Fire captain John Gage of Station 17's A-shift parked his battered white Land Rover in front of the DeSoto residence secure in the knowledge that his best friend was not at home. Joanne DeSoto met him on the porch and held the door for him.
"Come on in, Johnny. Roy's not home yet." It was a statement but also a question. She must have read, in Johnny's easy demeanor, that he wasn't there with bad news. Still, the anxiety never went completely away.
"He'll be along in a little while," Johnny reassured her. "He's gonna be beat when he gets here, though. Ninety-nines had a real bear -- fire at an abandoned gas station. There were still some dregs in the fuel tanks and they were on it all night. I heard them heading back to the station just as I was leaving. Anyway, I came to see you."
Joanne led the way into the kitchen and poured Johnny a cup of coffee without bothering to ask if he wanted it. They sat at the table to drink coffee and talk. "Me? What's up? Is Miranda okay?"
Johnny grinned at the mention of his wife. He had been married for just over a year and they were expecting their first baby any day now. "Fine. She's fine. At least the doctor said she was fine." He thought about it, his eyes clouding over. "They would . . . they would tell me if she wasn't fine, wouldn't they?"
Joanne rolled her eyes. "Yes, Johnny, I'm sure they'd tell you. Sheesh! Try not to be so paranoid!"
He blushed slightly and shrugged. "Can't help it. I worked with Chet Kelly for too long. Paranoia becomes second nature." He made a brushing motion with his hand, as though to sweep the subject away, and leaned forward. "Listen, Joanne . . . what's Roy's middle name?"
"Johnny!" she protested. "You know I promised him I wouldn't tell anybody! Wives should keep promises to their husbands, don't you think?"
Johnny grinned. "Well, yeah," he agreed. "But this is different. This is important, Jo! I really need to know. And I promise you I'm not gonna rib him about it no matter how awful it is. And . . . and it can't be worse than Chet's middle name and we found that out, so please?"
"Why do you need to know?"
Johnny drew in a deep breath through his nose and thought about it for a minute, then leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered his voice, even though they were the only two in the house. "Keep a secret? Promise? Really promise?"
"Yes, I really promise!"
"Okay, well, if it's okay with Miranda, and if it's a boy, I'd like to name the baby after Roy."
Joanne's eyes misted over and she got up and came around the table to give Johnny a hug. "Oh, that's so sweet! That would mean so much to Roy!"
"Yeah, well," Johnny shifted his shoulders uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "He's a great guy. He's always been a really great friend to me and I'd just like to . . . y'know . . . and besides, a kid needs a name to grow into, you know and, uh . . ." He shrugged again, his voice trailing off.
"Yeah, I know. Okay, well, here's the deal. Roy's middle name is Andrew."
"Andrew? That's it? Andrew's not bad. Heck, I was expecting something like Ichabod or Eustace, you know?"
"I think Roy would almost prefer something like Eustace."
"But why?"
"Well, you know that when Roy was a kid, after his dad died, he and his mom were really poor, right? So his clothes were always worn out and mended and re-mended. Second-hand stuff that was either too big or too small. And his hair was bright red back then, as red as a penny, plus he had freckles. So when the other kids found out his middle name was Andrew, they started calling him Raggedy Andy.
"And, I don't know if you'll know what I mean, Johnny. It wasn't teasing. It was really mean-spirited. If someone wanted to insult him, they called him that. He hated it! It pretty much died out in grade school, but then when we were out of school and I told my mom that I wanted to marry Roy, she had a fit because I was going to marry 'Raggedy Andy'. She said he was just a worthless little tramp who'd never amount to anything. He was right outside and heard the whole conversation. And to this day, if she wants to be mean to him, Mom calls him that."
"Yeah," Johnny said reluctantly, "I guess I can see why he wouldn't like the name. But it is his name. And, and we could name the baby that and he could just go by Roy, like Roy does."
"Oh, but you don't want to name the baby Roy Andrew Gage, Johnny!" Joanne was horrified.
"I don't? Well, why not then?"
"The initials! R.A.G. Rag. Other kids would tease him. You've always got to think about the initials when you come up with a baby name! That's why we didn't name Chris 'Christopher Oliver'!"
"Christopher Oliver DeSoto," Johnny mused. "C.O.D."
"Exactly!"
There came the sound of Roy's little sports car pulling into the driveway and they both sat up straight and shushed each other. After a few seconds the back door opened and Roy came in, still sweaty and soot-covered, shoulders drooping with fatigue. "Ah ha," he mumbled tiredly, "I caught you. I always suspected you two had something going on the side."
Johnny leaned back, laced his fingers behind his head and grinned at the older man. "Hey, somebody's gotta keep the lady satisfied, Pally, and you're sure not getting any younger here."
"I don't feel any younger," Roy agreed. "Did you need something, Junior?"
Johnny hadn't come up with a reason for showing up that morning and the question caught him unprepared. "I, uh," he floundered.
"I asked him to stop by," Joanne said easily.
Johnny pounced on the excuse. "Yeah! She did! She asked me to come by. Only, uh, she hasn't told me why yet." Roy was standing with his back to them, pouring a cup of coffee, and Johnny shot Joanne a look. He shrugged elaborately, spread his hands and made a face. She rolled her eyes and got to her feet.
"You remember my cousin Megan, Johnny? The one with --"
"The one with the great personality? That was, um . . . ."
"A dog? Yeah, that one." Joanne grinned at his discomfiture. "Well, she and her husband had their fifth baby last year."
