The Firefighter's Thanksgiving Wish

“We don’t have time to play meet the neighbors,” she snapped back. “We have to get Amelia out of here.”

“Agreed. You lead. But we will discuss this later. Kendall! Out here!” When Kendall emerged from the kitchen, he pointed to the licking flames inching toward the staircase.

“Got it!” Kendall confirmed. “Flames in the kitchen are out.”

Frankie flinched, knowing full well their intercoms were linked with the three volunteers who were also on scene and had heard every word of her exchange with Roman.

“Go, Frankie.” He gave her a nudge.

Smoke continued to snake through the house. Wood and plaster crackled and cracked in the distance. Frankie took quick but deliberate steps, assessing each stair’s strength before moving up. They reached the second floor, and when she looked behind them, she saw the smoke beginning to thin.

Frankie turned left, looking for the drawing-covered door toward the front of the house. “Ladder truck?” Roman yelled.

“Can’t wait! Amelia?” Frankie screamed through her mask. She turned the doorknob and found it locked. But at least it wasn’t hot. “Amelia, it’s Frankie Bettencourt. Remember me? I took you for a ride in the fire engine a while ago?”

“Stand back.” Roman pulled her aside and lifted his foot to kick the door open.

Frankie raced in and found Amelia huddled in the corner of her room, an old rag doll clutched against her chest, tears streaming down her face. “Hot. Hot, hot, hot. Too close. Go away. Too, too close.”

“Amelia, it’s me, Frankie.” Frankie kept a distance and crouched down. She pointed to her face, but she knew Amelia didn’t look people in the eye and the mask only made it more difficult. “Amelia, do you and your dolly remember going for a ride in the big truck?”

“Wooo-wooo.” Amelia nodded fast, her thick black hair bobbing around her face. She began coughing.

“That’s right. Amelia, we have to go. Can you come with me?” Frankie held out her hand.

Amelia shook her head. “No go. Stay. Stay here.”

“Hey, Amelia.” Frankie turned at the sound of Roman’s voice as he dropped down beside her. “My name is Roman. May I call you Amelia?”

“We don’t have time—” Roman cut Frankie off with a sharp shake of his head. He was right. She could hear Kendall and Sebastian’s chatter saying the fire was completely out.

“Amelia, I need you to be really brave for a little while,” Roman soothed. “Can you do that? Can you help me get your doll outside? She’s going to be awfully sick if we don’t leave.”

“Dolly sick?” Amelia blinked, looked down at her doll. “Don’t want Dolly to be sick. Hot. Hot, hot, hot.”

“It is hot in here.” The calmness in Roman’s voice made Frankie think they were taking a Sunday stroll. “And that’s not good for Dolly. I can take you outside. Will you let me put this on you so you and Dolly can breathe better?”

Amelia coughed and, to Frankie’s surprise, she lifted her doll up to Roman. “You’ll help Dolly?”

“I’ll help Dolly.” Roman moved closer. “But you have to come with us. It’s the only thing that will help her.”

“Frankie?” Amelia blinked, and tears streaked her soot-stained face.

“Let Roman help you, Amelia. Please. Your mama is so worried about you and Dolly.”

Amelia nodded.

“Check the stairs,” Roman ordered as he reached for a wooden box on the dresser and stuck it in his pocket.

Frankie raced out of the room and found the heat in the hall easing a bit.

“We’re good!” she called and watched as Roman draped Amelia and her dolly over his shoulder. He motioned for her to lead the way. She could hear Amelia crying, then sobbing, but Roman kept a solid hold on her as they descended the stairs, and soon, they were outside.

“Amelia! Oh, Amelia.” Shirley broke free of BethAnn’s hold, leaving concerned neighbors behind as she raced forward. “Oh, my baby.” Shirley dropped to her knees as Roman set Amelia on the overgrown, scratchy grass.

Roman removed the box from his pocket, cranked the gear and opened the lid. The tinny tune calmed Amelia immediately. He waited a moment, rested a hand on Amelia’s face as she relaxed in her mother’s arms.

“Call for an ambulance,” Roman told Frankie, who raced back to the truck and requested one. Before she could hang up the receiver, she looked back to find Roman, facemask back in place, heading into the house.

More sirens sounded as two deputy vehicles arrived. Sheriff Luke Saxon and Ozzy instantly began to keep the observers far enough away that Frankie and her team could do their jobs. Her intercom buzzed. She could hear the conversation between Roman and the volunteers and breathed a sigh of relief when she heard they were coming out. Smoke continued to drift from the house, but things were under control.