15 September 1992 - Avocado Street, Springfield, Massachusetts

“So this is a simple lifting test with the stair chair,” Connie explained to Dawn Ebersole, a new EMT at CRVA, a week later. Jeff wasn’t quite sure what to make of her yet; he’d only met her five minutes ago. “We’ll run through this twice: once with Jeff as your partner, once with me. Rescue Randy here weighs one hundred fifty pounds. We’ll use him again when we evaluate your mechanics while lifting the stretcher and doing forms of lifting required on this job.” Randy was a weighted training mannequin most commonly used by fire departments. If he was dropped he wouldn’t complain much.

“Jeff looks like he could lift Randy all by himself,” the new girl said while giving him an appraising look.

Jeff wasn’t sure he liked the look she’d given him. “Maybe so, but this is a team sport,” he reminded her in a stern voice. “You could seriously injure your partner or your patient if you don’t, or can’t, do this right. I want to be able to pick up my kids later in life, maybe sit down for longer than five minutes, too.”

Everyone else he’d worked with proved to him long ago that they could pull their own weight on this job, no pun intended; he’d have no patience for someone who couldn’t and neither would any of the people he’d trained with. Dawn’s eyes widened before she swallowed and nodded.

He and Connie reviewed proper body mechanics before the test. Dawn needed a few pointers during the two stair chair repetitions, and a few more with the stretcher. Jeff warned her about the pins when lowering the stretcher. Neither he nor Connie said anything about the graphite grease on parts of the stretcher to Dawn; it was something for rookies to learn on their own. After testing her on fore-and-aft lifts, which she needed more work on, they sent Dawn off to the office to finish her new hire paperwork.

“I don’t know about this one,” Connie said to Jeff in a low voice once they were alone.

“Yeah, I’m not sure about the vibe I get from her, either. Where’d she take her EMT class?”

“The vibe, or the fact that she looked at you like a starving woman staring at a medium-rare steak? Anyway, she took her class at Stick during the spring semester.” “Stick” was Springfield Technical Community College.

“Any feedback from them about her?”

“The usual,” which meant they’d heard nothing. Dawn owned an EMT card and a pulse, end of story.

“Is she training with you? Is that why I’m being foisted off on Gene after today?” he asked.

“Yeah, she is.”

“You’re super thrilled, aren’t you?”

“Good partners are hard to come by, Jeff. I trust you’ll have my back when we go somewhere regardless of the call, your situational awareness is outstanding, and your skills are top-notch. She’ll have to prove all of that to me and quickly.”

“I don’t know what they were thinking when they let us work together.”

“I can’t imagine why they would concentrate all of this awesomeness in one truck either, Gene,” Jeff replied.

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Dude, are you high? Why don’t you just say the ‘Q’ word? Damn, I thought we were friends?” Gene just violated a major EMS rule: don’t poke the bear; his asking “what’s the worst that could happen” did just that. Jeff’s reply highlighted another EMS superstition: unimaginable horrors would befall any EMS provider who dared utter the dreaded “Q” word - quiet.

“Ambulance Fifteen?” crackled the radio.

Jeff looked at Gene, holding out both hands towards the radio as if to say “you see?”

Gene laughed, picking up the microphone. “Fifteen.”

“Fifteen, Western General Medical Center, fourth floor, patient Hamelin returning to the River House. Requesting a 1330 pickup. Bring in your oxygen.”

“Fifteen, received.”

“The River House? The River House? See what you did? You know I hate that place, Gene. It’s gonna take me a week to get that smell out of my nose.”

“Oh suck it up, would you?”

“Guten Abend, Frau Noke.”

“Hi, Jeff.” Trudy Noke responded in a weary voice. She’d also answered in English, which was unusual.

“Are you okay, ma’am?”

“We took extra off her tonight,” explained the dialysis nurse.

