Читать книгу Too Near The Fire - Lindsay McKenna - Страница 7

One

The sunlight was brilliant, making Leah squint as she walked out of the shade and around the corner of the two-story redbrick firehouse. The weather was typical of mid-June in Ohio: the humidity matched the high temperature. Her shoulder-length hair was drawn back severely from her oval face. Leah had learned from experience to knot her dark, walnut-colored hair into a chignon at the nape of her neck to keep it from interfering with her fire fighting duties. She slowed in front of the huge garagelike doors that housed the fire engines within the bay, her gaze lingering on the lime-colored trucks. They were all Darley engines, and she recalled with some relief that as a student at the Ohio Fire Academy, she had learned pump procedures on them. Well, at least she was familiar with the equipment—that was one thing in her favor.

Stepping into the office, Leah met a dispatcher who was attired in a light blue, short-sleeved shirt and navy gabardine slacks. Her heart dropped when she saw him scowl. She put on a smile and said, “My name is Leah Stevenson. I’m reporting for work. Is Chief Anders in?”

“Yeah, just a minute,” he growled, and paged the chief. He slowly looked her up and down and Leah silently endured his scornful appraisal. Groaning inwardly, she shoved all her fears, anxieties, and questions to the back of her mind. Right now she had to try to walk a tightrope with Chief Anders. He had opposed her even more strongly than the city administrators who had fought her being hired as a member of the fire department.

Anders came in the other door, his leathery face devoid of any expression. “Stevenson?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Come with me.”

Leah swallowed against the lump forming in her throat and followed him through the quiet bay. She looked off to the left as they walked by a small kitchen. Three firemen looked up with curiosity as she and the chief passed by the door. The shuffle of feet and the scraping of chairs could be heard seconds after their passing. Leah could picture all three of them craning out the door to get their first look at the “lady” fire fighter. Adrenaline surged through her, adding to her shaky feeling.

Anders motioned her into his small, cluttered office. The chief was in his late fifties, a tall spare man who looked more like he belonged behind the wheel of a tractor in some cornfield than here, Leah thought. He was thin and the nervous energy that flowed through him set her on edge as he began to pace behind his dilapidated oak desk.

“Sit down,” he ordered.

Leah sat on the edge of the chair, her back ramrod straight, and carefully placed her purse on her lap. Her heart was hammering as if she were laboring up an eight-foot aerial ladder with an air pak strapped on her back. This was the real war. The ordeal of completing the basic two-hundred-hour fire fighting course at the academy would be child’s play compared to the psychological battle that lay before her now. Her thoughts were interrupted by Anders.

“You got your way, Ms. Stevenson,” he growled, stopping to glare across the room at her. “The mayor says I either take you into the department or our city loses its federal funding. I’ve been a fireman for thirty years and I ain’t ever seen a female fire fighter. No woman can do this job. I don’t give a damn how great your grades were at the academy or how many of your instructors swear by your abilities.”

“All I ask is that you let me have a chance, Chief.”

“All you’re asking me to do is risk the life of one or more of my men so that you can prove me right,” he hurled back.

Her throat ached with tears but she refused to allow her emotions to overwhelm her. “Chief, I’ll be the first to quit if I ever put anyone’s life on the line. That’s a promise.”

Anders stood there regarding her silently for a long, tense minute. “It only takes once, you know. What if you’re in a structure that’s on fire and your partner’s air pak suddenly quits functioning and he can’t get oxygen? What are you gonna do? Go screaming for help like some dizzy broad?”

“No,” Leah replied with a great deal more calm than she felt. “We would buddy breathe off my tank and get out of the building as quickly as possible, Chief.”

“Sounds great on paper,” he snorted, folding his hands and resuming his pacing. “But saying it and doin’ it is two different things, Stevenson.”

Leah managed a small breath of relief. Good, at least he had dropped the Ms. Most chiefs called their fire fighters by the last name. Instead of being offended, she was relieved. She was thankful for her six years of experience in the air force as an air controller: she was used to discipline and to being called by her last name rather than her first.

