Chapter 67

 

Johnny didn’t suggest we do any packing on Sunday, and I didn’t volunteer for that duty.  The muscles in my arms and lower back were so tight and knotted that it felt like someone had twisted a rubber band around them, and kept twisting just for the fun of it.  Every time I tried to do even the simplest tasks, like make the bed or bend over to tie my shoes, I had to stifle a groan.  It had been years since I’d been on a water rescue.  I’d forgotten how physically exhausting that kind of call was.  Even more so when you’re well past the age when a man should be diving into a frigid ocean and lifting water logged children above his head, although I had to acknowledge that aching arms and a sore back were a small price to pay for the lives saved.  Johnny’d called Bartlett Hospital and Eagle Harbor’s medical center on Saturday evening to find out about the victims who’d been transported.  A full recovery was predicted for everyone, and just three of our patients were being kept overnight in Juneau for observation. 

 

Johnny’s phone rang throughout much of Saturday evening and into Sunday.  He didn’t answer it, nor would he let Trevor or me answer it.  The machine recorded call after call from grateful people wanting to thank him for all he’d done at the scene. 

 

When Trevor asked, “How come you don’t wanna talk to ‘em, Pops?” when the twentieth call interrupted our supper on Saturday evening, Johnny shrugged.

 

“They never call--called before when I was just doing my job.  They shouldn’t call now.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Never mine-mind. It’s not ‘portant.  Eat your supper while it’s still warm.”

 

“But you’re a hero.”

 

“No I’m not. That’s ‘zact--exactly my point.”

 

Trevor’s brow furrowed, but when Johnny wouldn’t elaborate, Trev did as Johnny had told him to and finished eating.

 

I didn’t sleep very well on Saturday night.  Even after taking two Tylenol about an hour before going to bed, I couldn’t get comfortable; my aching muscles making it difficult to shift position.  Johnny must have had the same problem, because he looked as tired as I felt on Sunday morning.  Clarice stopped by to pick up Trevor on her way to church. While she waited for Trevor to get his coat and shoes on she said to Johnny, “You should hear the talk around town.”

 

Johnny looked up from where he was filling the dishwasher with our dirty breakfast plates.  “About what?”

 

“About what? You know perfectly well about what.  About what you did yesterday.”

 

“I was just help out--helping out.”

 

“You did more than help out, John.  If it hadn’t been for you--”

 

“Nothing, Clarice.  If it hadn’t been for me, nothing.”

 

“Oh come on now.  Don’t downplay it.”

 

“See, Pops, I told you.  You are a hero.”  Trevor looked at Clarice. “I tried to tell him that.  Do you think we’ll get to stay here, Clarice?  Will they give him his job--”

            “No,” Johnny said.

 

“What do you mean no?”

 

“That won’t happen, son.  And even if does-if it does, I don’t know if I’d assep--accept it.”

 

“But, Papa--”

 

The look on Johnny’s face indicated to Clarice it was time for this subject to end.  She put her plump hands on Trevor’s shoulders and guided him toward the back door. 

 

“We need to go, love.”  To Johnny she said, “I’ll have him home around four or so.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

A pizza and movie party was being held in the church’s social hall for the teenagers that afternoon.  Clarice was a chaperone, and had told Johnny she’d bring Trevor home when the party ended.

 

“Have fun,” Johnny said to his son.  “Behave yourself.”

 

“I’ll be in church, Pops.  And Clarice’ll be there to watch me like a hawk.  I wouldn’t be stupid enough not to behave myself.”

 

Johnny smiled.  “Glad to hear it.”

 

“See ya’ later, Uncle Roy.”

 

“You bet, Junior. Have a good time.”

 

“I will.”

 

The teenager crossed the kitchen.  With a gesture that took Johnny by surprise, he threw his arms around his father, said, “Bye, Pops,” then added, “I don’t care what you say.  I still think you’re a hero.”

 

Trevor released Johnny before he could return the hug.  He ran out the door ahead of Clarice, leaving the woman shaking her head over his boundless energy as she followed, warning him to slow down so he wouldn’t slip on the sheen of ice that coated the sidewalk and driveway.

 

After they’d left I handed Johnny the remainder of the dishes stacked on the counter.

