Page 2 of Sparks Fly

“Appreciate the well wishes, I guess, but be honest, I know you think I’m insane. Pigs will fly before Hallie Hunter gives up her shot at chief some day for a mundane suburban family life.”

The captain adds his muted chuckle into the mix, and Hallie tries her best to act equally amused. He’s right; in a way, nothing has ever mattered more to her than chasing her dreams as a firefighter and proving to every male pig in this field that she can do anything just as well as them, if not better. But Hallie can’t ignore the little pang of loneliness that stabs at her lungs through the forced laughter.

She’d never said she didn’t want a “suburban family life” at some point. A wife, kids, the whole nine yards. She’s just never met the right woman. A woman who wouldn’t ask her to give up the mission she’s dedicated her entire adult life to, just because the job can be high risk. She needs someone who would understand what it means to her, someone who could see that leaving the action for a desk job would put out the fire behind her own eyes. So far, a woman like that has been hard to find. Jeff’s wife is a case in point.

“Ah, you know me, Barker. I’ve got too many rookies to babysit to think about starting a crew of my own. I’m raising the next generation in my own way.” Hallie adds a cheesy wink in the hopes she can convince both men that she’s not the teeniest bit jealous of Jeff’s cozy homelife. “Well, sounds like I’ve got a ton of new training exercises to map out. Lord knows Jeff here has been churning out a few softies lately. Will that be all, Captain?”

“Sure, Hunter. We’ll coordinate later in the week. Say Thursday? You can give me a rundown of your plans.”

“Sounds good, Sir.” Hallie offers him a final nod and tries not to let her smile creep too close to the smug side as she throws Jeff a mock salute on her way out.

Sprawled on the floor surrounded by endless sheets of badly scribbled blueprints, Hallie sips on her large glass of pinot noir. The day had slipped by without incident, not one distressed citizen with two legs or four, and she had spent it all dreaming up her own program to train the incoming rookies to her exact standards. She’s going to produce the best crew this department has ever seen. They’ll be the pride and joy of her career to date.

Hell, they’ll be the pride and joy of my whole life to date.

Hallie drowns out the thought with another gulp of wine. She hadn’t been prepared for the hollow disappointment the bare walls of her one-bedroom apartment had seemed to blanket her with the minute she’d walked through the door. Not even the enthusiastic greeting of her twin tabbies made her feel better; they were probably only winding their way round her ankles in the hopes of flirting for an early dinner. Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to shake the image of Jeff chasing a bouncing toddler through the kids’ park at the end of the street, a laughing Jenny watching them from a bench, swollen with baby number two. All of a sudden, Hallie’s life was starting to look like the more mundane option. She’d immediately grabbed the bottle of red from the kitchen counter, half empty from the afternoon she’d spent soaking in the bath yesterday. The highlight of her entire weekend. Alone.

Scraping her fingers through the short hair at the back of her head, Hallie lets out a frustrated groan. This gloomy feeling is raining all over her Probationary Field Training parade, and she’s sick of it. Draining the rest of her glass, she sits up to take an overview of her master plan. Focusing intently on clawing back the pride and satisfaction that had filled her to the brim in the captain’s office this morning, she grabs her phone from the couch behind her and pulls up Pop in her contacts. It rings only twice before his joy-crinkled face fills the screen.

“Hey there, Hallie-Pallie. What’s happening?”

Hallie inhales deeply as her shadowy mood brightens just a bit, a face-splitting grin bringing an ache to her cheeks while her father holds the phone mere inches from his bulbous nose.

“Hey, Pop. Not much, not much. Just planning the most epic PFT course in this station’s history.”

“Well now, isn’t that a headline and a half! No doubt you’ll whip those rookies into shape in no time. Tell me all about it.”

They fall into an easy chatter, the squeeze in Hallie’s chest easing with every new exercise she describes for her Pop’s enthusiastic approval.

“Sheesh, Hallie. What a rodeo! I’m starting to think I’d never have made it through training if you were lieutenant back in my day.”

“Ah, don’t be ridiculous, Pop. I’m only throwing at them everything you ever taught me.” Her chest fills with pride again, but this time not for herself. This gentle giant of a man beaming back at her, impossible to contain within the few inches of phone screen, is the sole reason she ever wanted to be a firefighter in the first place.

Andrew Hunter—Sandy to his nearest and dearest—is the retired chief of the Eureka County Fire Brigade, and Hallie’s biggest hero. Growing up his only daughter, in a county populated by less than two thousand people, she’d always regarded Chief Hunter as something of a legend. Moving to a city ten times the size hadn’t robbed her of that belief in the slightest.

Her gaze settles warmly on the family photo propped up on the shelf above her TV. There’s Sandy, planting a sloppy kiss on the rosy cheek of Hallie’s Ma, Marie, while her head is thrown back, mid-laugh. Then down in front there’s little Hallie, wide grin revealing two missing teeth, and bright blonde pigtails being held above her head like bunny ears by her big brother, Gavin. It strikes her how weedy he looks, barely scraping thirteen, while thirty years later he’s a captain in the raucous Las Vegas District. Two legacy firefighters, smiling like loons on a camping trip with their loved-up parents.

This time the wave of sadness crashes into Hallie faster than she can think to take a breath.

“Whoa there, Pallie. Where’d you go? You look like you’ve been eaten by a black cloud.”

“Huh? Oh no, nothing, Pop. I’m all good. Just got a lot of work to do, you know? I’ll let you go.”

Hallie struggles to maintain eye contact with her father’s concerned frown, sure that he sees right through her hasty cover story. But he doesn’t need to know she’s wallowing in her own self-pity on the day she’s supposed to be celebrating.

Not that he wouldn’t understand.

Mom and Pop spent their twenties in Vegas, like Gavin chose to do a generation later. Pop, the fearless firefighter and Ma, the badass ER nurse. They only ended up moving back to Eureka because Pop’s mom got sick, choosing to start their family once life had slowed right down.

Sure, Hallie knew if she shared her fears with them, that she’d missed her shot at the happy family life because she was too busy chasing the big career, they’d understand. But she isn’t one for family therapy, and she couldn’t bear to resent her parents even a tiny bit for seemingly having everything they’ve ever wanted in life. No, she clamps down on the emotions and forces a big grin, most likely a mere ghost of the one she’d shown when Pop first answered her call.

“Mm-kay, whatever you say. Don’t work yourself to death, hon. We’re here if you need us. Love you.”

“Love you, Pop. Give a kiss to Mom for me. Speak soon.”

She hangs up the phone and sits for a moment, still cross-legged on her living room floor, until the silence begins to close in again.

Screw it, I need another glass of wine.

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