Jeff nodded. Dialysis was hard on a person; taking more water weight off of Mrs. Noke than normal seemed to increase her post-treatment fatigue significantly. “Is the new scale ready, or do you need us to use the regular scale?”

“Facilities finished the new scale today. Tonight would be a good night not to move Trudy more than you have to.”

“Okay, thanks. Frau Noke, I’m going to go weigh the stretcher instead of this wheelchair and I’ll be back. Gene will be over in a moment.” Mrs. Noke nodded with her eyes closed. Jeff put the wheelchair away, then maneuvered his empty stretcher over to the industrial-sized scale the dialysis unit installed to accommodate stretcher patients. The manager had found it at a local shipping business which was closing and lobbied for the hospital to purchase it.

“They’ve got it working?” asked Gene from behind Jeff.

“Yeah. They took extra off Mrs. Noke today, so weighing her while on the stretcher will be a big help.”

Jeff and Gene moved Mrs. Noke onto the stretcher with the utmost care. They weighed her, then Jeff returned to her nurse and reported the after-treatment weight. Mrs. Noke asked to have the head of the stretcher lowered most of the way after she’d been loaded into the ambulance. Jeff backed into the Noke’s driveway twenty minutes later. The lights for the back deck snapped on at the sound of the backup alarm.

“She slept the whole way here,” Gene reported when he stepped out of the ambulance. The two EMTs unloaded their patient from the truck without jostling her, then wheeled her up the ramp behind the house.

“Glad I convinced Paul this ramp was a good idea,” Mr. Noke commented when Jeff and Gene wheeled his wife to the slider off the deck. Paul was the Nokes’ oldest son, a builder. He’d brought a crew to his parents’ house during Mrs. Noke’s stay at the nursing home; they’d built the ramp in a week, having it ready well in advance of Mrs. Noke’s return. “Liebchen, are you okay?” Mr. Noke asked, stroking her hair.

“Ja, Edgar. I’m just tired. Boys, would you put me in my chair in the living room?” They did as she’d asked.

“Is that okay, ma’am?” Gene asked once she was in her favorite chair. She nodded. “Jeff and I will see you Saturday night. You take care.”

“Thank you, Eugen,” Mrs. Noke replied; “Eugen” was pronounced “OY-ghen.” Mr. Noke walked them out to the deck.

“Thanks for taking care of my Trudy tonight, boys.”

“Of course, sir. Will she be alright?”

“Don’t worry too much, Jeff. She’ll bounce back after an hour or two.”

“We’re glad to hear that, sir. She’s just about everyone’s favorite patient at CRVA.”

“We know, Jeff,” Mr. Noke smiled. “We’re lucky to have people like you two, and the rest at your company, taking such good care of her. You boys have a good night.”

Jeff and Gene wheeled the stretcher back out to the ambulance. “Man, they’re like everyone’s grandparents at CRVA.”

“That they are, Gene. Let’s hope they’ll be around a long time.”

“Hey, Jeff! How was the night?” Connie Willis asked Jeff when he emerged from the bunk room at CRVA.

Jeff cast her a dark look. “It sucked, thanks.” He and Neil were coming off an overnight shift. They’d worked the only ambulance staffed at the basic life support level at CRVA overnight. “Every time we laid down, the radio seemed to go off. Dastardly Dave had a horrible night, too.” Dave Amorosino was the overnight dispatcher at CRVA; if they’d been busy, he’d been more so.

“That good, huh?”

“We went to the River House three times, Connie.” Jeff saw a faint smile on Connie’s face; she knew how much he hated that place.

“Well, hopefully next week you can get back to what EMS really stands for: Earn Money Sleeping.”

Jeff grunted his agreement. “Where’s your partner? Checking the truck?”

“She’d have to be here, first.” Connie’s voice conveyed her annoyance with Dawn Ebersole; the woman managed not to get fired in the two months she’d been working there, but she wasn’t going to win Employee of the Year, either. It was five minutes before their shift was scheduled to start; even though you couldn’t punch in until your start time, the company custom was to be on-site fifteen minutes early. “By the way, have I told you she thinks you’re ‘yummy?’”

