Page 38 of Love on the Brain
Noah turned his head ever so slightly to peek at Cruz. “I don’t like ambah-lances.” His voice wavered.
“I can understand that,” Cruz said. “Wanna know a secret?” Noah nodded. “I don’t like them either.”
Noah lifted his head and looked at Ryan, who shrugged. He knew where this story was going, but he’d let Cruz tell it. “But … it’s your job.”
“It is. Why don’t you come inside out of the cold? We’ll show you around and then I’ll tell you the story over cookies. How does that sound?”
Noah twisted to look at Jane. “If Mommy comes, too.”
Jane opened her mouth in surprise, then nodded. “Of course.”
Ryan was impressed with Noah’s perception. When had he picked up on Jane’s feelings?
They followed Cruz around the back of the ambulance, and he opened the doors. Inside, his partner sat on the bench. She was older, around their parents’ age, with a kind face and twinkly blue eyes.
“I’m Captain Bennington, but you can call me Sue. How’re you doing today, Noah?”
“Better,” Noah replied. Ryan shifted him and set his feet on the bumper, holding him securely but loose enough to allow him to move into the vehicle if he chose to.
“That’s good to hear,” Cruz said. “How about we show what all this stuff is for? Then, if you want, you can sit up in the fire engine and press some buttons. And after that, there are cookies in the kitchen.”
“I like pressing buttons.”
Noah remained leaning against Ryan for the duration of the ambulance tour but slid to the ground when it was time to explore the fire engine. When he felt the little hand in his, Ryan held on tight.
Cruz led them to the front of the rig closest to the ambulance. “We have three different fire trucks here. This one is the engine. It’s got water and hoses and basic equipment. Next to it is the ladder truck. That big ladder on top uses hydraulics to go up super high. And the last truck is for rescues. It has specialized equipment to break through buildings and cut metal and all kinds of stuff.”
“Whoa.”
“You wanna go up?”
Noah nodded. Cruz climbed up and opened the door, then slid over to the passenger seat. “All ready for you, Noah.”
Noah glanced over at his mom. Jane nodded her permission, and he let go of Ryan’s hand. With the agility of a cat, he climbed up and into the truck. “This is cool.”
“Press here to sound the air horn,” Cruz said, pointing to a button. “And here for the siren.”
“I don’t like sirens,” Noah said.
“Sirens are important,” Cruz said. “They save us time. It’s a signal for people and cars to get out of our way so we have a clear path to the fire or person in trouble or the hospital.”
Noah was quiet for a minute as he ran his hand around the wheel, then pressed his palm to the horn button. It blared loudly, and Noah jumped from the noise. “That’s so loud.” He giggled.
Ryan studied Noah as he stared at the siren button. Jane stood beside him and moved closer as Noah’s fingers reached for the siren button. It wailed, and Jane grabbed onto Ryan’s arm.
“Sorry!” Jane shouted over the noise. As she let go, Ryan captured her hand in his and gave a light squeeze.
“Noah, that’s good, honey!” she called up to him, still holding Ryan’s hand.
Noah jerked his hand away from the steering column and turned his head to look at them. His face scrunched in anguish, but Ryan could see he was struggling not to cry. This time, it was Jane squeezing his hand.
Could it really be possible that a toddler could hold onto and reference the memory of when he was last in his father’s arms? Or had he heard the story so many times, his mind filled in the gaps and told a narrative of its own?
Either way, the little boy was struggling internally. Instinctively, Ryan slipped his hand from Jane’s and climbed up onto the step. Noah slid into his arms. “I’m done. Can we have cookies now?”
“Sure,” Ryan said.
Noah rested his head on Ryan’s shoulder, and they waited for Cruz to secure the truck. “You can hold Mommy’s hand again if you want. It might help her not be scared of the sound.”