"Fifth? As in FIVE? She's got a husband now?"
"Yes, a very nice husband. He's a model. Anyway, she had a baby last year and when I told her you were expecting your first she sent you over a box of baby clothes." Joanne went into the laundry room and came back with a box of clothes.
"Another one?" Johnny goggled as he took the box. "That's really sweet, Joanne. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, it's just, this is about the dozenth box you've given us. You know we have enough baby clothes now to dress the kid in a different outfit every day for the rest of his life. Well, if he lives to be about a hundred and provided he never gets any bigger than --" Johnny held up a little romper.
Roy sank tiredly into a chair, took a sip of coffee and grinned at his friend. "What you don't need, just pass on to someone else," he said. "Besides, you're gonna need more clothes than you think you will. Babies are very creative when it comes to ways to get messy. Little boys don't settle down to one outfit a day until they hit grade school, if then. And little girls never do!"
"Right. Well," Johnny stood up and picked up the box, "listen, I'd better get out of here and let you get some rest. I'll be back about two to pick you up, okay?"
"I could come pick you up," Roy offered with no real enthusiasm.
"No way! It's my turn to drive."
"I thought you drove last time?"
Johnny snorted. "After all that time with Squad 51, it's my turn to drive for about the next ten years! Besides, I'm awake and you're not."
Roy chuckled and gave in. "Okay, then. Two o'clock?"
"Two o'clock!"
The two men's eyes met in a moment of shared hope and fear and excitement and anxiety. When the L.A. Fire Department had reversed itself and decided that a Captain could be allowed to hold paramedic certification, Roy DeSoto and John Gage had been the first two to sign up, using the same "lucky" green pen that Roy had given to Johnny to sign his application with the first time around. They had completed the refresher course the week before and three days ago they took the recertification test. The scores were going to be posted this afternoon.
Johnny nodded one last time and ducked out the door, the box tucked under his arm. Roy waited until his friend's footfalls had died away and the sound of his car door slamming reached them.
"So what did Johnny come over for, really?"
Joanne smiled. "He was worried about Miranda. Nothing serious."
"Ah. He could have asked me."
"Yeah, but you know, some women don't like it when their husbands talk about them to their best friends." She gave her own husband a meaningful look and he blushed and grinned.
"I guess they don't, do they?" He took another drink of coffee, then sighed and pushed the cup away. "You make great coffee, but I'm too tired to drink it."
"That's okay, honey. Come upstairs and I'll get you cleaned up and have my way with you."
"Do I have to be awake for that?"
"Not necessarily."
#-#-#-#-
In the three years since he'd become a fire captain, John Gage's life had made several changes. In addition to having a wife and an almost-baby, he had also become a homeowner.
He drove up to his house -- a one-story ranch on a small acreage with an old barn and some pasture for their two yearling horses -- and parked in the yard. All the way home he'd been thinking about middle names and now he sat in the car for a minute, trying to collect his thoughts.
No A names, he thought, because of the initial thing. What about other vowels?
"Roy Edward Gage," he said aloud. "R.E.G. Reg. That's not so bad. Not great, but not so bad. How about I? What starts with I? Ichabod. Roy Ichabod Gage. R.I.G." He tipped his head and shrugged. "That could be a cool nickname. Maybe not Ichabod, though. How about O? Oliver. Roy Oliver Gage. R.O.G. Rog." Johnny grinned, having fun. "A E I O U. U. Ulysses! Now there's a great name! Roy Ulysses Gage! R.U.G.! Rug. Rug?" His grin faded, then he quirked up a corner of his mouth, shrugged to himself and got out of the car. "Oh, well."
He went in through the front door and called out for his wife, but the house had an empty feel about it. Fighting a quickly-rising panic, he went into the kitchen and found a note on the table.
"Hi, sweetie! Shopping with Bobbi Sue. Back after lunch. Love, your wife and child."
Johnny sighed with relief. Bobbi Sue was his sister-in-law, a seventeen-year-old high school junior in search of the perfect prom dress. Johnny was far from a skinflint, but it still didn't hurt his husbandly feelings to know that this shopping trip wasn't likely to affect their bank account.
It was after one before the two women drove up and came in, giggling together. Miranda was a small brunette with big hair and, at the moment, an enormous pregnant baby belly. She had given up platform shoes and miniskirts after the first trimester and at the moment she was wearing maternity jeans and an oversize red tee shirt that had "L.A.F.D. Training Academy" on the back and, on the front, "future firefighter in the making!" Johnny leaned down and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.
"There you are!" he exclaimed. "I didn't think you were going to make it back in time!"
"In time for what?"
"Oh, well. I just wanted to see you, is all. And I've got to go pick up Roy in a little bit."
"I know," she said. "Anyway we're here now and I am SO excited! I couldn't wait to get home and tell you!"
"Yeah? Really? Uh, tell me what?"
She pushed him towards the couch. He sat down and she balanced on the broad arm of it beside him and beamed at him. He grinned at her in anticipation.
"I thought of the perfect boy's name!" she said.
Johnny's grin froze as he fought hard not show his dismay and wondered what he could safely say at this point. "Well, you came up with a great girl's name," he ventured. What he actually meant, of course, was "and since you thought of the girl's name, isn't it my turn to think of the boy's?" He was pretty sure, though, that if he said that it would lead to tears and he hated when a conversation led to tears, even if what he was saying felt really fair on his part.