“Connie, I’m already so tired I’m gonna throw up. Don’t help.” Connie teased Jeff about her partner’s infatuation with him every chance she got. She knew Jeff didn’t feel the same way.

“But if you spent time with her, Jeff, you’d feel the same way,” she crooned, batting her eyelashes.

“The same way I do now, you mean?” Whenever Jeff was around Dawn, she managed to open her mouth and say something that turned him off just a little more.

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. I’m taking one for the team working with her, you know?”

“I’m telling you, Gene, I feel like I’m being watched while I’m at the apartment lately.”

“You’re just paranoid.”

“That doesn’t mean someone’s not out to get me. You remember the break-in they had in the office two weeks ago?”

“The one where they hit the personnel office?”

“Yep. Don’t repeat this Gene, but Bill Harris told me whoever broke into the office only opened the file drawer with the employee files in it; they didn’t touch anything else in the office but that filing cabinet. The folder with my file was the only one removed from the drawer. Nothing was missing from the file, but things were out of order.”

“Okay, that’s a little creepy.”

“You think?”

“Keep your head on a swivel, Jeff.”

The concerned conversation ended when the pair arrived at Riverside Hospital to pick up Mrs. Noke. The sixty-six year-old woman greeted them with a wide smile.

“Guten Abend, boys!”

“Hi, Mrs. Noke,” Gene replied. “You’re looking ready to run the Boston Marathon tonight! Did they not have to take too much off you today?”

“No, not to much today, Eugen.” Mrs. Noke hopped up and walked over to the scale under her own power. If they could have gotten away with it, Jeff and Gene would have let Mrs. Noke ride in the front seat of the ambulance, rather than strapped to the stretcher in the back.

“Now, Mrs. Noke, you let us help you to the door. There could be some ice we don’t see in this darkness,” Gene admonished her when they arrived at her house. It was almost six at night in early December; sunset was three hours ago. “Don’t you be jackrabbiting on us!”

“I’ll behave, Eugen,” she promised him with a pat on his hand.

The front porch lights were off, as were most of the house lights, when Jeff backed into the driveway. Nr. Noke always turned them on before they returned his wife after dark. Jeff was getting a bad feeling.

“Frau Noke, was Mr. Noke going anywhere this evening?” Jeff asked when he opened the back doors of the ambulance.

“Nein, Gottfried. Was ist los?”

“Your porch lights are off; he probably just forgot to turn them on. I’ll grab one of our flashlights.” Jeff and Gene wheeled Mrs. Noke to the front door on the stretcher. They helped her to her feet and turned to open the door.

It was locked. Jeff’s feeling of dread grew.

“Do you have your keys, ma’am?” She handed them to Jeff with a look of concern on her face. Jeff opened the door and turned on the lights to the living room.

Edgar Noke was sitting in his recliner, bolt upright. He was pale and sweaty. His breathing was labored.

“Gene! Oxygen and jump kit!” Jeff called while he knelt next to the man. Gene sped away to retrieve those items.

“Edgar!” Mrs. Noke gasped in a voice full of fear. “Mein geliebter Edgar!” Tears were already streaming down her face while she stood near her husband.

Edgar Noke’s pulse was rapid, irregular, thready. Jeff heard wetness in his breathing. Gene rushed back in with the two items Jeff requested. Without needing to be told he placed a non-rebreather mask on Mr. Noke, giving him one hundred percent oxygen. “Captain, are you having any pain?” Mr. Noke nodded, pointing to his chest.

“Mrs. Noke?” Gene called. “Mrs. Noke?” She looked over at him. “Does Edgar take any medications?”

“Medications?” she repeated, dazed.

