Page 21 of Burned By Fire

9

EMBER

It’s so good to see my old high school friends, and when I’m seated at Vanessa’s table for the meal, I’m glad I brought Sol. Instead of sitting with the single people, I’m with the couples. I was closer to these guys anyway. However, having a career isn’t good enough; you still need a man on your arm too to be included with this crowd.

“What do you do for work, Sol?” Vanessa asks.

I’m about to cut in when Sol raises his hand. “Actually, I’m a retired fireman. I was injured last year.”

“What did you say your surname was again?” Clint asks, narrowing his eyes.

“I didn’t, but it’s Fox.”

“Do you know who this guy is, honey?” Clint says to Vanessa with a happy smile.

“Sol Fox?” she asks, lowering her eyebrows in confusion.

“Try Solomon Fox. He’s the guy from the Armstrong newspaper I was telling you about when we visited your parents. You’re the guy who saved those two children, right?” Clint says.

“If you mean from the private school that burned down, then yeah. That was me,” Sol says.

Vanessa puts her hands together in prayer. “I used to live near that school. I’m honored to be in your presence.”

“You’re a hard man to get a hold of. I’m sorry if it was overstepping the mark, but I got your number from a mutual friend. I’ve left you a few voicemails. I run a mental health charity for men just outside Armstrong that I wanted to talk to you about,” Clint says.

“I haven’t listened to any of those since the accident. I’m surprised it isn’t full.” Sol takes a large drink of his water. Not once has he touched the wine since it was placed on our table, but I can see him eyeing it up now. Under the cover of the tablecloth, I place my hand on his lap.

“I’ve helped lots of guys get back on track with their lives,” Clint says.

Sol squeezes my leg so I know he’s okay. “That must be a rewarding career,” he says.

“It really is. I’m lucky enough to have a rich family who were willing to donate their money to help me set up.”

“He’s underselling himself.” Vanessa rubs his shoulders. “In high school, Clint was the quarterback, and he got the chance to play at an Ivy League college. Unfortunately, he tore a ligament in his knee. When he returned home to Georgia, he was a broken man. He tried therapy and help groups at churches, but none of those things were right for him. The charity brings out the best in him.”

Clint cuts in. “I thought my life was over. Without football, I thought I was nobody.”

Vanessa hugs his arm, and I look at Sol. Clint’s story is similar to his, although the circumstances are completely different.

“I feel for you. Losing the fire service has been hard on me too. Why have you been calling me? What did you want to talk to me about?” Sol asks. He seems interested in what Clint has to say.

The meal is served and looks delicious. We all start to eat.

“My charity is called Moving Forward, and so far, I’ve been working mainly with injured athletes, but I’d like to branch out into ex-service personnel. Men’s mental health is sometimes overlooked. Organizing weekly and monthly events can boost positive thinking, and I’m all about creating a happy mindset. Cycling sessions, soccer games, and 5K runs can really make a difference. I’d like to have someone like you on my team.”

“You don’t even know me. What makes you think I’d be what you’re looking for or that I’d be up to the task?” Sol scrubs his hand over his face.

I think the charity might be good for him, but now’s not the time to voice my opinion. I already have a good feeling about this, and Clint’s a kind man.

“I’m a good judge of character and I did a thorough background check. Your local fame and personal story will help you gain trust with others. Like me, people will connect with your life experiences. Here’s my card if you want to know more.” He gets out his wallet and hands over a Moving Forward business card.

“Thanks.” Sol smiles.

We listen to the wedding speeches and toast the happy couple. They have their first dance and then coffee is served.

“What do you say to a dance?” I ask Sol.

“What a great idea. Come on,” Vanessa says, pulling her husband to his feet.

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