He stayed right where he was with his red light flashing and his siren blasting. I parked a respectable distance behind the fire trucks, and before I could move the not-so-nice officer stood at my door. He had his hand on his holster, which I didn’t think at all necessary.
I stepped out and saw Brett. The cop asked for my license and registration and told me to keep my hands where he could see them. I handed over my license, then waved frantically to Brett.
Something was seriously wrong. I could feel it. Like a premonition of impending doom. I wasn’t playing drama queen, but I just knew he should not go into that building. “Brett!” I called. “Stop. I need to speak to you.”
He saw me waving at him and stopped hauling the hose. “What the hell?” He continued carrying the big, heavy thing, and called over his shoulder, “Go home. I have a fire to fight.”
I was still searching for my registration to give the cop. “I know,” I shouted back to Brett. “I don’t want you going in there.”
The cop turned to me. “He’s a firefighter. That’s his job, Ma’am.”
“Yes, but he’s already been severely burned saving someone’s life.” I chewed my bottom lip. “Please let me go. I need to stop him.”
“I can’t do that, Ma’am. And if you distract him any more he won’t be able to concentrate, now will he?”
The cop had a point. “You ran a red light,” he said, writing up a ticket, “you were speeding, and then ignored my siren and flashing red light, refusing to pull over.” He was scribbling fast. “That’s three tickets that I can think of, right off the top of my head.”
“Just write them up.” I said sweetly. “I’ll be right back.”
“Stay where you are. You’re not going anyplace.”
I dodged around him, and ran off. “I’ve gotta stop him. I’ll be back.” The police officer took off after me, and I’d just reached Brett when he pounced.
“You’re under arrest.” He grabbed my hands and put them behind my back, handcuffing me.
Brett stopped, and looked at me. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Don’t go in there,” I warned. “It’s going up.”
“I have to. I’ll be all right, don’t worry.” He turned to the officer. “Let her go. She’s just a screwball.”
The officer began hauling me away.
“I love you,” I yelled back at Brett. But he was gone.
Brett neared the building when a huge roar was heard and flames engulfed the building. He jumped back about a foot from the force of the explosion, and ran back to me.
“How did you know?”
I shrugged. “Premonition? I’m psychic? Hell, I don’t know. Oh, Brett, I just felt it, and I was so scared. I knew you would have been killed.” As I looked at the inferno, I began to shiver. “I think once the smoke clears, you’ll be safe.”
“Okay, calm down. Can you see anything else?”
I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate. A little girl. Trapped. “Yes. Oh, God, Brett. You have to save her. A little girl is up there hiding.”
The police officer removed my handcuffs. “Sorry about the cuffs. Just don’t give me a reason to use them, okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
“I’m a big fan of Medium. Now concentrate,” he said to me. Brett took me by the arms and forced me to focus. “Look for the elevator. Can you see a floor?”
“I don’t know. I just see her.”
“You can do this, Susie. I know you can.” He spoke slowly, as if his melodious voice might put me into a trance. I hoped he was right. “I want you to take yourself out of her room. Go to the elevator. Look for a number.” I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated so hard I thought my brain would burst.
“Uh-huh.” I grinned, jumping in excitement. “Six, I see six.”
“Anything else? Any apartment number?”
“No…not yet.” He took off on a run. I watched him go, and the police officer stared straight ahead.
“Have you still got those tickets?” he spoke out of the side of his mouth.
I nodded. “Give them to me.” I handed them over, still too frightened about Brett to say a word. He ripped them in shreds. “So, how does this psychic thing work, anyway? How did you know this place was gonna blow?”
“I didn’t, not for sure. I’m a little new at this seeing into the future.”
He scowled and rubbed his jaw. “You sure you didn’t have anything to do with the fire?”
I looked at him like I wanted to punch a hole right through his face. “Are you nuts? You think I want the man I love to run into that inferno to save someone? His life is in danger, right this very minute.”
He had the decency to look ashamed. “No, I guess not.”
The entire building was ablaze, with him inside. I comforted myself with the reminder that after the explosion I’d felt it was safe—that the building wouldn’t claim any more lives. I coughed from the smoke.
“How many men are in there, do you think?”
“I don’t know, Ma’am, but you need to step aside. There’s nothing you can do. Go home.”
“I can’t.” Tears pricked the back of my eyes, but I bucked up. “I’m not leaving him. I need to be here.”
“Look, lady, this is no place for you.” His voice was gentle, the way he’d speak to his daughter, which I somehow knew he had. “Go back to your car. Drive home. Watch it on TV.”
“Not yet. I’m sorry, I can’t.” I stuck my hands into my pockets like a kid. “I’ll just move a little further back, but I’m not leaving.” I joined the throng of people who’d gathered on the sidewalk and the street.
The situation was chaos as people fled the burning building and tried to reunite with their loved ones outside. All around me I could hear screams and crying, and sirens, as ambulances came and went. There was no sign of Brett.
What seemed like hours crept by. It was probably only long, agonizing minutes, but one by one I watched the men in uniforms emerge. They were black with soot, mostly unrecognizable, but I spotted one walking out of the fire holding a child, and I just knew it was Brett.
