Balefire

Chapter Two
 

SILKE DEPLANED LAST in Dallas, and another airline employee greeted her. The talkative young woman guided her effortlessly through the maze of hallways and elevators to the TSA security checkpoint in the international concourse. She felt self-conscious using a wheelchair since her legs were fine, but without peripheral vision, crowded places created the constant threat of accident or injury. And not just to her.

Her vision only allowed her to see a small window directly in front
of her and nothing on either side or above her or even below chest lev
el. Tripping had become an ongoing occurrence. Her doctor had told her that seventy percent of patients with her condition improved, but there was also a chance it could lead to permanent blindness. She preferred the glass-half full approach and could still work because so much of her craft depended on the use of her hands. The evidence—her sculptures—were highly valued and sought after. If her vision continued to deteriorate, she hoped she’d still be able to teach.

Standing in the gate area near the window, she watched the preparations for the large jet that would carry her to her peaceful, tropical paradise. Her shoulders relaxed as worries about her studio, her students, her next project,
and her deteriorating relationship faded. She rolled her head around to
loosen her neck muscles and focused her limited sight on the distant hori
zon. Ominous dark clouds formed in the distance, sending a little shiver up her spine
. Another spring storm coming
.

She thought about the house and wondered whether Rachel would re
member to cut the grass. Too late to worry now. As if in contrast to the seasonal changes in the Midwest, the perennial lush jungle landscape of
Belize and Ambergris Caye beckoned her like a siren. The annual trip pro
vided two heavenly weeks of tropical restoration. The friendly third world country she’d adopted always fed her soul and renewed her spirit.

She sat with her backpack and cane between her feet.

“Is this seat taken?” a woman asked.

The woman stood too close to see clearly, but Silke recognized her voice from the previous flight. It was the woman who had tripped over her cane. “No.”

“Thanks, I sometimes forget how crowded the international flights are,” the woman said. “Weren’t you on the Milwaukee flight?”

“Yes, my cane tripped you—not intentionally, of course . . . sorry.” Silke reached out her hand and smiled.

The woman waved her off. “My fault, I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry. I didn’t look where I was going. It seems like I do that a lot.” Her carry-on tipped over and banged into a small table next to the seat. “Shit.”

Silke listened carefully to the pleasant cadence of a Midwestern accent, but a voice tight with tension. “Are you going to Belize?”

“Yes, a last minute order from my editor changed my plans. She wants me to go down and review a new island resort.” The woman slumped down in the seat with a grunt. “It was the last minute part that threw me off. I’ve been playing catch-up all day.”

“That can be difficult to remedy. Have you been to Belize before?” Silke asked.

“No, actually I haven’t. I’ve visited several places in Central America and a few in the eastern Caribbean. I’ve heard Belize is a hidden gem.”

“Will you be staying on the mainland?” Silke felt the tension between them soften.

The woman audibly exhaled and fumbled with some papers. “No . . . I have a reservation at some place on one of the cayes, but I can’t remember the name. There’s a commuter flight from Belize City to a larger caye then I call for a boat or something. Where are you staying?”

Silke held her cane to her chest. “I have friends who own a resort on Ambergris Caye, and I visit every year.”

“You must really like it there.”

Silke smiled. “Yes, I look forward to this trip as my time to renew.”

“No family?”

“My partner travels most of the year so her idea of a vacation is staying
at home. My idea is just the opposite. I work at home all year so my vaca
tion is to get as far away from home as possible.”

Silke noticed that the woman stopped fidgeting and rustling papers.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a loud crackled voice blared, “we will now begin boarding first class passengers for our nonstop service to Belize City, Belize.”

The people around them noisily gathered their belongings to board. In anticipation of the three-hour flight, Silke decided to delay boarding until the end. She had reserved a bulkhead seat in order to accommodate her long legs and her cane.

Her new acquaintance stood up. “Are you going to board now?”

“I think I’ll wait a few minutes, but thank you.” Silke shifted her back
pack to her shoulder and the boarding pass to her vest pocket.
 

IT DIDN’T TAKE long for Kirin to snap back into her travel mode.
She glanced over her shoulder at the soft-spoken stranger with the daz
zling green eyes and pleasant manner.
Interesting
. When they called for coach boarding, she managed to be first in line and found room in the
overhead compartment for her carry-on. Her window seat was on the nar
row side of the 738. She pulled out her laptop and started reading some of the research she had downloaded when Esther, her editor, gave her the assignment.

After a few minutes, her mind wandered back to the stranger. Inter
esting to find another Wisconsinite going to Belize.
I should have asked where she’s staying. Might be worth an interview—a local angle. I’ll ask if I see her again.

She looked up from her research as the flight attendant squeezed an
other bag into the overhead compartment. The attendant stepped back, revealing the woman she had met inside.

Kirin listened as the woman and the flight attendant chatted about the seat belt and safety provisions. The woman was much taller with broad shoulders and narrow hips than she had seemed when they were sitting down. Her reddish-blond hair hung just past her shoulders and framed a strong freckled face with those dazzling green eyes.