“I can keep calm in dangerous situations, Chief. I didn’t work in a control tower because I was a dizzy broad. I’m used to keeping my head despite difficult circumstances,” she argued coolly.

“I guess we’re going to find that out, aren’t we?” he railed. “Well, come with me. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying for the next twenty-four-hour period. You get one day on and two days off on the summer schedule. And remember, it’s coed. I don’t have to build you a separate bathroom or shower, Stevenson. You want to enter a man’s world and our job, then you’re gonna use the same facilities we do. Understand?”

Leah picked up her purse. “Yes, sir.”

Anders showed her the upstairs portion of the firehouse, which was fitted with army-type bunks. The sleeping quarters had stairs as well as the standard fire pole to slide down. At the other end were lockers where civilian clothes could be stowed while the fire fighters were on duty. The chief halted in the middle of the highly polished oak floor.

“You get into uniform and then come down to the office when you’re done,” he ordered. He dug in his pocket, thrust a badge into her hand, and then stalked off.

“Yes, sir.” After a quick look around, Leah was relieved to find that all the on-duty firemen were downstairs in the kitchen. The only room that offered a measure of privacy was the bathroom. It was a small area housing two shower stalls, a sink with a cracked mirror above it, and a urinal. Leah slipped into her light blue shirt and navy blue slacks and pinned on the silver badge that Anders had given her. Her fingers lingered over it and she felt warm with pride.

Only officers wore gold badges; the rest of the fire fighters wore the silver ones, indicating their lesser rank. Leah smiled to herself: a silver badge distinguished her as part of the hardworking crew. She would be hauling hoses and ladders, scaling roofs with a hose and fire ax or whatever else was deemed necessary. Normally, the officer directed the fire fighting with his portable radio, but didn’t get personally involved. Nonetheless, she didn’t minimize the officer’s duties. In the end, her life was in his hands. If the officer was a poor one, he could get her killed by ordering her into a situation that was dangerous or unstable. No, a good officer was someone she would go to hell and back for, and she wondered if they had anyone here of the caliber of the instructors down at the Ohio Fire Academy. After hanging her clothes in the only available locker, she shut it and went downstairs.

Leah stopped at the gleaming red door of the chief’s office and knocked politely.

“Enter,” Anders growled through it.

She opened it, almost bumping into another fireman, who was standing just inside the entrance. Fragmented impressions hit her senses. He was an officer—she could tell that by the gold badge displayed above the left breast pocket of his shirt. She was aware of height and broad shoulders. It struck Leah that he looked as if he could easily carry the weight of the world around on them if he chose. She noted the intensity of his blue eyes as he quickly perused her upturned face. Leah somehow got through and closed the door, stepping away from the officer, who remained to her left.

“Stevenson, this is Lieutenant Gil Gerard. You’re being assigned to his crew.”

Leah’s mouth went dry as she turned, her hand extended. “Lieutenant, a pleasure to meet you.”

The officer inclined his head and clasped her hand. “Same here,” he intoned, his voice low and somewhat husky.

Leah’s arm tingled pleasurably. She was aware of the controlled strength of his grasp, of the rough texture of his fingers and the calluses on his palm. She forced a brief, businesslike smile to her lips and broke contact.

“Gil, take her around and show her the ropes,” Anders said, scowling heavily. “And remember what I told you…”

Gil pursed his mouth and opened the door, motioning her out. “Right, Chief.”

Leah glanced up, waiting for him to close it again. She was impressed with his height and excellent physical condition. She guessed that, like herself, he worked out with weights or jogged to stay fit. That discovery made her feel an immediate camaraderie with him. It was something she shared in common with someone here at the firehouse. Lifting her chin, Leah realized he was standing quietly beside her, watching her with veiled curiosity. She met his dark blue eyes and felt heat rising from her throat into her face.

“What do you like to be called?” he asked, walking slowly down the narrow hallway.