“Yes, ma’am.” She nodded. “Could you show me where they are, please?” She led Gene into the kitchen and opened a cabinet. Inside were pill bottles for both; more importantly, there were pre-typed lists of the medication names and prescribed dosages for both Edgar and Trudy. On the list for Edgar was the other information Gene needed: NKDA. Edgar had no known drug allergies.

Back in the living room Jeff raised the portable radio. “Fifteen to dispatch, any ALS available for this address? A seventy-six year old male with chest pain, rales and pedal edema.”

“Fifteen, Twenty-one is tied up, I’ll check with Western General’s medics.”

When Gene turned back to the living room in the kitchen, he spotted the Nokes’ small personal phone book. “Ma’am, we’ll bring this with you so you can call family.” Mrs. Noke nodded.

“We’re ready to put him on the stretcher, Gene,” Jeff reported when they returned. “Twenty-one’s unavailable; dispatch is checking on Western’s medics.”

Gene snorted. “We can be at Riverside before they even cross the bridge. Let’s get moving.”

They lifted Mr. Noke onto the stretcher. Mrs. Noke clung to his hand. Jeff asked her to wait inside while they moved through the front door; they wouldn’t fit if she was still next to Mr. Noke. He placed her hand back in Mr. Noke’s to give her something to hold onto once they were outside. Gene helped her into the front passenger seat when they reached the truck, then helped Jeff load Mr. Noke. Jeff connected his patient to the truck’s oxygen tank once inside; Gene closed the doors behind them. Mr. Noke grabbed Jeff’s hand when they rolled out of the driveway, lights spinning.

“Take care of my Trudy, Jeff,” Mr. Noke gasped.

“You’re going to be around for many more years, Captain,” Jeff assured the man. He rechecked Mr. Noke’s vital signs before picking up the radio to call the hospital. Jeff gave a short, curt report and hung up the microphone. “We’ll be at the hospital in about five minutes, sir.” Mr. Noke nodded.

Three minutes later Gene was backing the ambulance into the ER at Riverside Hospital. He helped Mrs. Noke to the back of the truck, then helped Jeff unload her husband. He was still having chest pain, but his color had improved with the oxygen. Mrs. Noke clung to her husband’s hand as they all walked into the ER. They were directed to a room. A nurse neither Jeff nor Gene recognized entered to take their report, pulling the privacy curtain over the doorway. She looked bored.

Jeff began to give her a report while she pulled the oxygen mask off Mr. Noke. She seemed to ignore everyone in the room as she roughly pulled their patient’s shirt off. Jeff grew more annoyed with each passing second; he could tell Gene felt the same way. Mrs. Noke was also growing upset with how her husband of forty-six years was being treated.

“Where’s the IV?” the nurse snapped, interrupting the report she was ignoring. Mr. Noke looked like he was having more distress again.

“We’re a basic life support ambulance,” Jeff informed her. “BLS isn’t allowed to start IVs.”

“Did he get any nitro, then?”

“BLS isn’t allowed to administer medications.”

“Damn lazy ambulance drivers,” the woman muttered.

Storm clouds gathered over the heads of both Gene and Jeff; they both hated that term. Jeff stopped giving his report, stepped out of the room and looked around. He recognized a few other nurses at the desk and walked over.

“Sally, would you mind coming over to Room Six before Nurse Ratched kills my patient?”

The woman looked up. She didn’t remember the name of the EMT who’d made the request, but she recognized him. He was a competent provider who’d always given her good reports that matched his patient’s condition. “Is something wrong?”

“The battle-axe in there just pulled a non-rebreather off a diaphoretic chest pain patient with shortness of breath, audible rales and pedal edema without listening to my report, or getting any vitals. She then proceeded to manhandle him while trying to undress him. She then called my partner and I ‘damn lazy ambulance drivers’ because we didn’t start an IV or give nitro. As basic EMTs, we aren’t allowed to start IVs or give medications.”

