CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

I jumped up and threw open my door. Billows of black smoke filled the hall. Where was it coming from? I hadn't cooked anything last night. The quilt was still around my shoulders. I pulled a corner over my mouth and took a step down closer to the smoke.

Mixed with the shrieking of the alarm was a flapping sound. That was when I noticed the flames at the bottom of the stairs. There was an actual fire.

Coughing and trying to take in small breaths, I ran to the top of the stairs. There had to be a way down. I couldn't just stay here. It was hard to see anything though. There were no lights on down there, and the smoke burned my eyes. What if I only went down several steps and then jumped over the side of the banister? I couldn't tell where the fire was though. Maybe the TV short-circuited, and that's how it began. And even from this distance, the fire's heat tickled my toes.

I stepped back and coughed and coughed until I gagged. I headed into the bathroom and slammed the door behind me. I took the blanket off my face and flipped the light switch. I grabbed the towel off the rod and soaked it in cold water. My mind raced with possible scenarios, but none of them made much sense. I needed to get downstairs and out of the house, and I couldn't figure out how.

My phone was downstairs. One of the few times I remembered where it was located, and I still couldn't get to it. Had the neighbors noticed the flames? Surely some of this smoke had gotten outside too. I wasn't so certain of that though. I had checked the house earlier when I'd heard that noise. All of the windows were shut and locked.

I squeezed the towel as best as I could and pressed it to my nose and mouth. I considered doing the same with the quilt, to protect my body, but there was no time. This wasn't like how I'd seen it in the movies. My hands shook, my body trembled, and my throat was already dry and felt sore. I needed to get out now.

I opened the door and took a step back. It seemed as if the smoke had gotten thicker, but I wasn't sure. I walked to the top of the stairs again and saw that the flames had definitely risen. They now reached the fourth or fifth step, and tendrils of orange and yellow blaze trailed up the wall. There was no way to get around it without getting singed.

I ran into my room, shut the door, and leaned against it. Tears fell down my cheeks. It momentarily relieved the stinging but only made me feel weaker. I slid to the floor and cried.

Smoke drifted beneath the door, danced over the fingers of my left hand. I pulled the quilt off my shoulders and rammed it beneath the door as much as I could. It wouldn't be long before it didn't matter though.

Wait. Why was I giving up? That wasn't me. When life gave me lemons, I made lemon cupcakes. I was a fighter, not a quitter.

I struggled to my feet and glanced around my room. It was dark, but I hadn't lowered the blinds all the way, and the moon shone softly inside. The window. I laughed and then coughed and gagged but still laughed. Of course! I was an idiot.

I ran to my window, yanked it open, and took one glance back. Lying over my light-blue armchair was the pink dress that had belonged to three generations of Templeton-slash-Spencer women. It may have been dumb, but I couldn't lose it. I snatched it and crawled onto the rooftop. My favorite place. The one I used to sneak out of the house from. Except it had been years since I'd thrown myself at a tree.

The flames were not only visible from the outside of the house but they climbed the siding like ivy. My heart sank. There wasn't time to dwell on structural damage, but I knew the house would be destroyed by the time this was over. I just hoped I wouldn't be too.

I reached the edge of the roof closest to the tree and stared at it and the ground. There was no way I was going to make that leap. I may have been fit, but I wasn't as agile or as stupid as when I was sixteen. What was wrong with just sitting up here until the fire trucks showed up? Someone had to have called 9-1-1 by now.

It was hard to hear much aside from the flames and alarm. I feared that ringing would be with me forever. I coughed and gagged and spit. If I had a forever. The flames raged on as I contemplated the tree again. It was only a matter of time before they reached my spot. I knew I couldn't wait. I had to save myself. I thought of Grams, Amber, Uncle Doug, Aunt Bernie, Jared, and Tara. Even Max and Will. All the people in my life whom I didn't want to lose, whom I wanted to see again.

I rolled the dress into a ball and threw it as far as I could. It flew through the air for half a second, and then it flitted to the ground. I squatted on the balls of my toes and reached out with my left arm. I was miles away from the nearest branch. Or so it felt. Maybe I should've put on my heels. Then I would've felt closer. Why wasn't I hearing sirens? Was everyone in this neighborhood deaf?