I tried to run to him, but was held back by a row of police officers keeping the onlookers at a safe distance. I shouted to him but he didn’t hear me. My insides were exploding with pent-up emotions. All the fear and dread I’d been holding in for hours burst out of me, and I shook so badly I could barely stand.
With a lightened heart and nearly unbearable joy, I watched him hand over the child to the paramedics and walk slowly away. I made my way through the crowd, back to the street and found my car. I wanted to drive over to his house, to be with him, to see that he was all right, to feel him with my hands, and know that he was still warm and alive, but I couldn’t.
He’d been through hell tonight and would want to be alone. As much as I wanted to be with him, the fact was—he didn’t want me. The moment I got to my car I used my cell to call Caitlin.
“He’s all right,” I shouted into the phone. “I was at the fire, and I saw him. He’s fine,” I blubbered. “He saved a little girl’s life.”
“Oh, Susie. Thank you, thank you!” Her voice shook and I could hear her crying. “I’ve been watching it on the news, and of course, we didn’t know anything.”
“I know. You must have been going crazy.”
“Yes. I can’t thank you enough. Your calling is an enormous relief.”
“I know. I’m shaking like a leaf. I think I’ll just sit here for a few minutes until I calm down. I can’t drive like this.”
“Take deep breaths. One, two, three. There, is that better?”
“No. It’s going to take longer than a minute.”
“So, tell me. What are you doing at the fire?”
I gave a shaky laugh. “I was stalking him.”
“Stalking? Susie, that doesn’t sound good.” She chuckled. “I know you had your reasons, and whatever they were, I’m on your side.”
“Thanks, hon. That means a lot to me
.”
“Everything will work out, Susie. I’m sure. Don’t worry.” Somehow I knew she was right, and I felt almost lighthearted again. Brett loved me. Maybe he just needed a little time and space to figure it out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I called Delta and arranged an earlier departure date. I had given Brett a day to call me and he hadn’t, and I was not going to pursue a man who didn’t want to pursue me. If he wanted to see me again, he could look me up.
In Italy.
I said all my goodbyes to my girlfriends at the Candy Bar, and Melody was taking care of my apartment and Merrybell for me. I checked in my two overweight bags, paid the extra airline charge, and went through the long line at security. As I waited at the international departure gate, my excitement increased. I was about to start a dream journey of a lifetime.
Before my classes at the institute began, I did a whirlwind tour. I spent three nights in Rome, then hired a driver to take me to the seaside town of Positano. It was an ancient town built into a mountain, with terraces sloping down toward the sea, and stunning panoramic views.
I drank espresso from thimble-sized cups, and learned to like it. I wandered among the narrow-arched shopping streets, eating, drinking, shopping, and soaking it all in. I meandered down the winding coastal path to Marina Grande and could see the entire gulf, and the brilliant color of the azure sea.
It was beyond a dream. It was like a rebirth.
I took a ferry over to the Isle of Capri, visited the famed Emerald Grotto, and saw colors so deep and vivid that as an artist I could only be envious.
Every day was filled with unfamiliar scents and tastes, and at night I would step out on the balcony of my hotel and watch the sunset. The entire Amalfi coastline was of such staggering beauty it stole my heart away. The week ended much too quickly, and with a touch of regret I left the coast and flew to Florence to begin my next adventure. The AEF, as I quickly learned to call the school, was situated right in the heart of historic Florence, mere steps from the cathedral and the Piazza Duomo.
The location was perfect, with a train station a short walk away, and everything within an easy reach. Florence, the capital of Tuscany, began the Italian Renaissance. Geniuses such as Leonardo da Vinci and Michelangelo found something to inspire them in this beautiful city, and if it was good enough for them, it was okay by me.
The school assisted in finding nearby, inexpensive housing, and provided tutoring in Italian. We also had free internet access and classes in language, music, art and culture. It was a relaxed atmosphere in which to learn. During the month we had day trips arranged to see concerts, films, and visits to various museums.
Parties were included, as were dinners and wine-tasting events, allowing the foreigners to interact with the locals. I was kept so busy between meeting new people, making new friends, classes and cultural events, that I had no time to think of Brett or my life back at home.
Well, not much time. I did keep in touch with my girlfriends via the Internet, and heard from Melody. She still worked at Dad’s clinic, and drove Mrs. Carlisle to church on Sundays. Billy went with her.
Nobody mentioned Brett and I didn’t ask. My life was full. Too full for romance or worrying about what might have been or what the future held. I was living in the now.
It was a hectic, exciting time, and I threw myself into everything wholeheartedly. I had only signed up for the watercolor and oil painting courses, but added a sketching class so I could join the other students as they wandered around the city, drawing views of everyday life.
In the oil painting class we learned the technique of life compositions, which included the use of live models. Since it was a learning experience I studied the anatomy and tried not to blush as a gorgeous man disrobed and stood for hours while we ogled and painted him.
At the end of each session the AEF hosted a student art exhibit which displayed our best works. Not only were our paintings hung throughout the walls of the school, but in other locations around the city. I’m proud to say that my paintings were prominently displayed, and without prejudice, easily the best.