 

“That’s a pretty high compliment coming from a thirteen-year-old boy.”

 

“Yeah, well, you know how goes--it goes.  Today I’m a hero.  Tomorrow when I tell him to get off the phone and do home-his homework, I’ll be a jerk.”

 

I laughed while nodding.  “That about sums it up. I sure remember those days of parenthood.” 

 

“Do they ever end?”

 

“Sometimes too soon, and sometimes not soon enough.”

 

“That’s what I thought.”

 

Johnny started the dishwasher cycling, then asked me if I wanted another cup of coffee. I accepted his offer, watching as he poured me a steaming mug of the dark liquid, and a second glass of orange juice for himself.           

 

We sat down at the table, both of us reaching for a doughnut from the box Clarice had brought, even though we’d just finished eating breakfast a half hour earlier. 

 

            “He’s a good kid.”

 

            “What?”

 

            I took a sip of coffee, then repeated what I’d said.  “Trevor.  He’s a good kid.  He’ll make you proud someday.”

 

            “Already does.  When I don’t wanna knock common--some common sense into him, that is.”

 

            “Like father like son.”

 

            Johnny smiled at my teasing, but refused to acknowledge the truth to how much of the young John Gage was in Trevor.

 

            “Sometimes…” I started with an almost wistful tone to my voice.

 

            “Sometimes what?” he asked.

 

            I could feel Johnny’s eyes on me, but I didn’t immediately meet his gaze.  We’d talked about a lot of things during the past two months.  Probably more than we’d talked about since we’d ridden together in Squad 51.  I’d learned about his life during the years our friendship no longer existed, but I hadn’t told him much about mine.  Most of it he already knew – what colleges my kids had attended. What careers they’d pursued. Who they’d married, how many children they’d had, and Jennifer’s divorce from Dan.  The career Joanne forged for herself in banking after John entered high school.  My rise from captain to battalion chief, and then the change I’d made to chief paramedic instructor in 1996 that allowed me to enjoy a semi-retirement of sorts, while still reaping the benefits of a full time employee.

 

            But the one thing I hadn’t shared in any great detail with Johnny in the years since we’d renewed our friendship, was Brandon. The grandson I’d lost to cancer in 1998.  He’d been born in March of 1992, six weeks before Trevor’s birth in May of that year.  There were times when it was difficult for me to acknowledge that Johnny’s son and my grandson would be the same age had Brandon lived.  It was hard to think that the boy who’d known only six birthdays, would now be fourteen, and like Trev, on the brink of graduating from the eighth grade.

 

            “I…I pulled a kid out of the water yesterday.  A boy about five or six. Big blue eyes.  A mop of blond hair as light as Chris’s was when he was little.”

 

            Johnny nodded.  “Ellison’s boy.”

 

            “Really?”

 

            “Saw you with him. I had his daughter.”

 

            “Oh.”  I thought a moment. “I wonder if he knows.”

 

            “Doesn’t matter whether does--he does or not.  We were just--”

 

            “Doing our jobs,” I finished for him with a laugh.  “Not bad for an old guy who got canned last week, and another old guy who hasn’t been on active duty in ten years.”

 

            Now it was Johnny who laughed. “No.  Not bad at all.”

 

            When I didn’t say anything else, Johnny asked, “What about the boy?  Was

okay-he okay?”

 

            “Yeah. Other than being cold and scared, he was fine.  He just…”

 

            “Just what?”

 

            “He uh…he reminded me of Brandon, I guess.  He…he just made me think of Branny.”

 

            Johnny nodded his understanding.  Just like I’d done for him since arriving in Alaska, he waited patiently until I was ready to talk.

           

Chapter 68

 

Roy would never forget this day.  He wanted to.  God, if there was ever a day he wanted to erase from his memory it was this one.  April 16th, 1998.  The day they were burying Brandon. 

 

It seemed so absurd.  His little body shouldn’t be in that miniature white coffin resting on top of the ornamental catafalque over a dark hole in the ground.  He should be alive - playing with his sister, riding his bike, and asking Grandpa to take him fishing.

