Page 49 of A Hard Habit to Break

Closed off in her bedroom, she had hunted through her chest of drawers until she located an ancient radio receiver.Quickly, she’d tuned into the emergency dispatch frequency. Though separate from the encrypted tactical channel fire firefighters used on-scene, there were intermittent CAN reports that addressed ground conditions, actions taken, and additional needs, without disclosing sensitive health information of the victims. She heard mention of a propane tank explosion in Service. The blast had ignited a trailer home. Narrow streets and limited access to hydrants compounded containment. A flashover to neighboring units. And a rapid spread to the surrounding forest. Hours struggled by as the temperamental contraption cut out at crucial moments, picking up adjacent noise from other scanners nearby. So far, nothing about the firefighters had reached her ears. Nothing about Noah.

Rachel raised the single window, removed the screen, and climbed out onto the tin roof. So, here she sat, her childhood escape, with Noah’s sachet of hair tucked against her heart and a direct view of Calvary land in front of her.

“Come back… to me,” she whispered.

One glimpse would be enough. She’d catch the dancing headlights of his truck coming across Cattail Creek and grab hold of that thread of peace. She wouldn’t go to him. Breathing the same air, in and out, she would sense through the chasm in her heart the piece she’d left with him always, his vitality, his strength.

He wasn’t home.

One, two, three, four thuds, rapid and rhythmic on Rachel’s bedroom door, jarred her on her rooftop perch, where she sat, knees drawn up to her chest. She jumped, startled by the intrusion. Her foot slipped, her legs going into an impressive split for the thirty-something cheerleader tryouts.

Placing both hands on the tin roof, she stabilized her limbs, achy from sitting in one spot for hours, ignoring the hammering between her ears. “Shoot. Shoot. Shoot.”

The door opened as she lowered one foot, then the other, to the floor. Bethany stepped into her room, the sweet scent of candied fruit following on a confectioner’s cloud. Rachel watched as Bethany cast glances at the iGen-circa-2010 teenage relics she’d repeatedly reorganized while listening to the scanner: alphabetized CDs, restacked Abercrombie & Fitch sweaters, and last and by far the most regrettable, a shoebox of Netflix DVDs still in the customized red envelope mailers.

Sorry, Dad.The late fees must have cost more than her first year of college tuition.

“Ah, hi. I was thinking I should probably feed my family before I jump into my rebuttal to the mayor’s argument that thirty-five miles is a reasonable drive for basic medical services. Care to join us? Benji’s downstairs.”

The last part she added as a bonus offer, in case Rachel declined the food offer.

Rachel chuffed. “That’s if you can get down the mountain in a snowstorm or torrential rain, and traveling two lanes into Whynot from Service during tourist season can take up to two hours.”

“Exactly,” Bethany laughed. “You get it and you’ve been away for five years.”

With that Rachel quieted. “Noah will help our mayor see reason. Pete’s been in a bromance with him since we were six.” With Noah in danger, Pete’s behavior at the game fell off any and all priority lists. She needed her energy to force Noah by sheer will back to his cabin beside the plunge pool… to their spot.

“Hmm, that’s an interesting proposal, indeed.” Bethany laughed, quiet and classy, which Rachel noticed was her default setting. “If you don’t want dinner,” she paused, “I want you to know you can talk to me.”

Surprised, Rachel leaned back, the slight movement creating distance. Was it obvious that not knowing whether he hadall the right equipment, or if his fellow firefighters had his back, was pushing her to the brink? Rachel needed to see his eyes, touch his skin, and feel his heartbeat. Could he sense that she was… waiting, praying? “Why do you think I need to talk?”

The radio she’d brought through the window with her crackled.

“Well, I know what it’s like to worry about those you care about.”

“Worried?” she shrieked, wiping trembling hands down her thighs. “I’m nosy. That’s all.”Liar. Liar. Sweaty palms on fire.

“I saw your face when Noah and the guys were called away.”

Rachel’s shoulders slumped. “What they do is dangerous.”

“True enough. And our hearts ache… the uncertainty of life for a first responder… it’s hard on a family.”

“You’re speaking from experience?”

Bethany didn’t take offense. Instead, she pointed at the spindle-back chair slid beneath her faded white desk.

“May I sit?”

Rachel shrugged. “Sure.”

Bethany turned the chair to face the bed and all but collapsed her weight into the unpadded wooden chair.Whoa.Perhaps planning a wedding while negotiating with the likes of Pete Judelson had zapped her energy. Knowing Pete, the snake in the garden, he manipulated with one hand while bearing sugar cookies in the other.

“You okay?” Rachel asked, before questioning the personal nature of her inquiry.

“Fine,” Bethany sighed. “Too many late nights, I suppose.” She soon recovered and waited till Rachel positioned herself at the foot of her bed. “I’m not sure how much you know of my past.”

“My dad…” Rachel rolled her eyes heavenward. “Hedoesn’t share much with me. To him, his job is to protect me from everything, including information.”