On Blue Falls Pond

by Susan Crandall

  She spared a look at Granny, standing just inside the screen door with her hands on her hips. Then Glory shook her head, and said, “I took a good look around. Everything’s fine.”

  He nodded toward Lady. “Dog didn’t bark?”

  “No. She doesn’t know a stranger.”

  “Nothin’ wrong with that.” He knelt and scratched Lady behind the ears. She danced from paw to paw, tail wagging, tongue lolling—showing herself for the watchdog she wasn’t.

  When he stood, he said, “I’ll have a deputy come all the way up the lane here on his patrols. Just ’til we get this figured out.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff. I’d appreciate that.”

  He tipped his hat to Tula and headed back to his cruiser.

  Glory called, “Sheriff!” She hurried down the steps. When she caught up with him she said softly, so Granny wouldn’t hear, “I’d like to keep this quiet. Please don’t mention this to Chief Wilson if you happen to see him.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  When Glory returned to the porch, Granny said, “I reckon this person never heard of ‘sticks and stones.’ What a pitiful waste of time and energy.” She started away from the door. “Prob’ly have to paint over it. I’ll get the brushes.”

  “Do you still think it could be Jill? Would she drive all the way out here in the middle of the night with her son just to do this?”

  “I’d like to think not—Eric’s got his hands full without shenanigans like this.” She disappeared from the doorway.

  Glory looked at the words painted on the floor and a chill ran down her spine. Each threat moved physically closer. Where would it stop?

  The next afternoon, while Glory dozed in the hammock after being vigilant all night long, she heard a car coming up the lane. Sheriff Cooper had been true to his word; a deputy had driven right up to the house every two hours like clockwork. Granny had busied herself making cookies to give to him on his next pass. The heavenly smell had been teasing Glory’s senses for thirty minutes.

  She heard Granny come out of the kitchen and down the back steps.

  The car stopped and shut off its engine.

  Glory forced her eyes open and lifted her head.

  It wasn’t the deputy at all. It was Eric and Scott.

  She threw her legs over the side of the hammock and hurried over, trying to reach them before Granny told Eric about the little message on their doorstep.

  Granny was just taking Scott into her arms. “Eric called a bit ago,” she said to Glory. “Looks like we’re havin’ overnight comp’ny.”

  Eric shifted and looked at Glory. “Sorry. Jill’s down with the stomach flu, and Gail wasn’t home. Half the night shift’s out with the same virus, so I’m going to have to cover a shift.”

  Granny didn’t act like she noticed the excuse was directed at Glory. She smiled and jostled Scott. “Oh, we don’t mind, do we? I made cookies, and Lady’s been lookin’ for Scott all day. Let’s go see if we can find her.” She headed back into the house.

  Eric handed Glory a small duffel. “Everything he needs is in there.”

  She took it. There were so many things she wanted to say, yet nothing would come out of her mouth.

  He started to get in his car, then hesitated. “I’ll be here to pick him up for school at eight-thirty. Maybe we could go to breakfast after? I know I said I’d wait, but I don’t like things being left like this.”

  Glory bit her lip and nodded.

  Eric got in the Explorer and turned around. Glory watched him drive away, knowing her heart would break if he was actually driving out of her life.

  Tomorrow. Will I be any braver tomorrow than I am today?

  That night, Glory dreamed of the fire. She was fumbling in a smoke-filled room, feeling blindly for the way out. The smell of the smoke grew so strong, it was difficult to breathe. She heard the crackling flames. Lady was barking.

  Lady?

  Glory sat straight up in bed. Lady’s frantic barks were coming from the hall. The choking smoke was real. The crackle of fire, real.

  A tingle of stark terror shot through her body, and she froze.

  This can’t be happening! Not again!

  The image of funeral markers rose in her mind.

  Death. Fire was death.

  Granny and Scott!

  Glory’s heart slammed into overdrive and she sucked in a gulp of air that made her cough.