“She didn’t say that, did she?” Sally asked in a pained voice while she rose. The other four nurses rose as well. There were very few things that could piss off an EMT so quick as calling them an “ambulance driver.”

“She most certainly did.”

“Great. Come on, ladies.”

“I’ll get Dr. Caswell,” one of her colleagues said as she headed in the other direction.

Jeff, Sally and the three other nurses hustled back to Room Six, pulling open the curtain. Mr. Noke was as pale as when they’d walked into his house; the man was keeping himself upright, holding onto the bed rails while the rude nurse tried to make him lie down. Sally stepped over and pulled the back of the hospital stretcher as far upright as she could; she wedged a pillow behind Mr. Noke. The oxygen went back on next.

“What are you doing?” the first nurse asked in a none-too-polite tone.

“Keeping you from killing your patient,” Sally muttered while putting Mr. Noke on the cardiac monitor.

“What are you talking about?”

“Did you listen to a single word they were telling you?”

“They didn’t even start an IV!”

“They’re not allowed to!”

“What? The other ambulance drivers who’ve been through here today have started them!”

“Outside.”

“What are you... ?”

“In the hall. Now.”

As the two women stepped out, Dr. Caswell stepped in. Jeff gave him the report he’d tried to give the nurse; he made sure to note that they were a BLS crew. He could hear the two nurses starting to go at it in the hall. Dr. Caswell nodded at Jeff’s report and started asking the nurses for various things: to establish an IV, to give the patient nitroglycerine, to take a twelve-lead EKG. Jeff liked Dr. Caswell because he asked for things.

Jeff knelt next to Mrs. Noke. “Frau Noke? Do you want to call your children? Things will be pretty busy in here for a while.” She nodded. Jeff helped her to her feet; he escorted her to the nurse’s station where they asked to use the phone. Gene sat with Mrs. Noke while Jeff wrote his paperwork. They stayed with her until Paul Noke arrived thirty minutes after he’d received the phone call from his mother.

Jeff and Gene loaded their stretcher back in their truck. They signaled clear and were given the okay to return to the station. The normally chatty pair were silent on the trip back.

The next two crews to come into contact with Mrs. Noke reported her listless behavior, the seeming lack of interest in life. A week before Christmas the Noke home was still undecorated. Long-time CRVA employees mentioned how the house was always decked-out well before the holiday. Christmas was Mrs. Noke’s favorite holiday.

Mr. Noke survived, but he’d experienced an AMI - an acute myocardial infarction - EMS-speak for a heart attack. He’d been taken to the operating room the night Gene and Jeff brought him to Riverside. He’d undergone a quadruple bypass and was now in rehab himself.

Gene and Jeff dropped Mrs. Noke off at home on Thursday the seventeenth. The youngest Noke, Molly, was staying with her mother that night. At Mrs. Noke’s request Jeff and Gene brought her right to her bedroom. After her door shut Jeff, Gene and Molly stood in the kitchen, speaking in hushed tones.

“I’m worried about Mom.”

“We are too, Molly; all of us at CRVA are worried about both of your parents.”

“I wish there was something we could do to help them.”

Gene looked into the living room. “I think there is.”

“What?” Molly asked.

It was Christmas Eve. Normally Trudy Noke would be happy about this day, but this year she didn’t care. Her Edgar was still at Pioneer Valley Nursing and Rehab. Her friends from CRVA and her family tried everything they could to lift her spirits since Edgar’s heart attack, but they couldn’t fix the hole in her heart. She missed her partner in life; she wasn’t ready for him to leave.

Her house was almost dark when Gene and Jeff brought her home; the only exception were the blazing porch lights. Mrs. Noke said nothing while the pair unloaded her from the ambulance. She’d said nothing on the ride home either. They assisted her to her feet and escorted her inside. Gene snapped on the lights when they entered the house.

“‘Bout time you got home, Trudy.”

