The Firefighter's Widow

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When it came to trust, she chose poorly.
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Judogeezer
Judogeezer
237 Followers

The widow sat in a small, windowless room just off the chapel where her husband's body lay. The room was reserved for family of the departed who needed respite from well-wishers or a moment to grieve in private. Her hands trembled as she stared at the envelope the fire chief held out to her.

"Roy left this in case he didn't come back from a call." Chief Lundquist laid the envelope in her lap when she failed to reach out for it. "Callie, you know the whole department is here for you. If you need anything, anything at all, call me."

She nodded listlessly, silently. There weren't any tears left. Her only reaction was to fidget with the straps of the purse sitting beside her chair. The Chief gently squeezed her shoulder and returned to the chapel. When he opened the door, a murmur of voices washed over her and then ceased as it closed behind him.

It was the silence that she sought in this family room as the funeral director called it; silence and solitude. It was her guilty conscience that drove her away from her station by his casket. She felt as if every person could see her shame, a shame that was made worse by the sheer number of mourners. Until this moment, she never knew just how much her husband was liked and respected. She would regret for the rest of her life how little respect she had shown him.

It was humbling to see the chapel filled to capacity. Every member of the fire department including retirees was there of course, but so were most of the city's police officers, the city staff and elected officials. Even firefighters from other departments near and far had come to pay their respects while others filled the city's fire stations, covering any calls until the funeral concluded. A steady stream of citizens whose lives had been touched in some way by her husband formed a line that snaked its way around the main room, through the vestibule and out the entryway.

Outside the chapel, a pumper, draped in black, sat with its diesel engine idling. The casket would be placed on the hose bed for the trip to the cemetery. A long line of fire apparatus and police cars trailed away behind it, waiting for the procession.

The widow looked at the envelope as if touching it would sear her flesh. Finally, with a shuddering breath, she picked it up, tore it open and withdrew the single sheet of paper inside.

My dearest Callie,

If you are reading this, the thing that every spouse of a firefighter dreads has come to pass. I have died in the line of duty. I am so sorry this has happened to you. You deserve so much more out of life; things that I am no longer there to give you. Being married to someone whose job requires putting their life on the line has to be one of the hardest thing anyone has to do. I'm so grateful for your unwavering support and for your steadfast love despite my shortcomings. I hope you know that my love for you is absolute and unconditional. You have been the light of my life.

Please take comfort in knowing that I died doing the work I love. I only hope that my sacrifice mattered.

You probably don't want to hear this right now, but it's my only chance to say goodbye. Don't give up on life. You are a wonderful woman. You deserve happiness, children, a home full of love and a partner who makes the rest of your life as incredible as you have made mine. Until we meet again, my love.

Roy

The words were knives being thrust again and again into her heart, the heart she thought numbed with grief. She was not a good woman. She was a horrible woman and the worst kind of partner; one which her husband did not deserve. If only she'd had the courage to clear the air before he left for training, but she wasn't ready.

Roy had been hurt and angry at the way she was treating him. He had put her on notice that they were going to have a long talk when he got back. She was frightened and confused and so wrapped up in herself that she failed to notice him standing at the door, waiting for the goodbye hug and kiss. It was the defeated sigh that woke her up, but too late. All she saw was his back, shoulders slumped, as he trudged toward the Assistant Chief's car parked at the curb. If only...if only.

*****

As Roy drove toward Champaign, he continued to wrestle with what to do about Callie's attitude. Things had been strained for several months. He had tried repeatedly to get her to talk but all she did was make cryptic comments, as if he was the one with some deep dark secret she was waiting for him to reveal. Thinking back, it startled him to realize this had all begun shortly after his promotion.

Things should have gotten better, not worse. As a white shirt, he was on a straight eight to four- thirty, forty hour week. Aside from call-outs, he was usually home by supper time every night; no 24 on 48 off. He'd even given up his side job to spend more time at home with her. Despite that, Callie seemed unhappy and had grown more distant with each passing day.

What really hurt was that he had done everything he could think of to keep this from happening. He knew how hard public safety work was on marriages. They had always talked out their problems before. What was different this time?