  She tried to shout a warning, but only sucked in more breath-stealing smoke. She sputtered and gasped.

  Think. Stop panicking and think!

  The smoke was thick at the ceiling. She rolled off the bed, taking her pillow with her. She ripped off the pillowcase and held it over her mouth and nose, then crawled toward the bedroom door.

  Lady ran up and down the stairs, barking her heart out.

  Granny’s bedroom was near the top of the stairs, toward the back of the house; Scott was with her.

  The tiny night-light at the top of the steps was somehow working. Smoke rolled in waves up the staircase ceiling.

  Glory still didn’t see flames. She crawled faster.

  Granny’s door was closed.

  Glory banged on it hard before she opened it. “Gran!” The single word set off a coughing fit.

  She covered her mouth again and crawled toward Gran’s bed.

  The smoke wasn’t quite as thick in here. Was the fire at the front of the house? If so, they’d have to get out fast; the bottom of the stairs was near the front door.

  Reaching up she grabbed her grandmother’s arm at the same moment that Granny sat up, gasping.

  Glory pulled her grandmother to the floor beside her. Then she urged her to move toward the door. “Go, Gran.” Glory coughed. “Stay low,” she rasped. “I’ll get Scott.”

  Last night Granny had pushed her full-size bed against the wall and put Scott on the wall side. Glory reached for him, but grabbed only empty air.

  She got on the bed, feeling under the covers in case he’d hidden near the foot. Nothing. She ran her hand in the small space between wall and mattress and still no Scott.

  Fear got a fresh hold on her.

  Frantically, she searched under the bed. Panic shook her good sense when he wasn’t there. When she pulled herself out from under the bed, Granny was still there.

  “Go! Follow Lady.” She pressed the pillowcase against Granny’s face.

  “Scott?” Granny was wheezing.

  “I’ll find him. The door was closed—he has to be in here. Go. I can’t carry you.”

  Just then, she heard a man calling from downstairs.

  “Up here!” Glory helped Granny toward the top of the stairs.

  Lady raced up and down, howling.

  Glory saw the dark shape of man heading up the steps. “Deputy Hawkins.” He identified himself. “Help’s on the way.”

  “Take Gran!”

  He scooped Granny into his arms. “Follow me, ma’am,” he said to Glory as he started down the stairs.

  Glory headed back into Granny’s bedroom.

  Calling Scott’s name was a waste of precious breath, so she crawled around the perimeter of the room; feeling more than looking for the little boy.

  She’d made it about halfway around when Lady shot past.

  Glory hurried along after the dog.

  Lady stuck her head behind an upholstered chair in the corner.

  Glory grabbed her and pulled her back out, shoving her toward the door, dived behind the chair.

  Scott was curled deep in the corner, holding his quilt over his face.

  Glory pulled him to her. “It’s okay.” She coughed and made sure that the quilt stayed over Scott’s mouth and nose.

  There was no way she could crawl and carry Scott too. She stood in a low crouch. Even so, the smoke was more dense than it had been on the floor.

  Scott began to cry, which made him cough. He bowed his back, making his body stiff and difficult to handle.

  “It’s okay.” She patted his back and mo
ved faster.

  The night-light was out. Glory felt along the wall for the stair opening.

  “Almost there.”

  Her knees nearly buckled when she saw the base of the staircase was in flames.

  She could hear the deputy calling from somewhere downstairs.

  She shouted, “Get out! Going out the window! The window!”

  Please let him get out of here! Don’t let him get hurt trying to get up here.

  Scott was choking. She tried to cover his mouth and nose, but he jerked his head away.

  She ran back to Granny’s bedroom and slammed the door on the billowing smoke.

  The window over the kitchen roof was open. Glory didn’t want to take a chance of putting Scott down to take out the screen, fearing he’d bolt and run.

  She held him tight in one arm, braced herself on the upholstered chair, and kicked at the screen. It ripped from the frame. She immediately stuck their heads out for a gulp of air.

