Page 110 of The Night Belongs To Fireman

Chapter 32

San Gabriel was hit hard by the quake, which the United States Geological Survey named the Los Feliz Earthquake, after the neighborhood of its epicenter. Dozens of people were injured, a hundred homes damaged beyond repair. Two overpasses collapsed and much of the city lost power for up to twenty-four hours. But thanks to the dogged efforts of the city’s first responders and emergency workers, no lives were lost. Stories would be told for decades about the neonatal intensive care unit nurses, who carried each tiny patient to safety after a gas leak was discovered at Good Samaritan. Grocery stores handed out food and water, restaurants brewed endless pots of coffee, residents brought blankets and snacks to the overcrowded shelters.

Rachel had never loved her adopted city more.

After making sure she was in good medical hands, Fred reported to duty with the USAR team and spent the next long hours going from one hard-hit neighborhood to another, helping trapped victims and putting out fires.

As soon as Rachel was released from the emergency room, she went straight to the makeshift pet shelter to tend to the panicked animals rescue workers kept bringing in. A news crew showed up, shooting a story for their twenty-four-hour coverage of the earthquake. Recognizing her, the reporter made a beeline in her direction.

Facing the camera, Rachel took a deep breath and embraced her new existence, that of a public person with a meaningful mission. She explained how she was helping the animals and what people should do if they were missing a pet. She offered a list of supplies the shelter needed. When the reporter asked her to spell her name for the camera, she didn’t hesitate.

Rachel Kessler, she told him. San Gabriel resident.

Her father arrived soon after. Since the shelter was a madhouse and terribly stinky, she met him outside, where he leaned against his black sedan. At the haunted look on his face, she burst into tears. He strode toward her, enfolded her into a long, hard hug, and poured out a stream of apologies.

“Stop it, Dad,” she said, finally pulling away and wiping the tears off her cheeks. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“We investigated the Zander family seventeen years ago, but everyone checked out. We should have run a report on the entire police department when you came here. Sneaky rat-weasel.”

“It wouldn’t have made a difference. I bet he joined later, after I decided to stay.”

“Smart girl.” And he hugged her again. “You’re tougher than he is, you proved it. Twice now. Don’t mess with a Kessler. Look at you, safe and sound.”

“Fred deserves a little credit for that too. It’s not every day your office falls on top of you.”

“Sure.” He gave an expansive gesture to include the entire town. “I figured a donation to the San Gabriel Fire Department should do the trick.”

Rachel put her hands on her hips and shook her head at her father. “I had a different idea. I’m going to marry him.”

“Marry him?” The black wings of his eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “That’s going a little far, don’t you think? Marry a fireman?”

“Marry Fred the Fireman,” she corrected. “The fireman I’m in love with. He’s no ordinary guy, you know.”

“I know.” The frown cleared from his face. “At this point, I’m not sure I’d trust anyone else in the world with my daughter. I just hope he knows what he’s getting into.” He winked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re on the willful side. Hardheaded. When you were little, you never did as you were told. Always tearing about the place like a little wild thing. Never could keep you in one place. But I realized something.” He took her by both shoulders and fixed her with that intense, unblinking stare.

“What?”

“I never should have tried.” He shifted his feet, looking nothing like the powerful visionary who’d faced down Congress. “I let you down once, letting you get taken. I didn’t want to fail my daughter again.”

“Oh Dad.” She curled her hand around his forearm, savoring his familiarity, the citrusy scent of his aftershave, the nervous energy he always radiated. “You never failed me. I just need more—”

“You need to live. I see that. You need to reach for the stars and follow your passion and fall in love and whatever the hell else you think of. You’re going to do great things, Rachel, all on your own. Without your paranoid parent. I suppose you’re keeping the fireman around. So be it. Where is he, by the way? I want to thank him personally.”

“He’s …” She gestured at South Harlow Street, which was still eerily empty compared to the usual bustle of midday. “Out rescuing someone or putting out a fire. Being a hero. That’s what he is, even though it’s hard for him to admit it.”

“Hmm.”

“I love you, Dad.”

“Me too, honey. Me too.”

Before they set a wedding date, Fred insisted on one more thing. One night about two weeks after the earthquake, he dragged her to Lucio’s Ristorante Autentico Italiano, the restaurant owned by former fire chief Rick Roman. At an intimate cushioned booth, by the light of a wall sconce adorned with plastic grapevines, sat four women. Baskets of garlic bread and glasses of red wine cluttered the table. The only woman she recognized was Melissa, who stood up and ushered her into the booth.

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