need you there if we find ourselves in a bind,” he murmured, sounding pleased.

She frowned. At a paid fire station each fire fighter was assigned a specific job and rarely stepped into any other specialty. If a man was a driver and pump operator on an engine, he always remained in that position. It sounded as though she would be a “gopher,” doing the myriad jobs that were demanded of a fire fighter at a scene, but having no one specialty. Though she didn’t feel comfortable with Gil’s comment, she said nothing as she followed him back to the next pumper.

“This is Molly, our aerial ladder. We’ve got some three- to five-story buildings around here and occasionally we need her services. The last one here is Lizzy and she’s our squad truck. We take her out on extrication runs, medical emergencies, and other miscellaneous duties.” Gil halted, resting his tall frame against the squad truck, and looked at her for a long moment.

“I understand that you specialized in auto extrication down at the academy.”

“Yes, I loved it. I joined a volunteer fire department while I was down at Reynoldsburg and the extrication officer, Harry Billings, sort of took me under his wing and showed me the ropes.”

Gil looked impressed. “Harry’s one of the best,” he agreed, his voice taking on a new tone of respect. “I did all my training under him down at the academy years ago. Did you make any runs?”

“Five,” she admitted, deliberately trying not to recall those scenes. She hadn’t been ready for the blood, the screams of the people trapped inside the wrecked cars. No one had prepared her for the emotional side of the work. She had been sick more than once after the victims had been extricated and were on their way to a hospital in an ambulance. Harry had stoically waited until she was done and then they collected the gear. His only words were: “You’ll get used to it after a while, Leah.” And her returning comment had been: “I doubt it.”

“Blood bother you?” Gil asked, interrupting her thoughts.

How should she answer? If she was honest, it did. But if she owned up to it, he would think her weak and incapable. “No,” she lied.

He reacted as if he’d expected no other answer. “Depending on how you work out here, Leah, I need someone besides myself who can run the extrication equipment. I get called in every time we have that sort of job.” He smiled, and his face lost its momentary seriousness. “I have other things to do during my days off, so maybe we can eventually work out some sort of a system.”

“You get that many calls?” she asked, a little surprised.

Gil nodded. “Yeah, we’re right off a turnpike and a major interstate. And because northeast Ohio is so heavily industrialized, we have more spills of hazardous materials here than in any other part of the state.”

Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “How many fire calls do you get a year?”

“About three hundred fire runs and two hundred miscellaneous ones, including mutual aid with four other volunteer departments that surround our town’s border. We keep pretty busy. You like to fight fires?”

She considered it a silly question. “Of course,” she answered, stung. “I didn’t put myself through the academy for a lark.”

Gil held up both hands. “Easy, I was only wondering.”

She felt a rapport with him and decided to take a chance. “Lieutenant, why aren’t you treating me like the plague? Most fire fighters would.”

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, shifting his weight to one leg. “A couple of reasons, I guess. One, I’m not from Baybridge originally. Two, I’d like to consider myself open-minded about a woman doing this job.” He frowned. “If you prove to be able to handle the runs, I’ll be a hundred and ten percent behind you. But if you don’t cut it, I’ll be the first to recommend your dismissal,” he warned.

She compressed her lips. He was like all the rest. She would have to be twice as good as any male rookie and make half as many mistakes as any other man who might hold the same job. Well, it was too late to turn back and slink into her old way of life. When she had divorced Jack she had said goodbye to the suffocating lifestyle that she had led for six years.

“Are you saying that the rest of the fire fighters are locals?”

He ran his strong-looking fingers through his hair, pushing a stray strand off his forehead. “They are. As two outsiders, we might even call them clannish and backward,” he admitted ruefully. “This town is an agricultural area for the most part, with a few coal mines and coal trucks thrown in.”

Leah stepped away from him. She was drawn too easily to his quiet magnetism. He was handsome in an interesting way, a way that attracted her and at the same time frightened her. “Why are you being so helpful?” she demanded.

“Until you give me cause to treat you differently, I won’t discriminate on the basis of your sex.”

She eyed him distrustfully. She had run into two types of fire fighter thus far. One type disdained her completely and treated her with angry silence. The other type tried to seduce her, seemingly turned on by the thought of a woman doing a dangerous job. Gil Gerard seemed to be the latter…but she wasn’t sure.

She touched her brow, managing a fleeting smile of apology. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I sound like I’ve got a chip on my shoulder. It’s just that I’ve endured a hell of a lot of chauvinism.”