  How was she going to get out on the roof with him? What if she couldn’t hold him and he fell?

  She glanced back toward the bedroom door.

  There was no other way.

  She drew their heads back inside and sat on the floor. Scott’s stiff legs kept him upright, his face even with hers. He’d choked enough that he’d thrown up on the front of his pjs and the quilt.

  “It’s okay, baby.”

  She wrenched the quilt from his grasp.

  He screamed.

  At least while he was screaming he was stick-straight. Glory wrapped the quilt around her back and brought the ends around front and tied them behind Scott’s back.

  Then she stood, held him steady with one hand, and balanced them as she crawled through the window onto the shingled roof. It was only one story, but steeply pitched. She scooted along on her backside until she reached the guttered edge.

  “Help! Back here! Help!” She paid for her shouts with a lung-tugging coughing fit.

  The deputy appeared below. “Is there a ladder in the garage?”

  “Just take the baby!” The knot in the quilt had drawn so tight she couldn’t get it untied. She wriggled it lower on Scott’s body until she could get him free. “I’ll lower him by the arms. You catch him.”

  The deputy stepped closer and raised his hands.

  “Don’t drop him!” she shouted.

  The slant of the roof prevented her from finding any leverage to prevent toppling over as she lowered Scott.

  She put one knee in the gutter, grabbed Scott by the forearms, leaned back, and eased him over the edge.

  He wailed louder.

  “A little more!” the deputy shouted.

  Glory heard a siren in the distance.

  She leaned closer to the gutter.

  Something snapped. The gutter fell away from under her knee. She let go of Scott before she tumbled off the roof, hoping the deputy would catch him.

  Her back hit a giant lilac bush, scraping her skin and tilting her to the side. She landed hard on the ground on her shoulder. White-hot pain shot across her shoulders and up her neck.

  She rolled onto her back, trying to regain the breath that had been knocked out of her lungs.

  Scott was screaming. Pain or fear?

  As soon as she could squeak, she rasped, “Scott? Scott?”

  The deputy knelt beside her, Scott in his arms. “He’s fine, ma’am. I caught him. Don’t move. Where are you hurt?”

  The sirens blared closer.

  “Can’t tell yet,” she wheezed.

  “Stay still,” he said, and put a hand on her shoulder to keep her down. “Help’s here.”

  Revolving red lights reflected in the trees overhead. “Gran?”

  “She’s a little woozy. I have her lying down in the back of my cruiser.”

  “Lady? Is she out?”

  “The dog? Haven’t seen her out here, but I’m sure she got out.”

  The puppies!

  There were shouts in front of the house. Booted feet pounded the ground and stopped behind the deputy, who immediately said, “Your son’s fine.”

  Eric, thank God. She wanted to shout to him, but all that came out was a raspy squeak.

  She heard Eric say something soft and calming to Scott. Then he told the deputy, “Take him around for some oxygen.” Then he was by her side.

  “Glory!” His hands were on the back of her neck, feeling the alignment of the bones.

  The image of him hovering over her in his fire gear transported her, ever so briefly, back to the night on Laurel Creek Road.

  But this time, she thought, almost giddy with relief, she had saved the child. God in Heaven, she hadn’t failed Scott. An incredible lightness bloomed in a place that had been dark and heavy for so long.

  She wanted to grab onto Eric, tell him the answer to his question, the question that had threatened to keep them apart; Scott had found a place in her heart, a special place that only he could fill.

  But now wasn’t the time.

  “I think I’m okay,” she said. “Is someone taking care of Gran?”

  “Paramedic.”

  Eric continued to check Glory, before he put an arm around her shoulders and eased her to a sitting position. “Take it slow. Are you dizzy at all?”

  “No.” She looked toward the house. “The puppies!” The back room appeared dark, no flames.

  He spoke into his radio. “Bring a hose around back.” Then he stood. “I’ll get them.”

  Glory forced herself to her feet. Her shoulder hurt like a son of a bitch, but she was whole. By the time she was upright, Eric was gone.

