Dreams of Fire (Maple Hill Chronicles Book 1) (26 page)

Marianne revived a little and tried to sit up. Kelly’s strong arms propped her up and put pillows behind her. “Hey take it easy. We’ve got you. Sarah, see if she’s got some soda or something sweet.”

“Oscar ran off. He’s never been outside here,” Marianne murmured.

“Don’t worry. We’ll put some food out for him, so he knows where to go. He’ll be okay. You’ve got some cuts, and we think you need to go to the urgent care place. You might need stitches in your arm.”

Sarah returned with a glass of cold tea, and Marianne gratefully took it and sipped. She made a face at the horrible sweetness of it but knew it was what she needed, so she drank a little more. The cobwebs began to clear, and she felt stronger.

“Okay,” she agreed. “My purse is in here somewhere. “

The trip to Urgent Care took a few hours, in spite of there being few emergencies other than her. She took more than a dozen stitches in her forearm and palm and was told several times how lucky she was that she’d missed everything important. She sat through the glass shards being picked out of her knees by a patient nurse. When asked how she’d come to hurt herself she said she’d stupidly put her hand through a glass window and then fallen in her surprise. Sarah and Kelly backed her up solidly and took her back to their place.

Marianne sat gingerly on their rosebud patterned couch, wincing at all the little cuts and aches and pains. “Thank you guys so much for rescuing me yet again.”

Sarah got a couple of glasses of cold water and some snacks from the kitchen and sat down with Kelly nearby. “You want to tell us what really happened to you?”

Marianne related what she had experienced, saying, “I realized that today is the anniversary of the fire that killed Anne’s little brother. That must be why it happened. It was the weirdest sensation.” She looked at them perplexed. “I was sure it was all going on for real at one level, and another part of me was trying to think more clearly. I’m not even sure what actually occurred since there was no fire or smoke damage. All I know is that I don’t really want to sleep there tonight.” She closed her eyes, feeling drained.

Sarah said thoughtfully, “It kind of sounds like Anne and you are in synch with each other. People are beings of energy at some level, and spirits are all energy. If a person and a spirit are on the same wavelength, they can resonate with each other sympathetically. I think somehow you got caught up in Anne’s memories of the fire.”

“That’s the thing. She was never in the fire herself,” Marianne protested. “It was her little brother who was trapped, not her.”

Sarah shrugged. “I can’t explain that. Still, I think somehow you and she resonate with each other.”

While they had similar life experiences in some things, Marianne felt she was significantly different because she’d left her abusive husband.
 

“Maybe Anne likes you for that reason,” Sarah suggested. “You are much feistier than she was. Hmmm,” Sarah mused thoughtfully. “Maybe we can use that.”

Marianne nodded. “I see what you’re saying… I mean I don’t know how to ask someone to move on, but I think I understand her. George, on the other hand…”

Kelly scowled, “Do you think he had a hand in anything this afternoon?”

Marianne frowned and shook her head. “Maybe he lured Oscar downstairs or somehow kept him down there, making me go down after him. Other than that, it just seemed like Anne.”

The shadows were lengthening outside, and the air was cooling off a little. A plaintive growl came from someone’s stomach, and they all laughed.

“Me too!” Kelly said emphatically. She got up and went into the kitchen and began banging pots and pans around.

Sarah said, “If today’s the anniversary of the fire, there’s a pretty good chance that Anne will stop being so worried and trying to get you out of the house.”

“Can I please stay here tonight?” Marianne asked in a small voice. “I don’t think I could stand another round of fire dreams, or George yelling at me. If I didn’t have a complex about basements before this, I sure have one now.”

“Of course. We need to get your ‘roommates’ out as soon as possible,” Sarah said firmly. “You need rest tonight, and I need to go to work tomorrow. We could do it tomorrow night, if you’re up for it?”

Marianne nodded emphatically. “Tell me what I need to do.”

Sarah wrote out a short list of things to get at the co-op and set the time for early evening while it was still light out. Marianne breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t fancy having to perform some sort of exorcism after dark. It was likely to be scary enough as it was.
 

