The Dragon's Song

by Claire Fogel

  “It was fine, love. You were right; people did stay out of your way. And so did every mailbox we passed. I’d say that car was a good choice.” He looked at me with a grin as I rolled my eyes.

  Nope. I would never live down that miserable mailbox. Not ever.

  The football team crowded through the door, laughing and bad-mouthing each other, the way all teenage boys seem compelled to do. Sean spotted us and came over while the rest of the team filled up two of the largest booths.

  “You’re back! When did you get home?”

  “This morning. You guys must have had practice this morning.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Coach is an early riser. No time for breakfast, so I’m starved now. Can I join you?”

  “Sure, have a seat. You know Adam.”

  “Hey, Adam.” Sean flagged the waitress and placed his order. “By the way, how did you get down here? I didn’t see your Mom’s car outside.”

  Adam and I smiled. “Did you miss that big, black car out front?” I asked.

  “THAT car? That’s yours? Holy crap, do you know what that is?”

  I laughed. “Well, other than it’s mine and I love it, no, I really don’t know what it is. Do you?”

  “That’s a Crown Vic Police Interceptor, big V-8, and it looks like the one the Chief was driving. It’s yours? Are you serious?” What was it about boys and fast cars?

  “It was the Chief’s car. My parents bought it for me. Chief O’Donnell thinks that car is perfect for me. He said it will protect me in many ways, quote, unquote.”

  “Well, yeah. I see his point. If anybody hits you, your car probably won’t get a scratch.” He looked at Adam. “How do you like it?”

  Adam smiled easily. “It’s very comfortable, so comfortable, Cara was doing fifty and didn’t realize it.”

  Sean nodded. “Yeah, those cars are fast. Gotta watch your speed. Well, congratulations on an awesome car. I hope you’ll take me for a ride in it sometime.”

  The waitress brought our burgers, fries and milkshakes, and we all dug in. There was no conversation for several minutes. Sean must have inhaled his first burger. He picked up the second one. “How was your week with your father? Are you all chilled out now? You look great.”

  I glanced at Adam. “Actually, I was feeling a lot better until yesterday.”

  “What happened yesterday? Oh, yeah, it rained. We had some thunder. Storms still bother you?” He sounded surprised.

  I nodded. “I can handle normal rain, but the heavy storms bring back too many bad memories. Adam thinks it’s still bothering me because I never talked about it much. So yesterday, I talked about it, all of it.”

  “And do you feel better now?” Sean asked softly.

  I shrugged. “I guess I won’t really know until the next big storm.”

  “I’m sorry. I had no idea it was still bothering you. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.” He looked guilty, as though he’d let me down in some way. He hadn’t.

  We finished eating. Talking about my rain problem had pretty much wiped out the good mood I’d enjoyed driving my new car.

  Sean walked out with us. “Please call if you need anything at all. Friends, right?”

  “Sure. See you in school next week.”

  Adam and I got into my new car, and I pulled away from the curb slowly, Sean watched from the sidewalk. He waved and walked back into The Grille.

  Adam and I didn’t talk on the way home. When he walked me to the back door, he squeezed my hand. “They’re only trying to help because they love you. They’ll respect your wishes. Just give them a chance, all right?”

  I nodded. “Okay. Thanks for your company.” I looked up into those intense dark blue eyes. “Sometimes it feels like you’re my anchor, you know? All of this would be a lot harder without you.”

  I stood on my toes, kissed his cheek, and walked into the kitchen where my parents waited for me.

  My parents sat at the table, cups of coffee in front of them. They both gave me reassuring smiles when I walked in.

  “Can I make you some lunch, dear?” Mom asked.

  “Adam and I ate downtown, but a cup of coffee and a piece of that cake would be good.” I filled a cup, cut a piece of cake and sat down with them. My somber mood was obvious, I’m sure.

  My father asked, “How do you like your new car?”

