After buying groceries, Johnny turned the key on his narrow mailbox. He
snatched the contents out of the box and carried it up to the apartment.
Setting the paper bag on the kitchen table, he flipped through the envelopes,
"bill, junk mail, Christmas card, what's this?"
He stared at a thin slip of paper. It read 'come to the post office to
retrieve your package.' He scanned it for the hours they were open and
realized they had closed. After holding it for a minute, he pulled
out his wallet and tucked it next to the lone $5.00 bill.
The following morning he dashed off to work, forgetting about the package until
he had to contribute to the chow fund for supper. As he placed the money
in Chet's out-stretched hand the notice fluttered out of his wallet and sailed
to the floor, "what's this?" Chet studied it for a moment. Then he
grinned, "it's probably your order from Columbia House Records."
Johnny snatched it out of his hand, "it is not! I don't belong to that
anymore. Besides it's none of your business!"
Chet pocketed the five dollars, causing Johnny to remember he only owed $1.25.
"Where's my $3.75, Kelly?"
"Johnny, you always eat more than everyone else," as Johnny began protesting
Chet punched him on the arm, "Gage, I'm kidding! You'll get your money."
When the shift ended, Johnny transferred his wallet to his jeans. "I got a
package waiting for me at the post office," he told Roy.
"Oh? Who sent it to you?" Roy gathered up his soiled uniform and got
ready to leave the station.
"It doesn't say but I'm really curious. Wanna see it?" Johnny pulled
his billfold out of his pocket and showed it to Roy.
"Christmas is right around the corner, maybe someone sent you a present."
Roy saw Johnny slam his locker and they both walked toward the parking lot.
Several hours later Johnny stood in line at the post office. It was filled
with customers elbowing each other good naturedly as they waited their turn to
send packages off to their loved ones. At last Johnny handed the call slip
to the clerk and waited. The man disappeared into the back room and
returned carrying a square box. Johnny took it from him and hustled out to
his Land Rover. Once he was in the driver's seat he pulled out his
pocketknife and slit through the tape. After rifling through the newspaper
he lifted out a painted cast iron fire station with doors that opened. He
felt through the remaining newsprint and found a horse drawn steam engine with
two firemen on board and then a small bell to attach to the station. "Man,
who woulda sent this to me?" He shook the remaining packing materials out
of the box and at last a yellowed index card appeared. It read, 'your
grandfather wanted you to have this.' Thoroughly mystified, Johnny studied
the label on the box. It was addressed to him with only a postmark that
read. "Burlington, WI? I don't even know where that is." He
repacked the carton and drove home, wracking his brain to remember anyone he
knew who lived in Wisconsin.
Johnny reopened the box and placed the fire station and engine on his coffee
table. He screwed the bell at the top of the firehouse and jingled it.
Then he sank onto the sofa and stared at the sight in front of him.
Your grandfather wanted you to have this. I never heard about a
grandfather in Wisconsin. He waited for a revelation but none was
forthcoming. The phone jangled, interrupting his reverie. "Hello?
No one named Stew lives here." He hung up and gazed at the mystery in
front of him.
On the next shift he decided to take his new acquisition into the station.
After he parked behind the brick building he grabbed his uniform and the box and
went in the back door. "Whatcha got there, Gage?" Chet asked as he
tucked in his shirt.
"I'll show it to you after I get dressed," Johnny promised, as he placed the
carton carefully in his locker.
He'd no sooner dressed than the tones sounded. Engine 51, rubbish fire.
1322 Winslow. Cross street Elm. Time out 0801. Within
seconds the Ward LaFrance left the station and only he and Roy remained.
Johnny sauntered into the dayroom and found Roy reading the paper. "Roy,
can I show you something?" Without waiting for his partner to reply,
Johnny sped back to the locker room and snatched the box. He set it on the
table and unwrapped the figures in it.
Roy whistled, "would you look at that? Those must be old." Roy
picked up the steam engine and studied it.
"Yeah, this one says 'Pat. 1882." Johnny turned over the
firehouse and pointed out the date on the bottom.
Roy laid the engine down and gave Johnny his attention, "so, who sent this to
you?"
"I'm not sure," Johnny hesitated. "I've been trying to figure that out
ever since I got it."
"Wasn't there a note? Or a return address?" Roy suggested.
