Chapter 28

 

Johnny told me once that Southeastern Alaska normally gets far more rain than snow.  Usually a winter snowfall was like the one I’d experienced while visiting with my family six years ago. Wet fat heavy flakes that blanketed the trees and bent their branches, but that didn’t stick around long once the daytime temperature rose above freezing. But Johnny had said every few years Eagle Harbor got hit with an unusual weather pattern that brought colder than normal temperatures and blizzards along with them.  Lucky me. This was evidently the year for that.

 

Trevor and I were in the barn feeding the animals by six-twenty.  It was still as dark as if it’d been midnight. Trev said it wouldn’t be until eight o’clock or so that we’d begin to see some daylight.

 

My breath came out in cold foggy puffs.  “Alaska gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘a long cold winter’.”

 

Trevor shot me a glance.  His crooked grin made him look like his father’s younger twin.   “Gettin’ soft in your old age, Uncle Roy?”

 

“Nope.  Just never spent much time in a climate like this.”  I looked out a window. With the help of a bright yard light I saw the snow still falling.  “And now I know why.”

 

“Just like you can’t imagine living here year ‘round, I can’t imagine living where you do.”

 

“No?”

 

The boy shook his head. “I like winter.”

 

“Good thing,” I teased. “ ‘Cause it looks like you’ll have plenty of it this week.”

 

“Looks that way.”

 

We hurried through the chores.  Trevor rolled the barn door open so he could call for the dogs he’d let out for a run when we’d entered.  A blast of cold air and snow swept in.  Right behind that came Tasha and Nicolai.  Droplets of snow splattered the walls when each of the dogs gave a mighty shake.  They ran for their food bowls as Trevor rolled the door shut and secured it. 

 

We opened the service door that stepped into the garage where the tractor sat.  I studied the instrument panel and various levers for a few seconds.  When I was pretty certain I knew how to start it, I climbed on. 

 

“Open the door for me, will ya’, Trev?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Trevor crossed to the wall where the garage door opener was mounted.  He hit the button and I heard the chains kick in that raised the door.  Trev ran back to my side, scrambling on beside me as I started the John Deere’s engine.  The silver lid on the smoke stack bounced up and down with a smooth “clack clack clack” each time exhaust was eliminated. 

 

I shouted to Trevor over the sound of the engine.  “You holding on?”

 

“Yeah!”

 

Trevor grasped the back of the tractor’s seat and leaned against the metal wheel-well.  I looked over my shoulder. I saw nothing but darkness punctuated by white snowflakes.  I studied the big levers in the middle of the tractor’s floor again, nodding when Trevor pointed to the one closest to my right hand. 

 

“I think that’s the gear shift!”

 

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough!” 

 

I pushed in and then down to the right.  I slowly eased off the clutch. If the tractor went forward instead of backwards, I wanted to stop it quickly.  I figured my popularity with Johnny would decrease even further if I ran the tractor through his garage wall. 

 

I didn’t have to shove the clutch in or slam on the brake.  The tractor rolled backwards, just like I’d hoped it would.  I grinned at Trevor.

 

“There! That wasn’t so bad.  Now if we can just figure out how to make it go forward and then get the bucket to work!”

 

Trevor laughed.  Neither of us was laughing though, when snow slapped our faces.  I turned the steering wheel to the left, then straightened it so the nose of the tractor was pointed north - the direction I wanted it to go.  Trevor reached around my body, pressed in the gearshift, and moved it into what I hoped was first gear.

 

“Got it?” I asked.

 

“Yeah.  Go ahead! I think we’re in first!”

 

“You think?”

 

Again, I got Johnny’s grin.  “We might as well live dangerously.  Go for it!”

 

 I eased off the clutch, smiling again as we smoothly moved forward at about five miles an hour.  

 

“Good job, Trev!”

 

“Thank…Stop, Uncle Roy! Stop!”

 

I slammed on the brake, the big tires spinning in the snow.  At first I didn’t know why Trevor shouted. All I saw was snow driven at a right angle by the wind.  But then I spotted him in the glow of the John Deere’s headlights.  Johnny.  As far as I’d known, he’d still been in bed when Trevor and I left the house. Now he was standing in front of the tractor wearing jeans, boots, his winter coat, and gloves.  I didn’t see his cane anywhere as he limped toward us.

 

“O-Off!”

 

“Johnny--”

 

He grabbed my arm and yanked.  “O-O-Off!”

 

“Johnny, look, if you wanna climb up here I’ll help you, but don’t pull me--”

 

“Off da-da-damn! Da-damn ‘ou!  O-o-off!”

 

He yanked again.  If I hadn’t been hanging onto the steering wheel I would have ended up on the ground. 

 

“Papa!  Papa, stop!” Trevor started to climb down.  “Stop it!”

 

Johnny pointed a finger at Trevor. “Stay!”

 

Another jerk on my coat sleeve finally convinced me to jump down.  I had no idea what Johnny was doing, but he was so upset that I decided it was best to follow his orders.  I thought maybe he was confused by finding Trevor and me on the tractor and simply needed an explanation.  Snow stung my face as I yelled to be heard over the engine and the storm.

 

“I’m just gonna plow the driveway!  Trevor’s helping me!”

 

“No!”

 

“But I have to in order to get him to school! If you don’t want him riding on the tractor, that’s okay.  I understand.  He can go in the house with you and--” 

 

“No! Me!”

 

“What?”

 

“I-I-I-do!”

 

“Johnny, I don’t think--”

 

He glared at me, daring me to stop him from plowing his own driveway. When I thought of it in those terms, I realized how ridiculous it was for us to be standing in the middle of a snowstorm at quarter to seven in the morning, arguing over whether or not Johnny should get on the tractor.  I didn’t think it was a smart thing for him to do given his weak left side and memory problems, and I especially didn’t think it was a smart thing for him to do with Trevor riding along, but the tractor was Johnny’s not mine. Therefore, short of attempting to reason with him one last time, my ability to put a halt to his actions was limited.

 

“Look, Johnny, I don’t think now’s the time for you to do this.  In a few weeks--”

 

“No!”

 

“John--”

 

I watched as he struggled to get on the tractor.  I motioned for Trevor to climb off.  If Johnny was intent on killing himself there wasn’t much I could do to stop him. But he had no right to take Trevor with him.

 

Trevor started to climb down, I don’t necessarily think because I was urging him to, but because he was uncertain of Johnny’s intentions. He was scared. I knew he’d never seen Johnny act this way – irrational is the only way to describe it – any more than I’d ever seen Johnny act this way.

 

Johnny threw his right arm backwards, blocking his son’s path.  “No! Stay!”

 

Now I was getting angry. “Johnny, let him get off if he wants to!”

 

“No!”

 

“Look, if you wanna kill yourself on that thing, then go ahead, but you’re not taking Trevor with you!”

 

“Mi-mi-min- ‘ou go-go damn biz-biz!”

 

I wasn’t sure what Johnny had said. Between the wind, the tractor’s engine, and his garbled speech, the best I could come up with was, “Mind your own goddamn business.” 

 

To punctuate that command, he lashed out with his left boot and caught me in the center of my chest. I stumbled, barely staying on my feet.

 

“Papa! Papa, stop it!” Trevor looked from his father to me.  The poor kid.  Once again he was caught between us. “It’s okay, Uncle Roy!  It’s okay!  Just go in the house and wait for us!”

 

I wasn’t going in the house, but I backed up a few feet so Johnny wouldn’t perceive me as a threat.  I wasn’t concerned about being kicked again.  He didn’t have enough strength in his left leg to seriously hurt me.  However, if he was bent on driving the tractor, I wanted his concentration focused on what he was doing instead of on what I was doing.

 

I watched as the tractor took off with a jerk that threw Trevor backwards. Fortunately he was gripping the seat and didn’t lose his footing.  Johnny’d opened the throttle up too far.  Whether that was a result of his poor coordination or poor memory, I wasn’t certain.  I watched as the tractor sped down the driveway.  I knew he’d never make the curve just beyond the house if he didn’t slow down.

 

I raced behind the John Deere, slipping and sliding on the fine layer of ice hidden beneath the snow.

 

“Johnny, slow down!  Slow down!”

 

 Trevor screamed, “Papa!  Pops, stop!  Slow down!  Slow down!” as he fought Johnny for control of the tractor.  

 

The glow from the yard lights lining the driveway allowed me to see a blur of green as the John Deere careened around the curve.  I knew what the end result would be long before I witnessed it.  The tractor flipped onto its right side, its occupants tumbling from my sight.

 

My lungs burned as I fought my way through the snow at a speed I didn’t think I possessed any longer. All I could picture was Johnny, or Trevor, or both of them, crushed beneath the massive weight of the tractor. 

 

I found Johnny first.  He’d landed in the snow a few feet from the John Deere,and didn’t appear to be hurt. He was struggling to get up, frantically calling Trevor’s name.

 

“Tev! Tev!”  A father’s panic allowed him to get his last attempt out clearly.  Trevor!  Trevor!”

 

I spotted Trevor fifteen feet Johnny.  He emerged from the middle of a snow bank with blood running down his face.  I waded through the deep snow.  I was panting when I finally reached Trevor and urged him to sit so I could check him for head and spinal injuries. 

 

“I’m okay!”

 

“Sit down, Trev!”

 

“I’m all right, Uncle Roy!  Where’s Papa?”

 

“He’s fine!  He’s right behind me.”

 

Trevor spotted Johnny hobbling toward us.  The boy’s relief at seeing his father wasn’t hurt quickly changed to anger.  Johnny grasped his son’s shoulders, only to have his arms thrown aside.

 

“What were you doing? Why’d you do that?  Why didn’t you listen to Uncle Roy when he told you not to get on the tractor?  You could have killed us!  Why can’t you understand that things have changed?  Why do you keep pretending you’re okay, when we all know you’re not?  Geez, Pops, get a grip, okay!  Go to therapy like you’re supposed to!  Do the exercises you’re supposed to do here at home! Do the things you’re supposed to do in order to get better before you do something stupid again like getting on that tractor!”

 

At any other time, Trevor wouldn’t have gotten away with talking to Johnny like that.   He’d have probably gotten a smack across the face that would’ve landed his butt right back in the snow bank he’d just climbed out of, and under other circumstances, he should have.  But under the current circumstances his fury and disrespectful words were justified. At first I thought Johnny seemed contrite, but then he came at Trevor with an equal amount of fury and pent up rage.

 

“Shu—shu ‘ou mou-mouf!  ‘Ou-‘ou don’ know wha-wha-what it’s ‘ike!  ‘Ou-‘ou don’ know…don’ know ‘ow-how I feel!”

 

“That’s because you won’t let me know how you feel! You shut me out just like you shut everyone out!  No one thinks less of you but yourself, Papa!  You don’t have to prove anything to me, or to anyone else!  I don’t care if you can drive a tractor or if you can’t drive a tractor!  I don’t care if you can be the fire chief of this town again, or if you can’t ever go back to work!  I just want my father back!”  Tears mixed with the blood on Trevor’s face. “I just want my father back instead of the stranger who took his place the day you came home from the hospital!”

 

            I couldn’t read the expression on Johnny’s face.  Whatever emotions Trevor’s words evoked inside him, he kept well hidden. He turned and trudged toward the house with Trevor yelling after him, “Yeah, go ahead and walk away, just like you do every time you don’t wanna hear what someone has to say!  Go ahead and walk away from me!  See what I care!  Just see what I care!”

 

            “Trev, calm down,” I urged.  “Let’s get you in the house so I can find out where that blood’s coming from.”

 

            Trevor swiped at his tears with the sleeve of his coat. “I don’t care where it’s coming from. I’m fine.  I gotta get the tractor up.”

 

            The tractor was still running on its side in the snow.  I eyed it.  There was no way Trevor and I could right it without help.  Before I had the chance to tell him that the only thing we could do was shut it off and leave it like it was until I figured out who to contact for assistance, headlights swept over us. 

 

At first I thought someone had heard all the yelling, seen the flipped tractor, and called the cops.  Then common sense took over, reminding me that Johnny’s nearest neighbor was almost a mile away.  Whatever had brought Carl Mjtko to Johnny’s this early in the morning, it wasn’t a “disturbing the peace” call.      

 

The big man shot out of the police department’s Durango.  He was in full uniform, including a heavy winter coat his badge and nametag were pinned to.  He looked from the tractor to Trevor’s bloody face.

 

“What’s goin’ on?”

 

“Nothing,” I downplayed. “Just a little…accident.  I guess I don’t know as much about plowing driveways as I thought.”

 

“It wasn’t Uncle Roy’s fault. It was Papa’s. He--”

 

I elbowed Trevor, hoping he’d understand that I wanted him to control his temper and keep his mouth shut.  Although I knew Carl was a loyal friend to Johnny, I also knew how gossip raced through a fire department. Johnny would be humiliated if word got around town about what had really happened that morning.

 

“I guess Trevor and I should have stayed inside this morning,” was how I finished things.  “Is there someone we can call who’ll come and plow us out so I can get him to school?  I’ll pay whatever it costs.”

 

“There is,” Carl nodded, “but you don’t need to do that.  I stopped by in the first place to see you if you needed me to plow.”

 

“Oh.”  All I could think of was how much trouble I could have avoided had I known Carl was coming over. And how I wouldn’t be standing in the middle of a snowstorm shivering, while knowing I could have stayed in bed another hour.  “Well…poor timing on my part, looks like.”

