Soul Blaze

Soul Blaze
The Soul Trilogy #2
Soul Blaze
First Edition 2014
Copyright © Aprille Legacy
The moral right of the author has been asserted
ISBN 13: 9781490985879
ISBN: 1490985875
Front cover image by Brooklens Photography
Front cover model: Skye Foster
Cover design by E.J Duykers and R.A Dutton

T
his is a work offiction.Allcharacters are fictitious.
Any resemblance toanypersons livingor deceased is
coincidental.

For Eli, Lucy, Eric and Sonya.
Never once abandoned by your endless support.

~Chapter One~
There are few things more disturbing than waking up
to your hysterical mother.

I’d been awake for a little while, watching the sun pool
into my room. It was as I swung my legs out of bed to go
downstairs that I stepped on the one creaky floorboard,
and suddenly my room was invaded by a whirlwind of
tears and kisses.

“Mum,” I said, trying desperately to pull away from her
embrace. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” she repeated tearfully, and I thought I
almost saw her smile. “Oh, Rose, my poor darling.”

She pulled me to her again, and as my face was pressed
into her shoulder, I was sure that we’d suffered a family
tragedy.

“What’s going on?” I demanded, now wrestling my way
free of her grasp. “Who’s died?”
That wasn’t the right thing to say. She leant away from
me, heaving in air as she sobbed.
“Oh God,” I paled. “It’s Grandma, isn’t it? Grandma’s
heart?”
“It’s not Grandma!” she shouted through her tears. “It’s
you!”
“Me?” I’d never been more confused. “But I’m not dead”

“Yes, well I know that now,” she said, sitting on the
edge of my bed, tears still sliding down her cheeks. “But I
was starting to think-”

“Why?” I asked. She seemed to be calming down now.
“Why would you think I was dead?”

“Because,” she took a deep breath, and my stomach
plummeted. “Because it’s been a year since anyone has
seen you.”

My breath caught in my chest. The birds in the tree
outside my window trilled and took flight. Finally I
managed to croak:

“A year?”

She nodded, and I suddenly noticed that she had my
left hand – along with the splint on my wrist - sandwiched
in hers.

“What happened to arm?” was the next thought that I
managed to enunciate.
“We don’t know,” she said, looking into my eyes.
“When you were found on the river bank-”
“- the river bank?”
More desperate nods. I think she was trying to get
everything out as fast as she could.

“Yes. When they found you, your wrist was already
splinted. The hospital patched you up with a new one, but
they don’t know what happened to break your wrist.”

“Okay,” I found myself looking at the carpet on my
floor. There was a conspicuous amount of dust on it. I
suppose after a year Mum must’ve given up any hope of
me coming home. “Shouldn’t I be at the hospital or
something?”

“Doctor Fortescue checked you out when you were
brought back here. They’d like you to be brought in
though.”

I wasn’t looking forward to that.
“Sweetheart?”
I looked up into my mother’s eyes.
“Where were you?”
I opened my mouth to answer, and then realised there
was nothing there. No flashes, no snippets of conversation.
“I don’t know,” I said honestly, and her face fell. “I’m
sorry... there’s nothing there at all.”

“What is so awful that you can’t tell me?” her eyes
filled with tears again and I could see myself reflected in
them, my face older and thinner than last time I could
remember.

Already I was a stranger to her.
“If I could remember, I’d tell you,” I tried to reassure
her. “I’m hungry and I need a shower.”

“Alright,” she relented, but she was still upset enough
that my heart twisted to look at her. “But then we’re going
to the hospital.”

“I’m not sick,” I protested as she got up off my bed and
made her way to the door.
She stopped in the doorway and looked back at me.

“Then why have you lost a year of your memory?” she
asked slowly, and left before I could even begin to think of
a reply.

I stood in the shower for a long time, making sure my
splint didn’t get wet. I washed my hair with one hand
absent-mindedly, searching my memory for something,
anything to help me remember the events of the past year.
There was nothing though, and by the time my hair was
fruity fresh and steam was beginning to clog the small
bathroom, I was close to tears of frustration. I dried myself
awkwardly and dressed in jeans and my favourite green
hoodie.

As I reached for my beanie on my dresser, I noticed my
shirt was a little tight. Had it shrunk? No, certainly not. It
hadn’t been washed in a year – the musty dust smell
coming from it testified to that fact and made me wrinkle
my nose. Had my boobs gotten bigger? It wasn’t tighter in
my chest though, it was around my arms that it pinched.