Johnny gave him the faded index card. After reading it Roy placed it on
the table. "So what's the problem? It says right here your
grandfather shipped it to you or someone acting on his behalf."
"I KNOW that Roy. But this box came from Wisconsin. I never knew I
had relatives in Wisconsin." Johnny gave his partner a look that was a
mixture of dismay and frustration.
Roy folded the cardboard flap down on the container and examined the mailing
label, "Johnny, this is addressed to John Page, not John Gage."
Johnny grabbed it out of his hands, "it's addressed to me. See?"
"No Johnny. Sometimes the G and the P can look pretty similar in cursive."
"You really think so?" Johnny traced the lettering with his finger.
"Johnny, it looks like you got it by mistake." Roy's face expressed his
sympathy.
Johnny sat down and rested his elbows on the table, "that would explain my
confusion but now what?"
"Perhaps someone by the name of Page lives in your building?" Roy threw
out the idea as he studied the bell in his palm.
Johnny gazed at the ceiling while he thought, "no I know my neighbors. No
Pages." There was silence and then Johnny said, "Roy how we gonna find a
John Page in L.A. County?"
"It is a big area but maybe John Page is a firefighter. Isn't there a
directory in Cap's office?" Roy inserted the bell at the apex of the
station roof and touched it gently with his fingertip. It had a plaintive
ring. As Roy walked toward the equipment bay the engine returned.
The crew streamed into the room, eager to grab a cup of coffee. "Roll call
in five minutes," Hank Stanley announced. "What's this?" His
eyes glittered, "I always thought these old fire toys were something else.
Is it yours Johnny?"
"Well, I thought it was…" Johnny began his explanation as Chet grabbed the fire
engine off the table, "be careful with that!"
"Is this what you were hiding in that box?" Chet whapped the bell on the
station and Johnny's face darkened.
"Hands off, Chet!" He gave him an intense stare until Chet backed away.
"Now Cap, as I was trying to tell you, someone mailed this to me. Well, it
came to my address but we think it belongs to John Page."
"How ya gonna find a Page around here?" Chet asked with interest, tugging
on his mustache.
Roy came back into the dayroom with the Los Angeles County firefighters
directory, "we're gonna try. Johnny, there's a Jim Page and a Joe Page but
no John Page."
"Maybe their kids are named John," Marco offered, reaching for the empty plate
sitting on the table.
Johnny shoved his chair back, "yeah. That's as good as any place to
start."
"Well, lemme know how it goes, Johnny. If you can't find the rightful
owner I might be interested in taking it off your hands." The captain
informed him. With a brief look of longing at the antiques on the table,
Captain Stanley left the room, picked up his clipboard and announced roll call.
After a quiet morning the crew sat down to lunch. As Johnny reached for
the plate of cold cuts he asked, "Cap, can I make a few phone calls after
lunch?"
"Aren't you on dish duty?" The captain slathered his bread with mustard
and passed it to Mike.
"I'll clean up," Marco offered, "I was just gonna read the paper for a few
minutes anyway."
"Thanks Marco. I owe ya one," Johnny spit a few crumbs out of his full
mouth as he spoke. When Johnny's plate was empty he rose from the table.
Roy helped Marco clear the table, eating the last few carrot sticks that
remained on the plate.
"I hope Johnny finds the rightful owner. Those looked pretty valuable to
me." Marco said as the sink filled with hot water.
"Yeah, I imagine there's a story behind them, too." Roy added as he picked
up a dishtowel and dried a glass.
Johnny exited from Cap's office, "well. I got ahold of both them. They
have children but no Johns." He perched on the arm of the leather sofa,
"think I should put an ad in the paper?" Before he could ponder his
problem any longer the tones sounded. Station 51. Unknown type rescue
ADDRESS. 3909 West Wheland Street. Cross street Main. Time out
1337.
The squad and engine pulled up to an empty parking lot. Two women stood
facing each other, "you pushed that cart into my car on purpose!" The
infuriated woman slammed her shiny Buick door and glowered at a tiny woman
wearing curlers.
"I'm sorry. I put it right by my trunk and it must've rolled while I
unlocked it." The nose of her rusted yellow VW bug stood open.
The Buick owner threw her shoulders back and pointed at her driver's side, "look
at that damage! My husband will be furious!"
