Heat

by Elizabeth Caroline

  CHAPTER 3

  "No.” I said rising from my seat. “Claudia.”

  The old lady squinted again, “Oh, I'm sorry dear. You look so familiar. Doesn't she Charles?”

  Charles laughed awkwardly, his brow furrowed, his eyes locked in surveillance, slowly studying each of my features. Finally he let out a short, painful gasp. “I hadn't even noticed.”

  “Charles?” Rachael said, requesting the answer for a question unknown to me as she moved in closer, her eyes locked in a similar manner.

  “How old are you?” Charles asked. As the old lady, who I guessed must be Charles' adoptive mother, slowly made her way to where Charles now stood, both he and Rachael frozen and staring in disbelief. Another whirl of heat ran through me, not from fear, but from excitement. The sudden change in atmosphere was in no doubt due to his mother's remark about Denise! Something that seemed to have jolted some sort of memory.

  “16” I answered. Charles made a single utterance of disbelief, a futile attempt to calm the frenzy that had apparently erupted inside a previously calm soul.

  “Who was Denise?” I asked, unable to bear the intense and overly prolonged scrutiny that an estranged relative might give upon reuniting after many years. "Was she my mother?"

  Charles nodded, "I believe so".

  "So you know who my father was?" He nodded again. A low groan escaped me, accompanied by a deep sigh of a whole 4 months of anxiety. I had found something, I knew it.

  "You said you can start fires?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  “What else can you do?”

  “Why?”

  “I'd like to know...please.”

  “Well, I can run really fast, pick heavy things up and I can er ..” The weight of never having spoken of my ability to fly stopped me.

  “Fly?” he said, completing my sentence for me, his eyebrows raised expectantly. I nodded slowly. My next question muffled by his chest as he pulled me in for an embrace.

  “I can't believe it.” He said, his arms tightening.

  I had been hugged before, although seldom and with much less enthusiasm, I had been hugged. But I had never had such a random, unexpected act of intimacy thrust on me without warning or acceptance. And although I was sure there must have been a good reason for his irrational behaviour, I couldn't contain the fear that swept through me. Igniting every nerve as it did, momentarily clouding my thoughts. So when I gave, what I intended as a simple push, a huge surge of heat pulsated out from me. Throwing Charles back into the wall in the far end of the room. Undaunted he sat back up, his hair briskly shuddering as he regained his thoughts while patting down the two smouldering hand prints in the chest of his shirt.

  “I'm sorry.” I said, “I didn't mean to hurt you.”

  “It's fine.” Charles replied bouncing back up to his feet. “You didn't hurt me!” That was obvious from his new found energy and vitality as he crossed the living room floor in a few well-placed strides. His skin, although perfectly tanned as the rest of him was, peering through two singed holes untouched by the blast.

  How? I thought, my face asking the question before my lips could.

  “Claudia, I lied when I said we never found the person who was starting the fires. We always knew who it was. It was me.”

  "Huh?" I thought out loud.

  “I was engaged 17 years ago, to a girl named Denise. We'd not long found out she was pregnant and then, one night … she just disappeared.”

  “Huh!” I repeated, this time consciously. “You're telling me you're the one I've been looking for? You're my father?”

  “It looks that way.” He answered. “I mean, you have my gifts.”

  "Your gifts?" I shook my head refusing to believe him. "Sure you took the blast, but 'gifts', you can’t be!" He can't! Surely, my father was some kind of fugitive living in some elusive hideout. He wasn't a happily married, part-time school teacher. “Why didn't you ever look for me?” I asked.

  “I looked for Denise for months, but she was gone. There was no trace of her.”

  “That doesn't make any sense." I said, my voice rising in unison with the heat. "I was born in a hospital, there must have been records."

  “I never found any. “

  So you never knew the baby was born?” I asked.

  “No.”

  The word left his mouth as the wistful plea of someone reminiscing on a painful memory. I wanted to continue on the same line of argumentation, if only to channel my own pain. I had already accepted that my father had never come for me, but the reason why had always been much more imaginative than simply not being able to. And there as the truth stood face to face with me, I realised I was much more hurt by the fact that he wasn't the warrior I had been hoping for than the fact that he had never come for me.

  “There has to be a mistake” I said, “I've had dreams about my father, my real father and he was a warrior, not a part-time teacher.”

  “A warrior?” He repeated, slightly bemused, “Why would I be a warrior?”

  “Because that's what I need.” I said my voice reaching at least two octaves higher than usual, the same time as my heart sank into the depths of my stomach. All these weeks of planning my revenge crashed down around me.

  “Claudia.” He said placing his hand on my shoulder.

  “Don't!” I snapped, surges of heat shot through me, igniting every nerve ending in my body. All of those years of training and today I suddenly felt as if I had no control over my abilities at all. “This isn't how it was supposed to be.” I shouted, searching the room for a quick escape, my nerves were twitching and ready to explode.

  “Keep calm.” Charles said, noticing my state, "I'll explain as much as I can."

