by Lia Kane
It bugged me, yet again, that Victor had showed up right when he did. How had he known? I was pretty sure that the text message I tried to send to him and Whitney hadn’t gone through. It made sense that Dr. Miles would get a call in the middle of the night to alert him that his patients had been in a fire, but had Victor been called and awakened from his sleep as well?
Maybe Victor was one of those people who had police scanners in his house and stayed up all night listening to cops and dispatchers talking to each other about crimes that were underway all over town. Some people considered it quality entertainment.
Or was it possible that he had conveniently showed up when he did because he had been involved in the fire all along? Was all of his concern for us just a big show?
Victor and Kelly were… close, Agnes had said to me. What thoughts had passed through her head during that cryptic pause?
Then I remembered what Claudia had said about Kelly: She had the biggest crush in the world on Victor, but the feelings weren’t mutual.
I thought about the picture of Victor and Kelly that I had found in my desk; how dog-eared and worn it had been from repeated handling. Like Kelly had carried it around with her everywhere she went; like she simply had cherished the image of Victor by her side it a bit too much. How was it that they had been close, but not a couple?
And where was Kelly now? Why had she left Hope House so abruptly? Was it possible it had become too painful for her to be near Victor; to see him as often as she surely did in this small town, knowing she would never be able to have a romantic relationship with him?
If Kelly’s car was still in Blue Sky, then it likely meant that Kelly was too. Maybe she had been watching everything and everyone from a distance. Maybe she had seen me take her place at Hope House. Maybe she had seen me spending time with Victor, and had witnessed our budding relationship with her own eyes. Had Kelly snapped and decided that if she couldn’t have Victor, no one could? Did she set the fire to remove me from the picture?
And what about Alyssa? Was it possible that Kelly was responsible for the disappearance of Victor’s wife seven years ago?
Or was Alyssa still alive? Had she been the one watching from a distance? Was it possible that she had been the one who made Kelly disappear? Was she deeply deranged, still suffering from post-traumatic stress after all this time? Had she tried to kill me to punish Victor for wanting to move on with his life?
A chill passed through my body and stopped the racing thoughts.
I quickly finished my shower and dressed, willing myself to stay calm. The dots were connecting in my mind and I didn’t like the picture I was seeing. The only thing that I knew for certain was that any woman who got close to Victor Drake disappeared. I didn’t want to be next. My life – and the lives of Sara, Claudia and the children depended on it.
I stepped out of the bedroom to find Sarah and the four school-age kids huddled around the dining room table. The children were taking a spelling test on Holiday Inn stationery. Fresh from the shower themselves, their hair was still wet. Everyone was wearing new clothes.
“Good morning!” Sarah said to me from the head of the table. “Or afternoon, actually.”
“Good morning or afternoon actually, Miss Jerrika!” the four children repeated. Haley was the first to leap out of her seat, followed by the three boys. They rushed to me and we shared a group hug.
“Are all you guys doing okay today?” I asked.
“Yes ma’am,” they replied in unison.
“I had bad dreams about the fire,” Haley admitted.
“Well, thank goodness they were just dreams,” I said. “I’m so glad that all of you are alright.”
“Why was there a fire?” Jervonne asked.
“We don’t know yet,” I told him. “The police are trying to figure it out.”
“Is the house all gone?” Jermaine asked.
“Yes, honey, it is.”
The four children exchanged looks of upset.
“Where are we going to live now, Miss Jerrika?” asked Jonathan.
“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter right now. The important thing is that we all survived, and we’ve still got each other.”
“Can’t we stay here? I like it a lot,” said Haley.
“Me too.” Jonathan exchanged a sly grin with her, then wagged his index finger, beckoning me to come closer. “I have a secret,” he said, cupping his hand over my ear, “when Miss Sarah was in the shower, we jumped on the beds and it was GREAT.”
I smiled. “You guys are a mess.”
Sarah interrupted. “Let’s let Miss Jerrika go about her business, and all of you come back to the table. We need to get back to our spelling test.”
The four children giggled as they took their seats. Sarah called out a word and they hunched over to record it, Holiday Inn pens scratching away on their papers.
“Did you get some good rest?” she asked me while they wrote.
“I did, thanks. Where did the clothes come from?”
“As Victor was leaving this morning, he asked us what we needed. Claudia and I made a list of clothing and items for the children, like diapers, bottles and the like. He left, and a couple of hours later, a bellman was knocking on our door to deliver a cart full of stuff.”
“Wow,” I shook my head with disbelief. “Very generous of him. Will we be able to salvage anything from the house?”
“I don’t think so. Anything that wasn’t burned to ash is probably so smoke-damaged that it’s beyond repair. Even our cars are a mess. The heat from the fire melted the tires and damaged the windshields, so they aren’t drivable right now.”
“Swell.”
“All of that can be replaced. The important thing is, we’re alive,” said Sarah. “That’s all that matters.” She returned her attention to the children and called out another spelling word.