The captain came closer, "is there a fire here or an injury?" He saw a
crowd gathering as they saw the flashing lights on the equipment.
A man, wearing an apron stepped forward, "I called. I thought we might
need your help. I'm the manager of the store."
Johnny came closer and knelt in front of the Buick, "I don't see any dent or
scratch, ma'am." He gave her a friendly smile.
"What do you know, young man? My husband owns a dealership. He
didn't know I borrowed his special edition Electra 225." She ran her
finger over the site of impact as she spoke.
A police officer approached, "whatcha got Hank?"
"Vince, I think you can handle this," the Captain gave him a gracious smile and
the men of 51 walked back toward their vehicles.
Johnny's thought returned to his personal problem on the ride back to the
station. Pivoting toward his partner, Johnny mused, "there's gotta be some
way to find John Page. Hey Roy, think I could call Burlington?"
"If it's a small town they might be able to help you. It wouldn't hurt."
Roy signaled to make a left turn into the station and waited for an oncoming car
to pass.
Johnny marched into the dayroom and searched through his pockets for change.
He pulled out a dime, stuck his finger in the '0' and dialed. A
woman's voice came on the line, "This is the operator. How may I help
you?"
Perching on the ledge by the phone, Johnny informed her, "could you connect me
with the operator in Burlington, Wisconsin?" He heard several transfers
take place before another voice greeted him.
"Good afternoon, who would you like in Burlington?" Johnny smiled at her
pleasant Midwest twang and tried to envision what she looked like.
"Uh, I'm hoping you can help me find someone who used to live in Burlington,"
Johnny played with the phone cord while he chatted.
He heard her chair squeak as she questioned him, "what number would you like?"
"This is gonna sound odd but I'm trying to find a man named Page. At least
I think that's his name. Ya see, ma'am," Johnny stammered for a second, "I
got a package I shouldn't have from someone named Page."
There was a short silence, "I'm sorry sir. I don't have a record of any
Page."
Johnny's face fell, "are you sure? Could you check again?"
"No, nothing. I only started working here last month. I can't tell
you anymore."
Feeling defeated, he hung up and trudged over to Roy's side, "It was a
dead end."
"Sorry Johnny. I know you wanted to find the rightful owner," Roy tidied
the newspapers and put them on top of the television. "Maybe you'll just
hafta hold onto it."
"Roy, if it was for me I'd love to keep it. But I keep thinking someone
out there is gonna miss out on something really special if they never get it."
Johnny rubbed his hand across his chin and sighed heavily.
As the shift progressed, the station stayed busy with runs and Johnny had no
time to contemplate his mystery package. He remembered it when he opened
his locker, "I guess I better take it home. I wouldn't want anything to
happen to it."
"I'll keep it safe for ya, Gage!" Chet said with a grin, slapping Johnny
on the back.
Johnny nearly dropped the box, "Kelly! Get outta here! You're gonna
break it!"
Chet waltzed past him, giving him a wide berth and exited.
After running several errands, Johnny put the carton on the kitchen table but he
made no effort to take the contents out. His frustration increased each
time he noticed it.
The following morning he glanced at the calendar, as he got ready to leave his
apartment for his next shift, 'December 23.' Christmas will be here in
no time. The box stared at him. Sure wish I could put this
under someone's tree. Without giving it deep thought, he picked up and
put it in the back of the Land Rover.
They'd been on duty for several hours when the klaxons sounded. Squad
51. Child down. 283 Lake Drive. Cross street Westside.
Time out 1003.
The paramedics barreled out of the station and drew up to a home. Johnny
unlatched the compartment door and pulled out the drug box while Roy got the
biophone. As they made their way to the front door a small face appeared.
"Are you hurt?" Roy asked a young boy with a dirty face.
He shook his head, "he's back there." He turned around and walked toward
the backyard, not waiting for Roy and Johnny to follow him.
They spotted a motionless boy with a woman hovering over him, "I heard yelling
and went to check on my boys and there he was lying on the ground."
She moved back to give the paramedics space to work and they saw the odd angle
of his upper left arm.
"Do you know who he is?" Roy opened the biocom while Johnny began to
evaluate his condition.