Roy shook his head in frustration. He just couldn't make sense of her behavior. When he got back, he'd have it out with her. No excuses this time. The distraction was affecting his performance and that was not a good thing in his profession.

The training was challenging with a good mix of classroom and hands-on. For three days, he could focus on the tasks at hand and put his own problems on a back shelf. It wasn't until the last day when he got back to his room that those thoughts once again occupied his mind.

The sun was just rising as Roy pulled out of the motel parking lot and headed north. It took longer, but he found taking the back roads relaxing when he had to think. He grew up on a farm and never lost his love for wide open spaces and growing things. Fields that had been barren all winter were starting to green up. Just looking at the buds sprouting recalled the carefree days of his youth. He rolled down the windows and took a deep breath. The air was clean and held the scent of freshly turned earth.

At first, the smudge of smoke on the horizon didn't raise any alarms. Roy remembered all the times he had to stand guard over a burning brush pile or the controlled burns to clear weeds out of ditches at this time of year. His dad had been a fanatic about fire safety on the farm which had no small part in Roy's ultimate choice of careers. Still, something nagged at him. He tried to focus on his problems with Callie, but kept glancing at the plume of smoke as he approached its point of origin. He'd almost driven past the lane leading to a distant farmstead when it percolated out of his subconscious. The smoke was the wrong color. A brush pile or ditch full of weeds had plenty of oxygen and produced grey smoke. This smoke was dense and black. Without thinking, he turned onto the lane.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe they were burning down an old outbuilding. He was half way to the cluster of buildings - a farmhouse, barn, toolshed, a couple of silos and a pole building - when he spotted the flames shooting from the farmhouse roof. Stepping on the gas, he sped up the lane spewing gravel as he went. Pulling into the yard, he did a quick fireground assessment and parked his car where it wouldn't interfere with next in units.

A woman was trying to protect the west exposure with a garden hose while a man tried to wrestle a ladder up to a second story window. Flames were not only through the roof but brown smoke was billowing out from the eaves. The structural members were burning. Fishing his cell phone out, Roy dialed 911 and stuck his Bluetooth in his ear.

"911, what is your emergency?"

"There's a farmhouse on fire north of Stattler Road about half a mile east of French Road." Roy spotted the placard nailed to a light pole in the middle of the barnyard. "There's a Fenton Township Fire Protection placard number 47N as in Nora 603."

"We'll have the fire department on the way."

"Tell them there appear to be people trapped on the second floor. Flame is coming through the roof. It looks like the attic is fully involved. Brown smoke is showing. Do you have an ETA?"

"You talk like a firefighter."

"I'm with the City of Rockcreek Fire Department. How long till they get here?"

"Hold on one."

Roy had popped the trunk of his car and started hauling out his turnout gear. The heavy fire-retardant pants were folded down around his boots. All he had to do was step into the boots, pull the pants up and shrug into the suspenders. The heavy coat came next.

"Sir, Fenton Township has all its equipment out on a big brush fire. Mutual aid is about twelve minutes away." The dispatcher's voice crackled through his Bluetooth.

"We don't have that long. The roof could go any minute. I have my turnout gear including a charged SCBA. I'm attempting a rescue." Roy swung the heavy air bottle onto his back and adjusted the harness, pulled on a Nomex hood and donned his helmet.

"Sir, that's not a good idea."

"Yeah. I know."

The couple were so focused on what they were doing that they didn't notice Roy until he ran up to them.

"Who's in the house?"

"Our daughter. She's in her bedroom. We were milking when we saw the flames. By the time we got to the house, the stairs were on fire." The woman continued trying to spray the second floor while she talked. The stream was too weak to do much good. Her husband was still struggling with the ladder. Roy stepped up and helped push it to a second story window.

"Fire and rescue are on the way. Watch for them. What's your daughter's name?"

"Martha. We call her Marti. She's only five." He could see the unspoken plea in her eyes. In clipped tones, Roy instructed.

"Steady the ladder and try to keep flames away from the window." He pulled on his mask, adjusted the straps and took a couple of deep breaths to make sure the regulator was working. Once his gloves were on he started up the ladder.