It occurred to him, not for the first time, that he had never given Roy enough credit when they were riding together. Being a husband was hard! Not only that, but Johnny had only had a few months to learn all the secrets of having a wife before he suddenly had to learn a whole new set of secrets for having a pregnant wife.
"The boy's name is even better!" Miranda gushed. "And you gave me the idea yourself!"
"I did?" Johnny perked up, wondering if he'd said something about naming the baby after his partner. Wouldn't that be something, he thought, if we both thought of the same name without talking about it!
"Sure," Miranda said. "Remember when you were talking about names and about how it's important for a little boy to have a good, strong name, and how you'd like to name him after somebody he can really look up to as he's growing up?"
"Yeah?" Johnny asked eagerly.
"Well, I was thinking while we were shopping today and we got some peanut-butter cups and naturally that made me think of George Washington Carver and that made me think about how strong and distinguished it always sounds when someone is named after a president, you know? Both names and then their surname, like George Washing Carver or Benjamin Franklin Pierce or John Adams McGillicuddy."
"John Adams McGillicuddy?"
"Right! So then I thought how great it would be if we named our baby after a famous president!"
Richard Nixon Gage, Johnny thought, and wasn't quite able to suppress a shudder. "Did you --" he started, then stopped and swallowed in an attempt to get his voice back down into its normal register. "Did you have a certain president in mind?"
"Yeah! Okay, are you ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," Johnny said, forcing a smile.
"Okay." She held her hands up in the air, as if framing her own words. "Hubert Humphrey Gage!"
"Hubert Humphrey Gage," he echoed dazedly.
"Yeah! Isn't it adorable? Just think! We can call him Hubie when he's little. Or Humph! Or Huggy Bear! Isn't that sweet?"
Eyes distant, Johnny envisioned the scene. Hi, I'm John Gage and this is my son. Humph. He swallowed hard again.
Miranda slid into his lap, fisted her hands in the front of his shirt and beamed up at him. "Don't you just love it? Tell me you love it!"
"Oh, uh, well, naturally I love it --" he began.
"Wonderful! So it's settled!" She kissed him. "You make me so happy!"
Eyes glazed over, Johnny hugged her grimly. "Well," he said, "that's my job."
Suddenly she slapped at his arm and pushed him away. "Honey! Look at the time! When are you supposed to pick up Roy?"
He looked up at the clock in dismay. "At two. Man! I'm gonna be late. Look, I mean, listen, I've gotta go. We can talk when I get back, okay?"
"Okay, honey," she said innocently. "What did you want to talk about?"
"Oh, er, uh," he thought fast, "you still haven't told me about your shopping trip!"
"Oh. Okay. I'll see you when you get back then. Good luck!"
#-#-#-#-
Johnny drove fast and made it to the DeSotos' with a few minutes to spare. Roy waved him in and he joined them in the living room for a cup of coffee. Joanne was sitting in an armchair sewing and their twelve-year-old daughter Jennifer was lying on her back on the floor with her feet up on another armchair, reading a book. After a few seconds Joanne lay aside her needlework and spoke reluctantly.
"I talked to Dixie earlier," she said.
The men looked up, alarmed by her tone. "Oh?" Roy prompted.
"Yeah. Listen, honey, Johnny, I know you both have your hearts set on this whole paramedic thing, but you know, having the certification isn't going to affect your jobs in the slightest. Or not having it, I mean. If you didn't pass, you know. I mean, it isn't going to affect your rank or your pay scale, and your men already think the world of both of you."
"Joanne," Roy said, his voice soft, "are you trying to tell us that we failed?"
"No! I mean, um, no. Not necessarily, no. I'm just saying that it might be good for you to, you know, prepare yourselves for the possibility. And even if you did, you can always take it again, you know! You took it twice the last time, Roy."
"But I passed it the first time. The second time I was helping to teach it!"
"I know, sweetheart," she said miserably.
"What did Dixie say, exactly?" Johnny asked. "Has she seen the scores? Did she tell you we failed?"
"No, she hasn't seen the scores. She just told me what the instructor said."
"And that was . . .?" Roy prompted.
Joanne shook her head sadly. "He said he just didn't feel like either of you had learned very much from him."
The two men took a minute to digest this. "It's the new protocols," Roy said, dread in his voice. "That's gotta be it. We screwed up on the new protocols. They're giving paramedics a lot more freedom now than we ever had, but you have to know the protocols."
"But, Roy," Johnny protested, "we studied that! How many hours did we spend sitting here, or over at my house, or in our offices at work, going over and over and over the new protocols?"
"Yeah, I know that. But what else could it be?"
Johnny dropped his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "I thought we knew it. I thought we had it all down pat." They sat for a few minutes in a sad silence and then Johnny slapped his knees and stood up. "Well, come on, Pally. We might as well go face the music. We'll see how we did and then maybe we can get an idea of what we need to work on next time."
Roy and Johnny left together. When the sound of Johnny's car had died away Joanne picked up her sewing and smiled to herself as she resumed the work. Jenny looked over at her.
"Mom, did Dad and Uncle Johnny fail their test?"
Joanne smiled at her daughter and shook her head.
"But their teacher said they didn't learn anything?"
"Come to think of it, that wasn't quite how he phrased it. What he actually said was that he learned more from them than they learned from him."
"Oh. But then, why did you tell them that? They're really sad!"
"I know, but think how happy they'll be when they find out they passed!"
#-#-#-#-
Driving across town, Johnny hit his palm on the steering wheel in frustration. "Man, this day just keeps getting better and better."
Roy was leaning back in the passenger seat, staring glumly up at the headliner, obviously miserable himself. He glanced over, concerned. "Trouble at home?"