"I heard someone scream 'John!' But by the time I got outside he was the
only one in sight. He hasn't moved or anything. Is he gonna be
okay?" She glanced around the area for her children. "Benny, come
here." She knelt in front of him, "do you know what happened?"
Benny avoided eye contact with his mother, "he was playing with Buddy and Melvin
and fell from the tree house."
"Where are Buddy and Melvin now?" His mother put her hands on his
shoulders.
"They run off. I think they got scared." Buddy wriggled out of his
mother's grasp and ran toward the front yard.
Roy studied the yard. Not too far from the boy was a gnarled tree with
boards, acting as steps, nailed into the trunk. About ten feet up was a
crudely constructed platform. Perhaps the boy had fallen from there.
Johnny deflated the BP cuff, "Roy, BP is 100/60, pulse is 100, respirations are
30 and pupils are equal and reactive." He reached for a splint to
immobilize the lad's arm.
They heard the approach of the ambulance as its siren neared and then abruptly
stopped. Roy switched on the biophone. Rampart, this is County 51. How
do you read?
Johnny attempted to get some more information out of the woman, "so this boy
plays with your children? Do you know where he lives?"
She gave him a look of helplessness, "I'm sorry. This is the first time I
ever saw him. My boys might be able to tell you something if I could find
them!" Her expression changed to one of anger as she hollered, "Buddy!
Melvin! Git on home!" But no one appeared.
Go ahead, 51. Dr. Early replied.
Rampart, we have an unconscious boy, approximately 9 years old. It
appears he fell from a tree and fractured his left arm. We've applied a splint.
Vitals are: pulse 100, respirations 30, BP 100/60 and pupils are equal and
reactive. We don't have permission to treat him.
Dr. Early jotted down the information. Is there an ambulance at the
scene?
10-4, Rampart.
Transport as soon as possible.
"Malcolm, would ya get a backboard from the squad?" Johnny shut the drug
box as the attendants came closer. They transferred the boy onto the
backboard and lifted him onto the stretcher. Something shiny on the ground
caught Johnny's attention, "Roy, would ya look at this?" He reached down
and picked up a lighter.
"Think he was trying to start a fire and he fell?" Roy gazed at the smooth
silver, hoping to find a clue.
"It's a possibility," Johnny glanced up to see the stretcher at the doors to the
ambulance. "I'll go in with him." The two men made their way to the
street. Roy gave Johnny the biocom and saw the woman was beside him.
"Ma'am, it's very important that we find out who this boy is. Please call
Rampart Hospital if you learn anything." Roy saw a man from the LA County
sheriff's department get out of his squad car and approach the woman. Roy
briefed him and left him to question the woman.
Dixie walked beside the stretcher as Johnny escorted his patient into Treatment
Room 3. "How's he doing?"
"His vitals are still stable but he hasn't come around yet. We think his
name is John but we're not sure." He followed the gurney into the room
where Dr. Early waited, "need me Doc?"
"No Johnny, go ahead." Dr. Early unwrapped his stethoscope as the
attendants put him on the exam table.
Roy found Johnny standing at the base station swirling coffee in his cup.
"The police are trying to find out who he is." Roy told him as checked the
drug box to see if they needed any supplies.
"Did you give them the lighter?" Johnny stretched and put his half-full
mug down.
Roy felt a hard lump in his pocket, "I still have it. I'll give it to
Dixie." He put it on the counter and saw Dixie coming toward them.
"Whatcha got there Roy?" Dixie whisked past him and set some paperwork at
the corner of the desk.
Roy held the lighter out to her; "we found this at the scene. It might
help somehow."
"Thanks, Roy." Dixie set it aside and opened the drug cabinet.
Johnny moved out of her way, "any change on the boy?"
"No Johnny. He's still unconscious. We'll keep an eye on him and
hopefully get parental permission to treat him real soon."
Squad 51, what's your status? The noise startled the trio, available.
Roy notified the dispatcher. "We better go, Dixie. Catch ya later."
Both men remained silent on the return trip, but as they got closer to the
station Roy could sense that Johnny was angry. "Wanna talk about
it?" Roy offered as he parked the squad.
"About what?" Johnny answered abruptly and stalked off. During
lunch Johnny ate but didn't say much. As he reached for some more bread he
knocked over his milk.
"Gage, you can mop the floor after lunch," Captain Stanley informed him.
