Balefire

by Barrett

  “You are still trouble, Silke Dyson. No wonder I got suspended junior year.” Diane quickly stripped off her clothes and joined Silke.

  They giggled and splashed for several minutes then swam a short ways out and treaded water as they watched the distant red-and-green boat lights move through the darkness.

  “You were right, this feels great, even though I feel like I’ll get in trouble,” Diane said.

  “It’s moments like this when I feel free . . . unencumbered. Thanks for listening and still loving me.”

  The warm salt water tenderly caressed her body with tiny tender currents. Her muscles relaxed and the sensuousness of the water on her naked body awakened her senses. She floated with only the stars watching her. If only she’d thought of it earlier in the week, she and Kirin could have shared this magical moment.

  Chapter Sixteen

  KIRIN HEAVED A sigh of relief when she opened her door. Melissa had taken care of the broken air conditioning. Bless her heart. She dropped her bags and opened the refrigerator. Nothing. Knew I forgot something. She opened a beer, poured a can of soup in a bowl, and waited for the microwave to warm it.

  On the last leg of her trip she had formulated an outline for the resort review. If she worked it right, Esther would still have a nice timely piece on a tropical resort for the magazine. That would leave her some breathing room for the one she really wanted to write about the hurricane recovery. Overall, it was a successful trip, especially considering the ominous beginning.

  After dumping her clothes in the hamper, Kirin stepped into the shower. The wide spray covered her, washing away hours of travel grime. She caught a faint whiff of coconut sunscreen, the kind she and Silke had used every day. She smiled and closed her eyes. With a little effort, she could imagine the feel of the sun on her skin and the sting of the salt water. And it felt good.

  The phone rang just as she drew back the top sheet on her bed.

  Sigh. “Hi Melissa, what’s up?”

  “I wanted to make sure you made it home alright.”

  “Yup, just got in a few hours ago and was about to crawl into bed.”

  Pause. “Would you like me to come over . . . ?”

  Melissa was persistent, she had to admit, and a little release might feel good . . . “No, thanks. I’m beat and really need some sleep. I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”

  “You’re sure?” Melissa begged.

  “I’m sure.” She hung up and set the phone down but continued to stare at it. “Damn.”

  The cool sheets soothed her warm skin. The internal argument started just as it always did whenever Melissa propositioned her. Her resistance was not a hundred percent and Melissa counted on that weakness. Kirin always rationalized that they were still friends with occasional benefits but no obligations. And the sex was good. But afterward she always felt sleazy.

  SILKE PULLED OUT a chair as Flora arrived with the menu.

  “Good morning, Miss Silke, you look so pretty today. Where’s your friend?”

  “She had to go home. I’m sure she’ll come back sometime, though. Could I have the usual and coffee?”

  It had been four days, and Silke still thought about Kirin a lot. They had exchanged several e-mails, and Kirin included some of the pictures she’d taken.

  Diane gently pushed her to make plans to move out of the house and even offered to fly back to help her pack and move. It was a feasible plan, after all. The end of the month would bring her a bigger check from the Milwaukee gallery selling her sculptures. She’d put the last four checks in a new savings account. With this one, she would have enough for six months’ rent on the small studio.

  One of her graduating students offered her his furniture since he was moving back to Eau Claire. Originally, she thought she’d just tell Rachel she was storing the stuff for the kid. But Diane convinced her that leaving piecemeal would continue to grow more difficult with time. She agreed.

  Just thinking about it gave her chest pains. It was time to move on and end the charade. A part of her still wanted to wait until Rachel was out of town again and slip out. That was still a possibility.

  “Thank you, this looks wonderful.” She would miss these tasty, satisfying breakfasts. Three more then back to a life of cold cereal and bagels. She sprinkled a little of the local hot sauce on her fluffy scrambled eggs and savored the spicy bite of the pepper sauce. The first bite still gave her a delicious rush of pleasure.

  Since Rachel spent so much time on the road, there were no longer family dinners. Silke had at one time enjoyed preparing new and exotic dishes to surprise her hard-working partner. Boy, that had been short-lived. She put down her cup as a wave of sadness swamped her. For too many years, she had methodically denied her own unhappiness.

  She had managed to keep the fear bottled up until Sunday when Diane pushed open the door and made her speak the words, made her describe the details, made her own the abuse. Her throat tightened with a wave of sadness.

  If she did this. When she did this . . . she would need to tell her family. She groaned.

  Her mom and brother adored Rachel. She suddenly felt her resolve crumbling. How can I possibly tell them why this happened?

  “More coffee?”

  Silke dropped her water glass, spilling it across the table. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you come up.” Goddammit.

  “I’m so sorry, Miss, I always forget,” Flora said. “Miss Diane always remind us. I fetch a towel, you don’t worry.”

  “Everything okay?” Mark asked from somewhere behind her.

  Her shoulders dropped. “Yes. Just working on my startle reflex.”

