Home to Harmony

by Dawn Atkins

  “You were driving?” Christine demanded. “How could you drive?”

  “Mitch showed me. I swerved to miss a deer and slid down the shoulder,” he said, pale and shaken, no longer sounding drunk. “I couldn’t get back on the road. I kept trying.”

  “With no lights on? You could have been killed. What were you thinking? Where the hell were you going?” She tried to keep hysteria out of her voice.

  “I had to get home,” he mumbled.

  “To Phoenix? You took a truck in the middle of the night. What is wrong with you?”

  He hung his head.

  “The fire started in your room, you know.”

  “My room?” He looked in that direction. Two fire hoses played over the far end of the second floor.

  “Do you know how that could have happened?” she asked, praying he hadn’t done the unthinkable, holding the memory of the sweet helpful boy he used to be in her heart while she waited for his answer.

  “No. I mean I didn’t start it. I just…left….” His eyes went even wider. “Oh. It might be—” He grimaced. “I might have left candles burning in the window.”

  “Near the curtain?”

  “Sort of. I…forgot…. I was…freaked out.” He looked angry now. “It was an accident. People light candles. So what?”

  She grabbed him by his shoulders and shook him. “Listen to me. You could have killed people. Marcus. Carl. Mitch and Louis. The whole house could have gone up in flames due to your carelessness.”

  “I’m sorry, okay?” He looked suddenly bereft, bony shoulders slumped, hair hanging down. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean…what happened.” His voice wobbled and he started to cry.

  “I know you didn’t,” she said, feeling his pain, her anger fading. He hadn’t set the fire. He’d only caused it. As if that weren’t horrible enough.

  “Let’s go see how they’re making out,” she said. Together the headed to the residents watching the fire crew work. As they approached, Lady noticed and ran to David, jumping up to put her paws on David’s chest. David dropped to his knees to hug the dog.

  “Everything okay?” Marcus asked. “David?”

  He glanced up at Marcus, then back at the dog.

  “David was driving to Phoenix when he swerved off the road and got stuck. One of the firefighters almost hit him in the dark. He left candles burning in his room. That’s what caused the fire.”

  “I see.” Marcus looked down at David.

  “I don’t know for sure,” David mumbled, keeping his gaze on Lady.

  “Marcus risked his life breaking into your room to save you. He thought you were inside. He could have died, David.”

  “You did?” David looked up, horrified.

  “Lady noticed the smoke and woke me up with her barking. She was scratching and whining at your door.”

  “She was? Oh.” He blinked, and pressed his face into the dog’s side. “Thank you, girl,” he said.

  “And what about thanking Marcus?” Christine demanded, her voice shrill. “And apologizing for what you did? His room is burned, too. What about that?”

  “Thank you.” David stood, unable to meet Marcus’s eyes. “I’m sorry…I didn’t mean…what happened.” He spun away and ran toward the cottonwoods.

  “David!” she yelled, tears in her voice.

  “Let him go.” Marcus took her arm.

  “He has to face what he did,” she said.

  “Take a moment to breathe, Christine,” he said in a low voice that caught her attention, settled her panic a little.

  “You could have been killed,” she said. “We all could have.” She could barely speak around the lump in her throat.

  “But I wasn’t. No one got hurt and only a few rooms were damaged. Don’t make this worse than it is.”

  “What about your book, all your research?” As if risking his life weren’t enough, he might have lost all he’d worked for.

  He patted his jeans pocket. “I’ve got a backup thumb drive on my keychain, which, luckily was still in my jeans. As for the research, we’ll have to see. No one was hurt. That’s what matters.”

  “How can you be so calm?” Then she had a horrible thought. “You had to break down the door…like with Nathan— David might have been— Oh, I’m so sorry, Marcus. So sorry and so grateful.” She felt tears on her cheeks. She wiped them away.

  “I’m glad I was there,” he said, but she saw the flash of pain in his face. He’d paid a price for his heroism. “Come here.” He pulled her into his arms, his bare chest smelling of smoke and clean sweat and she accepted a brief moment of comfort before pulling away. She had to stand on her own feet, no matter how weak and shaky she felt.

  “I have to handle David right,” she said, but her brain seemed to freeze. She didn’t have one clear thought, only a rush of bad feelings—regret, fear, failure. “I don’t know what to say to him. Do I lecture him? Try to make him feel worse? Punish him? How?”

  “You’ll know what to do and what to say. You love David. You know him very well. Trust your instincts.”

  “My instincts? You mean the ones that told me David had improved, when he was really plotting a tryst with the girl who messed him up in the first place?”

  “You might have been excessively optimistic for a moment, but your gut feelings are solid. David’s struggling with intense emotions right now. Give him a chance to sort them out. Give yourself a chance, too. You’ll know what to say and do.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “I have faith in you both.” Marcus stood so broad and strong, silhouetted against the darker sky, she almost believed him. Standing with him, she felt protected, taken care of, safe.