 

“Looks like,” Carl agreed.  He walked around the tractor, reached for the ignition, and shut it off.  “I’ll take care of this if you’ll take care of that cut on Trevor’s head.”

 

“Now that I can do.”

 

Carl eyed me for a few seconds. His gaze shifted to the imprint of a man’s body in the snow a few feet from the tractor, and then to the set of boot prints headed toward the house.  He looked at me again as though he was sizing me up.  He already knew I was a good friend to Johnny, but evidently I’d just moved up a few notches in that department where Carl was concerned.  He gave me a quick nod, as if to say he’d put two and two together and come up with four, but he never verbally acknowledged that. 

 

As I put an arm around Trevor’s shoulders and urged him to tromp through the snow to the house, Carl opened the Durango’s door and got on the radio.  I heard him place a non-emergency call for a fire engine.  I assumed Carl planned to right the tractor with the aid of the engine and her crew.  Although I could have been of help to the engine crew, my first priority was Trevor.  He and I entered the laundry room, allowing Carl to take care of what needed doing outside, while I took care of what needed doing inside.

 

Chapter 29

 

He ignored Roy’s calls of, “Johnny!  Johnny!  Hey, Johnny, where are you?” as he buried his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat. 

 

He was seated on a log beneath a cedar tree in the lower end of the National Forest that bordered the back of his barn.  He didn’t answer Roy because he had no desire to be found.  He wasn’t a child. When he was ready to return to the house, he would.  But currently the house seemed like a prison.  A place he spent too much time in, and could no longer leave at will.  Instead, he had to wait for someone to come pick him up and take him wherever the driver dictated.  Well, Johnny was tired of being dictated to.  And after just twenty-four hours, he was also tired of Roy.

 

Tired of the man being in his home.

 

Tired of the man telling him what he could and couldn’t do. 

 

And tired of the man trying to take his son from him.  

 

He’d planned to show Trevor how to use the tractor this winter.  That was something he’d wanted to do with his son.  It wasn’t Roy’s place to take over and do it for him. Especially not without asking.  Just like it hadn’t been Roy’s place to pick Trevor up from school the previous evening, or to make supper.

 

Yeah, but you couldn’t even remember that Trevor needed a ride home from school, Johnny’s common sense reminded him.  And you weren’t going to make supper. If it had been up to you, Trevor would have eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for the third night in a row.

 

Johnny scowled, angry at the internal thoughts that were barraging him with the truth, and forcing him to face it whether he wanted to or not.   So far all he’d done was fail the one person he’d never wanted to fail – Trevor.  His son could have been killed when the tractor tipped over.  Roy was right to urge him to let Trevor get off of the John Deere, but Johnny’s pride wouldn’t allow him to listen – his pride, and his jealousy over seeing Trevor on that tractor with Roy. 

 

When Johnny gave it some thought, he had to admit it was stupid.  He was stupid.  His own actions were pushing Trevor away, not Roy’s actions.  He hadn’t even gone to the house to see how his son was.  He didn’t know when his absence had been discovered, but according to his watch it was now twenty minutes after nine, so Johnny suspected he hadn’t been missed until Roy returned from taking Trevor to school.  They must have assumed he was in Clarice’s room and hadn’t bothered to check. 

 

The wind had died down when dawn began to break.  The woods grew so quiet that it had been easy to hear men’s voices calling directions back and forth about how to right the tractor. The piercing “beep beep beep” that followed indicated a fire engine was backing down his driveway.  Then the tractor’s engine came to life again, and he was able to follow its sound as it traveled up and down the driveway more times than Johnny bothered to keep track of.  He wasn’t sure who was plowing, but his money was on Carl.  Not long after the sound of the tractor ceased, Johnny’s Land Rover started, and he surmised Roy was leaving to take Trevor to school.  Roughly forty minutes after that, Johnny’d heard Roy call his name for the first time.  Now the call came again.

 

“Johnny!  Hey, Johnny!” but Roy was moving away from him.  By the way the sound was growing more distant, Johnny could tell Roy was headed toward the grove of Sitka Pines that grew in front of his house and formed a barrier between his property and the road.

 

The snowfall had slowed now, the flakes fluttering from the sky like tiny cotton balls.  He hadn’t bothered to put a hat on before leaving the house.  He hated hats, and only wore one on the coldest days of winter.  He had a navy blue headband around his skull like the kind skiers wore, and while it kept his ears warm it didn’t prevent the snow from landing on his head and soaking into his hair.  Nonetheless, Johnny didn’t bother to pull up his hood.  He barely noticed the discomfort of the cold snow melting between his neck and his shirt, or the way his toes and fingers were growing numb, as he remembered the last time he’d felt this alone and out of place.

 

Chapter 30

 

Johnny leaned against the wooden frame with his arms crossed over his chest, staring out the picture window of his second floor apartment.  His eyes traveled from the scraggly yard in front of the building where a few children were playing, to the tops of the leafy trees that lined the sidewalk.  The oranges, reds, and golds of a Colorado autumn were in full beauty.  The brilliant colors and nip in the air that reminded Johnny of Montana was one thing he’d missed during the years he’d lived in Southern California.  The October temperatures in Denver were ten to fifteen degrees warmer than the October temperatures in Johnny’s hometown of White Rock, but still, it was cooler than the average temperature in L.A. at this time of year.  It was “sweatshirt weather,” as Johnny’s mother would have said, and taking note of how the kids below were dressed proved his mother correct.  

 

Johnny’s gaze turned from the narrow street to the stark white walls of his living room.  The apartment was given a fresh coat of paint after the previous tenet moved out, but that only seemed to emphasize the marred wood trim of the floor boards and the stains in the beige carpeting that even a steam cleaning done by professionals hadn’t been able to remove.  The living room was long and narrow, serving as living and dining room both.  The kitchen was to the right of the table and chairs Johnny had set at the end of the living room, and so tiny that he could barely maneuver in it.  That didn’t matter to the paramedic though.  He hadn’t been in the mood to make himself a meal since arriving in Denver that went beyond pouring cereal into a bowl, or slapping together a cold sandwich.  If he wasn’t eating at the fire station while on-duty, then he was grabbing something at a fast food restaurant for his supper and eating it in front of the T.V. set.

 

To the left of the living room was the bedroom.  Johnny’s triple dresser and king sized bed dominated the cramped space.  He had to shuffle sideways around the bed in order to reach the closet, and it was impossible to open the bottom row of drawers because they hit the bed when pulled out.  At the other end of the short hall that housed the bedroom was a tiny bathroom.  In these two rooms as well, bright white walls offset scuffed woodwork, and in the bathroom, beige vinyl flooring flecked with gold that was dried and cracked with age. 

 

Nothing about the apartment spoke of home to Johnny, but then, he hadn’t done anything to make it his home, either.  All of his personal items were in storage other than the daily necessities. He hadn’t even bothered to bring his box of pictures here in order to hang some on the walls. Many of the photos contained members of the DeSoto family, as well as other memories best left behind and forgotten in Los Angeles. 

 

 Almost ten years had passed since John Gage lived in an apartment.  He hadn’t thought he’d miss his ranch as much as he did, or find apartment living as boring and lonely as he was.  He didn’t remember feeling this way when he’d lived in his apartment in Carson, but Johnny acknowledged the reason behind that. He’d had a young single man’s lifestyle then with no ties to property or a mortgage payment, and with plenty of friends in the fire department like Chet, and Marco, and various paramedics, all of whom were single too, and always looking for something to do on a Saturday night if they weren’t on-duty or didn’t have dates. 

 

After Johnny bought his ranch he’d left behind that single man’s lifestyle to some extent, because as a homeowner he was always busy fixing things, remodeling things, and rebuilding things in his spare time.  Now he wasn’t in his twenties any longer, like he’d been when he’d lived in his previous apartment. He was thirty-nine. There just weren’t many single guys in his age group to do things with who weren’t gay, and he certainly wasn’t going to seek any of them out just because he was new in town and had nothing to do when he wasn’t on-duty.    

 

As far as being on-duty went, it was too early for Johnny to pass judgment on his co-workers, or the Denver Fire Department.  He’d been on the job just three weeks.  Things were going okay so far, and Johnny was getting to know his partner, Greg Kulmeyer.  He liked Greg, and was thankful he hadn’t been partnered with some jerk that would remind him of Craig Brice, but it was still too soon for Johnny to tell if he and Greg would eventually become good friends, or if their relationship would never extend beyond two men who worked well together, but had little in common outside of the fire station.   As for anyone else within the department – they were still just faces to him, with the exception of the other guys assigned to his shift at Station 28.  As with Greg, Johnny was just now getting to know them better and observing how they worked as a team.  They seemed like a good bunch of guys, but Johnny supposed it would take a few more weeks before he was fully comfortable around them, and vice versa.  It had been years since Johnny had been the “new guy” and he’d forgotten what a shitty feeling that was.

 

The man moved away from the window, regretting now that he hadn’t taken more time to find himself a decent apartment when he’d visited Denver in August.  A well-kept building would have been nice, with bigger rooms, new carpeting, and a patio where he could step outside and enjoy the fall weather.  Instead, he’d settled for the first apartment he could find because of his haste to leave L.A.

 

Johnny sighed as he walked toward the phone. What did it really matter anyway?  It was just a place to live for the time being.  Just until he found something more to his liking – whatever that might turn out to be. Another apartment.  A house.  A small ranch.  A condo.  He hadn’t ruled any of those possibilities out, but until he was certain he wanted to stay in Denver there was no need to make any more hasty decisions than he already had.  Not that he regretted moving.  That was the one thing he didn’t regret.  It had to be done.  For the sake of Roy and his family there hadn’t been another choice.

 

The paramedic dropped to his couch.  He stared at the phone on the end table for a full minute before finally picking up the receiver.  He dreaded making this call but had no choice.  It had been over three weeks since he’d talked to the man.   Usually he talked to him several times a month.  If Johnny didn’t call soon, he knew his lack of contact would cause a lot of needless worry.

 

Johnny forced himself to punch the numbers in.  The phone rang four times, then a familiar voice came on the line that was a bit out of breath, as though the man had run in from outside.

 

“ ‘Lo?”

 

“Hi…Hi, Dad.”

 

“John!  John, son, where are you?”

 

Johnny’s was puzzled by his father’s question and frantic tone.  The last time Johnny’d talked to his dad was a few days before leaving California.   Although Johnny had spoken to the man several times since Chris was shot, he hadn’t told his father about that incident or all that had transpired after it.  Nor had Johnny told his father he was leaving Los Angeles.  He’d decided to wait until he got settled in Denver to make that phone – to make the phone call he was now engaged in.

 

“Where am I?”

 

“Yeah, where are you?  I’m been worried, your sister’s been worried, your grandfather’s been--”

 

“I get the picture.”  Johnny tried to affect a light tone meant to convey humor he wasn’t feeling. “No need to worry though, Dad. I’m fine.”

 

            The paramedic concluded that his father must have called his ranch - his former ranch, that is - sometime in the past three weeks and gotten a hold of Natalie or her husband.  Naturally Chad Gage would be confused and upset when he was told his son no longer lived there and that no one knew where he’d relocated.

 

            “John, you should have told me.”

 

            “I know, I know.  Look…I’m sorry.  It all came up kind of sudden like.  I got this job offer and it was just…just too good to pass up,” Johnny lied, while at the same time trying his best to sound convincing.  “Things moved along pretty quickly once I made the decision to move.”

 

            “That’s not what I mean.”

 

            “Uh…it’s not?”

 

            “No.  I mean you should have told me what happened to Chris.  What happened between you and Roy because of it.”

 

            “Oh.”  Johnny swallowed hard, resisting the temptation to hang up the phone.  He didn’t feel like talking about this to his father.  If it were possible, and Johnny had been hoping it would be, he would have kept the truth behind his move to Denver from Chad Gage for the rest of the man’s life.  “How…how did you know?”

 

            “Joanne called me.”

 

            Johnny closed his eyes, giving a slight nod.  Of course Joanne had called his father.  It made perfect sense that she would.

 

            “She was worried about you, son.  She called me a few days after you’d moved.  She wanted to know if you were here.”

 

            “In White Rock?”

 

            “She thought maybe you’d moved back home.”

 

            White Rock hadn’t been home to Johnny in so long that it sounded funny to hear his father refer to it that way.

 

            “What’d you tell her?”

 

            “What could I tell her?” 

 

            Johnny smiled at the way his father’s voice rose with indignation, the same way Johnny’s own voice rose when he was feeling like his dad was right now.

 

            “John…John, why didn’t you tell me about Chris? Why’d you keep it a secret?”

 

            Johnny’s smile faded.  Silence lingered over the phone line before he finally stammered the only explanation he had.

 

“I…it was…it’s just not easy to talk about”

 

            “I understand that.  But it wasn’t your fault. I don’t care what Roy says, it wasn’t your fault.”

 

            Chad’s loyalty meant a lot to Johnny, but it didn’t prevent him from saying, “Don’t blame Roy.   He’s been through hell these last few months because of what happened to Chris.”

 

            “And you haven’t?”

 

            By Chad’s tone, Johnny knew Joanne hadn’t left any details out regarding the events that had taken place from the day Chris was shot until the day Johnny left L.A.

 

            “I--I’m okay, Dad.”

 

            “You don’t sound okay. And Joanne wouldn’t have called me if she thought you were okay.”

 

            “I’m okay,” Johnny reiterated.

 

            The paramedic heard his father’s heavy sigh, a sign the man didn’t believe him, but also knew there was no point in pursing the issue.

 

            Chad shifted the subject.  “Where’re you living?”