  A few seconds later, the window opened in the back room. Glory hurried to the sill.

  “It’s gonna suck the fire this way. We don’t have much time,” Eric said as he handed puppies out two at a time. Smoke was already drafting through the open window.

  “Lady?” Glory asked when he reappeared with the last two.

  “Right here biting my boot. Had to take the last pup out of her mouth. She’s next.” He disappeared momentarily, then lifted the dog through the window.

  Glory wasn’t sure her shoulder could take Lady’s forty pounds, but she braced herself and lowered the dog to the ground.

  “Now you!” Glory said.

  “I’m going back the way I came. Brady’s bringing a hose through the back.”

  “No!”

  He paused for a split second. “I know what I’m doing. Take care of Scott.” He pulled on his mask and was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  “ERIC!” GLORY STARED at the smoke that filled the window he had just left, wanting to crawl in after him. There was a cold knot of fear in her chest. She stared at the window as the black smoke boiled out into the night.

  Men shouted over the macabre background music created by the rumble of the pumper truck and the roar of the fire. The steady drone was punctuated by the squawk and crackle of communication devices. She moved toward the kitchen door, where the fire hose snaked into the dark house.

  A deep groan of timber preceded a crash. Orange embers rode the updraft into the dark sky.

  Glory tried to go in the kitchen door, but the choking smoke held her back. “Eric!” She ran to the front of the house.

  The porch roof had collapsed, along with the front wall of the house. The firemen in front battled the flames from the outside.

  She ran up to one of them. “Eric’s still inside!”

  The man put a hand on her shoulder and moved her out of the way as he shifted position with his hose.

  There was no way Eric was coming out the front. She ran to the rear again. Just as she rounded the corner, she saw two men stumble out the kitchen door. A third firefighter stood just outside, pulling the hose out of the house.

  Glory ran faster.

  The two men staggered a few feet away from the house, sat hard on the ground and pulled off their masks. The back of the coat nearest her said Wilson.

  She came to a sliding stop on her knees
beside Eric, her hands immediately going to his sooty, sweat-soaked face.

  He coughed and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m okay.” He started to get up, motioning to the man with the hose toward the front of the house.

  “Where are you going?” Panic rose in her voice.

  “Back to work.” Eric got up and followed the firefighter with the hose around the house.

  The other man got to his unsteady feet and was right behind Eric.

  Glory’s legs were shaking too much to move.

  The sun was coming up by the time the flames were out. Nothing remained of Granny’s house except the chimneys and the shell of the kitchen. The rest had collapsed into the basement. Charred black timbers jutted at odd angles out of the smoking rubble.

  Scott had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep in the backseat of the police cruiser. Glory sat next to her grandmother on the ground, arm wrapped tightly around Granny’s shoulders, watching the sooty smoke curl lazily into the awakening sky. It almost seemed peaceful after the power of the raging blaze.

  “Oh, Gran. I’m so sorry.” She squeezed tighter. “I know you and Pap lived here your entire marriage.”

  Granny patted a bony hand on Glory’s knee. “I still got what’s important. House ain’t nothin’ without family. House can be rebuilt.”

  “But your photos . . .”

  “Got ’em all in here.” Granny touched her chest. And although the words were strong, Glory saw the tears glistening in Granny’s eyes.

  As the rest of the firefighters reeled in the hoses and stowed equipment, Eric came and stood before them. He was filthy and sweaty and was the most beautiful sight Glory had ever laid eyes on.

  Then Glory saw the five-gallon gas can he held in his hand.

  “I don’t think it’s going to be difficult to determine the cause of this fire,” he said grimly.

  Glory’s stomach rolled, and she closed her eyes for a second. “Oh, my God . . .” She shuddered; Gran and Scott could have died. And it was all because of her.

  Eric said, “Whoever it was didn’t know a thing about disguising arson. This was sloppy beyond belief.”

  Glory looked directly at him. “Did Jill know Scott was out here?”