The House Next Door

by Delilah Brennan

  “I’m tired.” Keira complained, sitting up long enough to stuff the pillow beneath her head again. Jenna rubbed her own eyes and untangled the blankets that had become twisted around her legs during the restless night. “Should we get up?”

  “For what?” She yawned and snuggled deeper into the covers.

  “Dad’s preaching this morning.”

  “Oh yeah.” Keira said without opening her eyes. “Mom’ll come wake us up when its time to go.”

  “Yeah.” Jenna nodded after a moment. After all, they’d only went to bed a few hours ago-a little more sleep couldn’t hurt, she reasoned, pulling the blankets up and around her shoulders and closing her eyes. Just a few minutes of sleep would surely be all right...

  ***

  She was dreaming; Jenna was far away from home on some kind of tropical paradise, maybe Hawaii or some other island. In front of her stretched a see-through pale purple ocean where giant shiny goldfish swam lazily under a huge, hot bright sun. Behind her was a line of lacy palm trees and beneath her...beneath her lay the softest stretch of baby fine sand, each satiny warm granule a delicate shell pink color. Jenna swayed to the light strains of far away music-a harp, she thought with a smile, and dropped to her hands and knees before the gentle waves. She scissored her hands through the water with light swishing movements, fascinated by the ripples she created in the ocean. But soon the gentle music began to increase in volume, louder and louder until the whimsical notes of the harp became a shrill, screaming alarm…

  “Jenna wake up-the house is on fire!”

  “What?!” Jenna’s eyes snapped open at the panicked tone of her sisters voice. The dream beach was long gone and it only took Jenna a few seconds to realize that she was in her own bed and the screeching sounds were coming from downstairs, a heart-stopping mix of the fire alarm and her mother’s screaming.

  Keira clasped her arm in an iron grip and pulled hard, yanking her off of the bed and propelling her through the open door and down the stairs.

  “I cant believe she did it again!” Jenna had to raise her voice to be heard over the cacophony of sounds below.

  “Just hurry-she might be hurt!” Keira kept a solid grip on Jenna’s upper arm and the two flew down the carpeted stairs, jumped the landing together and raced through the family room. It was already filled with smoke, Jenna noted with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, worse even than when Blake had taken she and Keira to the county fair and Keira had dared her to ride the Gravitron.

  “Mom!” She screamed, racing ahead of Keira to pass through the hazy arch that led to the kitchen.

  “Girls! Get out of here!” Mom was emptying the fire extinguisher that the family kept mounted to the wall next to the sink, over a stove that was almost fully engulfed in bright red and orange flame. Both girls watched in horror as those flames leapt up the wall behind the stove; watched the wheat and apple patterned wall paper turn brown and curl and peel down the wall in thin strips.

  “Mom we have to get out of here now!” Keira yelled, darting forward to tug on her mothers blue-or green-sleeve, it was hard to see clearly through the smoke.

  “No, I can put this out, but you girls get out of here-the fire department should be here any minute!” She ordered, her voice barely audible over the fire alarm.

  “Mom!”

  “I said go!”

  “Jenna help me grab her!”

  But they were saved by the fire department from having to drag their mother from the kitchen a split second later. Jenna coughed and sputtered on the front lawn, eyes tearing up in the cool slight breeze before breathing a sigh of relief.

  “Are you girls okay?” Mrs. Jones whacked a coughing Keira sharply on the back, smoothing t-shirt fabric down the girl’s back before turning questioning eyes to her youngest daughter. Both girls assured her that they were more or less fine though Jenna wondered if her own eyes were as pink as her mother and sisters looked. She blinked several times in the early morning air.

  “Were you cooking pancakes?” Jenna wanted to know.

  “What’s it matter what she was cooking?” Keira rolled her eyes.

  “I’m hungry.” Jenna grumbled, glumly eyeing the flashing lights and smoldering kitchen.

  “Its alright,” Mom sent a warning look to Keira, one everyone in the house was well used to- it said ‘be nice‘. “Actually girls I was trying to make donuts. But I used too much oil and then your father called. I turned back to my cooking to pour some excess oil into a bowl next to the stove but I drained a little too much.”