 

            Johnny hesitated before answering.

 

            “John? Where are you?”

 

            The voice held that no-nonsense tone Johnny remembered from his childhood.

 

            “You…Dad, you have to promise me one thing before I tell you.”

 

            “What?”

 

            “You can’t tell Jo where I am.”

 

            “I won’t lie to you.  I told Joanne I’d call her back when I heard from you.”

 

            “That’s okay.  Call her. Let her know I’m fine.  Just don’t tell her where I’m at.”

 

            When Chad didn’t respond, Johnny said, “Look, Dad, Jo won’t pressure you to tell her more than that if she knows I asked you not to.  Just tell her I made you promise not to say where I’m living.”

 

            “But why?  She and the kids’re worried about you.”

 

            “I know. And I’m sorry about that. But it’s because of Joanne and the kids that I had to do this. That I had to move away without saying where I was going, and without giving Jo or the kids a way to contact me.  I won’t come between Roy and his family.  He can’t help Chris and get things back on track with Joanne if I’m there.  If somehow I’m always coming between all of them, even when I don’t mean to.  There’s been so much…anger. So much upset.  Everyone’s torn apart over what happened to Chris.  They’ve got to come together again as a family in order to help him, Dad.  In order to help each other.  It’s just…it’s better if I’m not there.”

 

            “Why?  Because Joanne and the kids are mad at Roy for the way he’s treated you?”

 

            “That’s part of it,” Johnny admitted.  He left the other part unspoken.  That it hurt too much to be around Roy – to see him at fires, or fire department functions – all the while knowing that if he approached the man who had been his best friend for thirteen years, that man would turn his back on Johnny.  “Just…just promise me you won’t tell her.”

 

            There was a long contemplative silence, yet when Chad said firmly, “I promise, son,” Johnny knew his father would never go back on his word.                  

 

            “So,” Chad asked, “where are you?”

 

            “Denver.”

 

            “You have a job? ‘Cause if you don’t, I can always use help here on the ranch.”

 

            Johnny smiled at the way his father was subtly asking if he needed money, and then readily providing a way for him to obtain it without losing face.

 

            “I’ve got a job.”

 

            “With a fire department?”

 

            “How’d you know?”

 

            Johnny could tell it was his dad who was smiling now when Chad answered with, “Lucky guess.”

 

            “I got hired by the Denver department.”

 

            “Doing what?  Teaching, like you were in L.A.?”

 

            “Some teaching.  But more field work than I’ve done in a few years now.”

 

            “As a firefighter?”

 

            “When I’m needed as one, yeah.”

 

            “Oh.”

 

            “Don’t worry.  I’ll be fine.”

 

            “I know you will be. It’s just that I thought that part of your career was over.”

 

            “Well…sometimes things change.”

 

            “Sometimes they do,” Johnny’s father reluctantly agreed. 

 

Johnny wished he could spare the old man worry.  His dad had been happy when Johnny’d taken the paramedic instructor position in L.A. What father wouldn’t want the assurance that his son would never have to run into another burning building?

 

            “How’d you find out about this job in Denver anyway?  You know someone there?”

 

            “Nope.” For the first time since he’d picked up the phone, Johnny relaxed against the sofa cushions. “I saw an ad in a trade journal the Denver department was running for experienced paramedics.  I applied, got a call for an interview, flew out here, and was hired a couple a’ days later.”

 

            “Like it?”

 

Johnny put just the right amount of enthusiasm in his answer. “Yeah.  Yeah, I like it a lot.” 

 

“You working with good guys? Guys who know what they’re doing?”

 

“Yeah, they seem like decent guys. They know what they’re doing.”

 

“You got someone to watch your back the way Ro…”

 

Given Chad let that sentence die unfinished, Johnny knew his father realized he was on the verge of putting his foot in his mouth. The paramedic took pity on the man.  It would take all of them some time to get used to the fact that Roy DeSoto and his family were no longer a part of Johnny’s life.

 

“I’ve got a good partner,” Johnny assured his dad. “Name’s Greg.  Nice guy.  Knows his job all the way around.”

 

“Glad to hear it.  So, when were you planning to tell me you’d moved?”

 

Johnny rolled his eyes. “That’s why I called you, Dad.”

 

“Oh…oh, well, okay. Good. Your sister and grandfather will be happy to hear everything’s okay.”

 

“Tell them I’m fine and that I’ll give ‘em both a call soon.”

 

“I’ll do that.”

 

Father and son spoke for a few more minutes about things in White Rock – cattle prices, the light dusting of snow that had fallen the previous day that was likely a predictor of an early winter, and how many times a week Chad was eating at the café owned by the woman who’d been Johnny’s mother’s best friend – Marietta Parker.  Johnny briefly wondered if there was something his father wasn’t telling him when Chad grew more and more animated while talking about the woman who’d been a widow for a number of years now, but he had too many troubles on his mind to fully focus on what it meant when his father talked about a woman non-stop for ten minutes. Something Johnny hadn’t ever heard his father do.

 

Johnny tuned back into his father as the conversation began to run its course.

 

“How’s the weather there?”

 

“Nice.  Kinda chilly, but not too bad.”

 

“How do ya’ like it?”

 

“What? The weather?”

 

“No. Denver. How do you like Denver?”

 

Johnny’s eyes flicked around his dingy apartment while thinking how out of place he felt in all aspects of this new life he’d chosen.

 

“Uh…fine, Dad.  Fine.”  Johnny closed his eyes and lied, “I like Denver just fine.”

 

Chapter 31

 

            I spun around when the door opened.  I was struck silent long enough for Carl to ask, “Roy…Roy, you still there?”

 

            I pulled my attention from Johnny and spoke into the telephone’s receiver. 

 

“Uh…yeah, Carl, I’m here.  Johnny just walked in.”

 

            “He’s all right?”

           

            “Other than looking like Frosty the Snowman, yeah, I think he’s okay.”

 

            “You need me to come out there and talk to him?  Maybe knock some sense into ’im for you?”

 

            “No,” I said to his first question, and to his second I said, “But don’t renege on your last offer. I might wanna make use of it at some point.”

 

            Carl chuckled. “The offer’ll stand as long as you need it to.”

 

            “Thanks for everything. Talk to you later.”

 

            “Yeah, later.  Hey, when you get the chance call me and let me know where he was.  What the hell he was thinking by wanderin’ off like he did.”

 

             “Sure thing. Bye.”

 

            “Bye, Roy.”

 

            I walked to the counter and put the receiver back in its base.  For a change it was me glaring at Johnny instead of the other way around.  I waited for him to say something.  When he didn’t, I willingly gave him an earful of my thoughts.

 

            “I’ve just spent the last two hours looking for you.  I don’t appreciate freezing my butt off because you decided to go somewhere and pout.  And just for your information, if you’d been gone five more minutes, every cop and firefighter in Eagle Harbor would’ve been searching for you.  As the fire chief of this town, you know better than anyone how much that type of effort costs in both salaries and manpower.  Like we used to say when we worked together – you never mind looking for someone who really is lost, but it sure pisses the hell outta ya’ when you’re sent on a wild goose chase.”

 

            I stood there expecting him to let me have it right back.  I hadn’t traveled all the way to Alaska to fight with Johnny.  Fighting with him was the last thing I wanted to do, but if a shouting match would help me figure out what he was thinking, why he’d insisted Trevor stay on the tractor that morning and then took off without telling me where he was going, I was all for it.  Not that I’m much of a shouter, but I can hold my own when sufficiently riled, and Johnny was managing to push me in that direction.

 

When all he did was stare back at me, I gave a frustrated sigh.  As the old saying goes, you can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink.  If Johnny didn’t want to talk to me, if he didn’t want to tell me where he’d been, or acknowledge that disappearing on me was inconsiderate at the very least, and damn frightening at worst, then I couldn’t force it out of him. 

 

The silence in the room calmed me down enough to notice the snow melting into his clothes and hair.

 

“You’d better get out of those wet clothes.”  I turned briefly and glanced at the clock.  “You’ve got a physical therapy session at one. If we leave in a little while, we can eat somewhere in Eagle Harbor before going over to the medical cent--”

 

He shook his head.

 

“What’s that mean?”

 

When he refused to try and answer me, I asked, “Does it mean you’re not going to physical therapy?”

 

He looked away when he gave a slight nod. 

 

I didn’t know what to make of his answers or his demeanor.  The defiance that had come through so strongly the previous day was no longer present.  I was surprised to find myself wishing it were.  I could handle that better than the heavy air of sadness and hopelessness radiating from Johnny.  Both of those emotions were so unlike him that I had no idea how to help him work through them.  How to help make him see brighter days could be ahead if only he’d do what was necessary to improve.

 

Without removing his winter clothing, he limped over to the table, pulled out a chair, and dropped to it with his back to me.   His shoulders slumped forward with weariness and defeat.

 

Softly, I asked, “Johnny, is there any way I can help you?  Anything at all I can do for you?”

 

He hesitated, then shook his head no.  I stood behind him until a minute had ticked off on the clock.  During that time he made no effort to communicate with me further, so I finally turned and slowly walked to the stairs.  I wanted so badly to help him, to be a good friend to him, but if he wouldn’t accept my help there wasn’t anything else I could do.  Maybe I’d come to Alaska for all the wrong reasons.  Maybe doing something this selfless for Johnny, and in the process trying to finally absolve myself of the guilt I still felt over causing the break in our friendship twenty-one years earlier, wasn’t why I should have come to Eagle Harbor against Johnny’s wishes.  Maybe he knew things I was just beginning to become aware of.  Maybe we’d lost something during those fifteen years of estrangement we could never fully regain.  I hadn’t previously thought so, but I began to wonder if the deep level our friendship had once reached could never fully be reached again.  Maybe I’d been fooling myself the past six years.  Maybe Johnny and I were merely friends, and not the best friends we’d once been.

 

Since I hadn’t unpacked, it didn’t take me long to get my things together.  I shut my suitcase, picked it up, and grabbed my backpack.  As I passed by the bathroom, I set the suitcase and pack down in the hall.  I stepped inside, taking my shaving kit from the vanity counter. I unzipped the backpack and put the kit inside before zipping the pack up again.  I put one of the pack’s straps over my right shoulder, and picked up the suitcase with my left hand. 

 

Johnny didn’t turn around when I entered the kitchen.

 

“If you don’t mind letting me use the Land Rover, I’ll borrow it and leave it at Gus’s. Before I fly out I’ll make arrangements with Carl to get it back here.”

 

On the words “fly out” he turned and faced me.

 

“Fla…fly ou’?”

 

“Look, you didn’t want me here in the first place. I should have respected that. I shouldn’t have taken it upon myself to show up on your doorstep uninvited.  I’m sorry.  I’ve only made things harder for you.  I’ll talk to Carl about him helping out with Trevor until Clarice is back on her feet – getting Trev back and forth to school, stuff like that.  Maybe some of the guys who work for you can help Carl where that’s concerned.  Or Mrs. Teirman.”

 

            It was Trevor I felt the sorriest for at that moment.  I hated the thought of abandoning him when he needed me the most, but if my presence wasn’t productive for Johnny and only made things worse for him, then ultimately, things would grow worse for Trevor as a result of his father’s unpredictability, as had happened that morning. 

 

            There was something in Johnny’s eyes that I couldn’t quite identify. Fear?  Disappointment?  Regret?  Then he turned away from me again so I couldn’t see whatever emotions were assaulting him.

 

            I took that action to be a dismissal.  The only trouble was that he hadn’t given me permission to use the Land Rover.  Granted, I had a key to it, but technically I’d be stealing it if I took it without Johnny saying I could.  I wouldn’t want him taking that liberty with one of my vehicles, so I wasn’t going to take it with his.

 

            “So is it okay if I borrow the Rover?”

 

            “No.”

 

            “Johnny…”

 

            “No.”

 

            I sighed.  Now my options were limited. And by limited, I mean severely limited.  Eagle Harbor has no taxi service or public transportation, so my only choices were to call Carl or Gus and ask one of them to come and get me.  I didn’t know Gus’s phone number, but I didn’t want to bother Carl. I’d already interrupted him at work once that day.  I didn’t want to do so again.

 

            “How about pointing me in the direction of a phone book then, so I can call Gus and see if he’ll come pick me up.”

 

            Johnny shrugged.

 

            “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

            “Don--don’ mem--memer phone boo…boo is.”

 

            “You don’t remember where it is?”

 

            “No.”

 

            I set my things on the floor and started searching the kitchen.  “Maybe it’s in a drawer somewhere.”

 

            “Don--don’t know.”

 

            “Then how am I supposed to get into Eagle Harbor?”

 

            “Walk.”

 

Something about the way he said that word made me turn and look at him.  I studied him a moment, then said, “You bastard.”

 

He laughed, and regardless of how ticked I was at him for playing games with me instead of simply being able to come right out and say, “Roy, I want you to stay,” I’ve got to admit I wouldn’t have traded the sound of that laughter for anything.

 

I pulled out a chair and sat next to him. “So you want me to stay?”

 

It took a moment for Johnny to give nothing other than a slight nod of his head, but that was all right.  I understood how difficult it was for him to ask for my help – to admit to himself that he needed it.  To allow me to be around him at a time when he was embarrassed to have someone witness his difficulties walking and talking.

 

I didn’t put any conditions on my agreement to stay, even though I wanted to extract promises from him that he’d let me take him to physical therapy, and that he’d start trying harder to do things for himself.  Instead, I just tried to be a supportive friend in the way I hadn’t been after Chris was shot.

