Soul Fire (25 page)

I didn’t go down to help with dinner, and this brought Mom up to my room. She put her arm around me. “My Dear, this will pass, I promise you.”

I doubted that and shook my head.

“Dad and I have decided that when he’s well enough . . . we’ll move. Maybe up to the Mt. Vernon area. Get a fresh start.” She ran her hands through my tangled curls. “Dad’s getting better. We got some good results today.”

My heart leapt. “Really?” I searched her face for the truth.

“Mm-huh. The tests results came back a lot better. We’re hopeful. Of course, time will tell as always.” She hugged me and I let her warmth fill me. No matter what, I always had Mom and hopefully, Dad too.

I waited for the sun to disappear below the horizon before making my exit out the back door. I knew my parents wouldn’t like me going out alone as it was almost nine o’clock. Under a hot pink sunset I made my way to Dell’s. Since the fire at his house, I had no desire to carry any more problems his way, so I went the back way, avoiding the main roads. He hadn’t answered his cell in over a week and since we usually talked every other day, I was worried. Had he left? Had something happened to him?

But to be honest, it wasn’t only my concern for Dell that led to him. I really needed a friend.

By the time I arrived at his uncle’s house, the sky was velvety black and peppered with diamonds. A faint breeze stirred the hedge as I ran up the back steps. I glanced around nervously, then knocked on the door. Of course, there was no answer. Did he ever answer? I rapped on it again and tried the door handle. Locked.

“
Boo!”

I let out a cry and whirled around. Delta was standing near the bottom porch step. “Couldn’t you just say, “
Hi
,” like most people?”

He grinned, a rare thing for him, bounded up next to me, and reached over to unlock the door. We walked into a warm kitchen that smelled of lasagna. He shut the door, hit the lights, and took my arm, turning me around. His dark eyes examined me head to toe. “I heard about Mako running you guys off the road. You okay?”

“Physically.”

His brows went up. “Explain.”

“I have another new status. Comes from the friendlies this time. I’m the new leper on the block. People don’t want their daughters anywhere near me for fear they’ll get killed . . . or worse.” I hadn’t meant to lay that on him or to sound so negative. It just slipped out. Dell did that to me. It was much too easy to talk to him and to be dead honest.

“Ah-h,” he nodded. His hand brushed lightly across my hair. “Understandable though. But, you still have me.” His eyes sought mine . . . his look intense.

I met his gaze. There was so much emotion and tenderness in his look that I had to brace myself. He bent his head and our lips met for the briefest moment. He smelled nice. I leaned forward and rested my head on his chest. His arms went around me and I closed my eyes. He made the world right. Strange feeling, considering he was at odds with life. After a few minutes, he said, “I missed you, Ashla.”

“I pulled back and looked up at him questioningly. “Missed you too. I called a few times, but no answer.”

He reached in his pocket and pulled out a silver cell. “New phone. I’ll give you the number before you go.” He took my hand and pulled me into the living room where we sunk down, side by side, into the old sofa. “Tell me what happened last night.”

I described how Tara had seen a black pickup going back and forth while we were in Carrabba’s and what followed on the way home.

“Don’t look for a black pickup anymore.”

I turned to him, warning bells firing. A weird expression tightened his handsome face. “Mako has no money for another vehicle, so he’ll have to borrow—or steal one. Just be warned.”

“What did you do?”
Should I have asked that?

He shook his head. “Almost nothing. The old Ford engine in his truck was near its end anyway.” And that was all he would say about that. “Be careful. Mako has a screw loose. Cops should arrest him, but they won’t.”

“Why not?”

“Connections. His uncle is a big deal in the sheriff’s department. Mean bugger nicknamed,
Bull.
No one knows whether it’s short for the actual animal, for
bully,
or for bullshit. Fits any which way. The guy leans on anyone who threatens Mako’s freedom.”

I sat straight up. “Is that why Drake wouldn’t do anything about Mako?”

“Bet on it. Bull knows where to put the thumbscrews and how much pressure to apply. A timid, swarmy guy like Drake would wilt.”