 

Roy gulped back tears.  He couldn’t give into his grief now.  Not now, and not ever.  His family needed him.  It was Roy’s waist that eight-year-old Libby had her face buried in, not her father’s.  It was Roy who Jennifer leaned against sobbing, not her husband. And on Roy’s other side, Joanne rested her head on his shoulder, her silent tears soaking the material of his uniform jacket.  He’d worn his fire department dress uniform because Brandon requested it of Roy just hours before he’d died.  That request had torn Roy up.  It was hard to believe a child could be so perceptive.  But Roy had learned a lot during their four-year journey through cancer with Brandon.  Amongst the things he’d realized is that children aren’t nearly as unaware of what’s happening to them as adults think. And just like adults who are gravely ill, children know when the end is near.  Even children as young as Brandon.  It was enough to break a grandfather’s heart.  That is, if it hadn’t already been broken by everything Brandon endured during his short life.

 

Roy thought back to when Brandon was two.  He cursed the day he was babysitting and noticed Brandon limping, and the way his right eyelid seemed to droop.  At first, he didn’t think too much of either thing.  There were a lot of reasons why an active two-year-old who attended preschool on the days his grandfather wasn’t available to watch him and his sister, might be limping and have what Roy thought was a cold in his eye.  He mentioned what he’d noticed to Jennifer that evening when she picked up the kids after her med school classes.  In the rush to get the children home and spend time with them before putting them to bed, she wasn’t any more concerned than Roy.  At least not right then.  The concern would come a few days later, when the limp grew more obvious, and it became apparent that Brandon didn’t have a cold in his eye, or any other type of minor infection common to young children.         

 

Jennifer took the boy to his pediatrician. That was the beginning of a long series of doctors, tests, hospital stays, surgery, and finally chemotherapy and radiation treatments.  For a period of time, they were given a reprieve.  After months of uncertainties and fear, Brandon went into remission and grew stronger.  But the hope Roy carried that the brain tumor would never return was short-lived.  Brandon had just two good years before the cycle of tests and surgery and chemotherapy began again.  This time, Roy knew Brandon wouldn’t live. He never voiced it, but he knew, and he had no doubts Jennifer and Dan, given their medical educations, knew it too. 

 

The marriage that had taken place too quickly as far as Roy was concerned, fell apart during the years of Brandon’s illness. Jennifer kept that fact from her parents for as long as she could, but eventually Libby was left with Roy and Joanne just a little too often, and Dan no longer seemed comfortable around Roy and his family, and any conversation taking place between Dan and Jennifer seemed stilted at best; short, clipped and sharp at worst.  At first, Roy attributed the changes he observed to the stress brought to the marriage by Brandon’s illness.  But eventually he and Joanne had to accept the inevitable. That Dan and Jennifer’s marriage wouldn’t survive Brandon’s death.  As Roy’s daughter sought comfort from him at her son’s funeral rather than from her husband, it was obvious to Roy that the marriage was over.  He caressed Libby’s head, looking down into the red-rimmed tear-filled eyes that silently asked him why her world was falling apart. He wished he had an answer for her, but he didn’t. He wished he could make everything right for her, but he couldn’t. He wished he had the power to bring Brandon back to life for her, healthy and whole, but he couldn’t do that either. 

 

When the service was over, Roy lingered behind the departing mourners.  After everyone had gotten into their vehicles, or was standing in small groups talking, Roy ran a hand over the smooth coffin and said a final choked goodbye to his grandson.  He had so many other things he wanted to say to the child, but he knew if he did he’d start crying, and he wouldn’t let himself do that.  It would frighten Libby, upset Jennifer, and cause Joanne worry. It wasn’t easy being the person everyone depended on to get them through the hard times, but that was the role Roy had carved out for himself as head of the DeSoto family.  It might be an out-of-date notion, but as far as he was concerned, these were the responsibilities of a husband, father, and grandfather.

 

 Roy had no desire to attend the luncheon the DeSotos’ church was hosting for them and their friends, but it would be rude and seemingly ungrateful if he skipped it.  He felt an arm slip through one of his.  He glanced sideways, expecting to see Joanne.

 

“Hey, hose jockey,” a quiet voice said.  “How’re you holding up?”

 

Roy managed a slight smile.  “Haven’t been a hose jockey in a long time now.”

 

“Doesn’t seem like it to this old head nurse.”

