Lighting the Flames (5 page)

“
I
so do not want to go outside.
”
He spoke on the exhale of his breath,
quieter than a whisper, like they
’
d done so many times
sneaking out during the summer. He
’
d leaned down so his
mouth was close to her ear, and when she turned her head to answer,
her nose brushed against his. He stood back.

“
Just for a second,
”
Gen mouthed at him.

He pointed at two crumpled wads of fabric resting in
a puddle. His gloves. The edges were almost steaming as they curled
over the front of the baseboard heater.

Gen shook her head at
him, then zipped her coat, flipped up the hood, and stepped out
onto the back porch. It wasn
’
t much of one, barely
big enough to hold the two of them.

He faced her once he
closed the door, his mouth drawn into a tight line beneath his
whiskers, his eyebrows low over his eyes.
“
Okay, so tell me: Why
do we need to go stand in the snow right now? You needed more
cold?
”

“
Ha.
No.
”
Gen was trying to find a place to stand where she could
look up into his face and keep her voice quiet, but not so close
that she was
…
too close. She gave up. Jeremy started to push his
hands into his pockets, but Gen grabbed his arm and pulled him
closer. He stilled the minute she touched him.

“
Remember those rumors we heard last year? Before you went
home? That camp might close?
”
Gen whispered, keeping her voice
quiet. Her words formed a white cloud and she looked down for a
second. She didn
’
t want to see them.

“
Yeah. I thought everything went fine this year. I
wasn
’
t here, but I didn
’
t hear anything
bad.
”

“
I
didn
’
t either, but I just overheard Rebecca say something to
Scott that maybe next year he wouldn
’
t have a
job.
”

“
Oh
…
shit.
”

“
Yeah.
”

They stared at each
other, no clouds between them. She shivered. Jeremy lifted
Gen
’
s hand from his arm and put it into his pocket. His fingers
covered hers completely, but she could feel how wet his pocket was,
the fleece within soaked like his gloves. What had he been doing,
rolling in the snow like a puppy?

Gen shook her head,
then tucked their joined hands into her own pocket, which was dry
and very warm from being above the heater for so long. Doing so
caused him to lean down closer to her, but her hands
weren
’
t cold, and his weren
’
t, either.

“
What can we do?
”
Gen asked, staring at precise line of
snow on the railing.

“
Dunno,
”
he said on a sigh, forming another cloud that blew
away from them.

“
You
think that
’
s why Scott had this crazy idea for a winter
camp?
”

“
Maybe.
”
Jeremy leaned back against the wooden banister. Their
hands were still joined, tucked into her pocket, and she allowed
herself to be pulled by his movement until she stood next to him,
leaning against his arm.
“
I figured part of it
was to prove that the facility had revenue potential in the
off-season.
”

“
Can
’
t be much revenue,
”
Gen said, still looking at the
snow.
“
It
’
s got to be expensive to keep the cabins and common areas
heated.
”

“
I
was just thinking about that.
”
He took a slow breath, and she felt
the movement of his body beside hers.
“
Some of
Scott
’
s assignments make more sense now.
”

“
Like what?
”

“
One
of the things I had to do today was hang signs in the cabins. A
reminder on each door to turn the heaters down to a lower
temperature when the activities are going on.
”

“
You
think families will do it?
”

“
No,
but Scott asked me to go around and check that
they
’
re set.
”

“
Watching every degree and every penny?
”

“
Yup. And keeping everyone safe. People put wet stuff on the
heaters.
”

“
You
don
’
t say.
”
She glanced at him with a smile.

“
Plus, there
’
s other little things, like only opening two
staff buildings instead of three
—
and now
there
’
s one with broken pipes and a ceiling to fix?
Ouch.
”

Gen felt a tightening
sensation in her chest.
“
Camp
can
’
t close,
”
she said, her voice equally tight and
strained.

“
I
agree. Let
’
s think about it and see what we can find
out.
”
Jeremy put his other arm around her and pulled her closer,
leaning his chin on top of her head the way he always had. The
weight of his arm and the scent of his hair were so familiar, she
could have closed her eyes and imagined it was summer. But the icy
cold of his hand tucked into hers told her it
wasn
’
t.

And on the heels of that realization came the
awareness of how much had changed. Those changes filled in the
space between them, and what had been easy and familiar became
stiff and awkward, and she had to move away. Jeremy squeezed her
fingers, then pulled his hand out of her pocket. He held the door
open for her, and they went back inside without saying a word.

