Jessica

After checking my face in my mirrored compact, touching up my lip gloss, and taking a deep breath to calm myself, I clapped my hands three times to get the children’s attention. “Line up at the door, kiddos!”

The students scurried over to the door and lined up along the wall. I stepped over to the head of the line. “What do we do as we’re walking down the hall?”

They stage-whispered in response. “We keep our hands to ourselves and our lips zipped.” They mimicked zipping their lips. This year’s class had certainly caught on quickly. I gave them a silent thumbs-up in reply.

I opened the door and instructed today’s line leader to head to the gym. When the last child had left the room, I closed the door behind me and strode to the front of the line. We were the first class to arrive. Since I’d been the one to arrange the assembly, I’d planned to take my class a few minutes early so that I could introduce myself to the firefighters.

The three firefighters and the paramedic were setting up equipment at the front of the gym. The tall, dark-haired one was crouched down in front of a wide toolbox, his back turned to the room.

After seating my class on the floor I approached the firefighters, my pulse rate in overdrive. The yellow Lab wagged his tail as I drew near. “Hey, pooch!” I called, unsure whether it was okay to pet the furry Lab. I decided to err on the side of caution, and didn’t touch him.

The blond man turned my way.

I extended my hand. “Hi. I’m Jessica Bellingham. Thanks so much for coming.”

“Lieutenant Seth Rutledge.” The man gave my hand a firm shake before letting go to gesture to his four-footed partner. “This furry guy is Blast. He’s an explosive-sniffing dog. We thought the students might like to see what he can do. They’re welcome to pet him afterward.”

“Perfect. We’ll use that as an incentive for them to pay attention.” I hoped the children would listen well and take the firefighters’ words to heart. It could save their lives someday.

The blue-haired woman finished laying the long hose out across the floor, stood, and turned to me. “Hi, Jessica. I’m Frankie Kerrigan.”

I took her hand. “You’ll be an inspiration to the girls. A few too many of them plan on being princesses when they grow up.”

Frankie scrunched up her nose. “Ew. I don’t know why any girl would want to be a princess. Too many frogs to kiss.”

“Yuck,” I agreed. “And don’t even get me started on glass slippers.” I held up my foot, clad in a ballet flat. “These puppies are way more comfortable.”

We shared a smile.

The dark-skinned man stood and held out his hand. He looked to be in his early fifties, quite a bit older than the others. “Doug Harrison. I’m a paramedic.”

I shook his hand and thanked him for coming, too.

Behind Frankie, the dark-haired guy stood and turned my way. It took everything in me not to squeal in delight when those brown eyes met mine once again.

He stepped over, standing close enough for me to smell his crisp, cedar-scented soap, which, naturally, made me visualize him naked in a shower, which, naturally, made my body temperature soar once again. He eyed me knowingly. Crap! Does he realize the effect he’s having on me? How embarrassing!

He offered me a smile and his hand. “I’m Lieutenant Louie DeLuca.”

Italian, huh? Mamma mia!

I took his hand. It was big and warm and rough from his work, the manliest hand I’d ever held. It took every bit of my willpower not to rub it all over myself, right there. “I’m . . .” Holy crap! I’ve forgotten my own name! I let go of his hand, hoping the lack of contact would allow my synapses to resume firing in my brain. Luckily, the tactic worked. “ . . . Jessica Bellingham.”

I wanted to ask how he’d ended up here at the school on his day off, but I didn’t want to seem overly eager. Heck, I wasn’t even sure he remembered our brief exchange Monday at the coffee place, whether I’d even registered with him. Probably not. A guy like him would be constantly ogled by women, many of whom would be wearing attire far more attractive than an Oscar the Grouch T-shirt. The ruffled purple blouse I’d worn today was definitely a step up.

“I’m glad you invited us out, Miss Bellingham,” he said.

I’m glad, too, but probably for different reasons.

While the other kindergarten classes filtered into the gymnasium, the firefighters wrangled the folded gym mats from the stack and spread them in a long line across the floor. I wasn’t sure exactly what Louie had in mind, but he clearly looked like a man who knew what he was doing.

When all of the classes were seated, I cupped my hands around my mouth and called out, “Okay, kids, time to quiet down!”