  So far, the car was the one bright spot in my day. “The car’s great. I really love it. Thank you both for buying it for me. It’s the perfect car for me; those mailboxes don’t stand a chance now.” I couldn’t resist.

  Mom gave me a narrow-eyed look, but Dad couldn’t hold back a laugh.

  “Chief O’Donnell left me a note. It’s really nice knowing who the previous owner was, especially when he’s the Chief of Police. Did Kevin really pick it out for me?”

  My mother nodded with a smile. “When I called Harry Callahan, he told me that the Police Dept. was retiring several of their police cars so Kevin and I went down to Chief O’Donnell’s office and he showed us the cars he was replacing. The others were all white; only the Chief’s car was black. Harry also told me that Tommy has always been conscientious about maintaining the department’s cars, so he thought any one of them would be a good buy. Mileage on the Chief’s car isn’t as high as the other vehicles either. Tommy let Kevin take it for a ride, and Kevin thought you’d love it. Tommy had it cleaned and detailed before he brought it over to us.”

  “I’ll have to thank Kevin too. It’s a powerful car. I really have to watch the speed so it doesn’t run away with me. Kevin was right. I love it.”

  I knew we couldn’t put off the conversation I’d been dreading any longer, so I looked at my mother to let her know I was ready to hear whatever she had to say about my problem with storms.

  She nodded. “This is actually good timing. I watched a special news program on Post Traumatic Stress a few days ago. You’ve heard of PTSD, haven’t you?”

  “Isn’t that mainly something that happens to people in the military? You know, the ones coming home from Iraq and Afghanistan?”

  “For the most part, yes, although PTSD is also being diagnosed for others who have been through terrible experiences. I think what you’ve been calling a ‘phobia’ is really a form of PTSD.”

  “Well, how do I get rid of it?”

  “The TV show I watched mentioned treatments like biofeedback training, meditation, yoga, psychiatric therapy, and medication, depending on how severe the condition is. Cara, we don’t think your condition is severe. The only time you have any symptoms at all is during heavy storms. The rest of the time, you seem fine. You sleep well, eat well, and you don’t seem depressed. I think Adam and your father had the right idea. Talking about it with people you trust is probably all the therapy you need.”

  “So you don’t think I’m a basket case?”

  “Of course not, dear.” She glanced at my father. “Considering everything you’ve gone through since last spring, I think you’re remarkably well balanced. We’re both very proud of you. I have some books and DVD’s at the store on relaxation techniques and meditation, which might help you handle storms in the future. I’ll bring some home and we can both try them. Meditation might be good for both of us.”

  That was a relief. I could handle meditation.

  “I was afraid you’d want me to see a shrink, Mom, and that’s not something I’d do willingly.” The thought of spilling my guts to some stranger horrified me. I could always talk to my close friends, but other than them, I had a definite thing about my privacy.

  My mother actually snorted. “I’m sure there are some therapists who actually do some good for people seriously in need of help, but I’m not a fan. I’ve always felt that common sense goes a long way towards solving most problems.” She stood up and poured more coffee for us.

  When she sat down again, she said, “Your fear of storms may go away eventually, or it may not. If it’s something you have to live with, you just need to learn some techni
ques that will allow you to handle storms more easily.”

  Dad was right. My mother was a very intelligent woman.

  “Thanks, Mom. That really helps. I’m willing to try meditation.”

  She leaned over and dropped a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll bring a DVD home and we can learn together. One very basic technique is just to concentrate on your breathing for a few minutes.”

  I got up and put my coffee cup in the dishwasher. “Dad, are you staying for dinner, or do you have to get back?”

  He looked at Mom.

  She chuckled. “Please stay for dinner, it’s spaghetti night.”

  My father grinned, and Mom added, “Better call Kevin.”

  Spaghetti night with three of my favorite people was just what I needed. “I’ll be upstairs. I have a few calls to make. I dropped a kiss on my father’s cheek on my way out of the kitchen, and he squeezed my hand, winking at me.

