CHAPTER THREE
Roderick leaned forward, staring at the squares lit up on the television screen. It was phrase, six words, and there were only three letters found. There was only one ‘r’ and the contestant had bought an ‘e’. There five ‘e’s.
“This one is tough Ms. Martin,” he said frowning at the screen. She laughed and shook her head.
“You’re The Apple of my Eye.” Roderick stared at the screen then back at the older woman. Five spins later, the contestant got the puzzle as well.
“No way,” he frowned. “Is this show a rerun. Are you cheating me out of my quarters, Ms. Martin?” The old woman laughed, her loose dentures causing a hissing sound when she did.
“Son, I was a high school English teacher. Don’t test my knowledge,” she laughed. Roderick stood and shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well, I have to get back to the station, Ms. Martin. Thank you for the banana bread. I’ll be sure to share with the team at the station house. Did you need anything else?”
“No, no,” she said shaking her head. “I’m just fine. I appreciate the company Roderick, truly. You’re a good young man.”
“Obviously not as good as you,” he chuckled rubbing his shaved bald head.
Roderick was part of the Creole population of south Louisiana.
His heritage was a mix of African, Spanish, French, and Caribbean.
He knew that women found him attractive but he never once used that to his advantage. He was raised better.
His honey-golden skin, amber eyes, and tall lean body was appealing to most females. The problem for Roderick was that he didn’t want ‘most’ females. He wanted one and only one and until that one came along, he would remain single.
“I’m off tomorrow, Ms. Martin but I’ll come by the day after,” he said giving her hug at the door.
“Don’t rush to me,” she said waving him off. “I got my Roderick fix, I’ll be just fine for a few days.”
He just laughed, waving at her as he got into the department’s red pick-up truck. Mike knew that he often took it to visit the elderly on the fringes of their district. He saw it as an act of community service and encouraged all of the men and women to do it if they felt the need.
By the time Roderick returned to the station house, dinner was prepared and being placed on the table. A huge pot of goulash. The smell of the smoky paprika and tomato sauce made his stomach growl involuntarily.
Walter was the chef today. He’d made it with a Cajun twist. Instead of just ground beef, he used a combination of beef, venison, pork, and ground andouille sausage. It was a fan favorite.
Hot loaves of French bread were taken from the oven and the team sat for a well-deserved meal together.
“How was Ms. Martin?” asked Jeremiah.
“She’s good,” laughed Roderick. “That woman is solid upstairs. She beat me in every damn game we played. Legally. Did y’all know she was an English teacher?”
“I did,” snorted Gus. “She failed me in tenth grade. Man, I hated that woman. Then she volunteered to tutor me so I wouldn’t have to go to summer school. I had to sit with her for an hour three days a week after school and retake the exam.”
“And?” smirked Walter. Gus laughed, shaking his head.
“I made an ‘A’. After that, I went to her all the time if I needed help. She changed me and I’ll never forget it.” Roderick nodded at his friend, smiling.
“She’s pretty cool but she’s damn sure lonely,” said Roderick.
“I’ll make sure to check on her when you can’t,” said Gus. “I meant to go by there sooner. She still looks exactly the same to me but then again maybe that’s my way of trying to stay young.”
When they’d filled their bellies and the leftovers were carefully put away, the team split up the dish duty and cleaning the counters and stove. No one escaped keeping their place in tip top shape.
As fire departments go, theirs was quiet for the most part. They only received a few night calls and most of those were about gas pains, strange noises around their property, or just being lonely and scared. No one minded those calls at all.
When their shift was finished at 0700 the next morning, they reviewed the logs with incoming team and left for home.
Part of their compensation was that anyone who wanted to live near the station was given a cottage similar to those found at Belle Fleur.
Most of them accepted, only a few choosing to drive the distance back into New Orleans where the nightlife and bar scene was livelier.
Those people were younger and still desiring that kind of life.
It was not something everyone else wanted.
The little cove where the twenty-five cottages sat was peaceful and quiet. There was a dock where several small boats were parked. Many of the firefighters enjoyed fishing on their day off and having a dock right outside their door was like opening a candy store for children.
For others, it was just a peaceful place to watch the sunrise and sunset on their front porches.
Roderick was in full-on decorator mode. He’d painted the interior of his cottage and was now working hanging paintings that his own grandmother had done years ago.
The cottage had come furnished with masculine leather furniture, dark wood side tables and coffee table, and simple black iron and wooden bar stools for the long island that stretched the entire length of the kitchen.
He’d been so caught up in decorating, he’d lost track of time. When the light inside the cottage dimmed, he frowned, wondering if a storm was coming in. Instead, he laughed at himself noticing the time.
“Damn,” he laughed. “I guess that’s a good sign.”
With his gear ready for the next mornings’ shift, he showered, crawled into bed and slept like a baby. This was the life he’d always prayed he would have.
He woke at 0600, poured his coffee and scrambled four eggs and two links of chicken sausage. By the time he’d finished, it 0640 and he was out the door for the five-minute drive to the station.
“Today is going to be a great day,” he grinned to himself.
“Hey, Roderick!” yelled Jeremiah. “Call just came in from Mr. Sampson. He says Ms. Martin is in her chair on her porch.”
“Okay. So?” he smirked.
“Brother, she’s not moving.”