Summer In Maine: Part 4.Pete’s Road Trip. by Member389. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. It had been over a year now. I was working support in Warren down along the Camden road. There was a large blueberry farm there that was burning their fields. It’s common practice to keep the other plants from taking over, blueberries grew like weeds out here, the fall burning helped increase the crop, and here in down east Maine blueberries are big business. I sat on the back of Engine #3 looking out over the fields, we were just here to make sure that the fires didn’t get away from the farmers. Dark smoke rolled along on the breeze as the low flames crept eastward. These were the worst times. Normally I was too busy to think about it, too busy to dredge up the past and go over it like a raccoon pawing through a trash bin. Unfortunately, I tended to hold on to things like that. I could see Chrissy in my mind as if I’d seen her yesterday. The blue eyes, and that crooked little smile, her straw-colored hair blowing in the breezes off the water. She hadn’t tanned so much as she just glowed, as if reflecting the sun’s color and warmth on to you. Fifteen months. That’s how long it had been since she left. I still had the note carefully folded in my wallet. A few times frustration nearly got the better of me and I almost threw it away, but sentiment always seemed to win out. After she left I stewed for weeks, mom and friends kept trying to shake me out of my funk and none of them succeeded. I talked to Davy about a job, but he’d already given my spot to someone else since I hadn’t gone down to see him early enough. He told me that the city was looking for recruits for the fire department, and after my levelheaded rescue of a boater last year I should apply for it. The boater in question thought it was a smart idea to smoke his cigar while refueling, and the fumes caught. I got to him with a fire extinguisher before the place went up. He got burned up his arm and some around his neck but he survived. I didn’t have any other prospects and it seemed like a good idea. The chief remembered the story about my fast thinking the summer before and looked over my paperwork. Before I knew it I was getting a ride up to Fairfield to the fire training academy. After six months I’d gotten my certification in firefighting and my first aid training. I requested further EMT training, but the chief said it would have to wait until the new budget year before he could send me back. The summer had been busy with the tourists, the occasional fire, plenty of rescues, but now that the season was over it had quieted down. It was the quiet times, like now, that I’d fall into this pensive mood. Some of the older guys would try to rouse me, ruffling my hair to snap me out of it. I remembered Herb, the engineer for #3, sat next to me beside the fire house a few days ago. He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. “She must have been something.” I just nodded. “She was everything.” He nodded. “You know, when the smoke’s thick, sometimes you have to check the line between you and your partner. Make sure he’s still there. If he pulls, and you don’t tug back he doesn’t know if he’s snagged, or lost you.” I smirked. “Yeah.” He stood up and wandered back into the station. He was right, she tugged, but I didn’t tug back. I let her leave. I won’t lie and say I didn’t cry out her name while I kicked the gravel in the driveway. I couldn’t understand how she could leave like that without even a goodbye. Herb was right, and it’s time to respond to the tug. We finished out the day walking the line to make sure there weren’t any hot spots that would flare up before heading back to the station. Tonight was the end of my shift, I’d be headed home when we got back to the station, and I was off for the next couple days. I told the guys I’d see them on Friday and grabbed my duffel and headed to my truck. I walked into the house and it smelled wonderful. Mom said hi to me and told me d