"BEAUTY AND THE BRICE"
BEEEEEEEEP!
The angry driver behind Craig Brice laid on the horn. Brice glanced up at the traffic light, suddenly realizing that it had turned green. He quickly stepped on the gas, and the offended driver nearly ran into Brice's vehicle as he sped around him in the intersection. Brice shook his head. If only that man knew what the weary paramedic had been through, he would understand. It had been an especially grueling shift, and Brice was bone tired. Three fires, a rescue from a cliff, a choking victim, and the MVA involving DeSoto and Gage…he quickly re-ran each event in his mind, trying to forget the last one, but it stood out over everything else.
Another car cut Brice off, but he was oblivious to it and almost ran into the rude driver's back bumper. I probably shouldn't be driving. I'm too tired to make a split-second decision. Brice saw the beach to his right, and for some reason, experiencing the sensation of the fine sand against his skin called to him. There were times when his mind was troubled, and with no one to talk to, he would get into the car and drive to the beach. Sitting in the sand, ignoring the fact that the grit was working its way into his clothing and dirtying it, was a cathartic experience for him.
Brice signaled and turned in to the nearly empty parking lot. He glanced at his watch as he shut off the ignition. It was almost 9:30. He hadn't realized that he spent so much time at the station after B shift arrived. At the time it seemed like the right thing to do; everyone was worried and waiting for word on DeSoto and Gage. As he walked to the sand, he thought about the turmoil in the station when the next crew arrived and they were told about the accident that occurred in the early morning hour.
Station 51 had been called, ironically enough, to an MVA. On the way, two fool kids drag racing and trying to beat a red light slammed into the side of the squad. Gage was driving, and he was the one worse off. Word finally got to the station that DeSoto was resting comfortably in stable condition, but Gage was fighting for his life. The men on B shift sat in the dayroom, stunned. Brice and Belliveau, who had seen the disaster's aftermath firsthand, were not helpful in providing details.
The chaplain arrived to speak with the men, and he provided more details on the injured paramedics' conditions. Brice was relieved that Gage was beginning to stabilize, but he still wasn't out of the woods. He was in critical condition yet, and in surgery.
Brice changed into his civilian clothes and prepared to leave the station while the others were with the chaplain. He thought it would be so easy to slip out unnoticed. Other than a reluctance to talk about it, Brice was fine, at least he seemed to think so. If they had been two of the many victims he dealt with before.... But, they weren't just any other victims, they were two of ours.
“Brice,” he heard someone call his name and turned to find the chaplain standing in the doorway, blocking his exit. “I'm Captain Lewis, I'm th....”
“I know who you are,” Brice nodded at the small bible tucked in the man's hand.
“Yes, well, I understand that you and your partner treated Gage and DeSoto. I thought maybe you might want to talk about what happened, air any feelings you may be experiencing.”
Brice managed a thin smile. “Sir, I appreciate it, but…”
“Yes?” He waited, but Brice didn't say anything. Lewis stepped into the room and continued. “The department is very concerned when something like this happens to our members. I'm here to listen if anyone cares to talk, and offer what comfort I can.”
“I really don't want to talk about it right now.” Brice took a step sideways, secretly eyeing the door behind the captain.
Captain Lewis knew he would lose Brice if he wasn't careful. “The aftermath of that accident wasn't an easy thing to witness, was it?” His eyes bored into Brice's with intensity, but behind those eyes was an offer of compassion and caring. It would be tempting for Brice to accept and open up, but he wasn't ready for that yet. And when he did, it would not be here, with the others listening.
“No sir, it wasn't easy. And that's why I'm not ready to talk yet. I need…” Brice hesitated, thinking. “…I need to sort it all out, and when I do that, I'll make an appointment if it's necessary.” He sidled to the door, but Lewis stopped him with a firm grasp on his arm.
Lewis knew Brice had no intention of making and keeping an appointment. Lewis had come across men like him before. They thought they were like a rock, but even a rock has to fall from its mighty precipice. Lewis hoped that when he did, there was someone there to help. That's why he preferred to intervene as soon as possible, before things got out of hand.