The flames turned and angled themselves toward me. They leapt onto the far edge of the roof and moved toward me with precision. I'd heard that fire was alive, but this felt personal. I would've laughed at that absurdity if my chest wasn't heavy and didn't feel like it was about to crack open.

I let the towel go and watched it fall to the ground below. Hopefully, I'd make as graceful of a landing. With both arms outstretched and thoughts of chocolate in mind, because I needed something delicious to distract me, I jumped.

I wished I could've said the flight was magnificent and I felt like a bird soaring through the wind. But I couldn't. While in midair, I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed I'd make it, prayed I wouldn't gouge out an eye on a branch. The entire time, gravity pulled at me. My heart felt like it was in my feet, and all I wanted to do was scream and cry.

Suddenly my body hit something. I opened my eyes and stared at bark. That was better than grass or being dead. The branch I aimed for was to my right, and I realized I was pressed up against the trunk of the tree. And I was slipping.

Oh God!

I reached for the branch, but my fingertips grazed it as I slipped toward the ground. Before I had time to see my life flash before me, my butt and then my back hit the ground with extreme force. I lay there, staring up at the tree that metaphorically saved my life in high school and literally had done so just now. I tried to chuckle, but the burning in my chest was too deep for more than a cough.

I could see the flames from the corner of my eyes. I was afraid to turn my head, just in case I'd severed my spine or something equally horrible and debilitating. I was alive though, and that's what mattered.

That was when I heard shouting. Someone finally had noticed. I may have blacked out for a moment—I wasn't sure, but when I opened my eyes again, someone knelt over me.

"Hey, Riley, are you all right?"

Sirens blared in the background. Oh thank goodness.

"Riley, can you hear me?" the person asked.

I stared at him, but it took me a few seconds to take in the bronzed face, the shockingly white teeth, and the blond hair that never moved on its own.

Duncan Pickles.

Gosh, I loved the press.

 

*   *   *

 

As it turned out, I hadn't done any damage to myself after all. The fire trucks and paramedics arrived and carefully neck-braced me and put me on a stiff board before loading me into the ambulance. I listened to more shrieking sirens as they raced to the hospital in the next town. By the time I was wheeled into the emergency department, I assumed I'd gone deaf. I barely heard the voices and commands from the nurses and doctors, even though I saw their mouths moving. And I still heard that alarm ringing in my ears.

Eventually, my hearing returned, the ringing stopped, and I was left with nothing more than some smoke inhalation. The docs wanted to keep me overnight, but the last place I wanted to stay was in a hospital. Not that I had any place else to go exactly. But I wanted to see the house, to know what happened, and I hated just lying there feeling helpless.

That was when two wonderful, friendly, albeit momentarily sad and scared, faces appeared in my doorway.

Tara threw herself on me. Her forehead hit my chest, causing me to choke and cough more. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. Did I break you?"

I tried to laugh, but it only caused more coughing. I shook my head and smiled instead.

Tara sniffled, and Jared stepped over to us. He grabbed my fingers and gave a light squeeze. I expected a reassuring smile, but he looked horrible. His eyes were red, and his mouth tugged downward. He brushed at a tear with his other hand, and my heart swelled. Considering it already hurt like hell, that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Tara looked from me to Jared and then carefully laid her head on my stomach and wrapped her arms around me as best as she could, considering I was lying on my back. "I was so worried. Duncan said he called 9-1-1 and tried to get inside but couldn't. Then when he went toward the back to see if he could jimmy a window or door, and he saw something fall from the sky. It was you."

Duncan. That was right. He had been there after I landed. I needed to bake him something warm and delicious, like my Death by Mocha Brownies. No one in their right mind had ever resisted them. I believed it was because they were made with dark cocoa powder and coffee.

Death.

I almost died in the fire. I stared at my friends. It was too soon to leave them behind.

"So I've canceled all of my classes and am going to hang with you until they release you." Tara stood up and then sat on the edge of the bed against my leg.

"I'm going to call the school as soon as I know you're okay," Jared said, still holding on to my fingers.

"No. You just started at your job. Don't ask for time off just yet. I'll be fine with Tara." I smiled at him, wanting to see his face lighten up. The sad sullen look made me want to cry.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Absolutely."

