Chapter Twenty-Five
Learning Middle Ground
Fred had invited Iris to his home for dinner. He wasn't much of a chef, but he knew how to spice up an easy skillet meal and he'd made it taste better than the box intended hamburger to taste. Anytime he added fresh ingredients, their flavor doctored up a processed dinner.
He'd spent all morning cleaning his house. He did a deep cleaning, getting into every nook and cranny. For Iris, he wanted his home to look inviting. It mattered to him to impress her every time she came over.
During their leisurely dinner on the patio, they'd been entertained by the squirrels and birds. His yard was made up with mature trees and he'd taken time this spring to do some summer planting. Those bushes and a bed of flowers were starting to bloom.
They'd sat outside until dark, holding hands in the new lawn swing he'd bought and assembled. Those damn instructions had been a bear to follow, but worth the effort to snuggle next to his sweetie. Now he asked her inside for some dessert. He put some fresh fruit in a bowl, spooned strawberries on top. "Would you like some whipping cream, Iris?"
"Without is fine."
He handed her the bowl. She looked nice in a white summer dress that came to just above her knees. She was a fine-looking woman, one he was proud to be seen with. They'd done so many things together; walks on the greenbelt, the Discovery Center science museum, which he'd forgotten about until she suggested it, dinners downtown, a movie at the Egyptian Theatre. Getting to know Iris these past few months had been some of the best times he'd had in years.
"Would you like to sit in the living room?" he asked, always trying to remember his manners. He tried never to swear in front of her.
"That would be great."
He joined her on the sofa, each of them eating their dessert. He had a good hold on his bowl so he wouldn't screw anything up, but dammit if a strawberry didn't roll off his spoon, land on the carpet and leave a red splotch. He'd just had the carpet cleaned not that long ago. "Son of a bitch," he uttered, then quickly wanted to cut his tongue out for having cursed.
Iris burst into laughter. "I was wondering when you'd finally let one fly."
Aghast, he gazed at her. "What do you mean?"
"I've heard you cut yourself off several times, and it's not that I don't appreciate it, but Fred—nobody's perfect." Then she added, "Even though I think you're perfect for me."
"Iris," he said, smiling at her lovely face. She had such shiny hair, so pretty and soft. "You're a peach."
"Thank you, Fred." She had a very kissable mouth. And he had kissed it often.
Feelings of love stirred in his heart, very potent and profound. He'd often wondered how he would feel when they happened for him again. He wasn't afraid. In fact, he welcomed the rush of emotions.
They set their empty dessert bowls on the coffee table. He asked, "Would you like to watch a little television?"
That was their code for "Would you like to snuggle and smooch?"
"Definitely," Iris responded, scooting closer to him.
He settled her next to him, the clicker in one hand and his other arm around her.
The television came to life. A picture focused as he began to scroll through the channels, pausing every so often.
A newscaster announced, "City officials have confirmed that one firefighter has been killed in a blaze that ripped through an abandoned building near downtown Boise."
"Wait!" Hands on her cheeks, Iris was on the edge of the sofa so he wouldn't flip to another station.
The images on the screen were that of an old building engulfed in flames.
"Several Boise fire companies responded to a blaze that broke out about nine o'clock tonight. Firefighters still don't know the cause and an investigation is under way. It was thought that homeless people were living in the building at the time, but the building was vacant. Tragedy struck just the same, and the name of the fallen firefighter hasn't been released pending notification of his familv."
"Tony…" Iris's face went chalk white. "Tony. I have to call Tony."
Fred was already getting the phone for her.
Obituaries The Idaho Statesman
The Fireman's Prayer "When I am called to duty God, wherever
flames may rage, Give me the strength to save some life
whatever be its age. Help me embrace a little child before it's too
late, Or save an older person from the horrors of
thatfate. Enable me to be alert and hear the weakest
shout, and
Quickly and efficiently put the fire out. I want to fill my calling and give the best in
me; To guard my every neighbor and protect his
property, And if according to Your will I am to give
my life,
Please bless with Your protecting hand, my children and my wife."
James "Walry"Walcroft, who died on May 1, is to be buried today. He saved lives for more than nine years with the Boise Fire Department.
Walcroft's casket will be carried on the same fire engine that took him to the fire in which he died. The truck will lead a procession ex-pected to include as many as fifty pieces of fire equipment from across the state. It will stop briefly for a prayer at the Station 13 firehouse where Walcroft worked.
Walcroft, 37, leaves a wife and two young children behind. He got caught in what's called a flashover, which happens when the fire gets hot enough that everything inside bursts into flame. Officials say he'll receive full department honors.
The funeral will be held at 11:00 a.m.
Wind whispered through the ash and maple trees. The afternoon was so quiet that the leaves were soft music in the sunshine. Heat promised to settle into the day. Already it felt warm, suffocating.
Tony wore his Class A uniform with a blue dress shirt, black tie and black slacks,