"No. Yeah. No. Well, kinda."
"Fight with Miranda?"
"No." Johnny snorted. "There coulda been, but I didn't push it."
"Wanta talk about it?"
"Yeah, but it's something I'm not supposed to talk about." He drummed his fingers on the wheel. "Baby names," he said finally, reluctantly.
"Ah." Roy nodded his understanding.
"We agreed, you know, not to tell anybody what names we'd picked until the baby's born. Although, her little sister knows. And her mom knows. And I'm pretty sure that several of her friends know. Man! How come women are allowed to tell secrets to their friends and guys aren't allowed to tell secrets to their friends?"
Roy gave him his sweet smile. "Junior, I been trying to figure that one out for years! If you want to talk about it, I won't tell anyone, I promise."
"Well, it's just," Johnny hesitated, weighing how much he could safely say. "Don't you think, Roy, that if the wife picks out the girl name then the husband had ought to be able to pick out the boy name? I mean, that seems fair to me! Doesn't it seem fair to you?"
"Yeah," Roy grinned ruefully, "but a lot of time fair doesn't come into it in marriage. She picked out a boy's name?"
Johnny nodded sadly.
"You don't like it?"
Johnny shook his head.
"You wanted something else?"
"No!" Johnny was quick with the denial, but then he sighed. "Yeah," he admitted, "I wanted something else. But, Roy, even if I didn't, this name she's fallen for is, I mean really! It's just horrible!"
"What is it?"
"Well, she's decided she wants to name it after a president. You know?"
"Like Abraham Lincoln Gage? Or John Kennedy Gage?"
Johnny stopped at a stop sign and looked over at Roy. "Promise not to laugh?"
"No."
That at least got a smile from the young father-to-be. "Well, at least you're honest." Johnny sighed. "Hubert Humphrey Gage. She wants to call him 'Humph' for short." He drove on, listening expectantly and getting only silence. "Well, go ahead and laugh!"
"I think maybe I'm too stunned to laugh," Roy replied. He thought about it for a few seconds. "Okay, so you say she just came up with this today?"
"Yeah, while she was out shopping. It has something to do with peanut-butter cups. She just hit me with it before I came over to get you."
"Well . . . maybe it's just a passing fancy then."
"You think so?"
"Yeah. Maybe. Could be. Listen, let her sleep on it, and try to talk to her about it tomorrow. If nothing else, maybe you can talk her into a different president. If it comes right down to it, though, I think you should tell her directly that you hate the name. It's not a good idea to give a child a name that one parent doesn't like."
As Roy finished speaking, Johnny turned into the paramedic training center and circled until he found a parking place. "Man," he said, "every time I see this place it gives me chills! Remember my class, when we were in an empty treatment room at Rampart?"
"You should have been in my first class. A bunch of folding chairs in an empty hall off the morgue at Harbor General. The program's certainly come a long way. I sure would like to think that we were still a part of it." Roy sighed.
"We are, Pally," Johnny reassured him, "or we will be, even if we have to take the test again." He punched his friend in the shoulder encouragingly and they got out together and walked slowly over to the building and through the glass doors.
The test results covered several sheets of paper, posted on a long bulletin board in the hall. The names were listed from best score to worst, starting at the top of the sheet to the left and moving right. The left end of the bulletin board was surrounded by would-be paramedics, eagerly searching for their names, working their way down the list.
"Wanna start at the bottom and work our way up?" Johnny suggested.
"Might as well," Roy sighed, depressed and discouraged.
There were 160 names on five sheets. They started at the bottom of page five, Johnny reading over Roy's shoulder, silent except to occasionally point out a name that they recognized.
"Walker, Shirley," Roy tapped the paper. "She told me she thought she choked on the test."
"Delmar," Johnny noted. "I thought he'd do better."
"Doug Franklin," Roy pointed out. "I thought he'd do worse."
"Yeah. Still didn't pass, though."
Halfway up the third page they came to a line marking a passing score. Johnny punched Roy in the arm. "We're not below the line, Pally! We must have passed!"
"Yeah, unless we did so bad they didn't even put us on the list!"
"I don't think . . . I mean, they put everyone on the list somewhere, didn't they?" Johnny thought about it, then suddenly snapped his fingers and slapped Roy on the shoulder. "The pencils!"
"The pencils?"
"Yeah! Did we use the right pencils?"
"The right pencils? There's such a thing as wrong pencils?"
"Well, there must be, mustn't there? Listen! The instructions said to use number 2 lead pencils to mark the test."
"Yeah. And?"
"And, well, did we? I didn't even look at my pencil. Did you? What if they were number 1 pencils, or number 3 pencils? Maybe the machine wouldn't pick them up so it wouldn't think we answered any of the questions! Is that possible? Do you think?"
"I don't know."
"Neither do I. But I think we ought to definitely look into it!"
"Okay, but should we maybe look at the rest of the scores first, just to see if maybe we're in here somewhere?"
"What? Huh? Oh, yeah! Right! Gotcha!"
The crowd around them was beginning to thin as their fellow students moved away, some celebrating passing grades while others mourned failure. The scores were listed on the pages in descending order, with a percentage of questions answered correctly, a letter grade, and then the individual's name, rank and station. Roy and Johnny worked their way up the rest of the third page, up the second page and then, slowly, up the first. They weren't the only paramedic-turned-captains taking the test and as they approached the top of the first page they began seeing more and more familiar names.