That made so much sense. “I never understood Drake’s reaction to my parents the day we went in to see him. At least now I knew. “What about Rand, you know, the jerk who punched me? Why would Drake protect him?”

“Even worse, Bull is Rand’s old man. Like father like son. Rand and Mako are cousins. Thought you knew that.”

Everything snapped into place. “No, I didn’t. So, I guess Mako and Rand have a free pass to do whatever.”

Dell leaned back, pulling me with him. “Yeah, a free pass. And it extends to Mako’s friends as well. Crip and Raptor got a few hours in juvie for attacking you and Celeste that night in the empty lot. Then they were released.”

I shuddered. “Maybe my parents are right to consider a move.”

“A move is a good idea. Maybe north of the 49
^th
. Barring that, you could head down to California.”

“How about Mt. Vernon?”

“Not far enough. These guys could be up there in no time. If you’re going to the trouble of moving, make it worthwhile, go the distance. Otherwise you risk repeat performances, and I doubt any of you want that.”

“No, of course not, but moving means leaving my friends. Celeste especially. We grew up together. We’re like sisters. We know what the other’s thinking and feeling. We can read each other and just know things. We stand by one another no matter what. I can’t even imagine life without her, any more than I could imagine it without little Anika.”

“Moving will be hard, for sure.”

“And to make things worse, Celeste told me her family plans on moving out of the area as well.”

“What about Tara and Brenna?”

“Don’t know. I love them too. Life without any of them will be—
strange
.” I thought of Dell living alone at seventeen, in his uncle’s house, his mom gone, and no one to take her place. My cheeks grew hot and I felt ashamed. “Sorry, Dell. Here I am, whining away. I’ve got it good compared to you, living here like this, no family, few friends. It’s harder for you.”

“I get by.”

“Not really. You’re alone here. You can’t even go back to Mount Olympic and finish your junior year.” Suddenly, I had a thought. “My grandmother is home schooling me, prepping me for finals. Why don’t you join us? She’s a retired teacher, but she’ll get us through with top grades.”

“You talking about the old battle axe that lives in your house? The one you love to hate?”

I chuckled. “I never promised you a good time.”

He laughed. “Knock yourself out. It’s not for me.”

“I’m serious, Dell. You need to pass those exams. She’ll get you ready.”

He was quiet. Then he surprised me. “I passed them. Last fall.”

“What?” Then I remembered what his neighbor had told me about Dell’s mom being a teacher and advancing him in his education.

“Remember? My mother tutored me. This past year she knew there was a good chance she wouldn’t make it through the spring, so she arranged for me to be officially tested. I basically passed eleventh grade last October.”

I scratched my head. “I don’t get it. Why did you sit out the year then?”

“I needed to blend in. Besides, it would be unseemly for a Tarantula to have any brains, so I cruised along with the rest of them. Went through the motions. Drake tried to talk me into doing my senior year.”

Stunned, I mumbled. “Amazing.”

“Mom gave all she could to me in the short time we had together. Her focus was always on better use of the human brain. She had a thing about that. Said human beings don’t come close to using ten percent of our brain cells.”

I laughed. “And some use almost none. But on the other hand, there’s you. I bet your mom got you ready to write the grade 12 exams as well. You could probably pass them right now.”

“Probably. But I need to put in a full year in a California high school in order to qualify for reduced fees at UCSF.”

I nodded. That was important to Dell. But it meant another friend moving away, I thought sadly. “When will you head south?”

“Soon.”

“Humm. What exactly are you waiting for?”

He turned to me, his eyes lingering on mine. Finally, he said, “You.”

At 8:25 the next morning, I staggered bleary-eyed but fully dressed into the dining room. Neatly arranged on the table were textbooks, pens, paper, and a note demanding that I show up with my Mac. But my grandmother was missing. I retrieved my laptop and returned to the dining room, noting that it was after 8:30, my grandmother’s deadline. So where was she?