 

“All right. I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

 

His eyes flicked to my face.  “Tan…tanks.”

 

We sat in silence with me wondering if I should call the medical center and cancel his physical therapy session, or just wait and play it by ear.  The center was small and without most things a hospital contains, like a state-of-the-art physical therapy department. But a physical therapist who lived in Eagle Harbor and worked at the hospital in Juneau, reported to the medical center for a few hours a couple of days a week in order to be available to anyone who needed her services.

 

I was still trying to decide what to do about Johnny’s appointment when I saw him shiver.  At last there was finally something I could do to help him. 

 

“Why don’t you take off that coat and headband and come in the great room.  I’ll start a fire and get you a blanket.”

 

When he didn’t stand, I didn’t think he was going to do what I suggested.  But then he started to get up only to slump to the chair as if standing was too much effort.  I was concerned, but not overly so.  I was pretty sure he hadn’t eaten any breakfast, so between that fact and the energy he’d expended hiking through the snow to wherever it was he’d gone to, I thought a hot meal was what he needed.

 

Johnny didn’t protest when I grasped his upper arm and helped him stand.  I held onto him while he took off his headband and coat.  He must have left his boots in the laundry room because he was in his socks, and I could see his gloves in his right coat pocket when he opened the flap and stuffed the headband into it. 

 

I supported Johnny as he walked to the living room.  I got him settled into his recliner, which was at one end of the stone fireplace hearth and angled toward the T.V.  I took his coat to the laundry room and hung it up, then grabbed my backpack and suitcase from the kitchen floor. I went upstairs, returning the suitcase and pack to Johnny’s bedroom.  I stopped at the bathroom linen closet before heading downstairs again. I’d seen blankets on one of its shelves when I’d gotten a towel and washcloth out that morning.

 

I grabbed a towel and a thick blue blanket and hurried down the stairs.  Johnny had his shoulders hunched against the chill.  I handed him the towel.

 

“Here. Dry your hair off with this.”

 

He did as I instructed while I unfolded the blanket and spread it over him.  When he had his hair as dry as he could get it, I took the towel from him. He smoothed his hair into place as I headed for the laundry room again and tossed the towel into the hamper.  I returned to the great room, started a fire in the fireplace with the logs, kindling, newspaper, and matches that were all on hand in copper containers near the hearth, then said, “I’m going to make us some lunch.”

 

Johnny leaned his head back against his chair and gave a weary nod. It was barely eleven-thirty, but his eyes closed.  I walked away quietly, knowing rest was the best thing for him at that moment.

 

I rummaged around in the kitchen, looking for something warm to make for lunch.  When all else fails, Campbell’s Soup always makes for a decent meal to fall back on.  I opened two cans of vegetable beef and made grilled cheesed sandwiches while the soup warmed.  Men our age, who are supposed to be concerned with cholesterol levels and fat consumption, probably shouldn’t be eating grilled cheese, but from my years of working with Johnny I knew it was a sandwich he liked, and it was a hot sandwich, so at that moment it fit the criteria I needed in order to get food into him.

 

I ran across a rack of T.V. trays in the kitchen pantry.  I took two out and set them up in the living room, one beside Johnny’s chair, and one by the chair I was going to sit in on the opposite end of the hearth.

 

Johnny didn’t open his eyes while I was in the great room, nor while I made our lunch.  I hated to wake him up when the meal was ready, but I wanted him to eat it while it was warm.  I carried the food in and set the plates on our trays, then went back for the glasses of milk I’d poured.  I put my glass on my tray, and did the same with Johnny’s.  I walked around to his right side and lightly shook his shoulder.

 

“Johnny…Johnny, lunch is ready.”

 

He was sleeping deeply enough that it took him a few seconds to orient himself.  I could tell he was confused as to why I was there.

 

I gently prodded his memory.  “I got here yesterday afternoon, remember?”

 

He scowled with indignation, which made me smile.

 

“I…mem--mem…’member.”

 

“I hope so. We’ve had too much fun in the past twenty-four hours for you to forget it all.”

 

He tried to scowl again at my teasing, but it turned into a slight smile despite his efforts to stop it.

 

I gave his shoulder a pat, then walked over to the other chair.  We both picked up our T.V. trays and sat them in front of us.

 

“It’s not anything special,” I said, “but it’s hot and edible.”

 

Johnny took a sip of the soup. “ ‘oot,” he nodded, which I translated to “good.”  By the way he ate, I knew I was right when I’d guessed he hadn’t had breakfast. 

 

I didn’t try to initiate conversation during the meal.  Given the two hours I’d spent trudging through snow looking for Johnny, I was as hungry as he was.  When we’d both finished eating I stood and picked up my dishes.

 

Like I’d told Trevor, it was time Johnny started doing things for himself.  Yet I knew if I wasn’t careful with my approach, we’d be locked in a battle of the wills.  A battle I’d lose, given how stubborn Johnny can be.  So as nonchalantly as possible I said, “Bring your dishes to the kitchen for me, will ya’?  My hands are full.”

 

When he stood and picked up his dishes without giving me an argument, I considered it a victory.  A small victory, but a victory nonetheless. 

 

            I opened the dishwasher door and set my plates on the counter.

 

            “Put everything in there for me while I get these pans off the stove.”

 

            Again, Johnny did as I asked.  I made a production of trying to find the dishwasher soap – a big enough production that he finally struggled to get on his knees beside me and grab it from beneath the sink.  He gripped the lip of the counter to pull himself to his feet, then filled the receptacle inside the dishwasher’s door with the powdered cleaner.  I shut the door, knelt in front of the appliance, and squinted like I was trying hard to figure out how to start it.

 

            “Let’s see here…”

 

            Johnny’s hand reached in front of my nose.  He turned the dial to the setting that read “normal wash” and I heard water start running. 

 

            I stood and tried again to sound nonchalant when I said, “Thanks.”  If acting helpless was the way I had to go about showing Johnny that he could still do basic household chores, then I was willing to act as helpless as possible until he was convinced he was capable of taking care of himself and Trevor, no matter what his disabilities were.

 

            I opened the freezer door and stared at the selection of foods it held. 

 

            “You have any preference for dinner?”

 

            When he didn’t answer me, I turned, looked at him, and asked the question again.  Just like I’d told Trevor might be necessary in order to get Johnny to talk.

 

            “Johnny – dinner. You have a preference?”

 

            He hesitated, but then finally gave me a “No.”  I was hoping for more than that – like an attempt at saying a specific food, but I accepted his “No” without hassling him over it.

 

            “Okay then…well, looks like I should have started something thawing this morning.  I don’t know if anything’ll be ready to cook by the time Trevor gets home…maybe these chicken breasts--”

 

            Before I could finish my sentence, I was spun around.  I looked into panicked eyes cold air from the freezer blew on my neck.

 

            “Tev…Tevor?”

 

            “He’s in school,” I assured I as turned around, grabbed the package of chicken, and shut the freezer door.  “So how about it? Does he like chicken breasts? If you’ve got a jar of spaghetti sauce here, an onion, and some Parmesan cheese, I can make Chicken Parmesan. I saw a box of garlic bread in the freezer, and I spotted a head of lettuce and some tomatoes in the fridge last night, so I can toss a salad.  Or Libby likes it when I make Chicken Kiev. Maybe Trev would like that too.  If you’ve got--”

 

            “No…no!”

 

            “No what?” I set the chicken in the sink to thaw.  “He doesn’t like chicken Parmesan, or he doesn’t like Chicken Kiev?”

 

            “No…Tev--Trevor.  All—all--all…igh…Tev all ’igh?”

 

            Now I was confused. “No, he’s not staying anywhere all night. Or at least not that I know of.  I’ll pick him up after basketball practice like I did--”

 

            “No!  Tac--trac…” He swallowed hard and tried again.  “Tractor?”

 

            I didn’t make him try and give me his thoughts in a complete sentence.  Now I understood what he was worried about, and understood why it had taken him this long to ask about Trevor.  He hadn’t remembered that Trev had been on the tractor with him until that moment.

 

“He’s fine, Johnny,” I hurried to assure.  “Don’t worry.  He had a cut on the back of his head.  I think he might have sliced it on chunk of ice in that snow bank, but he’s all right. He’s fine.”

 

Johnny sagged against the counter, his expression a mixture of relief and horror.  Relief at knowing Trevor was fine, and horror over the realization that he’d forgotten all about his son until I’d mentioned Trev’s name.  There was something else too.  Massive fatigue seemed to weigh down his thin frame.  I could see it in the way his shoulders and mouth drooped, and in the way his knuckles gripped the lip of the counter behind him.  It made me think of someone who’d played hours of tug-of-war with a bigger, stronger opponent.  Someone who’d been determined not to lose when the game started, but who little by little as the game progressed, was being beaten by his own struggles.  By the physical exertion he was too stubborn to quit expending, to instead seek a simpler solution, even if that solution was forgoing his pride and walking away.

 

Johnny sighed heavily, then straightened and looked me in the eye. 

 

“Tanks…tanks for take ‘are ‘im.  I--I…sh—sh--shou’ ‘one it.  My...my jo--jo--job.”

 

            “Yeah, normally it is your job to take care of him,” I agreed, because it was just beginning to dawn on me why I’d sensed tension from Johnny where Trevor and I were concerned. “But you needed a break this morning.  I didn’t mind taking care of him and getting him to school.”

 

            “I…I…’ave too.  I ‘ave ale too.”

 

            “You have to be able to take care of him?”

 

            “Ye--yes.”

 

            “You will be able to. Just give it time, Johnny.  Give yourself time.”

 

            “Ash…I…she ‘an’t ‘ake--take ‘im.”

 

            It took me a moment to figure out what he was saying.

 

            “Ashton?  You’re worried about her taking him from you?”

 

            He closed his eyes and nodded.

 

            “Has she said something about that?”

 

            He shook his head.

 

            “Then you don’t have anything to worry about it.”

 

            He opened his eyes again and looked at me.  “ ’ Ou…’ou don--don’ uner--uner’tand.”

 

            You don’t understand.

 

            Well, he was right.  I couldn’t fully understand what it was like to raise a child away from his mother, to be that child’s custodial parent, and yet have to worry that on a whim the mother could decide she wanted to fight for custody.  When the mother was a wealthy influential doctor with a lot of connections, as Ashton was, that would make the worry even greater.

 

            “You’re concerned she might try to get custody of Trevor because you’ve been ill?”

 

            Johnny nodded. “If…if…if I don’--don’ ge--ge--get better. If…if…she…if Ash…if she finds ‘ou-ou abou’ tractor.”

 

            “Well, you don’t have to worry about me telling her,” I lightly teased.  “And I’ll have a talk with Trevor. Make him understand that it’s important he doesn’t mention it to her either.”

 

            Johnny nodded again, but it was a half-hearted gesture.  I assumed he had concerns that if Ashton found out he’d insisted Trevor ride on the tractor, and then if other incidents like that happened that endangered Trevor’s life, she just might try and gain custody of the boy.  Those were valid concerns, yet I still thought Johnny was borrowing trouble.  From what I knew about Ashton’s involvement in Trevor’s life, it didn’t extend beyond his two-week visit with her each summer, and then the occasional e-mail or phone call during the remainder of the year.  If she really was worried about how her son was doing while his father was recovering from a disabling health threat, then she’d have shown up in Eagle Harbor long before I did and would have been helping out in any way she could.  Since she was notably absent from Johnny’s home, and had been since the day Trevor was born, I didn’t foresee her changing anything about the custodial arrangement regardless of what was going on. I had a feeling she’d assume Clarice and Carl would take care of what needed taking care of, and preferred not to be bothered with the details.

 

            Just as quickly as I had those thoughts, I wondered if I was being unfair.  After all, I’d never met Ashton and knew very little about her.  For some reason my curiosity got the best of me, which doesn’t often happen.  If something’s none of my business, then I’m content to leave it that way.   That day though, I wasn’t content to mind my own business.  Even I was surprised when I heard myself say, “You’ve never told me much about Ashton.  What’s she like?”

 

            The look Johnny gave me left me uncertain if he was mad because I was asking questions I shouldn’t be, or if he found my nosiness to be out of character.  Regardless of what his look meant, he finally tossed me a smile.

 

            “If…if…we talk…Ash--Ash--Ashton…better…we better si--si ‘own fir-first.”

 

            I laughed as I silently translated his words.

 

            If we’re going to talk about Ashton, we’d better sit down first.”

 

            “You mean this could be a long discussion?”

 

            He shrugged.  “Wif-wif Ash…who knows?”

 

            With Ashton, who knows?

 

            I expected Johnny to pull a chair out at the table.  When he headed for the great room, I was glad to see he’d made what I considered a better choice.  I didn’t think it would hurt him to sit by the fire and get comfortable in his easy chair again.  I was also looking forward to sitting by the fire in an easy chair.

 

            Johnny sat down and put the footrest up.  I did the same.  After the stressful morning I’d had, it felt good to sit and relax.  Johnny laid the blanket over his legs and picked at non-existent lint for several seconds.  Whether he was getting his thoughts together, or wondering how to back out of a trip down memory lane, I wasn’t sure.  I sat silently, waiting to see if he’d start talking, or if he was going to let the subject of Ashton end before it even began.

 

            He didn’t let it end, however, and when he finally did speak, I was surprised at where his story started.   It was a time and place we’d never talked about.  Denver, Colorado.  Where Johnny had gone when he’d left Los Angeles after Chris was shot, and after I’d made it clear our friendship no longer existed and never would again.

