“I can keep calm in dangerous situations, Chief. I didn’t work in a control tower because I was a dizzy broad. I’m used to keeping my head despite difficult circumstances,” she argued coolly.
“I guess we’re going to find that out, aren’t we?” he railed. “Well, come with me. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying for the next twenty-four-hour period. You get one day on and two days off on the summer schedule. And remember, it’s coed. I don’t have to build you a separate bathroom or shower, Stevenson. You want to enter a man’s world and our job, then you’re gonna use the same facilities we do. Understand?”
Leah picked up her purse. “Yes, sir.”
Anders showed her the upstairs portion of the firehouse, which was fitted with army-type bunks. The sleeping quarters had stairs as well as the standard fire pole to slide down. At the other end were lockers where civilian clothes could be stowed while the fire fighters were on duty. The chief halted in the middle of the highly polished oak floor.
“You get into uniform and then come down to the office when you’re done,” he ordered. He dug in his pocket, thrust a badge into her hand, and then stalked off.
“Yes, sir.” After a quick look around, Leah was relieved to find that all the on-duty firemen were downstairs in the kitchen. The only room that offered a measure of privacy was the bathroom. It was a small area housing two shower stalls, a sink with a cracked mirror above it, and a urinal. Leah slipped into her light blue shirt and navy blue slacks and pinned on the silver badge that Anders had given her. Her fingers lingered over it and she felt warm with pride.
Only officers wore gold badges; the rest of the fire fighters wore the silver ones, indicating their lesser rank. Leah smiled to herself: a silver badge distinguished her as part of the hardworking crew. She would be hauling hoses and ladders, scaling roofs with a hose and fire ax or whatever else was deemed necessary. Normally, the officer directed the fire fighting with his portable radio, but didn’t get personally involved. Nonetheless, she didn’t minimize the officer’s duties. In the end, her life was in his hands. If the officer was a poor one, he could get her killed by ordering her into a situation that was dangerous or unstable. No, a good officer was someone she would go to hell and back for, and she wondered if they had anyone here of the caliber of the instructors down at the Ohio Fire Academy. After hanging her clothes in the only available locker, she shut it and went downstairs.
Leah stopped at the gleaming red door of the chief’s office and knocked politely.
“Enter,” Anders growled through it.
She opened it, almost bumping into another fireman, who was standing just inside the entrance. Fragmented impressions hit her senses. He was an officer—she could tell that by the gold badge displayed above the left breast pocket of his shirt. She was aware of height and broad shoulders. It struck Leah that he looked as if he could easily carry the weight of the world around on them if he chose. She noted the intensity of his blue eyes as he quickly perused her upturned face. Leah somehow got through and closed the door, stepping away from the officer, who remained to her left.
“Stevenson, this is Lieutenant Gil Gerard. You’re being assigned to his crew.”
Leah’s mouth went dry as she turned, her hand extended. “Lieutenant, a pleasure to meet you.”
The officer inclined his head and clasped her hand. “Same here,” he intoned, his voice low and somewhat husky.
Leah’s arm tingled pleasurably. She was aware of the controlled strength of his grasp, of the rough texture of his fingers and the calluses on his palm. She forced a brief, businesslike smile to her lips and broke contact.
“Gil, take her around and show her the ropes,” Anders said, scowling heavily. “And remember what I told you…”
Gil pursed his mouth and opened the door, motioning her out. “Right, Chief.”
Leah glanced up, waiting for him to close it again. She was impressed with his height and excellent physical condition. She guessed that, like herself, he worked out with weights or jogged to stay fit. That discovery made her feel an immediate camaraderie with him. It was something she shared in common with someone here at the firehouse. Lifting her chin, Leah realized he was standing quietly beside her, watching her with veiled curiosity. She met his dark blue eyes and felt heat rising from her throat into her face.
“What do you like to be called?” he asked, walking slowly down the narrow hallway.
She wanted to be flip and answer: I’ve been called just about everything, but you can call me Leah if you want. She fought the urge. She didn’t dare allow humor into this tense situation. Above all else, she wanted to be accepted by the fire fighters. She couldn’t afford to hurt anyone’s feelings at this point. She had learned through harsh experience to be a shadow—seen but not heard. Otherwise the men reacted strongly and negatively to her presence. It was part of the price she paid for deciding to become a woman fire fighter.
“Most people call me Leah. My nickname down at the academy was Cat.”
He tossed a glance over his shoulder. “Is that because you have pretty green eyes?” he asked, a slight smile hovering around his mouth.
Confused, Leah suppressed her own smile. Why was he treating her so nicely? Anders had made it clear that no one welcomed her here—why should Gil Gerard be different. The officer appeared to be in his early thirties, a confident man with an open, readable face. She liked his features: He had black hair, intelligent eyes, a strong nose, and a rock-solid jaw. More than anything, Leah found herself liking his mouth. It wasn’t thin or thick but mobile, expressive, with the corners lifting, indicating that he smiled a great deal. She gave a sigh and her shoulders dropped slightly. In her heart she knew that the officer she was assigned to would either make her or break her.
Meeting Gil’s interested gaze, she realized she still owed him an answer to his question. “I got tagged with that down at the academy because on night exercises I could see hot spots before anyone else. They said I had eyes like a cat, so it stuck. I’d rather be called Leah, though.”
Gil nodded, pursing his mouth. He halted at the bay, putting his hands on his lean hips. “It pays to have good night vision,” he agreed amicably. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to our ladies here in the bay and then show you where we spend most of our time when we aren’t polishing the engines or the floors.”
He missed nothing in proudly showing her the “ladies.” Most fire fighters referred to the trucks as female. The self-contained breathing apparatus, or MSA air paks, were resting on specially constructed steel braces behind the drivers’ seats. When the alarm went off, whoever was assigned to get into air paks would leap into the “jump seats,” slip the gear over their shoulders, belt up, and donning air masks, ready to enter a burning building by the time they arrived on the scene. The air pak enabled a fire fighter to work in a smoke-filled structure without being overcome by the noxious atmosphere or deadly fumes.
Leah caressed the shiny lime fender of one Darley engine with her long, slender fingers as Gil stopped near the front of it. He patted the truck affectionately. “You’ll soon find out we have names for all these gals.”
“And a few curse words, I’ll bet,” she added, smiling hesitantly. There was something about Gil that made her feel safe about letting down her guard and allowing a little bit of her private self to show.
“Well, we have Lady here, and naturally, she is one. She behaves real well no matter what the weather conditions are or how sticky a situation gets at a fire scene.” He walked over to the second pumper. “This one we call the Beast because she always gives her driver a problem. A real cold starter. Won’t cooperate with you at all if she’s throwing one of her fits.” He grinned, his teeth white and even against his darkly bronzed skin. “Just like some women.”
Leah shrugged. “Maybe she just needs a more gentle touch…a little more understanding,” she said hesitantly.
One