Feeling pompous, I went looking for her, a first for me. I strolled into the living room, back into the kitchen, and eventually down the hall to her bedroom. The door was open, so I peered inside. During the time she had lived with us, I had never looked in my grandmother’s private domain. The room itself offered no warmth, no frills, no fancy bedspread and matching window draperies, no knickknacks, and no feminine touches. The bland yellow paint set a dull backdrop to an otherwise colorless room lined with overburdened bookshelves. I stepped timidly into the room for a closer look around and was astounded by the vast assortment of books, albums, journals, and magazines all stacked in size order, spines neatly visible. Turning around slowly, I examined the room. The single bed looked hard and forbidding and appeared out of place in this library-like setting.

In the far corner, almost hidden from my view, was grandfather’s rocker. His favorite blanket, worn and shabby, was thrown across the backrest. In a trance, I walked toward it, my thoughts riveting back in time to the gentle elderly man whom I had loved dearly. I reached out and touched the armrest. The second my fingertips rested on the deep grain of the wood, his voice echoed in my ear as if it was yesterday: “Hey, Carrots, come sit with Grandpa.” I was six or so then. Rubbing the wood, I recalled my left hand on his as we rocked together, him reading, me following along with my right index finger until sleep had closed my eyes.

Now, unable to stop myself, I reached for his woolen blanket and buried my face in its strange warmth. I inhaled. Whether it was my imagination or not, his scent filled my senses and he came alive in my heart and my memories. I closed my eyes and drifted back in time to happier days.

Eventually, I re-folded the blanket and gently replaced it, my hands lingering on the fabric, reluctant to give it up. When I looked up, my eyes fell on my grandmother’s chipped desktop. She had somehow managed to squeeze that piece of furniture in behind the rocker. The surface was bare except for a small array of framed photos. One was of her and Grandpa outside their lovely home before he passed away. Another was a family picture of the six of us taken at Christmas that year, the last time we were together. A third was a small photo of Anika. The last, the one that surprised me the most, was a large school photograph of me, taken last fall. I picked it up, wondering why my grandmother had bothered putting a photo of
me
on her desktop. I flipped it over and nearly dropped it. Her handwriting was tight and neat:
My beautiful Ashla in her junior year
.

“What are you doing in my room!” The anger seared the air around me and I froze.

She stood inside the doorway, her eyes cutting into me, her fists clenched. She was dressed in a different dress today, but still wore black pumps. Her gray curls had been upended and she had a fresh scratch on her face. “Put that down before you drop it.”

The picture slipped from my hand, but I caught it before it hit the desk. “Wondered what happened to you, that’s all. You had said 8:30 sharp.” I choked out, bolting past her. Escape was all I could think of.

Halfway down the hall I heard her say: “Can’t find Crossbow.” The heartbreak in her voice stopped me, and I turned around. Her eyes were wide and pleading.

“I looked everywhere . . . ” Her voice registered fear, grief, and worry mixed into a cocktail of emotion that told me something was wrong. The cat had been with her for years, even though Grandpa disliked the animal. “Pesky darned cat,” he had always said. “He’d just as soon rake off your skin as look at ye’.”

“Crossbow must be around somewhere,” I said.

She shook her head. “Searched the whole house. Outside. Even behind the rose bushes. Somehow he must have gotten out and wondered off. Or . . . something’s happened to him.”

I swallowed. Had he slipped out with me, last night? I hoped not. “He’ll show up,” I offered, hoping I hadn’t contributed to yet another disaster.

She nodded, lifted her chin, and smoothed her dress. “Well, shall we head to the classroom? Not much more I can do right now.”

She followed me into the dining room and absently dropped my test paper down in front of me. “Not too bad,” she said. “Couple of areas that need work. And your overall score could be improved.”

A big 85% was written in red at the top of the first page. That was a pass, but for my grandmother, nothing short of perfection was good enough. I think I may have inherited that irritating flaw.

We broke at lunch, my face flushed and hot. Deciding to get some air, I made my way to the front porch, anticipating the feel of the unusually warm May sun on my too pale skin. I swung the door open, stepped outside, and let out a scream that probably rocked the whole neighborhood.

Dangling on the left side of the covered porch was a ropelike object. I bent over, trying not to heave.

Mom rushed out. “Ashla, what—“ I heard her muffle a cry and she fled back inside the house. “I’ll call the sheriff.”

I stood up, woozy, my mind racing. It was only
the tail
. Where was the
rest
?