I shrugged – with difficulty – and then wandered
downstairs into the kitchen to look for food. That one stair
still creaked, that shelf on the shoe stand by the door was
still broken. The rug in front of the front door was still
frayed on the left and there was still a big cobweb in the
corner of the window to the right of the door.

My house hadn’t changed, but I had.

I still remembered the kitchen fire, but with difficulty,
as though I’d only dreamt it. I’d been cooking steak...
right? Or schnitzel?

My stomach growled at the thought of chicken
schnitzel slathered with gravy. There was no such luck to
be had in the bare pantry, and I had to settle with some
stale rice cakes and Vegemite (which defied age and time
by never going off).

I didn’t want to ask Mum why the cupboard was bare. I
didn’t want to hear that she’d lost her job, or that she’d
become anorexic.

“I usually just got take-away,” she said, appearing in the
archway between the kitchen and the living room. “Since
I had no one else to cook for.”

She could still read me like a book then.
“So I’m the only reason you’re healthy then?” I asked,
attempting to make her smile.
One flickered and then died out.
“You were,” she said, and left the room, pulling her
phone out of her pocket.

I felt awful, and not just because the rice cake had been
older than I thought. She didn’t believe that I was telling
the truth.

In her defence, I used to lie a lot. When I was a kid, I
got my mouth rinsed out with soap a few times for being a
compulsive liar. Not the brightest one either, considering
it was only Mum and I living here, and I’d lie about things
like ‘who drank the last of the water in the jug and didn’t
fill it up?’ or ‘who put Glad-wrap on the toilet?’ That one
had gone horribly wrong when I’d forgotten than I’d put it
on there.

“Okay. Thanks, Dave,” I heard her say in the living
room. “I’ll bring her in now.” Her mobile beeped as she
cut off the call.

“Put your shoes on!” she called to me, already heading
for the entrance hall. “I’m taking you down there now.”

I groaned, just quietly enough that she couldn’t hear. I
didn’t want to be poked and prodded at. But I’d do it in
the hope that I could reconcile my relationship with the
only person who had ever mattered in my life.

~
“Just roll your sleeve up for me, love,” Doctor Fortescue
said to me, holding a Velcro thing. “Just going to take your
blood pressure.”

The pad inflated and squeezed my arm. Doc Fortescue
watched the little dial for a second and then let it down
and made a note on his computer.

The only reason my blood pressure would be high
would be if my mother was standing in the corner of the
room, her arms crossed and nostrils flared like she did
when she was angry or stressed about something.

Ah right. There she is.
Doctor Fortescue noticed it too.
“Christina, could you just pop out for a second? You
seem to be elevating her stress levels.”
The nostrils flared again as I turned and faced her,
determinedly looking stressed.
You’d think she’d be happier about having me back.
My mother stalked out and closed the door behind her.
As soon as it latched, Fortescue turned back to me.
“So... went backpacking for a little bit, did we?” he
asked, his blue eyes serious.

“I swear I didn’t,” I replied, though I knew it’d be
hopeless. “I told you, I don’t remember anything about last
year.”

“Hm,” he tapped his chin with a pen, and I knew he
was trying to figure out if he believed me or not. “You
shouldn’t have put your mother through it, Rose.”

He went with the latter then. My shoulders slumped.
In this town I would always be that lying seven year old.

He did a few more tests and then proclaimed me to be
in perfect health. My wrist was also apparently healing
quickly from its mysterious injury.

“Come back on the twentieth,” he said, writing me a
small reminder. “And we could probably take it off then.”

I thanked him and left the small room. My mother was
leaning on the wall just outside, but before she could say
one word to me, one of the nurses was calling for her.

“Christina! Oh thank goodness!”
My saviour huffed and puffed her way down the
corridor to us. I thanked her over and over again in mind.

“It’s John Lowry again, he’s refusing to be treated by
anyone else but you and I told him you weren’t on today
but he wasn’t going to leave-”

“It’s alright,” my mother said, though I could see she
wanted to tell her co-worked to grow a spine. “I’ll see him
quickly.”

“Give me the keys and your wallet,” I said to Mum,
instinctively addressing her as I would’ve before all of this
happened. “I’ll pick up some groceries on the way home.
Text me when you need to be picked up.”

