The Misadventures of the Laundry Hag 00 - Swept Under the Rug

have a death wish.”
    “Ma’am I need you to calm down and give me an address.”
    I rattled it off, my gaze locked on the front door, willing Neil to reappear. Damn his hero complex!
    “The fire department is en route. Ma’am, please remain on the line and brief me of any changes. Can you see your husband?”
    There was a loud boom as flames shot out of a side window and I yelped. Though my sense of direction sucked, I was sure the blast had originated in the kitchen. The operator asked for an update and I stuttered out some sort of reply.
    “Has your husband returned?” She asked again.
    “No,” I whimpered. “Please, tell them to hurry.” God, it wouldn’t end like this, would it? Neil furious and suicidally altruistic while I bore impotent witness. Swamped with anxiety, I squeezed the phone tighter.
    It seemed an eternity passed before the sounds of sirens pierced the still night. The western side of the house was mottled in flames and Neil still hadn’t emerged. I opened the truck door and flung myself to the ground, going down on one knee in my haste to intercept the firemen. They needed to know Neil was still inside and make finding him a priority. I must have announced my intent to the operator because she nattered on about the need for me to stay out of the way. Snapping the phone closed, I stuffed it in my coat pocket.
    “He’s in there; my husband went inside the house!” I shouted as firemen swarmed off the huge engine like angry bees from a disturbed hive.
    One tall man nodded in acknowledgment and ushered me to the side of the driveway. “Is anyone else in the building?”
    “I don’t know. Please, find him.”
    “We’ll do our best, Ma’am. Stay here.” Again I was left without a purpose and I hugged myself, for once able to ignore the cold.
    My vantage of the front door wasn’t nearly as good as from the truck, but for once I felt no desire to obstruct. A prayer left my lips as I observed the activity, the firemen staking out positions around the foundation, some disappearing into the house.
    The noise was unbelievable. I’d never thought about what fire sounded like and tears streamed down my face as I thought of Neil and possibly Mr. Valentino deafened and disoriented within the inferno. The lights from the truck parked on the grass reflected off the undamaged portions of siding, casting moving shadows everywhere.
    “Come back to me Neil,” I whispered. At that moment, I resolved that no matter what was going on, whatever Neil’s secret might be I’d deal with it as long as he came out alive.
    Then, in the flickering light, a figure emerged, and I squinted, endeavoring to adjust my eyesight. The figure appeared oddly misshapen, no wait! He was carrying something. Despite the warning to stay back, I dashed forward, but stopped in my tracks. It wasn’t a fireman carrying Neil as I’d suspected but Neil hauling Valentino over his shoulder. He stumbled a bit and two firemen emerged behind him, taking the unconscious man off his shoulders.
    “You stupid fucking hero!” I bellowed and rushed forward.

    * * * *
    “How come you get to take ridiculous chances with your life and I’m read the riot act for putting a toe out of line?” I huffed at Neil. My husband reeked of smoke and sweat and a streak of soot decorated his jaw, but he was otherwise undamaged. We sat in the cab of his truck, which we’d moved onto the street, along with my Mini, and watched the firemen work. Mr. Valentino had been carted off in an ambulance, still unconscious and probably suffering from smoke inhalation. Neil had taken a few hits from an oxygen mask, but refused any other medical aide. Stupid, stubborn man.
    In spite of the smell, I was curled up into his chest, holding on to reassure myself he wasn’t hurt. His hand stroked my hair absently as he stared at the activity before us. The fire, (I’d been right, it had started in the kitchen,) was mostly out and a few firemen coiled up the long hoses.
    “Trained SEAL here, remember? And I don’t take chances without a reason.” His voice was rougher than usual and I brushed away a fresh onslaught of misery.
    “Do you want to go home?” I asked, turning my head so I could read his expression. “You probably want to take a shower.”
    He met my gaze and his lips twitched. “Smell that bad, do I?”
    I burrowed deeper. “Not at all.” He smelled alive, so it wasn’t a lie.
    “If it’s all right with you, I wanted to wait until the