"Look, there's Wheeler! And Kirk. Dwyer too."
"Brice came in third," Johnny noted. "Ninety-nine percent."
They looked at one another, both afraid to look up. There were only two names above Brice's. If the next name wasn't one of them, then at least one of them wasn't on the list for some reason. Johnny slowly raised his eyes and then grinned hesitantly. "Number two," he read." "One hundred percent. A+. Gage, Captain John. Station 17."
Roy thumped him on the back. "You aced it!"
Johnny let his eyes travel to the next line and his hesitant grin grew into a real one. "WE aced it, you mean! Number one, one hundred percent. A+. DeSoto, Captain Roy. Station 99!"
As they moved away down the hall, grinning and slapping one another on the back, Johnny stopped suddenly. "Hey, wait a minute, Roy! If we both got 100%, how come you're number one and I'm number 2?"
Roy shrugged. "Alphabetical order."
"Oh. Right. Stupid alphabet!"
#-#-#-#-
Back at the DeSotos' Roy picked Joanne up, dropped her on the couch and tickled her until she begged for mercy. "You knew!" he accused her. "You set us up."
She was laughing too hard to deny it.
Johnny was carrying a stack of his uniform shirts that he'd had in the back of his Rover and two bulging manila envelopes. He dropped them on the coffee table and grabbed the phone while Roy went to get his own shirts.
"Hi, honey? We did it! We aced it -- both of us! . . . Yeah, I'm really happy! . . . Yup, cloud nine. Say, listen, how do you feel? . . . Uh huh? . . . Uh huh? . . . Well, we were thinking, if you're up to it, maybe the four of us could go out to dinner somewhere and celebrate. Great! Okay, so I'll come home and get you about -- what? . . . Are you sure you're up to that? . . . Okay, then . . . . I don't know, just a second." He tucked the phone against his shoulder and addressed Roy and Joanne. "What time do you want to go to dinner?"
Roy shrugged. "Whatever time is good for you guys. Six? Seven?"
Johnny went back to his phone call. "How about some time between six and seven? Sound okay? All right, well, we'll see you when you get here. I've got my pager, so call me if you need me. Okay, love you! 'Bye!"
He hung up and reached for the threaded needle Roy was offering him. They would get their paramedic pins at a formal graduation later in the week, but their shoulder patches had been waiting for them in the training center office and they were both eager to get them sewn on. "Miranda's gonna go shopping with Bobbi Sue again. They still haven't found a prom dress and Bobbi's starting to panic. She'll drop Miranda off here when they're done."
Joanne left them to their needlework. They had only been at it for about ten minutes when suddenly Johnny's beeper went off. For half a second both men froze, then Johnny pulled the beeper off his belt to look at the number while Roy dived for the phone and set it in front of his friend.
"I don't know this number," Johnny said, dialing frantically. "It must be a pay phone somewhere."
Roy grabbed a pen and note pad, ready to write down the address. "Put it on speakerphone."
Johnny hit the button and the sound of the phone ringing on the other end filled the room with tension. It rang three times, the knot of dread in Johnny's stomach growing with every passing second, and then came a click of the speaker being picked up.
"Honey?" Johnny asked. "Sweetheart? Are you there? Can you hear me? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, pussycat, I'm just fine. Just wanted to let you know that I'm not in labor so you don't have to worry about me or anything."
Roy burst out laughing as Johnny slammed the phone down.
"How did Chet Kelly get my beeper number?"
Still chuckling, Roy pushed the notepad away and picked up his sewing. "Who knows. It's Chet!"
"Yeah."
Joanne came in with a tray containing a pot of coffee, three cups and a plate of cookies. She set it down in front of them and poured. "Didn't I hear your beeper, Johnny?"
"Yeah, false alarm."
"It was Chet," Roy offered.
"Ah. Well, at least you've got that beeper for when you need it. I sure wish we'd had something like that back when I was expecting Christopher! When I was as far along as Miranda is now, Roy was afraid to leave the room. I was making a baby afghan. I'd be sitting there crocheting and get this creepy feeling on the back of my neck. Look over, and Roy's sitting there just staring at me."
"I was," Roy shrugged, blushing a bit after all these years, "I was just watching for some sign that you were going into labor."
"I told you it was safe to turn your back on me! I promised that if I went into labor I'd moan or something."
Johnny grinned. "What happened when you did go into labor? Was he at home with you? Did he freak out?"
"When I went into labor," Joanne said, "I was pacing the emergency waiting room at Rampart. Haven't you ever heard this story, Johnny?"
#-#-#-#-
Summer of 1969
The dust explosion ripped through the old factory, shooting flames out the windows, collapsing chimneystacks, and raining bricks down off the façade. Half a dozen firefighters had been inside. Five of them stumbled out supporting one another and working together to protect the limp figure that one of them had slung over his shoulder.
* * * *
Dr. Kelly Brackett glanced over as Nurse Dixie McCall came up beside him, face grave. She indicated the young firefighter lying unconscious on the exam table in treatment three. "How's he doing?"
"Too soon to tell," he said. "I'm waiting on the X-rays now. I'd feel better if he'd regained consciousness. We got a name on him?"
"Mm. DeSoto. Roy DeSoto."
A lab tech came in with a large manila envelope. Bracket took it, pulled out the X-rays and snapped them into place on the light box. "Broken leg," he said, pointing. "I expected that. Cracked ribs." He smiled. "No sign of a skull fracture. Probably a moderate concussion. I think he's gonna be okay. Uh, Dix, does he have family here?"