Had I not known any better, no one could have convinced me that we had just been pulled out of a burning building less than 24 hours ago. It didn’t seem possible. These kids were supposed to be sickly – chronically malnourished and anemic – and yet there they sat, bright-eyed and happy to back in school after a few hours’ sleep in semi-comfortable hotel beds. Their resiliency amazed me. I hoped that the babies had bounced back from the trauma of the fire just as quickly.
“Sorry to interrupt once more,” I apologized. “How is Claudia? Does she need any help with the babies?”
“She’s got it under control,” said Sarah. “The little ones are down for naps again.”
Life was right back to normal, it seemed. Once again, I couldn’t help but wonder what, if anything, I was supposed to be doing. Until I could meet with Agnes, I was stuck on the sidelines as an observer to all of this craziness around me.
In the meantime, I needed something to do. I made a mental list: First, get a new mobile phone. Then, well… who knew what came next? Maybe I would call Agnes and ask for the proper protocols for an executive director to follow after her orphanage burns to the ground. Or maybe I would call Whitney and see if she was ready to patch things up between us.
Maybe I would call Victor and thank him for everything he had done to help.
Or maybe not. I felt like I needed to distance myself from him until things settled down. My priorities, I knew, were to keep myself, my colleagues and the children safe. And Naz as well.
“Sarah,” I interrupted the spelling test again when I realized that my teenage tagalong was nowhere in sight. “Where’s Naz? The girl who spent the night on the sofa?”
Sarah shrugged. “She wasn’t here when I woke up this morning.”
“Great,” I muttered, realizing how foolish it had been for me to accept responsibility for a girl I barely knew. Tracking her down would be the next item on my mental to-do list. I stepped out of the suite and made my way to the lobby, stopping by the front desk to ask if they had spotted a teenager on the move. No such luck.
I left the Holiday Inn and started down an adjacent street towa
rd Radio Shack. The sign on the door declared that the store was an authorized retailer for my mobile phone carrier, so I went inside and explained my situation to a store associate. As it turned out, a valid form of identification was required to access a cell phone account and make any changes, including replacing a lost phone. Every form of I.D. that I owned was now a pile of ashes back at Hope House. The store associate apologized for not being able to help me and suggested a cheap prepaid phone as a solution for the interim. I paid for one with the cash that Victor had left for me and activated it in the store.
After I left Radio Shack, I kept walking. The sky was overcast, hiding the sun behind thick clouds, which made it comfortable for me to be outdoors. Although I had no particular destination in mind, I needed the fresh air and it felt good to stretch my legs. I dialed Agnes while I walked.
“Hello?” She answered.
“Agnes, it’s Jerrika.”
“Jerrika! Oh my stars! Are you alright, dear?” All of her words spilled out in a jumbled rush. “I got a call this morning from the mayor’s office about the fire. I’m just sickened to hear about it, but I’m so thankful that everyone was saved.”
“Thanks Agnes. I need to know what to do next. We can’t stay at the Holiday Inn forever. Where do we go from here?”
“Working on that now. I’ve called everyone on the board of directors and we’re trying to put a plan together.”
“I see,” I said. “Just curious, who else is on the board, other than you and Janice and Geneva?”
“A few other community members. Susan Ricardelli, a local civil rights attorney; John Marshburn, a retired teacher; Dr. Miles, the VAM specialist –”
“He took wonderful care of us last night, by the way,” I interjected.
“He’s a godsend. I wish we could keep him here forever.”
“Is he leaving Blue Sky?”
“Eventually,” said Agnes. “He’s here on some kind of loan forgiveness program for doctors. Since Blue Sky was a medically underserved community and was in desperate need of a VAM specialist, Dr. Miles agreed to work here, in exchange for the government paying off all of his student loans. He’s been here for four years, but only has to stick around for another three.”
“What will we do after he leaves?”
“Who knows,” she sighed. “Maybe the government will send us some other newly graduated doctor who needs his loans paid off as well. Unless we can talk Dr. Miles into staying. You think it’s possible?”
“One could only hope.”
“Well, speaking of Dr. Miles, I just got off the phone with him. He mentioned that he’ll be making a house call to your hotel this afternoon to check on all of you.”
“Alright,” I said. “I guess I need to get back to the Holiday Inn and wait for him to arrive.”
“No rush, dear. His clinic is open until five o’clock, so it won’t be until after he closes down for the day.”
“You mean he got up in the middle of the night to take care of all of us in the emergency room, then went into his office to put in a full day of work?”
“Such is the life of a doctor. No rest for the weary.”
“How does it he do it?”
“I have no idea. I guess he’s just used to it. It’s all part of the job.”
“Oh, speaking of jobs, are we still on for my orientation on Monday morning?”
Agnes sighed. “I think the higher priority right now will be getting all of you relocated to a long-term living arrangement. Let’s reschedule once that’s taken care of.”
“Agnes?”
“Yes.”
“I have no idea what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“You’re already doing it, Jerrika. You’re taking charge and being a leader whether you realize it or not. All of the formal elements of the job will fall into place once we recover from the fire. I’ll be in touch soon again. Bye now.”
