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The funeral was planned for the following afternoon—no viewing, just a service followed by the burial. In the meantime, Julie and Anita took turns fielding calls and turning away visitors at Allan’s and Danny’s requests. The men had insisted that the day of the funeral would be a circus and they didn’t need to “entertain the monkeys” until then. But Tommy’s request to visit was honored since he was the last one to see Neal alive. So there they sat—Allan, Anita, Danny, Tommy and Julie—around the kitchen table, full but untouched coffee cups, loaded but unspoken questions.

“Yeah,” Tommy confirmed, “the victim was already dead when we got to him.”

“Explain,” Allan, a retired fire chief from the very station where Tommy and Neal worked, demanded.

“Apparently the husband and wife had been sleeping in different bedrooms. He was a drinker, situation wasn’t pleasant, divorce was in the cards, but they hadn’t yet told the kids.” Tommy shook his head. “Fire broke out when everyone was sleeping. Mother woke to the smell of smoke and started screaming. She thought she woke everyone. A neighbor must have called 9-1-1, thank the Lord, ‘cause by the time she got up, the entire back of the first floor was consumed in flames.

“We got there, got in, and Neal grabbed two of the kids right out of their beds. They couldn’t get out of their rooms—fire was right outside their fucking door. The mom was stuck in another bedroom with the two other kids. Got them out. The kids started talking about the puppy who was stuck in the crate in the front of the house. Two guys went in and got the dog...in and out fast, no worries. That’s when the wife screamed for her husband.” Tommy’s eyes drifted between Danny and Allan. “You know Neal would go back in.”

Allan nodded woodenly.

“He’d been on the second floor, seen the devastation there,” Tommy said. “The minute he screamed he was going in, I followed. According to the wife, the spare bedroom was in the back of the house.”

“Where the fire started,” Danny stated the obvious.

“Yeah,” Tommy nodded, swallowing hard. Julie could see the man was reliving each minute as he spoke.

“We got in quick enough, or so we thought. The victim was lying on the bed, unresponsive.” Tommy looked at both men. “You know how it is—we didn’t even try to wake him. I just threw him over my shoulder and headed back to the window. The floor was so fucking hot, it was beginning to buckle and smoke was pluming through the vents. We thought we had time, Neal and I. I hurried. I just needed another step or two, and he could have gotten out. I was on the second rung when I heard it…I felt it… the whole damn house shook. The fucking floor caved in.

“The mayday call was executed flawlessly, but the fall was too bad, the fire too out of control.” Tommy rubbed his hands over his face. “Thing of it is, the father must of had a heart attack and died before the fire ever started. The family’s already received the preliminary autopsy results. There was no smoke in his lungs, but he did suffer from a massive cardiac event.”

“So what you’re telling me is”—Danny paced, his hands clenched into tight fists—“my brother died trying to save a fucking dead man?”

Julie gasped as Danny’s fist went through the wall, retracted, and punctured the drywall a second time.

Allan rose slowly, rounded the table, and stopped in front of his remaining child. “No, son, what Tommy is telling us is Neal died doing what he lived to do. We’re firefighters. We protect those who need us when their lives are in the balance. Those little children didn’t know their daddy had died. They only knew he was stuck in their house and couldn’t get out. Neal got him out, son. Dead or alive, that man was rescued.”

###

AS PREDICTED, NEAL’S funeral was well attended. Okay, well attended may have been a grand understatement. Hundreds of people came to pay their respects to the fallen hero, the former high school quarterback, the town heartthrob, the soldier’s brother, the fire chief’s son, and the all-around amazing man Neal Marcus had been. The eulogies were both heartbreaking and warming as people sobbed and giggled over the stories shared. When Danny spoke of his baby brother, Julie found it almost painful to breathe. It wasn’t until Allan wrapped his strong arm around her and pulled her in tight that she exhaled for what seemed to be the first time in days.

“He’s gonna be all right,” Allan whispered.

“But will you?” Julie countered.

Her father-in-law drew in a deep breath and let his eyes close for a second before he stared at the podium where his son stood. “A parent never gets over losing a child. Ever. And I’ve lost two. I won’t be the same man I was—I can’t be—but it’s my job as a parent to continue on. To love Danny, to love you, and to be grateful for the time I have left on this earth. Memories are for the living, and I wouldn’t trade one minute of my time with my boys. So yeah, darling, I’ll be sad, but I’ll be okay.”

“I love you, Allan,” Julie murmured. “Thank you for giving me Danny and for making me feel like one of yours.”

“You are mine, sweetie.”

If she never saw another casket lowered into the ground, it would be too soon. Everyone left the cemetery and headed back to the Marcus home, but Danny needed more time. So she stood by the newly buried plot, wrapped her arms around her stoic husband, and let her thoughts wander. Other than the eulogy, he hadn’t spoken much since his outburst the day before, and she didn’t want to push him. She didn’t fear Danny and knew he’d never lift a finger in anger, but she knew grief. She knew each person lived it differently. If he needed silence, she’d offer her support quietly.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, but…I’m interruptin’.”

The familiar voice blanketed Julie, and an audible sigh escaped her lips as she turned to see the man standing behind them.

Chapter Eight

Ended Up Being Your Ladder

DANNY’S HEAD JERKED up from the fresh dirt the second that deep voice hit his ears. Pivoting, he faced his friend, a man who had come to mean so much over the years, even though they didn’t see nearly enough of each other since Danny and Julie had moved to Baltimore several years before.

“Chester… what? How did you know?”

The older man shook his head. His sorrow-filled eyes moved from Danny’s face to the cemetery ground. “Your woman does a good job of keepin’ me informed, boy. Always has.”

Danny’s gaze moved to Julie in time to see a small lift on the side of her mouth.

“How do think I always know the latest gossip from Chester’s Bar? It certainly isn’t from the few times a year we see him.” Julie wrapped her arms around the man who’d been her salvation before Danny was ever in the picture, and squeezed. “The old guy loves to chat on the phone.” Julie smiled upon releasing Chester. “Who knew?”

“Shh, that’s supposed to be a secret,” Chester said gruffly before turning his gaze back to Danny.

“You drove all the way down here from Laurel?” Danny asked, unable to hide the surprise he felt.

“Boy, I’d fly around the damn world if you guys needed me. Damn shame you don’t know that yet.”

Tears stung Danny’s eyes as Chester pulled him in for a quick hug. The rich smell of Chester’s leather coat permeated Danny’s senses¸ reminding him of the first year Danny and Julie had spent in Laurel together.

“Are you done standing out here?” Chester asked.

Danny looked at Julie, who shrugged. Her unwavering support and understanding had been noticed and appreciated, even if he hadn’t yet expressed it.

“Yeah, we’re done,” Danny said.

“You wanna go straight back to your dad’s place, or you wanna go for a drink somewhere?”