 

“You’re not old.”

 

“Older than I was when you first started working out of Rampart.”

 

Roy chuckled while thinking of his ever-widening bald spot, white hair, and the extra pounds he now carried around his middle.  “Aren’t we all.”

 

Dixie rested her head against Roy’s arm and stared at the casket.  When she’d finished silently paying her final respects to Brandon, she grasped Roy’s hand and waited patiently until he was ready to leave. 

 

Roy couldn’t think of anything he’d done in his life that was more difficult than turning away from his grandchild’s coffin.  He tried to find comfort in the thought that Brandon was no longer suffering.  But comfort wasn’t at hand, and as the old saying went, death was harder on those left behind.

 

Roy gave Dixie’s hand a light squeeze, appreciating her friendship and support. He looked at the people milling around their cars.  Kelly Brackett, Mike Morton, nurses who’d taken care of Brandon at L.A.’s Children’s Hospital throughout his four year illness, Branny’s pediatrician, family members and long-time friends and neighbors, Roy’s current paramedic class, and numerous young men and women he’d taught over the past two years. Also in attendance were men he’d worked with thirty years ago when he’d first joined the department, men he’d supervised during his years as captain of Station 26, his superiors from headquarters, and all of the men he’d worked with on Station 51’s A-shift, including Hank Stanley and his wife Grace, who’d driven down from Monterey.  Well…all of the men he’d worked with at 51’s except John Gage. 

 

If Johnny knew about Brandon, would he be here? 

 

Without an ounce of doubt, Roy knew the answer to that question.  For the girl Johnny had fondly called Jenny Bean; yes, he’d be here.

 

Roy was surprised at the twinge of disappointment he felt when he didn’t spot Johnny’s face in the crowd, then chastised himself for his foolishness.  He’d made it clear to Johnny thirteen years ago that he was no longer welcome in the DeSoto home.  That he was no longer a part of their lives.  Roy had no idea where the man was, if he still worked for a fire department, or even if he was alive.  For all Roy knew, Johnny could be dead.  Dead, just like Brandon was dead.

 

            It took the death of his grandson to make Roy realize how short life really was.  How it seemed like he was just a young firefighter, excited and enthusiastic about being certified as a paramedic. How it seemed like just yesterday that he was climbing into a squad to go on his first run with the new partner who would grow to become his best friend.  Now he didn’t know where the years had gone. His kids were grown.  The children who had taken their place called him grandpa.  He’d just buried his only grandson.  And suddenly, after years of refusing to have John Gage’s name mentioned in his presence, Roy found himself wishing Johnny were here. 

 

Roy scanned the crowd again.  When he didn’t see the man he was looking for, he straightened his shoulders, hid his disappointment, and walked with Dixie to the long line of cars waiting for him to lead the way to the church.

 

 

Chapter 69

 

Roy sighed, kneading his forehead.  By the slump to his shoulders, Johnny knew talking about Brandon had taken a lot out of the man.  Johnny stood, got the coffee pot from the counter, and refilled Roy’s mug.

 

Roy dropped his hand, glancing upward with a small smile. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

Johnny returned the pot to the warmer.  He walked back to the table, reclaiming his seat across from Roy. Silence lingered before Roy finally spoke again.

 

“It wasn’t the first time since you’d left L.A. that I realized I’d made a mistake by ending our friendship, but it was the first time it really hit me how short and unpredictable life is.  That life’s too short to let anger and pride ruin a friendship as strong as ours had been. I even thought of trying to find you after Brandon died.”

 

“But you didn’t.”

 

Roy shook his head, shame and regret evident in that small gesture.

 

“No, I didn’t. I mulled over going to headquarters to see if I could get the forwarding address you’d left.  I picked up the phone about a dozen times, wanting to call your dad and ask him how I could get in touch with you. On a lot of nights after Jo went to bed, I sat in front of the computer intending to enter your name in a search engine.  But in the end, I didn’t do any of those things.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I figured if I did make contact with you, you’d tell me to jump off a cliff – not that I would have blamed you if you had.”

 

“I wouldn’t have.”

