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Authors: Patricia Kiyono

The Christmas Phoenix (2 page)

BOOK: The Christmas Phoenix
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****

Jake groaned as he settled into the whirlpool. He ached all over. Thank goodness his sister had married well. This vacation home of theirs was full of luxuries he could never have afforded. He massaged his legs, easing the knots from his tired muscles.

When the Iraqi sniper's bullet had torn through his leg it hadn't only damaged his body, it had changed his life. He'd had to relearn how to walk. At times he'd wanted to give up. But Donna had appeared at the army hospital and ordered him to get up. She'd stayed right with him, egging him on when he'd thought he'd had enough. When he'd been released, she'd begged him to come to Chicago with her and her family. But he'd decided to return to St. Louis, where they had both grown up, to attend culinary school. He soon discovered chefs needed to be on their feet long hours every day, and his leg had often given out. A course in ice sculpting had piqued his interest, and he'd gone in that direction, rather than food preparation. He'd built up an impressive clientele in the St Louis area.

And then he'd met Mary.

She'd come to an event at the America's Center and had seen his work. Somehow she'd tracked him down and discovered he had no business manager, no accountant, and no PR. Before he knew it, she had insinuated herself into not only his business, but every aspect of his life. Back then he hadn't understood why his sister couldn't get along with his new love. In hindsight, maybe he should have listened when Donna had tried to warn him about giving Mary too much access to his finances. But he hadn't listened, and suddenly she was gone, along with his credit cards and his pride.

So he'd had to start over. Donna again offered her home, but he needed to be alone. So she'd offered her "summer home.”

"It's back away from the road. You can go to Traverse City for the things you need, but it's far enough from town that you'll feel like you're out in the woods." She was right. The house was perfect for him.

The doctors had advised him to keep up his physical therapy, but since he'd moved to Michigan there just hadn't been time to look for a therapist, let alone go to the appointments and do the exercises at home. He had a business to revive. Maybe next year.

Or maybe he could avoid the doctors and work out on his own. This house had a state-of-the-art weight room. He could do the exercises and save himself some time and money. If his legs couldn't handle the little bit of work he'd done today, he was getting too soft. And then he wouldn't be able to do anything for himself. He'd vowed he would never be helpless. Asking for help was embarrassing and demeaning. He would never allow himself to be that weak again.

He adjusted his bad leg so the hot water massaged his tired muscles. No use stewing over the past. It was time to move on. Alone.

Chapter Three

 

Jake filled and set the ice machine. The machine circulated the water as it froze slowly, eliminating the trapped air and impurities, resulting in a clear block of ice. It took three days for the ice to set, so he made sure to refill the tanks as soon as he harvested the blocks. Thanks to his sister's huge chest freezer, he had extra blocks on hand for larger orders.

Since his next order wasn't due for a few days, he decided to spend some time with Charlie. The yellow lab puppy belonged to his brother-in-law, but Donna had insisted Jake and Charlie needed each other for company.

The snow in front of the house had no paw prints. Charlie was probably in the back. Jake went out the back door and whistled, and soon the little bundle of energy raced around the house to greet him.

Jake had learned to come prepared with something to play fetch. He drew the neon green tennis ball from his pocket and tossed it as far as he could. Charlie raced after it and Jake laughed as the puppy bounced around in the deep snow, looking for the ball. After a quick search, Charlie brought it back. Like the well-trained animal he was, he set it down gently at Jake's feet and stepped back. Jake picked up the ball and prepared to throw it again.

Just as he raised his arm, a succession of cracking sounds pierced the air. Jake froze. For a moment he was transported back to Iraq. All around him, men fell, screaming from their wounds. He sank to the ground and started in surprise when his face hit the cold snow.

Snow? In the desert?

Slowly, he lifted his head. He wasn't in the desert. There were no soldiers falling around him, but the cracking noise continued. Firecrackers.

Charlie ran in circles, frightened by the noise. Jake picked himself up, wanting to comfort the puppy, but Charlie ran faster and barked louder, his eyes gleaming in terror. He suddenly bolted toward the house and stood at the back door, yapping frantically. It looked like he was determined to go inside. Jake remembered reading that frightened dogs looked for a place where they felt safe.

He trudged back toward the house and opened the back door. Charlie promptly headed for the basement and dashed to the pool table. And there he huddled. Jake started to descend the stairs but stopped when he heard the unmistakable sound of the dog getting sick. The smell wafting up the stairs told him there was an even bigger mess. Groaning, he closed the basement door and headed to the garage. His brother-in-law's snowmobile would get him to the source of the continuing explosions faster than driving would. Whoever was setting off those things would have to clean up after Charlie.

The sound came from across the gully, from the house directly behind his. Hopefully the stream was frozen over enough to be able to ride directly across. Riding along the bank, he found an area where someone had constructed a makeshift bridge. He scooted across and up the hill to his neighbor's yard.

Three boys stood together, surrounded by the litter from hundreds of firecrackers. The trio quickly broke apart when they heard his snowmobile approach.

“Afternoon, boys.” He took his time looking each boy in the eye and memorizing their faces. Two looked guilty and backed away, but the tallest one swaggered toward him.