  “Oh boy.” Keira exhaled, practically seeing what had happened next.

  “So I went to pour more oil into the pan and it splashed out and somehow I managed to dump over the bowl too.”

  “Well,” Jenna shifted from one foot to the other as one by one her body’s needs began to make themselves known. Now that the initial shock had worn off she had to go to the bathroom. “At least no one was hurt.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Mom smiled though she glanced doubtfully at the house. “Of course we’re probably going to be late now.” She sighed.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t go.” Jenna was practically hopping in place now.

  “No,” Mom frowned “Your father has been doing mission work all month and he spent a lot of time and effort on this mornings message. We are going to be right there in the first pew to see him speak. Now then, all we have to do is clean up get dressed eat breakfast and drive to the church-and we need to do it in twenty minutes.”

  “Oh go behind the bushes already.” Keira sighed, finally taking notice of her sisters plight.

  “No I can hold it.” Jenna ground her back teeth together and made a concerted effort to stand still.

  “Come on girls,” Mrs. Jones placed a hand on each of her daughters arms and shepherded them toward the blue Ford Escape that was parked at the curb.

  “Wait mom- your purse.” Keira reminded her.

  “Oh you’re right. Its in the house.”

  “Well I could go and ask the firemen to get it for us.” Keira offered.

  Jenna step hopped on the other side of the car where no one could see her and tried not to groan at the delay.

  “Okay run and see if they’ll just grab it for us real quick. I left it on the coffee table.”

  “Got it,” Keira nodded briefly before sprinting toward the house.

  “Be careful!” Mom shouted after her. “Maybe I should have gone instead.“ She told Jenna over the hood of the car.

  “She’ll be fine,” Jenna was quick to reassure. “Besides it looks like they’ve nearly got the fire put out.”

  “Hmmm...you know if you need to go around the side of the house Jenna…“

  “I don’t.”

  “You’re not going to have an accident in the car are you?”

  “Jeez mom,” Jenna mumbled and her eyes cut automatically to the side even though she knew there was no one around to hear her mothers embarrassing question. “I’m almost twelve. I don’t have accidents.”

  “You look like you’re about to have an accident.” Mrs. Jones pointed out.

  “I can hold it.” Jenna stubbornly insisted.

  “Alright fine.” Her mother held both hands up. “You know your own body.”

  Keira came running out of the front door right then, darting across the lawn fast enough to lose her footing. The bottoms of her faded pink flip flops became slick against grass that was dusted with fresh morning dew; Mom rushed forward and even Jenna quit hopping as Keira went down on one knee in the grass. Much of the contents of the tan leather tote bag she carried spilled onto the front lawn as she used both hands to brace herself.

  Behind her firemen beat a hasty retreat out the side door that faced the driveway, hoses blasting away as a loud boom seemed to rattle the very Earth beneath their feet. The Jones’s watched in numb shock as flames shot out the living room window and seemed to reach high into the misty, smoky sky.

  “Keira what happened?” Mrs. Jone
s cried, scooping up both daughter and purse and half running half dragging them both to the curb. “What did you do?”

  “Me?” Keira gasped, wide eyed. “I didn’t do anything. The fire got out of control.” She sucked in a breath and glanced toward the house. “Its pretty bad mom.”

  Jenna wrapped her arms around her waist and shrank back against the car as neighbors up and down the block began to gather on their lawns.

  “Jenna?” Carla Jones, who remained crouched low next to Keira, glanced back at her youngest daughter with open concern. “You okay?”

  “Ah…” Jenna bit her lip and looked away. “It turns out I couldn’t hold it.”

  And it looked as if a few extra minutes of sleep hurt after all.

  Chapter Four

  Nahum 1:7 The Lord is good, a strong hold in the day of trouble; and He knoweth them that trust in Him.

  "Come on, girls," Mom had dusted herself off and was up and moving around the side of the car. The drivers door clicked loudly when she pulled it open and again when she pulled it closed and motioned for her daughters to do the same. "Get in. Your Daddy's going to be upset if we're late."

