Flashover by Dana Mentink

store where Mr. Evans kept a mishmash books.
    She grabbed a couple and sat down on a scarred wooden chair by the window to thumb through some worn copies and try to think of something she’d missed. She looked out the tiny window to see her cousin Mitch coming out from the shop across the street. Charlie followed a few steps behind. Crouching on her knees to get a better look, she watched them talk.
    Quickly she replaced the books and waved to Mr. Evans as she darted out into the street. Mitch was just firing up the engine of his motorcycle.
    She hollered at him over the noise.
    He didn’t look up.
    â€œMitch,” she yelled again, putting a hand on his arm.
    He jerked, eyes wide. “Oh, hi, Ivy,” he called. “Sorry, can’t talk. Gotta take off.”
    â€œStop running away from me. I need to talk to you.”
    â€œSee you later, V.” He waved and drove off down the street.
    She turned to Charlie. “Do you know where he’s going?”
    He pushed back the brim of his cowboy hat. “No, ma’am. He doesn’t clear his calendar with me.”
    â€œHow was your fishing trip?”
    â€œWhat fishing trip?”
    â€œI thought you and Mitch went fishing.”
    â€œNo, ma’am. I’d love to drop a line, but I’ve been plenty busy.”
    A car with fire department markings pulled up in the spot Mitch’s motorcycle had just vacated.
    Tim jingled his keys. “Perfect timing. Hey, Charlie. How are you?”
    â€œDoing well. Off to pick up my Porsche. I love that car but it sure keeps my mechanic in business.”
    He tipped his hat again and headed away.
    Tim turned to her. “How about lunch? My treat.”
    â€œI’m not feeling up to it.”
    â€œOkay. How about you keep me company while I eat and I’ll tell you what I learned about Cyril?”
    Her heart skipped a beat. “Something that might help?”
    â€œMaybe. Sit with me and find out.”
    Ivy staked out a shaded table on the sidewalk while Tim went inside the small café. He came out with two falafels and sodas. “I thought you might be hungry later.”
    In spite of her dark mood, her mouth watered at the smell of spicy chickpeas inside the soft pita. She took a bite of the savory sandwich just as a fire engine roared down the street, sirens blasting.
    She half rose, the instinct to respond overwhelming her senses. Jeff rode in the front, earphones in place, eyes intense. Denise sat in the backseat, leaning forward, eagerness painted all over her young face. In the next second they were gone, leaving behind only a wake of exhaust.
    Ivy sagged back into the chair, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.
    Tim reached out a hand to cover hers. “Give it time, Ivy.”
    She snatched her hand away. “Time? I don’t have time. You don’t understand.”
    â€œSure, I do. You’re angry and frustrated that you can’t work.”
    â€œIt’s not just about work. I feel like, like I’ve been pulled away from my family.”
    He took a sip of soda before he spoke. “I know about the brotherhood and all that, Ivy, but you have a family and people that love you, no matter what you do.” An edge crept into his voice. “Even when you shut them out.”
    â€œSo I’m committed to my job, Tim. That’s not a crime.” She tried to keep her voice level. “When Sadie died, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let that happen to another soul if I could prevent it.”
    â€œAnd you haven’t. You’ve saved lives and property. You’ve made a difference to a lot of people, but my point is that you are still a worthy, well-loved person even when you’re not wearing your turnouts.” His voice rose in volume. “And I could also add there are people, great people, heroic people all over the place who just don’t happen to ride a fire engine for a living.”
    She bridled.