Prairie Fire

by Djuna Shellam

  ~/~/~/~/~

  Loud doorbell chimes broke the quiet of the room, startling Em and Eve.

  “Holy shit!” Eve exclaimed, jolted by the unexpected doorbell. “What the hell…”

  Frozen in position, they turned their heads to the foyer and then to the large grandfather clock, noting it was 9:29 pm.

  “That’s weird,” said Em, pulling away from Eve and quickly straightening out her clothes. “Who could be here so late?”

  “Right?” Eve agreed, pulling her sweatshirt back over her head. “Damn, scared the holy fuck out of me.”

  The doorbell rang again just as the large clock began to chime that it was now 9:30 pm.

  “Are we expecting someone we forgot about?” Em asked, immediately thinking home invasion or kidnapping, and then more rationally, that someone had probably gotten lost. ”Should we be worried?”

  “No. Maybe.” Eve stood up and started toward the door. “Hang on, I’ll go see who it is.” She was none too happy about their lovemaking being interrupted. “Fuck.”

  “Don’t open the door if—” Em began, warning with urgency and a little bit of fear, though she didn’t know why. They had never had any trouble at the estate her entire life.

  “I know, babe. Don’t worry. I’m just going to ask who’s at the gate.” Eve strode to the door and looked through the peephole as she pressed the intercom to the gate. “Hello?”

  “Um, hi.” The intercom crackled slightly, but the voice was clear. “Is this where Em Martín lives?”

  Eve looked back at Em who had risen from the sofa and was making her way to the entryway to join Eve. She nodded, indicating to Eve that it was okay to say it was her home.

  “Who’s asking?” Eve asked, just to be safe, but Em already suspected to whom the voice belonged.

  “It’s Prairie. Prairie Vaughn. I, Em and I… we were friends many years ago.”

  “Buzz her in, Eve!” Em quickly moved to the front door, swiftly unlocked it and exited the house in her stockinged feet. Ignoring the rain, she walked as quickly as she was able toward the gate, which was at least a hundred yards away. She stopped midway between the house and the gate as Prairie’s vehicle trundled slowly into the courtyard.

  ~/~/~/~/~

  Somewhat puzzled, Eve stood just underneath the portico, protected from the rain, watching the scene unfold before her. The late model SUV entered the estate slowly before coming to a stop right where Em was standing, and parked behind Em and Eve’s green Range Rover.

  The driver’s door opened immediately, and a woman of average height, wearing what appeared to be a track suit, quickly exited the vehicle. She and Em embraced heartily, swaying back and forth. Eve couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she knew all about Prairie. Even if she hadn’t known, it would have been made abundantly clear from their body language that Prairie and Em were old friends and former lovers with an enduring fondness for one another. They eventually broke apart and immediately engaged in what appeared to be a serious conversation. Eve desperately wanted to join them, but thought she should wait for a proper introduction.

  Em’s head tilted quizzically over something Prairie had shared with her. While Eve tried to discern Em’s cause for concern, Prairie opened the passenger door behind the driver’s seat and disappeared into the vehicle for at least a minute, perhaps longer, and emerged with what appeared to be a bundle of… Was that a child?

  22.3—The Bomb

  Back inside the house, while Eve was in the kitchen making tea, Em sat at the far end of the sectional sofa waiting with trepidation for an explanation of Prairie’s visit. Prairie sat next to the mystery child, who was wrapped in blankets and sleeping soundly at the end of the largest section of the sofa nearest the fire. There was no small talk in the meantime. Something big was happening and small talk just wouldn’t cut it. Em’s brain wracked with questions. Why was Prairie showing up without any warning—after more than fifteen years—in the middle of a rainy night? More important, why did Prairie have a toddler with her? And who was he? Em’s mind was churning with questions at warp speed.

  As they waited in silence, Prairie couldn’t help but notice how great Em looked. Stunning, really. She was six years younger than Prairie, but she looked ten, perhaps even fifteen years younger. She had but a hint of gray in her black hair, which was still curly, thick and shiny as ever. She was trim, tan and obviously happy with Eve. As ever, Em’s eyes were still as big and beautiful as Prairie remembered them. The scar on her face was all but invisible, as was her limp, though Prairie was more likely than most to notice both. She was extremely pleased to see Em no longer used a cane, something she never would have predicted twenty years before.