“Brice, something like this can affect you in ways you can't even begin to imagine. Let's take some time to talk about it…when you're ready.” Lewis smiled in concession, letting Brice know that he was off the hook for now, but the chaplain would be available if he was needed. “You can call me any time.” He handed Brice a card with one hand as he released his arm. “You can reach me at any of those numbers.”
“Thank you, Sir. I'll keep that in mind.” He tucked the card in his pocket and completed his escape out of the locker room.
Outside the room, Brice overheard someone mutter, “Damn, I knew he was a bastard, but this just ices it.” He knew they were talking about him, but Brice let the snide remark roll off his back, like all the others he'd heard since joining the department. Brice didn't care what they thought of him. What he'd seen early that morning did affect him, but exactly how was still a mystery. And he wasn't about to go trying to figure it out with the others around. These were his emotions and he wasn't about to share them.
So how do I feel? Upset, naturally. Afraid for their lives? Yes. Do I have the right to feel this way, considering my relationship, or lack of one, that I have with these two men? Brice was not what anyone would call a friend to either Gage or DeSoto, but he respected them and their work. They were good paramedics, and if either of them, or both, did not return to the paramedic program, Brice knew it would be a real loss to the community.
Standing on the edge of the pavement, staring out at the wild surf, Brice recalled what greeted them when they pulled up to the accident. He couldn't believe what his eyes were seeing when he and Belliveau arrived. The other squad more closely resembled a crushed beer can than a rescue vehicle. He froze for one brief second, then rushed to do his job. Doing his job was the only way to keep the horrible thoughts at bay. Doing his job meant he kept his cool. He didn't like to think of what he would feel if he had no training to take care of things in a crisis, to block out emotions and focus on what needed to be done.
The next time Brice froze was when he got a good look inside the squad. He glanced down at the sand, trying to forget. After they extricated Gage, Brice had to crawl over blood on the bench seat to take care of DeSoto. He didn't hold out much hope of anything removing the stains, and he vaguely recalled thinking about that at the time of the rescue. Now, he silently berated himself for worrying about something so trivial. The morning sun irritated him and he held up a hand to block it, catching sight of a remnant of red under the corner of his fingernail. He scrubbed at it until it was gone, but he swore he could still smell the iron scent of blood on himself. Brice shook his head. It's just your imagination!
He turned so the sun was at his back and began walking. The sand leeched into his shoes, forcing him to stop half way to the water and pull them off, followed by his socks. His eyes closed for a minute so he could better savor the sensation of the soft squish of sand between his toes. The beach always had mysterious healing powers for him, and it worked its magic again, sucking away the bad memories and replacing them with hope.
A small burst of laughter escaped him. If anyone knew…if that chaplain knew how therapeutic a simple thing like burying his toes in the sand was, they would think he'd gone off the deep end for sure. He was glad to get away and silently thanked whatever impulse it was that brought him here. He was not one to give in to urges, because more often than not, they went against the grain. But this was a good call.
The sound of children giggling and screeching assaulted his reverie.
“Tammy, look out,” an adult voice cried out.
Brice felt the momentum of a small body as it crashed into him. He was startled, but able to keep his balance by stepping forward with one foot.
“Tammy!” The young mother scolded her child and looked up at Brice as she tugged on the girl's arm. “I'm sorry. She's just so excited about being at the beach….” She shook her head. “I know that's a sorry excuse…..”
Brice smiled at her complacently. “No. I understand perfectly.” He glanced down at the little girl who grinned up at him, squinting against the sunlight beating down. “I have a thing for the beach myself.”
“Well, I promise you the kids won't be any trouble,” she assured him and continued on her way. An older boy already staked out a perfect piece of beach and was building the foundation for a sand castle.
Brice watched them for a few minutes, debating whether to stay or go. Until they arrived, it was relatively peaceful with the crashing waves and screeching gulls. But now their voices floated across the breeze and intruded on his meditation. I should go home. I'm exhausted. But for some reason, he didn't want to. Instead, he walked back to his car.
I'm not really dressed for this, but…here goes. Brice sat on the park bench and laced up his skates. He'd forgotten to take them out of the trunk after the last time he used them, which turned out to be a stroke of luck. It would have been impractical to drive to the apartment for them and return.