"Aw, Cap. It was an accident!" Johnny gave him a pleading look as he
rose to clean up the milk.
"I know that Gage. But C-shift didn't get a chance to do the floor
yesterday and it needs it." Hank Stanley leaned back in his chair and
surveyed his crew.
When lunch was over Marco did the dishes and Johnny got the mop out and began
swabbing the floor. After Marco left, Johnny leaned on the mop handle and
gazed off into space. Chet came into the dayroom and tiptoed into the
room, "so Gage, what's got your goat?"
Johnny stood up, almost knocking over the bucket. "Don't startle me!"
"C'mon Gage, some nurse refuse another date with you? You're mad about
something." Chet stood closer to Johnny, causing him to step back.
"I'm not mad about anything but I'm gonna get that way if you don't leave me
alone!" Johnny retorted, raising his voice.
"You are too!" Chet shouted.
Hank Stanley barged out of his office, "what is the problem here gentlemen?"
He put his hands on his hips and waited for an explanation.
Roy came in from the equipment bay, "I'll talk to him, Cap."
"Told ya it wasn't my fault!" Chet shoved his hands in his pockets while
Roy guided Johnny behind the station.
"Kelly, you can finish the floor," the captain shook his head briefly and walked
off.
"Cap, that's not fair!" Chet whined as he lifted the mop off the floor and
began the job.
Roy watched Johnny stare at the traffic whizzing by on the highway, "Johnny,
something's been bothering you ever since we took that boy into Rampart.
What is it?"
"Do you realize what might've happened if the lighter had started a fire and
then the boy landed on it?" Johnny said at last.
"Yeah, it could've been catastrophic. You know Johnny, I don't think that
lighter belonged to the kid."
Johnny gave Roy his attention, "really? What makes you an expert?"
"I know when Chris is proud of something he did he wants everyone to know it but
if he does something wrong he hides or won't talk."
Johnny still didn't understand, "but Roy. The kid was unconscious.
He couldn't say anything!"
"Johnny, the only one at the scene was the injured boy. The mother kept
calling for her children. Now if they'd been heroes you can bet they
woulda stood there and made sure we knew they'd saved the day." Roy shared
his philosophy.
It was quiet as Johnny mulled over Roy's theory, "yeah. That does make
sense. I wonder how he's doing?" He bounded off to call the
hospital.
As Roy entered the station he heard Johnny on the phone, "they find his mother
yet, Dixie? And how's he doing? Thanks."
Johnny put the receiver back in the cradle and saw his partner, "Johnny just got
out of surgery to set his arm. His mom's there and it looks like he's
gonna be fine."
Roy smiled, "I'm glad to hear that."
"Roy? When we go by the hospital again could we check on him?"
Johnny saw the freshly washed floor with his footprints on it and scampered out
of the room.
Roy heard Johnny knock on Captain Stanley's open door, "Cap? Do you mind
if we make a quick run to the hospital?"
"Yeah, go ahead but stay available." The captain smiled at Johnny's
renewed eagerness as he bent over his paperwork.
Roy overheard the conversation and climbed into the squad, Squad 51, 10-8 to
Rampart. Johnny settled into the passenger seat and they headed off to
the hospital. Johnny hustled up to Miss McCall, waiting impatiently while
she gave orders to a student nurse.
"Well, hi Johnny. Did you bring someone in?"
"No, we just came by to see the boy we brought in earlier." Johnny rocked
on his heels as he spoke to the head nurse.
"Room 317, Johnny." He sped off to direct Roy toward the elevators.
They found the room and Johnny rapped gently on the door.
"Come in," Johnny saw a nurse checking on the child and stood aside so she could
get around him. After she left, Johnny spied a woman in early thirties
holding her son's hand.
"Hello?" she asked, not recognizing either man.
Johnny pointed to himself and Roy, "we work as paramedics with Los Angeles
County Fire Department. We're the ones who brought your boy into Rampart
this morning. I'm Johnny Gage and this is Roy DeSoto. I hear he's
doing better."
"I'm Emily Stevens. Nice to meet you and this is my son John," the
introductions halted when the patient stirred in the bed. "Hi there,
how're ya feeling?" Mrs. Stevens spoke softly to her son.
He cringed, "my arm hurts, Mom. Was anybody else hurt?"
She exchanged glances with the paramedics, "I don't think so."
