Jonah's Return (Detroit Heat Book 3) (12 page)

My heart rate jumped, "No, Jonah. He's not going to retaliate." I tried to put as much sarcastic bite into my words as possible. "And do you really want to talk about carrying bad blood from one job to the next? If so, you came to the right person. Do you think the shit that happened at Engine 37 disappeared when I moved to HQ?"

"Shit, Abbey. I wasn't trying to say—“

Jonah got me on a roll, and it wasn't going to be easy for me to stop. "I know what you were trying to say. I wouldn't want things to be
hard
for you. I wouldn't want you to have to go from a hostile work environment to working with ‘little terrors’ as you called them. God, Jonah, how long will you last at this job until you ask for a transfer? Until one of the kids reminds you too much of Havens, or until you realize just how much you don't like children?"

Despite my anger, Jonah had a smile on his face, "That's the thing. I had a great time today. What I said earlier about the kids, that was just nerves and me being stupid. I can admit when I'm stupid, I do it often enough. Those kids were fantastic. Abbey, I know this morning it sounded like I would never want to have kids, but you just caught me at a bad time."

I mimicked Jonah and rubbed a hand across my forehead. I was so tired of people telling me what they thought I wanted to hear. If Jonah had told me the truth, I might have respected him a little bit more. The relationship might not have done well, but I would have respected his honesty. At that moment, the last thing I wanted was more sweet bullshit spewed from his mouth.

"Look, what you said this morning… Maybe there is more truth to it than you give yourself credit for. I know it's way too early to be talking about kids; I know that. But at the same time, it's
there
. It’s there inside me, and now it's out in the open between us."

I knew I hurt him, but maybe he needed it. I watched a smile fade from Jonah's face, "What you saying?"

I remember asking him the same question when he began his breakup speech. I remember the twisted, knotted feeling in my chest. "I don't know what I'm saying. I'm not saying we should quit, but I know what you want, and I know what I want."

The two of us stood in the stabbing silence at my doorstep. I was out of words. The thought of things ending so quickly after they began was terrible, but I didn't know if we could get through something like this. Kids had never come up the first time we dated. Maybe they should have.

Jonah’s had hung down. He didn't look at me when he spoke, "Well, fuck, I don't know. We’ll…we’ll talk later, I guess." He turned and walked away.
 

I watched him go, wishing hard that I could find the right words. Maybe there were no right words. I was glad we didn't end things right there at my door. Even if things were bad, a night to think about everything would be good for both of us. As Jonah turned the corner and disappeared out of sight, I wrestled with the emotion building up inside of me.

I was mad at Jonah, I was furious with Havens, but most of all was pissed at myself.
 
Turning inside before the world could see my tears, I closed my front door.

Wednesday dragged by like an old mule. I sat in my office with the door closed and waited for each hour to pass. I couldn’t focus on anything but Abbey. Had I really fucked things up? Me and my big mouth. Trying to rationalize things, I told myself that I never would’ve said those things if I knew how Abbey felt. I would’ve chosen my words more carefully. Perhaps, but what would I have said when kids were brought up for real?

Two days before, I probably would’ve made some stupid joke. It would’ve gone over like dog shit. After facing my fears and spending time with children, though, the story would’ve been different.

Kudos to her for speaking her mind, but if Abbey would have let me tell her about my day at the elementary school, things would have been different. The stress of my job was nonexistent when I came back that day. Those kids didn’t suck my energy like I thought they would have. Instead, they
gave
me energy. They may be excited about what I did and excited to share with them.

When I wasn’t thinking about Abbey, I was trying to imagine what it would be like to raise a child of my own. It was hard to picture. I wanted to believe that it wouldn’t be hard to raise a child with good morals and ideals, but there were so many variables. They really were like sponges, and one wrong move could do years of damage or undo years of hard work.

Even after thinking about it all day, I was surprised to find that the fear wasn’t there. Nerves, sure. But the crippling fear that would have stopped me from doing it was nonexistent. It was hard to feel good about that when I felt so bad about things between Abbey and I. It felt like one step up and two steps back.

With another elementary school to visit on Thursday, at least I had a distraction. Larger than the first school, this one was four stories tall and much closer to downtown. I still felt a little bit jumpy about my speech, but after my experience at Bennett, I knew that I would enjoy myself.

It would be the same as Tuesday; large presentation in front of the whole school and then Q and A in smaller classrooms. I didn't know where I stood with Abbey, but at least I had something to look forward to.

Standing in front of them, seven hundred students didn't look much bigger than four hundred. Mr. Huntsman gave his introduction, and then he introduced me. Maybe all the schools at a similar plan in place, because the kids greeted me just like the first school. I didn't stumble through the very beginning this time.

It was just like the other school. The kids were hooked to every word. The job was so easy when the kids were interested. Hands flew up every time I asked the question. I couldn't ask for a better group, and I made sure to tell Mr. Huntsman that once I left the stage.

Things were going great, and I was beginning to fall in love with my job. Maybe things were too great, and karma had to get me. I was in the third classroom when it happened.