 

Chapter 32

 

It wasn’t until mid-December of 1985 that Johnny’s depression and loneliness eased somewhat. He was finally beginning to feel like a member of the Denver Fire Department, rather than an outsider just there to train for a few weeks.  Although his partnership with Greg was still in its infancy, Johnny now thought of the man as a friend, and got the impression Greg thought of him in the same way.  Johnny also felt like he had a place amongst his shift-mates.  Like he was an important part of a team that worked well together.  To an extent, the men who made up the B-shift of Station 28 reminded Johnny of his old shift-mates at Station 51. 

 

The guy the men called Dorf was the prankster of the group.  As he’d told Johnny, when you grow up with a name like Ansel Koppendorfer, you learn at a young age to deflect the humor from yourself and onto someone else.  Dorf wasn’t quite the master Chet Kelly had been when it came to practical jokes, but it wasn’t for lack of trying.  If nothing else, Dorf kept things lively around the station. He always gave Johnny a reason to laugh, since Dorf had too much respect for the paramedic seventeen years his senior to pull any stunts on him.  That wouldn’t have stopped Chet, but Johnny wasn’t foolish enough to tell Dorf that.  For a change, he was enjoying being the half of the paramedic team that got off unscathed where the practical jokes were concerned, while easy-going Greg took the brunt of them.

 

Just like Marco Lopez had often reined Chet in when one of the Irishman’s pranks threatened to get out of hand, a young firefighter named Kurt Waters did the same where Dorf was concerned.  Calm, steady under pressure, a bit on the quiet side like Mike Stoker, and dependable – that described Kurt.

 

Station 28’s engineer, Byron Talbert, was the first African American to hold that position within the Denver department.  Based on the man’s ambition, people skills, and intellect, Johnny knew it would be only a matter of time before Byron was Denver’s first black station captain, and then advanced to positions far beyond that. 

 

Johnny’s new team of co-workers was made complete by his captain, Lee Marshall. Captain Marshall was just a year older than Johnny, and his rise through the fire department was one familiar to the paramedic.  He’d started out as a firefighter/rescue man, became one of Denver’s first paramedics, then eventually advanced to captain.  The only difference between Johnny and Lee was that Johnny had bypassed the opportunity to become a station captain in favor of taking the paramedic instructor position L.A. County had offered him.  Still, as Lee told Johnny, being a chief paramedic instructor wasn’t so different from being a station captain in the sense that you were in charge of a diverse group of people, and always hoping that whatever decisions you made or whatever you taught them, somehow made a difference for the better and not for the worst.

 

When Lee said that, Johnny couldn’t help but think of Chris. He didn’t, however, reveal that any specific circumstance brought him to Denver other than the need to relocate.  He’d never explained to anyone what that need was, and for once luck was on Johnny’s side because no one bothered to ask. 

 

            Johnny and Lee would have probably grown to be good friends; maybe friends who were as close as he and Roy had been, if it wasn’t that Lee was Johnny’s captain.  That made for a line Johnny knew was best not crossed.  If Johnny decided to take the captain’s exam after some time spent with the department, then he and Lee would be peers in the organizational structure, and quite probably a friendship would develop. For the time being, though, Johnny didn’t allow that to happen, and neither did his captain.

 

            Because of that, the man at Station 28 Johnny began to grow closest too was Greg.  Johnny was four years older than his partner, but that made him closer in age to Greg than he was to thirty-year-old Byron, and a heck of a lot closer in age than he was to twenty-three-year-old Kurt and twenty-two-year-old Dorf.   Greg’s laid-back personality reminded Johnny of Roy, but that’s where the similarities ended.  Greg was more talkative and outgoing than Roy, and very unlike Roy, could be a bit scatterbrained on some days.  But Greg was the father of six kids between the ages of two and nine, so Johnny assumed that fact alone gave a man good reason to be a little unfocused until the day got underway and he was able to fully leave the concerns of home behind him.

 

            Another thing that lifted Johnny’s depression somewhat during that first December he spent in Colorado was the condominium he was buying.  Captain Marshall’s wife was a real estate agent. When the man overheard Johnny mention to Greg one day in November that he didn’t care for his apartment and wanted to find another place to live, he asked Johnny what he had in mind.

 

            “I don’t know, Cap,” Johnny shrugged.  “A house. A condo maybe.  I’d even be willing to consider another apartment if I could find one that’s newer than what I’m in and has more space.”

 

            Johnny didn’t bother to mention a small ranch when it came to his home ownership. For the time being, he’d given up on the idea of buying a few acres of land and having a couple of horses again.  Due to Denver’s shortage of skilled paramedics, he was working a lot of overtime. With no guarantee of having a neighbor like Bob Emery, whom Johnny could hire to do chores for him if he was on-duty longer than twenty-four hours, it was pointless to consider buying a place that required a lot of upkeep.

 

            “Don’t throw your money away on rent,” Lee advised.  “Be a property owner. It’s never a bad investment according to my wife.”

 

            “Your wife?”

 

            “She’s a real estate agent. You should give her a call if you’re serious about finding a new place.”

             

            “I’m serious.”

 

            “Okay.  Mind if I write her name and phone number down for you?”

 

            “Not at all. I’d appreciate it.”

 

            Lee took a pen and small spiral notebook from the pocket of his uniform shirt. He wrote down his wife’s name, the name of the real estate firm she worked for, and the phone number that would ring in her office.  As he tore the paper off and handed it to Johnny, he said, “I’ll see her in the morning for a few minutes after we get off-duty. She leaves for the office about eight-thirty.  Give me a chance to tell her you’re gonna give her a call, and then get in touch with her.”

 

            “I will,” Johnny promised, and at ten o’clock the next morning he picked up the phone and called Gail Marshall.  Which was how, by mid-December, Johnny was making plans to move to a new condo on January 20th.  He’d be one of the first people to occupy a home in the sprawling unit on the outskirts of Denver. The view from his deck – or what would soon be his deck – was awe-inspiring.  Snow capped mountains rose high overhead in the west, making Johnny anxious to spend time outdoors again hiking and camping.

 

            The condo had a spacious floor plan that combined the kitchen, dining room, and great room into one vast area unhindered by interior walls, and that was made even more magnificent by a twenty-foot high cathedral ceiling. The condo also contained two large bedrooms, two bathrooms, a small laundry room, and an attached garage. A garage was a new amenity to Johnny. He was looking forward to the convenience of walking directly into his home when he exited the Rover, and looking forward to not having to brush snow off of his vehicle before going to work in the morning, like he’d had to do four times since Thanksgiving.

 

By the end of January, Johnny planned to have the storage unit cleaned out he’d been renting and have everything in place in his condo – or at least stacked in the garage until he had time to unpack the boxes.  He’d be glad to get rid of the monthly storage bill, along with the monthly rent payment for the dreary apartment he had no desire to live in a day longer than necessary.  Even with the mortgage payment on his condo, he’d have a nice sum of money to put in the bank each time he got paid.  The sale of his ranch had left Johnny with the ability to put a sizeable down payment on the condo, making his mortgage payment far lower than he’d expected it would be.

 

            By the time I’m ready to retire when I’m fifty-five, the condo’s mortgage will be paid off. With my pension, and then a few years later my Social Security benefits, I should be able to live without any worries about money.

 

            Those might have been comforting thoughts if they didn’t seem so damn bleak and lonely to Johnny.  When he was younger, he hadn’t thought too much about retirement.  He’d assumed he’d marry again and eventually have kids to put through college. That fact alone made Johnny assume retirement for him might be a long way off. But as he’d approached his mid-thirties and concluded he’d spend the rest of his life a bachelor, he’d begun to think more seriously of retirement.  When he was living in California, having the DeSotos’ friendship made retirement seem like a positive thing.  Johnny had pictured long lazy days fishing with Roy, and going to ballgames with Roy and his sons, and making a standing date once a week to meet him at a restaurant for breakfast, and had pictured himself helping Roy and Joanne in any way he could as they aged, just as he’d known he could count on them to help him.  He’d also pictured a passel of DeSoto grandchildren looking upon him as “Uncle Johnny” in the same way Chris, Jennifer, and John had.  Not that he’d planned to intrude on Roy and Joanne’s retirement years, but yet, when you’re single and don’t live near your immediate family, it’s nice to know you have friends to do things with and depend on in times of need. 

 

            Aw, what the hell, Johnny would think when he’d realize how much had changed since he’d left Los Angeles, maybe I’ll just go right on working until I drop dead on the job.  I’ll be the oldest paramedic any fire department has ever had, and keel over of a heart attack when I’m limping to the squad on arthritic knees.  Might as well go on earning whatever money I can, even though I have no one to leave it to.  It’s not like I’m gonna have anything else to do with my time.

 

            Even Johnny was forced to laugh at his woebegone thoughts.  Roy would have shaken his head and told him to quit getting worked up over things that were years in the future, and then he’d say, “If you’re worried about who you should leave your money to, Junior, just put the name Roy DeSoto in your will.”

 

            God, it would be good to hear Roy toss a quip like that at him, but just as quickly as the thought came, Johnny remembered the day Chris was shot and how Roy told him to get the hell out of his sight.  Well, Johnny had done just that, and many times since arriving in Denver he’d sincerely hoped things were better for Roy because of it.

           

Chapter 33

 

            Christmas came that year with Johnny taking little notice of it.  He was too new to the department to have earned any vacation time, so flying to Montana for a few days like his father hoped he would was out of the question.  Instead, Johnny volunteered to work on Christmas Eve for any paramedic looking for time off to spend with his kids.  Because of that, Johnny was assigned to Station 16 for a twenty-four hour shift, and then reported to his own station on Christmas morning. B-shift was on-duty that day. After a quick shower in the locker room, Johnny joined the guys for breakfast in the station’s kitchen cooked by Lee Marshall, his wife, and their teenaged sons, Brett and Eric. Greg told Johnny the Marshalls started this tradition several years earlier.

 

            “If we have to work Christmas Eve, Cap and his wife make supper for us.  If we pull Christmas Day, then they make us breakfast.”

 

            “Nice of ‘em,” Johnny mumbled around a mouthful of pancakes and sausage.  In addition to those foods, the table was laden with platters of scrambled eggs, hash browns, bacon, toast, doughnuts, and fresh fruit.  As Johnny put some scrambled eggs and hash browns on his plate, he hoped they could enjoy this feast without getting summoned on a call in the middle of it.

 

            Johnny got his wish that day.  They were able to get through breakfast, and get the dishes washed and put away, without the tones going off.  Shortly after that, Gail left with Brett and Eric, headed to her mother’s for a family Christmas minus Lee.  Johnny knew this was by far not the first Christmas the man hadn’t been home, and could tell Gail and the boys were used to his absences.  In some ways, Gail reminded Johnny of Joanne.  A self-reliant woman capable of running things on the home front while her husband was on-duty.

 

            When Gail and her sons were gone, the men gathered around a Christmas tree in the day room that C-shift had put up the previous week.  Johnny and his co-workers had drawn names in early December, and now exchanged gifts.  Johnny admitted to himself that it was nice to have a tree at the station, and a few presents to open.  He hadn’t put a tree up in his apartment.  In part, because of lack of space, and in part, because he had no one to celebrate Christmas with, and was looking forward to the holiday season coming to an end.  The gifts that had arrived from Montana were stacked in one corner of the living room.  Due to his work schedule, Johnny hadn’t opened them yet.  Besides, the thought of opening presents by himself on either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day was a depressing one.  He’d decided he’d wait and open the gifts until a few days after Christmas.

 

            The day was quiet with few calls.  Johnny sat on the couch keeping his eyes on the succession of Christmas movies playing on television while the rest of the guys sat around the table eating cookies and talking about their holiday gatherings on Christmas Eve.  Aside from Lee and Greg being married men with children, Byron was married and the father of two toddlers.  Kurt was a newlywed, having gotten married just a few weeks before Johnny arrived at Station 28, and Dorf was engaged, though Byron was always quick to say that he couldn’t imagine what woman in her right mind would want to marry a “goofball like you, Dorf.”

 

            The family connections Johnny’s co-workers had in Denver meant their discussion was filled with talk of new toys, big meals, Christmas Eve church services, annoying mothers-in-law, nosey sisters-in-law, drunken brothers-in-law, and the amount of money it cost to make kids happy these days.  It was Byron who took note of how quiet Johnny was throughout the conversation. 

 

            “Hey, John, what’d you do yesterday?”

 

            “John” was the way Johnny’d introduced himself in Denver.  The nickname of “Johnny” was bestowed on him years ago at Station 8, when he was even younger than Dorf, and the baby of his shift where age was concerned.  In addition to that, three other men on his shift had the given name of John, so “Johnny” was the way the guys distinguished him from Big John Ferguson, J.T. Atwell, and Jack Michowski.  Johnny allowed the childish nickname to follow him to Station 51, and overall, it had never bothered him to be referred to as such.  But after arriving in Denver, shedding “Johnny” seemed like one more way to leave Los Angeles behind him, so he’d returned to going strictly by John, just as his family had always called him.

 

            Johnny answered Byron with, “Worked over at 16s.”

 

            “You put in for overtime?”

 

            “Yeah.”

 

            “How come?” Dorf asked. “Everybody wants one or the other off – either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.”

 

            “Not me.”

 

            “Why?”

 

            Johnny didn’t want anyone making a big deal over this, or feeling sorry for him, so he acted like his attention was solely on the old black and white version of Scrooge while shrugging. 