The dull roar continued, my voice no match for more than a hundred excited children. Louie stepped up next to me, one of the fire department’s bullhorns in hand. He held the device out to me. “Try this.”

I took the bullhorn from him, held it to my mouth, and pushed the button, repeating the order for the kids to quiet down. With the help of the gadget, they heard me this time and closed their mouths so I could continue. “We have four firefighters here today to teach you all about fire safety. Lieutenants DeLuca and Rutledge, Firefighter Kerrigan, and Paramedic Harrison are going to tell you some very important things, so listen closely. If you do a good job listening, you’ll get to pet their dog, Blast, when the assembly is over.”

On hearing his name, the dog wagged his tail, raised his snout, and issued a quick bark that echoed through the cavernous room. Arf-arf!

I returned the bullhorn to Louie, trying not to melt into a pile of goo at his feet, and stepped over to the far wall to keep watch over my class. Two of the other kindergarten teachers joined me. One was Tasha, a petite, caramel-skinned newlywed in her early thirties. The other—Patricia—was a seasoned, gray-haired woman in her midsixties who planned to retire at the end of the year. Patricia leaned toward me and Tasha and whispered, “You think those guys would give us teachers a private lesson in the lounge later? I’d love to watch them work their hose.”

“Patricia!” I scolded in jest. “You should be ashamed of yourself!”

She shrugged. “You teach kindergarten for forty-three years, you gotta amuse yourself somehow.”

Louie began to speak, not bothering with the bullhorn. His deep voice was loud enough to carry throughout the space. No doubt he’d perfected his technique shouting orders during fires. “Okay, boys and girls. You ready to learn the rules of fire safety?”

“Yes!” the kids hollered at the top of their lungs.

Louie ran through the rules, starting with “don’t play with matches or lighters,” moving on to “don’t place anything over a lamp or heater,” and ending with “if a building is on fire don’t hide, go outside.”

After Louie stated each rule, Frankie called out, “What’s the rule?” and cupped a hand over her ear as the kids recited it back.

Lieutenant Rutledge and his dog joined in now. “Smoke rises toward the ceiling,” he said, pointing upward. “When you’re escaping a building, you should stay low where the air is more clear so you can breathe better. Do the ‘fall and crawl.’” He and his dog demonstrated, falling to a crouch on a mat and crawling forward.

The kids giggled as they watched Blast wriggle his way across the mat.

Louie advised them on the importance of an exit strategy. “Be sure that your family practices an escape plan from every room in your house,” he warned. “Choose a safe place away from your house where you can meet to make sure everyone got out safely.”

“Make an escape plan!” Frankie called out. “Choose a meeting place!” She pointed a finger at the kids, and they repeated her words, less in unison now than they’d been before, but nonetheless getting the gist.

“Now,” Louie said. “Let’s talk about what to do if your clothes catch on fire.” He stepped to the center of the mat, while the other two firefighters positioned themselves at either end so all of the kids would have a good view. “If your clothing catches fire—”

The three proceeded to act out realizing their clothes were on fire, flailing their arms and opening their mouths in silent screams.

Louie called out. “You stop!”

All three froze in place.

“Drop!” Louie ordered.

The trio dropped down on all fours.

“And roll!” he shouted.

The three rolled back and forth on the mats. Blast joined in, his four legs in the air.

Patricia discreetly angled her head to indicate Louie. “I’d like to stop, drop, and roll with him.”

“The same thought crossed my mind,” I whispered back.

Tasha arched an eyebrow. “Why don’t you go for it? You and Scott broke up months ago. It’s about time you got back in the game.”

Scott and I had been a mismatch from the get-go. He was a stoic computer programmer who lived by strict rules and plans and schedules and order. My personality tended toward the more artistic end of the spectrum, where spontaneity, an active imagination, and creative chaos were seen as opportunities, not failures. Add in his reaction when he discovered my secret, and I knew he was not the guy for me. Of course it was precisely his reaction that made me feel gun-shy about jumping back into the dating pool. Maybe I should remain celibate the rest of my days, become a foster parent or adopt the children I’d always wanted. One glance at Louie, though, and I realized celibacy was not an option. My hormones were primed and ready for action.