  I was so relieved, I flopped down on my bed as soon as I reached my room. I was okay. I wasn’t a nut case. I just had a little trouble with heavy rain. Not a big deal. I would meditate it away. Ralph curled up right next to me. Cuddling with my dog was also an excellent form of therapy.

  The first person I had to call was Kevin.

  “Hey, short stuff, welcome back! How do you like your new car?”

  “I love it. Thanks for picking it out for me. Why did you think it would be perfect for me?”

  He laughed. “I had visions of you racing through Thornewood, a whole flock of white police cars trying to catch you. Good thing you don’t have a lead foot, babe, because that car is fast.”

  “Yeah. I drove it to The Grille this morning and didn’t even realize I was doing fifty.

  By the way, tonight’s spaghetti night. You interested?”

  “Absolutely. Around six?”

  “Yep. See you then. If you’re really good, I’ll take you for a ride after dinner.”

  He gave an evil laugh. “I’m always good, babe. See you later.”

  My next call was, of course, Amy.

  “When did you get back? I’ve missed you.” She hesitated. “It’s been a rough week around here.”

  “I just got home this morning. I’ve had a few problems too. But what’s going on at your house? Any news about the fire at the bakery?”

  There was silence for about thirty seconds. “The police still consider it an arson case, but they haven’t found the arsonist yet. My parents are still talking about retirement rather than rebuilding the bakery.” She sighed. “They’re still nervous wrecks, so I’ve been staying close to home. I’m wondering how they’ll handle it when I go back to school next week.” She sounded kind of strange.

  “I’m so sorry. Your family doesn’t deserve this.”

  “No, they don’t. I was planning on calling you tonight. I was wondering if your father will be there.” She sighed again. “I have something to show him, something he’ll want to see.”

  Something was definitely wrong. “Sure. My father and Kevin are both having dinner with us tonight. Why don’t you join us? We eat around six.”

  She didn’t answer right away. “Actually, I think it would be better if I come over after you’ve had dinner. Would that be all right?”

  “Of course. Whatever time is good for you. We’ll be here.”

  She said she’d come by around seven and hung up. She didn’t sound like her usual upbeat self. Why did she want to see my father?

  I put it out of my mind and ran downstairs to make a salad.

  As always, spaghetti night was fun and we all ate too much. Kevin, of course, was making jokes about my driving, the universal threat to mailboxes, and the future safety of the citizens of Thornewood now that I was on the road. Mom kept shaking her head, rolling her eyes occasionally, while my father frequently choked on his spaghetti. I was sure Kevin now had enough new material to see him through senior year.

  We finished off spaghetti night with bowls of chocolate ice cream topped with whipped cream and nuts. After that, we all admitted we’d eaten too much and would need help getting out of our chairs. Naturally, that’s when there was a knock on the front door.

  I felt like I was rolling as I walked to the door. When I opened it, I found my other best friend standing there looking like her world was coming to an end. Since the bakery had burned down, that probably wasn’t far from the truth.

  I reached out to her and we hugged, Amy holding on to me longer than usual.

  I whispered, “I’m here for you. We’re all here for you, whatever you need. Come on in. We just finished dinner and I think Mom’s making a fresh pot of coffee.”

  She looked down at me and said, “Good. We’ll need it.”

  I took her hand and led her into the kitchen. Mom put the pot of coffee on the table and hugged Amy. She looked surprised to see the expression on Amy’s usually cheerful face.

  My father stood, came around the table and put one arm around my friend. He said, “You have good friends here, Amy. Don’t forget that.”

  She nodded. “I know, Mr. Blackthorne. Neal’s been telling me the same thing all week.”

  Kevin stood up, clearly disturbed by what he was seeing on Amy’s face. As soon as my father sat down, Kevin wrapped both arms around her. “Hey, Red. It can’t be that bad, can it?” She just closed her eyes for a few seconds.

  She sat down next to Kevin, her hand in his. She looked around the table at all of us. “I know I have the best friends in the world. But I’m learning that there are times when that might not be a good thing.”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out the new tablet she’d bought for our senior year. “Cara, have you checked your Facebook page since you got back?”