  Mark sat opposite her in a dry chair. “Funny, I thought you had that down pat. It’s your blasé response that needs work.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. Bless Mark for his timing and his wonderful sense of humor. “As usual, you are a life saver.”

  “Sweetheart, spilled water is not generally considered a life threatening event . . . by anyone’s standards. Are you almost finished or can I sit with you awhile?”

  “Please stay. Poor Flora was just bringing coffee when I decided to hurl my water glass across the room.”

  “Sorry I missed it. Want to try again?”

  Laughing felt good. She could always count on Mark to provide his brand of levity.

  Once the table was dried and the coffee poured, Mark leaned forward and cleared his throat. “Listen, I wanted to ask you something.” He looked around. “Next month is Diane’s forty-eighth birthday and I want to get her something special. Would you see if you can remember anything she may have mentioned that would mean a lot to her?”

  “Tough one,” Silke said. “You know how little she ever asks for. I’ve never had an easy time shopping for her. I’ll need to think about it.”

  “Great. Let me know.” He motioned to Flora. “So how goes the art project?”

  “Pretty well. I’ve drawn about fifty sketches to start with and I’ll narrow them down to do some pen and ink drawings to see how they look. Kirin was nice enough to share some of her photos from her excursion inland. Some of them would make nice renderings. We’ll see.”

  “I enjoyed talking with her. Nice gal,” Mark said. “Her idea about the hurricane resurrection was cool. If her writing is as good as her imagination, it could be sensational. Say, did you give any more thought to Diane’s idea about coming back and spending a few months here?”

  “Yes and no. It’s incredibly generous of you guys. I guess it’ll just depend on where I am at that time—literally. If I can get moved, sell a few more pieces, win the grant I applied for and . . . if my vision holds, it would be wonderful.”

  “Listen, kid, I know Diane has told you, if you need anything, please call. I mean it. Money, a place to stay, a plane ticket . . . we’re here for you.” He squeezed her hand.

  “I know, Mark, and I love you guys. You’ve always been so wonderful to me.”

  He kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her shoulder. “T
ry not to wreck my restaurant.”

  She swatted him. “No promises.”

  Mark walked to the office, and Flora refilled her coffee cup.

  Silke pulled a small notebook and a mechanical pencil from her bag. Inside the back cover, she jotted down a few things to remember before she started back. She decided it would be fun to send Diane a Christmas package with unusual food items. And maybe something nice for Kirin—maybe that sketch she admired so much.

  She started to sketch the view from the restaurant. Looking east, she saw the large deck with the pool in the center, the offices on the left, and palm trees surrounding the buildings. The steps on the far side descended to the beach and beyond that lay the blue-green ocean. It was beautiful. Even with her peripheral vision impaired, she could remember all the details from the years she had spent gazing across this view. When she finished, she gathered her things and set out for the beach. The last thing she on her checklist was individual sketches of the small thatched casitas. She had a hunch they might make nice note cards.

  She walked close to the water’s edge where she spotted the new building on the north pier. There were brightly colored flags flying from the roof. Then she remembered that the new curandera had begun work. Curiosity won out, and she walked toward the small building. Surrounded as it was by water, it looked like a very small island or oasis. As she came closer, she heard soft music playing and a woman’s voice humming. She stood outside, listening to the warm resonant voice.

  “Please, come in,” a disembodied voice said.

  Her first instinct was to turn and flee, but she waited then approached the door. “I don’t want to intrude. I don’t have an appointment.”

  A warm belly laugh escaped the curandera. “No worry ’bout that. I wait for de people so you must be de one I wait for.”

  The gentle voice beckoned Silke. Surprisingly, the woman was not very tall. She was soft and plump with very dark skin that showed off her bright white smile and unusual pale blue eyes. She wore a traditional-looking sari of jewel-bright colors, her feet were bare except for several ankle bracelets.

  “Bienvenidos, a Curación Casa.”

  Silke stepped through the doorway and marveled at the beautiful fabrics covering the walls and draping the table. Fragrant tropical flowers lent ambiance to the place. “It’s lovely in here. I was here a few days ago before they finished work. It looks so different now.”

  “You call me Nekoomis, please.” She indicated a large cushion on the floor next to her. Her warm gentle spirit was welcoming.

  Silke obediently sat and faced her. “Thank you. Maybe you could tell me a little about what you do.”

  Nekoomis tipped her head to one side and narrowed her eyes, then nodded. “I listen. Every person has a story. And I watch. Sometime, the inside and the outside are not the same.”

  The simple sounding words left Silke feeling exposed, as though Nekoomis actually saw inside her. Just like with Diane, words formed, and she swallowed to prevent their escape. “Do you think that causes illness?”

  Nekoomis gave a sympathetic smile and a nod. “Oh yes. Holding in darkness is very bad. It’s always better when there is light on the outside and the same light on the inside because everything can flow. Light can flow to the dark places and make them better.”

  “I think you’re right. The light is always better.”