Before I could respond to Tasha, Louie proceeded to tell the kids some basics about firefighting techniques. He picked up each tool and explained how they were used. Brandishing the axe, he said, “We use an axe have to hack our way through wooden doors or walls.” Next, he showed the kids a small plastic and metal device he called a door chock. “These hold the doors open for us as we make our way through a building.” He continued on, explaining the purpose of each of several tools. When he finished, he held up his mask. “Firefighters wear these special masks that help us breathe in smoky buildings. I’m going to put it on so you can see what a firefighter would look like if he or she came to rescue you from a fire.”

He donned the mask and paraded back and forth in front of the kids, raising his arms in jest as if he were going to attack. The kids screamed in laughter.

“I look like a big bug, don’t I?” he said in a muffled voice. He pulled the mask off. “See? Nothing to be scared of. It’s just a person inside.”

His spiel complete, he held out an arm to indicate Rutledge. “I’ll turn things over now to Lieutenant Rutledge and his dog, Blast.”

We applauded in response as the man and his dog took center stage in front of the mat.

“Fires are sometimes caused by explosions,” the bomb squad officer explained. He told the kids that Blast was trained to sniff for things that could explode and cause a fire. He pulled a small clear packet out of his pocket and held it up. “See this dark stuff that looks like black sand? This is gunpowder. It can catch fire and explode very easily. I’m going to give this packet to Lieutenant Louie, and he’s going to hide it somewhere in this room. My dog and I will wait outside while he’s hiding the powder. When we come back in, Blast will find it all by himself.”

The children murmured in excitement. It was like a magic trick!

He stepped over to hand the packet to Louie, then led his dog out of the gym. Once the door closed behind Rutledge and his dog, Louie ran his eyes over the audience. “Where should I hide this?”

He stepped up to the children and walked along the edge of the crowd as if looking for a place to hide the gunpowder. He continued on, drawing closer and closer, my heart rate increasing with each step he took in my direction. Finally, Louis stepped right in front of me. He stopped walking and turned to face me, mere inches separating us. Though there were hundreds of children and a dozen teachers in the room, all with their eyes on us, it felt as if we were the only two people on the planet. I was acutely aware of my quick, shallow breathing, of the rapid rise and fall of my chest. I willed my heart and lungs to slow down lest they give me away.

His eyes flashed and a roguish grin played about his lips. “I’m going to give it to you.”

Were those words full of innuendo or what? Not trusting myself to speak—I was afraid a squeak would come out if I opened my mouth—I nodded and held out my palm. He reached out and dropped the packet into my hand. Though he didn’t touch me, he was close enough for me to feel his warm breath feather over my neck as he looked down. I was afraid to look up at him, afraid my face would reveal my feelings, so I simply closed my fingers around the packet and stared at the shiny wood floor until I saw his black boots back away.

When I looked up, he said, “Give the dog a challenge. Sit in the middle of your class.”

I did as he’d told me, carefully picking my way through my students and taking a seat on the floor in the middle of them where I’d be less conspicuous.

Once I was settled, Louie returned to the front of the gym and called to Frankie, who was waiting at the gym doors, “Let ’em in!”

Frankie pushed the doors open and Seth and Blast came back inside. She gestured to the crowd. “Show these kids what you two can do.”

Seth reached down, unclipped the leash from his dog, and issued an order. The Lab raised his nose and padded forward, sniffing the air. He put his nose to the floor briefly as he trotted along, but then lifted it again. As he drew near, the dog took a few steps into the crowd of giggling children, wriggling his way through them.

“He sniffed me!” a little girl cried in glee.

“His nose is wet!” said another.

The dog eased through the crowd of kids, coming closer and closer. When he was only a few feet away he raised his head in the air, twitched his nostrils twice, and eyed me. He stepped up, sniffed at the closed hand I held on my knee, and sat down, waiting for his handler.

Rutledge picked his way through the crowd toward us. “Good job, boy!”

After he gave the dog a nice scratch, I returned the gunpowder to him.

The fire-safety lesson and explosive-detection demonstrations complete, Harrison gave the kids a quick lesson in emergency medicine. He pulled his stethoscope out of his bag, helped a little boy put the earpieces into his ears, and positioned the chest piece over his heart. “Do you hear a noise going ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump? That’s your heart.”

“It’s loud!” the boy said.

