Soul Fire

by Nancy Allan

  “The cat?”

  “What else?”

  “No idea. I looked around the yard while I was waiting for you, but didn’t see anything.” I wrinkled my nose. “Didn’t smell anything either.”

  She put her hands on her hips as though she had arrived at some sort of conclusion. “Well, Girl, you sure do know how to attract a ton of trouble. Better tell me the whole sordid story.”

  She left an hour later, taking the tail and attachments with her. Thank goodness for that. I hosed down the porch, scrubbed it with bleach and a long handled mop, then hosed it again, trying to eliminate the smell and stains. Satisfied, I went inside. Mom’s head popped out from the daycare as I walked by. “She gone?”

  “Yeah. Took the…er… tail…with her.”

  Mom looked pale. “Check on Grandma, will you? She’s laying down in her room. If she looks ill, call me. I wanted her to go to the hospital, but she wouldn’t have any part of it.”

  Reluctantly, I tiptoed down the hall. Why, I felt I needed to be quiet, I don’t know. The door to her room was open, so I peered in. Grandma was barely visible under the duvet. A tuft of grey hair told me she was under there, but there was no movement and no sign that she was breathing. Still on my toes, I approached her bed, straining to hear a sound, a snore, anything. The room was deathly silent. I fought down an overwhelming desire to flee. Had she croaked? Would I pull the covers back and see a . . . corpse? I shuddered and looked back at the door. I wanted out of there, but I couldn’t leave without checking . . . just in case she was still alive and needed help.

  I reached out with one hand and gently, very gently, pulled back the duvet. Two sunken green eyes stared up at me. They didn’t move. Her face was colorless. It was like looking down on a statue. I held my breath. Was she dead?

  Suddenly, there was a whoosh of air and her eyes focused on me. “What the heck are you gaping at?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I tried again only to have a hiccup of laughter break free. I swallowed it down. “Mom—” I sniggered uncontrollably. What was happening to me? I tried again, “Mom . . .”

  “Mom, what? Spit it out, for crying out loud.”

  Suddenly, things got out of hand and a belly laugh erupted out of me. Try as I might, I couldn’t prevent it. Knowing how inappropriate this was, I backed from the room with my hand over my mouth. Out in the hallway, I managed enough control to choke out: “Mom… wanted to be sure… you were…still alive.”

  Justin

  FORTY-THREE

  When I pulled up in front of Celeste’s house, she was pacing the sidewalk, waiting for me. She climbed in, her long, bare legs sliding out in front of her as she pushed the seat back. “Let’s go,” she said. “If Ashla sees this, she’s going to wonder what’s going on. I didn’t have a chance to tell her about our meeting.”

  I pulled away from the curb. “How is she?”

  Celeste tucked golden strands of hair behind one tiny ear. “Not great. I told you about the accident and Mako running us off the road. She wasn’t hurt too much. Just banged her head, but the worst part is that she’s now blacklisted by all of our parents. They all have the same fear that being around Ashla equals being in serious danger. Poor Ashla is an outcast. Again.”

  “That sucks. She’s been through a rough enough time without being cut off from her friends, but I sure can appreciate their concern.”

  Celeste was watching me. “Hmmn. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it sounds like you care.”

  “Of course I care,” I replied before I could catch myself. “None of this should’ve happened to her. Not any of it. She’s a good person. Really special.” And gorgeous, I thought.

  “So, why don’t we turn around and pick her up? We could do some brainstorming."

  My hands tightened on the wheel. Just talking about Ashla made my heart pound. She still pops into my dreams and I think about her all the time, in spite of myself. Yet, I haven’t been able to come to terms with the crazy disguise she used at the pool. That whole scene bugged me to no end, and I wasn’t sure why. “Maybe next time,” I said.

  Celeste seemed troubled. “The thing with this is . . . her parents did all the right things. You know, they took Ashla out of Mount Olympic, and even out of the district by sending her up to Huntley. But none of that worked. Those horrible websites have made it impossible for her to get a fresh start.”