He heard the soft scrape of rubber on asphalt and looked away from his laces to the cause. A pair of skates stopped a few feet from him. The white leather boots were scuffed slightly, but he noticed the marks were well covered with shoe polish. Up his eyes roamed to the pink socks peeking out of the boot tops, and he noted with amusement that they almost matched the shade of her wheels. But he quickly abandoned that detail as his gaze roamed slowly up the well-defined calves, the soft skin lightly tanned and so smooth. He was tempted to reach out and touch them, but good sense stopped him.
“Hey, you made it,” her voice exclaimed above him. “I was beginning to think you stood me up.”
Brice's eyes roamed up, past her knees to a pair of toned thighs that disappeared into a skimpy pair of light pink twill shorts. A part of his brain noted that the garment matched the socks, but that was the last thing he cared about. These legs belonged to a woman who skated often. Her legs were muscular but still very feminine. A red hot tingle of desire crept up from deep inside, and his curiosity finally got the better of him as he looked up to see the rest of her.
She wore a white peasant blouse that went well with her shoulder length, gently curling, coppery hair and violet blue eyes. Her legs were incredible, and the rest of her completely took his breath away. She was average height, with a trim waist. He caught a glimpse of her creamy flesh under the blouse when she reached up to reposition the sunglasses resting atop her head. When she smiled, Brice had to fight the whimper of emotion that dared to release itself. God forbid he would make a fool out of himself before even getting a chance to say hello!
“You're Greg, right?”
“N-n-no, sorry. I-I'm not.” Brice could barely talk, let alone breathe. Now's your chance. Introduce yourself! But the moment passed without a single syllable being spoken. He was still too dazed by her beauty. Brice sat up and simply stared at her.
She asked with a sweet lyrical voice, “You need help with those skates?”
Snap out of it, man! She's talking to you! Brice forced himself to answer. “Um, uh, no. I-I can do this.” He quickly leaned over to tie the laces.
The woman smiled and turned around, gracefully lowering herself to sit on the bench beside him. “I suppose you can. Those don't look like beginner skates, so I'm betting you're an old pro at this.” She grinned at him, casually crossed one leg over the other, and leaned back against the bench.
Out of the corner of his eye, Brice noticed that little sliver of bare midriff making another appearance. He shivered to himself and concentrated on lacing the other skate.
“Funny I haven't seen you around here before. I'm Ann. Ann Callahan, but my friends call me Callie.” She paused, her hand out between them. “You can call me Callie…if you dare.” She grinned wider.
Brice dumbly shook her hand and replied, “Craig Brice. I, um, I come out here quite often wh-when I'm not working.” He couldn't keep himself from stumbling on his words in her presence. If you don't knock it off, she'll think you're an idiot! He finally finished tying the skate and straightened on the bench, facing her slightly. Entranced by her, he completely forgot why he was there.
Craig Brice? Now why does that name sound familiar to me? Callie shook off the thought and asked, “You've got the day off?” Brice nodded. “What do you do, speech therapy,” she teased with a twinkle in her eyes. That only made him blush, and she looked chagrined. “Sorry. Sometimes my mouth gets the better of me.”
Brice shrugged it off and returned his attention to a scuff on the toe of his skate. “It's alright. Actually, I, uh, I'm a firefighter/paramedic with the Los Angeles County Fire Department.” Well! I managed to get that out in one breath without stumbling too much!
“No kidding! That must be exciting work.”
“Sometimes, yes,” he replied, looking at her with a hint of sadness in his eyes. Not even the diversion of this beautiful woman could completely erase the memory of what happened.
Callie saw the intense emotion flash acorss on his face and said nothing. It made her suddenly turn shy, and she glanced at her watch, sighing. “I don't think he's coming.”
“Greg?” Brice asked.
“Yeah. We were supposed to meet here at ten, but it's almost ten-thirty now. That's the last time I let myself get suckered into a blind date.” She shrugged. “Oh well, you don't need to hear about my troubles.” She stood and faced him. “You're all laced up. You wanna skate with me?”
“You want me to-to skate with y-you?” Brice raised his eyes to Callie's, surprise in his, amusement in hers.
