Balefire

by Barrett

  “I’m sorry. That must be hard for all of you.”

  “It comes and goes at weird times. The upside is that it brought all of us closer together. Phillip’s a little older than me, and after high school we grew apart, but after dad died, he stepped in and sort of assumed the patriarchal role. I think it was good for him since he’d always been in Dad’s shadow.” Silke spotted the Lincoln Navigator. “That gigantic black car is theirs. His wife’s name is Barbara and the boys are Jack and Jordon—don’t worry nobody can keep them straight until they’ve been around them a lot.”

  THEY CROWDED AROUND an outdoor table after the introductions were made and ice cream bought. Kirin watched the normal family bantering with amusement but was surprised by how quiet Silke got. Maybe it was just the family dynamic. Even she knew better than to compete with adolescent twin boys.

  After several minutes, Mrs. Dyson leaned over. “In case we don’t have much chance to talk later, I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate all you’ve done for my daughter. I’d rather not say any more except that I’ve been very concerned for her safety, and from what she’s told me, you’ve been incredibly supportive. For that, I’m very grateful.” There was a steely sadness in her eyes as she looked directly at Kirin.

  Kirin wiped the ice cream off her chin and smiled. “Silke means the world to me, and I would do anything for her.”

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Dyson squeezed Kirin’s hand and returned her attention to one of the twins yelling her name.

  “What did Mom say?” Silke leaned in from the other side.

  Kirin watched the interaction between the twin boys and their grandmother. “She said she was glad to meet me.”

  Phillip looked at his watch and cleared his throat. “Okay, guys, time to wash up and hit the road. We’ll be back in a minute, and then we’ll follow you, Kirin.”

  With Silke’s directions, Kirin led the way. After a few minutes, she noticed a new sensation, warmth spread across her shoulders. It wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, she would describe it as contentment.

  She glanced at Silke’s profile. Loose hair around her face moved with the draft from the window. Her lips were slightly parted. Her eyes focused. I love her so much. They’d shared the day with each other’s families. Maybe they could all be together for Christmas or Thanksgiving. She giggled at the Dickensian image.

  “What’s so amusing?” Silke took her hand.

  “Promise you won’t laugh?” Kirin kissed her fingers.

  “I promise.”

  “I was fantasizing about a big family Christmas with our blended families enjoying a huge meal after we spent all morning unwrapping hundreds of Christmas presents.”

  Silke howled with laughter.

  “Hey, you promised,” Kirin said with a mock pout.

  “Oh darlin’, I’m not laughing at you. It just sounds so idyllic. Is that how you guys celebrate Christmas?”

  Kirin wished she hadn’t said anything. She felt herself blush, embarrassed. “Well, no. I mean, not anymore. But your family has little kids. I think that makes it more fun, doesn’t it?”

  “I hurt your feelings. I’m sorry. Yes, you’re right, kids make a big difference. Before I met Rachel, I use to see the kids more often. You can’t believe what cute babies they were. Rachel always wanted to go somewhere else over the holidays, like New York or Las Vegas. It only took a couple of years before I was no longer invited to Phillip and Barbara’s anymore. After the first year or so they lost their initial fondness of Rachel and that’s part of the reason.” Silke stopped and gazed out the window for several minutes. “You know, I’d really love to celebrate that kind of Christmas with you—along with your family and my family.”

  Kirin’s love bloomed brighter. Yes. “Then we might have to do some shopping while we’re in Belize.”

  Silke sat straighter and peered out through the windshield. “See that driveway on your right? With the white stone markers? That’s it.”

  Chapter Fifty-six

  MR. HARDCASTLE, A very gracious host escorted Silke and her family through the house to the large flagstone patio. A dozen or more people enjoyed cocktails and some animated conversation. On the southeast corner of the patio, her sculpture stood draped in a white gauzy fabric.

  Mr. Hardcastle tapped on his champagne flute. “If I could have your attention for just a minute, I think we’re ready to begin. My guest of honor, the very talented Silke Dyson is here to unveil her masterful work of art, entitled “Balefire,” for your enjoyment. Would you do the honors?”

  The noise around her muted, and she looked up at the draped object. In an instant, an unencumbered mixture of the work, the agony, the suffering, and then the joy overwhelmed her. Unbidden tears ran freely down her cheeks as she took a hold of the cord that would release the drape.

  She struggled to breathe, a burn spread in her chest. She glanced around to find Kirin right behind her and smiled. It was almost as though creating this beacon had been a self-fulfilling prophecy. She hadn’t realized until just this moment, this powerful symbol of hope and safety. Her creation.

  A gentle tug loosened the drape, which slid to the ground forming a circle around the base, resembling foamy surf. The small crowd gasped and the applause grew loud and steady. The setting sun triggered the sensor as storm clouds gathered to the west. With a flicker, the blue white light came awake, and a murmur droned among the guests.

  Silke wiped the tears from her cheeks. Floodgates to the magic. The host applauded wildly and accepted congratulations from his friends. Roger and John were there, and she hugged them both. Phillip wrapped her in a bear hug, followed closely by her mother and the rest of the family.

  Several loud pops startled her, but they turned out to be champagne corks.

  Kirin put an arm around her waist and whispered, “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Silke, I have someone here I’d like you to meet.” Mr. Hardcastle waved his hand.

  Kirin swept her hand down Silke’s cheek. “You go ahead. I’m sure people have a lot of questions for you. I’ll be here.”

  After an hour or so, the conversations diminished and Silke’s family said their farewells. She walked around the patio and could not find Kirin. On a whim, she looked over the railing and saw Kirin on the pier below.