  “Websites?” My thoughts flew to Mole! He was supposed to have killed those. I tried to conceal my anger. “Are you telling me those websites are still up?”

  She gave me a weird look. “Of course. No one ever takes them down. They are the virtual plague of cyberspace. It’s like this sick hangout for pervs and psychos.”

  Celeste sounded bitter, and who could blame her. I would need to make good on the threat I had laid on Mole. Obviously, he had not taken me seriously. “I’ve never been on one of those sites. Thought maybe they came and went.”

  “Wish that were true.”

  She was quiet for a while. Her long blonde hair blew across her face. She swiped at it and rolled up her window. “This whole situation with Ashla makes me so mad. I keep thinking there must be a way to stop Mako and the rest of them, but somehow I’m missing the key. Every time I try to analyze it, I come up with the same answer. I think the only way to find a solution to the bullying problem, aside from having a dedicated deputy in the school and parents patrol the grounds, is to break the problem areas into components and deal with each one separately.”

  I parked the truck on our driveway and we got out. Celeste wanted to meet my mom, but we had arrived before she had returned home from a hair appointment. I dropped the truck keys into my jeans pocket and looked across at Celeste. “I think you’re right about dealing with each aspect of bullying separately, although there is one common overall solution that will minimize the problem.”

  “Really?” Celeste looked intrigued.

  “Yeah. Zero tolerance toward bullying. And I mean ZERO. It would have to be backed up with a defined set of consequences and repercussions so students understand exactly what’s going to happen to them if they get involved in bullying. Like hockey. Do this, and you get a penalty. Do that, and you’re gone. At least that’s how our team operates. But unlike hockey, the problem is catching the person when it happens.” Celeste made our way to the front door as we talked. She was fascinated.

  I continued, “Remember last time we talked, I told you my mom was going to take some of her ideas to the Parents’ Group? Well, she did and they came up with a plan. It’s expensive, but Mom offered to cover the costs. Her idea is to upgrade the video security system and add an integrated audio component. Then, install this in classrooms, hallways, and common areas like the cafeteria, gym, auditorium, and so on. She wants to use one of the empty storage rooms for the monitor banks. They will capture, record, and store any incidents of bullying so that the student involved can be taken to task for it.”

  “What about the school grounds?” Celeste asked. “Will they be installed outside? The grounds can be the worst.”

  “They will. And the parent group is arranging volunteers to monitor the grounds before school and at the end of the day.”

  Celeste nodded thoughtfully. “Wow. Your mom’s doing great.”

  “Yeah, she is.” I agreed. In fact, she had thrown herself fully into this, as if it was her salvation and sole purpose in life. She had joined AA and was now clear eyed and clear headed. No more orange juice and vodka. For the first time in months, she was up early making creative breakfasts for us and the minute my dad stepped out the door, she set to work on what she refers to as Project No Bullying.

  “She’s got a few more ideas,” I told Celeste. “In addition to upgraded security cameras, she wants to install video monitors into the classrooms and common areas so staff and students can do live broadcasts of school news, events, and so on. She wants to convert that old storage room that I mentioned into a media room as well. It will house
both the security monitors and in-house broadcast equipment.”

  Celeste’s seemed excited about the whole idea. “Fantastic. Why didn’t someone come up with this earlier, I wonder?”

  I unlocked the front door and Celeste was knocked sideways into me. Bones was on full slobber and lick attack. “Hey, Bones,” I hollered, grabbing his collar and pulling him off Celeste. “Have some manners.”

  Celeste laughed. “Whew, big change from last time.”

  “Yeah, he’s got an elephant’s memory. Once he gets your scent and you’re approved, you’re in for a lifetime of dog breath and sloppy licks.” I held Bones down and motioned her to follow me through the house to the back patio. We stepped outside. Her mouth dropped. I keep forgetting how the pool area and gardens look to other people. “Here.” I pulled out a chair for her. “Can I get you anything? Lemonade? Iced Tea?”