For the first time in weeks Gene and Jeff saw a reaction from Mrs. Noke. Her head snapped up as disbelief and joy spread across her face. Tears fell from her eyes while she almost sprinted across the living room to her Edgar, who was sitting in his favorite chair. He held her in his arms as she sobbed with happiness.

“Wie bist du hier her gekommen?” she gasped.

“How did I get here? Stu and Fran brought me home,” he said, motioning to the CRVA crew standing in their kitchen. “Someone had to show everyone where you keep the Christmas decorations.”

“Decorations?” she asked as she looked around the house.

In her haste to get to Edgar she hadn’t noticed all of her decorations placed around the house, the candles in the windows, or the tree standing in the living room; the tree was decorated with her favorite ornaments and covered by a waterfall of lights. All of their children were there, as well as their grandchildren; they’d been secreted away in the bedrooms upstairs until she’d walked into the house.

From outside came a wondrous sound carried by the cold winter air: a lone woman’s voice singing. Edgar nudged her back towards the door, encouraging her with a nod.

Stille Nacht! Heil’ge Nacht!
Alles schläft; einsam wacht.
Nur das traute hoch heilige Paar.
Holder Knab’ im lockigen Haar,
Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh,
Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh!

Just before she reached the door, many voices joined the original soloist. They repeated the verse in English.

Silent night, holy night.
All is calm, all is bright.
Round yon Virgin Mother and Child.
Holy Infant so tender and mild.
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace!

Trudy Noke stood in her doorway, speechless. Ambulances lined the street. Standing outside in their snowy front yard was almost the entire roster of EMTs and paramedics from CRVA. The on-duty staff wore their uniforms; half of the crowd were in off-duty clothes, having given up part of their Christmas Eve to come to the Noke residence for this surprise. A week of practices in the garage at work allowed their voices to blend well. They sang the entire hymn for their favorite patient.

Tears traced down Trudy’s cheeks again while the people who’d transported her to and from dialysis over the last three years walked up to the door. One by one they wished her and her family a Merry Christmas before melting away into the night. The sound of diesel engines starting up faded away as the ambulances left, their crews heading back to await another request for help. Connie Willis was the last person from the front yard to wish her a Merry Christmas; she helped her favorite patient back into the house.

“How... ? How did you do this? Who came up with this idea?”

“Molly’s always been the little troublemaker, Mom. Blame her,” Gerry Noke said. Gerry was the third of the five Noke children.

“Hey, I had help on this one! The original idea was Gene’s but he, Jeff and I fleshed it out last week. Connie heard about it and added the part with the ambulance company folks singing outside.”

“Connie, who was the person who was singing at first? That was beautiful!” Mrs. Noke asked. Instead of answering the question, Connie began to sing the song in its original German. Trudy closed her eyes and let the lyrics wash over her, remembering her childhood in Germany; she added her own voice to Connie’s. By the third verse, Edgar and their children were singing with them, reliving memories of Christmases past. The grandchildren sat enraptured by the sound along with Gene and Jeff.

Trudy opened her eyes at the end of the hymn and squeezed Connie’s hand. Connie smiled, squeezing back. She walked over to Mr. Noke, gave him a hug and left the house without a word.

“A crew will be by Saturday afternoon to bring Mr. Noke back to Pioneer Valley,” Gene explained. “His rehab’s not quite done, but we were able to get him a weekend pass. Merry Christmas.”

“I can’t thank you two enough. Merry Christmas.” Trudy Noke gave them both hugs and big kisses on their cheeks before they left.

Gene and Jeff closed the front door behind them. Connie was sitting in the back of the running ambulance. She sniffled as she smiled at them.

“You okay?” Jeff asked her when Gene left the Nokes’ house. He was sitting on the rear bench seat with Connie while Gene drove.

She nodded. “I’m glad we could do that for them. That’s probably the best Christmas memory I’ve had in a few years.”

“They threw you out around this time of year, didn’t they? Because of your ‘lifestyle choice?’”