  Fortunately, she could navigate the pathway because it glowed with a series of solar landscaping lights. Kirin was seated on an elegant bench facing south toward the Milwaukee skyline near the end of the long pier.

  Silke walked slowly to the bench with the inky black lake beyond. Light from the beacon provided her a guide. “I’m glad I spotted you down here. I was afraid you might have been overwhelmed with all of the glad-handing. I’m relieved it’s over.”

  Kirin stood up. “No, I just thought this was your time to be in the spotlight and I sucked it up and decided to share you.” She pulled Silke into a hug. Silke clung to her, energized by her strength.

  “I had no idea I’d be so overwhelmed with emotion.” Silke sniffed, and Kirin handed her a tissue.

  “You deserve to be as emotional as you want to be.” Kirin gazed at the lighthouse. “You created a magnificent piece of art, and it looks perfect in this setting.”

  Silke looked up the hill, and her breath caught. From below, the lighthouse looked even more majestic. From a distance, the workmanship paled in comparison to the dramatic appearance. She shivered and snuggled closer to Kirin.

  “I’d forgotten you named it,” Kirin said. “Tell me again why you chose Balefire?”

  Silke clasped her hand. “Because of the story you told me during the surprise picnic at the lighthouse.”

  Kirin nodded slowly.

  “You told me about an interview with an old woman in Scotland who said that bonfires were lit in order to guide fishermen on their way home. I really liked that idea of having a beacon to guide the way back, back to where you belong. The more I worked on this the more it felt like a symbol of what you had become to me.”

&
nbsp; Kirin pulled her close. “You did tell me, and that’s exactly how I feel about you.”

  They sat close together on the bench, enjoying the soft ripple of Lake Michigan washing over the shoreline and the occasional call of a night bird. They kissed once in shared gratitude and with a growing love.

  Kirin sat up a little. “I have a question.” She pointed at the path along the steep hill. “How did you manage to get down that path without falling on your ass?”

  Silke laughed. “You really are an unredeemable romantic, but sometimes you come up with the oddest questions at the oddest times.”

  “I’m serious. That path is not easy to navigate and you know I worry about you. Coming down here by yourself was foolhardy—”

  Silke put a finger on Kirin’s lips. “Ssh. Things have been so busy, and I wanted the right time to tell you, but I saw the eye doctor and he’s very hopeful that I will get most of my vision back.”

  Kirin squealed. “Awesome. That is wonderful news.” She hugged Silke. “Is there more?”

  “Remember when we were out on the boat a couple of weeks ago and I saw that strange light show while I was looking at the water?” Silke asked. “Well, after that, I started seeing more frequent bursts of light that, in hindsight, were actually returning peripheral vision. It was never constant, and it was in different areas. Anyway, he said that the circulation is coming back, and he wants to check again in three months. I wanted to be sure before I said anything.”

  Kirin wrapped Silke in a hug. “I’m so happy for you. That is just the best news ever, especially now when you’re ready to start a new project in Belize. I just can’t believe it. Crap, now I’m crying.” She swiped her cheeks.

  Silke kissed her lips and stroked her cheek. “Thank you for being here, thank you for loving me. It means so much to share this with someone. But there is something else . . . I wanted to make an announcement tonight and I forgot how to talk. In all the excitement, I forgot to tell you that while you were in the shower this morning I got a phone call that I am one of the recipients of an NEA grant.”

  Kirin stared at her, stunned. “Unbelievable.”

  “The official check won’t come for a while, but that money will come in handy. And it means I won’t have to worry while I’m in Belize about whether I need to sell the house or not.”

  “You know, I suspected that life was about to change for both of us, but I had no idea to what extent.” Kirin took Silke’s hand in both of hers. “We’re both on a brand new path, and the sky’s the limit. And I’m so unbelievably grateful that I’ll be able to share it with you. I love you so much.”

  Silke kissed her and hugged her close. “Speaking of sky and limits, let’s make reservations tomorrow and leave as soon as possible. I want to be in Belize, on the beach in the moonlight—with you.”

  Kirin captured her mouth in a deep passionate kiss. “I suppose that will also mean . . . being naked.”

  Silke laughed and pulled Kirin up the path.

  Epilogue

  “HERE WE GO,” Kirin said.

  Silke grabbed Kirin’s hand in her Vulcan death grip.

  The PA crackled. “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard our nonstop flight from Dallas-Fort Worth to Belize City, Belize. Our flying time should be two hours and fifty-five minutes. If you will direct your attention . . .”

  Silke turned to Kirin. “I honestly never dreamed I could ever be this happy. You are everything I ever wanted or hoped to have. I want to spend the rest of my life trying to be the person I see reflected in your eyes right now. I love you.”

  About the Author

  Barrett spent her formative years in the quiet North Chicago suburbs. Art and music helped fuel an overactive imagination that eventually channeled into a flair for the dramatic and a dream of acting.

  Life and times deferred that dream but offered a new challenge. At her ten-year class reunion, Barrett announced plans to start nursing school. Nursing provided a career of endless challenges and learning opportunities spanning thirty years, several jobs, and great travels.

  After relocating from Illinois to Wisconsin to New Mexico, Barrett set down new roots and fell helplessly into a new passion—writing. With some encouragement and provocation, she spent fourteen years making up stories—roughly, twelve completed manuscripts.

  Then it was time to take the leap of faith and consider publication. That was when the real “learning” began. Readers, betas, critiques, mentors, edits, revisions, revisions, revisions, and then some pitches, some rejections, and some more revisions.

  And now, Barrett’s got books, published books. Her first book, Damaged in Service was a finalist for a Golden Crown Literary Society Award. It is the first of a four book series.

  But that’s not all for this story . . .