 

“Maybe not.  But I’d have deserved it. I really…I really missed having you as my friend during the years Brandon was sick, and then after he died.  But to call you and tell you that...” Roy shrugged.  “Every time I thought of it, it didn’t seem right.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was using you or taking advantage of you.  As though you hadn’t been good enough to be my friend for thirteen years, and then suddenly I call you out of the blue, tell you Jenny’s son died, and that I need you to…just to be around to go to a ball game with, or go fishing with, or meet for breakfast every so often.  Just…just needed you to help me forget for a while every now and then.”

 

            Johnny nodded, but made no verbal response.  They’d talked about the long rift in their friendship six years ago when Evan Crammer forced a reunion to take place between them.  As far as Johnny was concerned, there was nothing left to say and no apologies left to make. Though there was one thing left for Johnny to ask.

 

            “Roy?”

 

            “Yeah?”

           

            “Why’d you catch me?”

 

            “Catch you?”

 

            “Yeah.  Why’d you catch me?”

 

            It took a moment before Johnny saw recognition in Roy’s eyes. Roy finally understood this is what he’d asked the first day Roy arrived.  Only then, it had come out sounding like, “Why...why ca-ca’sh my?”

 

            “Catch you when, Johnny? Whatta ya’ mean?”

 

            “That day at Rampart.  After you…why’d you catch me?”

 

            “After I hit you?  Why’d I catch you after I hit you?”

 

            “Yeah. Why?”

 

            “You don’t know?”

 

            Johnny shook his head.  “I’ve been wondering about that for lotta--a lotta years now.”

 

            Silence stretched so long that Johnny assumed he wasn’t getting an answer.  Just when he was about to stand and suggest they head outside and take a hike to stretch their sore muscles, Roy said quietly, “Because you were my friend.  I caught you because you were my friend.”

 

            Johnny didn’t know what to say, but then, as Roy stood and put a hand on his shoulder, he supposed this was one of those times when words weren’t necessary between friends.

 

Chapter 70

 

            In many ways, it was a “Mayberry” ending.  But then what else would you expect from Eagle Harbor, the picture postcard for small town American life if there ever was one.

 

            I doubt Carl was back in town for more than five minutes Sunday evening before being overwhelmed with phone calls about Saturday’s rescue.  What exactly took place I’m not sure, though an educated guess tells me an emergency meeting of the Police and Fire Commission members convened and lasted well beyond midnight.  After Johnny and I took Trevor to school on Monday morning, we ran a few errands. Every place we went I picked up on the tension and excitement radiating throughout the town.  As though Eagle Harbor’s citizens already knew what was coming and were trying hard to keep it a secret from Johnny.  Not that much of anything in Eagle Harbor is a secret.  I think Johnny reached the same conclusion I had, but when he didn’t say anything about the atmosphere in town, or how many people seemed to call him “Chief” with a renewed purpose and energy behind the title, I didn’t either.

 

            We were in the barn late on Monday afternoon doing the chores.  Although I hadn’t noticed much of a change of season since arriving in Alaska, Trevor was no longer playing hockey and basketball.  It was baseball that occupied his after-school time now.  He had to be picked up at the school’s diamond in an hour.  Johnny said we’d eat supper in town before coming home, which sounded good to me.

 

            The dogs barked, heralding the arrival of Johnny’s visitor.  I glanced out the barn window. 

 

            “Looks like Carl’s here.”

 

            Johnny grunted something unintelligible and kept on working.  A few seconds later, Carl entered the building.

 

            “So I hear you two relived the glories of your youth while I was gone.”

 

            I chuckled. “Something like that.”

 

            Johnny didn’t answer Carl, or even turn around to acknowledge his presence.  Carl looked at me.  I shrugged, not certain what was going through Johnny’s head.

 

            “I left a couple of messages on your machine today.”

 

            This time Johnny responded. 

 

“I know.”

 

            “How come you didn’t call me back?”

 

            “Been busy.”

 

            “Well if you’re not too busy now, I need ta’ talk to you.”

 

            “What about?”

 

            “We had a meeting last night.  Took another vote. This time it was unanimous. The job is yours if you want it.”

 

            Johnny turned from his work just enough so Carl and I could see him in profile.  His jaw looked like it had been carved out of stone, a clear indication of how pissed he was. 

 

            “What ‘bout--about Ellison?”

