Firefighter With A Frozen Heart

Puttering his way along the back road, Jess wasn’t in any particular hurry to return to his cabin. It wasn’t that he minded being alone. That’s the way he spent most of his life now. In many ways, it was preferable. Getting involved, having someone be the center of his life … what was the point? As much as he’d loved Donna, he hadn’t been able to make the real commitment to her, the one every future bride should expect from the man she’d consented to marry. He’d tried. Gotten involved in the plans, smiled when she’d talked about the dream. Their dream. But she’d known he’d been struggling with all that … permanence. Had asked him about it, even though he’d denied it. Yet it had been something he hadn’t been able to hide, and the closer they’d got to that permanence, the more it had shown on him. Then he’d hurt her and for that he’d never forgive himself. She’d loved him and in return he’d broken her heart.

Was that what she’d been thinking about when she was killed—her broken heart, his inability to be everything she deserved?

Even now, two years after Donna’s death, there wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t replay those last few moments with her. Could he have done something different? Been different for her? Maybe faked the feelings? Faked the whole happy with the domestic lifestyle thing until he had settled in and it had become a habit?

Donna Ingram. Beautiful. Smart. Full of life. She’d always led with her heart and, in so many ways, he envied that. All she’d wanted had been a normal life with a man who’d never had normal in his life. Impossible odds, as it had turned out. And overwhelming regrets.

Tonight Donna was on his mind, as she often was. Tonight, though, Julie Clark was also on his mind, but for other reasons. Julie had been his first love and, once upon a time, they’d made plans, too. Sure, their plans had been childish. They’d talked about running away together. Or maybe getting jobs and saving their money so they could backpack or bike across America, or Canada, or the whole of Europe. Impractical plans that had seemed so real and so exciting for a short time. But then Julie had thought she was pregnant, and, stupid kid that he was, he’d been thrown for a big curve. So he’d taken the easy way out by listening to his dad. It’s a trap, Jess. That’s all it is. She’s setting a trap for you. So, don’t be stupid, son. Kick her to the curb before it’s too late, before she ruins your life. Yeah, great advice from a drunk child abuser and overall mean slimeball of a man who’d masqueraded as the town doctor. The hell of it was, he’d listened. He’d accused, he kicked, then he’d run. What a jerk!

But that was only the first time. He’d pretty much done the same thing with Donna, hadn’t he? Maybe not kicking her to the curb so much as edging her there. Being gentle, trying not to hurt her in the process. But it was all the same and, in the end, he’d hurt her anyway.

Now, tonight, an entire lifetime of miserable failures was poking him from every side, and he just wasn’t in the mood to be poked alone. So, turning off the main road, Jess headed back to Lilly Lake. Brassard’s Pub was as good place as any to be in a bad mood. He didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t care to play darts. But he craved the noise. Wanted it all around him. Wanted it to permeate every pore in his body, reminding him that he was still alive since he wasn’t even so sure about that. So, yes, Brassard’s was the place. Loud jukebox, louder bartender, and on a good night, a crowd that could be heard halfway over to the next county. Yes, it was exactly where he wanted to be.

“Jess!” the bartender yelled across the noisy room. The owner-bartender, Will Brassard, was also head of the Lilly Lake Volunteer Fire Department. “I heard you inhaled.”

Jess thought about waving him off in favor of an isolated corner, but Will was a nice guy, married to a nice woman, father of some nice kids. Living the life Jess had thought he’d have by now. “Twice,” he shouted back. “I inhaled twice.”

“So what did they give you for it?” Will shouted. “A commendation?”

If only … “Two weeks vacation.” Rather than shouting the story, which he knew he was about to tell, he shoved his way through the crowd, half of them dancing to the music, and made his way to the bar stool on the end, the one where he didn’t have to sit and face himself in the mirror behind the bar. “Two long, restful weeks up at the cabin, looking at the walls, pacing the floor and taking up knitting because … let’s just say that I didn’t follow orders as well I should have. Funny how that works out, isn’t it?”

