All in a Day’s Work

Lucan Ward stepped out of the burning apartment building, carrying a little girl wrapped in a blanket who was clutching her blue-haired doll with button eyes. The crowd on the outside cheered, as many of them didn’t think he’d make it out alive. When the little girl appeared at the third-story window and cried for help minutes earlier, and the ceiling seemed to crash down on top of her, all of Ward’s fellow firemen thought she was a hopeless case, and the raging flames of the building were too much to attempt a rescue. But Ward didn’t care about the risk; he just saw a little girl who needed his help, and as he walked out with that little girl in his arms, a woman with tears in her eyes ran up to Ward in the street and said, “Oh my God. Thank you.” They were the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen, and the tears only made them shine all the more.

“All in a day’s work, ma’am,” replied Ward. “This little lady’s been asking for her mama. I’m glad I could oblige,” continued Ward, and he handed the bundled little girl with her doll over to the woman.

“Mommy?” whimpered the little girl, as the woman walked off and disappeared into the crowd of spectators and displaced residents. When Ward was in the girl’s apartment, searching for her through the flames, he found the burning body of a dead man before he found the girl. Ward suspected this was the woman’s husband, but didn’t have the heart to tell her about his grim fate before she scurried off with her little one. Ward figured the woman would find out soon enough. Why ruin the moment she has now with her daughter? Ward had work to do anyway, so he turned around and went off to help his fellow firemen fight the flames of the burning apartment building.

The next day was Ward’s day off, and his sleep was interrupted by his cell phone ringing on his nightstand; it was his captain calling.

“Howdy, cap,” grunted Ward, still fighting his way out of the last remnants of sleep.

“Mornin’, Ward,” replied his captain. “Sorry to bother you like this, brother. I’m sure you’ve got some cute boy in your bed you’re wantin’ to get back to.”

Ward gave a little chuckle and said, “Nope, but your wife is in the bathroom freshening up for round two.”

“You wouldn’t know what to do with her in round one,” said his captain. “Anyway, the reason I’m disturbin’ you’re well-deserved day off is because the goddamn PDs are up my ass about that girl you saved last night.”

Ward sat up in bed and asked, “What about her?”

“Well, they're sayin’ they got this lady whose husband burnt up in the apartment, but they haven’t found the body of her little girl,” said his captain. “I told ‘em that you handed the girl you rescued to the mother, so the girl they’re looking for is burnt up in that building somewhere, or ran out and is lost in the street, but it’s got nothin’ to do with us. The descriptions match, but they do for a million little girls in the city, you know how it is. The mother said that the girl never goes anywhere without some doll–I forget the name of it, but apparently the girl doesn’t go anywhere without it. It’s got blue hair and button eyes. I’m sure your girl didn’t have one, but I just need you to confirm so I can tell them they’re barkin’ up the wrong tree.” Ward didn’t say anything; he just stared off into space. “Ward?” he could hear his captain’s distant voice say, “Ward, you there, brother?”

A week later, Ward was sitting in a dive bar, with his third double scotch lying in front of him and stubble covering his face. There was a television in the bar from the 90s, and a baseball game on it had just ended, so the bartender turned the channel to the news. The newswoman wrapped up a story about a conflict in the Middle East, and she said, “In local news, the search for Willa Miles continues.” The picture of the little girl Ward had carried out of the building appeared on screen, and he couldn’t stand to look at it. “She has been missing since last Tuesday, and the police would appreciate any information anyone may have on her whereabouts. Mayor Robert Hensley of Edmond will be holding a candlelight vigil tonight for Willa Miles in Fairview Park, which is open to the public.”

“What a shame,” said the bartender, shaking his head at the television. He looked at Ward and said, “I hear that if they don’t find one of these kids in the first 48 hours, it’s hopeless. You know what I mean?”

Ward grunted in agreement, and the bartender’s attention went back to the television as the newswoman said, “Authorities say Willa Miles’ disappearance occurred after firefighter Lucan Ward carried her from her apartment building and handed her to a woman who has since been identified as the suspected kidnapper.” Ward couldn’t help but look at the television at the mention of his name and saw a picture of himself on screen as the newswoman continued, “Ward has been suspended from the fire department, and an investigation is underway to determine his role in the kidnapping.”

The bartender looked at Ward suspiciously and said, “That fella looks an awful lot like you, ya know.” Ward didn’t respond. He sucked down his scotch, tossed more cash than necessary onto the bar, and headed for the door, as the bartender said, “Wait a minute. That is you, you kidnapping son of a bitch. Don’t let me catch you in here again.”

Ward wandered the streets for a while and ended up at the apartment building where he saved the girl from the fire. He stared at its charred remains from across the street, wishing he could go back in time.

“Hey, buddy,” Ward heard a man say. He turned and saw a man who looked to be in his 60s, wearing a mechanic’s uniform with the nametag “Jeff” on it. He was carrying a large box containing a dollhouse. “Would you mind getting the door?” asked Jeff. Ward was confused at first, but he quickly realized that the building he was standing in front of was an old apartment building. He rushed to open the door for Jeff, and Jeff replied, “Thanks a lot, buddy. Appreciate you.”