 

            Carl grinned. “He wasn’t invited. There’s talk around town that he’s planning to move back to Chicago.”

 

            “He could still sue.”

 

            “So let him.”

 

            When Johnny didn’t reply, Carl questioned, “John?”

 

            “I’ll think on it.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “I’ll think on it.”

 

            “But--”

 

            “I’ve had other offers know--ya’ know.”

 

            “No, I didn’t know.”

 

            “Well I have.”

 

            Carl looked at me.  I nodded.

 

            “Oh…uh…I see.  Okay.  So when do you…uh…do think you’ll have an answer for us?”

 

            “Few days I guess.”

 

            “Okay. I’ll tell them that. By Friday?”

 

            “Sure. I’ll let know--you know on Friday morning.”

 

            “Great.  Good.  That’ll work.” 

 

            When Johnny didn’t say anything else, Carl looked at me again.  His discomfort and confusion were obvious, but considering Johnny’s presence, there wasn’t any way I could explain what I surmised was going on.  Besides, Carl would figure it out on his own once he thought it through for a few minutes.

 

            “Guess…um…guess I better get back to work.  See you guys later.”

 

            “See ya’ later, Carl.”

 

            Johnny’s, “See ya’,” was barely audible.  Carl stared at his back a few seconds longer, then finally turned and headed for the Durango.

 

            I didn’t say anything until we’d finished in the barn and were walking to the house to wash up. 

 

            “You know, there’s an old saying that goes something like, ‘don’t kill the messenger.’”

 

            Johnny scowled. “What’s that su’pose to mean?”

 

            “Carl’s a good friend of yours.  Don’t be mad at him just because he was the one they sent out here.”

 

            “I’m not mad at him.”

 

            “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

 

            “Just didn’t feel like talk about--talking about it.”

 

            I couldn’t fault Johnny for being ticked off.  For as much as I knew he wanted his old job back, I also knew it wasn’t easy for him to accept that just ten days earlier almost half of the men on the police and fire commission were too gutless to stand up for him in the face of a lawsuit.  I didn’t know what I’d do if I were in his position, but I did know which decision I thought would make him the happiest.

 

            “You’re the only one who can decide what’s best,” I said as we entered the house, “but just remember what I learned the hard way a long time ago.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “That’s life’s too short to let anger and pride ruin the good things. The things you wish you could have back after your anger’s cooled and your pride doesn’t seem so important any more.”      

 

            Johnny didn’t respond, so I dropped the subject.  After we’d cleaned up, we left to get Trevor.  We ate supper at Yuri’s before returning home.  Trevor went to his room to do homework while Johnny and I settled in front of the T.V.  The ferry accident was still making the local news as the Alaskan transportation committee began its investigation into why the ship had sunk.  From what the reporter said, it would be several weeks before any conclusions were reached.

 

Johnny paid little attention to the news report on our “relived glories” as Carl referred to it. He hadn’t been so quiet and distracted since I’d first arrived.  This time I knew what was on his mind, but since I didn’t have any advice to give him beyond what I’d already offered, I kept my opinions to myself and hoped he’d be happy with whatever decision he finally reached.

                       

Chapter 71

 

            Roy arrived at the paramedic-training center on Monday morning an hour before he was scheduled to. He liked to be fully prepared whenever a new group of students arrived.  He started coffee brewing in the kitchen that, despite a complete remodeling, still held the essence of Station 51’s day room to the man who’d spent so many years in this building.

 

            Roy had left Eagle Harbor the previous Wednesday as planned.  Johnny drove him to Gus’s after dropping Trevor off at school.  From there, Gus flew Roy to Anchorage where he caught his flight for L.A.  

 

            Roy’d been gone from home for two months.  He was eager to return to his wife and family, yet it wasn’t easy saying goodbye to Trevor and Johnny.  The three of them had been through a lot together since February, and in so many ways Trev and Johnny were also Roy’s family, just as much as if Johnny had been his brother by blood, and Trevor his nephew. 