  “Here we are,” Eve declared as she arrived with a tray of cups, a pot of tea and other essential tea accoutrement. “Shall I be the mother?”

  Em nodded. She usually played “mother” when serving tea as Fiona had taught her years ago, but in this instance she was happy to let Eve serve. Prairie smiled at Eve’s reference, remembering that Fiona had taught her the English tea ritual and concluded she must have taught Em as well.

  Em waited patiently until Eve prepared the tea to each of their likings, though every part of her being was jumpy with anticipation.

  “Prairie, sweetie, you look great, and I’ve missed you terribly, but…” Em began, so happy to see Prairie after nearly twenty years, but feeling terribly unsettled about her impromptu visit. Prairie looked almost the same except for her hair and the obvious signs of age in the way of just a hint of lines on her face. No longer fiery red, Prairie’s hair was significantly white, with just a touch of the familiar red sprinkled throughout. There were so many emotions stirring, Em truly felt physically ill, and more so by the minute.

  Prairie exhaled slowly, puffing her lips out. She quickly ran her fingers through her short, slightly spiked hair, scrubbing it as if to rid her brain of the unpleasantness yet to come. She hemmed and hawed for about a minute as Em and Eve waited anxiously. This was not something she ever wanted to do, and the fact that she had to was killing her inside. She took a sip of tea and set the cup down. She looked at Em, then Eve, and then at the sleeping child.

  “That little guy over there is Liam. William Emmet McIntyre is his, um, full name. And… he’s Fiona’s,” Prairie said, choking back her emotions.

  Em reeled back and gasped. Eve, who knew only a little about Fiona, sat silently, waiting for a shoe to drop or, whatever dramatic thing that was about to happen, because she knew that’s where the scene unfolding right before her eyes was going, and fast. The electricity in the air had just crackled on to high.

  “I don’t understand, Prair—”

  “Em…” Prairie began gently, dreading her role with every bit of her, “Emmy… I don’t know how to say this. I… just…” Prairie was scared to say it out loud, but she had to do it. She had to.

  “Four days ago… Fiona died,” Prairie said so softly she almost couldn’t hear herself. The hush in Prairie’s voice and the seriousness of her words sent a jolt through Em. For a moment, the room spun and Em thought she might pass out.

  “What?” Em clutched her chest and Prairie knew exactly what she was feeling. Em began to panic. Fiona was dead? DEAD? “How?” Em said, barely audible.

  Eve’s breath caught as she grabbed Em’s arm. Tears began to flow freely from Em’s eyes as Prairie continued quietly, delivering her news. It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t. No, no, no, no!

  “She had a massive heart attack,” Prairie shook her head, still unable to fully believe the truth herself. “She and Liam were home together—alone—and she must have known something was happening because she called 911.” Prairie fought back her own tears, thinking about Liam and Fiona, wishing she had been there for them. “They found her in her easy chair, with Liam asleep in her arms.” Tears began to flow down Prairie’s cheeks.

  No one said anything while they let that information and the image sink in.

  She continued,
“The paramedics said the front door was unlocked and open when they got there, so they figured she called 911 and then sat down to wait with Liam, and then just… died,” Prairie whispered. “They found my name and number on the table beside her chair.” Prairie shook her head. “She knew something bad was going to happen.” Em and Eve looked at her quizzically.

  “About a year and a half ago she gave me a thick manila envelope for safe keeping she said. After she… well, when I looked to see what she had given me, it was her will, Liam’s birth certificate, her banking information, life insurance papers, guardianship documents…”

  Once again Em’s head began to spin, and then the room. She loved Fiona so deeply, and if not for “The Unspeakable” and the intense feelings between them that needed to be carefully governed to avoid a certain rekindling, they might have remained in better contact. Fiona was dead? Em just couldn’t wrap her mind around the concept that Fiona was truly gone. Gone. Em couldn’t believe it. She was only forty-six. She refused to believe it. Em stood up and began to pace. “No, no, no… No!” she exclaimed and then quickly lowered her voice, remembering Liam. “I’m sorry, I just—”

  “Babe.” Eve got up and quickly moved to Em, “Honey,” Eve said softly, reaching out for Em.