“Yes,” Callie replied with a smile. “Come on, Craig. You look like you could use a good skate.”
Brice had to bite his tongue. He knew he was spending too much time in the fire house if he had the unconscious reflex to correct her and request that she use his last name. Maybe the time spent with this woman would be good for him. If he could let himself get a word in without stammering.
“Let's go.” She turned on two wheels and led the pace down the paved trail that ran along the beach. They skated until they reached a more touristy area before turning and heading back up the coast. At first the silence between them was uncomfortable, and Brice nervously tried to start a conversation.
“Shhh, no,” Callie admonished with a finger over her lips and stopped. Facing him, she said, “Just listen to the sounds. Filter out the traffic, and listen to everything else. It's a great sensation.” Then she pirouetted and continued on their path.
Brice did as she told him. It was hard to ignore the traffic noise, but he did his best. After awhile, the gentle pounding of the surf, the screeching gulls, and the hum of their wheels on the asphalt mixed together to create a relaxing symphony. Skating to the music of the world around them made the action effortless. It was a shock when Callie suddenly stopped. He kept rolling for several yards before he realized she was no longer beside him.
“Something wrong?” He asked, skating back to her.
“Nope. Just have to take a break. Skating like that can get a little hypnotizing, can't it?” She stretched her legs by lifting one skate, resting her ankle on the back of a park bench, and leaning to the side. Her nose just missed her knee. Brice was mesmerized. He knew if he tried that, not only would he find himself less limber, he would look like an idiot in the process.
Callie sat on the bench and patted the empty space beside her, inviting him to sit. Brice blindly obeyed. He wanted to say something, anything! to her, but he couldn't form the words. He'd never felt like this before, at least not to this degree. He watched Callie as she relaxed against the bench, closed her eyes, and pushed the sunglasses back to her hairline. The wave of auburn hair fell over her back as she tilted her head, curls bouncing, and little sparks of reflected sunlight jumped off the soft tresses. Only his fear could keep him from reaching and running his hand through them. The soft breeze caught a scent of jasmine, or was it something more exotic? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that it was amazing.
When Callie opened her eyes, Brice had the good sense to pretend he was looking at something else and not her. He hated to think what thoughts might be going through her head if she caught him staring.
“I'm hungry,” she stated as she glanced at her watch. “And it's almost noon. You wanna skate back to the boardwalk and grab a bite?”
“S-sure. Sounds like, uh, a great idea.”
”I thought you'd like that,” Callie remarked and winked. Brice felt the blood drain from his face. Did she know I've been gawking at her, and now I'd give anything to spend more time with her? Callie launched herself off the bench, glanced at him over her shoulder and grinned, saying, “I'll race ya there!”
“I-is that wise, after spending all that time sitting here?” Brice sensed her disappointment and felt like an idiot for ruining her fun.
“You're right. It wouldn't be good to get a muscle strain. I'm on my feet all day at work, and pulled muscles can be real hell.” She waited for Brice to stand and skate to her side. “Okay, let's go at a nice leisurely pace, like we did coming out here.”
“That's more like it,” he declared, glancing at her, hoping he wouldn't disappoint her again.
He had nothing to fear. As the couple skated back to the food stands on the boardwalk, they passed the time in virtual silence again. Now and then, Callie pointed out something to him or made an amusing comment about one of the sunbathers on the beach.
“One of the things I like about skating down here is the variety of characters you see,” Callie told him as they approached the boardwalk. “It's fascinating to people watch, don't you think?” To his surprise, she pivoted so she skated backwards, and her eyes were on him. She smiled slyly and before he could join her, she'd already turned and faced forward.
“Y-yes, it is,” he replied, thrown off by her examination. He distracted himself by observing everything that went on around them. “This place would be a great field study for a human behaviorist.”
Callie laughed and swiped a stray curl behind her ear. The motion was not lost on Brice. Even the strong, yet delicate, hand could snag his attention. Callie turned toward the food booths, and he followed. They checked out all the options first and both agreed on salads, which they ate standing at a tall round table engineered for those eating and skating.
“You wanna go around again?” Callie asked after they ate.
