Chapter 16 #2
“Cody!” he shouts as if he’s surprised when we just talked five minutes ago to confirm I was swinging by to pick him up.
Emberleigh greets me from behind the counter. “Can I send you off with anything?” She waves her hand down the glass case.
“Tempting.”
“You’ve gotta try the strawberry cream thing,” Dustin says.
“It’s a Chantilly cream puff,” Emberleigh says.
“Sounds girly,” Dustin says. “But it’s amazing.”
“Most girly things are,” I say with a chuckle.
Emberleigh turns, grabs a pink bakery box and pops a cream puff into it. I grab for my wallet.
“On the house,” she says.
“Well hello, boys,” Betty Faye Holt says from behind us. “What a treat to run into you two.”
“Hey, Mrs. Holt,” Dustin says to his landlady.
“Now, Dustin, we’re practically family. I told you to call me Gran.”
“I know … Gran.”
The way he says it is like trying on a shirt that’s two sizes too small.
“And how are you these days, Cody?”
“Just fine, ma’am.”
She studies me and I feel like she can see straight through me. I wouldn’t be surprised if some part of my face told her I was cozied up with Carli in the front of my truck a few nights ago. I glance away and shift lightly on my feet.
“Mm hmm. I’ll say,” she says, confirming my worst nightmares. Not that she actually knows. But the seniors around here have honed their ability to read people like it’s a science and they’re up for the Nobel prize.
“We’d better get going,” I tell Mrs. Holt.
“Off to Waterford Elementary?” she asks.
“Yep,” Dustin says without flinching. “Local Hero Day.”
“Don’t forget the cookies!” Emberleigh says, ducking into the back of the bakery and emerging with two large rectangular bakery boxes.
“We’re bringing cookies?” I ask Dustin.
“Yeah. We’ve got to show up the policemen. They’ll come empty-handed.”
Dustin leans across the counter near the cash register and gives Emberleigh a quick kiss goodbye. Then we’re on our way to the school.
We pull into the school parking lot and park in the fire lane so we’re positioned for the kids to explore the truck at the end of our visit.
The cafeteria is buzzing with volunteers, administration and a few teachers’ aides. Student volunteers are introduced, we’re all given visitors badges, and then we’re escorted to our classrooms.
“They’re very excited,” the assistant principal tells us as we walk down the hallway.
I can’t quite read her expression, but I’ve experienced excited elementary students before. They’re a force to be reckoned with.
As soon as the classroom door swings open, the kids, who are all sitting cross-legged on carpet squares on the other side of the room, start cheering.
“They’re here!”
“We got the firemen!”
“Look! It’s Dustin!”
Yeah. I don’t take that one personally.
“Hey, kids!” Dustin says, waving.
“Hi, Mister Fireman!” one boy shouts.
Another child corrects him. “That’s Dustin and Cody.”
“Children,” Lacey, their first-grade teacher says in her professionally calm voice. “What did we talk about?”
The noise of their excited chatter overpowers her attempt to calm them.
“One, two, three. Eyes on me,” she says with a little more volume.
Some of the kids settle.
“Everyone, raise your hand,” Lacey says calmly. “Now touch your nose.” The kids all do. “And rest your hands in your laps.”
I almost rest my hands in my lap. She’s good.
All the kids are temporarily still and sedate.
“Let’s welcome Mr. Cody and Mr. Dustin to our classroom today just how we practiced,” Lacey instructs her students.
“Welcome to Miss James’ first grade class,” the kids say in an unsyncopated chorus, their words tumbling over one another.
She smiles over at us.
“Who’s excited to meet the firemen?” Dustin asks.
The room immediately erupts into chaos again. I shoot Lacey an apologetic look. Then I shoot Dustin a look that says chill. Not that he will, but I can at least try to tame the beast.
“One, two, three,” I say. And surprisingly, all eyes are on me.
“We’re here to tell you a little about our jobs.