Marianne slept long and deeply. She woke to her phone ringing persistently. Disoriented for a moment, she recalled where she was and winced as she reached for the phone.

“Hello?” She said sleepily.

“Hi, Marianne?”

She said in confusion, “Ruari?”

“I’m sorry. Is this a bad time? It’s after nine; I assumed you’d be up.”

“No, no. It’s okay. I had no idea it was that late. What is it?”

“I was just calling to tell you the parts for your dishwasher are in, and I could install them today if you like.”

“Uh, sure. When were you thinking?”

“I could come around eleven, if that works for you?”

“That’ll work. Um, do you still have the measurements for the window you replaced last week? I broke it again, and you’ll have to fix it again. Sorry.” She winced at her inadequate words.

He hesitated before saying, “Okay. I’ll see what I can do. It’s supposed to rain later today.”

She thanked him, and the phone clicked as she disconnected. He sat in his truck a moment longer. She was such a strange woman. She seemed so sincere but had such odd things happen around her. Perhaps she had a good explanation, and it was an accident of some kind. Maybe her “ghosts” were somehow responsible. He really did not know what to make of her ghost stories. They sounded suspiciously like excuses to him.

Sighing, he turned the key in the ignition of his truck and headed back to the hardware store.

Marianne lay in bed for a moment, feeling rested but rather flat after all the excitement. Her stomach had only flopped a little when she’d recognized his voice.
 
She wondered if she’d gotten over him or lost interest somehow when she wasn’t looking and felt a little sad about that. Eventually she rolled over, muttering, “Ouch, ouch,” as she caught her bandaged right hand. It was overcast and relatively gloomy out, which explained how she’d slept in so long. Getting up produced more winces and stifled hisses as she hobbled to the bathroom and found some ibuprofen.
 

Kelly had thoughtfully left a T-shirt and shorts out for her to borrow as her own clothes were covered in blood. Wearing the clothes of an Amazonian goddess didn’t work so well for Marianne’s shorter, stockier frame, but she appreciated it anyway. Downstairs her hosts had left her a note on the breakfast table saying they’d gone to work and would meet her later. She ate a bowl of Kelly’s homemade granola and some fruit and let herself out.

The walk home was a little slow, but she managed. Her bandages earned her a few odd looks, which she did her best to smile at and ignore. Fretting about Oscar’s whereabouts all the way home occupied most of her thoughts.

Once she was home, she checked the side stoop. The shattered glass and reddish brown smears on the walkway gave her a start, and she had to swallow a momentary wave of disgust. Her knees and shins twinged as she looked at the window frame with the remaining glass shards in it. Edging around them, she looked for the can of cat food on the steps her rescuers had left out for Oscar. It was licked clean and lying on its side, so she was hopeful. She called his name a few times with no answer.

Heading inside, she dropped the plastic bag with her bloody clothes on the floor and dumped her purse on the couch. Oscar came bounding down the hallway and threw himself against her legs in his happiness to see her. She winced but laughed aloud in relief and bent down to pet him. It was too awkward to pick him up one-handed, so she sat on the couch and rubbed his fur all over as well as under the chin in his favorite spot.

“Oscar! I’m so glad to see you! I was afraid you’d run away after yesterday. How did you get back inside?” A glance at the basement door showed it was ajar. “Did you jump back in through the window? You smart boy!” He lay down next to her, purring ecstatically and loudly. While she cuddled with him happily, she checked all of his paws carefully for damage and found none.
 

When she rose to go to the bedroom, she winced painfully and hobbled stiffly down the hall. She had just finished changing into something more her size when the Big Ben chime of the doorbell rang.

She made her way down the hall again and opened the door. Ruari stood on the front step looking devastatingly handsome in Gloria’s dark green polo shirt. His pleasant smile faded to a look of shock.

“Come in,” she said with an apologetic half smile, favoring her bandaged arm.
 

“What happened to you?” He blurted, looking stricken.

Her toffee brown eyes gazed at him with a hundred-year-old stare and a wry smile. “If you really want to know, I’ll tell you. Do you have time for a glass of iced tea?”