 

            Roy had said his goodbyes to Trevor that morning before they left the house. Johnny hadn’t told Trevor he’d been offered his job back.  Not that Roy blamed him. Johnny didn’t need pressure from Trevor regarding this decision any more than he needed it from Roy or Carl. As far as Trevor knew, they would still be vacating the house he’d grown up in and move into a new home sometime during November.  Maybe that would happen yet.  Roy didn’t know.  He got the impression that no matter what decision Johnny made, he’d go forward with the purchase of the land. Roy thought that was a smart idea.  Whether Johnny didn’t return to his job or whether he did, eventually the day would come when he had to vacate the home owned by the fire department.  If his plans were to stay in Eagle Harbor after retirement, then owning property there was a wise investment.

 

            Roy’s goodbyes to Johnny were said at the airport while they waited for Gus to do a pre-flight check. They exchanged a bear hug, then slowly walked toward the plane. With a grin and just a hint of embarrassment, Johnny said, “Glad you didn’t leave when I tole--told you to get the hell out.”

 

            Roy smiled.  “I’m glad I didn’t either.”

 

            “Thanks, Roy.  Couldn’t ‘ave done it without you.”

 

            “You could have. But either way, I was happy to help.”

 

            “Tell Jo and the kids thanks.”

 

            “For what?”

 

            “Lettin’ you stay so long.”

 

            “They probably didn’t even miss me.”

 

            Johnny shot Roy a look that said he thought otherwise.  As they reached the plane, Roy with his suitcase in hand and Johnny carrying the backpack, Gus trotted down the stairs.

 

            “I’m ready to head out if you are, Roy.”

 

            “I’m ready.”

 

            Gus took the suitcase and backpack, trotting up the stairs to stow them.  Johnny patted his old friend on the back, said, “Thanks again for ever’thing,” then stepped back from the plane and watched as Roy’s boarded it. 

 

            He stood on the edge of the tarmac watching the plane taxi down the runway. He waved until the Cessna was too high in the air for Johnny to be more than a speck on the ground to Roy.

 

            Roy glanced at the clock on his office wall.  Going on nothing more than instinct, he picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory.  He wasn’t too surprised when he heard a familiar voice on the other end of the line.

 

            “Eagle Harbor Fire Dep’arment. Chief Gage speaking.”

 

            “I had a feeling I’d find you there.”

 

             Johnny chuckled. “You know me too well.”

 

            “Guess I do.”

 

            The men talked for a few minutes about Roy’s trip home, and how Johnny finally felt useful again. Like Roy, he’d arrived at work early that day in order to settle back in after such a prolonged absence.  He still had some physical therapy sessions ahead of him, and was only allowed to work part time until he saw Doctor Webber for a checkup in mid-May, but from the tone of his voice, Roy knew Johnny was right where he needed to be in order for him to make a complete recovery. 

 

            The training center’s back door opened and voices drifted in from the kitchen.

 

            “Sorry to have to cut this off, Johnny, but I’d better go. Some of my students just came in.”

 

            “That’s okay.  I gotta go too. 

 

            They said goodbye, but right before Roy hung up the phone he heard Johnny call his name.

 

            “Yeah?  I’m still here.”

 

            “Juz--just wanted to say that I’m glad you caught me.”

 

            “I’m glad I did too, Junior,” Roy chuckled. “I’m glad I did too.” 

 

            They hung up, both of them now occupied with starting their workdays.  Thirty minutes later, as Roy looked out over the faces that reminded him of how young he and Johnny had been when they’d begun their paramedic training, he was happy that he and his closest friend were given the opportunity to make up for lost years.

 

~ ~ ~

 

Feedback

 

(January, 2005)

 

Thank you to long-time fandom friend Audrey for answering numerous questions about her home state of Colorado.

 

Thank you to Becca for taking the time to answer medical questions.

 

Thank you to another long-time fandom friend, Jane L., for always volunteering to read and offer opinions on any Emergency! story I’m in the process of writing.  

 

And thank you to Jill Hargan, who took so much time out of her busy schedule to read this story while it was a work in progress, and then for offering to give it a final beta read upon completion. Every so often in fandom life, you’re lucky enough to find another writer who is your “kindred spirit,” as Anne Shirley refers to her treasured friend Diana in the Anne of Green Gables books.  Jill and I can talk about writing and story telling techniques all day if given half a chance, making her my kindred spirit in this hobby known as fan fiction.

 

 

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