by Barrett
Other Books by Barrett . . .
The Damaged Series
Book 1: Damaged in Service
Book 2: Defying Gravity
And coming in 2014 . . .
Book 3: Dispatched With Cause
Novellas
Windy City Mistletoe
A Zeke and Anne story
Balefire
Barrett
Bedazzled Ink Publishing Company • Fairfield, California
© 2013 Barrett
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced or transmitted in any means,
electronic or mechanical, without permission in
writing from the publisher.
978-1-939562-23-4 paperback
978-1-939562-24-1 ebook
Cover Design
by
TreeHouse Studio
Nuance Books
a division of
Bedazzled Ink Publishing Company
Fairfield, California
http://nuancebooks.bedazzledink.com
Silke Dyson is a sculptor who is dealing with impaired vision as a result of a physical assault. Kirin Foster is a pragmatic travel magazine writer with wonderful opportunities to see the world. Their lives collide at thirty-thousand feet during a tropical storm and they strike up a friendship under the Belize sun.
Much to their delight, they discover they both live in Milwaukee and, back home, they develop an easy rapport amidst common interests and friends. Sometimes a random spark of kindness or caring can spark a small flame. With patience and opportunity, this small flame can grow into a balefire, a beacon of hope to guide a pair of souls to their true home.
Acknowledgments
Right out of the gate, I would like to thank my dear friend, Mandy for sharing some excellent travel adventures. This story came about because of one of those “real life adventures” that was both terrifying and rewarding. We have laughed about it over the years.
The real resort is the creation of Karen and Ernie Olmstead. It is my go to happy place and perfect writers retreat.
Exactly one year ago, I began working on a story about Belize. In between revising two other books and a novella, I finished the book. Actually, I completed the story in May and had a kind of tropical storm with pre-reads.
By the end of August, I whipped it into shape and turned it in.
What you are holding now is a story that is very dear to me in many ways. The scenes in Wisconsin and Belize resonate deeply with events from my life.
I want to thank the very talented Ruth Perkinson for her editorial assistance. Sally Bellerose for fact checking. Speed and Natty for their suggestions.
I am supported by the strong arms of some wonderful fellow writers including Sandra, Bev, Baxter, Ann, Salem, and of course, my CP, Cathy.
Courage comes from love and laughter, which I receive an abundance from the F.O.W.H. Lodge 251. Oorah and TOTS!
Most of all, I wish to thank my very patient editor, C. A. Casey for her encouragement and teaching, as well as Claudia Wilde, my wise publisher.
And without you, my very supportive readers, we would not be having this kumbaya moment. Thank you all for sticking with me as I live my dream.
Barrett
November 2013
“Across storm tossed seas, the flickering glow
from the Balefire safely draws lost travelers.”
Chapter One
“I CAN’T BELIEVE she did this to me.”
Brake lights.
“Crap.” Kirin Foster frantically glanced over her right shoulder, flicked the turn signal, and swerved into the next lane.
“Dammit, Melissa. There’s nothing I can do about that now,” she yelled into her Bluetooth. “No. Hey, just call the condo management and tell them the air conditioning is broken and get someone to fix it.”
Horns blared from cars behind her.
“Listen, I’m in traffic, I can’t deal with that right now. Just handle it. Fine. I’ll call you when I get there.”
She tossed the phone on the front seat and gripped the steering wheel with both hands.
“First Esther, now Melissa. Dammit to hell!”
Her editor at Travel & Tour had changed her assignment at the last minute. Instead doing of a lovely piece on the Oregon wine country, Kirin had to repack for Belize for a week to write a piece about the newest private resort that occupied a small island.
June in the Caribbean. What could be more idyllic—or more humid?
She abruptly veered right at the huge green General Mitchell Airport sign. Horns blared. Perspiration soaked her collar as she narrowly missed a half-a-dozen orange construction cones and the man frantically waving a flag. “Shit.”
She eased her car into the long-term parking area, slammed the shift into park, and collapsed back in her seat.
Her phone chirped, and she snatched it.
“Hi, Hon. Esther here. Just a quick reminder. I will text the hotel name, contact, and phone number as soon as I confirm the info.”
“Thanks, that’ll be fine.” Kirin closed her eyes and bit her lip.
“Look, I’m sorry about this switch . . . nothing I could do.”
“I understand. It’s just frustrating.”
“Try to enjoy yourself, and, Kirin, get some rest.”
“I will. Later.”