 

            “Couldn’t go home to be with my family since I just started the job a few months ago, so figured I’d might as well give some other guy the chance to be with his family.”

 

            “Where’s your family live?” Dorf asked.

 

            “Montana.”

 

            “Your parents, you mean?”

 

            “My dad, sister, and grandfather. My mom’s deceased.”

 

            “Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

 

            “Thanks.”

 

            “But if I’d have known you didn’t have anyone here in Denver, you coulda’ come to my parents’ place for dinner. We always have a buncha’ people there. One more wouldn’t have made a difference.”

 

            Johnny smiled slightly at Dorf’s generosity.  Again, much like Chet, the station prankster also had a big heart hidden beneath all those practical jokes and smart remarks.

 

            “Or you could have come to my house,” Greg said.  “It was noisy, but then with six kids, when isn’t it?”

 

            Johnny took advantage of the humor Greg’s remark brought everyone and quickly put an end to the subject.

 

            “Thanks for the offers, guys, but don’t worry about it. When I lived in L.A. I didn’t get to Montana very often for the holidays, either.  I’m used to covering for other guys so they can be with their kids. I enjoy it. Makes me feel like I’m doin’ my part to spread some Christmas cheer, ya’ know?”

 

            That answered seemed to appease everyone. If anything further was going to be said on the matter, the opportunity didn’t arise because the tones went off.  Johnny stood and ran for the squad, forcing himself not to remember all of the holidays he’d spent with the DeSotos, and forcing himself not to wonder if Roy and Joanne were somehow managing to have a good day on this first Christmas after their oldest son lost the use of his legs.

 

Chapter 34

           

            Given that he’d worked a forty-eight hour shift, Johnny slept most of the day on December 26th. The following day he did laundry, cleaned his apartment, and took a drive around Denver and its outlying areas.  These drives had become his habit when in need of a way to pass the time.  If nothing else, the jaunts helped familiarize Johnny with the city, and the towns surrounding it.

 

            As the end of the year approached, Johnny found himself counting down the days until he moved into his condo.  He wouldn’t even have to hire a moving van to take the things from his apartment and storage unit.  The guys Johnny worked with had volunteered to help him. Byron said he’d borrow a panel truck from his father-in-law’s plumbing business that would allow them to haul the large items like Johnny’s bed, dresser, and living room furniture. 

 

            It was shortly after one a.m. on the morning of January 1st, when Station 28 was summoned to the scene of a six-car accident.  Considering New Year’s Eve had officially ended at midnight, Johnny suspected alcohol was involved, and he was right.  But it wasn’t his job to pass judgment, or to arrest anyone, so while the engine crew doused gas tanks with water, Greg, Johnny, and paramedics from Stations 23 and 25 extracted victims from the twisted wreckage and gave them medical care.

 

            Johnny burst through the double doors of Central Hospital’s ER, running along side a gurney while holding an IV bag aloft with one hand, and keeping pressure on a chest wound that was bleeding out with the other.  Johnny was dimly aware of the controlled chaos around him.  It was always a bitch to be on-duty at a police station, fire station, or in a hospital’s emergency room, early on New Year’s Day. You could count on non-stop motor vehicle accidents from twelve-thirty in the morning until about four a.m.  Johnny passed other paramedics coming and going down the long corridor and knew the busy night had already started.

 

            A doctor instructed Johnny to keep pressure on the wound while a nurse took the IV bag from him and hung it on a pole.  Trauma rooms must have been in short supply, because another patient was wheeled in by one of the paramedics from 25’s.  As more nurses and doctors arrived the room grew crowded with people, gurneys, and equipment.  When the physician working on Johnny’s patient asked the paramedic to start another IV with Ringers, Johnny spun around for the supply cart without pausing.  At first, he thought he got his feet tangled with a nurse’s, but as he and the woman went to the floor in tangled heap, his brain registered her white coat and the black M.D. etched on her gold name tag.  Before he had a chance to read her name, he was helping her up with a quick but sincere, “Sorry about that.”  An incident that might have been funny and/or embarrassing at any other time was barely noticed by the room’s harried occupants.  Johnny saw a brief playful twinkle in the woman’s hazel eyes. It was then that he noticed when God passed out beauty he’d given her a triple dose of it.

 

            Just as quickly as he’d gazed upon that gorgeous face, the woman returned to her patient and Johnny hurried to the cart, this time avoiding tripping over anyone else. 

 

            Johnny helped the overtaxed staff in any way he could during the next twenty minutes.  As things wound down and portable X-ray machines began to arrive, Johnny asked if there was anything else he could do.  One of the doctors said, “Looks like we’ve got things under control. Thanks. You’ve been a big a help,” which the paramedic took as the polite dismissal it was.

 

            Johnny walked into the corridor as Greg stepped from the trauma room across the hall. The man pressed himself against the wall as another gurney flew by with a paramedic team behind it.  When the coast was clear, Greg crossed the hall and stood in front of Johnny.

 

            “It’s crazy around here tonight, huh?”

 

Johnny agreed. “You can say that again.”

 

“It’s crazy around here tonight, huh?”

 

Johnny laughed at his partner’s sense of humor.

 

Greg jerked a thumb in the direction opposite of the swinging doors that led to their squad.

 

“I’m gonna hit the bathroom before we leave.  On a night like this, we probably won’t make it to the station before getting toned out again.”

 

“Probably not. I’ll wait for you here.”

 

“Okay. Want me to bring you back a soda?”

 

“No thanks. And you’d better think twice about drinking one if we’re gonna be on runs all night.”

 

“Hey, as soon as I get it outta me, I gotta get it back in me, partner.”

 

“So I’ve noticed,” Johnny teased dryly about Greg’s addiction to Pepsi and the frequent bathroom breaks it caused him to need.

 

Johnny shook his head and smiled as his partner headed for the men’s room. Johnny arched his back, trying to work out the kinks that came from bending into vehicles in a dozen different positions the human body wasn’t meant to bend in. 

 

I don’t remember having problems with knotted muscles before.

 

As he crouched down to tighten a loose bootlace, Johnny reluctantly reminded himself that it had been several years since he’d worked in the field on a regular basis, and that he was now a lot closer to forty than he was to thirty.

 

The trauma room door flew open. Before Johnny could stand, he heard a startled shriek and felt someone tumble over his back.  He swiveled, throwing up his arms and managing to soften the woman’s fall before she hit the floor.  She landed on her rear end, and Johnny once again found himself eye to eye with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

 

“Geez, I’m sorry about that,” Johnny apologized. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

She accepted the hand he offered her, and didn’t protest when he used his other hand to lightly grip her right arm as he helped her to her feet.  She straightened her lab coat and swiped at the rear of it in an effort to dislodge any dust or dirt.  Johnny found that an amusing gesture considering blood was splattered on the front of the coat, but he didn’t comment on it.

 

“Seems like you and I are falling all over one another this evening, doesn’t it…” the woman paused and leaned forward slightly so she could read Johnny’s name tag, “Senior Paramedic Gage.”

 

“Seems that way…” Johnny mimicked the woman’s actions and took a moment to read her tag.  “Doctor Riley.”

 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before. Are you new?”

 

“New to the Denver Fire Department, yeah.”

 

“But not new to paramedic work based on the “senior” part of your title, I take it?”

 

“You take it right. Sorry about the way I keep tripping you.”

 

“A bit on the clumsy side, huh, Senior Paramedic Gage?”

 

The first thought that came to Johnny’s mind in response was, Only where beautiful women are concerned, but he thanked God it didn’t come out of his mouth. Had he been twenty-five, he’d have been dumb enough to say it, and with a cheesy grin thrown in to boot.  But he wasn’t twenty-five any longer, and with age had come at least a little bit of wisdom where women were concerned.

 

“Uh...well, not usually, but it seems to be a problem for me tonight.”

 

Those hazel eyes twinkled again.  “Seems to be.”  

 

A summons over the loud speaker put a halt to the conversation.

 

“Doctor Riley. Paging Doctor Riley. Please report to the ER nurses’ station.  Doctor Riley, please report to the nurses’ station.”

 

“I have to go.  It was nice meeting you.”

 

“Yeah, nice meeting you too.”  As the woman started to turn away, Johnny didn’t know what asinine impulse made him say, “Hey, since I keep knocking you down, the least I could do is buy you dinner sometime.”

 

The woman’s eyes seemed to appraise him with a mixture of amusement and disbelief – as though she couldn’t imagine a fireman had the audacity to ask her for a date.  But then, Johnny couldn’t believe he’d had the audacity to ask her for a date either.  He hadn’t encountered very many female physicians in his career, but even so, for a paramedic to ask a doctor out…well, it just wasn’t done.  Nurses were fair game, as were lab techs, X-ray techs, and physical therapists, but doctors were off-limits to a guy whose salary and lifestyle couldn’t come close to matching that of most physicians.  Therefore, Johnny was shocked at her response.

 

“You know what, you’re right, Senior Paramedic Gage. The least you could do is buy me dinner.  When are you free?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“For dinner.  When are you free for that dinner you’re going to buy me?”

 

Johnny suddenly felt as tongue tied and unsure of himself as a fifteen-year-old asking a popular cheerleader to the prom.

 

“Well…uh…tomorrow night. How about tomorrow night?”

 

“Tomorrow night it is.”

 

The doctor named a restaurant and asked Johnny if he knew where it was.  He didn’t, but lied and said he did.  He could find out easily enough by calling the place and asking for directions.

 

“Is seven all right?” The physician asked. “I’ll meet you there a few minutes early.”

 

“Sure,” Johnny agreed, somewhat put off by this take-charge woman, yet already too enamored with her to acknowledge all the reasons why this was a mistake on both of their parts.  “See you then.”

 

“A few minutes before seven,” she emphasized, and Johnny easily picked up on the fact that Doctor Riley didn’t like to be kept waiting.

 

“Got it.”  He held up his left wrist and tapped the face of his watch to let her know two could play at this game, and that he wasn’t going to be bossed around by a woman. “I’ve got a watch, and I can tell time pretty good on most days too.”

 

The doctor laughed. “Touche¢.  Guess I deserved that.”

 

Johnny couldn’t keep his smile at bay.  “I guess you did.”

 

The woman gave a slight tip of her head in Johnny’s direction, as though admitting defeat in this round.  “Until tomorrow night.”

 

“Until then.”

 

She got a few feet down the corridor, then stopped and turned around.  “I forgot to ask you your first name.  If I want to gossip with my girlfriends about the tall, dark, and handsome man I kept falling over tonight, it’s going to sound pretty odd if I keep referring to you as Senior Paramedic Gage.”

 

Johnny laughed again while briefly realizing he hadn’t been this happy in a long time. That was kind of stupid considering he’d just met this woman, but it further emphasized to him how captivating he found her.

 

“John.  My name’s John.”

 

“John.  I like it.  It’s strong and manly, like you.”

 

Johnny was still standing there blushing while trying to figure out if she was serious, or nuts, or on the brink of exhaustion from a long shift and didn’t know what she was saying, or teasing him.  When she laughed and said, “You look like you want to hide under a chair,” he knew he was being teased.

 

“Well, if you don’t see me tomorrow night at the restaurant, you might wanna start lifting chairs when you look for me.”

 

She laughed again, said, “See you tomorrow night,” and hurried off down the hall.  She’d already disappeared around a corner when Johnny remembered he hadn’t asked the woman her first name.  The door swung open behind him, the physician he’d been working with stepping out.

 

“Hey, John, you’re still here?”

 

“Yeah. Waitin’ for Greg, then we’re headed out.”

 

“I suppose I’ll see you guys more than I want to tonight.”

 

“Yeah, suppose so.”  Johnny stopped the gray-headed man before he could walk away. “Doctor Biller?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“The woman who was in there before – Doctor Riley?”

 

“What about her?”

 

“Can you tell me her first name?”

 

“Ashton.”

 

“Ashton?” Johnny repeated the unusual sounding name.

 

“Yes. Why? Do you know her?”

 

“Uh…yeah.  Yeah, I think I do,” Johnny said, because that was the safest answer to give considering he wasn’t sure how it would go over if Ashton’s colleagues found out she had a date with a paramedic.  Not that Johnny cared, or that he thought it was any of their business, but since he didn’t know how Ashton would feel about it, and since their dinner date would quite probably be a one-time only occurrence, Johnny decided there was no need to make it common knowledge.

 

“She’s not an easy woman to forget,” Doctor Biller said in response.  “She’s a first year resident.  She’ll make a hell of a cardiologist some day.”

 

Johnny nodded, as though he knew all of these things about the woman he’d only met moments earlier. 

 

“Talk to you later, John.”

 

“Yeah, Doc, talk to you later,” Johnny mumbled as the man stepped into the trauma room across the hall.

 

Ashton.  I like it.  It’s different, like her.  Different, yet beautiful.

 

Johnny laughed at himself. 

 

Geez, Gage, you act like you’ve never seen a good- looking woman before.  If she’s a first year resident, then you’re old enough to be her much older big brother.  You don’t stand a chance at this lasting beyond one date, so enjoy it, and then move on to someone more in your own league.

 

Johnny pushed his thoughts aside when he saw Greg approaching.

 

“Ready to go?”

 

“You bet.”

 

They’d barely taken two steps toward the exit before the tones sounded over the handie talkie Greg carried.  They listened to the summons, then ran for the squad.  Like Johnny had known it would be, the night was a hectic one.  It was five that morning before he and Greg climbed into their bunks at the station.  Johnny lay awake longer than he thought he would considering his exhaustion.  When he did finally fall asleep, it was with the unusual name of Ashton running through his mind.

