Page 17 of A Tinsel Tale

Dee jumps in, “Evie, you have to come. I hardly ever get to a party!”

I shake my head. “No, I think I’ll sit this one out. But Dad you don’t have to miss out on my account.”

“I’m not going unless you do,” he says.Great.

“Well, you’re all welcome to come. Evie, I hope you change your mind. Happy Thanksgiving everybody.” He shoots me a warm glance that goes straight to my belly and then he’s gone. I feel like all the air has been sucked from the room.

Soon after Jamie leaves, Caleb and Dee make moves to follow. Caleb makes several trips to the car to load up and I help Dee put a sleepy baby’s coat on. We exchange hugs and Dad forces leftovers on them.

“Please!” I insist. “It’s just Pops and me.”

When we finally shut the door behind them, I smile at Dad. “I’m exhausted.”

“Me too but it was fun.” We high five each other and laugh. “Good thing Thanksgiving is only once a year,” he says.

“Fact,” I say.

10

JAMIE

After Huxley and I clock in at the station, I dump my duffle bag on my bunk, take off my coat, then head to the kitchen. I unload my cooler full of Thanksgiving leftovers into the fridge. If I know these guys, there’ll be nothing left but crumbs by the end of our shift. They’re animals. Deacon watches over my shoulder. “Sweet! Mama Sue comes through again.”

“Always,” I say. We head to the lounge, and I plop down on the couch and lean back, lacing my fingers behind my head. The guys fill me in on last night’s happenings. We talk about the evidence pointing to arson at the Smiths’ farm. It makes me think about the gate left open at Evie’s and I frown. I know they aren’t even close to the same crime, but it worries me, nonetheless.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around what happened between me and Evie last night… if anything at all. I know we had a moment. It’s possible I made the whole thing up, but the way she’d looked at me, damn, it felt like we’d done a rewind. It was as if the last fifteen years had dropped away, and we were still a couple. She’d looked at me with so much trust in her eyes just like she used to… like she knew I could fix anything. Thank God, I hadn’t let her down is all I can say.

As if reading my mind, Sam says, “Not to change the subject but I saw Evie Parker getting out of her fancy car the other day. Man, that girl is fine!”

“She always was,” I say.

“Thirties look good on her,” he says. “Have you spent any time together?”

“Not really. I’ve run into her… we’ve talked.”

“I guess since she’s a celebrity now she might not give our friend here the time of day,” Deacon jokes. “It’s probably gone to her head.”

“Naw. Don’t think so,” I say. I can’t believe I’m defending her when I actually agree with Deak.

“If she has copped an attitude, a few weeks in the sticks will bring her around,” he says laughing.

Tank chimes in, “She was always a sweetheart. I can’t see that changing.”

I cast a warm glance at Tank.Takes one to know one. He’s always been a softie. Biggest kid in high school, played offensive line, but was a teddy bear at heart. Still my best friend.

I stand up and stretch. “I guess I’ll tackle the inventory and restock.” We’re a little behind on cleaning the equipment and our annual station open house is coming up.

I no sooner begin, when an emergency call comes in. A pre-alert comes through the speakers, then a set of tones that are specific to us. I spring into action and run to my locker to grab my gear. I jump into the passenger seat of the ambulance where Sam waits for me. He flips on the siren, and we haul ass away from the station towards the reported accident, the fire engine right on our tail.

As we near the crash site with sirens blaring, I survey the scene. I see the intersection with a mangled minivan pushed into a corn field. First glance it looks like a truck ran through the stop sign and T-boned the van. We’re the closest responders and therefore the first to arrive at the scene, beating the paramedics. I blast out of the truck like a bazooka. I quickly size up the situation. We’re going to need the jaws of life to get the passengers out of the mangled van. There’s a distraught guy standing on the side of the road talking on his cell, and I assume he is the driver of the Hemi that plowed into them.

“Go talk to the kid, make sure he’s okay,” I bark at Sam as I rush to the van. I peer inside and I see a woman slumped over the steering wheel, unconscious, air bag deployed, and it looks like her legs are trapped under the dash. Then my blood turns cold when I look in the back seat and see a young boy of about five strapped in a booster seat. He appears to be wedged in by the collision. There’s blood pouring from a gash on his forehead and he’s crying.

“Hey, buddy, I’m Jamie.” I wedge my hand through a small opening, and he grips it. “We’re going to get you outta here. Sound good?”

His face is flushed a bright red and mouth wide open on a wail, but he nods. I turn to the fire crew who approach with the spreader and cutter, the generator already powered up. I continue to talk with the terrified kid as they begin the work of extracting his mom.

“What’s your name?”

---