  "Yeah," Keira muttered, tossing a look over her shoulder at the blazing remains of their house. "That's why he'll be upset today."

  "Is she really taking us to the church?" Jenna hissed, hoping against all odds that none of the neighbors had witnessed what she was already referring to as her moment of shame.

  "It looks that way." Keira shook her head, clearly not understanding her mothers logic any better than her sister did.

  "We had better get in before she gets her mad voice going."

  "I can't go in there like this!" Jenna protested, waving a hand over her wet shorts. "I cant even get in the car like this."

  "Um," Keira bit her lip and eyed her sister for a moment before snapping her fingers and striding toward the car. "I left my blue hoodie in the back seat after gymnastics last week. I think it's still back there-you can sit on that."

  "Are you sure?" Jenna asked, pulling the door open and peering into the back seat. Sure enough the sweater lay in a heap on the floorboard. "It's going to get..uh, dirty." She finished, lowering her voice.

  "Yeah," Keira shrugged, a touch of sympathy in her voice. "It's okay-we'll wash it...eventually." She added, glancing once more to where the firemen still worked at spraying a thick jet of water on the house. "But don't ask me what you're supposed to do when we get to the church. Sorry." Keira put a hand on her sisters shoulder and smiled.

  "Thanks," Jenna sighed and arranged the baby blue hooded sweatshirt in a double layer on the seat before climbing in and wiping as much dirt as possible from her bare legs and closing the door.

  "Don't worry Jenna," Mom met her eyes in the rearview mirror. "We will find you something to wear once we get there."

  "Fine." Jenna gave her mother a small, tight smile and a brief nod; even though her heart was pounding and her stomach was churning at the very thought of going into a public place. The knowledge that they were headed to a safe place, one where no one was likely to laugh at her plight only went so far in easing her mind. Wetting your pants and having anyone know about it was turning out be a completely humiliating experience.

  "There's no need to be embarrassed." Mrs. Jones seemed to read her thoughts.

  "Uh-huh."

  "You know," she continued, tightening her hands on the wheel, "This sort of thing happens to everyone."

  "Right."

  "Mom," Keira cleared her throat and sent a look to her sister before facing forward again. "Are you sure that we should have left the house like that?"

  "It'll be fine," Carla Jones was quick to reassure, turning the car left. Gravel crunched under the tires as they continued up the winding lane that led to the church. "Oh good we're only a few minutes late."

  "Yes, but," Keira unclipped her seat belt and twisted around to face her mother. "Won't the firemen wonder where we're at?" She wanted to know. Actually it was a question that Jenna was also curious about.

  "Those men are professionals dear; they know what they're doing. Besides, you saw the size of that blaze," she sighed, "There’s nothing we can do there for a while."

  "Yeah, I guess that's true." Keira reasoned. "I bet the fire got to a gas line."

  "I thought the first thing the firemen are supposed to do is turn the gas off at the meter." Jenna frowned and reached for the door handle, though she was loath to leave the safety and security of the back seat.

  "Yes, I think they're supposed to," Keira agreed.

  "Sometimes there's still a little gas in the lines." Mrs. Jones explained before climbing from the car. "But I'm sure everything will be fine."

  "But the house-"

  "Will hopefully be standing when we get back from the service."

  "Dad's gonna be mad." Jenna pointed out, forcing herself to make that leap of faith and step out of the car. She knotted the blue sweatshirt tightly around her waist and put her hands on her hips as she stared at the church. Well, at least everyone was already inside.

  “Come on, girls,” Mama held out one slim but strong hand. “That’s another thing we will just have to deal with later. For now, lets get Jenna changed and get to that front row, shall we?”

  “Might as well.” Keira sighed.

  “Why not?” Jenna grumbled.

  “That’s the spirit.”