She nodded, eyes wide and expressive. "His wife. His very pregnant wife. Also an old bat of a mother-in-law."
"Well, why don't I go talk to them?"
Brackett stepped out of the treatment room and glanced around the waiting area. The firefighter's family was easy to spot. His wife was pacing and wringing her hands while his mother-in-law sat scowling beside her, muttering to herself. He approached them.
"Mrs. DeSoto?"
She practically pounced on him. "Yes! That's me! I'm Mrs. DeSoto!"
"I'm Dr. Brackett. I've been treating your husband."
"How is he, Doctor? Is he going to be okay?"
He smiled down at her. "Yes, I think so. He has a broken left leg, three cracked ribs and a gash over his left eye. He hasn't regained consciousness yet and we're a bit worried about that, but the X-rays don't show any signs of a skull fracture, so I think if we just give him a bit of time he'll come around."
"Can I see him?"
"I don't see why not. But just for a minute."
"Stupid, clumsy lout," the mother-in-law said. "Downright inconsiderate, getting himself injured now!"
Brackett frowned at her slightly. "Well," he said lightly, "I'm sure it wasn't on purpose." He escorted the young wife to the treatment room three and held the door for her, but stopped the older woman from going in. "Just Mrs. DeSoto, I'm afraid."
"I'm her mother!" the mother-in-law said, swelling up like a puff adder.
"I'm very happy for you," the doctor said and closed the door in her face.
A few minutes later Dixie led the young woman out. Joanne was weeping quietly into a tissue and Dixie had her arm around her shoulder. The mother-in-law had lurched off somewhere and Dixie stayed to talk to the young wife.
"My poor baby! He just looks so pale and helpless lying there!"
"I know it looks bad," Dixie said, "but he must be a pretty tough guy to be a fireman, right? Is this the first time he's been injured at work?"
"Yeah," Joanne said. "Well, little stuff, but nothing like this before. Isn't there anything I can do?"
"Well, what I think he'd want you to do is to rest and take care of yourself and that baby. Don't you agree?" The young mother-to-be nodded, then burst into fresh tears.
"I feel so bad! I yelled at him this morning! I told him he was making me crazy and to get out of my sight and not come back until he started acting sane again!"
"Why? What was he doing?"
"Oh, he was sitting at the table -- we have a tiny little kitchen, you know, and I was at the stove cooking breakfast and all of a sudden I felt something and jumped and -- he was leaned over watching my stomach so closely that his nose poked me in the side! I asked him what he thought he was doing and he said he was watching for contractions. I mean! I almost spilled hot grease on him and everything. I was so annoyed! I told him I'd know when I started having contractions and in the meantime to get away and leave me alone!"
Dixie smiled. "Sounds like he's pretty excited about this baby. Your first?"
Joanne nodded.
"Incidentally, I notice you keep wincing and rubbing your stomach. Is something bothering you?"
"Oh, just nerves, I think. I'm having stomach cramps."
"Stomach cramps?"
"Yeah." She leaned close to the older woman to confide, "if I didn't know better I'd think it was my period!"
Dixie nodded and waved a hand behind Joanne's back, signaling for a wheelchair. "Why don't you just sit here for a minute and rest, hmm? Tell me the next time you have a cramp, okay?"
Joanne shrugged and let the nurse help her lower herself into the wheelchair. "Okay. Well . . . now. And . . . now." Her eyes widened as she suddenly understood. "You mean?"
"Less than two minutes apart," Dixie said, looking at her watch. A white-haired doctor was passing by and Dixie snagged his sleeve to stop him. "Joe?"
"Yeah? Hi! What have we got here?"
"Joe Early, this is Joanne DeSoto. Her husband is that young fireman in three. Joanne appears to be in labor."
"I see." He took her pulse and lay a hand on her stomach. "How far along are you, dear?"
"Full term. I'm due any minute."
"Well, I'd say that's about when you're going to give birth." He turned to Dixie. "Let's get her in five."
"But, but I can't have the baby now," Joanne protested. "Roy's hurt! He hasn't even woken up yet!"
"Maybe you'll have a nice surprise for him when he does."
* * * * *
Forty-five minutes later Joe Early went into treatment three. The young firefighter was awake now and they'd raised the head of the table so he could sit up. His ribs were taped and there was a bandage on his forehead, an IV in his left arm and a cast on his left leg.
Joe stepped over to talk quietly to Brackett. "How's he doing?
"Better. The explosion affected his hearing, but I think it's only temporary. His neurological responses are good and he's oriented three times three. We're going to move him up to a room in a little bit."
"Great! So, do you think he's up for a visitor?"
Brackett made a face. "His wife, yes. His mother-in-law, no."
"How about his son?"
Brackett looked up in surprise and Joe grinned.
"No kidding?" Brackett said. "Just now?"
"About ten minutes ago."
Joe went up to the bed and addressed the young man. "Mr. DeSoto?" he asked. "Roy?" He got no response.
"ROY!" Brackett bellowed and the young man glanced up and noticed them.
"CONGRATULATIONS!" Joe shouted. "IT'S A BOY!"
Roy glanced from one to the other of them, confused. "ROY," he bellowed back, nodding and pointing at himself.
Joe tried again. "YOUR WIFE HAD HER BABY!"
"MAYBE . . . ?" Roy shouted, a bewildered look on his face.
"YOU HAVE A SON!"
"I HAVE ONE WHAT?"