Laughing, Will held out his hand in greeting. “Well, my wife knits, and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, because if you don’t follow the knitting rules, you end up getting … well, to me it looks like a big ball of knots. So, if you’re looking for some activity …” He pointed to the far end of the room, where several of the locals were engaged in what seemed to be a rather bland card game … one eye on the cards, one eye on the old, large-screen, rear-projector TV where reruns of a college basketball game were wobbling across the screen in hues of green and orange.

“Not my thing, but thanks for the offer. Likewise, don’t do darts.”

Will started to point to the beer tap, but stopped. “That’s right. You don’t drink either, do you?”

“Because I’m boring as hell. I work and I sleep. And when I get back to Lilly Lake, I don’t even do that much.”

“So, why are you here tonight? You’ve been coming back home off and on for a year now, and I don’t think you’ve ever been in here. In fact, other than passing you on the road a time or two, this is the first time I’ve seen you, period.”

He genuinely liked Will. They’d known each other in school. Not too well, but well enough to know that the boy Will Brassard had turned into a good man. “It seemed like a good place to stop, and since I was in a stopping mood …”

“Coffee?” Will offered. “Or a soft drink?”

“Coffee’s good.”

“And let me guess. You’d rather have it over there at the table in the corner, so you don’t have to put up with me talking to you, or asking questions.”

“Actually, that was my intent when I came in here. But I think I’ll stay at the bar, if you don’t mind a non-drinker taking up a perfectly good drinking spot.”

Will laughed. “Any firefighter is welcome at my bar, for any reason, any time. No matter what they’re not drinking. Stay as long as you like.”

It was a friendly invitation, and Jess appreciated it. But by the time he’d polished off his third cup of coffee, he was restless again. Even the noise and activity weren’t enough tonight. Problem was, he wasn’t sure what was. No point in staying here, though. Not when the night was young and someone paying for more than a cup of coffee might want his seat. So Jess dropped a generous tip in the tip jar, saluted his farewell to Will, and headed for the door. But before he got there, a shout above the crowd stopped him.

“We’ve got a run, Jess. Grease fire in the kitchen, out at the lodge. Care to join us?”

Jess’s heart lurched. Did he care to join them? Hell, yes, he cared. In fact, the adrenalin was already pumping.

“May have a couple of minor casualties we have to run into the emergency room,” Will responded. “How about you being our medic on this run?”

Hadn’t Julie said she was working Emergency tonight? Suddenly, he wanted to see her again. He wasn’t sure why, and didn’t have time to think about it as Will tossed his bartender apron to one of the waitresses and leaped over the bar. So maybe this wasn’t going to be a bad vacation, after all. At least, not this part of it.

CHAPTER THREE

“IS EVERYBODY out?” Will Brassard shouted across the ruckus of firefighters struggling to get through the line of bystanders watching the flames shooting out the kitchen roof. Set against the backdrop of the black night, the orange glow was an astounding work of art, mesmerizing its watchers, stalling them in place, causing congestion in the area. Also, the hundred or so patrons evacuated from the restaurant, combined with the two hundred guests at the lodge hotel and various guest cabins who were leaving by a sundry of exits, were causing quite a commotion, some in shock, some confused, some simply looking for a safe place to go. Consequently, by the time the Lilly Lake volunteer firefighters had arrived and readied their equipment to face down the fire, about a third of the population of Lilly Lake was either there, or on their way to watch the show.

“Not yet!” one of the volunteers practically screamed at the top of her lungs. “I think we’ve got three more people still in the kitchen, doing God only knows what. Manager of the lodge says they’re trying to account for everybody registered right now, and they’ll let us know in a minute if we’ve got to worry about that.”

“Like we have a minute,” Jess snorted. He was suited up and heading in through the cluster of people. Not thrilled, though, to be called to paramedic duty. Of course, Will probably thought he was a natural, maybe even assumed that’s what he did in the city. But it wasn’t. He shunned medicine now. Yet here he was, carting medical equipment through a crush of gawkers, getting ready to do something he didn’t want to do. Except there was no way he could turn his back on these people. No way to tell Will he wouldn’t do it. It wasn’t in him. Wasn’t like him to turn his back. Probably one of the few good character traits in him, thanks to Aunt Grace. “So, where are the injuries? And do we know what we have so far?”