I shook my head with frustration and pocketed the cheap cell phone. Looking up, I saw that I had walked two blocks toward the historic district and was standing in front of the public library. I had some time to kill, and this was as good a place as any.
I pushed through the revolving door and followed the signage toward the computer lab, then took a seat at one of the empty terminals. It had been a while since I had checked my e-mail, so I logged in. I had fifteen new messages, all of which were spam. No word from Whitney. I logged out and closed the browser, which returned me to the home screen. I noticed that there was a link to the Blue Sky Daily, our local newspaper, so I clicked on it to bring it full screen. The front page featured a write up about the ‘Rebirth of a Small Town’ event at the Arts Center from the night before, with pictures of local civic leaders, businesspeople and other small town celebs smiling for the camera. I recognized Victor in one of the photos and clicked to enlarge it. He had his hand on my back and was leaning in toward me. Both of us were smiling in the photo. We looked happy.
We looked like a couple.
I clicked on the links for ‘local news’ and ‘crime’ and found one brief write-up about the fire.
Structure fire extinguished at Oak Street residence
Blue Sky Fire Department Station #12 dispatched two trucks to a residential fire on Oak Street around 2 am Saturday morning. Police and EMS were also dispatched to the scene. Firefighters rescued all eleven individuals who were in the building. All were transported to Blue Sky Regional Hospital and treated for minor injuries. An investigation into the cause of the fire is underway among local authorities.
“That’s it?” I blurted out loud.
A few people at the terminals around mine turned to give me dirty looks. Someone shushed me.
The story totaled five lines. There was no mention that the building was the Hope House orphanage. No mention of the fire marshal’s suspicion that the fire was intentionally set. There was nothing about Naz’s heroic call to 911, nor anything about the reported sighting of Kelly’s car in the woods nearby. It didn’t seem right.
Then again, Victor had promised he would do his best to keep everything quiet in the media. Maybe it really was for the best; maybe the less public attention our near-death experience was given, the better. I wondered if the person who set the fire had read the same five lines that I’d just read, and was troubled to learn that the plan to burn up the orphanage and take us out of this world in one fell swoop had failed.
I noticed a link in the upper right corner of the screen that read ‘archives.’ I clicked on it and was redirected to a screen that boasted the past 10 years’ worth of the Blue Sky Daily newspapers at my fingertips. In the search field, I entered ‘Kelly Holt.’
Sixteen entries were returned. I clicked through each one and followed it to the stories in which her name was mentioned. Half of them were news stories in which someone with the name ‘Kelly’ had been mentioned in the same article as someone with the surname ‘Holt,’ and had nothing to do with my predecessor. The other half produced legitimate hits on Kelly Holt, so I skimmed through the stories in hopes of finding out more about her. It appeared that Kelly had been a low-key socialite, popping up at random events around town – usually whichever ones Victor had also been attending.
The stories mentioned her involvement in local happenings, like Junior League activities, chamber of commerce banquets and a holiday party here and there. I spotted the same picture of her with Victor that she had kept in her office. The caption placed them at some sort of after-hours wine tasting downtown. The headline mentioned that the event was to raise funds for the town beautification project.
I did find one article about the Blue Sky Community Leader award she had received. It gave a brief bio on her, stating that she was originally from Norfolk, Virginia. She had moved to Blue Sky to take a job as a caseworker at the county’s Department of Social Services, where her caseload included medically fragile children, which I knew meant VAM-Positive kids. Then she took the executive director job at Hope House when it was officially chartered as
a nonprofit. Although Kelly’s title had been mentioned a few times in all of the press about her, little to nothing had been said about her actual work with the orphanage.
Beyond that, my searching turned up no news stories written specifically about Hope House, nor about the kids residing there, and absolutely no mention of anything related to the VAM disease.
Weird.
I clicked in the search field again and typed another name: Alyssa Drake.
More than a hundred hits this time. I started clicking through the older stories, reading about her similar involvement in Junior League activities and other social happenings in Blue Sky. I found a picture of her and Victor together. Alyssa had been a youthful-looking blonde with a perfect, porcelain face and a supermodel body. Together, she and Victor had made a stunning pair. They could have been the Kennedys of my generation. They would have made beautiful children together.
I continued glancing through the articles until I found the one about their car accident. It listed the details that Victor had shared with me; the wreck had been a head-on collision with a drunk driver at fault. It mentioned that Alyssa was spared from serious harm, but Victor was critically injured.
A few more of the news stories covered Victor’s progress during his hospital stay. I clicked on one and saw a picture of him sitting up in his hospital bed, giving a thumbs-up sign. Two female caregivers in blue scrubs stood on either side of his bed, touching his shoulders supportively and smiling for the camera. I almost skipped ahead to the next news story, but stopped myself. At a second glance, I realized that I knew both of the women. The nurse to the right of him was Lucy. The other was the receptionist from Dr. Miles’ office. I couldn’t remember her name at first. The caption below the photo read: