street reporter, Kasey West, was able to talk with some of his coworkers and the doctors treating him at St Joseph’s Medical Center.”
Samantha watched man after man become choked up as they tried to talk about their colleague and friend. She knew he had to be a really great guy to inspire that kind of raw emotion in those big, strapping firemen. They all had positive things to say about him. Phrases like all-around good guy, brave beyond compare, loads of fun, and involved citizen, were expressed more than a few times. She was glad the reporter had enough decency not to bother the family members.
Turning off the television, she went to sleep with Joel Hightower firmly on her mind. His smiling face and laughter filled her dreams.
The next morning, she picked up her paper only to find him on the front page. He was wearing his formal fireman uniform. Judging by the glowing story written about him, he appeared to be the picture of bravery. She had to make herself put the newspaper down and finish her coffee so she could make it to work on time.
What is the deal with me? I can’t believe I’m thinking about him this much….
She had to stop in the hospital on a consult for another patient, and she went by the firefighter’s room just to make sure he was doing all right. While she certainly couldn’t take anything away from him or men like him, she felt bad for the women they left behind. Women like her mother. Women like the injured fireman’s poor mother who sat there crying her eyes out and begging God to make her son well, to let her son live and be able to walk again.
Samantha had seen enough of that growing up, and she couldn’t see herself being with a man in a dangerous job and ending up in the same predicament. Once was enough.
She was about to walk back out of the room when the older woman looked up. The medium-built woman was dressed in a stylish eggplant colored pantsuit with a string of pearls and matching earrings. Her salt-and-pepper hair was up in a bun and her smooth brown complexion was flawless. Minus the gray hair, she hardly seemed old enough to have an adult child.
“Are you another one of the doctors?” The woman wiped the tears from her eyes but more replaced them.
“No, ma’am. I’m a physical therapist. I saw his story on the news and just wanted to stop by and share some positive energy and thoughts.” Samantha smiled and started to leave the room again. She felt awkward being there, since she didn’t even know the man.
“He has to pull through. I can’t lose my child.” His mother buried her head in her arms and started sobbing.
Samantha walked over to the woman and placed her arms around her.
“He’ll make it.” As she said the words of comfort, she realized how true she wanted them to be. It would be a shame for this woman to lose her son, for the world to lose such a brave man.
“Out of all my boys, he was always the prankster, guaranteed to go out of his way to bring a smile to my face.” She lifted her head, and it seemed as if she was trying to smile as she remembered her son’s antics; but the smile was shaky at best.
“If he weren’t the one laid up there like that, he’d be in here with me now saying or doing something to try and stop me from crying.”
So, I was right about him.
Samantha prided herself on being a good judge of people, and it pleased her to know that she had read Joel Hightower’s kind, handsome face correctly. He was a joker. He would probably make her laugh all the time.
She shook her head.
Where in the hell did that thought come from?
Samantha gazed at the sleeping man, but looking at his striking brown face, which seemed somewhere between restful and tense, she could tell the first operation must have been excruciating. She had overheard the doctors saying they needed to do at least one more operation on his spine.
“He’ll be fine, and he’ll make you laugh again, Mrs. Hightower.” Samantha offered the only words of encouragement she could. She knew the man had a long road to travel toward recovery, but looking at him, she also knew he’d make it.
She prayed he would.
She and Mrs. Hightower sat in silence. The only sound heard was Joel’s mother’s soft sobs. The only thing Samantha could think was she never wanted to be the woman crying because she’d been foolish enough to fall for a man who had a dangerous job.
She would never make that mistake.
“So what exactly are you saying to me, Doc? Make it plain.”
Joel listened to everything the man was saying, and he didn’t like any of it. After two painful surgeries and spending more time than he could have ever wanted laid up in a hospital bed in traction, he had very little patience for medical jargon and even less patience for hypothetical ponderings.
He wanted to know one thing and one thing only: Would he be able to fight fires again?
The distinguished surgeon, Dr. Lardner, gave an uncharacteristically sheepish grin that seemed to acknowledge he’d been guilty of not being as clear or as forthcoming as he could have been. His thin lips pursed in consideration, and his thick blond eyebrows closed in at the middle of his forehead. He ran his hand through perfectly coiffed blond hair, then stared at Joel with steel-blue eyes.
“Your surgeries were very successful, and the extent of the damage to your spine was not as extensive as we had originally thought. We honestly didn’t think you would walk again. We thought you would have been at the very least partially paralyzed—at the worst, fully paralyzed—but you’re not.” Dr. Lardner stopped and gave Joel a pointed look before continuing.
“You will be able to walk once your legs and spine heal, but you will need intense physical therapy to strengthen the spine and to help get you to the point where you are walking with the same proficiency you were before the accident. Is that plain enough for you?”
Joel bit back the sarcastic quip he was thinking as the doctor threw his own words back at him. He wasn’t used to feeling so on edge and vulnerable. However, not being able to get around and move the way he wanted to was taking its toll, and the thought that he might not be able to do the one thing he had wanted to do ever since he was a little boy—fight fires—had him feeling more like a tiger in a cage than a guy in traction.
“Yeah, I get it, Doc. I’m lucky I’ll be able to walk again, but will I be able to fight fires again?” Joel gritted his teeth to hold back the rest of what he wanted to say. No need pissing off the skillful surgeon whose hands made walking again a reality.
“That I can’t tell you, Joel.” Dr. Lardner gave a slight shrug. “Once you’re out of here and have started and completed your physical therapy, we’ll have a better sense of that. But for now, let’s dwell on getting you healed up so that you can go out there and handle the rest. Okay?”
Joel nodded. He would go back to his profession because any alternative to that was not an option. Fighting fires were not only his legacy, but also his entire reason for being.
Going one-on-one, head-to-head against one of nature’s most destructive elements was the biggest rush he’d ever felt. He fought fires because he loved helping people. He fought fires because he was a part of an elite group of men who lived to do what no one else would: run into the blaze not away from
