A Different Way Page 3

  He pulled into the driveway and Adam’s father opened the front door and waited for him to get out. “Come on in, Reverend Brady. You’re just in time.”

  “Hello, Carlton.” Brady stepped inside the house. “On time, you mean?”

  “That too. We had another one of our rows.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. And that you’re fighting so much with your son.”

  “There are rules in this house, Pastor.”

  Strict rules, too strict rules. These people were by-the-book religious, and had a difficult time with the liberal policies of the church, especially after Brady took over. “Before you say more, I’d like to go visit with Adam.”

  Brady often spent one-on-one time with the kids in his Boys Group.

  “You know the way. Martha was so upset she went out to her mother’s.”

  Brady climbed the steep staircase, common in the older Crystal City homes. He knocked on Adam’s door and heard, “Go away.”

  “It’s me, Reverend Brady.”

  The door unlocked from the inside and Adam opened it. The boy seemed haggard, a word not usually applied to teenagers. “Hi.”

  “Hi. You knew I was coming, right? We planned this.”

  “I did. Sorry I barked at you.”

  “I’m not offended.” He noticed again the sparsity of the room. Most boys had posters up, even borderline-decent ones, pictures of them and their friends, clever sayings. This room only contained a cross. He took the chair at Adam’s desk and the boy dropped down on the mattress, facing him. “What’s up? Your parents are upset with you?”

  “Nothing new. I break their rules, we have a fight, then we don’t talk to each other much for a few days.”

  “The anxiety level in this house must wear on all of you.”

  Adam sniffed. “No, not for me.”

  “You keep saying that, but I can tell you’re stressed.”

  “How?”

  “In our group, you get irritable easily. You snapped at Linc when he brought up a problem you didn’t want to discuss. And you had trouble focusing that day.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t come anymore.”

  Ah, teenage bravado. Brady softened his tone as much as he could. “Please don’t do that. I want you there.”

  The teen’s eyes filled. “Nobody wants me here.”

  “Of course, they do.”

  “They want their version of me.”

  “And what is that version?”

  “A holy son.” Adam’s blue eyes darkened with pain and his words were hoarsely uttered.

  “Holy?”

  “Yeah, like you know, pious.”

  “You go to church with them every Sunday.”

  “I don’t study the Bible enough. Only when they force me to read it in front of them.”

  “I’m sorry they feel that way. The Bible isn’t for everybody.”

  “Watch out saying that around them.”

  “In our denomination, people are allowed to have different views on what it means to be a Christian.”

  The boy didn’t respond.

  “So,” Brady said, “Let’s talk about you outside of this house. How’s Cindy?” His very steady girlfriend.

  “She’s great.” Delight replaced the sadness in his voice. “But that’s why they’re mad now.”

  “Is it the same objection you talked about in group? That you’re too serious with her. There’s too much temptation?”

  “Yep.”

  “Do you think she tempts you?”

  He reddened.

  “Adam, you can talk to me about sex. We should be doing that in the boys group.” Which he initiated last year. The girls in the church complained about not having a group, and when Brady offered to talk with them, too, they balked. Jenny could have helped him out with that.

  Adam shook his head. “That’s general stuff at group.”

  “Do you want to talk with me about specifics.”

  Again, the boy reddened. “My parents, they make me think I’m sinful for what Cindy and me, you know, do together.”

  “I understand. You do know that a healthy sexual appetite is common among boys your age.”

  “Yeah, but not right.”

  Hmm, he was going to have to walk carefully here. Time to fall back on church. “Some religions think divorce is wrong. Being gay is wrong. Missing church is wrong.”

  “We don’t.”

  “You’re right. The United Church of Christ is more liberal than many others.”

  “Dad thinks we’re too liberal. He says your father kept people on the straight and narrow, but you’re too far left.”

  “My dad was more conservative than I am in his personal beliefs, but he, like the UCC denomination, believes in making religion personal. Your relationship with God is yours. Your feelings about the Bible are, too. Even what God, or the Spirit, means to you is personal.”

  “That makes me feel better. Can you tell that to Dad?”

  “I can if he asks me. I won’t interfere with you two by taking sides.”

  “I guess. Wanna play a video game?”

  The signal that a kid was done sharing for now. “You mean you wanna get creamed again?”

  “No way in hell.”

  Brady didn’t reprimand him. Some thought the use of curse words was wrong. Brady had a whole different view on what swearing was. But for now, he’d enjoy Legions of Cortana, which would take them both into a different head space.

  That was fine with him. He needed distraction from his own thoughts today.

  * * *

  “First question is in the category of Movies before 2000. Who starred in the film Love Story?”

  Lynne sputtered out her beer. She dared a glance at Brady. He was biting his lip.

  Carly said, “Well, we all know it’s Ryan O’Neal.” She smiled at Brady. “But I can’t remember the woman’s name.”

  “Ali McGraw,” Lynne and Brady said in unison.

  They wrote it down on the sheet to answer tonight’s trivia.

  “Question 2: Name one of the women who Gene Kelly danced with in Singing in the Rain?

  Brady chuckled. “My mother loves that movie. One of them is Debbie Reynolds.”