  But it was too late to keep calm, and too late for any explanations. I needed to run. Which I did. Back through the front door and down the street I'd walked up earlier. It wasn't long before I realised that I wasn't alone, Charles was running beside me, keeping pace with me regardless how fast I tried to go. The streets became a blur of brown and green, the wind a low buzz. I could reach speeds of 60mph having successfully broken my own records month after month. But I had been trained daily, taught how to focus my abilities and push myself past boundaries, how had Charles managed to get so fast. Our route finally led us to a cliff, maybe water will give me an advantage land hadn't. Thankfully it did. Those hours of water training paid off and Charles was soon left behind. Just to be sure I continued for a good while after, eventually crawling into the shore of a small island.

  The day certainly had not gone how I had expected. I should have been with my father that night, constructing a plan to find the new headquarters for the facility and destroy it, along with Dr Q.

  But, as much as the reality of my father had disappointed me, I couldn't help wonder, regardless of his warrior capabilities, would it really had been so bad if I had stayed anyway?

  I didn't sleep that night, spending most of the night thinking about how life would be if I had stayed with Charles and his wife. If my childhood dream of having a normal family and a normal life could really become a reality and if I could even live up to it if it did. By morning I was no closer to a solution than when I arrived at the island. But one thing I did know is that I had to return to speak to Charles once more.

  * * *

  Two weeks passed before I decided it was time I made my way back to Westpoint , my mind full of questions I'd needed answers to for a long time, mainly about where my abilities came from, but curious also about my mother, how she came to be Charles fiancée and even Rachael who was now his wife. In my experience, people didn't want to be around much longer after they found out about my abilities and those that did only wanted to exploit them and get what they could from them. Was it really possible someone could love you after discovering you were so different from other people, other normal people? For what gain would they do something like that?

  The sun hung directly overhead by the time I arrived at their house. Noon wasn't my favo
urite part of the day by any means. I knocked the door lightly, my heart beating as I waited for an answer that never came. Ah, I blew out a short sigh, hoping my anxiety would leave with it. It didn't, in fact quite the opposite. I've never really felt much physical pain, but emotionally I've definitely had my share. And one thing I've learnt about pain is that if you can't avoid it, it's better to get it over with. 'So what do I do?' I thought. If I could at least fool myself into thinking I was busy, maybe waiting wouldn't be so bad. Because I was going to wait, there was no question about that. I'd left it long enough. There was a side passage that led to the back, the living room window was along that passage. The living room looked the same as it had the day I first arrived except for a stack of folders on the desk. Photo albums, I guessed after getting as close to the glass as possible to get a closer look. Why would they have taken out a stack of photo albums? Could they have been looking for photos of my mother?

  "So," I said aloud, giving the window a quick shove, "at least I really do have something to get busy with!" because really, who could blame me for being curious. The window was locked which wasn't surprising even though it seemed like a fairly nice and safe area. I guess you never know when someone will try I to break in, I laughed, spreading my hands along the glass. The glass creaked as it warmed beneath my hands, the frame expanding until a small click indicated that the small latch that served as a lock had snapped.

  I was immediately drawn to a red, A5 sized photo album with the words “The two of us – Always” Inscribed on it. A young Charles looked back at me from the first page; he was a handsome man by all standards with wavy, golden brown hair giving him a careless look I'm sure a lot of girls loved. He stood, reclining against a tree in casual attire with his arm wrapped around the waist of a girl, whose smooth ebony skin was complemented perfectly by the pale yellow dress she wore. Her hand, which rest on his, was adorned by a ring, modest yet quite obviously an engagement ring. So this was my mother, I thought, the air in my lungs becoming heavy.

  I had never really grieved the fact that I had lost my mother. My focus had always been on finding my father. What would never be was of no concern to me! A lesson I had learnt quite early in the orphanage as I was refused time and time again by potential foster parents, the most common reason being given that perhaps I wasn't a good fit for them. What a good fit was I was never sure, until now, looking at my mother. Her eyes were brown but mine held the same shape. Her hair, shorter in length but just as wild, the thick curls never seeming to know where to sit. And by the far the most resembling feature, her smile. Page after page she wore the same smile, bold and large. I didn't smile much anymore, but I had seen the same smile on my own face in the many photos that hung at the home of my one time foster mother, Mrs Maple's house. I had smiled there, for a small while thinking I had finally become a good fit and found a home. Almost two years I spent with Mrs Maple, she had even considered adopting me. But of course, being me, she had soon found that perhaps I wasn't such a great fit after all. Completely my fault, or at least the existence of my 'gift' as she had called it once. My 'gift' as even Charles had referred to it when we met, had always been my barrier to being normal and accepted, and never quite a good fit. Something it seemed Charles hadn't experienced, if his album was anything to go by. Each page holding a photo of the couple at various ages of their childhood and in each page Denise wore the same captivating smile as she held onto Charles in some way. It seemed they had known each other from a young age and she had obviously accepted his 'gifts'. As had Rachael who stared back at me from a framed photo which also contained Denise, Charles and another boy.