It was a sturdy ladder, but not designed for this kind of work. His gear weighed over 70 pounds on top of his 220. Roy could feel it bow as he climbed. There was some good luck. The ladder reached to the window sill and the window was open. Thick smoke was pouring out. He wouldn't have to worry about flashover.

Roy punched a hole in the window screen and yanked it out. He shoved it back through the window rather than risk hitting someone below. Crawling through the opening, he was relieved his air bottle cleared the window frame. He could feel the heat radiating off the ceiling even through his protective gear. An unprotected little girl wouldn't last long in this inferno.

Flames in the hallway were barely visible through the smoke. He crawled across the room and closed the door. It might buy them a little more time. Even crawling, he was barely staying under the scalding smoke. Pulling the mask away from his face, he called out.

"Marti! Where are you?"

Even that brief exposure left Roy gasping for breath. From years of experience, he controlled his breathing. If he used up his air, there would be no refills. Staying close to the wall, he felt his way around the unfamiliar room. There were two places kids usually hid; under the bed or in the closet. When he found the bed, he ran his hand up and down the mattress. Feeling nothing on top, he flattened out and swept his flashlight under the bed. Nothing. Crawling around the bed, he found the wall and continued his search. He pulled the air mask back and called out again.

"Marti! Where are you?"

Even the little bit of smoke that managed to fill his mouth and nose resulted in a coughing fit. They were running out of time. Above the crackling roar of the fire, Roy heard a faint tapping to his left. Feeling along the wall, he passed the window and kept going until he found a door. Reaching up for the knob was like sticking his hand in an oven even with the heavy gloves on. Easing the door open a crack, he was confronted by a pair of frightened blue eyes. The closed closet had kept the worst of the smoke and heat away from the child, but she was coughing constantly.

Holding his breath, Roy removed his helmet and air mask. He put the mask over her face and waited for her to take a few breaths. His eyes were stinging as he took the mask back for a few breaths. Putting the mask back on her face, he instructed her.

"Take a deep breath and hold it, sweetheart. My name is Roy and I'm going to get you out of here."

He prepared to drag her to the window. An ominous creaking was the only warning as the fire weakened roof and ceiling crashed into the room. Debris slammed into his body, flattening him to the floor and pinning him from the hips down. The air bottle had deflected most of the debris from his back. Roy looked up and was relieved to see that Marti was safe in the closet doorway. Her eyes were screwed tightly closed and she was still holding her breath. Pressing his mask to her face, he told her to breath.

Roy tried to get to his hands and knees but couldn't shift the wreckage off of his legs. A stab of fear shot through him when he glanced over his shoulder. He was buried two layers deep with a large beam sticking out between the layers. He wasn't going anywhere on his own.

Time doesn't move at the same pace in these situations, but he estimated that he'd been in the room no more than ten minutes. Rescue was still several minutes away. He put the mask to his face and breathed deeply. He took stock. The good news was that the SOB had ventilated itself. Most of the smoke and hot air were flowing out the hole in the roof. The bad news was that the debris now filling the room continued to burn.

A whimper brought his focus back to Marti. Life or death was now a matter of minutes - maybe seconds. Faintly, he could hear a woman screaming in terror. Marti's eyes popped open.

"Mommy?" Roy put his mask over her face and spoke as calmly as he could.

"Sweetheart, help will be here soon. We just need to hold on for a few more minutes. OK?" Marti nodded.

The fire in the wreckage was building now that it had access to plenty of oxygen. With a practiced eye, he made another assessment. Not good. Looking back at Marti's frightened but trusting eyes, he made the only choice he could. Barely able to pull himself up far enough, he hit the quick release on his SCBA. Shrugging the air bottle off, he pushed it toward Marti. It was even harder unfastening the bunker coat. There was excruciating pain in his lower back now. Sweat poured off his forehead and stung his eyes. For a moment, he was afraid the coat was caught in the debris but managed to wrestle it free.

"Marti, hold this against your face." He placed the air mask gently against her face one more time. "Scoot back into the closet. I'm going to cover you up. Just stay put. Help will come." He managed to get the coat over her. The last thing he saw were her pretty blue eyes staring at him through the mask as he closed the door.