 

Chapter 35

 

Johnny glanced at his watch once again.  It was now twelve minutes after seven. He strained to see through the glass panel of the oak door.  Because the glass was milky white with silver roses etched in it, he couldn’t get a clear view of the parking lot.  Not for the first time in the past few minutes, Johnny wondered if he’d been stood up.

 

It probably sunk in that she’d made a date with a paramedic, and she ran for the hills as fast as she could.  Next time I see her at the hospital she’ll tell me she had to work late, or fell asleep after a busy shift and didn’t hear the alarm go off, or had to leave town at the last minute because of some family emergency.

 

Given Ashton’s emphasis of being on time, Johnny’d arrived ten minutes early for their dinner date. Since the Silver Rose’s parking lot was crowded and he didn’t know what type of vehicle Ashton drove any more than she knew what he drove, Johnny decided the best thing to do was wait for her in the building.  He’d kept an eye out for her as he walked to the door.  When he didn’t spot her by the time he reached it, he turned the gold knob and stepped into a marble foyer large enough to host a wedding reception.

 

Johnny’s eyes had traveled to the ceiling thirty feet above his head. Like the floor, it was creamy marble with fine strands of gold running through it.  A fountain stood in the middle of the foyer, gently spouting water into its fluted marble basin.  The paramedic wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but admittedly, this wasn’t it. Though he barely knew Ashton, something had told him she wasn’t a chilidog and French fries kind of woman, yet he also hadn’t imagined he’d find himself at a restaurant that seemed so out of place here in Denver. Rustic looking steakhouses populated the city, and would have been much more to Johnny’s liking than the Silver Rose. He tried to keep an open mind, however, while resisting the urge to grab a menu from the Maitre d’ and look at the prices.

 

I just hope it’s not in French. If everything’s in French, I’m screwed.  Of course, if she doesn’t show up it won’t make any difference what language the menu’s written in.  I sure as hell won’t be stickin’ around to eat in this joint.

 

Johnny nervously tugged on the cuffs of his coat while he waited; glad he’d worn a suit and tie.  Again, he couldn’t say what told him this two-piece suit was the right thing to wear when he was getting dressed.  There was just something about Ashton – an air of class and style she exuded, even in a white lab coat covered with blood – that had given Johnny the impression this wasn’t going to be a blue jeans and flannel shirt kind of dinner.  

 

As couples alone, or in groups of twos and threes, entered the restaurant and approached the Maitre d’s podium, Johnny hoped Ashton had made reservations, because he sure hadn’t.  He shifted from foot to foot, flexing his toes inside his black dress shoes.  He hadn’t felt this uncomfortable and unsure of himself on a date since…well, since he couldn’t remember when. And the ironic thing about that was, his date hadn’t even arrived yet, and now that it was seven-twenty Johnny was about to give up hope that she would.

 

I’m sure glad I was smart enough not to mention this to any of the guys.  Not even Greg.  I’ve been had for a royal fool.  I don’t need anyone reminding me of what a dumb ass I was to think a doctor would really wanna go out with a paramedic.

 

After the Maitre d’ had returned from seating the latest customers, he eyed Johnny for the fourth time in the past fifteen minutes. He looked down his long nose at the man and asked in a haughty tone, “Sir, is there anything I can do for you?  Anyone I can call?”

 

Johnny got the feeling the man thought of him as riff raff who was taking up space he had no right to occupy.  He had no idea why, really.  He was dressed just as sharply as the other men he’d seen enter.  Maybe his suit wasn’t as expensive as some, and maybe he didn’t have a silk handkerchief in the breast pocket like some men had, and he wasn’t wearing gold cuff links like some had been, but still, his clothes were clean, pressed, and just as conservative as what he’d seen the other male patrons wearing  – black slacks and coat, white starched shirt, and then a patterned tie in shades of maroon, royal blue, and gray  – splashes of color, yes, but nothing obnoxious or out of place.

 

“No thanks.  I’ll wait a few more minutes. Maybe she had car trouble.”

 

“Perhaps she did,” the Maitre d’ said with a slight smirk that broadcast the word “sucker” as clearly as if he’d spoken it.

 

            Softly, yet with just enough volume so the Maitre d’ could overhear, Johnny mimicked the man, haughty tone and all.

 

            “Perhaps she did.”

 

The man glared at Johnny.  Just as quickly as it came, the glare was replaced with a broad smile when the door opened and a woman seemed to float through it.  A mink stole was wrapped around her shoulders. She was clutching a petite red beaded purse against the knee-length red dress that no woman carrying even just three extra pounds would have left the house wearing.  It was a dress made for a figure with no flaws, and as far as Johnny was concerned, this woman’s figure didn’t possess a single one.

 

The Maitre d’ greeted the woman with an exuberance Johnny had heard him use with other guests, as opposed to the high and mighty arrogance he’d enjoyed tossing at the paramedic. 

 

“Doctor Riley.  How nice--”

 

Johnny imitated the man’s earlier smirk as he interrupted him.

 

“I see my date’s arrived,” then smiled as he stepped forward to greet Ashton.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hi, John.”  Ashton reached for his right hand and gave it a slight squeeze in both greeting and apology. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was tied up at the hospital.  I apologize for not getting in touch with you.  By the time I realized I didn’t know your phone number it would have delayed me even further to try and track it down.”

 

“Don’t worry about it.”  Johnny gave her hand a return squeeze before releasing it. “I’m just glad you were able to get here.”

 

“I am too.”

 

Her, “I am too,” sounded warm and sincere to Johnny.  If she’d regretted making this date and her tardiness was really due to second thoughts, she was doing a good job of hiding it.

 

 Ashton approached the Maitre d’ with Johnny at her shoulder. 

 

The man nodded politely. “Good evening, Doctor Riley.  I didn’t realize the gentleman was waiting for you.”  The Maitre’ d’s eyes locked on Johnny, though he continued to talk to Ashton. “I’m accustomed to seeing you dine with Doctor Bishop.”

 

Ashton flinched slightly at the name “Doctor Bishop,” causing Johnny to assume she didn’t appreciate the Maitre d’ divulging the name of her usual dinner date.  Johnny could tell the man was enjoying himself.  As though for whatever reason, he’d decided Doctor Bishop complemented the Silver Rose’s atmosphere in a way Johnny didn’t.

 

Ashton overlooked the man’s bad manners. 

 

“This is John Gage, Malcolm.  John, this is Malcolm. He always makes sure I get the best table in the house whenever I make a reservation.”

 

“Nothing is too good for you, Doctor.” 

 

Johnny had already taken a dislike to this scrawny weasel with the receding hairline.  His dislike grew at the way Malcolm now treated him like an old friend.

 

“Doctor Gage.  It’s nice to meet you.  I’m--”

 

“Mr.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“It’s Mr. Gage,” Johnny corrected without shame.  “Not doctor.”

 

“Oh.  Well.  I see.”  Malcolm offered Johnny a weak smile of apology that the paramedic knew wasn’t meant to be an apology at all, but had only been extended because Ashton was present.  Johnny also suspected that Malcolm hadn’t made an innocent assumption or slip-up when referring to him as “Doctor Gage,” but instead had done it on purpose in an effort to either humiliate Johnny, or let him know he wasn’t good enough for Ashton Riley. 

 

            “Mr. Gage,” the Maitre d’ corrected with false politeness. “I’m pleased you’ll be dining with us tonight.”

 

Johnny refrained from saying what was on his mind.

 

You weren’t pleased about it five minutes ago, ya’ asshole.

 

Instead, he gave the man a tight smile. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to it.”

 

Malcolm picked up two leather bound menus and stepped from behind his podium.

 

“Right this way, please, Doctor.  Mr. Gage.”

 

They were led to a table for two in an out-of-the-way corner near a set of French doors that opened onto a patio. Johnny assumed that during summer months the patio was also used for dining.

 

The Maitre d’ set the menus on the table, then gingerly took Ashton’s mink from her shoulders. 

 

“I’ll put this in safekeeping for you, Doctor.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Johnny wasn’t sure what safekeeping was, but he surmised it wasn’t an ordinary coat closet considering the stole had to be worth at least three thousand bucks.

 

This woman is way outta my league.  Oh well, Gage, enjoy tonight and chalk it up to experience.  Now you know why paramedics don’t date doctors.

 

It did run through Johnny’s mind as he pulled out Ashton’s chair that her mink was a luxury far out of the ordinary for a resident.  Most young doctors in her position were repaying student loans.  In addition to that, Johnny knew the annual salary of a first year resident was comparable to his as a veteran firefighter.  Ashton’s salary would far exceed his in a just a few years time, but until she had completed her three years of cardiology residency and was board certified, her income wouldn’t differentiate much from Johnny’s.

 

The paramedic gave a mental shrug as he sat down next to the woman.  There could be a couple of reasonable explanations for her mink. It might have been inherited from a relative – a grandmother or great aunt. Or the more likely scenario on Johnny’s mind, it might have been a gift from a past boyfriend.  Maybe the infamous Doctor Bishop the Maitre d’ had mentioned.

 

Visions of a wealthy doctor dining with Ashton right at this very table danced through Johnny’s head.

 

Whoever the guy was, he makes a heckuva lot more money than I do.

 

Johnny broke the uncomfortable “first date”’ silence they’d settled into by saying, “Malcolm seems to know you pretty well.”

 

“Did he give you a hard time because I was late?”

 

“He didn’t seem to like me hangin’ around, let’s put it that way, but me and ol’ Malcolm came to an understanding that I wasn’t leaving until I was darn good and ready to.”

 

Ashton chuckled.  “So, John Gage, you’re full of “piss and vinegar” as my Grandmother Riley would say, is that it?”

 

Johnny arched an eyebrow at hearing the word piss come out of such a classy woman, but it went a long way in making him more comfortable with her.

 

“Some people would agree with you on that. Or at least they’d say I’m stubborn. Myself, I like to say I don’t give in if I don’t see any reason why I should.”

 

“And just who are these people who’d tell me you’re stubborn?”

 

“Ro…” Johnny stopped himself as a list of names ran through his head. 

 

Roy. Dixie. Joanne. Hank Stanley.

 

“No one in particular,” Johnny answered the woman.  “Just people who’ve known me a long time.”

 

Ashton accepted Johnny’s answer and changed the subject.

 

“I apologize for Malcolm. I should have warned you ahead of time.”

 

“Warned me about what?  That Malcolm’s a jerk?”

 

Ashton laughed at the man’s forthrightness. “No.  That the restaurant is…let’s say exclusive as far as its clientele goes.”

 

“You mean snobby.”

 

For a few seconds, Johnny thought he’d said the wrong thing.  She’d been so easy to talk to that he’d dropped his guard without thinking about it. Now there was a pause as she rested her chin in one hand and studied him as though wondering what she’d gotten herself into.  As though trying to figure out how to end this date before it really began.

 

Oh what the hell, I’m thirty-nine years old.  Too old to play games by trying to impress a woman. If she doesn’t like me just the way I am, then that’s life. 

 

Ashton seemed to like Johnny just the was he was, because finally her eyes lit up and she laughed again.

 

“Okay, snobby.  Yes.  It’s snobby as far as its clientele goes.”

 

“Is Malcolm a personal friend of yours or something?”

 

“No. Why do you ask?”

 

“He just seems to be awfully interested in who you show up here with.  And he didn’t seem to be too thrilled that “who” was me.”

 

Ashton dropped her eyes while running a manicured nail glistening with red polish over the rim of her crystal water glass.  Silence lingered so long that once again Johnny was sure he’d said the wrong thing.

 

“Uh…I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to say something I shouldn’t have.  I kinda have this bad habit of putting my foot in my mouth.”

 

A slight smile played on the woman’s lips as she looked at her date. 

 

“No. What you have, Senior Paramedic Gage, is a bad habit of tripping busy doctors.”

 

            Now it was Johnny’s turn to laugh. He was beginning to learn how much he appreciated a beautiful woman with a sense of humor.

 

            Ashton opened her menu.  Johnny copied her movements, subtly eyeing her in-between scanning the list of meals.  She didn’t take her attention away from the menu when she spoke.

 

            “Andrew Bishop the Third is a well-known physician here in Denver, as is his father, Andrew Junior.  Drew’s grandfather owned some sort of manufacturing firm that had been started by his grandfather, who also played a big part in Colorado achieving statehood. The Bishop family is considered “old money” in Colorado.  Drew and I…we…I recently put an end to our engagement.”

 

            Johnny wasn’t sure what the appropriate response was to this type of announcement.  Since Ashton’s pain was still fresh and easily detected, he ventured a guess and said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

            Ashton shrugged while scooping a lock of shiny hair behind one ear. “Don’t be sorry.  I caught him in bed with a nurse.”

 

            “Oh.”

 

            Ashton’s eyes finally met his.  “Yes, I know.  It’s a well-known cliché in the medical profession, but nonetheless, one that proved real for me.  All too real when I saw them in all their naked splendor rolling around on top of the bed like a couple of mutts in heat.”

 

            “I can see why that made you dump Doctor Bishop the Third, no matter how much Malcolm likes him.”

 

            Ashton laughed in spite of her pain.  “You’re a funny guy, John Gage.”

 

            “Is that a good thing?”

 

            “After Drew Bishop, yes.  It’s a very good thing.”