Joe threw up his hands in disgust and went to open the door and admit a young nurse carrying a baby. The mother-in-law followed them in with a camera at the ready. "His wife wants a picture of him," she snarled at Brackett. "I don't know why!"
Roy DeSoto had eyes only for the tiny bundle the nurse was carrying. She brought it over and put it in the crook of his right arm. Stunned speechless, he could only point from the baby to himself. The two doctors nodded, yes it was his baby.
"My wife?" he asked, and this time it wasn't a bellow as anxiety robbed him of breath. Brackett and Early smiled to reassure him. "She's fine," Joe mouthed slowly, not bothering to shout either.
Roy DeSoto's face broke into a huge, delighted grin. He peeked inside the blanket at the baby. "It's a boy," he said with tears in his eyes. "I got a son! It's a little boy! I'm a daddy! I've got a little son!"
#-#-#-#-
Joanne got up from the couch, went into the next room and returned with a big, dusty photo album. Some of the pictures were coming loose and she opened it carefully. "I keep promising myself that I'm going to glue these all back in one day." She turned the pages until she found the one she wanted, then passed it to Johnny.
He took it and studied the picture, grinning. A very young Roy was sitting up on a treatment table, cradling a tiny baby and smiling so hugely that it looked as if his face would crack.
Just then Christopher DeSoto himself stuck his head into the room. "Hey, Dad? Can I borrow your car? I need to run down and pick up the letters and medals for the swim team dinner." At this point Chris looked more like Roy in the picture than Roy himself did.
Roy fished out his car keys and tossed them over. Chris caught them with a grin. "I'll be careful," he promised.
"I know you will," Roy said. Chris left and Roy sighed. "Hard to believe he was ever that small!"
"Hard to believe you were ever that young," Johnny countered.
"Hard to believe I've gotten so old," Roy said sadly.
"Man, you have!" Johnny agreed at once. "What's with that? Did you remember your Geritol and prune juice this morning? Where's your walker?"
Roy laughed, gloom dispelled, and the two men returned to their sewing.
#-#-#-#-
Deep in the night Johnny awoke. The sheets were wet and warm and Miranda was poking him in the arm. "Johnny? Wake up now. Time to wake up, honey."
"Sweetheart? You okay?"
"I'm okay. But either I wet the bed or my water broke."
"Your water broke," he echoed, still out of it. Then he took a sudden, sharp breath and jumped up to stand on the bed. "YOUR WATER BROKE!" he shouted.
Miranda curled into a ball, her arms over her head. "Don't step on me! Don't step on me!"
Johnny jumped down. "I'm not gonna step on you. Okay, don't worry! Everything's gonna be just fine. Just don't worry." He had tried folding his jeans down over his sneakers to make it quick to dress but it hadn't worked, so for the last week he'd slept with his boots and turnout pants beside the bed. He jumped into them now, pulled up the suspenders, and ran around the bed, grabbing a pair of scissors off the dresser in passing.
"What are you doing?" Miranda demanded. "What are you doing with the scissors? Get away from me with the scissors!"
"I'm just gonna cut your nightgown off."
"No you're not either gonna cut my nightgown off!"
"But -- but -- but --"
"NO!"
"Okay, fine." He put down the scissors. "Well, I'll just . . . I'll get you a towel. And a clean nightgown and a robe. And your slippers. Okay?"
"That will be fine."
Johnny ran over and rummaged through the dresser, returned with his arms full of clothes and dropped them onto the chair by the bed. Then he dashed into the bathroom and came back with a towel. He helped her get out of her wet gown, dry off and change. Then he lowered her into the chair, stopped in front of her and held out his hands as if to calm her. "The important thing is not to panic."
"I'm not the one who's panicking," she said.
"Good. Good! That's good. And you shouldn't be. Because, you know, if worse comes to worse, I can always deliver the baby myself." He stood up straight in the dark bedroom, pushed out his chest and grinned down at her hugely. "I'm a paramedic, you know?"
"Yeah," she said. "I heard that somewhere. Could you turn on the light, please?"
"Oh, right." He turned on the light and she picked up the phone.
Johnny was running around the room looking for her bag, completely forgetting that he had already put it in the trunk of the car. Miranda called her doctor and then phoned the DeSoto house. Joanne answered.
"Hi, Jo! It's Miranda. It's time."
"Hi sweetie! We thought it might be. Roy's on his way to your house."
"Already?"
"He's been sleeping with his boots and turnouts by the bed. He was up and out the door before the second ring. He'll follow you to the hospital and be on hand if you need him. The kids and I will be along in just a little bit. Are you scared?"
"A little bit. Johnny's trying to figure out where he can get an OB kit. He already tried to cut my best nightgown off me!"
Joanne laughed. "Roy has an OB kit with him, but don't worry. He won't get it out unless you really need it. Good luck, sweetheart! We'll see you in a little bit!"
Johnny insisted on carrying his wife out to the car. She protested to no avail. "Johnny? Honey? Don't take this the wrong way, but, with your track record, don't you think it'd be safer for both of us if I just walk?"
Unheeding, he scooped her up in his arms. She put one arm around his neck and used the other hand to cover her eyes, but they made it to the Rover without mishap. As he was settling her in the passenger seat Roy drove up with a cop behind him. Roy and the cop both got out and came over. The cop leaned down to look in the window at Miranda.
"How much of a hurry are we in?"
"We've got time to get to the hospital," she assured him.
"Okay, great. I'll go first, you follow me and DeSoto can come along behind, okay?"