* * *
I returned to Florida six weeks after I’d hurriedly departed. Six weeks might have been six years.
I was different, and viewed people in a way I never had before. I saw them for what they were, not for what I wanted them to be.
Leanne told me an art therapist at her hospital had moved to Atlanta, and they were looking for a replacement. It sounded like something I might enjoy, so I let her introduce me around the ward, and I painted my face to amuse the kids.
“So, you a clown, or what?” one brave boy asked me.
He had reddish-blonde hair, freckles on his nose, a smart-ass grin, and looked perfectly fine until you glanced down at his bed. He’d lost the bottom half of his leg from a shark bite, and it was amputated at the knee. He was quite the hero on the ward; all the kids wanted to hear about the shark who’d taken off his leg. He’d been boogie-boarding with a couple of friends in four feet of water in the Florida Panhandle when the shark attacked. His buddy smacked the mammal with his fists, the shark had released him, and they made it to shore. It had been the second shark attack in that area in the past couple of weeks.
“No, but I did work for a singing telegram company who had me dress up like a bumblebee.”
“That’s goofy,” he said.
A little girl of about five asked, “Could you pretend to be a bumblebee? What did you have to do?” I told her about my costume, my stingers and my transparent wings. I asked her name, she said it was Alex, and I sang her the birthday song. She was all smiles after that.
“Okay, kids. I have brought you finger paints and some acrylics. Who would like to do some painting?”
The kids looked at each other, and I saw one shrug. “I don’t know how to paint, except paint by number.”
“That’s fun too, but I’ll show you. It doesn’t matter what you paint, or how it looks, it’s about dabbing a little color here, and a little color there. Like this.” I drew an ice cream cone and the kids laughed. “Okay. Let’s do some happy pictures. Think about what makes you smile, or the things you like best.” I could see their minds busy at work so I made a few suggestions. “Balloons, your favorite pet, presents under a tree, whatever makes you feel good inside.”
The kids got into the spirit of the game very quickly and came up with ideas of their own. Soon they were all painting and having fun, and I knew that I’d stumbled on something that would bring meaning and joy to my life. Brett might say the kids were an extension of my “people pity” and that once again I was surrounding myself with people less fortunate than myself, but he was wrong.
They were strong and resilient, and I was learning from them. The hospital had an excellent program to entertain the kids—singing, music, balloon sculpturing, magic, juggling shows, and pet therapy, all voluntary services.
As much as I enjoyed bringing a smile to the young faces, I needed to make an income too. I did some research online and found some interesting ideas to present to the board of directors. I wanted to commission the hospital to do a mural, and if that went well, I hoped further down the road to create a Fairy Sparkle Forest Garden—a sanctuary for both patients and staff to escape the reality and stress of the ward in a relaxing wonderland.
Leanne was very enthusiastic of both ideas and said she’d garnish all kinds of support. All I had to do was present the idea to the board. Well, no worries. Confidence is now my middle name.
I dressed conservatively in a cream-colored suit and wore my hair in a classic French roll, giving the illusion that I was both sophisticated and more experienced than my tender years. I carried a portfolio to display the murals I painted for Fran and Candy, and included photocopies of my paintings from Italy, as well as the glowing reports from my instructors at AEF. My paintings had also been selling well lately, and I had the receipts from my recent sales.
When at last I was ushered into the room, everyone
had taken their seats at the conference table. The only empty seat was at the head of the table, and someone quickly informed me that the chairperson would arrive soon, but was held up in another meeting.
When she walked into the room my mouth fell open, then clamped shut. It was the neighbor lady that my father had been making out with in my dear sister’s den. She stopped when she saw me, and I watched the arrogance on her face disappear. A heated flush spread up her neck and crept along her tightly-stretched, flawless face. My confidence soared. I stood up, shook her hand, and looked her in the eye. “Good afternoon, Ms. Goldstein.”
“Ms. Jensen,” her eyes didn’t quite meet mine. “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. Please have a seat.”
I did, smiling sweetly, knowing that whatever I asked would be mine.
* * *
I paid a final visit to Helga to say she could finally retire. Luckily for her, I wouldn’t require her services anymore. I told her all about my Italian adventure, and my new job at the hospital.
“Susie. You have grown into a fine young woman at last. I am so proud of you.” She was such a sweet lady, even when she was at her most annoying best. We sipped on tea and ate finger sandwiches while I entertained her with stories of Florence.
After about an hour of my company, I noticed her shoulders were slumped and that she’d drifted off. I left her in peace.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The following day I was in the children’s ward, making my rounds. I heard about a little girl with second and third degree burns on her lower extremities, and she’d been in the hospital for over a month. I decided to pop in and cheer her up.
I pushed open the door and walked in. I nearly tripped over my own feet when I saw Brett sitting in the chair next to the patient. The girl’s name was Kim Riley, and without being told, I knew she was the one he’d carried out of the fire. The balloons I carried flew out of my hands.
Reacting quickly, I made a grab for them and stumbled against the bed. Brett’s back was to the door, and he didn’t see me at first.
The Candy Bar Complete - 4 book box set: Candy Bar Series Page 45