  That was different for her. Christine took care of herself, her son and her world and always had. This felt good, but also risky.

  After the fire crew hacked into the walls of the three rooms damaged by the fire to be sure they’d missed no embers, they permitted everyone to return to the unharmed portions of Harmony House.

  Christine gathered bedding for Marcus and David, the only residents who’d lost rooms. David helped her shift furniture out of the way in the spare room next to hers, where he would stay. Marcus took an empty room on the far end of the second floor.

  Once the bed was made, David sat on it, his head in his hands. He looked so bereft, surrounded by stacks of chairs, boxes, old lamps and battered tables.

  “You got what you need?” Aurora’s gruff voice came from the doorway. “Don’t be lighting any matches in here, David,” she said, nodding at the tower of cardboard boxes beside him, clearly trying to make a joke. It fell flat.

  “I’m so sorry, Grandma,” he said, gulping air.

  “What did I tell you about calling me that?”

  “Whatever. I’m just…sorry.”

  “Accidents happen,” she said. “Get some sleep and we’ll sort it all out tomorrow.”

  He nodded miserably.

  Christine followed Aurora out into the family kitchen. “I don’t suppose Harmony House has fire insurance?”

  Her mother laughed. “What do you think?”

  “Worth asking, I guess. I’ll pay to rebuild the damaged rooms. We’ll get a couple of estimates.”

  “No need.”

  “Of course there’s need. We’re taking full responsibility.” It would take a serious bite out of her savings, but it had to be done. “I am very sorry David did this. I know this is the last thing you need right now.”

  “The place is old. Fires start. Forget the estimates and keep your cash. We’ll fix it, or we won’t. And forget the blame. Blame means guilt and guilt is pointless.”

  “But we are to blame. David was so drunk he left candles burning near a curtain. If it hadn’t been for Lady and Marcus, Harmony House might have burned to the ground. And I’m to blame for allowing him too much freedom—that room off by himself for one thing—and, for…I don’t know, thinking he was doing better. We’re taking responsibility and we’re paying for the repair
s. Period.”

  “Things happen for a reason, Christine.”

  “What? David was supposed to nearly kill us all?”

  “No one died. Don’t blow this out of proportion.”

  “Excuse me? David ran off the road and was nearly hit by a fire truck. He was on his way to Phoenix, barely able to drive, no permit and drunk.”

  “I told him not to do that.”

  “Excuse me? You told him not to do what?”

  “I…oh, hell. I caught him trying to practice driving. And I told him not to drive because you didn’t want him to. He was the one who hit the tree.”

  “David crashed the truck? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t see the point. And he learned his lesson.”

  Christine remembered something else. “David said you told him to sneak Brigitte here. Is that true?”

  “I told him to talk to you about a visit.”

  “Why didn’t you say something to me?”

  “He didn’t want me to.”

  “So what? You’re the adult. After all the trouble he’s been in, you didn’t think I should know this?”

  “It was up to him,” Aurora said stubbornly.

  “So, if he’d taken off for Phoenix tonight, that would be okay with you?”

  “It’s his life, Christine,” she said, jutting out her jaw, defensive now.

  “That is so typical of you. If you love something let it go, right? That’s just an excuse to not do the hard parts of parenting. I will not abandon my son to the fates or the universe or whoever you think runs the show.” Christine was furious.

  “That’s what you think I did? Abandon you?”

  “That’s sure as hell how it felt.” The words were out before she could stop herself. She was so tired and scared and worried. “I waited for an hour at the bus station, thinking you’d come get me, but you didn’t. You let me go. I will never do that to David. I will always reach out to him.”

  “If you want to blame me for every zit and hitch in your life, Christina Marie, you go right ahead, but whatever I did or didn’t do, you turned out pretty damn good if you ask me.” Her mother’s eyes flashed at her. Christina Marie. Her mother hadn’t called her that since she’d changed her name to Crystal.

  Christine’s anger dissolved. What was she doing? Instead of apologizing to her mother about the fire, she’d picked a pointless fight. “I’m sorry I said that. I’m upset.”

  “Well, don’t be. The fire doesn’t change life around here and it’s not the end of the world. And as for David, the kid’s not perfect, but then neither are you. Nothing is. You keep forgetting that.” With that Aurora turned and headed down the hall.

  Christine leaned against the sink to catch her breath—something she should have done before losing it with Aurora. Christine closed her eyes. She was exhausted and shaky scared. Maybe Marcus had faith in her, but she didn’t deserve it.

  Heading to her room to try for sleep, she looked in on David. He lay on his back, one arm slung over his eyes, the way he had as a little boy. For a moment, she saw him as he’d been—sensitive and eager, helpful and loving. How had the boy who was now so big his feet nearly hung off the bed ever been tiny enough to fit inside her body?