“We’ve got them in a couple of places. The less serious injuries are out back in the caretaker’s cottage,” Will shouted. “We have a couple of more serious ones going to the third guest cabin down from the pool. Decided to put them there because transport out will be easier, and we’re clearing the parking lot and road in right now for the ambulances. Got five coming in, by the way. The one from here has an ETA of less than five minutes, and the other four coming in from Jasper and Hutchings are still twenty to thirty minutes out. And, Jess … one of my men just radioed, and we’ve got what looks to be a bad injury on the way down. Burns, maybe something else cardiac. They couldn’t tell, but he’s going in and out of consciousness.”

“Okay.” Jess took a harder grip on the medical kit Will had thrust at him once he’d climbed out of Will’s SUV. Serious injuries, one ambulance in town and the possibility of a long response time. “What about a helicopter, if we need it?”

“We can get one, but time out on that’s going to be forty-five minutes, if we’re lucky.” Will was running hard to keep pace with Jess. “Give me the word, and I’ll get it ordered.”

“So that’s all we’ve got in the way of transportation?” It wasn’t good enough and, frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t known the status. But what did he know about anything concerning the medical or emergency needs in Lilly Lake?

“Well, we can get them into the hospital here pretty fast, but until the expansion on the emergency department begins, they’re limited in what they can do.”

Which frustrated the hell out of Jess. He wanted, no, he’d always demanded immediate response and the best facilities, yet he owned a hospital that wasn’t yet ready to offer what he would demand … if he still practiced as a doctor. He needed to talk to Rafe about it, see what they could do to fix it, in a hurry. Back away from his plans to not get involved and get involved in this one thing. “But the hospital’s ready to receive, what? The less serious injuries?”

“It’s ready to receive whatever we send them. They’re a good bunch there, and they’ll do whatever they can to get those we can’t keep out to facilities that can handle them. So, don’t worry about that end of it. It’ll work.” The voice answering wasn’t that of Will, though. It was Julie, and she was following on Jess’s heels, running just as hard toward the guest cabin as he was.

“What are you doing here?” he shouted at her.

“Came to help. Like I said, I’ve got everything well covered at the hospital, got staff that came back in the minute they heard about the fire, so Rick … Dr. Navarro … asked me to come out to the field and coordinate efforts here. They do that in Lilly Lake, send hospital personnel out when there’s a need.”

A klatsch of women too busy watching to notice the rescue operation in progress swarmed over the path leading to the guest cottages, essentially swallowing up the passageway. Jess swerved to avoid them, but Julie pushed her way right through. “Look, ladies, you’re going to have to move back,” she said, stopping for a moment. “All the way to the other side of the building.”

“Anything we can do?” one of the women asked.

“As a matter of fact …” Julie motioned them closer to her. “We’ve got a lot of personnel coming through here now, with more on the way. Maybe you ladies could keep the area clear for me, make sure people stay back, sort of take control of the pedestrian traffic flow.”

Jess smiled, hearing the words. She was, essentially, turning part of the problem into the solution. Smart gal. Natural leader. He admired that.

“I didn’t know you were so resourceful,” he said, once she caught back up to him.

“I was living on the street when Grace took me in. You get to be very resourceful when you don’t have a roof over your head or a meal in your belly.”

Apparently, there were a lot of things about Julie he didn’t know. “I guess I never knew that either.” What, exactly, had he known about her back then, other than she’d attracted him like crazy? He thought about it for a moment, and came up with nothing.

“Nobody knew. I didn’t want anybody’s pity, and Grace was respectful that way, not telling anyone.”

That, she had been. And he missed her more and more each day. “She was,” he agreed, still fixed on the image of Julie being homeless. He’d been young, but how could he have not known?

Arriving at the guest cabin where the more serious of injuries were being brought, Jess was first in the door. Greeted by several volunteers, townspeople who all stepped away when he strode in, he looked first at the log rail bed in the corner of the room where a middle-aged man was being attended by a woman still clad in her black-and-white checkered chef pants and a white jacket. She was putting cold compresses on his head, and a second appraisal showed he was the only patient in there, so far. Meaning the bad one was still en route.

“Okay, I’m Jess Corbett,” he said above the murmur of the bystanders. “Doctor … er, firefighter. So, what do we have here?”

