Free From Ashes to Honor by Loree Lough

unsettling dreams was a short clip on the evening news, describing the respiratory illnesses that were ravaging so many of the 9/11 first responders, or maybe an item about a new monument being erected in memory of the innocents slaughtered at Ground Zero, the Pentagon, or the grassy field at Shanksville. This time, Austin blamed the hours he'd spent with Mercy—the one person who had witnessed his weakness, seen him at his lowest after the tragedy—for uprooting the painful thoughts.
    More than likely, though, it had been Cora's number in the caller i.d. block of his phone, and the blinking light that told him she'd left another long and rambling message. Dismissing Avery's message that day taught him a lesson—and left him paranoid about ignoring calls, especially from people he cared about.
    And he cared a whole lot about Cora and her boys.
    Kneeling in the hot ashes after the cave-in, he'd bloodied all ten fingertips trying to pry Eddy free of his steel and concrete prison. Somehow, he found the strength to beg Austin to check on his wife and sons from time to time. "Don't be an idiot," he'd teased. "Just hang on, and you can look after them yourself, just like you always have."
    But they'd both passed the department's mandatory CPR classes, and knew full well that Eddy wouldn't last until help arrived. Austin cracked a molar that day, gritting his teeth to keep from bawling like a baby as he made that promise."Couldn't have asked for a better partner," Eddy whispered, and then his eyes went blank and cold. Austin had been seeing that in his dreams ever since, and didn't doubt for a minute that he'd keep right on seeing it until he joined Eddy in heaven.
    Hard experience had taught him that tossing and turning wouldn't get him anywhere. So he had put his sleepless hours to good use, sanding the decks, polishing brass, painting and staining the cupboards and cabinets. If not for nights like this, it would have taken twice as long to turn the neglected old tug into a home he could treasure.
    Austin padded into the galley to start a pot of coffee, and while waiting for it to brew, showered and dressed. After making up his bunk, he filled his favorite mug and carried it to the pilot house.
    Yawning, he stood at the rail, watching as shimmering ripples danced across the surface of the night-black water. The familiar quark-quark of a night heron slid from the shadows, making him wonder what had disturbed its nest.
    "Yo, Finley."
    Austin instantly recognized the raspy whisper. "Yo, yourself, Bud." He glanced at his wristwatch: Three fifty-two a.m."What're you doing up at this hour?"
    "I could ask the same question," the older man said, and quickly added, "I'm trying to escape Flora's snoring." He stood at attention. "Say, is that fresh coffee I smell?"
    The wind was blowing due north, not south toward the Callahans' schooner, so it wasn't likely the scent had snagged a breeze and drifted across the water. Smiling, Austin said, "Sure is."
    "Hot dog! I'll be right over."
    "Meet me up here. I'll have a mug poured and waiting for you when you get here."
    For the past month or so, he'd seen the old gent prowling around on the deck of his schooner at all sorts of odd hours.While emptying the coffee maker's carafe into a Thermos, he recalled the frantic night when Bud suffered a near-fatal heart attack. Fortunately, Austin had been on hand to administer emergency CPR and monitor the situation until the ambulance crew arrived. And he'd been available to take Flora to Johns Hopkins, because the way she'd blubbered all the way there, only the good Lord knew what might have happened if she'd driven the distance alone.
    The quadruple bypass saved Bud and greatly improved his quality of life, but that had been nearly three years ago. What if his restlessness had nothing to do with Flora's snoring? What if, instead, it was a sign that his ticker had developed a new problem?
    Austin carried the Thermos and an extra mug to the pilot house,