When Harrison wrapped up his part, Louie took the lead again, looking out over the crowd. “Do you have any questions for us?”

Several students raised their hands, mostly asking about the dog. Where he slept. What he ate. Did he like to play ball?

Bethany’s hand shot up. When Louie pointed to her, she asked, “Is it hard to see out of the air mask?”

“Yes, it is,” Louie said. “It can be very difficult to see in a smoky building. On TV and in movies they show the fire lighting up a room. But that’s not real. It’s actually very dark inside a burning building. The rooms are full of smoke.”

Lexi, one of the single teachers, raised her hand. Lexi was a redhead with generous curves and heavily made-up eyes. A catty smile crossed her face when Lieutenant DeLuca acknowledged her. “I can tell you work out,” she purred. “How much can you bench press?”

“On a good day? Around three hundred and fifty,” Louie replied matter-of-factly, seemingly oblivious to her curves and flattery.

“Wow!” she gushed. “That’s a lot.”

Standing next to Lexi was Nora, a tall, thin blonde just two years out of college. She raised a hand tipped with sparkling pink nails. When Louie acknowledged her, she blinked her big blue eyes and said, “What traits are important in being a good fireman?”

It was a good question, one that would provide useful information to any of the children who might think firefighting could be the job for them someday. I wish I’d thought to ask that.

“Firefighters have to be dedicated and responsible,” Louie replied. “There are a lot of people counting on us, not just the victims but our fellow firefighters as well. We have to be driven both mentally and physically, and we have to be able to work as part of a team.”

A little boy raised a tentative hand. When Louie pointed to him, the boy asked, “How did you get to be so brave?”

“Being brave doesn’t mean you don’t get scared,” Louie replied. “It just means you do what needs to be done even when you are scared. Every time we enter a burning building, we worry we might not come back out again. We fear that the smoke will make it hard for us to breathe, or that a roof or wall might cave in and trap us inside. We’re afraid we might miss a victim somewhere, or be unable to get to a victim who needs our help. We get scared a lot on our jobs. But we are trained to think calmly and to follow rules that keep us as safe as possible.”

Though he could have easily made himself and his fellow first responders sound fearless and heroic, Louie had given an honest, humble answer. The guy had every reason to be full of himself, yet he wasn’t. I admired that.

He looked around but saw no more raised hands. He turned to look at me. “Before the kids go outside to the trucks, we’d like them to practice both the fall and crawl and the stop, drop, and roll. Does your class want to go first, Miss Bellingham?”

My students’ cries of delight answered the question for me. I motioned for them to stand. “Y’all line up behind me.” Once we had a line formed, I walked my class over to the mat.

Louie stepped into place only a couple feet away. A smile played about his kissable lips. “Start with a fall and crawl, then the stop, drop, and roll. I want to check out your technique.”

Check out my technique? Woot! There was little doubt the guy was flirting with me now. Maybe I should get back in the game after all, jump back in the pool, see if firefighter Louie DeLuca could further stoke my flames.

I summoned my meager acting skills, waving a hand in front of my face. “I can’t breathe! There’s so much smoke!”

“Fall!” Louie ordered.

I fell.

“Now crawl!” he barked.

I crawled forward several feet, wondering all the while if he was checking out my ass. Was it wrong of me to hope he was?

He stepped forward to walk alongside me. “Good job, Miss Bellingham.”

When I stopped crawling, he held out a hand to help me up. Again, I took it. Again, I fought the urge to rub it on my cheek. Scott’s hands had been an office worker’s hands, smooth and soft. Nothing like these masculine hands.

Once I was on my feet, Louie said, “Now let’s see your stop, drop, and roll.”

“Oh, no!” I cried, grabbing the hem of my shirt and looking down at myself. “My clothes are on fire!”

While I’d only been pretending an instant before, something came over me then, a dark memory enclosing me like a thick shroud of smoke, stealing my breath. When I gazed down now I didn’t see my ruffled blouse. Instead, I saw something else. Something terrifying. Something real, or at least that had been real, all those years ago. The hem of my pink flannel pajama top was trimmed in flames, the smiling white sheep printed on the fabric locked in place, unable to run. Only I hadn’t been locked in place. I’d done just the thing a person shouldn’t do when their clothes caught fire.

I had run.