“Hello, mister. Nice machine you've got there. Nice day for a ride, too.”

Jake's eyes narrowed. The kid was too smooth to be sincere. “Yeah, it was a nice day for my dog, too, until a bunch of firecrackers scared the living daylights out of him.”

“Really? That's too bad. I'm sure he'll get over it soon.”

“I'm not so sure. Right now he's hiding in my basement. He's scared, and he's so sick it's going to take several people to clean up the mess.”

The boys looked at each other, their faces scrunched in disgust. The tall one regained his composure first. “Gee, mister. That's rough. But you can't prove anything.”

“I've got some pretty good pictures of all the firecracker litter on the snow. And I'm sure if I went from house to house with these pictures, some of these nice neighbors would be able to identify the boys in them.” He hadn't taken any pictures—yet. But he hoped his ruse would get results.

“Aww, Zach, I told you we shouldn't take your dad's firecrackers.”

“It wasn't my idea to take
all
of them. That was Brad's bright idea.”

“Yeah, I'm sure your mom isn't gonna like this either, Rory.”

Bingo
, Jake thought. Now he had names. Zach, Brad, and Rory. All he had to do was find out where they lived.

Chapter Four

 

Jess pulled off her boots, hung up her coat, scarf and hat, and padded into the kitchen.
A cup of hot coffee or cocoa would be wonderful,
she thought, but she was too tired to fix it for herself. Orange juice. That would be easy. She opened the refrigerator, but the orange juice container wasn't there. Had Rory finished it off? He should have been home from school by now. Hopefully, he was in his room. There was no note telling her he was at someone else's house, and the voicemail light on the phone wasn't blinking.

She'd look later. Right now she had to get off her feet. She'd been up since 4 am, clearing out people's driveways. And she'd gotten an inquiry for clearing the parking lot at the new convenience store on the highway. So business was starting to pick up. Hopefully, she could convince her new customers to subscribe to her lawn service in the summertime.

But right now, the hotel job was needed to help pay the bills. So she'd put on her little uniform, gone to work, and put up with Mad Max, who ruled the dining room at the Pine Ridge Hotel. She'd set out linens and silverware just the way he liked it, and then helped serve a luncheon to twenty or so society matrons who had nothing better to do than dress up and look gorgeous and gossip. Of course, these women didn't see her as a person. She might as well have been a piece of furniture. They talked about people she had heard about, and their private lives. She'd almost spilled the soup she'd been serving when Mrs. Reginald Harrison, the mayor's wife, had gone into details about her recent second honeymoon.

Jess grabbed a glass of water and went to her favorite recliner. Leaning back, she put her feet up and closed her eyes.
Ahh.
All her thoughts blended into a pastel haze. Doug was back, taking care of her, massaging her feet, telling her not to worry. And then he dropped a rock.
A rock?
A whole bag of rocks, and they bounced across her floor. He kept picking them up and dropping them. Why did he keep doing that? Rory was yelling now. He was talking to someone. Someone with a deep voice. And then he yelled.

"Mom!"

She tried to open her eyes, but her lids wouldn't move.

"Mom, there's a guy here."

A guy?

"Mom!" Rory sounded worried now. She felt his hand on her shoulder, shaking it.

"Mister, I don't know what's wrong with her. I gotta call 911."

"Has she been sick? Is she on medication?"

Who did that deep voice belong to?

"No, I don't think so. I don't know. She was okay when she took me to school this morning. She was mad because I forgot my books and stuff again. Mom, wake up! I promise I'll do my homework. Right now. Wake up!" His voice sounded frantic now.

She tried to answer, she truly did, but all that came out was a groan.

A large, warm hand felt her forehead, and then her cheek. It was a rough hand, the thick calluses scratching her skin, but curiously it felt comforting, reassuring.

"She's not feverish. That's a good sign."

She finally pried one eye open. "Hmmm?" She still couldn't form any words.

"She's waking up! Mom, what happened?"

Two faces came into view. One was a familiar, dear face. Her son. Her baby boy. He looked worried. The other one was vaguely familiar. Dark, rough and rugged. And equally concerned.

She took a deep breath. "Who're you?"

"She said something! What did she say?"

"She wanted to know who I am. I think.”

"There's a glass of water on the end table. Here, Mom."

The rugged one took the water from Rory. "Wait just a minute." He brought the glass to his nose, sniffed it, and tasted it. Then he held it to her face.

"I'm not drinking that." Finally, her tongue started to work.

"Why not?"

"You drank out of my glass."

"I had to make sure it was water, and not something that would put you back to sleep."

Rory's face looked less worried now. More stern. "Mom, have you been drinking?"

She nearly laughed, but the effort was still too great. "Wha—who—drinking? No. Just really tired, I guess." She turned to Jake. "Who—who are you? How did you get in?"

"Jake Thompson. I live in the house behind you. I came over to talk to you. Your kid answered the door and when you didn't wake up he asked me to help. He was really worried."

"Yeah, Mom. I kept calling you and you didn't move or anything."

"I'm fine, Rory. Just tired." She turned to Jake. "Thanks for coming in to help him, but I'll be all right, now that I've slept. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Uh, Mom, I'll get you something to eat."