When her pulse normalized, she double-checked the doors and windows, retrieved her carry-on, and looped the leather messenger bag over her neck and shoulder. The shuttle moved slowly toward her, allowing just the briefest moment of regret.
“I shouldn’t have yelled at Melissa.” Kirin dictated a note into her cell phone to bring Melissa something nice from Belize.
Since the breakup months ago, they’d maintained a relatively comfortable friendship, and Kirin depended on Melissa to help whenever she traveled on assignment. She checked her watch again.
SILKE DYSON FLINCHED and gripped the armrest as Rachel Bates struck the steering wheel for the second time. Perspiration beaded on her forehead, and she sucked in another shallow breath. In front of them, traffic inched forward through the construction logjam at the Milwaukee airport entrance. The tension had started building before they left the house. She prayed that they would reach the departure area without another fight.
Silke squinted at the air traffic control tower looming over the parking structure of the Milwaukee Airport and terminals. Without her peripheral vision, the traffic around the car was nothing more than fuzzy, noisy intrusions into her narrowed lens on the world.
Rachel drove cautiously and glanced at Silke.
“I can feel your anxiety over here, you know,” Silke said.
Silke leaned forward and felt for her phone on the floorboard as Rachel pulled her new Lexus to the curb at the airline departure entrance. She took a deep breath, forced a smile, and then swung her legs around while Rachel came to the passenger side with her red suitcase in tow and opened the door.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Rachel said and grabbed her elbow.
Silke exhaled. She’d be much better as soon as she could get out of town, out of Rachel’s grip for a while. She smiled. “I’ll be fine. I do this every year. You worry too much.”
Silke hoisted her backpack and hailed the skycap.
Rachel closed the car door and turned around. “Have a good time, babe.” She gave Silke a quick, cursory hug and hustled back in the car.
As the car moved away into the stream of traffic, Silke heaved a sigh of relief. It saddened her to think how contentious their relationship had become. She could barely remember when everything had started to go wrong. She watched the blurry brake lights disappear and swallowed hard. Suitcase in tow, she nearly bumped into the skycap.
“Where are yo
u headed, Miss?”
Silke smoothed her hair back and adjusted her glasses and cane. “Belize City.”
“Yes, ma’am. Can I get you some help to the gate?”
She nodded, and within five minutes, an airline employee appeared with a wheelchair and escorted her through security and all the way to the gate. She tipped him well and thanked him as she remembered the character of Blanche Dubois in A Streetcar Named Desire who said, “I’ve always depended on the kindness of strangers.” Since her vision loss, she had to depend on others for assistance, which was tedious and irritating especially for someone accustomed to being self-reliant.
The gate agent told her the flight would not begin boarding for at least half an hour, so Silke found a comfortable chair near the window and pulled a sandwich from her backpack. On Saturday morning at Milwaukee’s Mitchell field the air crackled with excitement, noise, and nervousness from all of the travelers. She could tell by the snippets of conversations that most were heading out on a vacation but there were some business travelers anxious to get home.
Silke enjoyed traveling but it became harder as her vision deteriorated. With each new hurdle, she tried to anticipate difficulties and avoid frustration. Her doctor had diagnosed the tunnel vision eight months ago after a particularly nasty fight with Rachel—one that turned physical. He explained how the increased pressure and impaired circulation had damaged blood vessels behind her eyes. He initially sounded hopeful when he told her that her vision could return to normal when the swelling went down. But there were no promises.
With luck, a week on the warm beach would do wonders. Ah yes, the beach. Happily, her dear friends Diane and Mark had purchased a rundown property nine years earlier on Ambergris Caye, just off the Belize mainland and adjacent to the second-longest barrier reef in the world. After years of tireless work, they turned it into a five star resort. Almost every year since, Silke had visited to hang out with her childhood best friend and support their efforts but also to recharge her creative batteries. Her art fed her soul but teaching and the business end of running an art studio drained her. Rachel wasn’t much help since she traveled two weeks a month for business. Tension drained from her body as she refocused on the thought of offshore breezes that awaited her in a few hours.
KIRIN’S TEMPER ESCALATED to a dangerous pitch. She opened her laptop for the TSA examiner for the second time just as her boarding call sounded over the loud speakers. She cursed the security people under her breath as she slipped on her shoes and hurried to the departure gate. It always amazed her how the tedious procedures could rile her, especially since she flew as a regular part of her job.
“Idiots.” They seemed to get dumber every time she got on a plane. Fumbling for her boarding pass, she dropped the coffee she just bought. “Dammit to hell.”