“Chest pains,” the woman said. “Shortness of breath. And he’s looking a little … pale. His name is Frank Thomas, he’s our head chef.”

Jess was immediately at the bedside, taking the man’s pulse. Rapid, thready. He was diaphoretic … sweating. Shortness of breath becoming pronounced.

“What do you need?” Julie asked, peering over Jess’s shoulder.

“Get his blood pressure, get him on oxygen, then get an IV, normal saline, ready.” He looked at Frank. “Frank,” he said, assessing the man’s responsiveness. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Cats,” Frank managed to whisper.

Jess laughed. “Well, then, I won’t be treating you with any cats today. Any medicine allergies, or reactions you can recall?”

Frank shook his head.

“Good. I want you to take an aspirin for me.” He looked around, saw Julie strapping the blood-pressure cuff to Frank’s arm. “Anybody here got an aspirin?”

With that, three different people produced a variety of types, and Jess chose the low dose, then popped it into the man’s mouth. “Chew it up, Frank, and swallow it.”

The man did, with great difficulty. “Am I going to be okay, Doc?” he forced out.

Doc. It had been a long time since anybody had called him that. Strange how it sounded. Kind of nice, though. “We’re doing our best, Frank. Right now, we’re going to get you stabilized, then send you to the hospital, where they’ll be able to run tests to see exactly what’s going on.” “My wife,” Frank gasped.

“I called her,” Julie said, stepping up with an oxygen mask. “She’s going to meet you in the emergency room.” With that, Julie placed the mask on his face, then whispered to Jess, “It’s low, ninety over sixty.” After which she immediately set about the task of finding a vein in Frank’s arm and inserting an IV catheter. “You’re going to feel a little stick,” she said, as the needle slid in as smooth as melted butter. She glanced over at Frank, saw that he didn’t respond, not even a tiny flinch to being stuck, and she nudged Jess, who was busy hooking EKG leads to Frank’s chest. “I think Frank, here, is on the verge of taking a little nap.”

“Frank!” Jess shouted, giving him a little shake. “Wake up, can you hear me?”

Franks’s eyes fluttered open.

“Do you have any history of heart disease?”

“No,” he sputtered. “Healthy …”

“Ever had chest pains that you can remember?”

This time Frank didn’t respond. Rather, he stared up at the ceiling.

“Come on, Frank,” Julie said, slapping him on the wrist, trying to stimulate him back into paying attention. “Stay with us, okay? We need you to try hard and answer the questions Dr. Corbett is asking you. It’s important.”

Frank nodded, but didn’t look away from the ceiling, and it appeared he was having difficulty even doing that. Jess gave a nod to Julie who, without asking, knew to get the defibrillator ready, just in case. She was impressive, taking his nonverbal cues, setting out drugs that might have to be administered, getting the endotracheal tube and laryngoscope ready. It’s what she did in the normal course of her day, and what Jess used to do, too. But somehow, seeing Julie work the way she did knotted his gut. She was so … good. So confident. She’d gone so far beyond anything she’d ever thought she could be back in the days when she’d wanted him. Good for her, he thought. She did better than anything I could have ever been for her.

“Frank, you’re having a cardiac episode … heart attack,” Jess explained. “Are you on any kind of medication, for any condition?”

The man shook his head, a wobbly, feeble attempt at it, but the effort was more than he was able to endure, and his eyes dropped shut. “Damn,” Jess snapped, immediately scrambling into assessment mode, trying to locate a pulse. Which he did, thankfully. “Weak,” he said. “Respirations getting more shallow, quite a bit more labored, too.” Meaning Frank was winding down. “Julie, could you check his blood pressure again? I have an idea it’s dropped.”

She did, then tried a second time. “Not hearing it,” she said, pumping up the blood-pressure cuff a third time, on this attempt feeling the pressure with her fingertips. “Palp at fifty,” she finally said.

“So when can we get him transported?” The three or four minutes they’d been working on the man seemed like an eternity, and the thing was, in the field there was little or nothing they could do for him unless, God forbid, he crashed. Which was getting perilously close to being the case. But in even the most scantily equipped hospital, which he hoped his hospital was not, there was a world of options and miracles that would save Frank’s life, once they got him through the door.