"Son, could you tell us what happened?" Roy drew closer to the bedside.
John winced when he tried to shift his position in the bed, "will I get anybody
in trouble?" His mother patted his hand and he continued, "me and Buddy
and Melvin were hanging out and we found a lighter. They thought it'd be
cool to take it up into their tree house and burn a few leaves. I told 'em
it was a dumb idea." He paused, "so I climbed up after them and wrestled
the lighter outta Buddy's hand. It fell and I tried to grab it. I
don't remember anything else." A single tear rolled down his cheek.
"Your grandpa woulda been very proud of you, John," his mother brushed his
forehead with a kiss. Turning to the paramedics she announced, "he was a
fireman."
"Does your grandfather live in Los Angeles?" Johnny asked with interest.
The woman took over the conversation, "no. "My husband died several years
ago in an auto accident. I remarried last year and we moved to Los
Angeles."
"How's it going?" Roy probed gently.
"Well, John's had some real adjustments. Burlington was such a small
place." She saw her son's eyes closing slowly.
"Burlington? In Vermont?" Johnny felt excitement surging over him.
"No, actually it's in Wisconsin." Mrs. Stevens clarified, "have you been
there?"
Johnny felt like leaping into the air. He felt close to finding out who
the package might belong to. "No, but I've been trying to track down someone
named John Page."
"That's my son! He's John Stevens now because we thought it would
make things easier if he had his new father's name. So we changed his name
right after we moved." John moved in the bed, wide awake now.
"You mean your son…HE'S John Page?" Johnny grinned widely. "Roy?
Ya think we could hurry back to the station and get, well…you know?"
"As long as we're on call, sure." Roy felt Johnny's contagious enthusiasm.
"We'll be right back. Have we got a surprise for you! You aren't
gonna believe this!" The occupants of 317 watched the paramedics leave and
wondered what was going on.
"Honey, why don't you get some rest?" Mrs. Stevens urged.
He yawned, "Mom, I don't wanna sleep right now!"
Twenty minutes later, Johnny and Roy returned to the hospital room. Johnny
carefully placed the cardboard box next to the boy's right arm. "I think I
got this by mistake." Johnny said, pleased to find the rightful owner.
"Mom, would you help me take the stuff out?" John removed the first
wrapped item and let his mother unroll the newspaper surrounding it. She
placed the old station on his rolling bedside table.
Her face became wistful, "I remember this." John reached into the
box and took out the next piece. With care she revealed the steam engine
drawn by the painted horses.
"Mom!" John said almost reverently, "these were Grandpa's. He always
said they'd be mine some day!"
"Don't forget this," Johnny fished in the box and located the small bell that he
attached to the top of the station. It rang softly as he moved his fingers
away. Johnny started to place the box on the floor when Mrs. Stevens
interrupted him.
"Is there anything else in the box?" She asked, hoping to receive a
positive answer.
Johnny shook his head and then recalled the note he'd found in it. "Only
this," he leaned across the bed and gave her the faded index card.
"That Ole Gooch," she expressed, sniffling.
"Pardon me?" Roy's face mirrored the confusion on Johnny's.
Mrs. Stevens glanced at her son, "Gooch was my father-in-law's best friend. They
worked together as volunteer firefighters. Tad Page was captain for many
years and everyone kidded him about being old. There was a running joke at
the station that nothing was older than Tad. One day Gooch was at an
antique store and found these. Gooch gave them to him for Christmas and
said, 'now you own the oldest thing at the station too!' Tad died in his
sleep about a year ago and Gooch asked if he could hold onto them for awhile
until he was ready to let them go."
John had listened while his mother told the story, "Mom, can we invite Gooch to
come and visit us?"
She gave him a quick hug, "of course, dear."
Johnny took the box off the bed for John and smiled at him, "John, how would you
like to visit a Los Angeles County fire station sometime?"
John's eyes sparkled, "could I?"
"And invite your friend Gooch to come too." Roy added, gently pulling Johnny
toward the door.
"Merry
Christmas!" Johnny called as the paramedics left the room. As they ambled down
the hall, he flung his arm onto Roy's shoulder and exclaimed, "ya know Roy. It
is better to give than to receive!"
*Click above to send Marty P feedback
Christmas Stories Page Stories by Marty P.