  ***

  Jenna returned her Dad’s smile and forced herself to stay focused on him and not look around at the large array of people that had gathered for the morning’s service. She didn’t think the congregation behind them was paying her or her family any attention-not much anyway. To their credit though, Jenna and her mother and sister did smell like smoke. Still, Jenna couldn’t complain about the pervasive, woodsy odor that clung to her skin and shirt and hair, mostly because she was pretty sure it was masking other, less pleasant smells. Jenna cringed and met her fathers eyes again. He raised a brow at her frown but kept addressing the congregation from the pulpit. Despite their best efforts, they had arrived late and then it had taken Jenna even longer to find an extra pair of pants and change. They managed to catch the last minute or so of what had, by all accounts, been a very moving speech on helping their fellow man with grace and forgiveness.

  Mr. Jones finished speaking then, replacing the microphone on its stand and offering one of his trademark smiles to the modest sized crowd. Jenna knew it was one of the things that most people liked best about her father-he was always talking, always animated, moving around and gesturing, though somehow Jenna had always thought of him as calm and laid back.

  She loved to listen to him preach, and just as the sights and sounds and leathery scent of the church were familiar and welcoming, so was the sound of her fathers voice. What she really loved though was to lay awake and listen to the sound of her parents talking in the other room. For years, they had probably thought she was sleeping but really she would stay awake as long as she could, eyes closed, and let the soothing fluid tone of her parents voices lull her into a peaceful sleep.

  Unlike most peoples parents that she knew, hers talked a lot, usually about nothing of great importance, just basic day to day stuff, anything and everything. She clung to that thought as the service ended and people began filing out into the bright mid-morning sunlight. It was true that her parents loved each other and had a great relationship, but what would daddy say when he found out mama had burned down the house? Jenna bit her lip and looked over at her mom. She didn’t look nervous, Jenna thought as she held her breath and watched her parents meet one another in front of the floor to ceiling stained glass window.

  “Do you thing he’ll be mad?” She whispered to her sister, who'd come to stand next to her by the end of the first row of pews.

  “Probably. I would be.” Keira admitted, “But then again, this is Dad we’re talking about.”

  “Yeah,” Jenna nodded, ever hopeful.

  Both girls stayed where they were at, watching their
parents closely but at the same time giving them a small degree of privacy. Mr. and Mrs. Jones embraced and Carla smiled at something her husband said. But both Jenna and Keira could pinpoint, almost down to the second, that moment when their father took a deep breath and sniffed the air, as though he smelled something burning and the instant he realized the smell was coming from Mrs. Jones…his eyes widened and the girls watched their mother speak quickly, gesturing with her hands, and finally with a shrug that seemed to say ‘well that’s that’.

  Mr. Jones looked across the church to his daughters, then back down at his wife before he eyed the ceiling, then the floor, and his shoulders began to tremble. Both girls rushed forward, then.

  “Dad?” Jenna stopped about a foot away from him.

  “Are you okay?” Keira asked, placing her hand on his shoulder.

  “Troy?” Mama asked, clearly worried.

  This is bad, Jenna thought, he's crying. Somehow she hadn't pictured that sort of response from her father.

  But when he lifted his head, all three Jones women were astonished to find that he wasn't crying at all-he was laughing.

  Chapter Five

  Psalm 34:18 The LORD is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit.

  "Troy?" Carla Jones tried again, not yet looking reassured.

  "He's laughing." Jenna whispered to Keira.

  "I can see that." Keira frowned.

  "Why's he laughing?"

  "How should I know? Maybe he's hysterical." Keira considered.

  "Girls," Mrs. Jones chastised, "We can both hear you."

  "It's alright," Mr. Jones choked with laughter, wiped tears from his green eyes before grinning at his family and shaking his head. "I was just thinking, " he explained, throwing one arm around his wife and another around his daughters, "that you, Carla, are the only woman I know who could burn down the house cooking breakfast."

  "Well, really Troy." She sniffed and looked away, "I don't see how that's amusing."

  "Hey," he smiled down at her, "as long as no one was hurt, right?

  "Now that's very true," She met his eyes and finally returned his smile. "Ah, so does this mean you're ready to go and see the house?" She asked. "Or what's left of it..."

  "We might as well, don't you think?" Mr. Jones asked before turning and leading his family down the aisle and out into the bright sun washed gravel lot.