“Someone, check on transport,” Julie shouted to the three or four people in the cabin who seemed to have no function other than wait. “Go find Will Brassard, the fire chief, and tell him we’ve got a patient we’ve got to get out of here right now!”

“Big voice,” Jess commented, plowing through the kit containing the cardiac meds. He wanted something to kickstart the heart in case it decided to stop, and he found it in the form of a tiny vial of epinephrine. “Don’t remember that on you before.”

“That’s because it’s an acquired talent. I had to work on it. Bad patients in the back of my ambulance need a big voice sometimes. Patients like you were.”

He chuckled. “So you took shouting lessons?”

“Something like that. Part of some assertiveness training Grace had me take.”

“Money well spent,” he said. “You’re about as assertive as anybody I’ve ever known.”

“In a good way?” she asked, taking the vial from Jess and drawing the liquid into a syringe, getting ready to act.

“In a good way.” A very good way.

“They’re ready to take him,” one of the volunteers called from the door. “And they said to tell you they’re bringing in a critical from the kitchen right now.”

It was almost an amazing switch. As one Frank Thomas was carried out the door to the nearest ambulance, one Randolph O’Neal was rushed in and deposited in the very same bed Frank had just vacated. Only, right off the bat, both Jess and Julie saw the grim prognosis for the restaurant’s sous chef. He was burned extensively on his legs, shoulders and chest, a combination of second- and third-degree burns. His breathing was raspy, gurgly. He wasn’t conscious. He also had a gaping, bleeding head wound. “I need saline,” Jess shouted, then looked at Julie. For a moment they exchanged knowing glances … glances that spoke volumes in the span of a fractured second.

“I’ll get a helicopter in,” Julie said.

Jess, already in assessment mode looking for pupillary reaction in the man, simply nodded, already seeing the bleak reality. Unfortunately, the bleakness was only confirmed when Jess pried open O’Neal’s eyelids, flashed his penlight, saw fixed, dilated pupils. No reaction to light. “Nothing,” he said, cursing under his breath and at the same time, strapping a blood-pressure cuff on Randolph’s arm.

Julie didn’t even bother asking what it was because, judging from the grim expression on Jess’s face, it wasn’t good.

“Oxygen, IV, saline for the burns …” he said, on a frustrated sigh. “You know the drill.”

Julie immediately turned to the group of bystanders, all but one of whom had gone out the door when Randolph O’Neal had come in. “You got any kind of medic training?” she asked the boy, who appeared to be a busser at the restaurant.

“No, ma’am. Except I can do that squeeze thing if somebody’s choking.”

“Can you pour liquid over this man’s burns?”

“Yes, ma’am. I can do that.”

And just like that, Julie had recruited a volunteer who stepped forward to assume an important part of their patient’s treatment.

“Got a broken leg,” someone shouted from the door.

That someone turned out to be Rafe, who was leading the way for two firefighters carrying yet another patient on a stretcher.

“It’s about time you showed up,” Jess quipped.

“Well, I’ll be damned. You’re the medic in charge?” Rafe asked.

“I’m the medic in charge, which means you take the broken leg because …” He looked back at his patient. Didn’t finish his sentence as Randolph O’Neal’s breathing had just gone agonal … into near-death mode. Rafe must have seen the same thing, as he tried stepping between his brother and O’Neal.

“Look, you don’t need this right now, okay? You take the guy we just brought in and I’ll deal with this.”

“Because I can’t?” Jess snapped.

“Because you shouldn’t.” Rafe stepped up, took Jess by the arm, tried to move him. “Jess, his pupils are blown,” Rafe whispered. “He’s not going to make it. Not to a hospital, not anywhere.”

“I don’t give up on my patients, Rafe,” Jess growled, bending down over the man.

“Jess,” Julie said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Rafe is right. We can’t … There’s nothing …”

A hush fell over the cabin as the inevitability became apparent to everybody there, and within seconds the cabin cleared of everybody but Jess, Julie, Rafe, the two patients and James Orser, the young man who was still, dutifully, dousing Randolph O’Neal’s chest with saline, even as O’Neal exhaled his final breath.

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