"Are you hungry?" Tara jumped off the bed and looked like she'd go hunt down anything I wanted. "Oh, you probably can't eat much, huh?"

"How about ice cream?" Jared asked, and one side of his mouth lifted.

Score.

I giggled, but it hurt so much I stopped, grimaced, and swallowed hard. I was grateful they were trying to cheer me up, but I had so many questions. Plus, all of these horrible thoughts kept circling my mind, like what if I hadn't gotten out in time, and what if I hadn't made the jump? What if…

"Grams," I whispered.

"I called her," Jared said. "She's on her way back."

Good, but that wasn't what I'd meant. It was hard getting out the words in a normal pace though. I tried again, stopping and taking breaks between syllables. "If she'd been home, she would've died."

Her room was above the stairs at the front of the house.

Tara gasped and dabbed at the corners of her puffy eyes with the sleeve of her light sweater. "Well, there's no sense in thinking like that. She wasn't there, and luckily, you still have the agility of a cat. Maybe all that bike riding and skating around town isn't so bad after all." She wagged her finger. "But it's still dangerous at night, and when you're out of here and back to your old self, I'll forget this conversation."

Jared finally fully smiled. I did too. He lifted my hand and kissed my fingers. "Don't ever scare us like that again."

I cocked an eyebrow. Like it had been my doing? "What started it?" I asked.

They exchanged a meaningful glance. Uh-oh, this wasn't going to be good.

"I told the fire marshal you don't usually light candles and you're a very careful cook," Tara said, as if I was blaming myself. I wasn't.

"He isn't certain yet," Jared answered. "But he said it looks deliberate. There was gasoline spilled on the ground outside."

"Outside?" I asked.

Jared nodded. "It looks like someone tossed gas on the side of the house and lit it."

So it hadn't started inside. Was that sound I'd heard earlier someone getting ready to start the fire? Maybe they'd hit the wall of the house by accident. This meant it was on purpose. Perhaps my snooping hit too close to home for someone, and whoever it was wanted me out of the way.

The idea that someone wanted me dead gripped my body. Chills started in my neck and arms and soon spread to my torso. I pulled the thin blanket over me higher.

"It was started at the base of the stairs," Tara said. "As if they…" Her words trailed off.

"Didn't want me to make it down and out," I finished for her.

 

*   *   *

 

A creaking sound pulled me from sleep. I opened my eyes and stared at the unfamiliar bedside table and lamp. My heart skipped a beat, and my pulse raced. Where was I?

"Hey," said a voice, soft and gentle. "Are you asleep?"

It was Tara, and this was her room. I took a deep breath and sat up. I rubbed my face with my hands. "Yeah. What time is it?"

The shades were down, and the room was dim, but I could tell it was bright outside. The fogginess in my brain continued to slip away the longer I was awake.

"Almost eleven. And you have visitors. Amber and Bernie are in the kitchen."

"Okay, I'll be there in a minute."

She shut the door behind her, and I threw the covers off of me.

The doctors had finally released me the day before, late in the evening. Tara had taken me back to her apartment, and I'd crashed. She'd been gracious enough to let me sleep in her bed, while she took her couch.

Grams had arrived back from Seattle in the afternoon. She'd spent the rest of the day at the hospital with Tara and me. I refused to let Jared come in. I couldn't take the look of fear in his eyes. I wanted to feel as normal as possible. Grams had stayed at Uncle Doug's last night.

Tara's apartment had carpet, but it was thin, and coldness seeped through. I pulled on a pair of socks and pushed my arms into the hoodie she had thrown across the end of her bed. I glanced down at the T-shirt and sweatpants she'd lent me last night. It hit me that I didn't have any clothes, and I wasn't sure what happened to the pink dress. All my beautiful retro skirts and dresses. All those polka dots. Would any of it be salvageable?

I opened the bedroom door and smelled coffee. Oh thank the heavens. I stepped out and headed to the kitchen. Tara sat on a counter by the fridge, while Grams, Aunt Bernie, and Amber sat at her kitchen table. Tara's apartment was barely big enough for two people, let alone five.

They all stood as I entered the room. It was a bit unnerving. Tara hopped down. "Want some coffee?"