  Nekoomis extended both hands palm up. “You put your hands out?”

  Silke rested her hands lightly on top of Nekoomis’ calloused palms. Without being asked, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. Within seconds, she became aware of the heat generated between their hands. As it grew, she wanted to pull away but didn’t.

  “I can help. You are afraid, but you trust me?”

  Silke nodded but found words impossible.

  Nekoomis keened softly. “Vision comes to us in many ways. The eyes give us pictures but not always real. The magical rainbow never be caught. But invisible love more real than many things. Beloved, your vision is clear if you trust it.”

  Nekoomis pulled Silke to her feet and pointed to her table. “Let me help you.”

  Silke lay still as she listened to Nekoomis move around the small room lighting candles and humming. She still felt the heat from her hands when it moved up her arms.

  Nekoomis went to the head of the table and gently cupped the sides of Silke’s face. She didn’t speak but changed her hand positions to cover both eyes then both ears. She continued to touch different areas around her head and neck. Wherever she touched, her skin grew warm.

  After what seemed like a long time, Nekoomis moved to the other end of the table and held both feet for several minutes.

  Silke smelled sandalwood and realized she had nodded off. Her body was heavy but amazingly relaxed. “I’m sorry, I guess I fell asleep.”

  “Do not sit up just yet.”

  Nekoomis got up from the pillow she was sitting on and helped Silke to a sitting position on the side of the table. “You might be dizzy. You okay?” She handed Silke a small cup and nodded.

  She sipped it. The liquid was pungent like a strong tea. “I think I’m fine now.”

  Nekoomis stroked her face and nodded again. “I think you okay. Maybe you come back and see me?”

  As she made her way back to the condo, she had an epiphany. Her uncertainty and ambivalence had vanished. Yes, she would definitely return to this safe, comfortable environment as soon as she could. It was a start. She had the beginnings of a plan. The only obstacle would be her health. Her eye doctor wanted to see her in a few weeks, and unless he had bad news, there was no reason not to return. She was happy here and more importantly, safe.

  Chapter Seventeen

  KIRIN REREAD ESTHER’S comments on the article and nodded. “Hot damn.”

  This is an excellent article about a unique resort. I guess I missed this one. We’re going to bump it up to the August issue, and great job with the photos! E

  This meant she could start work on the hurricane piece as soon as she got back from seeing her parents. Not surprisingly, when she called her mother on Sunday, the begging started. The easiest way to get some work done in peace would be to drive out to Oconomowoc for a couple of days. If she waited until the weekend, they’d want her to drive up north with them.

  She scrolled through her e-mails and saw one she had missed from Silke. It was from the Airport in Dallas three days earlier. She looked up at the calendar. That meant she was back in Milwaukee. She picked up her cell phone then stopped. The tenuous situation with her partner might be aggravated by a phone call. Instead, she composed a casual e-mail suggesting they meet for coffee when she came back from visiting her parents.

  Over her desk, she had hung a picture of herself with Silke at Fido’s By the Sea. They were both smiling and holding beer bottles. She hadn’t noticed until now how sunburned they both were. And happy. A knock on her door interrupted her mood.

  “Hi, Kir. You all rested up?” Melissa entered without waiting for an invitation.

  “Hi, Melissa. Would you like to come in?” She closed the door as Melissa groped her ass. “Hey.”

  “Just wondered if you missed me.” Melissa’s hands were hot and busy.

  “Don’t start,” Kirin said. “I need to finish getting ready. I’m going out to see my parents.”

  “Well, I missed you. Are you sure you don’t have a few minutes?” Melissa’s low-cut short shorts highlighted her extra-long legs and the V-neck tank top displayed her inviting décolletage.

  Kirin knew she was blushing and hated the way her body betrayed her. Her momentary hesitation brought Melissa’s hungry mouth to hers. Her legs began to buckle under the assault as Melissa’s hands cupped her ass while pressing her back to the door.

  “Please stop—”

  “But I’ve missed you so much.” Melissa bit her neck. “Come on, baby, just a quickie . . .”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “You don’t have to do a thing . . .” Melissa covere
d her mouth again, unzipped her shorts, and wasted no time igniting a smoldering desire.

  It was over before she could catch her breath. Her heart pounded and her legs shook. “Dammit, Melissa.”

  She just smiled. “I knew you missed me. Have anything to drink?”

  “Help yourself. I have to finish packing.” Kirin took her backpack into the bedroom and slumped onto the bed. She was still aroused and part of her wanted to drag Melissa into the bedroom. But they had to stop.

  She lay back and took a deep breath. Their official breakup had been almost a year ago, but six months earlier Melissa had talked her into what she promised would be one night. It ended up as a three-day weekend and they never left the bedroom—well rarely. It was exciting, wild, and intensely satisfying, but she was exhausted for an entire week afterward. Melissa knew all the tricks and all of her weak points. But there was nothing remotely emotional, loving, or romantic about it.