Roy collapsed. He was spent. His eyes were shut. Even though he was flat on the floor, the heat was intense. It was like standing too close to a huge bonfire. He could feel the heat broiling his back and searing his airway.

"Sir? Sir?"

At first he thought he was hallucinating from lack of oxygen. Groggily, he realized he was still connected to the dispatcher. Each breath was agony but there were things they needed to know.

"Child alive in closet. I'm buried. Room burning. Expedite rescue." A racking cough almost took his voice away. "Tell Callie...tell her she's the love of my life, always."

As consciousness faded, he could hear sirens in the distance.

*****

A knock on the door failed to rouse the widow. The door opened and the Chief stuck his head in.

"May we come in?" Callie shrugged listlessly.

The door opened further as the Chief ushered a young couple and a little girl into the room. She was about five years old with the liveliest blue eyes. The two men stayed by the door as the mother and child approached. Callie sat motionless with her hands in her lap, staring at nothing. The woman knelt next to Callie and placed her hand atop Callie's.

"I am so sorry for your loss. Your husband was incredibly brave. He.." The woman choked up briefly and tears trickled down her cheeks. "He gave his life for a little girl, for a family he didn't even know. He could have driven on by and no one would have faulted him for not stopping. He was a truly good man."

Callie didn't react until a little hand insinuated itself beneath her mother's. Callie looked up and into those innocent eyes.

"Are you Roy's sweetheart? He called me sweetheart but I know that's what mommies and daddies call each other." A sad smile formed on Callie's face.

"You must be Marti. Yes, Roy was my sweetheart."

"He saved me you know."

"Yes, I know."

"He really loves you. I can tell."

"You can?"

"He said he loves you always."

"He did?" Marti nodded her head gravely.

"Yes. Right before he went to sleep." She looked at Callie with the sincerity only the innocent can manage. "I'm sorry he died. I liked him. Do you miss him?"

Callie had thought she was cried out, but she could feel the all too familiar wetness on her cheeks. The little girl's words reverberated in her head until, suddenly, they shook apart the clouds smothering her thoughts. They were like a ray of sunshine warming her and filling her with a sense of purpose. She had been such a coward. Now was the time to set things right.

"I hope she didn't upset you. Perhaps we should go." Marti's mother looked concerned as she stood.

"No. It's all right." Callie reached out to gently stroke the little girl's face. "I miss him very much, Marti. I always loved him too but I forgot that for a while." Callie looked up at Marti's mother and over at her father.

"If you truly love someone, never let others come between you. Always tell each other the truth and never miss a chance to show them just how much you love them. You just never know."

Callie looked back at Marti and smiled warmly. She wished she and Roy could have had a child like this.

"Thank you for coming, Marti. Roy has given you a great gift. Make sure you make the most of it." Marti gave her mother a puzzled look.

"I'll tell you about it when we get home." Marti's mom rested her hand on Callie's shoulder. "We will never forget him." Callie patted her hand.

"Thank you." Mother and daughter made to leave. They were half way to the door when Marti stopped. She turned and ran back, crawling onto Callie's lap. Marti grabbed Callie in a fierce hug and then kissed her cheek before hopping down and returning to her parents. Callie put a hand to her cheek as if to keep the kiss from fading away.

The chief was ushering the family out when she called to him.

"Dan." He looked back. "Would you tell Lt. Foster and Lt. Chen I'd like to talk to them." The Chief was puzzled that she would refer to them that formally but nodded as he left.

It was only a few moments before the two men appeared. When Callie told them to lock the door, they both broke into grins. Foster swaggered up to her and gave her his best leer.

"You've got the grieving widow routine down pat. You really lucked out, Cal. Now you won't have to go through the hassle of a divorce and you won't have to split any property."

"Yeah, and we won't have to sneak around to play now." Chen piped up. "No one will think twice about a couple of firefighters checking up on a brother's widow."

"When were you going to tell me or did you think you could get away with it forever?" Their grins faded and they gave each other nervous glances as they saw Callie's deadly serious expression.

Judogeezer
Judogeezer
237 Followers
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