For the most part, Cole seethed in silence, but Annabel knew how much the situation was bothering him. For a fireman to be suspected of being an arsonist was almost unthinkable, and unbearable. Cole knew that Inspector Fernack and the San Francisco Police Department were investigating him and Brady Enterprises, trying to find some link to the fires, and although Lieutenant Driscoll and Chief Sullivan still backed him a hundred percent on the surface, Cole knew that even they had to be growing suspicious of him, thanks to the drumbeat of innuendo that Ingersoll was keeping up.
Annabel was glad that Cole still had Patsy O'Flaherty as a staunch friend and supporter. The little Irishman had spent a few days in the hospital with a concussion before being released. After another few days of recuperating at home, Patsy had returned to Engine Company Twenty-one as good as new. He had been at Cole's side when the company fought several of the fires on the waterfront. Anytime Garrett Ingersoll's name was mentioned, Patsy went into a sputtering, cursing fit, turning the air around him blue with a litany of partially incomprehensible Irish profanity. Annabel had to laugh when Cole told her about Patsy's colorful ravings, even though the subject which had prompted them was quite serious, of course.
A month had passed since Annabel had moved in with Cole, a month that had flown by in a blur of happiness, when he came home one day and, after kissing her, said, "I'd like for you to come to the firehouse tomorrow."
"Why?" Annabel asked with a slight frown. She had avoided going there, for fear that being surrounded by the sights and sounds of a firehouse would be too much for her. They would be different from the way things were in her own time, of course, but she worried that there would be enough similarities to remind her of everything she had lost.
"The company is having a photograph made," Cole said. "I'd like for you to be there to see it."
Annabel shook her head. "I still don't understand."
He reached in his pocket and took out a small box. As he opened it and extended it toward her, he said, "I thought it would be the first outing we'd have together as an officially engaged couple."
A diamond ring, beautiful in its simplicity, rested on the velvet interior of the little box.
Annabel caught her breath. The ring reflected the light from the gas lamps with a brilliant sparkle. A mixture of surprise, joy, and more than a little fear suddenly filled Annabel. "You're asking me to marry you?" she said in a hollow voice . . .
"Miss Lowell, will you do me the great honor of consenting to be my wife?" Cole asked, the words husky with emotion.
"I . . .Yes, of course!" Annabel's answer tumbled out of her mouth. "Oh, yes!"
Then she was in his arms. The ring box slipped out of his hands and fell to the rug between them, but neither of them paid any attention to it. They were too busy kissing each other with the greatest passion either of them had ever known . . .
****
The morning of April 17,1906, dawned clear and beautiful. Cole was due at the firehouse at noon for the group photograph, so he and Annabel had plenty of time to enjoy a leisurely, early morning bout of lovemaking. They lingered for a long time in bed, each of them using lips, tongue, and fingers to bring the other to the brink several times before backing off and postponing the ultimate pleasure. Finally, when neither of them could stand the ecstatic torture any longer, they joined together, each crying out at the rapturous merging of body and soul.
After breakfast, Cole put on his dress uniform while Annabel donned a dark gray walking dress and a black hat. Her hair had grown back enough that she could sweep it up now if she was careful and pinned it into place.
When Cole slipped into his uniform jacket, Annabel pointed to several ribbons and medals that were pinned to it "What are those?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Commendations for various things."
Annabel came closer and read the engravings on some of the medals. "Courage and valor . . . devotion to duty and comrades . . . highest honors . . ." She looked up at him. "You're a hero!"
He looked uncomfortable as he said, "I just try to do my job."
"The City of San Francisco thinks you're a hero," Annabel insisted. She came up on her toes, just a little, and kissed him. "And so do I."
"That means more to me than any of these," he said, gesturing toward the decorations.
It was time to go, so they walked down the steep set of stairs and along the street to the cable car stop. As they rode toward the headquarters of Engine Company Twenty-one, Annabel saw the admiring glances directed at Cole from men and women alike on the cable car. Children gazed up at him in open worship. It was ridiculous, Annabel thought, that a man such as Cole should be suspected of a crime. Her eyes narrowed. Garrett Ingersoll had better hope that he never ran into her in a dark alley. She'd had plenty of martial arts and self-defense training over the years. She would put all that practice to good use.