Connie nodded; she’d stopped being surprised at how perceptive Jeff was soon after they’d started working together. “Five years ago tonight. I’d just finished my EMT class at Stick and was waiting for my test results to come back. I was working afternoons at a crappy little convenience store across town. I came home and the locks had been changed. I was over eighteen, and the apartment lease was in my parents’ names, so the cops couldn’t do anything. Luckily, I owned my car. The police called around, but CRVA was the only place to offer me a place for the night; Bill Harris was the medic that night and made sure I ate dinner with the crews on-duty. I parked in random parking lots the next couple nights until I got into the place I’m still at.”

“I had nothing but the clothes I was wearing, literally. CRVA had just gotten new beds in the bunk room; they gave me a mattress and bed frame so I wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor of my apartment. The thrift store was a helpful spot, too; I got a lot of what I needed there. I got my test results just after New Year’s 1988, got hired on at CRVA, and I’ve never looked back. My family eventually moved to Montana from what I’ve learned. I refuse to allow myself to fail; they win if I fail.”

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Sitting around my apartment doing very little,” she shrugged.

Jeff shook his head. “You’re coming to my parents’ house and eating with my family and our friends; I’ll call Mom and let her know when we get back to the station. You’re a little thing so I can’t imagine you’ll eat too much.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I consider you my friend, Connie. The thought of one of my friends being alone on Christmas doesn’t sit very well with me. Gene’s going to be with his in-laws and everyone else we work with is either working or with their own families tomorrow, too. You and I, somehow, have tomorrow off. Where do you live? I’ll swing by after I get out tomorrow.”

A month later, Gene and Jeff were working overtime together. They’d picked up an open overnight shift. They weren’t ready to go to bed yet, so they were cruising around Springfield. The city sported three inches of new powdery snow thanks to a fast-moving storm that came through that day.

“It almost looks pretty,” commented Gene, looking out the passenger’s window.

“Until it starts to get all dirty.”

“How’s the whole paranoia thing going?”

Jeff rolled his eyes. “I keep my bedroom shades pulled and my .45 in a quick-access handgun safe by the bed.”

“Overkill much?”

“I was starting to think so until I found a footprint on the ledge outside one of my bedroom windows. Not a man’s footprint, either.”

“What are you doing about that?”

“I’ve had a private conversation with a friend who’s a sergeant on the force in Enfield; the police can’t do much. At best it’s trespassing right now. I’ve put those anti-pigeon spikes on the ledges near the back deck. That’s about it for now. I come to work, do my coaching at Thompkins and live my life. I’m trying not to let it bother me too much.”

“How’s the coaching... ?” Gene wasn’t able to finish his question.

“Ambulance Fifteen?”

Jeff picked up the microphone. “Fifteen.”

“Fifteen, for the fire standby, fifty-eight Pearl Street in Springfield. Five-Eight Pearl Street, stage in the parking lot behind the building, between Worthington and Winter.”

Jeff stomped on the gas as soon as he heard the address, hitting the lights. “Fifteen has fifty-eight Pearl Street.” Jeff put the microphone down.

“What’s the rush, Speedy Gonzales?” Gene asked.

“That’s Connie’s apartment building, Gene.”

Gene said nothing in reply. He pulled on some gloves while his face set in a grim mask. They arrived at the parking lot in under five minutes. The police were keeping the public out of the lot and off the street between it and the back of the fire building. The red lights from the fire trucks mixed with the blue from the assembled police cruisers, creating swaths of color that would appear and disappear. Radio transmissions echoed through the space. They were the first ambulance on the back side of the building.

Jeff parked the truck, setting the emergency brake and ignition kill switch. He removed the key from the ignition, but the ambulance continued to run; a touch of the brake pedal without the keys in the ignition would cause the engine to stop. The two partners locked the truck after removing their stretcher and equipment. They crossed the street to report into secondary command at the back of the building.

“Hey, Chief. Ambulance Fifteen from Connecticut Valley. Where do you want us?”