Then you can ask some questions. I think we’re going to read you a few stories about firefighters and then, if everyone is a good listener, we’ll go out to the truck and let you look around. ”
A hand pops up in the back—a little girl in pigtails and a pink jumper. “Can we get into the tillerman seat?”
Okay, then. “Well, lucky for you, we brought the truck, not the engine today.” I look at the other kids. “The engine carries its own water supply. A truck like ours has ladders and tools and a seat up top in the back. Raise your hands if you’ve seen someone riding up there before.”
All the hands shoot up and a few kids shout out, “I’ve seen that guy!” and “I saw it!”
Lacey brings her finger to her mouth and makes a shushing sound. All the kids imitate her.
Dustin grabs one of the two books off Lacey’s desk and hands me the other. He hunkers down and sits criss-cross just like the kids. I almost chuckle, watching him fold his big frame. Then he proceeds to read the book, animating all the voices while the kids sit in rapt attention.
When it’s my turn, I remain standing, but I make eye contact.
“Do the voices!” one boy shouts at me, so I do. I make one voice for the thoughts of the dalmatian and a few others for the firefighters—not as well as Dustin, but the kids don’t seem to mind.
“Okay, now …” Lacey says when Dustin and I are finished reading. “You can ask Mr. Dustin and Mr. Cody questions. One at a time, please. And raise your hands.”
One boy up front shoots his hand up before she’s even finished giving her instructions.
“Yes, Michael?”
“Do you get scared of running into fires?”
It’s a question we get asked a lot by kids. I look at Dustin and he glances back at me.
“Fire is scary. And it’s dangerous,” I say, wanting to be sure they understand safety above everything else.
“And anyone who isn’t trained how to be around fire should stay away from it.
” I pause to let my words sink in. “I am not afraid anymore, though. But there have been times when fighting a certain fire has scared me.”
The kids are quiet, almost as if they understand the gravity of what I’m saying.
More hands shoot up and Lacey calls on a boy named Sean.
He asks, “What if you’re inside a fire and you have to go to the bathroom?” His face is dead serious, but the classroom erupts in giggles.
Another boy raises his hand, and before Lacey calls on him, he shouts out, “Do fires burn toilets?”
Which leads to the next one blurting, “My dad poops every morning before work!”
The class is now in hysterics.
Another girl doesn’t even bother to raise her hand. She shouts. “My daddy goes at night.”
Lacey makes the shushing noise with her finger up and just as the classroom finally settles again, a little boy in the middle of the room says, “My dad pooped in a bucket once.”
I glance at Dustin. He’s obviously biting the inside of his cheek. I look away, pressing my lips together while Lacey does her best to regain control of the chaos. I put my finger to my lips in a show of solidarity.
“Okay,” she says. “I think that’s enough for question time. If everyone will quiet down and line up at the door, we’ll be able to go out to see the truck.”
On our way out the door she quietly apologizes to Dustin and me.
“Don’t worry,” he tells her. “They’ve got nothing on our crew when we’re unsupervised.”
“They’re adorable,” I assure her. “And you do an amazing job managing them with the right balance of kindness and limits.”
“Thanks,” she says. “And thank you for being patient with them.”
The kids roam the truck, trying on hats and turnout coats that fit them like dresses. We give each child a plastic badge and a sticker that says Waterford Fire, and then we’re on our way back to the bakery so I can drop Dustin at his car.
“They’re sure cute,” he says as we drive away from the school. “Do you want kids?”
“Me?” I ask.
“Yeah, you. Emberleigh and I want four. I wanted ten, but she talked me down.”
“Ten?”
“Yeah. I love kids.”
“I love kids too, but ten? You know you actually have to raise and feed them, right?”
“Yeah. I do. I even know about the birds and the bees,” he chuckles.
“Well, to answer your question, yes. I want kids. I haven’t thought about how many yet.”
“You kind of have to date someone first.”
“True.”
I almost tell him about Carli. The confession sits on the tip of my tongue. Dustin’s crazy and he can be a loose cannon, but deep down, he’s steady. And he’d keep a secret. I just don’t think it’s time to let this one out of the bag.