I wandered back to the barn in a blissful daze. Skimming up the ladder, I flung myself down in a patch of moonlight filtering through the window. My thoughts were a giddy kaleidoscope. They spun with hope when I thought of Abel, then fractured into dark shards when Miss Maeve’s treachery and worries for Lilah whirled by.
My attention came to rest on Abel’s tree-stump nightstand. A new candle and an open book sat on the rough wood surface. Curious to see what Abel had been reading, I found a match and lit the candle.
The page was open to a poem, “Eros Turanos.” I knew enough Latin to parse the title: “The Tyrant Love.”
It was a mournful piece about a woman who chooses to stay with an unworthy man. Their love, even after it had soured and caused nothing but pain, felt inescapable.
… like a stairway to the sea
Where down the blind are driven.
I closed the book and stared uneasily into the candle flame. The fire shuddered, as though blown by a sharp wind, leaning sideways for a long moment, then shooting back upright.
I blinked hard. Again, the flame tilted, this time stretching toward me. A third time it repeated its mad dance, sending shadows lurching into the corners, reaching for me before righting itself. Certain my eyes were playing tricks in the late hour, I leaned forward to blow it out.
With a roar, the fire shot up, exploding into a whirlwind of flames. I flung myself backward as it leapt for me, hungry and alive. A spark landed in my braid. Screaming, I beat it out. In an instant, rivers of burning wax began pouring down the candle sides. One landed on Abel’s book. The pages burst into flame.
A shower of sparks rained onto the straw-littered floor, igniting on contact. I snatched a quilt and flung it over the burning book, stomping to quell the blaze. The fire pounced like a hungry beast. I felt the flesh on the soles of my feet sear.
Shrieking, I leapt away as the inferno grew around me. My cries mixed with the loud crackle of flames. Fire forced me away from the opening in the floor that led to the ladder and safety. Sweat poured into my eyes. I blinked singed lashes and turned away from the unbearable heat.
Through black smoke, a small, unreachable window taunted me from far above. Darkness bloomed across my vision. Coughing, I sank to the floor.
Then a soft lowing carried over the crackling fire.
Edward.
I staggered upright and faced the firestorm. I wouldn’t lie down and wait for death, and I wouldn’t leave Edward shut in his stall on the ground floor to burn. I lowered my head and sprinted toward the wall of fire.
I burst through the other side and clattered down the ladder, gritting my teeth as the taut, burned skin on my feet tore. Hobbling to Edward’s stall, I flung open the gate. Without waiting to see if he followed, I fled toward the house.
Only a few feet away from the barn, I stumbled at the pain in my feet and crashed to the ground. “Fire! Fire in the barn!” Trembling, I crawled toward the house. The pain of my burns began to subside. Perhaps I was going into shock. The relief was too precious for me to care. Shaking from head to toe, I righted myself and staggered on, screaming for Big Tom and Hettie.
When I crashed into the kitchen, Hettie met me at the door. “How bad is it?” She shoved on work boots, her hair wild around her face. Behind her, Big Tom fastened the strap of his overalls, eyes wide with alarm.
“The whole loft is on fire,” I shouted, my voice cracking. Hettie pushed by, breaking into a run. I grabbed a metal pail and fumbled my way to the pump at the side of the house. Big Tom hurried to the kitchen garden to shovel more dirt into a half-full wheelbarrow. Our three-person fire brigade would never save the barn, but we had to try.
I heaved the brimming pail up, sloshing water down the front of my nightgown, and spun around, ready to run to the loft.
But the barn stood before us, whole and untouched, silhouetted against a calm, starry sky. Water washed over my bare feet as the pail slipped from my fingers.
Big Tom’s wheelbarrow squeaked to a stop. His questioning eyes roved over the barn. A few yards ahead, Hettie turned. The confusion in her thin face shifted to anger. “What’s the meaning of this?” She stabbed a finger at the barn. “Is this your idea of a joke?”
“I … Hettie, I would never do that. It was on fire, I swear.” I gripped my hair, panic and confusion warring within me. “I lit a candle, and it didn’t make sense, but the flame burned sideways. Then it shot straight up like someone poured gasoline on it. The whole loft was engulfed.” Hettie glanced at Big Tom, then hurried toward the barn.
The adrenaline coursing through my veins began to subside, leaving my insides quaking. Trembling, I followed Big Tom and Hettie into the barn. Edward peered at us through the open gate of his stall, mooing a greeting as we ascended the ladder to the loft.
We stepped onto the unburned hay and looked around. The candle sat atop the tree stump, its wick blackened. Abel’s poetry book lay beside it, unmarred. I gathered the pallet of quilts into my arms, looking for scorch marks that didn’t exist.
“I tried to smother the fire … my feet were burned,” I said. “There was smoke everywhere.” I gestured limply around me. “I had to run through flames to get out.” My voice came out wispy and frightened. “Didn’t I?”
Hettie watched me warily. “It must’ve been a dream. We all have those dreams that seem real from time to time.”
Big Tom nodded. “Sounds like a bad nightmare.”
A thin beam of light poked through the loft opening. “What’s going on?” Abel’s voice floated up from the ground floor. “I heard shouting and everyone was gone by the time I made it downstairs.”
“Hold on, we’re coming down,” Hettie called. We all moved wordlessly back to the ladder.
“What happened?” Abel asked, latching the stall door I’d opened for Edward. The fingers sticking out of his cast were wrapped around a flashlight.
“I thought the loft was on fire. But I was wrong.” I ran shaking hands over my face. They came away wet with tears, proof that my fear had been real, if nothing else. “It was so vivid … the smell of smoke and the sound of the fire. I could feel myself burning.” A cold sickness settled in my stomach. “It was the worst nightmare I’ve ever had.”
“You must’ve eaten something that disagreed with you. Why don’t you sleep on the sofa in the parlor tonight?” Hettie paused. “Abel will give you the flashlight to take to the loft whenever you come back.” She spoke with her usual briskness as she stepped out into the dew-silvered grass, Big Tom at her side.
But I’d seen the worry in her lined face, and felt the pity in Big Tom’s sad eyes. I knew their thoughts, because they were the same as mine. What if my father’s condition was hereditary? What if the delusions that plagued him had been passed on to his daughter?
“Let’s go,” Abel said, handing me the light. Gently, he steered us toward the door. Tremors still ran through me. Abel tightened his grip and dropped a soft kiss on my hair. “It was just a dream, Very. That’s all.”
“Just a dream,” I agreed. But in my head, the memory of my own deranged screams echoed over and over again.