#-#-#-#-
By the time Baby Gage put in an appearance the sun was creeping over the horizon and the hospital waiting room was filled with off-duty fire department personnel. Johnny and Roy had both been there for the delivery, but when Miranda was settled back into her room, the baby in her arms, Roy had slipped away to give the little family time alone together.
Johnny, beaming, leaned over his wife, studying his new son. Dixie came in carrying an envelope and handed it to Miranda.
"His birth certificate," she said. "I went ahead and filled it in with the name you told me." She smiled at them both and left.
Johnny's eyes dimmed for a minute, then he smiled. It doesn't matter, he told himself. I love the child, I can live with the name. It doesn't matter. He leaned down and spoke softly, trying it out. "Hi, there Hubie!" Okay, maybe in time he could get used to that. "Hey, Humph." That one was going to be harder.
Miranda was grinning at him. "Johnny," she said, "do you know what I love about you?"
"What's that?"
"We've been married for over a year now and you're still just as gullible as the day I met you!"
He shot her a puzzled look. "Huh?"
She smiled. The baby lay in the crook of her left arm. She reached her right hand up to caress Johnny's face. "His name is Roy Roderick Gage," she said.
He sat up suddenly, his breath caught in his throat. "What?" he breathed.
"Roy Roderick. That was what you wanted, wasn't it? To name him after Roy? Only you didn't seem to have a middle name, so I gave him yours. Is that okay?"
"Okay?" He beamed down at her. "It's wonderful! It's perfect!" He kissed her gently on the temple. "How is it you always seem to know what I'm thinking?"
"You talk to yourself. All I have to do is eavesdrop."
Johnny went to the door and called out into the hall. "Roy? Jo? You wanna come in here for a minute?"
The DeSotos came in and Johnny took the baby and offered it to his best friend. "Hey, you wanna hold my son?"
"Yeah! Can I?" Delighted, Roy took the baby.
"Watch his head," Johnny cautioned. "Get your hand under his back and support his neck and --" Johnny caught the amused look Roy was giving him and let his voice trail off because, after all, it had been Roy who'd first taught him how to hold a baby.
Roy cuddled the tiny child. "Look at you," he said, "you look like your daddy! He's so tiny! But look at all that hair!"
"Look at his wristband," Johnny said, watching Roy's face for a reaction. Roy glanced at the wristband, smiled slightly, nodded and returned his attention to the baby's face.
"That's it?" Johnny demanded.
"Huh?"
"What does the wristband say, Roy?"
Roy blinked, puzzled. "Baby Gage."
Miranda slapped Johnny's arm. "They don't put the baby's name on the wristband, silly."
"Oh."
"Here," she took the birth certificate out of its envelope, "show him this."
Grinning, Johnny held up the birth certificate and this time he got his reaction.
Roy's face went blank with shock and then suddenly he was fighting tears. "You . . . you named him after me?" His voice was tight. "I don't know what to say."
"Yeah, well," Johnny's own throat was tight with emotion. "You know, I wanted to name him after someone he can look up to and admire, so I named him after someone that I look up to and admire.
Miranda and Joanne were both in tears now too. "Oh, for Heaven's sake!" Jo exclaimed. "Hug each other already!"
With Roy still holding the baby, the two men embraced. The room was so filled with happiness that it seemed some of it must surely spill over into the rest of the hospital.
Then the door opened and Chet Kelly stuck his head in. "What in the hell is going on in here?" he demanded. He leaned back and shouted down the hall. "I don't know! Roy and Johnny are hugging each other and everyone is crying but the baby. You ask me, I think they've all gone nutso!"
Roy and Johnny stepped apart and Roy handed Johnny his son back. "Chet!" Johnny hollered, "will you get out of here?"
"Come on, Gage," Chet demanded. "Everybody's waiting to see the kid. Marco and I have a bet on about whether it's human or not." On that note he ducked out the door.
Roy dried his eyes on his sleeve. "Thanks," he said simply.
"Thank you," Johnny countered, "for, well, everything. Now you realize," he teased, "this means the two of you have to have another kid now so you can name it after me?"
Roy grinned and glanced at his wife. "We'll get right on that just as soon as we get home," he promised.
Johnny glanced at Miranda. "You okay with it if I take," he paused to grin down at his son, "Little Roy here out and introduce him to the crowd?"
"I suppose," she agreed.
Johnny took the baby out into the hall, Roy accompanying him, and went down to the crowded waiting room. All of the old gang from 51 was there, as well as Johnny's crew from 17s and Roy's crew from 99s.
"And here they come at last!" said Cap (now Chief) Stanley.
"Now remember, Marco," Chet said, "webbed toes count! If it's got webbed toes I win!"
"I don't believe it," Captain Mike Stoker said. "Johnny Gage is really a father!"
Johnny went out into the middle of the room and held up a hand for silence. "First of all, I'd just like to thank all of you for being here. It really means a lot to me and my family. And secondly, speaking of my family, allow me to introduce you to my son, Roy Roderick Gage."
As they all gathered close to look at the baby, Chet's voice again rode over the quiet murmuring. "Ah, man! You named him after Roy? That's lame!"
"How so?" Roy demanded.
"Oh, well, no offense, Roy. It's just, if Gage wanted something really classy, he should have named the baby after me."
"You know," Johnny said, "I thought about that. But my wife already had a girl's name picked out."
"Hey!" Chet protested, finger pointing, moustache bristling. "Listen, Gage! Beverly is a guy's name. You hear me? A guy's name! Okay?"
"Whatever you say, Chester B.," Johnny grinned. "Whatever you say!"
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