“I suppose, if you like.” She could have asked if he wanted to skate around the moon and he would have said yes.
Callie smiled. “You don't have to be so acquiescing, you know. If you don't want to skate, you just have to say so.”
“But I….”
“Come on, be honest with me. You don't want to skate any more, do you?”
He reluctantly nodded, because he really just wanted to spend more time and get to know her. But if they skated the way they did that morning, he wouldn't make any progress.
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't worry about it. I'm glad you said no.” He stared at her. “I'm ready to quit, but I didn't want to wimp out on you.” Their eyes met and for the first time he reciprocated with an easy smile, which made her smile widen. “So, what do you say we take off the skates and just walk the boardwalk for awhile? We don't want to get stiff.”
Brice nodded. “That's a good idea.”
As they walked, Callie told Brice more about herself. She worked as an R.N. at Harbor Hospital for the past year, assigned to the ER, but somehow their paths had never crossed. It finally occurred to her why his name jogged her memory. She had heard of Craig Brice, the Perfect Paramedic, from some of the other staff, and she was always intrigued by their comments.
“I just realized why you looked familiar to me when we first met,” Brice announced suddenly, surprising Callie.
“Oh?”
“I've seen you a few times in the ER,” he admitted shyly, “but we never made contact.”
“And you didn't come up and introduce yourself,” Callie pouted teasingly. “I'm hurt.”
Brice came back with a joking retort of his own. “Well, I'm very sorry. Next time I see a pretty nurse I haven't met yet, I promise I'll be sure to go out of my way and introduce myself.” He smiled. Not only was she beautiful, she was intelligent and had a sense of humor. This was getting better all the time. What surprised him was that the more time he spent in her presence, the more at ease he felt. Maybe it was the way she spoke to him. He wasn't sure, but it didn't really matter.
It was Callie's turn to respond, which she did with a chuckle. “I like your sense of humor, Craig. Not quite what I expected.”
“Why do you say that?” Brice was puzzled as he turned toward her.
“I have a confession to make,” Callie admitted with a slight blush creeping into her cheeks. She clasped her hands behind her back and continued cautiously, “I've heard people talk about you. I'm afraid it hasn't all been very nice.” She paused, trying to gauge his uncomprehending expression. “But I figure there has to be more to you than what everyone sees.”
“There's always more to a person than meets the eye,” Brice agreed, breathing an inner sigh of relief that she didn't take what people said about him at face value. “I'm sure you're finding that out today.”
“Yes, I am. But based on what I know about you so far, I think you're the last person on the face of the earth I'd expect to find working as a firefighter. Why'd you choose that as a career?”
“What do you think I should be doing?” He looked at her askance.
“You're so intelligent, I'd think you'd be a teacher or a professor or something,” Callie replied, meeting his eyes courageously. She didn't want to offend him, but he just did not look like the stereotypical firefighter.
“I did a lot of soul searching first,” Brice admitted. “My childhood…well, it wasn't the average, pleasant kind. I got out as soon as I could. A lot of people turn out cruel and cold because of similar situations, but I immersed myself in books and learning to escape my home life. I won a scholarship to NYU, but I turned it down.”
“Why?”
“I decided I wanted to do something to change the world.” He smiled sheepishly and gracefully sidestepped around a deposit someone's pet left on the boardwalk. “It was that same desire most young people have, but I wanted it more than anything.”
Callie smiled, noting how easily he moved around the minor obstacle and didn't miss a beat as he talked. “So, you could have gone to med school and been a doctor.”
“Yes, but …” he paused, thinking. There were a lot of unpleasant aspects of his past that could come crawling out if he wasn't careful. “I wanted to do something that I thought would make a bigger, more immediate impact. So I joined the fire department. Then, when the paramedic program came about, I knew I was getting the best of both worlds.”
Callie sighed with contentment. “I love my job. I didn't think I'd ever hear myself say that, and I know that I sure wouldn't have if I'd followed my dad's wishes.” She shook her head. “He wanted me to be a teacher. I'm not crazy about dealing with little brats all day, you know?”
“Speaking of brats….” Brice pointed to the pier. “That child is leaning way too far over the railing.”
