Hero Dad. Marta Perry
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would give him something to do with his hands. She seemed to think he was eventually going to forget that she and her camera were there, but he doubted that would ever happen.
He climbed up on the rig and looked down at her. “Seems like you’re going to have to come up here, too, if we’re going to talk.” He held out his hand.
He could sense her hesitation. Then she nodded, grabbed his hand and let him pull her up onto the rig. She glanced around a little nervously.
“I’m not going to set off any sirens by touching the wrong thing, am I?”
“There’s nothing you can hurt back here. The controls are in the cab.” He grabbed a rag and started polishing the chrome strip. “Fire away.”
He didn’t forget she was there. But he did, oddly enough, begin to forget after a while that she was taking photographs. He polished the chrome, the familiar routine soothing. Julie had an easy, detached way of asking questions while she snapped that had him thinking about what he was saying instead of what she was doing.
“Does it bother Davy that you work such long shifts?”
His polishing slowed, and he turned to frown at her. Once again, he couldn’t see her face because of the camera.
“Do you know that’s the fourth question you’ve asked about my son? I thought this article was supposed to be about firefighting.”
Julie held the camera in place a moment longer, but then she seemed to realize they weren’t going any further until she answered. She lowered it, but her cool gaze didn’t give anything away.
“The story is meant to be about a family of firefighters. Naturally I’m especially interested in the effects of that on the children.”
“Then you should talk with my sister Mary Kate. She has two kids, and her husband’s a firefighter.”
“I plan to. But as a single father—well, you seem to have the more challenging role.”
“I’m not so sure I want my private life included in your article.”
Her expression grew a little cooler. “I need the contrast of work and family life. That’s what the chief agreed to. That’s what your family agreed to.”
She had him there. They had all agreed, but he hadn’t realized she intended to probe into his life in particular.
“I guess we did agree.” He put the cloth down and leaned a little closer to her. He had the sense that she’d have backed up if there’d been any place to go. “Okay. I’ll go along with that, but you have to do something for me in return.”
She eyed him warily. “What?”
“I already mentioned it, but maybe you didn’t realize I was serious. I want you to experience basic safety training. No matter what the chief says, I don’t feel comfortable taking you to a fire scene unprepared.”
She lifted her eyebrows, her green eyes as bright as a forest pond reflecting sunlight. “You wouldn’t be trying to discourage me, by any chance, would you?”
“Certainly not.” Well, not consciously, anyway. “I think it’s important.”
She shrugged. “Fine. I guess if I can go up in a fighter plane for my piece on women pilots, I can do this.”
It sounded as if Julie was tougher than her delicate looks would indicate. “Okay. I’ll put you through the basics until I’m satisfied you know how to handle yourself.”
She leaned back against the side of the rig, studying him. “And in return, I get a chance to photograph you and Davy, right?”
He nodded. “You can start this afternoon, if you want. I’m scheduled to do a fire-safety presentation at Davy’s nursery school. You can come along.”
She looked a little startled. “Is he old enough for nursery school?”
“He turns three next week, so we started him for the fall session. He goes two afternoons a week, and he really loves it.” He wasn’t sure why he sounded defensive about it. He was Davy’s parent, and it was up to him to decide if Davy was old enough for nursery school.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean that as a criticism. I’m not around young children enough to know.”
In that case, it was going to be interesting to watch the cool, detached photographer coping with a bunch of rug rats.
“Then maybe you’d better put on a safety helmet. And some earplugs. Because you’ll be around plenty of them this afternoon.”
The nursery school didn’t really seem as noisy or intimidating as Seth had indicated when they approached it that afternoon.
“This isn’t so bad.” Julie scuffed through the fallen leaves as they walked across the lawn toward the building. Like so much of Suffolk, it was built of mellow old brick. “I don’t hear a single scream.”
“Just wait. You haven’t encountered Davy’s class of preschoolers yet.” He hefted the large duffel bag that apparently contained the gear he needed for his presentation. “I went with them on a field trip to the pretzel factory earlier this month.” He shuddered, grinning. “Not an event I care to repeat.”
“It looks like a nice place.” She was determined to be fair, in spite of her feeling that Davy was too young for nursery school. She nodded toward the bright play equipment scattered across the fenced yard under huge old oak trees.
“It’s the best. Both of Mary Kate’s kids went here.” He hit a button next to the door, waved at the woman inside and then pulled the door open when the buzzer sounded. “Showtime,” he said. “We’re on.”
“What do you mean, ‘we’?” She followed him into a hall decorated with murals and children’s art work. “I’m just an observer.”
“You find it safer that way, don’t you?”
The remark startled her, but before she could find a response, he was opening a classroom door. She followed him in, wrestling with his comment, not sure whether to be insulted or not.
It wasn’t a matter of playing it safe, she assured herself. Her profession required that she be a detached observer—that was all.
The children were seated at low round tables, apparently having a snack, but Davy jumped up at his father’s entrance and raced to him for a hug. She watched his red-gold head nestled next to Seth’s with an odd lump in her throat. Davy was her blood kin, too, but he’d probably never know that.
The teacher, a slender young black woman in jeans and a smock, clapped her hands. “All right, boys and girls. Davy’s father is here to talk to us. Take your places on the rug, please.”
Somewhat to Julie’s surprise, the children did as the teacher directed, gathering in a ragged circle on the braided rug and wiggling like so many puppies as they sat.
She slipped to the side of the group, finding a spot where she’d be out of the children’s line of sight. She sat down, pulling out her camera, automatically calculating the amount of light that poured through the large windows on the side wall.
“Some of you know that Davy’s father is a firefighter,” the teacher said. Davy grinned, obviously proud. “He’s going to show us what to do if there’s a fire.”
Seth sat on the rug. If he was nervous about this presentation, it didn’t show. “Hi, guys.” He pointed to the patch on his uniform shirt. “Like Ms. Sarah said, I’m a firefighter. This patch says that I’m a member of the Suffolk Fire Department.”
She focused the camera on his face, slipping into professional mode. Or maybe not so professional. She didn’t usually dwell on a subject’s easy grin, or the way the light made his eyes look almost gold instead of brown.
Stop it. So he’s an attractive guy. That doesn’t matter.