She turned back to her son. "What about you? Aren't you hungry?"

"Mom, it's seven o'clock now. I ate a while ago."

"Seven?" She stood, fully awake now. "Oh, no!"

"I'm okay. I ate at Nate's house. Didn't you get my message?"

"What message? I didn't see a note on the counter, and there was no voicemail."

"I sent you a text."

"Oh." She pulled her phone out of her pocket. The battery was dead. Another detail she hadn't taken care of. She groaned and flopped back into her recliner.

"Kid, why don't you get your mom another glass of water, and something to eat?"

Rory frowned at the man, but he took the glass and disappeared from view.

The stranger took a seat on the ottoman. "So now that your son is busy, and you're awake, why don't I get to the reason I came over in the first place?"

"You brought that ice sculpture to the Pine Ridge Hotel this morning, didn't you?"

"Right. And if you were out driving a snowplow earlier, I think you were in my driveway this morning."

The grumpy guy from the next street.
"Right. I thought you looked familiar. Sorry about the mix-up."

"Not a problem. But I'm here about something else. Your son is terrorizing my dog."

"He—what?"

"He and his friends were lighting firecrackers this afternoon. The dogs in the entire neighborhood were howling in fear. I'm taking care of my sister's dog, and I don't need to add ‘going to the dog shrink' to my list of responsibilities."

"Firecrackers? Rory? But—but…" There was nothing she could say. Rory had been home, unsupervised, for at least two hours before she'd gotten home from the hotel. He said he'd gone to his friend's house.

"Were they doing that here, or at the neighbor's? Rory said he ate at his friend's house."

"The firecrackers were set off here, in your back yard. He must have gone to his friend's house after I came over and talked to them. They denied it, of course, but the evidence was scattered all over the snow. I told them all I was going to come and talk to their parents. I've already talked to two sets of them. You're the last one."

"Oh no. I'm so sorry."

"I'm sure you are. So I have a proposition for you. Since the boys scared Charlie so much he won't leave my basement, I think they should help with the mess the dog left because of it."

"When?"

Jake checked his watch. "Whenever he's ready. The other boys are coming over at 7:30 and it's 7:15 now. I'd better head home."

He looked up at Rory, who had just entered the room carrying a plate and a glass of water. "You take care of your mom, and make sure she's okay. If you don't feel safe leaving her tonight, I'll have other things you can help me with tomorrow or later in the week."

He reached for his wallet and pulled out a business card, which he handed to Jess.

"Here's my card. I'm legit. I'm not a predator, but I won't be offended if you want to check out my background, or call the other parents. One of the other boys' dad is coming along tonight, presumably to watch his kid, but I'm sure he's not comfortable sending his kid out to a stranger's home. Whatever works out for you is fine with me." He turned then and let himself out. A moment later Jess heard a snowmobile start and zoom away.

"Rory."

"Just take it easy, Mom. I'll get you a TV table."

"I can eat it on my lap. Rory, where did you guys get firecrackers?"

"Zach had them. Do you want some pop?"

"No, water is fine. Talk to me, Rory. What happened? You must have had a lot of firecrackers for Mr.—" She glanced at the business card. "Mr. Thompson's dog to be so traumatized."

Rory shrugged. "He found a whole box of them. His dad got them out of state and had them stored for next Fourth of July."

"So Zach stole them from his dad."

Another shrug. "I guess so. He's in a lot of trouble."

"I can imagine he is. And you were with him, so you're also responsible. I'm going to finish this sandwich, and then I'll take you over to Mr. Thompson's house. Maybe you can get started on your homework before we go." She picked up her sandwich and started to eat. Rory had taken great care building this sandwich. He'd put mayonnaise on both sides, just the way she liked it, and added lettuce, cheese, and tomato slices in addition to the chicken. And he'd toasted the bread. Heaven.

She munched happily, enjoying her meal, realizing this was the first meal her son had prepared for her by himself. He had helped Doug fix her birthday and Mother's Day breakfasts, but that was long ago. He really was capable of feeding himself. Her dad had mentioned Rory needed more responsibility.

“You're spoiling your son,” he'd said. “He's going to turn into a wimp.”

She'd thought he was being too hard on his grandson. "He's only fourteen, Dad," she'd insisted.

A part of her knew her dad was right. But it was so hard. She'd start to ask Rory to take more responsibility, and she'd remember him standing at his father's grave, so lost. And then she'd do the work herself.

“Mom, have you ever heard of a phoenix?” Rory's question brought her back to the present.

She swallowed her bite before answering. “Sure. It's a mythical bird that lives for a long time and when it burns, a new phoenix comes to life from the ashes. Why?”

“We're studying myths in Language Arts. We're supposed to write about a myth that applies to our lives. I think the phoenix's story is a lot like us.”

“Why?”

“Because we had to start over again after Dad died. It was really tough for a while, like the fire and the ashes. But I think we're starting to make it.” He bent his head over his notebook.

Choking on the lump in her throat, Jess couldn't have responded if she'd tried.

BOOK: The Christmas Phoenix
4.23Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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