Heck yes. I just smiled because talking still hurt some.

She went about making me a mug of the luscious stuff with half-and-half and sugar, just the way I liked it.

Grams stepped aside and motioned for me to take her seat. "Do you want breakfast, dear?" She opened the fridge door, probably looking for the usual fare—eggs, bacon, butter, something else she could whip up. But I'd bet she hadn't expected the inside of Tara's fridge to be filled with alcohol and condiments.

I shook my head and sat down. "I'm not hungry." Truth was, my stomach had grumbled and growled since yesterday, but unless it was liquids or ice cream, I didn't want to try swallowing.

Tara set my mug down and returned to her counter.

Aunt Bernie patted the top of my hand. "I was so scared, Riley. We all were." She glanced to Amber, who nodded, and then back to me. Worry lined her face. It made me feel worse about sneaking into her house the other night. "As soon as you're feeling better, we'll do a reading. And I know a woman who does chakra cleanings. You should get one."

I didn't know anything about chakras yet.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Amber asked. She hadn't rolled her eyes to what Aunt Bernie said. She must've really been worried about me.

I nodded and smiled, not wanting them to worry. Then I took a long sip of the coffee and nearly purred as it warmed up my throat.

"How's the house?" Aunt Bernie asked.

I stared at Grams, wide eyed. Did she know? Had she been by yet?

She shook her head. "I rented a storage unit for anything salvageable and sent some guys I know to collect everything, but I haven't seen it yet. I've been waiting for Riley. Figured we'd do it together."

I grinned. Yes, I wanted to see.

"If you two need anything at all, you let us know," Aunt Bernie said. "Doug sends his love and says he'll be back home as soon as he can."

Uncle Doug had left on another road trip the morning before the fire, according to what Grams had told me last night.

"And you can stay with us as long as you need, Cinnamon." Aunt Bernie had always called her mother-in-law by her first name. Grams had insisted. "You too, Riley. You're both welcome."

I appreciated it, but I wanted to stay with Tara. Hopefully my BFF wouldn't be throwing me out on the street anytime soon. Although I had every intention of sleeping on her couch tonight.

After Aunt Bernie and Amber left, Grams and I piled into Tara's car and drove to our home. As Tara turned onto the block, my body tensed. I was terrified at what we'd find. She parked in front of the house, and I sucked in a breath.

We all got out of the car and stood in the front yard.

From the angle of the driveway, everything looked normal, but as soon as you stepped around the other side, you saw the damage. Shoot, you saw the inside of the house.

The outside wall of the staircase was gone. Only the top two or three steps were still there, and you could clearly see the door to my room from the sidewalk. I circled around more, to get a better view. The living room and the back part of the kitchen were still intact—just barely—and the bathroom and spare bedroom upstairs seemed fine. My closet and all of my beautiful clothes were gone, as was the closet beneath the stairs. Which meant our holiday decorations, the old crap we hadn't wanted to part with yet, and all of Mom and Dad's things were also destroyed.

I held back a sob. I couldn't tell if the flames had licked the television too, even though it still stood erect. Were the home movies disintegrated as well?

I thought of the pink dress and ran toward the backyard.

"What are you doing?" Tara asked.

Her footsteps and Grams' sounded behind me.

I didn't answer or stop until I was closer to the tree. Down by the side of the house was our blanket. It was drenched. It didn't matter. I turned and saw the dress still in the resemblance of a ball. I picked it up, shook it out, and cried happy tears. It was okay, but we'd still lost most everything else.

Grams and Tara joined me and each put an arm around my shoulders. Tara laid her head against mine.

"They're just things," Grams said, but her voice was tight. It was obvious she was trying not to cry. And since she wasn't usually a crier, it only made me feel more helpless and sad.

Tara nodded. "Right. The important thing is you're both safe."

I tried to remember that, but I kept thinking of Mom and Dad and how they were truly gone now. Yes, they'd been gone for years, but I'd still had their most precious items. I wasn't sure if my memories alone were enough. But if it hadn't been for Duncan Pickles, the whole house may have been scorched too. I was very grateful for that.

One thing was for sure, I didn't care how angry, upset, or scared I made the arsonist. Whoever did this was going to pay. I'd make sure of it.