He followed her into the kitchen and set his toolbox down. She poured him a glass gingerly with her bandaged hand and got him sugar, ice, and a spoon. They sat at the dining room table. She began while he doctored his tea.

“Do you remember I told you I had a piano playing ghost named Anne? Well, when she was five, something really awful happened to her.” She told him the story and segued into the reliving of the anniversary of the terrible fire.
 

He listened solemnly before saying confusedly, “So you’re saying she possessed you?”

Marianne thought about it and shook her head. “No, not exactly. More like I got caught up in her memories, but you know what’s weird? She was never in the fire herself. At least not according to the newspaper article. She was outside the whole time. There was a neighbor who went into the basement and brought little Samuel out. So I don’t know why she relived it from the inside.” She paused thoughtfully, beginning to make some new connections.

After a moment she shook herself with a rueful laugh. “Anyway, I can tell you that hundred-year-old panic is just as potent as today’s panic. Her memories had me out that window faster than you can say jack rabbit.”

“Is that how you got hurt?”
 

His grey-blue eyes held such concern, it made her heart jump and her throat constrict. She swallowed her sudden longing. “Yeah, lots of band-aids, gauze, and more than a dozen stitches’ worth.” She tried to sound offhand.

He moved as if to get up but stopped himself, saying awkwardly, “I’m sorry you got hurt and hope you feel better soon. How about I fix the window? I got another piece of glass before I came.”

She levered herself up out of the chair gingerly, feeling her shins and knees stinging, and nodded. “That would be great.”

He brought the pane around to the side of the house from his truck. She got a broom and dustpan to sweep up the shards. They worked in companionable silence. Oscar joined them, jumping up on the ledge of the coal bin window, twitching his crooked tail, and watching them from the inside as Ruari cleared the broken pieces, placed the new pane, and pressed more glazing around the edges.
 

She sat on the stoop to watch him work when she was done. “How’s your carpentry going?”

“Pretty good. I’m almost done with the art piece I started a couple of weeks ago.”

“What kind of wood are you using?”

He looked at her, surprised by her interest, and said, “Cherry. I have a pile of odd pieces left over from different projects and that seemed like the right kind. It’s got a dark reddish brown color, a really beautiful grain, and smells sweet, like fruit. I like incorporating the colors and textures into the final piece.”

“Kind of how the Paleolithic cave painters used the texture and shape of the cave walls to make their paintings more three dimensional?”

He laughed in delight at her analogy. “Yeah! Kind of like that.”

She smiled, pleased that she’d pleased him. “When you’re not woodworking, what else do you like to do?”

He considered. “I like to hike and walk in the woods, but I haven’t had a lot of time to do that this summer.”

“I used to walk in the woods around my grandparents’ place in Vandenburg.” She smiled. “I have a lot of fond memories of Grandpa Clare telling me about plants and birds.”

“Well, if you ever want to walk again, I could give you some recommendations. I know some nice places.”

“That would be nice.”

His cell phone rang as he was finishing the glazing. SueAnn Talmadge’s sharp voice was clear all the way to the steps. He grimaced. “There was more work than I anticipated at Violet Lane. Yes, I’ll be late to the next job. Yes, I’ll get there before three. Yes. Yes.”

He looked at her regretfully. “Gotta keep moving. Sorry.” He got up and went inside to work on the dishwasher next. Fortunately, the part cooperated and went in relatively easily.

Marianne watched him work. “I know you’re running late. Could you restart the pilot light on the hot water heater? I didn’t want to touch it, and honestly I don’t really want to go down there right now.”

“Of course.” He returned in a few minutes and assured her that the tank was working fine and would take an hour or so to heat the water again.

“Let me know what the bill for the glass is. That shouldn’t go on Mrs. Thomas’ tab.”
 

He nodded.

They stood awkwardly at the front door, and he said hesitantly, “Would you…would you like to continue our conversation at another time?”

“Are you asking me out?” She inquired shyly.

He smiled and said, “Yes, I guess I am.”

She answered his smile with her own. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”

“Maybe in a couple of days when you’re feeling better?”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then.” She watched him go down the steps and get into his truck with an unfamiliar happiness bubbling inside. He waved as he made the turn and headed back up the street.