With Courage And Commitment

Danny made for the stairs but the sound of jingling bracelets brought him up short. He winced, a premonition of doom settling over him.

“Danny, there’s something I want you to take a look at.”

Turning, he eyed Emma Jean Witkowsky, the station’s dispatcher and resident gypsy fortune-teller, with suspicion. As usual she was all decked out with dangling earrings and an armful of silver bracelets. Her long skirt swayed at her calves and she clanked with every step she took.

“I gotta get changed before the shift starts,” he said.

“This will only take a minute. There’s something strange going on with my crystal ball. I thought maybe you could make sense of it.”

“I’m not really into crystal balls. Or fortune-telling.” Particularly Emma Jean’s version, which was invariably wrong.

She ignored his objection, shoving open the door to Dispatch and stepping inside.

With a shrug, Danny followed her. How long could it take to look into a stupid crystal ball and duck back out again?

“I just bought this new ball via the Internet and I think there’s something wrong with it,” she said, slipping behind the counter that separated visitors from an array of computer terminals and phones. She placed a globe on the counter and slowly removed the blue silk hankie that covered it. “Tell me what you think.”

Disinterested, he glanced at the glass ball…and nearly choked.

Looking back at him was the image of a grinning hamster with big red lips and long eyelashes. Beside it a typed note read, “Your love life is on the upswing.”

Danny was torn between laughter and an urge to throttle Emma Jean. “Thank God you haven’t gotten a prediction right in the past five years.”

Affronted, she widened her eyes. “I foretold Logan Strong and Janice getting together, didn’t I? And Mike Gables and—”

“Enough!” He backed toward the door. “Leave me out of your fortune-telling. And for God’s sake, could everybody please forget about that hamster? Next time, I’ll let the damn thing suffocate.”

He wouldn’t, of course. Not when somebody like Stephanie made him want to revive a stupid rodent or die trying—all to impress a beautiful woman.

BY AFTERNOON, DANNY was bored out of his gourd.

Engine 62’s only action so far had been to tag along on a paramedic call to old Mrs. Trumblebird, who managed to have palpitations or a wastebasket fire every week or so. Today she’d been short of breath. Mostly Danny thought she was lonely but the ambulance hauled Abigail off to the hospital anyway. She’d be pampered for a couple of days and maybe her family would visit her.

Heck of a way to spend your golden years.

After logging an hour on the stationary bike, then showering, he wandered out in back of the station. Tommy Tonka was sitting in the driver’s seat of Big Red, a vintage 1930s fire engine the adolescent had helped the department restore. Today he looked glum.

“What’s up, kid?”

He lifted his bony shoulders. “Nuthin’.”

Danny swung up into the seat beside him. “Funny, from the look of things, I would have guessed your best friend died.”

Head bent, shoulders slumped, the sixteen-year-old slid his hands around the steering wheel. When it came to anything mechanical, Tommy was a near genius. Personality wise, he was definitely on the slow side.

“I got dumped,” he said.

“By that pretty redhead you brought to the Founder’s Day Parade last fall?” The two of them had ridden down Paseo Boulevard in Big Red with the Station 6 crew and their wives, Tommy looking so proud of himself Danny thought the kid might burst with it.

“Yeah. Rachel. She’s dating a jock now. Varsity basketball.”

“That’s rough.” Leaning back, Danny propped one foot on the dashboard. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

“What can I do? Heck, he’s a big school hero, scores twenty points a game.” Mimicking Danny’s position, Tommy scooted lower in the seat and propped his size twelve tennis shoe against the dashboard. The laces were untied and the sole looked like it was about to come off.

“I’d bet you have a lot more between the ears than this other guy has. You can figure out a way to get her back—if you want to.”

His face flushing, which emphasized a bad case of acne, Tommy slid his gaze across to Danny. “You know how to turn me into a jock before the spring dance?”

“Uh, that’s kind of a hard one.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.” Dejection drove his shoulders lower.

“But hey, you can’t just give up if that’s what it will take to get Rachel back. Nothing is impossible if you want it bad enough.”

Tommy didn’t look convinced.

Mentally trying to pluck a rabbit out of the hat, Danny said, “You could go out for the triathlon.”

The boy’s head snapped up. “You want me to do what?”

“You can swim, can’t you? And ride a bike? And I know you can run.” In each case, Danny gave a dispirited nod. “Then all you have to do is put them together. There’s a junior division in the upcoming firefighters triathlon. You could train with me.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never been out for any kind of sport, not even Little League. My mom never had the money for fees or uniforms, stuff like that.”

“It’s okay. We’ve got weight-training equipment in the basement. We’ll get you some decent shoes, and I’ve got an extra bike you can use. At the very least, it will keep your mind off your troubles. What have you got to lose?”

The faintest spark of hope appeared in the kid’s eyes. “You think I could—”

“Damn right you could.” He grinned at the boy and got a tentative smile in return. “And if I know anything about women—which I do—Rachel’s gonna fall all over herself trying to get back together with you. Brains and brawn are a tough combination to beat.”

“Then, could I maybe start now?”

Suddenly the boy looked so eager, Danny almost laughed. Instead he clamped his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and gave a little squeeze. “Now sounds like a perfect time.”

Danny wasn’t entirely sure what he’d gotten himself into. But he did know what it was like to be raised by a single mom. There was never enough money to go around. Pinching pennies was a way of life. And it hurt like hell not having a dad like the other kids.

For Danny, Harlan Gray had filled some of that void.

He couldn’t help but wonder who would be the man Stephanie’s baby would turn to.

Silently cursing the guy who had gotten Stephanie pregnant, then dumped her, Danny jumped down from the fire truck. With an effort, he battled back old memories of anger and helplessness, and a fury that made him want to punch out that stranger’s lights.

“Come on, Tommy, my man. Let’s see a little hustle, a little en…thuu…siasm!”

He jogged off ahead of the boy, into the station and down the stairs to the basement. He’d pedal another hour on the bike to bleed off his anger while Tommy worked out. Maybe, if he was lucky, he’d be able to sleep tonight without worrying about Stephanie and her baby.

SHE HAD TO STOP PEERING out the kitchen window trying to catch a glimpse of Danny.