  Em attempted to wave her off, but fell into Eve’s embrace, grief-stricken and sobbing.

  “I was her ICE,“ Prairie continued, battling her own emotions. “Her In Case of Emergency, and now… I’m the executor of her will,” Prairie exhaled heavily. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Em wasn’t comprehending anything Prairie was saying as she continued to weep in Eve’s arms. Eve looked at Prairie quizzically.

  Prairie looked directly at Eve and explained, “I have to carry out all of Fiona’s wishes and instructions. She asked me. It’s my… job. I have to… put her affairs in order.” Prairie stifled a sob.

  “What does that mean, Prairie? Why?” Eve questioned and then looked at Liam while she held Em, trying to comfort something in her that could not be comforted.

  “The most important part of the job, if you will, is Liam.” Prairie was so afraid how the next part of this horrible night was going to go, she just didn’t want to go there. If she thought it would make everything better, or make the nightmare just go away, she’d pick Liam up and walk right out the door.

  “And the thing is…” She took a deep breath and dropped the bomb. “Fiona named Em as Liam’s legal guardian should anything happen to her,” Prairie said, answering Eve. “She named me the executor of her will, but Emmy…” Prairie addressed the still weeping Em, “Em, sweetie, she wanted you to raise Liam. She loved you so much, respected you, and felt that of anyone she’d ever known, you would be the perfect person to give him the stable and loving home he deserves. It was her plan from the moment she made the decision to have him—you know, in case anything happened. To her. She loved that you and Eve had found each other and felt that together, the two of you could… would… well, it’s what she wanted.”

  Prairie nodded to herself knowing it was true. She never questioned Fiona’s wishes, knowing that even though she loved Liam as if he were her own flesh and blood, her lifestyle of traveling with sports teams most of the year was no life for a child. She was too selfish and self-absorbed to teach another human being not to be selfish and self-absorbed. Prairie made a fabulous aunt, but she also knew she would make a terrible mother.

  “Wait…” Em looked frantically from Prairie, to Eve, to the pile of blankets and child and back to Prairie. “She what?” Em was entering a state of panic. “Me? A mother? Oh, no, I can’t possibly…” Em looked around the room with desperation in her eyes, then crumpled to the floor, slow-motion style with a soft landing, thanks to Eve, who kept her from hitting the floor with all of her weight.

  ~/~/~/~/~

  An hour later, still in a state of shock, but now sitting on the far end of the sofa, as far from Liam as Em could manage, Em tried to concentrate on what Prairie was saying, but her mind was going a mile a minute. She and Eve had agreed, rather, she had given in to the idea that Eve would try to get pregnant. That plan fell apart when they learned Eve was infertile. Em knew how important it was to Eve to be a mother, and if that’s what Eve wanted, Em wouldn’t have stopped her.

  It had been a difficult concession for Em to make, but she loved Eve so deeply, she would have done whatever Eve needed her to do—even if that something was the last thing Em ever contemplated for her own life. Em didn’t want to give birth herself, but she would for Eve. But now, she wondered, how would this little boy, this stranger, affect their lives as a couple? She didn’t ask for this. More than anything else, Em didn’t understand how she didn’t know Fiona had a child in the first place. Fiona called her every single birthday since they’d first met in Highland Park. Why had she failed to mention this huge event in her life the last, what, two birthdays?

  There was a part of Em that was hurt that Fiona had kept this important and monumental event from her; but above all, Em felt such a deep sadness thinking she would never hear Fiona’s voice on her birthday, or any day, ever again. A wave of missing Fiona was about to crash over Em when Prairie’s hushed voice cut through Em’s mental anguish.