  “No. Why?”

  She opened Facebook on her tablet and handed it to me. Under private messages, there was this:

  “You and your family may have escaped the fire at your bakery recently. But there will be other fires. Your home could burst into flames some night when everyone is asleep. It’s doubtful you would escape that one. Of course, homes and businesses aren’t the only things that can go up in flames. Cars have been known to explode, killing everyone inside.

  You made poor choices when you chose your friends. For instance, your tall, thin friend, the one driving around in a new Jeep, might have survived being shot by an arrow. A gunshot won’t be as easy to survive. And, of course, there’s that Jeep he’s so proud of. I’d enjoy hearing it go “Boom,” especially if he’s inside it.

  Last but not least, your little friend Cara survived one kidnapping. She won’t survive the next. It might be fun to kidnap her mother as well. And there’s that lovely, old house her mother owns, just at the border of that forest I wanted to buy. Houses and forests are easy to burn, you know, but especially when their owners are inside with no way out.

  Mr. Blackthorne will learn how foolish he was to refuse my offer to buy a piece of Blackthorne Forest. And when I’m done punishing everyone who matters to him, he won’t have his precious forest either. I won’t leave a single tree, blade of grass, or weed standing.

  People who interfere with my plans will always pay a high price.”

  Amy added, “The name on the account is Gaynes Land Development.

  My stomach had quickly tied itself up in knots while she read the message. Kevin’s face tightened as he was reading the awful words over Amy’s shoulder. Her usually cheerful face was white, making her freckles stand out even more than usual.

  My father held out his hand and she handed the tablet to him. He read the message and said to Mom, “Alicia, please call Chief O’Donnell and ask him to come over here.”

  My father’s face was completely white while his green eyes looked like lasers. He looked as though he was ready to inflict some serious damage on Donald Gaynes.

  Amy and Kevin still held hands, dread evident in their faces. Mom stared at my father, not exactly angry, but frowning and wearing a “here we go again” expression. She called the Chief and he said
he’d be right over. My stomach was tied up in tight, painful knots. I was on the verge of losing my dinner.

  Mom poured the Chief a cup of coffee when he arrived, and Amy gave him her tablet. His frown got deeper as he read. Finally, he handed it back to her asking, “Are you on Facebook a lot, Amy?”

  She said she was. He nodded, explaining, “We’ve been monitoring Gaynes online activity since he left town, hoping to locate him, but there’s been no activity until now. When did you see this message?”

  “Last night. I guess he picked me because Cara and Kevin are hardly ever on Facebook.”

  Kevin snorted. “Yeah, I can only take so many cat videos.”

  The Chief looked at my father. “Brian, I’ll have patrol cars parked in front of this house, the Strauss home, and the Sinclair home tonight and every night until Gaynes is in jail. I know you’ll have your men out there too. Let’s meet in the morning and coordinate our efforts.” He turned to my friend. “Don’t worry, Amy; we’ll be covering this town like a blanket.”

  No one looked relieved. My father’s face looked like it had been carved out of stone. Chief O’Donnell told us once again not to worry, and I walked him to the door.

  When I got back in the kitchen, my father stood and headed for the back door. “I have to contact my men. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Even his voice sounded strange. Watching him walk out the door brought back that horrible unsafe feeling I’d had right after the kidnapping. For weeks I never felt safe unless my father was with me. This time, I wasn’t even sure that his presence would be enough. I felt cold, deep inside.

  Mom said softly, “I have a feeling we’ll be surrounded by Elves from now on. Your father is probably calling out every able-bodied man he has. Gaynes has pushed him too far.”

  Before Amy and Kevin left, Mom invited them over for Sunday brunch. “Since Cara’s father will be meeting with the Chief early tomorrow morning, I think he’ll want to meet with all of us afterward. We’ll need to know exactly what their plans are.” She attempted a smile. “So we might as well start our day with a good breakfast.”