She frowned.

“Your phone disappeared with you,” she said darkly,
and I patted my pockets out of habit. “I’ll just call the
home phone.”

She tossed me her wallet and keys, which I caught
deftly to my surprise. I was generally clumsy, and with the
added fact that I could only use one hand, I should’ve
fumbled.

Surprise also registered on Mum’s face, but it was gone,
replaced by that mask of indifference.

It was a relief to step out into the car park by myself. I
took my time unlocking the car door, just allowing myself
some time to breathe for what felt like the first time in
months.

It took me a few attempts to get Mum’s car going. My
hands and feet incredibly uncoordinated, and I knew – by
the time I’d managed to pull out onto the main road – that
I certainly hadn’t been driving in my absent year.

I pulled into the shops, just as the sun disappeared
behind a wall of clouds rolling in from the mountains. The
sudden breeze made me glad I was wearing my hoodie.

I didn’t realise what effect my return would have on
the community until I stepped inside the sliding glass
doors. I didn’t notice it at first as I surveyed the aisles,
determined to restock our house with plenty of food. I
think I was reaching for a bag of apples when I saw the
first double-take. I recognised the woman; she was one of
my old teachers from primary school. As she stared at me,
apparently unashamed, I awkwardly gave her a small
wave and a half smile. I was confused by it until I saw
other women do the same.

Ar Cena is a small, country town. Everyone knows
everything about everyone. My disappearance would’ve
caused the biggest upheaval since I almost burnt the
kitchen down. My reappearance was starting a new wave
of gossip altogether. I could almost see it rising, new
rumours being born in front of me.

I waited for the confrontation. Someone had to do it.
They did. I was lined up for the check-outs when
someone tapped me, politely but firmly. I spun around to
face them almost reflexively.

“Oh… hi, Mrs Johns,” I said timidly.

“Welcome back to Ar Cena, Rose,” she started, her
steely blue eyes examining me. Mrs Johns used to be our
neighbour until a few years ago. She was the type of
woman who would occasionally bring over biscuits when
I was little but, yelled at me to turn my music down when
I was older. “You look… tanned.”

“Do I?” I asked, genuinely mystified. I hadn’t had time
to look at myself in the mirror a lot.
“Indeed. Whereabouts did you travel?”

I realised then and there I needed to make up a lie. I
didn’t want to, but I couldn’t tell everyone that I didn’t
remember a year of my life.

“Here and there,” I said, shrugging. “School got too
much for me, you know?”
“I see,” she said coldly, and I knew that she
disapproved. “Are you going to be returning to school?”

She was making me think of things that I hadn’t had
time to consider. I decided that blasé was my best option
and shrugged.

“Dunno,” I said carelessly, moving up in line. “S’pose
Mum will make me.”
“Your education is very important, Rose. I’m sure your
mother would want you to finish school.”
I shrugged again. As I’d hoped, she let the conversation
end.

I paid for my groceries and hauled them out to the car.
I tried not the let Mrs Johns get to me, but I found myself
considering what she’d suggested as I drove home. Mum
would want me to finish school. I didn’t know if I was so
keen on the idea, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around
the idea of going to work full time at the tender age of
eighteen.

Hang on. I was nineteen now. At some point in the last
year, I would’ve turned nineteen.
Still, I thought as I turned into the driveway, maybe
going back to school isn’t such a bad idea.

I unpacked the bags into the bare pantry and fridge,
finishing just as the home phone rang; Mum had finished
with Mr Lowry and needed to be picked up.

The drive there and back was suffered in silence. Apart
from booting me out of the driver’s seat, it was almost like
I’d never come back in the first place.

“You can clean up your car after tea,” Mum said as we
pulled in. “You need to re-register it, too.”

I just nodded and climbed out. Mum started cooking
schnitzels (I quickly determined that I was no longer
allowed near the stove), whilst I climbed the stairs to my
room. I tugged the vacuum cleaner from its closet and set
about cleaning the dust from every surface.

The sun was beginning to set over the mountains, the
sky streaked with pink and gold.

T
he sunwas setting, turningthe leaves onthe trees
brilliant hues oforange andgold. It madeit looklike the
forest was onfire, and itwas absolutely spectacular.

I stomped on the vacuum cleaner to turn it off. I
massaged my suddenly aching head as my hands began to
shake.