The woman looked at Kirin and smiled. The attendant helped her with a seat belt just as the captain began to announce their departure.

“I guess we meet again.” Kirin closed up her laptop and tossed a look out the window.

“So it seems.” The woman offered an enigmatic smile and leaned back on the headrest.

The speaker microphone clicked. “We’re ready for departure. Please be sure all your personal belongings are safely stowed under the seat or in the overhead compartment.”

Kirin pulled out her cell phone one more time and texted Melissa about
the departure and turned it off. She glanced at her seatmate who was un
rolling ear buds for her iPod.
Hmm.
Probably just as well. A nap would be far more beneficial than small talk. Her anger about the new assignment had prevented a good night’s sleep and as the adrenaline level dropped, the fatigue crept in. She glanced at her lovely seatmate. Maybe the assignment wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Some turbulence woke Kirin for a second time. She passed on the in-
flight snack as the fatigue from two weeks of hard work took over. Esther had been ruthless in her editorial comments. Because it had made the publisher angry, Kirin wondered if her paycheck would be late. As much
as she revered her publisher and mentor, Nathan Silver, he could be a por
tentous porcupine that pricked her and everyone around her. Then she’d remind herself of the benefits of a regular paycheck and free travel to interesting and exotic places. Her interior walls were long and steeled from years of unexpressed frustration.

Outside the window, large banks of foreboding clouds loomed over
head and rain streamed horizontally across the window. That would explain the turbulence.

Her watch said two forty-five, which meant they’d been in the air for over two hours.
Wow, I must have been tired.
She guessed by the rhythmic
foot bouncing that her seatmate was listening to music. “Did I miss any
thing?”

The woman turned, smiled, and removed one ear bud. “Pardon me?”

“I just wondered if I missed any news while I enjoyed my coma.”

The woman rolled her shoulders and stretched a little. “Well, you did miss a fabulous three course luncheon complete with champagne. We also watched a hysterically funny film and a couple of jugglers.”

“Gosh, why didn’t you wake me?”

“I tried several times and so did the flight attendant, but we were forced to concede that you must be dead.” Her green eyes twinkled.

Kirin liked the ribbing. “Oh, I see. You’re just going to continue to abuse this poor overworked writer for your own enjoyment. My name is Kirin Foster, by the way.” She offered her hand.

The woman chuckled. “I’m sorry. I must be a little bored. I’m Silke Dyson.” She warmly clasped Kirin’s hand.

“That’s a lovely name. Silky, just like the fabric?”

“It’s spelled with an E but pronounced like a Y. My mom named me after her classics professor. And your first name, how do you spell that?”

“Just like Karen—only with two i’s.” Kirin stared at Silke’s fun-lov
ing smile. “Sounds sort of Swedish. I guess we’re a couple of odd-named ducks. Did you get a lot of heat in school for having the name?”

Silke adjusted herself in her seat as a passenger moved by. “Sure, but as one of those artsy-fartsy kids who didn’t care too much, it didn’t cause any permanent damage.” She folded up her iPod cord and stuck it in the pocket of her vest. “I’m going to ask for some water. Do you want anything?” She pushed the button.

Kirin noticed the veins in her muscled hands. “Good idea, I’m parched. In fact, I’d like a Coke or Pepsi if they have it.”

The attendant brought their beverages.

“Do you have any idea if this rain extends into Belize?” Kirin asked.

The attendant poured the drinks over ice. “I’ll check with the cockpit, but I heard the co-pilot mention something about threatening weather.”

Kirin stuck the water bottle in her bag for later and swallowed some Coke. “Rain is definitely something that could dampen my review of a
tropical island. It’s really hard to see a place in a positive light when every
body’s hunkered down indoors and grousing about the weather.” She felt her edginess creeping back at just the thought of bad weather.

Silke nodded. “I can understand that, although it makes very little
difference to me. I’ve been down here in so many different kinds of weath
er that I appreciate them all.”

“I meant to ask you earlier where you were staying.” Kirin turned her attention away from the stormy weather outside.

“In San Pedro, right on Ambergris Caye. It’s a narrow strip of land that runs all the way up to Mexico. San Pedro is really the only town and it’s tiny, and quaint, with streets of sand. It’s only about a mile long and four blocks wide, so it’s easy to navigate. The vacation resort is located just a few miles north of San Pedro. So the best way to get to and from town is by boat because the one road that goes north and south can be impassable if it’s rainy.”

“So, what’s there to do at the resort? Or do you come back to town for entertainment?”

Silke smiled. “Most of the activity on the cayes is connected to scuba diving, snorkeling, or fishing. There’s not much in the way of nightlife. I’m content to hang around the resort with my friends and swim or listen to books on tape. Activities are planned every day so it’s never boring and you can always take the boat into town or, weather permitting, rent a golf cart . . .”