“Damn kid's gonna fall and bust his head open,” Callie muttered. “Where are the parents, and why isn't he in school?”
“I don't know, and I'd bet neither does he.”
Without a word to each other, the two began advancing on the little boy and his precarious position. Their hearts stuck in their throats when they saw him climb up the piling until he sat atop it. His legs dangled and his heels banged into the post as he swung his legs casually. He held a fishing rod in one hand, the line in the other, and cast it out. Brice and Callie were almost there when something hooked on the boy's line. He hopped once excitedly and started reeling in his catch, but he certainly didn't expect the fight he got in return.
Brice was two steps away from the child when the line went taut , the rod bent in a great arc, and like a wound spring the whole apparatus launched the little fisherman off the piling into the water below. He screamed going down, abruptly cut off by the blunt trauma of his head hitting a jutting support beam.
“Dammit,” Callie cursed. She and Brice pulled off their shoes and climbed the rail in unconscious synchronization. They dove off the pier, knowing that the water in this area was deep. If they didn't find that boy in the surf immediately, he had no chance at all of surviving.
Brice surfaced first, followed by Callie. “Do you see him?”
“No.” A wave crashed over them, and Callie came up sputtering. “We'll have to dive.” She took a breath and disappeared under the surface.
Brice took a breath and let the next wave take him under. The water was too salty and murky to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds. He felt something crash into him, and instinctively he reached out and grabbed it. It was a form smaller than his.
“I've got him,” Brice announced as he broke the surface. He pushed the boy up until his face came out of the water. Fighting against the strong surf, he reached for the boy's carotid. A wave crashed into Brice, and he almost lost his grip. “Callie!”
“I'm here, Craig. What is it?”
He answered, “He's not breathing. We've got to get him out of here!” Another wave slammed into them and pushed them toward the shore, where they knew the rough surf would only get worse. They needed help now. Brice treaded water and gave the kid two quick rescue breaths, hoping it would be enough until they made it to shore.
“Hey, grab on!” Callie and Brice turned to find a surfer lying flat on his board, reaching out to them. “Come on!”
Together, Brice and Callie pulled the boy to the surfboard. With the surfer's help, they hauled him onto the front of the board. Then they grasped the board, one on each side, and kicked while the surfer paddled them back to shore.
As soon as their feet touched sand, Callie and Brice picked up the waterlogged boy, grabbing him by his clothing, and carried him to the beach. After stretching him out, Callie made sure his head was turned to the side, and Brice straddled the boy to thrust his hands into the boy's abdomen. They exchanged pleased expressions when a large dose of salt water emerged from him.
Callie checked his airway. “He's still not breathing.” She leaned over and gave him two quick breaths, then waited. She shook her head. “Still nothing.” Callie placed her hands over the small chest and pressed down. She heard Brice softly counting as he moved into position. Then he breathed once, and she continued compressions.
Out of the corner of his eye, Brice saw a police officer standing near Callie. “Call a squad and ambulance to our location,” he ordered.
“Already done,” the officer answered, leaning over them with concern in his expression. “You want me to do anything else?”
He breathed into the boy again. “Just get some blankets.”
The officer ran to his car and quickly returned with two blankets in time to see the child respond.
“Hey, I think we got him,” Callie announced. She stopped compressions and Brice checked the carotid.
The corner of his mouth tipped up. “He's got a beat.”
“All right!” The surfer exclaimed and punched his fist in the air in triumph. “That was amazing, you guys!” Callie and Brice exchanged smiles.
They heard a siren announcing the paramedics from 38s. Callie greeted them briefly, reported what happened and what she and Brice did.
“Thanks, Callie. We'll take it over from here,” Steve Turner assured her. “Hey, maybe we'll catch you next shift, eh?” He winked at Callie and noted Brice standing behind her. “Hey, Brice.”
“Turner,” Brice acknowledged with a brief nod. Then, the other paramedic turned his attention to the boy who was now slowly returning to consciousness.
Callie stood by and watched for a few moments, the reality of what they did finally settling on her shoulders. She noticed Brice stood beside her with their shoes in his arms. Someone must have retrieved them from the pier.
“Craig?”
“Yes?” He turned to her.
“Where are your glasses?”