“Your flight attendant will be more than happy to give you a cup of coffee,” the well-intentioned gate agent said as she handed back the boarding pass.
Kirin moved aboard and then was forced to stand in the aisle of the overcrowded plane while a woman in first class rearranged all her belongings including a small crate containing some kind of animal. Once in coach, she tripped over some woman’s white cane and cracked her leg against an armrest. By the time she found her seat in the middle of the aircraft, she’d muttered every expletive in her literary repertoire and just wanted to scream. Her desire for that cup of coffee quickly became one for a Bloody Mary.
Chapter Two
SILKE DEPLANED LAST in Dallas, and another airline employee greeted her. The talkative young woman guided her effortlessly through the maze of hallways and elevators to the TSA security checkpoint in the international concourse. She felt self-conscious using a wheelchair since her legs were fine, but without peripheral vision, crowded places created the constant threat of accident or injury. And not just to her.
Her vision only allowed her to see a small window directly in front of her and nothing on either side or above her or even below chest level. Tripping had become an ongoing occurrence. Her doctor had told her that seventy percent of patients with her condition improved, but there was also a chance it could lead to permanent blindness. She preferred the glass-half full approach and could still work because so much of her craft depended on the use of her hands. The evidence—her sculptures—were highly valued and sought after. If her vision continued to deteriorate, she hoped she’d still be able to teach.
Standing in the gate area near the window, she watched the preparations for the large jet that would carry her to her peaceful, tropical paradise. Her shoulders relaxed as worries about her studio, her students, her next project, and her deteriorating relationship faded. She rolled her head around to loosen her neck muscles and focused her limited sight on the distant horizon. Ominous dark clouds formed in the distance, sending a little shiver up her spine. Another spring storm coming.
She thought about the house and wondered whether Rachel would remember to cut the grass. Too late to worry now. As if in contrast to the seasonal changes in the Midwest, the perennial lush jungle landscape of Belize and Ambergris Caye beckoned her like a siren. The annual trip provided two heavenly weeks of tropical restoration. The friendly third world country she’d adopted always fed her soul and renewed her spirit.
She sat with her backpack and cane between her feet.
“Is this seat taken?” a woman asked.
The woman stood too close to see clearly, but Silke recognized her voice from the previous flight. It was the woman who had tripped over her cane. “No.”
“Thanks, I sometimes forget how crowded the international flights are,” the woman said. “Weren’t you on the Milwaukee flight?”
“Yes, my cane tripped you—not intentionally, of course . . . sorry.” Silke reached out her hand and smiled.
The woman waved her off. “My fault, I shouldn’t have been in such a hurry. I didn’t look where I was going. It seems like I do that a lot.” Her carry-on tipped over and banged into a small table next to the seat. “Shit.”
Silke listened carefully to the pleasant cadence of a Midwestern accent, but a voice tight with tension. “Are you going to Belize?”
“Yes, a last minute order from my editor changed my plans. She wants me to go down and review a new island resort.” The woman slumped down in the seat with a grunt. “It was the last minute part that threw me off. I’ve been playing catch-up all day.”
“That can be difficult to remedy. Have you been to Belize before?” Silke asked.
“No, actually I haven’t. I’ve visited several places in Central America and a few in the eastern Caribbean. I’ve heard Belize is a hidden gem.”
“Will you be staying on the mainland?” Silke felt the tension between them soften.
The woman audibly exhaled and fumbled with some papers. “No . . . I have a reservation at some place on one of the cayes, but I can’t remember the name. There’s a commuter flight from Belize City to a larger caye then I call for a boat or something. Where are you staying?”
Silke held her cane to her chest. “I have friends who own a resort on Ambergris Caye, and I visit every year.”
“You must really like it there.”
Silke smiled. “Yes, I look forward to this trip as my time to renew.”
“No family?”
“My partner travels most of the year so her idea of a vacation is staying at home. My idea is just the opposite. I work at home all year so my vacation is to get as far away from home as possible.”
Silke noticed that the woman stopped fidgeting and rustling papers.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” a loud crackled voice blared, “we will now begin boarding first class passengers for our nonstop service to Belize City, Belize.”
The people around them noisily gathered their belongings to board. In anticipation of the three-hour flight, Silke decided to delay boarding until the end. She had reserved a bulkhead seat in order to accommodate her long legs and her cane.
Her new acquaintance stood
up. “Are you going to board now?”
“I think I’ll wait a few minutes, but thank you.” Silke shifted her backpack to her shoulder and the boarding pass to her vest pocket.