She wanted to be flip and answer: I’ve been called just about everything, but you can call me Leah if you want. She fought the urge. She didn’t dare allow humor into this tense situation. Above all else, she wanted to be accepted by the fire fighters. She couldn’t afford to hurt anyone’s feelings at this point. She had learned through harsh experience to be a shadow—seen but not heard. Otherwise the men reacted strongly and negatively to her presence. It was part of the price she paid for deciding to become a woman fire fighter.

“Most people call me Leah. My nickname down at the academy was Cat.”

He tossed a glance over his shoulder. “Is that because you have pretty green eyes?” he asked, a slight smile hovering around his mouth.

Confused, Leah suppressed her own smile. Why was he treating her so nicely? Anders had made it clear that no one welcomed her here—why should Gil Gerard be different. The officer appeared to be in his early thirties, a confident man with an open, readable face. She liked his features: He had black hair, intelligent eyes, a strong nose, and a rock-solid jaw. More than anything, Leah found herself liking his mouth. It wasn’t thin or thick but mobile, expressive, with the corners lifting, indicating that he smiled a great deal. She gave a sigh and her shoulders dropped slightly. In her heart she knew that the officer she was assigned to would either make her or break her.

Meeting Gil’s interested gaze, she realized she still owed him an answer to his question. “I got tagged with that down at the academy because on night exercises I could see hot spots before anyone else. They said I had eyes like a cat, so it stuck. I’d rather be called Leah, though.”

Gil nodded, pursing his mouth. He halted at the bay, putting his hands on his lean hips. “It pays to have good night vision,” he agreed amicably. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to our ladies here in the bay and then show you where we spend most of our time when we aren’t polishing the engines or the floors.”

He missed nothing in proudly showing her the “ladies.” Most fire fighters referred to the trucks as female. The self-contained breathing apparatus, or MSA air paks, were resting on specially constructed steel braces behind the drivers’ seats. When the alarm went off, whoever was assigned to get into air paks would leap into the “jump seats,” slip the gear over their shoulders, belt up, and donning air masks, ready to enter a burning building by the time they arrived on the scene. The air pak enabled a fire fighter to work in a smoke-filled structure without being overcome by the noxious atmosphere or deadly fumes.

Leah caressed the shiny lime fender of one Darley engine with her long, slender fingers as Gil stopped near the front of it. He patted the truck affectionately. “You’ll soon find out we have names for all these gals.”

“And a few curse words, I’ll bet,” she added, smiling hesitantly. There was something about Gil that made her feel safe about letting down her guard and allowing a little bit of her private self to show.

“Well, we have Lady here, and naturally, she is one. She behaves real well no matter what the weather conditions are or how sticky a situation gets at a fire scene.” He walked over to the second pumper. “This one we call the Beast because she always gives her driver a problem. A real cold starter. Won’t cooperate with you at all if she’s throwing one of her fits.” He grinned, his teeth white and even against his darkly bronzed skin. “Just like some women.”

Leah shrugged. “Maybe she just needs a more gentle touch…a little more understanding,” she said hesitantly.

One eyebrow rose in response. “Could be. Did you have much experience driving these rigs down at the academy?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact they had Darleys.”

He nodded. “Good. I’ll keep that in mind. We may need you there if we find ourselves in a bind,” he murmured, sounding pleased.

She frowned. At a paid fire station each fire fighter was assigned a specific job and rarely stepped into any other specialty. If a man was a driver and pump operator on an engine, he always remained in that position. It sounded as though she would be a “gopher,” doing the myriad jobs that were demanded of a fire fighter at a scene, but having no one specialty. Though she didn’t feel comfortable with Gil’s comment, she said nothing as she followed him back to the next pumper.

“This is Molly, our aerial ladder. We’ve got some three- to five-story buildings around here and occasionally we need her services. The last one here is Lizzy and she’s our squad truck. We take her out on extrication runs, medical emergencies, and other miscellaneous duties.” Gil halted, resting his tall frame against the squad truck, and looked at her for a long moment.