  Several members, like Mike Holly, too young to remember Reynolds’ heyday, looked confused. All night, Lynne caught him staring at her.

  A few more questions were posed that Lynne didn’t know but she could swear Brady did. And how had she ended up in his group, anyway, for tonight’s Flying Solo outing at El Paso’s, a Mexican restaurant in Elmwood?

  After the first round ended, they took a break for dinner. The tables were divided by group. Brady said to Lynne, “There’s a buffet here of taco stuff. They usually have fish, beef and/or ground turkey, and vegetables as fillings.” He took a bead on her. “You’re not a vegetarian, right?”

  “Nah. I love beef and fish. But I do eat the vegetarian entree sometimes if it’s interesting.”

  A waitress appeared. “Table one, you start.”

  They rose, and Brady let everybody go first. But he held Lynne back so they could be in line together. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

  She didn’t need that, but he could be damned cute with his curly hair and hazel eyes. She wondered if he knew that. He seemed to have a real sense of humility that was rare in people.

  They both picked the whole wheat tortillas, took generous portions of beef, piled on grated Mexican cheese, sliced avocados and black beans.

  Brady reached for the spiciest sauce, and at the same time, so did Lynne. Their hands met on the bottle of dressing. Brady’s eyes widened, and Lynne felt a stirring deep within her. “You first, my dear.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  A pitcher of beer had been delivered to their table. They took seats, and Mike filled everybody’s glass. When he got to Lynne, he smiled. “Here you go, pretty lady.”

  Brady seemed taken back by the comment and bit generously into his taco. His face reddened. “Ugh! It’s burning my mo
uth.”

  “Weakling.” Lynne took a big bite, too. It was hot, but not too bad for her.

  “I can’t believe you swallowed it down like that.”

  “What can I say? I’m tough.”

  His eyes twinkled. “You must be.”

  * * *

  When dinner was cleared, Brady felt sated. Soon, the next game began. The questioner told them the next categories: sports, celebrities and holy cow, religion. He’d have to be careful not to star at that.

  “First question, Who was struck down on the road to Damascus?”

  “Paul,” Carly said, “Piece of cake.”

  Actually, Brady thought, his name was Saul before he got struck down by God. But he kept his mouth shut.

  “Second question, What are the important books in the Jewish religion and in the Muslim faith?”

  Many people knew the Torah and the Quran respectively.

  “Who is the father of Israel?”

  Immediately, Lynne said, “Abraham. I love that name, wanted to give it to my son, but I was overridden.” By her husband, he presumed.

  Lynne also starred at sports, and Brady again, held himself in check. During dinner and the game, he noticed again how the young firefighter, Mike Holly, made overtures to Lynne. They’d certainly had something in common. But Brady found himself disliking Mike’s attention to her.

  The last category was Disney shows. “Oh, boy,” Brady quipped devilishly, rubbing his hands together.

  When the event ended, he walked out side-by-side with Lynne, leaving Holly in the dust. He said, “If the next outing is in Elmwood, we should drive together.”

  She gave him a sincere smile. “I’d like that.”

  It had gotten dark, of course, as the evening progressed. And nippy. He buttoned up his coat and she zipped her jacket, then looped a multicolored scarf around her neck. They both put on gloves. “The night’s cold, but crisp, and clean.” Brady grinned. “I like this kind of weather.”

  “Hmm. It’s brutal fighting fires in the winter.”

  “I never thought about that. Is it dangerous?”

  “It can be. The biggest thing is the varying temperatures firefighters experience. We’re dressed to stay warm outdoors which can cause a risk of overheating inside the building. If firefighters go back out to get new air tanks, which happens a lot, the situation reverses almost instantly from hyperthermia to hypothermia.”

  Brady stopped short on the sidewalk. “That’s awful.”

  She stopped, too. “We have new gear that helps with that. A lot of people believe firefighters are crazy. They run into burning buildings while others are running out.”

  He tipped her chin and moved in closer. “You are quite a woman, you know that, Lynne Lucas?”

  “Thanks. And I have a feeling you’re a very special kind of man.”

  She didn’t know his profession, so she couldn’t be talking about that. “What do you mean?”

  “I could tell you could have killed all those categories. But you held back so others could answer. You didn’t show off.”

  “Into psychology?” he asked her.

  “Some. I know that’s what you do professionally, but this wasn’t clinical. You have an innate caring for others.”

  They started walking again and reached the spot where she’d parked her car on the street. They stopped, and she unlocked her car, then turned to him. A few neighborhood lamps on the street gave them some visibility. Her cheeks were red, but her smile was warm. “I had a wonderful night. By the way,” she asked, “did I end up in your group by happenstance?”

  “I’ll never tell.”

  Leaning over, he brushed his lips across hers and she grasped onto his arm. He simply couldn’t stop himself but she participated. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. But he drew back before it went any further. “Goodnight.”

  Her hand rose to her lips, as if to savor the sensation. “To you, too, Brady.”

  He turned and walked away, wanting to climb right into that car with her and do whatever she’d let him. Hell of a thing for a minister to be thinking!