“Yeah, you got a little chip on your shoulder,” he commented, a slow grin pulling at his mouth. His eyes were dark and sparkled with mirth. “And I do have to admit, I did fight fires with a woman before I joined here, so I have a little more experience in the matter than the rest of the fellas.”

Leah’s eyes widened. “You did?”

Gil shrugged. “I was a volunteer fireman before I joined a paid department.”

“For how long?”

“Five years.”

“And how long have you been paid?”

“Three.”

She stared at him. “And you’ve made officer already?” There was a newfound respect in her voice. Being a fire officer wasn’t some cushy job gotten through political pull. No, the man or woman selected had to have a lot of intelligence and experience to be sending a fire team into unknown and many times dangerous situations.

“I’m good at taking tests,” he said, trying to minimize his credentials, as he led her around to the opposite wall where the turn-out gear was neatly hung.

“You have to be more than a good test taker to get the rank,” she observed seriously, stopping at his shoulder.

“Hmm, I suppose. Let’s try and find some gear that will fit you.” He emphasized the word
fit.
For the next half hour Leah tried on every coat and every pair of boots and bunker pants in the station. Nothing fit. It was all too large. Especially the boots. She sat on the chair, sliding off the last pair.

“We’ll have to order you an outfit,” Gil acknowledged as he hung the last coat back up on its hook. “Probably take a couple of weeks, if I know our dispatcher.”

Leah looked up at him sharply. “I’m not about to sit out fire calls for that period of time!”

“I wouldn’t let you anyway. For now, let’s get the closest fit, and tomorrow when we’re off duty I’ll take you up to Cleveland and we’ll get you some decent gear. Deal?”

Either he was an angel or he had an angle, Leah decided, mulling over the tempting invitation. She had just rented an apartment and most of her articles were still packed. It wouldn’t be much fun spending the day there alone. Furthermore, she was unacquainted with the area and knew it would be better if he were along. Still…she didn’t want to socialize with anyone here at the station. She had read enough articles in
Fire Chief Magazine
by women fire fighters to realize that irate wives would probably be calling to see if their husbands were “safe” from the new female at the station. Idly, she looked at his left hand. There was no wedding band there. That didn’t mean anything, though, and Gil had mentioned that he did like his days off. Many times the stress of fire fighting drove a wedge into a family, and divorce was too often the result.

“Well?”

“Oh…sorry, I was thinking. I’d appreciate it, Lieutenant, but I don’t want to take you away from—”

“No problem,” he returned smoothly. “I’ve made it a point to make sure my team has the best protection and the most training possible, and you’ll be no exception to that rule. You can’t effectively do your job in a pair of poorly fitting boots. You’d be falling all over yourself.”

Leah grinned. “That brings back a lot of memories. For the first two weeks at the academy I had a coat that was four sizes too big and boots that came off my feet every time I took a step.”

“You must have been damn good, then,” he praised, “because I got a chance to look at your academy records. Lousy-fitting gear would be enough to put some fire fighters out of commission altogether.”

She put her sensible black shoes back on and then stood up. “I couldn’t let that happen to me. I just gritted my teeth and told myself I was going to do it better than any of them, and I guess I did.”

He tilted his head, studying her in a new light. “I like your aggressiveness, Leah. Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of the crew. It’s almost time to pick straws to see who makes dinner tonight.” The other three fire fighters looked up when Gil escorted her into the kitchen-and-dining area. Leah automatically tensed, sensing the coldness in the air.

“Fellas, this is Leah Stevenson, our new member. She’s got eyes like a cat, from what she tells me.” He pointed to a small wiry man who had dark hair and eyes and an olive complexion. “This is Tony DiGeronimo, but everyone calls him Apache even though he’s Italian because no one can pronounce his last name in a hurry. He’s been on board for seven years and is one hell of a fire fighter.”

Tony sized her up. “Welcome aboard,” he said, smiling openly.

“And this good-looking string bean is Sam Wilson. He’s our driver and pump operator. He’s been on board for fifteen years and there isn’t a thing he doesn’t know about Darley pumps.”

Sam managed a sour grin, nervously turning his coffee mug in his hands, his lanky arms on the table. “Except for the Beast out there.”

She smiled shyly, trying desperately to appear relaxed beneath the men’s intense scrutiny. “Hi, Sam.”

Gil motioned to his right toward a man who was scowling darkly at her. “This is Duke Saxon and he’s been with us for three years. I think he’s been involved in about every dangerous structure fire we’ve ever made a run on. Always been at the wrong place at the right time.”