  A wave of guilt attempted to smother the envy I felt at that moment for him, Charles, my father. Although sharing my abilities, he had secured a successful adoption by an apparently loving women, had been engaged twice and married at least once as far as I knew and at that time he was, albeit the most boring profession I knew of, a teacher. And although I wasn't sure exactly how many people knew of his abilities, I did know that despite them he had been seen as a good, if not perfect fit by many people in his life. I, however, had been rejected, shunned or at least used by all but 1 of the people I knew. Dr J. The memory jolted me back to reality. My reality. I didn't have time for such foolish, sentimental thoughts. Still holding the photo, I made my way back to the driveway just in time to see the car pulling up in with Charles, Rachael and Charles' mother.

  "You came back?" He said, spreading his arms slightly for a hug, but reconsidering it at the last moment. He stopped short, his eyes remaining cautious.

  “I just came to say sorry, for the way I left last time.” I said.

  “Its fine, I understand. The main thing is that you came back.” His smile widened with a hope I hadn't yet offered.

  “I'm so glad you came back.” Charles' mother said closing in on our space only to be stopped by Charles in a manner which was both abrupt and gentle at the same time.

  "This is my mother, Veronica.” He said before turning to her, “It might be better if we just talk for a moment if you don't mind.” he said.

  “Of course.” She nodded “but I do hope you stay with us dear.” she said before continuing into the house. Rachael said nothing as she nodded to Charles and then followed his mother into the house.

  “You will stay, won't you?” Charles said when they'd left. Soft green speckles of light shimmering in his eyes as he waited for an answer. That was the moment I had waited for, for so long. To find my father and be able to stay with him. It should have been a dream come true. But Charles wasn't who I thought he would be, he wasn't a warrior or a fugitive or anyone of that sort of calibre that would help me fulfil my revenge on the facility. He was a good-natured, hardworking man who had his wife and mother to look after. We were two worlds apart and as much as I wanted to be with him, I didn't want to disrupt his life.

  “I don't know.” I finally responded. “I don't think I belong here.”

  “Of course you do. You're my daughter. This is your home.”

  Home? Something I had wanted for so long, but ... “I don't want to cause any trouble.”

  “I don't understand. I thought you came here to find your father?” He asked.

  “I did.”

  “So what's the problem?”

  “I just thought you would be different. You know, a warrior and we'd be like two warriors taking on the world together. But you're just a regular guy and I don't know if I can be a regular girl. I just .." I sighed heavily as the words formed on my tongue, "I don't fit."

  A soft laugh left his throat. "Yeh, I know how that feels." he said.

  "I doubt it."

  “We're the same Claudia.” he said stepping closer and placing his hands on my shoulders. “If I can fit in, you can. We have the same gifts.”

  “No, you have one gift I've never had!” I said pushing the photo of him and his friends, which I still held, into his hand. “You have people who care about you.”

  He looked down at the photo a light moisture filming his eyes. “I care about you.” He finally said slowly tracing his thumb across the image of Denise. “I loved your mother so much, you know? And you brought so many memories back to me that day we met. The last two weeks I've almost driven myself crazy, wondering where you went and if you would come back." He sighed heavily and looked back up at me. "I wish I had looked for her more when she went missing and that I could have been a part of your life since you were born, but I can't change what happened. I can only try to make up for it.” His eyes searched mine for a response.

  “But you have a family Charles.” I answered meekly, as if his responsibility for his family would somehow be in jeopardy if I stayed.

  “Yes, and you're a part of it. My Mom's been asking about you...every day. She really wanted you to come back too.”

  He really wants me to stay, I told myself, despite our obvious differences he wants me to stay and so does his mother!

  A warm feeling, unlike the type of heat I norm
ally experienced as my ability warmed up, spread through my body. It was the type of warm, happy feeling you might experience when finally receiving a gift you've always wanted on your birthday. “You really want me to stay?” I asked almost giddily.

  Charles smiled back and nodded, “Will you?”

  “You think I'm a 'good fit'?” I asked, mockingly emphasizing the last two words.

  Charles looked at me with a bemused expression. “You're a perfect fit Claudia.” Perfect? The word echoed inside me causing a ripple that threatened to emerge as a giggle.

  "Ok." I said through clenched jaws and followed with a hard inhale hoping to submerge the giggle as deeply as possible.

  Charles sighed and held out his hand to me. “Do you want to come in? Mom's making apple pie tonight.”

  That did it, the giggle was loose and followed by a whole chorus of giggles. Charles giggled back softly,

  “You'll like it here." He said taking my hand into his.

  I think so, I thought.

  CHAPTER 4

  The night passed pleasantly enough. We all sat in the kitchen while Veronica, who I felt obliged to call Mrs Williams, cooked. Her auburn hair shimmered in the light as she moved around the kitchen in a manner similar to Mrs Maple who always called her kitchen her haven. She claimed the kitchen was the place she found the most respite after the passing of her husband and this was where I was usually sure to find her. Veronica, who barely looked old enough to have a son Charles' age, had been widowed many years earlier, and judging by the glow in her hair-coloured eyes as she prepared the meal I assumed her story was similar to that of Mrs Maple.