  She was frozen in place. Her eyes moved across the huge pool to the spa, then to the waterfall, to the fountain, across the back gardens, and eventually back to me.

  “Hey,” I said, trying to revive her. “It’s no big deal. Really. My dad happens to earn a good living, that’s all. We’re no different than anyone else.”

  She blinked. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. “My dad’s a pastor. He happens to earn almost nothing. He tells me our wealth is inside of us. It’s what we share with others that forms the landscape of our lives.”

  It was my turn to be speechless. Her words pierced right through my reality. Had my dad ever, ever offered anything to another living being? For that matter, had I?

  Celeste and I were standing there, on the patio, face to face when my father’s unexpected arrival brought us out of our reverie.

  “Hey, Boy. Soaking up the sun, I see, with this lovely lady here.”

  Celeste stepped backward and looked like she was about to run for it. I made introductions, hoping to salvage the situation, but the only happy person there was my father. He always liked it when I brought home a beautiful girl, and there was no doubt, Celeste topped them all.

  Regardless of the warm day, he was wearing a three-piece suit and tie, but what had grabbed my attention was the large brown envelope in his hand. He raised it up like it was a winning lottery ticket and said, “Here it is, Boy. It’s going out to the Cameron’s this afternoon. We’re going to get them right where they deserve it..”

  Celeste blanched.

  I had reached my limit on the issue and shot back, “Sorry, Dad. That’s not going to happen. I never did sign that statement. I went to your lawyer’s office and scribbled Noname by every X. Your lawyer was on the phone to his stockbroker. He seemed preoccupied.”

  Dad’s arm dropped and he looked down at the envelope. “You didn’t dare—“

  I moved toward him, barely able to keep from shouting. “I keep trying to tell you . . . that accident was as much my fault as Ashla’s. But you won’t listen! Ashla may have skied a closed run that day, but I could have, and should have, moved out of her way. But did I? No! I moved in to catch her. You hear me? She was airborne off a jump. She yelled for me to get out of the way. I did . . . NOT . . . get out of her way! You get that? I did not get out of her way. Instead, I tried to catch her! And because I did that, we collided and went flying down the mountain." I took a step toward my father.

  "To Ashla's credit, she tried to stop our flight by grabbing the only thing out there. A tree. And she ended up with a concussion because of it. Had she not done that, we would have both gone over the edge. We wouldn’t be here now! You understand what I’m saying? We would have died if she hadn’t done what she did. She hit that tree and was injured because of me. I caused her injury," I said angrily. "so, I think we’re even. Understand? Even. That means no lawsuit.”

  I took a breath and added. “I’ve told this to the resort and as a result, they’re not billing the Camerons for our rescue.” I didn’t bother to tell him that Mom had sent a large donation toward the cost of the new lift as well as to Search and Rescue for new equipment.

  My father simply stood there staring at me. I was relentless. “What I’d like to know is,” I lowered my voice, “why would you, a wealthy businessman, want to sue a man who is not only fighting for his life, but barely able to work. Bryan Cameron is not a wealthy man.” I glanced at Celeste. Her eyes were riveted on me. “All he has left is a bit of equity in their humble home. I’m told everything else has gone to pay Ashla’s hospital bills and their growing medical expenses. The family barely gets by on what her mom’s daycare operation brings in. So, you tell me, Dad, what possible pleasure could you get out of taking anything from a man who is dying of cancer and struggling financially?”

  My father’s entire body seemed to have lost its shape. He shook his head, as if confused and ran his other hand over his bald head. Then, without a word, he turned and walked slowly back inside the house. My short victory was like a puck that bounced off the corner of the net.

  A hand rested lightly on my shoulder. “I never knew what really happened on the mountain that day,” Celeste whispered. “Ashla never told me. I don’t think she ever told anyone.”

  I turned to Celeste and found her wiping her eyes. She said, “Thank you for what you just did. The Cameron’s don’t need any more grief. Now, could you please take me home.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  During the short drive back to Celeste’s house, I fumed over the fact that Mole had not taken down his repulsive websites and realized that there was only one way to deal with that.