“I understand that you specialized in auto extrication down at the academy.”

“Yes, I loved it. I joined a volunteer fire department while I was down at Reynoldsburg and the extrication officer, Harry Billings, sort of took me under his wing and showed me the ropes.”

Gil looked impressed. “Harry’s one of the best,” he agreed, his voice taking on a new tone of respect. “I did all my training under him down at the academy years ago. Did you make any runs?”

“Five,” she admitted, deliberately trying not to recall those scenes. She hadn’t been ready for the blood, the screams of the people trapped inside the wrecked cars. No one had prepared her for the emotional side of the work. She had been sick more than once after the victims had been extricated and were on their way to a hospital in an ambulance. Harry had stoically waited until she was done and then they collected the gear. His only words were: “You’ll get used to it after a while, Leah.” And her returning comment had been: “I doubt it.”

“Blood bother you?” Gil asked, interrupting her thoughts.

How should she answer? If she was honest, it did. But if she owned up to it, he would think her weak and incapable. “No,” she lied.

He reacted as if he’d expected no other answer. “Depending on how you work out here, Leah, I need someone besides myself who can run the extrication equipment. I get called in every time we have that sort of job.” He smiled, and his face lost its momentary seriousness. “I have other things to do during my days off, so maybe we can eventually work out some sort of a system.”

“You get that many calls?” she asked, a little surprised.

Gil nodded. “Yeah, we’re right off a turnpike and a major interstate. And because northeast Ohio is so heavily industrialized, we have more spills of hazardous materials here than in any other part of the state.”

Now it was her turn to raise her eyebrows. “How many fire calls do you get a year?”

“About three hundred fire runs and two hundred miscellaneous ones, including mutual aid with four other volunteer departments that surround our town’s border. We keep pretty busy. You like to fight fires?”

She considered it a silly question. “Of course,” she answered, stung. “I didn’t put myself through the academy for a lark.”

Gil held up both hands. “Easy, I was only wondering.”

She felt a rapport with him and decided to take a chance. “Lieutenant, why aren’t you treating me like the plague? Most fire fighters would.”

He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, shifting his weight to one leg. “A couple of reasons, I guess. One, I’m not from Baybridge originally. Two, I’d like to consider myself open-minded about a woman doing this job.” He frowned. “If you prove to be able to handle the runs, I’ll be a hundred and ten percent behind you. But if you don’t cut it, I’ll be the first to recommend your dismissal,” he warned.

She compressed her lips. He was like all the rest. She would have to be twice as good as any male rookie and make half as many mistakes as any other man who might hold the same job. Well, it was too late to turn back and slink into her old way of life. When she had divorced Jack she had said goodbye to the suffocating lifestyle that she had led for six years.

“Are you saying that the rest of the fire fighters are locals?”

He ran his strong-looking fingers through his hair, pushing a stray strand off his forehead. “They are. As two outsiders, we might even call them clannish and backward,” he admitted ruefully. “This town is an agricultural area for the most part, with a few coal mines and coal trucks thrown in.”

Leah stepped away from him. She was drawn too easily to his quiet magnetism. He was handsome in an interesting way, a way that attracted her and at the same time frightened her. “Why are you being so helpful?” she demanded.

“Until you give me cause to treat you differently, I won’t discriminate on the basis of your sex.”

She eyed him distrustfully. She had run into two types of fire fighter thus far. One type disdained her completely and treated her with angry silence. The other type tried to seduce her, seemingly turned on by the thought of a woman doing a dangerous job. Gil Gerard seemed to be the latter…but she wasn’t sure.

She touched her brow, managing a fleeting smile of apology. “I’m sorry. I’m sure I sound like I’ve got a chip on my shoulder. It’s just that I’ve endured a hell of a lot of chauvinism.”