After years on the department, I had a nose for smoke. I could tell the difference between someone burning sticks, a house fire, or a vehicle fire. Hell, I could tell what type of wood was being burned in a campfire.

The hint of smoke teased my brain on the way to the third classroom, but it was so slight I disregarded it as something that had just come in through the windows. In the classroom, I had just pulled out my helmet to show the kids when the fire alarm went off.

I kicked myself for not listening to my instincts. In an instant, all of my senses became superhuman. I visualized the building and all of the people inside. We were on the third floor; each hallway had about eight classrooms with thirty kids in each room per floor.

I was surprised to see all the children stand up in an orderly fashion. Everybody looked to the teacher, including myself.
 

She stood up and gave a reassuring smile. "All right children, we’ve practiced this many times. You know what to do."

The children all push their chairs in and began to form a line. At apartment complexes and shopping centers it was mayhem, but the children were making the evacuation look professional and problem free.

Besides the teacher, I was the last one to leave the room. More orderly lines of children were filing down the stairs in the hallway. They were quiet and calm. The smell of smoke had grown, and I knew was coming from inside the building. My eyes weren't stinging, and I couldn't see anything in the air, yet, but that didn't mean anything.

"I'm going to check on the fourth floor," I called to no one in particular. I don't know why, but something was driving me up to the top floor of the school. I ignored my instincts once, and I wasn't going to do it again.

Running past children filing down the stairs, I heard an adult calling out somewhere on four. "Please!"

I took the steps two or three at a time, trying to hone in on the voice. Most of the students were already in the stairwell, and the fourth floor hallway was nearly empty. One older woman stood outside of a classroom door, and she screamed when she saw me.

"Thank God, I have a student in a wheelchair. I can't carry her down the stairs, and the elevator shuts off when the alarms go off. Please, help." She ran back into her classroom, not even waiting for me to reply.

The teacher didn't have to wait for me to reply. I kicked into gear and ran for the classroom. The teacher was pushing the student towards the front of the room when I came through.

I crouched down to be eye-to-eye with the little girl. "Hi there, my name is Jonah. I'm gonna help you downstairs, okay?" I gave her my best and most confident smile. I'm sure she was terrified, and anything I could do to calm her down would help.

I turned to the teacher, "Don't worry, I'll get her. Get going." The older lady heard the command my voice, nodded, and left the room.

The little girl in the chair was whining, and she covered her ears to block out the blaring alarm. I fed my right hand beneath her knees, "Okay, lean forward for me.” After she did, I reached behind her. "I'm gonna pick you up now, and then working to get out of here."

She nodded, her hand still over her ears. Her eyes were all over the room, and I wondered if she had a learning disability. As the smoke smell got stronger, I shut my mind off to anything but getting her out.

As I carried her down the hallway, I saw the first inklings of smoke in the stairwell. It wasn't thick yet, but I turned around, anyway. At the far end of the hall was a second set of stairs behind a fire door. I could almost see the layout of the building in front of me. There was the main set of stairs leading up the center of the building. They were wide, able to handle hundreds of students at a time. The second set of stairs was narrow and probably only led outside.

I ran for the small set, hoping the fire doors were shut the entire way down and it was smoke-free. Backing into the door, I shoved it open, careful to keep the little girl study in my arms. The smoke smell was strong, but nothing was visible. We began to descend.

At the third-floor landing, I reached towards the handle, feeling for heat.

"No!" The little girl wailed.

"Don't worry, were not going out this way." There was no heat coming from the handle, so I cracked the door to check the situation on three. Gray but thin smoke ambled along the ceiling. I let the door close and headed downwards.

The smoke got thicker and stronger with each step, and halfway between one and two I had to start crouching forward to stay out of it. The little girl was coughing in my arms, and I held her face to my chest as best I could. I prayed to God that the stairs led outside.

The landing to the first floor only let inside, and a hint of doubt struck me. The stairs continued down, and I had no choice. I leaned against the wall, sliding down slightly. After a deep breath, I headed down the stairs past the first floor.

As the smoke got thicker, I knew there were only two ways it could end. A door on the right would lead to the basement and probably the seat of the fire, and a door to the left would lead outside. Holding the girl up with one hand, I ran the other one across the wall, feeling for any opening. A door, window, anything would do.

My heart was surging, willing my body forward with adrenaline and duty. The smoke burned my eyes, and I closed them. I was still searching with my hand, but blind. The wall fell away from me. I felt metal, and when my hand sank down I found a crash bar. Wrapping my free hand around the little girl, I backed into the door hard.

The stinging in my eyes wouldn't let me open them, but I could feel the heat of the sun on my face. I coughed and took in a deep breath of fresh air. I ran my hand back beside me and felt concrete. It was cool to my touch. I followed it, begging my eyes to open, despite the stinging tears.

I forced them open just in time. Stairs that led up to the playground nearly tripped me up. I heard the door closed behind me and I turned around, looking up at the building for the first time. Windows to the left and right of the stairwell and smoke oozing from them. I heard the first sirens.