  I parked in front of Celeste’s house noticing that she had her hand on the door handle before we came to a stop. I reached out and touched her bare arm. “Wait. I need a favor from you.” She turned in her seat and looked at me, her beautiful face completely placid.

  “Sure,” she said softly.

  “Do you have Mount Olympic’s current yearbook, you know, with everyone’s picture in it?”

  “Uh-huh, they came out a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Good. Can you and Ashla go through each and every picture making a note of anyone who had a part in bullying Ashla? Don’t mark the photos though. Use a separate sheet of paper and write down exactly what each person did. Classify it as physical, vocal, or whatever, and rate it out of three. Three being the worst.”

  Her blue eyes were huge. She saw where this was going. “What are you going to do, Justin?”

  “Can’t say right now. I just need you to do this today, if possible. Call me when you’re done and I’ll come by and pick it up.”

  She looked dubious. Pastor’s daughter, do unto others. “Hey,” I said trying to get her attention. “You said yourself they were psychos and pervs. If this works, it might actually help straighten some them out before they get too far down that road.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Hope so.” She rubbed a knuckle across her lip. “Okay. I’ll call you when we’re done.” With that, she climbed out of the truck, never looking back.

  Before pulling out, I grabbed my cell and called Trevor, a good buddy from my hockey team. Past hockey team. His brother designed websites for a living and I needed to have a talk with him.

  Ashla

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Crossbow’s absence had changed the entire dynamic of our household. My grandmother wore nothing but black, spoke little, ate almost nothing, and seemed to have shriveled into herself. The rest of us reacted by letting Grandma have her space. Our normally exuberant family was strangely subdued. Even Anika had taken up whispering—a new experience for her, although I think she liked doing anything that was different.

  I continued my daily studies with Grandma and found her to be an excellent teacher. Our lack of speech seemed to have allowed a bond—of sorts—to develop between us. Wordlessly, she pushed my last exam in front of me. On the top, in red, she had penned 100% with the comment: You’ll pass your finals with honors. Smart girl. I’m very proud of you.

  I was taken aback…totally speechless.

&n
bsp; “You’re ready, Ashla,” she said softly and left the room.

  Was that it then? Were we finished? No more studies? I felt inflated, deflated, happy, and sad all at once. I tried to sort out these conflicting emotions, but gave up.

  Pushing the dining room chair back, I eyed the big clock she had hung on the wall. Not yet noon. Since Crossbow’s disappearance, I had spent lunch hours putting up posters of the missing cat , complete with his photo and our phone number, hoping someone would return him before my grandmother and Crossbow each disappeared into oblivion. Of course, this would depend on his being alive. Grandma had called the local veterinarians and animal shelters, but no one had seen a white Siamese cat.

  I stepped out onto our porch and absorbed the day’s warmth. We seldom used this small space until summer temperatures motivated us to bring up the patio table and chairs. I had turned around to go back inside when I heard a strange sound under the porch. Straining my ears, I listened intently. I heard it again, certain this time that it was a meow.

  Dashing down the stairs, I hurried around the enclosed area under the porch, seeking an opening and calling out, “Crossbow, is that you? Kitty, Kitty? Are you in there?” Determining that the only access was through the small damaged door at one end, I yanked on it until it flew off, landing me on my butt with the makeshift door leaving a large splinter in my hand. Cursing, I tossed it aside and stared into the black hole.

  “Crossbow? Here Kitty, Kitty,” I called out again and stuck my head into the musky darkness. The air was pungent and putrid. I stopped breathing and ducked back out. The sunlight blinded me, so I reached around for the door with the intention of putting it back on so I could go and get a flashlight. Suddenly, fur came flying at me along with a huge, “Meow!” Crossbow landed in my arms. He purred and meowed like mad as I toted him up the back stairs and into the kitchen. The loud meows brought my grandmother flying into the room. The cat leapt at her and literally dove into her flat bosom.