“Yeah, you got a little chip on your shoulder,” he commented, a slow grin pulling at his mouth. His eyes were dark and sparkled with mirth. “And I do have to admit, I did fight fires with a woman before I joined here, so I have a little more experience in the matter than the rest of the fellas.”

Leah’s eyes widened. “You did?”

Gil shrugged. “I was a volunteer fireman before I joined a paid department.”

“For how long?”

“Five years.”

“And how long have you been paid?”

“Three.”

She stared at him. “And you’ve made officer already?” There was a newfound respect in her voice. Being a fire officer wasn’t some cushy job gotten through political pull. No, the man or woman selected had to have a lot of intelligence and experience to be sending a fire team into unknown and many times dangerous situations.

“I’m good at taking tests,” he said, trying to minimize his credentials, as he led her around to the opposite wall where the turn-out gear was neatly hung.

“You have to be more than a good test taker to get the rank,” she observed seriously, stopping at his shoulder.

“Hmm, I suppose. Let’s try and find some gear that will fit you.” He emphasized the word fit. For the next half hour Leah tried on every coat and every pair of boots and bunker pants in the station. Nothing fit. It was all too large. Especially the boots. She sat on the chair, sliding off the last pair.

“We’ll have to order you an outfit,” Gil acknowledged as he hung the last coat back up on its hook. “Probably take a couple of weeks, if I know our dispatcher.”

Leah looked up at him sharply. “I’m not about to sit out fire calls for that period of time!”

“I wouldn’t let you anyway. For now, let’s get the closest fit, and tomorrow when we’re off duty I’ll take you up to Cleveland and we’ll get you some decent gear. Deal?”

Either he was an angel or he had an angle, Leah decided, mulling over the tempting invitation. She had just rented an apartment and most of her articles were still packed. It wouldn’t be much fun spending the day there alone. Furthermore, she was unacquainted with the area and knew it would be better if he were along. Still…she didn’t want to socialize with anyone here at the station. She had read enough articles in Fire Chief Magazine by women fire fighters to realize that irate wives would probably be calling to see if their husbands were “safe” from the new female at the station. Idly, she looked at his left hand. There was no wedding band there. That didn’t mean anything, though, and Gil had mentioned that he did like his days off. Many times the stress of fire fighting drove a wedge into a family, and divorce was too often the result.

“Well?”

“Oh…sorry, I was thinking. I’d appreciate it, Lieutenant, but I don’t want to take you away from—”

“No problem,” he returned smoothly. “I’ve made it a point to make sure my team has the best protection and the most training possible, and you’ll be no exception to that rule. You can’t effectively do your job in a pair of poorly fitting boots. You’d be falling all over yourself.”

Leah grinned. “That brings back a lot of memories. For the first two weeks at the academy I had a coat that was four sizes too big and boots that came off my feet every time I took a step.”

“You must have been damn good, then,” he praised, “because I got a chance to look at your academy records. Lousy-fitting gear would be enough to put some fire fighters out of commission altogether.”

She put her sensible black shoes back on and then stood up. “I couldn’t let that happen to me. I just gritted my teeth and told myself I was going to do it better than any of them, and I guess I did.”

He tilted his head, studying her in a new light. “I like your aggressiveness, Leah. Come on, let me introduce you to the rest of the crew. It’s almost time to pick straws to see who makes dinner tonight.” The other three fire fighters looked up when Gil escorted her into the kitchen-and-dining area. Leah automatically tensed, sensing the coldness in the air.

“Fellas, this is Leah Stevenson, our new member. She’s got eyes like a cat, from what she tells me.” He pointed to a small wiry man who had dark hair and eyes and an olive complexion. “This is Tony DiGeronimo, but everyone calls him Apache even though he’s Italian because no one can pronounce his last name in a hurry. He’s been on board for seven years and is one hell of a fire fighter.”

Tony sized her up. “Welcome aboard,” he said, smiling openly.

“And this good-looking string bean is Sam Wilson. He’s our driver and pump operator. He’s been on board for fifteen years and there isn’t a thing he doesn’t know about Darley pumps.”