           

            Conversation between the couple drew to a halt when a waiter arrived to take their order.  Johnny had been relieved to see the menu wasn’t in French.  He ordered a New York strip steak and baked potato, and Ashton ordered the sautéed white fish with steamed vegetables.  They each ordered a glass of red wine.  The tuxedo clad waiter bowed slightly at the waist after taking their order, and promised to return in a few minutes with their first course of salad and fresh baked bread.

 

            It wouldn’t be until later, when he looked back on the evening, that Johnny realized he and Ashton sat on the edges of their chairs through most of the date. As though they were eager to hear what one another had to say and didn’t want to miss a single word.  Johnny couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this animated with a woman.  This excited to be on a date.  He’d been seeing a woman in L.A. before Chris was shot, but like most of his relationships since Kim’s death, it didn’t have much substance to it.  That fact alone had made it easy for Johnny to break up with the woman when concerns for Chris, and upset over what had happened to his friendship with Roy, dominated Johnny’s mind and made it impossible for him to be emotionally connected to a woman he didn’t love.

 

The sound of Ashton’s voice interrupted Johnny’s thoughts.

 

            “So, Senior Paramedic Gage, what brings you to the Denver Fire Department?”

 

            “About one thousand and fifty miles of roads between here and Los Angeles.”

 

            “You’re from L.A.?”

 

            “If by “from” you’re asking where I was born and raised, that would be a little town in Montana called White Rock.  But yeah, I came to Denver from L.A. in September.”

 

            “Oh, a recent transplant.”

 

            “Yeah. So recent that I’m still learning my way around the city.”

 

            “What brings you here? Since your title is senior paramedic, I assume you worked for a fire department in Los Angeles?”

 

            Johnny nodded as he took a sip of his water.  “For L.A. County. Was with them seventeen years.”

 

            “A long time then.  Why’d you leave?” An impish grin spread over Ashton’s face.  “You’re wife didn’t catch you in bed with a nurse, did she?”

 

            Considering Ashton’s history with Andrew Bishop, Johnny figured it was best if he didn’t tell Ashton he’d slept with a few nurses in his day.

 

            “Nope.  No wife.”

 

            “You’re not gay, are you?”

            A remark that would have offended a lot of other men, made Johnny laugh.  And then laugh harder when Ashton blushed.

 

            “Sorry.  Like you, I have a bad habit of putting my foot in mouth.”

 

            “No, Doctor Riley, what you have is a bad habit of tripping over busy paramedics.”

 

            They both laughed now. When their laughter subsided, Johnny assured, “No, I’m not gay.  I was married once.  My wife…my wife and daughter were killed.”

 

            Ashton sobered.  “John…I’m so sorry.”

 

            Johnny swallowed hard. Even after all the years that had passed, it was still hard to talk about Kim and Jessie. 

 

            “Thanks, but you don’t need to be. It happened a long time ago. Almost nineteen years.”

 

            “It doesn’t matter how long ago it happened. I can still extend my sympathy, can’t I?”

 

            “I guess you can if you want to.”

 

            “I do.”

 

            “Thanks,” Johnny said again.  He was relieved when Ashton didn’t press him for details regarding Kim and Jessie’s deaths.  She must have been curious, since the verb killed implied something far more tragic than an illness, or death for a mother and infant during childbirth, yet she refrained from asking. Maybe she saw the same pain reflected in his eyes at the mention of their names, as he’d seen in hers when she was telling him about Andrew Bishop.

 

            “So, like I asked earlier,” Ashton said as she smoothly changed the subject, “what brings you to Denver from L.A.?  And if you tell me one thousand and fifty miles of roads, I swear I’ll slug you.”

 

            Johnny chuckled, then answered with a vague, “The Denver department offered me a good opportunity.  Since I didn’t have any strong ties in L.A., I decided to make the move.”

 

            Ashton looked like she didn’t completely believe Johnny. As though she couldn’t imagine that he’d lived and worked in Los Angeles for seventeen years without forming strong ties to both his job and to people he worked with.  Fortunately, their wine, salads, and bread arrived at that moment, leaving the questions Johnny saw in Ashton’s eyes unspoken.

 

            Dinner progressed without a hitch as far as Johnny was concerned.  As a matter of fact, it seemed to go by too quickly. The nervousness he’d felt while waiting for Ashton to arrive was gone now.  He no longer felt like he was out of his league, but instead, grew more self-assured and confident as they talked and talked and talked some more.  She was a just a woman. She wasn’t a god of some sort just because she was a doctor, along with being so damn gorgeous Johnny could barely stand to take his eyes off of her.  She was a woman with dreams, and goals, and hopes, and disappointments, and heartaches. Most of all, Johnny saw that she was comfortable with who she was.  She wasn’t trying to impress him.  She wasn’t playing the part of some wide-eyed innocent damsel.  She wasn’t playing stupid just to make him feel smart.  Bottom line was, she didn’t play games with the male ego like so many other women Johnny had dated seemed to do in an effort to catch a husband.

 

            They learned a lot about one another that night – the little things that made each of them who they were.   They talked for a few minutes about their families.  It was then that Johnny discovered Ashton was an only child and had grown up on Long Island, the daughter of an esteemed cardiac surgeon who practiced in New York City, and whose footsteps she was following in.  Her mother, in Ashton’s words, “has always been completely devoted to my father, to me, and to her home.” He learned the source of her unusual first name. It was her mother’s maiden name. And then when they revealed their birthdates, Johnny found out Ashton was a little more than nine younger than he was. She seemed enamored with the fact that he was an “older man” and teased, “That’s the way I like my guys.”

 

            “Old?” Johnny asked with a grin.

 

            “No old,” she corrected.  “Older.  I’ve always liked my men on the mature side.”

 

            “That musta’ caused your folks some worry when you were eight and giving twenty-year-old guys the eye.”

 

            Ashton laughed.  “When I was eight, I was giving Bobby Sanders the eye.  He was eight too.  My preference for older men didn’t come until I was in college.”

 

            “So am I the oldest guy you’ve ever been out with?”

 

            “No. I dated a professor once my father’s age.”

 

            “Really?”

 

            “Really.  It didn’t last long, though. Kind of a silly schoolgirl crush, I’d guess you’d call it.  Drew…he’s a little older than you.  Not by much though.  A couple of years.”

 

            “Good.”

 

            “Why good?”

 

            “Because that way I won’t remind you of him.”

 

            “Believe me, John, in no way do you remind me of Drew.”

 

            “And that’s still a good thing?”

 

            Johnny felt a little rush of excitement course through his body when she reached out and lightly touched his hand. “Yes. It’s still a good thing.”

 

            They shared a piece of three-layered chocolate cheesecake for dessert. As their utensils alternated forking off a slice and occasionally tangled tines with one another, it crossed Johnny’s mind what an intimate act sharing dessert could be.  It certainly wasn’t something he’d expected to find himself doing with Ashton on this date, or on any date for that matter, because he hadn’t imagined he’d be seeing her again after tonight.  Now though, he was contemplating just how to ask her if she wanted to go out with him again.

 

            For a guy who once thought a “nice” date didn’t have to cost him more than eight dollars and forty-two cents, Johnny didn’t even blink when the waiter handed him a leather bound case with the bill enclosed.  The total came to ninety dollars, and Ashton was worth every penny of it as far as Johnny was concerned.  By the time he included the tip, the evening had cost him one hundred and ten bucks, but even then, Johnny had no regrets.

 

            As Johnny helped Ashton scoot her chair from the table, Malcolm appeared seemingly from nowhere with her mink.  Johnny took it from him before the man could lay it across Ashton’s shoulders.

 

            “I’ll do that.”

 

            He wrapped the stole around his date in a possessive sort of way that was meant to tell Malcolm, “Back off, pal.”

 

            As the couple turned to leave the dinning room, Malcolm said through clenched teeth, “Good evening, Doctor Riley.  Mr. Gage.  I hope we’ll see you both again.”

 

            Johnny winked and gave the Maitre d’ a little salute of two fingers to his forehead.  “I’m sure you will, Malcolm.”

 

            When they reached the foyer, Ashton paused and looked up at her date.  “You enjoyed that way too much, didn’t you?”

 

            “What?  Annoying the crap outta Malcolm?”

 

            “Yes.”

 

            “You bet.”

 

            Once again, Johnny was rewarded with the laugh he was rapidly falling in love with. As they stepped outside he asked, “Where’s your car?”

 

            Ashton indicated to an area of the parking lot opposite of where the Land Rover was parked.  “Over there.”

           

            “I’ll walk you to it.”

 

            “Among your other attributes, you’re gallant too.”

 

            “I don’t know about that,” Johnny said as he risked resting a light hand between her shoulder blades.  “I just don’t think a woman should be walking across a parking lot after dark by herself.”

 

            “Would you think that if I told you I’m a black belt in karate’?”

 

            “Are you?”

 

            “I am.”

 

            “For some reason, that doesn’t surprise me.  But black belt or no black belt, I still wouldn’t want you walkin’ out here after dark by yourself.”

 

            She briefly rested her head against Johnny’s shoulder, as though that was the sweetest thing any man had ever said to her.  When they arrived at a new model Mercedes Sedan, Ashton paused.

 

            “This is my car.”

 

            Johnny resisted the urge to whistle at the gleaming black vehicle.  Ashton must have seen the admiration for it in his eyes, however, and maybe even the question as to how she could afford it.

 

            “It was a gift from my parents when I graduated medical school.”

 

            “Generous parents.”

 

            “Wonderful parents,” Ashton said.

 

            “And the mink?” Johnny ventured, hoping like heck she wasn’t going to tell him Andrew Bishop had given it to her.  When she’d first arrived at the restaurant wearing it, it wouldn’t have mattered to Johnny if the mink had been a gift from Bishop.  But now for some reason it did matter.  It mattered very much.

 

            “A gift from my parents, too.  For my twenty-first birthday.”

 

            “Very nice.”

 

            “My parents or the mink?”

 

            Johnny figured he couldn’t go wrong when he said, “Both.”

 

            He waited while Ashton unlocked the car.  She held her key ring in her right hand and turned back to face him. 

 

            “I had a very nice time tonight, John. Thank you.”

 

            “I had a nice time too.”

 

            “Well…I guess I’ll see you around the hospital.”

 

            “I guess so. Unless…uh…unless you’d like to go out with me again.”

 

            She eyed him again in that way that made him feel like she was sizing him up.  It wouldn’t be until months later that he’d find out she thought he was so handsome it was difficult for her not to openly admire his features. That he was half Native American attracted her to him even more for reasons he never quite understood.  Maybe that simply made him different from the WASPs she was used to dating. Or maybe she really did like her men “tall, dark, and handsome,” as she’d come to say to Johnny on a regular basis after their romance blossomed.

 

            Just when Johnny was sure she was going to turn him down, she said, “I’d love to go out with you again.”

 

            Johnny couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.  “You would?”

 

            “Definitely.  Just name the time and place.”

 

            Johnny mentally cast about for an idea.  He couldn’t afford dinner at the Silver Rose again for a while, and until he moved to his condo, he didn’t want to suggest dinner at his place.  His apartment didn’t seem worthy of a woman like Ashton Riley, so he preferred she never see the inside of it.

 

            “How about a movie?  Would you like to see a movie?”

 

            “Sure. That’s sounds great.  It’s been a long time since I’ve done something that doesn’t involve dressing to the nines like I am tonight.”

 

            “Then all the more reason to go someplace where blue jeans and t-shirts are welcome. We can get something to eat afterwards if you want.” With uncertainty, Johnny ventured, “Maybe pizza?”  

 

            “Pizza sounds wonderful.”

 

            “It does?”

 

            “I love pizza.”

 

            Thank God.  ‘Cause if all you liked was ninety dollar dinners I’d be living on the street by the end of the month.

 

            “Good. So do I.”

 

            It took them a few seconds to coordinate their schedules and determine when they were each off-duty on the same day.  They finally settled on an afternoon date for the following Thursday.  Ashton opened her purse, pulled out a small note pad and pen, and wrote down her phone number.

 

            “Call me before then and I’ll give you directions to my apartment.  Or I can meet you at the theatre if you’d rather.”

 

            “No, no.  I’ll pick you up.” Johnny folded the paper and put it in a pocket of his suit coat.  “Thanks.”

 

            “You’re welcome. Thank you for asking me out again.”

 

            Johnny knew his smile made him look giddy, foolish, and love struck, but he didn’t care.  “Thank you for saying yes.”

 

            Johnny held the car door open for the woman.  Right before she slid into the front seat, she kissed his cheek and said softly, “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

 

            Johnny couldn’t manage to say anything in response before her lips left his face and she was in her car.

 

            “Be careful driving home,” he cautioned.  When he heard her promise of, “I will,” he shut the door. 

 

            Johnny waited until she’d locked the doors, put her seatbelt on, started the car, and backed out of the parking space before heading for his Land Rover.  He gave her a wave when she tooted her horn in a final form of goodbye.  He didn’t even notice the frigid January temperature as he strolled to his vehicle. He sat lost in thought in the Land Rover for five minutes before it finally dawned on him to start the vehicle and let it warm up. 

 

Johnny shook his head and laughed. “God, Gage, but you’ve got it bad, don’t you.  You’ve got it soooo bad.”

 

Two hours after his dated ended, the paramedic climbed into bed.  It was the first night since arriving in Denver that Johnny didn’t think of everyone he’d left behind in Los Angeles while waiting for sleep to claim him. It was the first night since arriving in Denver that he’d been truly happy.  It was the first night since arriving in Denver that Johnny felt he might have a future here. And as he drifted toward unawareness, he was surprised to find himself smiling at that thought.

 

 

Part 6