Ward continued to hold the door open for a moment as Jeff made his way down the hall and onto the elevator. As the elevator door closed, an idea struck Ward. With no one else around, Ward walked inside the apartment building, went to the door of apartment 100, and knocked.

A young woman carrying a baby opened the door and said with an attitude, “Can I help you?” Ward knew immediately that this was not the woman he had handed Willa Miles over to.

“My apologies, ma’am,” said Ward. “I got the wrong apartment.”

The young woman said, “Ok,” with just as much attitude as before, and shut the door. Ward stepped over to apartment 101 and knocked. The young woman from apartment 100 opened her door again, poked her head out, and said with aggravation, “What?”

“I’m just looking for the right apartment,” said Ward. “I didn’t mean to disturb you again.”

Still carrying her baby like a sack of potatoes, the young woman stepped into the hall and said, “If you’re lookin’ for Mr. Johnson, he ain’t home. Some people work. Don’t you have a job?” Ward didn’t know what to say to that, but he didn’t have to figure it out because the young woman didn’t wait for a response. She stomped back into her apartment and slammed the door behind her.

Ward knocked on each door, going down the sequence from 102 to 103, then 104, and so on. Some people answered the door confused, some people answered it angrily, some had nothing better to do and wanted to talk to Ward all day, and some didn’t answer the door at all. Ward knew he would remember the woman who took Willa Miles if only he saw her face again, but he wasn’t sure what he was doing in that apartment building. He had no guarantee she lived there, or if she was even home. But if she was, why would she answer the door? Despite all the doubt and uncertainty bouncing around in Ward’s head, and the awkwardness with each person he encountered, Ward kept knocking on one door after the next.

Ward reached apartment 302 and knocked. After a moment, he heard a man’s voice say, “Who's there?”

“Afternoon, sir,” replied Ward. “May I have a word with you?”

“A word about what?” asked the man on the other side of the door.

“Just a word, sir,” said Ward. “I could really use your help.”

“I don’t think that I can help you,” said the man. “You’re not a cop, are you?”

Ward thought about something the young woman in apartment 100 told him, and said flippantly, “No, sir, I promise you I’m not a cop. As a matter of fact, I don’t even have a job.” The two men were silent for a moment, and Ward, feeling defeated, said, “I could just really use your help.”

There was another moment of silence, then the man in apartment 302 opened the door, revealing it to be Jeff, the man with the dollhouse. “Times are tough for all of us, buddy,” said Jeff. “I don’t have any money if that’s what you’re looking for. We barely have enough to go around here as it is.”

Ward stared into Jeff’s eyes. They were green eyes like he had never seen before. Ward wasn’t one to comment on the attractiveness of other men, but he had to admit this man’s eyes were beautiful. It was then that Ward realized he was wrong; he had seen eyes like that before. Only once before.

“What the hell are you doing?” said Jeff, as Ward tried to push past him. Ward managed to force his way through and quickly scanned the small apartment. There was no one in the living room, but Ward saw the open box for the dollhouse. He kept looking around and noticed that the bathroom door was open, the door to one of the bedrooms was open, but one door in the apartment was closed. “You need to leave,” said Jeff, coming up behind Ward. The two men grappled with each other, and Ward managed to throw Jeff to the floor and made his way to the closed door. He tried turning the knob, but it was locked. Ward bashed his shoulder against the door, and it burst open on his second try. On the bed sat a woman with the most beautiful green eyes Ward had ever seen, and her tears only made them shine all the more. In the woman’s arms was wrapped Willa Miles, clutching her blue-haired doll with button eyes.

“Please, you don’t understand,” screamed the woman, as Ward tore Willa Miles from her arms. 

Ward carried Willa out of the room, while Jeff pleaded, “My daughter meant well. She didn’t hurt the little girl. She was just lonely.”

Ward carried Willa out of the apartment, and as he walked down the hall, the woman with beautiful green eyes, filled with tears, emerged from apartment 302 and said, “I know you. You're the hero. You gave her to me. I didn’t ask for her; you gave her. You can’t just take her away. You can’t be that cruel. You can’t…”

The candlelight vigil in Fairview Park had just begun, and Mayor Robert Hensley, standing atop the bandstand with a microphone, said to the crowd, “Thank you all for coming. It warms my heart to see our community come together like this in times of tragedy. But enough of my rambling. I’d like to bring up here, Laura Miles, the mother of our dear Willa, so she can say some words to all you kind folks.”

The crowd clapped as Laura Miles ascended the bandstand. Mayor Hensley gave her a hug and held out a hand, leading her to the microphone stand. “Hello, I’m Laura Miles,” said Laura into the microphone. “Thank you all for coming out this evening. I’d just like to say… Willa?” The crowd collectively gasped as Ward made his way through the crowd with Willa in his arms. Laura ran off the bandstand and met him in the crowd. She snatched her daughter from Ward’s arms, saying, “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” more to the universe than Ward directly.

Ward stared at the radiant Laura Miles, a faint smile touching his face, and said, “All in a day’s work, ma’am.”