Page 39 of Raging Inferno

Chapter Twelve

The Man I’m Thankful For

The car was packed, and we were just about to get on the road when Christopher started to complain his stomach hurt. I didn’t think much of it at first and figured he overdid it on the pancakes this morning. It wasn’t until he threw up all over the backseat that I realized he was sick. Immediately, I pulled onto the shoulder of the interstate and held him outside the car as he continued to vomit. On top of that, he was burning up.

Once I was sure there was nothing but bile left in his belly, I strapped him back into his seat and made a U-turn. On the way to the emergency room, I called Bea and told her we wouldn’t be coming for Thanksgiving dinner. Being the doting grandmother, she was, she offered to meet us at the hospital but I insisted it wasn’t necessary and told her I’d be in touch.

In five years, I can count on one hand how many times Christopher has been sick, and every time is just as frightening as the first. No mother wants to watch their child suffer and more than that, no mother likes feeling helpless. It’s probably the reason I called Jimmy.

For the first time since Christopher was born, I had someone in my life to share the highs and lows of parenthood with. I had someone to lean on, someone I could rely on that wasn’t my sister or my mother. Someone to listen as I freaked out and assured me I was overreacting.

Or so I thought—he didn’t answer any of my calls.

Figuring he was out on a call and didn’t have his phone on him, I left a message telling him I was headed to the hospital with Christopher. By the time I pulled up to the emergency room, I still hadn’t heard from him and I couldn’t suppress the ping of dread churning in my gut. It came often, mostly the nights when Jimmy was working, and I wondered if it would ever go away if I’d ever get used to the fact that the man I was falling in love risked his life every day he put his uniform on.

When it was slow, and after I tucked Christopher in, Jimmy and I would stay on the phone for hours. We’d talk about anything and everything until a call was dispatched and he had to go. The first time it happened, Jimmy told me to go get some sleep, and we’d talk again in the morning. However, I quickly learned it was impossible to fall asleep when you knew your man was fighting a fire. I waited an hour, thinking I had given him ample time to do his job, before I called him back and got his voicemail.

Fearing the worst, I paced the floors and waited for him to return my call. I even went so far as to turn on the news, sure that if something had happened, they would interrupt Jimmy Fallon to bring me the grim news.

Two hours later he called, and my heartbeat finally regulated. After that, Jimmy knew to call me after every run and if by some chance I fell asleep, he texted me, letting me know he was safe. I don’t like to think about September eleventh for my own personal reasons but sometimes, I wonder what it must’ve been like for his ex-wife. I can only imagine it being one of the scariest days of her life.

“Ms. Moscato, I’m Dr. Kravitstein, the pediatrician on call tonight.”

Well, that’s a mouthful.

“I’m going to give him some Motrin to bring the fever down and start him on an IV drip to keep him hydrated. We’re also going to take a culture and test for strep but, I’m thinking it’s viral. Did he have his flu shot this year?”

“Yes,” I say, running my fingers through my hair as I stare at my sleeping boy. The poor kid is as white as the sheet he’s lying on.

“Alright, we will admit him for observation and work at bringing that fever down,” he says, studying me thoughtfully. “Would you like a blanket or a pillow?”

“No, I’m fine,” I reply, wrapping my arms around myself as I force a smile. “Thank you.”

“Very well, I’ll get a nurse—” his voice trails as a nurse steps into the room. “Oh, speak of the devil and the devil appears. Can you get our little patient some Motrin and start him on an IV?”

“Yes,” she replies, turning her attention to me. “I’m sorry, Ms. Moscato, there is a man named Jimmy Casale outside. Did you want me to let him in?”

Shock coursed through me as I divert my eyes to my sleeping son. Jimmy and I haven’t really discussed him meeting Christopher just yet. While I’m sure this thing between us is the real deal, I’m not sure how to introduce my son to the man in my life. I want to be respectful of Chris and preserve his memory, but I also want to share my greatest blessing with the greatest surprise of my life.

Before I can over think it too much, I tell myself a few minutes with Jimmy won’t hurt matters. Christopher is sleeping and if he wakes, I’ll just tell him Jimmy is a friend who came to see if he was okay.

“Please do,” I say, surprised at the hoarseness of my voice.

As I take a seat in the chair beside the bed, the doctor and nurse exit the room. I grab my purse and pull out my phone. I don’t have any missed calls but then again, I also don’t have service here. Putting my phone away, I lean over the edge of the bed and press a gentle kiss to Christopher’s hand, noting he still feels as if he’s on fire.

“You’re going to be just fine,” I whisper.

“Melissa,” Jimmy’s gruff voice calls from the doorway.

Lifting my eyes, I drop my son’s hand and stare at him. Dressed in his bunker gear, sans his helmet, he slowly rakes his eyes over me before turning his attention towards my son. It’s one thing for me to show him a picture and watch his lips quirk as he takes in my baby. It’s another to watch him stare at him in flesh and bone.

“I got your voicemail,” he says, keeping his boots firmly planted in the doorway. “How’s the little guy doing?”

“The doctor thinks it may be strep. He’s keeping him overnight,” I reply, cocking my head to the side as I let my eyes travel the length of him. Noticing the brown bag in his hand, my eyebrows knit together as I point a finger towards it.

“What’s in the bag?”

Seeming to remember the bag in his hand, he glances down at it for a moment before offering me a lopsided smile.

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