Chapter
Two

Tuesday, December 16,
2014
—
25 Kislev 5775

First night of Hanukkah

Genevieve stood in the
back of the group of families gathered around a small table that
held an uneven pair of candles. The candles made her eyes burn a
little and she resented it, even though she was responsible for
them being there at all. That afternoon, as Jeremy was finishing
his unpacking, Scott had asked her to find the camp menorah. She
hadn
’
t thought there would be such a thing at Meira, it being a
summer camp, and had said as much. Jeremy had opened the adjoining
door to argue with her, and then he
’
d gone with her to
find it.

Everywhere
she
’
d walked that day, Jeremy had been beside her. It was like
d
é
j
à
vu, only fifty-plus degrees colder.

“
Never doubt a Jewish camp has emergency Judaica stashed
everywhere. I bet if we needed a menorah, a Torah, and a Jewish
statue from Bora-Bora we
’
d find them in
here,
”
Jeremy had said as he
’
d unlocked the
director
’
s summer cabin.

“
Bora-Bora? Not very Jewish.
”

“
Could have gone with hora, but I think
internationally.
”

“
Yeah. Worldwide, that
’
s
you.
”

“
Hey. Don
’
t be calling me wide,
”
Jeremy said over his
shoulder as he walked down the hall.

“
Wouldn
’
t think of it.
”

Genevieve resisted looking at his backside, mostly
because he was peeking over his shoulder and would see her if she
did. She resisted looking again when he bent down to snap the key
into the padlock bolted to the floor, and managed to not look to
see if his shirt rode up when he stood and reached up to turn on
the light.

She slipped past
without brushing against his body, knelt in the doorway, and
started pulling things off the bottom shelf. She wanted to
congratulate herself for her restraint, but it seemed like she was
the only one who was hyperaware of the electricity between them, so
her ability to avoid contact made her feel worse, not better.
Jeremy wandered off into another room, and she figured he had other
closets to search, or other buildings to check. There
wasn
’
t room for both of them in the doorway.

Sure enough, after
digging through boxes and plastic bags, Genevieve found a stash of
fat blue and green velvet boxes, the kind that housed items meant
for Jewish worship. Most of them were too small to be a
menorah
—
Shabbat candlesticks, maybe. She didn
’
t look inside. But at
the bottom of the stack was a big, heavy velvet box, and sure
enough, inside was a shiny brass menorah with scrollwork on each
arm, etched on every flat surface with vines, leaves, and tiny,
tiny flowers.

She picked it up and
gasped. The glimpse of her reflection, for a sliver of a second,
had looked like her mother
’
s face in the
gleaming metal.

“
What
’
s wrong?
”

Genevieve looked up.
She
’
d thought Jeremy had left.

“
You
stood around for all that time and didn
’
t help me
look?
”

Jeremy frowned at
her.
“
I just came back in. Was checking the windows to make sure
they were all sealed. It
’
s cold as hell in
here.
”

Genevieve looked down and carefully placed the
menorah in the box, wiping away her fingerprints with the sleeve of
her fleece pullover.

“
Gen. What
’
s wrong?
”

“
Nothing. It
’
s freezing in here. Let
’
s
go.
”
He helped her up, took the box from her hands, and locked
the closet again.

Now, a few hours
later, showered and changed and wearing nicer, warmer clothing and
yet still freezing, Genevieve was looking at that same menorah. It
was even shinier than when she
’
d found it, standing
alone on a white tablecloth, tall and beautiful, gleaming beneath
two candles. The darkness of the room made the light seem
liquid.

She lowered her head
so her hair would hide her face. The second anniversary of her
parents
’
deaths had passed on the calendar the week before, but the
anniversary on the Jewish calendar was Friday. The Jewish
anniversary, the
yahrzeit
, was harder
to face. Thinking about it left a dull burn inside her, the way her
eyes felt if she stared at the candle flames for too long without
blinking.

The prayers went on as Scott led the group in
welcoming Hanukkah, saying the blessings and using the tall center
taper to light the single candle for the first night. The gentle
murmured Hebrew moved around Genevieve like a ghost, and she closed
her eyes.

“
The
light we create does not extinguish, because these traditions came
before us, and will last beyond us,
”
Scott was
saying.

Genevieve
didn
’
t look up from behind her hair, still pretending to study
the copied pages that held the prayers and the service Scott had
written for the evening. Friday night, the beginning of the
yahrzeit
, would add another year of distance from mourning.
Time had moved on, moving her farther from easy memories. She
couldn
’
t think back like she had the first year and know her
parents had been there:
this
time last year, we were making candles. This time last year, we lit
the candles. This time last year, we were together.