  Chapter 3

  * * *

  Around ten a.m. on the first day of a new shift, a call came into their house. “Car fire on Bramble Street. Engine 4, Truck 2 go into service.”

  Lynne bolted up from the weight bench where she’d been lifting and hurried out of the room. She wore only a tank top and shorts so she shivered in the ice-cold bay as she donned her turnout coat and boots. The others came out, geared up, and jumped on the rig in under two minutes.

  From the front seat, Zander read from his tablet. “A neighbor called it in. No information on the cause or extent of the fire or if victims were inside.”

  They sped down the roads and arrived at the scene in another three minutes. Luckily, the car was on a side street. Truck 2 hadn’t arrived yet. Zander jumped out and raced over to the vehicle, which had hit a big tree, then called back, “Nobody’s inside. Quick, Lucas and Loder, lay a foam line. The engine’s dripping gas.”

  Lynne had already fastened her coat and secured her air pack in the rig, then climbed off. Sometimes firefighters were careless about PPE, and the call ended badly. She’s had to reprimand more than one Dannerville firefighter about slacking off that way.

  Braxton attached a line to the truck and then she and Loder hauled hose over to the car. She took the nozzle, while Loder was careful to shake the hose to get the kinks out, then stand behind her.

  “I need foam,” Lynne called out calmly.

  The thick white stuff spurted out but Lynne kept her footing. With Loder behind her, she positioned herself five feet back from the car and started spraying at the bottom. Thick white clouds of smoke billowed out and a November wind swept them away.

  She blanketed foam on the fuel surface because it separated the ignition source from any metal near it. Tiny pops came from the vehicle, then the fire went out.

  Behind her, Loder physically edged her closer. Not sure that was the right thing to do, she moved in a step and sprayed more. He pushed on her again, and she moved even closer. Before she could lay the last of foam, the car reignited and a balloon of angry flames enveloped Lynne.

  She dropped the line and stumbled out of the inferno. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” She slapped her helmet off and moved in a circle, disoriented for a few seconds.

  Loder grabbed the bouncing line and doused her with foam.

  When she put her hand up signaling enough, he fell to his knees about 15 feet back, trained the hose back on the car again and let it rip. Gradually, Loder inched closer, and Lynne repositioned her helmet and got behind him, holding the hose. The smoke turned black then white again. Finally, the fire went out for a second time.

  Lynne took off her helmet, air mask and Nomex hood, despite the frigid wind which whipped her hair and stung her face. She’d put out car fires before, but she’d never seen anything like this.

  She glanced over at the parking lot. Oh, no. The world would see what happened. Someone standing across the road had filmed the incident.

  * * *

  Trish and Nathan had been walking in the area and someone told them there was a car fire nearby. Since this was Lynne’s district, they got in their car, drove to the scene and pulled into the parking lot across from it. Nathan held onto Trish’s hand when they got out.

  “Nathan, no, no,” she gasped. “No.” Her legs started to buckle and Nathan caught her.

  “She’s not hurt, sweetheart. She’s out of the fire and seems fine.”

  Finally, Trish straightened but terror held her in its grip.

  “Why is she fine?” he asked.

  “Her PPE.” Personal Protective Equipment. “It saved her.” But in the aftermath of panic, she felt weak still. She wavered on her feet and Nathan drew her closer.

  “I didn’t know…” Nathan could hardly get the words out. “You’re in so much danger.”

  “Absolutely not. This shows firefighting is less dangerous beca
use of the precautions we take.”

  He scowled. “Not in my book.”

  * * *

  Annie and JJ were running in the park when JJ’s phone pinged. She kept moving and took it out. “Hmm.”

  They both stopped.

  “What?” Annie asked.

  “Somebody taped Lynne in a fire. Let’s watch.”

  They moved off to the side of the jogging path and Annie hit play. When the flames enveloped Lynne, Annie burst into tears and JJ swore. Fear enveloped them.

  It was over in under a minute, but they were too weak to move. “Thankfully, she’s all right.”

  “It was a close call.” JJ blew out a heavy breath. “Man, I hope Nick doesn’t see this. He’ll flip.”

  “I-t could have been Colin.”

  JJ grabbed her hand. “It could have been any of us.”

  Annie said, “Are we all crazy to be firefighters?”

  * * *

  Brooke and Tess were together in her office at the academy when David barged in. “You have to see this.” He held up his laptop.

  Startled, and a bit disconcerted, Brooke moved to make room on her desk.

  David called up a video.

  When she realized what was happening, Brooke uttered, “No, no. God, no, not Lynne.”

  Tess felt her stomach pitch. “Oh, no, oh no….”

  “She makes it out, love.” This from David. “I should have said so first but I was thrown by it too.”

  “But…she’s consumed by the fire.”

  Bile rose in Tess’s throat. She bolted up and raced out of the room. David followed her. She wretched violently in the nearby bathroom, something she hadn’t done in months. Hanging on to the toilet, she started to weep.

  Brooke was crying when they came back. The danger her best friend had been in was too much too soon after the loss of her husband.

  * * *

  “Don’t talk about this yet.” Zander’s voice was grave when they climbed onto the truck. “I don’t want any comments till we get to see the incident. I asked for the video to be sent to my computer.”