Her hand flew to her chest again, flattening up against the big, cream-colored fisherman’s knit sweaters she wore. The thick weave made her seem even smaller, made the flush in her cheeks stand out all the more. “I don’t think my pulse has come back down to normal yet.”
Chad felt a grin take over his face before he could stop it. “In that case, maybe you shouldn’t drink George’s coffee.”
Chapter Five
Chad made sure he was in the firehouse when Nick came over to walk Plug the next day. He also made sure Plug stayed in his office so he’d have a chance to see how the boy fared. No amount of remorse would shake responsibility for what he saw in Nick’s blue eyes: the inner storm beneath his pose of teenage apathy. Yesterday obviously hadn’t been the best of days for Nick. He was very glad to be here, but trying hard not to show it.
“So the fire drill was no big deal?” Chad made a careful effort to sound casual as he handed Plug’s leash to Nick. He double-checked the file he was “reading,” making sure he wasn’t holding it upside down. He suspected Nick would linger in his office, and the boy had. Nick spent a few minutes playing with Plug, tussling with the hound in fidgety unease. Chad caught as many surreptitious glimpses as he could over the top of his file.
“It was a…bit…weird,” Nick finally offered after a pause that was so long Chad had forgotten he’d asked a question. The boy busied himself with the leash. His hands stilled just a bit before he added, “Loud.”
Chad pretended to need another folder from his filing cabinet, which meant he had to walk close to Nick. “That siren sure is loud, especially in here. If you’re in my office when the siren goes off, it’ll rattle your teeth.” He snatched a glance at Nick and then shifted his gaze out the windows to Tyler Street. “Hey, I wonder if it rattles the windows in your mom’s shop? Do you know?”
Nick forced out a bit of a laugh. “She jumps every morning at ten when you guys test the sirens. I don’t know about the windows, but it rattles Mom, which is dumb because you do it every day. She knows it’s coming.”
So the boy sensed his mom’s fear of the fire station. That made him doubly unlikely to tell his mother anything about yesterday, and Chad knew from the principal that yesterday hadn’t gone well. Any other fire drill, and it would have been purely an internal school matter—no sirens, no fire trucks. Any other kid, and Chad might have waved it off as just a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Chad wasn’t one to poke his head into these kinds of things, but there was just something compelling about Nick Nelworth. For whatever reason, Chad wanted to help Nick if he could. Provided things didn’t get messy or complicated.
Chad pretended to hold a receipt up to the light coming through the window. “She tell you Plug dragged her over here yesterday? In the middle of your fire drill?” He kept his voice as casual as if he were asking the weather.
He watched Nick’s reflection through the window glass. He was surprised, which meant Jeannie hadn’t told him of her escapade here. He wondered what that meant as he watched Nick think it over, too.
“You came looking for me, did’ya, boy?” Nick ruffled Plug’s floppy ears, but made no comment about his mother. “I was in school and besides, I can’t come by every day. At least not yet, anyway.”
Chad turned around to face Nick. Plug was a big dog, and Nick was small for an eighth-grader, but he seemed especially small as he sat there on the floor of the office. Chad parked himself on the window ledge for a moment, letting himself enjoy their playful interaction. Plug’s constant slobber didn’t phase a thirteen-year-old in the slightest, and the dog came to life around Nick in a way Chad hadn’t seen before. George was wise to put them together. “The whole thing was pretty funny, actually. Plug snuck out, near as I can tell. He carried his leash over to the shop and everything.”
Nick pushed his forehead up against Plug’s droopy eyebrows. “Did you do that, Plug? Did’ya?” Plug responded with a generous wet lick up Nick’s cheek that sent the boy into giggles.
Chad ventured further. “You ought to be proud of your mom. It scared her to death to come over here with the sirens wailing but she made sure Plug got back home safe.” That wasn’t exactly how it happened, but close enough.
“She even freaks out whenever the sirens go off at home…at our apartment.” Nick corrected himself with obvious distaste. “And we’re four whole blocks away up the hill. She won’t come over here. Well, she wouldn’t come over here before.” He caught Chad’s eye. “Betcha she’ll still say she sends me ’cause she’s too busy, but it probably still creeps her out.”
Chad had to tread very carefully here. He slid his weight off the windowsill and hunched down to Nick’s level under the guise of finding a twig on the floor. “Probably still does. Sirens and fire engines do that to lots of people.” He waited to see if that elicited some kind of response from the boy. When it didn’t, he added, “I had a big fire happen to me…and a friend of mine…years ago and I still jump a bit when that thing goes off.”
Chad never admitted that to anyone but George, and it felt risky to say it aloud even in his office. Still, it seemed like the best way to give Nick permission to admit that the sirens made him nervous, too. The boy said nothing, fiddling with the ID tags on Plug’s collar as if he hadn’t heard Chad’s remark.
Chad let it sit for a moment, twirling the twig he’d picked up from the floor. Nick’s guidance counselor, Mrs. Corning, had happened to be in the field near Nick during the fire drill—one of those things Laurie would have called a “God-incidence.” While Mrs. Corning’s initial report was good enough to keep Jeannie from barreling over to the school, a later call from her gave Chad reason to worry. Nick had held it together, but just barely. He’d been visibly shaken during the drill, argumentative in his next class and then quiet and sullen the rest of the afternoon in school.
“Plug howls at sirens,” Chad tried again, just to see if the boy was listening. “Can you believe that?”
Now that they’d reached a safer topic, Nick looked straight at him. His eyes were as striking as his mother’s, even though they were blue to Jeannie’s brown. “He does? He howls?”
“Like a wolf. I suppose he thinks he’s helping, but it’s really pretty awful sounding. Stick around long enough, and you’ll get a front-row seat to that show, although you may be sorry you did.”
Chad hoped he’d opened up another window in the conversation, but got no response. There was little reason to be surprised. Hadn’t he done the same thing himself? Whenever the topic of Laurie and the fire—or loved ones lost in fires, or loved ones lost at all—came up in conversation, Chad always shut down. It was just easier not to go there at all than to try and keep up some kind of “all better now” facade.
“Your mom still planning on opening up for the holidays?” That wasn’t a safe topic of conversation, either. He’d lectured Jeannie about the size of the restoration she’d bitten off. The building she chose had been vacant for almost a dozen years. Most of the firefighters encouraged her, convinced Jeannie’s shop would be an easy source of goodies once she opened, but Chad had reservations.
“Yep,” Nick replied. “She says we’ll have our own Christmas tree in our own place above the shop. I can’t wait.”
Chad stifled a sigh. Half the interior walls needed to be rebuilt, and if she did as much internet business as she said, she’d need a lot of rewiring. Given all that, Chad would put the