Sam managed a sour grin, nervously turning his coffee mug in his hands, his lanky arms on the table. “Except for the Beast out there.”

She smiled shyly, trying desperately to appear relaxed beneath the men’s intense scrutiny. “Hi, Sam.”

Gil motioned to his right toward a man who was scowling darkly at her. “This is Duke Saxon and he’s been with us for three years. I think he’s been involved in about every dangerous structure fire we’ve ever made a run on. Always been at the wrong place at the right time.”

Duke stared in her direction; his black eyes were vicious looking. He was a huge, heavily muscled man, and it was clear he resented her presence.

Gil pulled out a chair for her. “Have a seat, Leah. How about some coffee?”

She turned. “That would be great. Thanks.”

“Since when did you ever wait on any of us?” Duke growled.

The rest of the fire fighters laughed nervously as Gil walked nonchalantly to the draining board and pulled down a cup. “If you were as good-looking, Duke, I might have done the same for you,” Gil retorted, his smile fixed. There was an unspoken warning in his look.

Leah sensed an immediate antagonism between the two men. Great, she thought, that’s all I need, to walk into the middle of a sparring session between an officer and a fire fighter. She thanked Gil nervously as he placed the cup in front of her, then took a quick sip and burned her tongue.

“Okay, who’s cooking today?” Gil asked, leaning against the draining board.

Duke snorted. “Let her.”

She raised her head, meeting his black glare. “I wasn’t hired as chief cook and bottle washer, Duke. I’ll take my turn like everyone else.”

The silence froze around them like brittle ice. Leah heard Gil sigh as he came over to the table. There was a deck of cards on the table and he picked them up, spreading them into a fanlike position. “Okay, everyone pick a card. Low man—that is, person—will be cook and bottle washer for the shift.”

To Leah’s relief, Apache got the two of hearts and he growled, getting to his feet.

“Okay, guys, you’re gettin’ spaghetti and meatballs—again,” he warned.

Sam Wilson groaned. “Give me the Rolaids now….”

The fire fighters kept up their banter all evening, excluding her unless Gil made a concerted effort to include her in the conversation. Leah sat in one of the old frayed chairs and watched television with the rest of them, but she wasn’t really listening to it. Her heart was filled with pain at the undercurrent of bitterness the men felt toward her. Duke made no bones about it at all and Sam ignored her as if she didn’t exist.

Wanting something to do, Leah got up and went out into the semilighted bay, walking around each engine to begin familiarizing herself with the equipment and where it was stowed. Each compartment held some particular instrument that might be needed on a moment’s notice at the scene of a fire. In one, all the electrical cords, a fan, and extra outlets were stored. In the rear of the main pumper were several spare air bottles. During a hot blaze, a fire fighter could go through two or three cylinders; each tank only contained thirty minutes’ worth of air supply, and fighting fire made a person breathe deeply and heavily because of the physical exertion.

She had spent more than a half hour out in the bay alone when she heard someone walking up behind her. Turning, she saw it was Duke Saxon.

“Whatya doing, trying to impress the lieutenant by being gung ho?” he sneered.

Leah moistened her lips and ordered her body to remain relaxed although her heart was hammering wildly in her chest. She lifted her chin and met his hooded stare.

“I don’t have to impress anyone.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Look, it’s pretty obvious you don’t want me around here, and I can live with that,” she began tightly.

“Bet you had to live with that down at the academy, too. You may be a good-lookin’ broad, but that don’t make you no fireman, honey. Hell, if you weigh over one-forty, I’ll quit the force.”

“Weight’s got nothing to do with it,” she countered icily.

“Like hell it don’t. You tryin’ to tell me that if I get in trouble in a burning structure and you gotta drag me out with air pak on that you can do it? I weigh close to three hundred pounds with all that gear on.” He snorted, his eyes narrowing. “No way, honey, no way.” He raised his finger, pointing at her. “But I’m gonna tell you something and it had better stick the first time around—you screw up with me and it will be your last day on the force.”