  22.4—Falling

  “He’s two and almost a half—he’ll turn three July 3rd, and… he’s just a wonderful little boy,” Prairie began, needing to tell Liam’s new parents all about how special he was, and what a tremendous gift Fiona had given them. Prairie’s genuine love for him was evident to both Em and Eve.

  Prairie continued, “The older he gets, the more he reminds me of Fiona. It’s uncanny. He’s so much like her with his little Fiona quirks. So cute.” This is so hard, she thought. Make it be a bad dream…

  “Liam’s amazingly well-behaved,” Prairie explained once Em and Eve began to process that they were the instant parents of a little boy. “He’s incredibly well-mannered, potty trained already, which, trust me, is a big deal for boys. Honestly, he’s really quite civilized for a toddler.” She chuckled softly. “I should know after having been around my nephews. I have nieces and nephews and the nephews, they’re… hellions compared to Liam. He’s already so clever and funny… and so incredibly bright.”

  Prairie began to choke up, thinking of Fiona. She was the only woman Prairie had ever loved so deeply and completely, and now she was dead, and her baby boy wouldn’t remember her. Any hopes Prairie had of the three of them someday riding off into the sunset together died four days earlier with Fiona. It was almost more than she could bear; but more than her own personal grief, Prairie had to make sure Liam was safe and loved. He deserved that.

  “I’d take him in a minute—and by that I mean I’d fight you for him—if my life and I were different, but it’s not and I’m not,” Prairie admitted with passion and genuine regret. “He needs to be with someone who will love him, nurture him and give him every opportunity possible.” She was getting emotional, but needed to keep herself together.

  “He has a pretty nice trust fund Fiona set up when he was born,” Prairie continued, “so it wasn’t about your money, Em. It’s about him having a family who will love him as their own. Fiona chose you to do that. She chose you and Eve. That was the one thing she talked about all the time when the subject of you would come up—how happy she was for you and Eve, and how she knew if the time ever came, you would make a home for him.”

  Em looked at the sleeping child, who at that moment was just a beautiful little cherub, and dove headlong into an immediate state of deep denial. None of it was real. Fiona was alive in San Francisco. This was a terrible, awful prank, and Prairie was going to Hell for trying to punk her. Em closed her eyes. She was about to be consumed with anxiety.

  “What about a funeral?” Eve asked out of normal curiosity, but also in an effort to take some of the immediate focus off of Em and the boy.

  Prairie cast her eyes down to the floor and sadly admitted, “There won’t be one.” She hated that fact, but she could no
t change Fiona’s mind. Fiona didn’t want a memorial service, a funeral… nothing. “She wanted her ashes spread, unceremoniously, in Puget Sound. Just me, a small boat, and, her, er, um… remains.”

  Em snapped out of her panic trance. “No. That’s not right, Prairie. She deserves to be remembered and memorialized. She was… she was a wonderful person. Friend. Artist… A great mother…” On that Em wasn’t sure, but based on Prairie’s description of Liam, it had to be true.

  “I’m with you, Em, but she was adamant. Her immediate family is all gone, and she was pretty much a loner. Other than her clients, who she kept strictly as business relationships, you could count her friends on two fingers—you and me.” Saying it out loud hit Prairie hard. She’d known it was true for almost their entire relationship, but now that Fiona’s life was over, it was difficult to accept.

  Prairie bowed her head and began to weep softly for the first time since she learned about Fiona’s passing. Tears had fallen in abundance since she first learned of Fiona’s death, but she hadn’t truly wept, afraid of what would happen if she allowed herself to let go. Em immediately went to her, sat next to her and pulled Prairie into her arms. “Oh, Prair, I know, I know.” They cried together for their long-time friend as Eve looked on, shedding her own, silent, sympathetic tears. She had never met Fiona, but Eve knew she was important to Em. It hurt her to see the woman she loved so grief-stricken.

  In all of the commotion and emotion, Prairie had forgotten about probably the most important delivery next to Liam—the envelope. Fiona had left the envelope for Prairie to give to Em if anything happened to her, and according to the attached note, Prairie was to deliver it “straight away,” but the whole scene was too much and Prairie forgot. She went to her bag and pulled out a large manila envelope.