The deputy fire chief looked over at them. “Actually, can you guys check that girl over there first? We think she lives in the building, but she won’t answer our questions. All she has on is that overcoat, her pajamas and slippers.” It was twenty-five degrees that night.

“Right away, Chief,” Jeff said. They approached the woman who was staring at the fire, unmoving. When they drew closer they both knew she lived in the building on fire.

“Connie?”

She turned to them, her face blank. There were dried or frozen tear tracks on her face. They scrambled to lower the stretcher and get it ready for their friend. Once clear they had Connie sit and swaddled her in all the blankets they had. Gene waited with Connie while Jeff talked to the deputy chief.

“She lives in the building, Chief, or did.” Nobody was going to be living in the building for some time; all floors were now fully involved. “She works with us, actually. If she’s hurt, we’ll go to Western with her; if not, we’ll take her to our station for now.” Jeff gave him Connie’s name, work address and which apartment she’d lived in.

“Man, this job can be hard enough when you’re on our side of it, let alone the side of the people we try to help. Tell her I said good luck; let us know if she needs anything.”

“Will do, Chief, thanks.” Jeff hustled back over to Gene and Connie. They wheeled the stretcher over to Ambulance Fifteen and unlocked it. They loaded Connie inside and shut the doors before they lost the stored heat. Jeff unlocked the cab, shutting off the emergency lights, then returned to the back. Gene was checking Connie’s feet. They’d arrived in time to save her from a cold injury.

“Gene, I’ll take this one if you want to get us to the station.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll explain later. The emergency lights are off, but the e-brake is still set. Here’s the keys.” Gene took the them and gave Connie a gentle smile before climbing out of the truck.

Jeff heard the emergency brake release. The truck began to roll out of the parking lot. He brushed a lock of Connie’s hair out of her face. She finally acknowledged his presence. She looked him in the eye and her lip began to tremble; she broke down in his arms. He held her for long minutes.

“It’s all gone, Jeff,” she whispered. “Everything I had is gone. Just like five years ago.”

“Your clothes and things might be gone, Connie, but you have something you didn’t have five years ago: friends. You have friends who will help you through this.” Connie said nothing but clung to him while they rode to CRVA’s garage. They got Connie set up on the extra bed in the bunk room once back at the station. Bill Harris was contacted since she was supposed to be working in the morning.

“I’ll fill her shift in the morning myself if I have to,” Bill told Jeff over the phone. “We need to find her somewhere to go. The Red Cross means well, but they must have about ten families to place.”

“She can stay with me, Bill; I have the space. I probably can line up some clothes and things for her by tomorrow, too.”

“Really?”

“Sure, think triple-decker-sized apartment; I’ve got a good couch and two unused bedrooms. I just have to clear it with my landlord, but I don’t think it’s going to be a problem.”

Jeff packed his things and put them in his truck the next morning. He let it warm up in the parking lot while he went back in to collect his new roommate. Connie looked forlorn as she watched the day shift report in and the night shift get ready to go. Neither truck on the overnight, neither his nor the medics, got a call after the fire standby, so they’d all gotten a good night’s sleep at least. Connie was alone in the crew room when he returned.

“Hey, you ready to go, Connie?”

“‘Go?’ Where would I go, Jeff? My home’s gone, my clothes are gone, my car might be gone too for all I know...”

“I’ve got plenty of room, Connie. You can stay with me for as long as you need to; I’ll square it with my landlord. We’ll check on your car later today, after we get you something to eat and something to wear.”

“Jeff ... I...”

“Hey, after Christmas you already know my family likes you. Dad’s always got a used car or two at the shop; he can sell you one if yours is trashed. Bill’s gonna get you an emergency uniform issue when he gets in and bring it by my place. Your friends are going to help you out. And before you say anything, this isn’t charity. This is your friends helping you to your feet. Come on, let’s go get breakfast.”