Her body was galvanized with fury. “I’ll remember that, Saxon,” she promised, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You do that, honey. Sam and Apache feel the same. None of us wants you around here except that damn lieutenant of ours.” Duke shook his head. “He’s an outsider like you are, so what the hell does he know?”

“Stevenson?” It was Gil’s voice ringing through the bay. She gasped softly, turning in his direction. Through the dimness she saw his head and broad shoulders, looking incredibly strong in the shadows. Saxon gave her one last glare and turned away, then melted back into the darkness, avoiding Gil completely.

“Listen, before you turn in tonight I want—” he stopped, frowning. “You all right?”

“Yeah, sure,” she muttered.

Gil looked around and then back at her. “You look pale,” he observed.

“It’s nothing,” she ground out. “Now what is it you want me to do?”

He handed her several manuals. “If you need some bedtime reading, here are the rules and regulations of the department. If we have to make a run tonight I’m going to hold you back and let you play gopher. I’ll be working up a training schedule for you in the next week so that I can get acquainted with your weak and strong points.” He appraised her closely. “You’re pretty good at hiding things, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Startled by the concern in his voice, Leah reacted more strongly than she had intended. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He leaned against the engine, one hand resting on the side of his head. “I saw Duke sneaking back to the kitchen, so I figured you had a run-in with him. He’s not known for mincing his words and he holds a real macho attitude toward women in general. You know the type—keep them barefoot and pregnant.”

Leah felt her body trembling with repressed anger and she found no humor in his statement. She remained silent beneath his scrutiny, feeling acutely uncomfortable.

“Look,” he began heavily, “if you’re having trouble with any of these guys, let me know.”

She nearly laughed. “And rat on them? That’s great, Lieutenant. I’m sure that will go over big. No, thanks. I learned down at the academy to take my lumps and keep my mouth shut.”

Gil frowned and stood upright. “That may have worked well down there, Stevenson, but it won’t here. This is a permanent job for you and you’ll probably be with this crew for at least a year. I want to stop any problems before they get started. And I don’t consider your coming to me as ratting. It’s my job to make sure my crew works as a smooth unit not only for your sake, but for the safety of the people we rescue as well.”

She moved restlessly away from him, wanting to believe him but afraid to. “I’ll work it out my own way,” she said, then turned and went upstairs to the bunk room.

* * *

It was nearly eleven when she closed the manual, unable to stop the words from blurring before her eyes. She sighed and sat up on the edge of her bunk. There were five beds: three on one side and two on the other. It was quiet and the silence only emphasized the loneliness Leah felt. She looked slowly around the small room, feeling terribly bereft. Going back downstairs she pulled her boots and bunker pants from beneath her coat and helmet and carried them up to the sleeping quarters. Dutifully arranging the black canvas bunker pants so that they would be accessible in case of an alarm, she shortened the red suspenders for her height. After taking a pair of cotton pajamas and her robe and toilet articles, she went into the shower room. Leah was sure that the rest of the men would wait until she was safely in bed before coming up.

By midnight she was snuggled into her bunk beneath a light sheet. She lay awake, staring into the darkness. Her first job…and no one except Lt. Gil Gerard cared if she was here or not. And he seemed to think of her as one more management problem he would have to deal with. She sighed softly, her heart aching over the idiocy of it all.

What was wrong with these thick-headed firemen? She was perfectly capable of doing the job and helping to save lives. And wasn’t that what it was all about? Saving lives and property? Who the hell cared if it was a man or a woman who did the saving? Did the child she’d rescued last month care that she was a woman? And what about the old man with a heart attack to whom she had administered CPR? Or the man she’d cut out of a mangled car whose bleeding she had staunched until paramedics could arrive? Leah took a deep, unsteady breath, finally closing her eyes. Why didn’t they see the motivation behind her actions? She didn’t want to invade a man’s world; she wanted only to be given the chance to work at something that gave her a sense of accomplishment.