  What if he’d been in that room with the fire? What if he’d wrecked on the road? Icy terror washed through her. Looking at him, she swore it again: I will not lose you.

  As if he’d heard her thought, he sighed and dropped his arm. He was awake. What should she say to him? Trust your instincts, Marcus had said. For now that would have to do.

  She went to sit on the side of the bed. “You okay?” She brushed the hair out of his eyes, startled anew by the ugly bump on his forehead.

  “Don’t.” He turned away and pressed his face into the pillow, as if to hide from her. She noticed his knuckles again.

  “Can I get ice for your hand?”

  “No.” He looked up at her, his eyes desolate. “I know you hate me. I’m a shitty son.”

  “No, you’re not. I love you, David.”

  “I should leave you alone, quit messing up your life….”

  “My life is fine. It’s yours that needs some work.”

  “I belong with my dad. I miss him so much.”

  “You hardly knew him, David.” She fought the panic that always arose when he brought up Skip. David wanted to run from what he’d done, so he’d jumped to his imaginary perfect father as his escape hatch.

  “We used to have fun.” He hesitated. “Was he mad at me? Because of that fire in his apartment I started? And now I did it again. Started another fire. I’m such a loser.” His face crumpled and he began to cry.

  “It was an accident, David. And the fire at Skip’s was not your fault.” She’d thought David had forgotten that. He’d been barely five. Her heart lurched. “Skip should never have left you alone. I should never have left you with him.”

  She’d known better than to trust Skip for an entire weekend, but she’d had a last-minute commercial shoot in LA, and no place else for David to stay.

  “You were trying to make oatmeal.” But he’d put a metal bowl in the microwave, which sparked and set off a fire. Luckily, neighbors heard the smoke alarm and called 9-1-1.

  “We were lucky you weren’t hurt.” She’d never forget the terror she’d felt pulling up to the apartment to find fire trucks and police parked there, then the sight of David sitting on the bumper of an ambulance, wrapped in a blanket, his eyes blank with shock.

  “I remember the alarm screeching and screeching and how bad the smoke smelled, then a fireman pulling me out from under the bed.”

  They’d told her it was common for children to hide from a fire they’d lit.

  “Is that why he never invited me over again?” David demanded now, his eyes wild. “He didn’t forgive me for that?”

  “You did nothing wrong. He was playing poker instead of keeping you safe. He knew it was his fault. After that we moved to Phoenix, remember?” David had had nightmares for weeks and clung to her at night. Christine had left Skip and his bad habits in Albuquerque. Skip had neither objected nor asked for visitation rights. He knew he didn’t deserve them.

  “This time it’s all on me,” David said, desperation in his eyes. “I was so stupid. I hate myself.”

  “It was an accident, David. No one was hurt. We’ll get through this. We’ll fix it. We’ll rebuild the damaged rooms. You’ll help. You can hammer nails or paint. Whatever is needed.” It would be cheaper if the commune residents did the construction themselves for sure. She might have to fight Aurora to even do that. “And you’ll try harder around here—be better, do better, right?”

  He nodded, still miserable. Maybe David’s horror over what he’d done would jolt him into changing, or was that also excessive optimism on her part? She thought of something else. “You and Marcus have been talking, right? What about if you get his ideas on how to do better? Talk with him?”

  “You mean be his patient?”

  “Not in a formal way, no.” Marcus wouldn’t want that. But their talks could be more directed, more purposeful, with David fully involved in the process. “You would discuss your problems and he’d suggest ways to do better. Would you do that? Talk to him? Get serious about it?”

  “Marcus is okay, so I guess.”

  “I’ll ask him then. We’ll figure it all out tomorrow. Get some sleep now, all right?” This time when she touched his hair, he didn’t turn his head away. She smoothed the locks away from the bump. “The swelling’s going down. You won’t have a scar.”

  At least not on the outside. She hoped Marcus would agree to more talks. David needed all the help he could get.

  Marcus… His name made her go hot and cold all over. He’d been her rock tonight, comforting her, reassuring her.

  And before that? They’d been in bed. She couldn’t believe that mere hours before David got drunk, started a fire and tried to run away, she’d been blissfully making love, acting as if she hadn’t
a care or concern in the world.

  There was a lesson there. Clearly, they had to stop. The sex had been lovely…heavenly…achingly good, but it was over, especially now that she would ask Marcus to spend even more time with David. Believing David was better, she’d allowed herself to be selfish and shortsighted. Marcus had figured it out, she realized, suggesting they think about it. He wanted to let her down gently. Sex was not worth the risk, not even sex so good the thought of never having it again made her almost cry.

  CHAPTER TEN

  PART WAY THROUGH THE DAY after the fire, Lady’s woof made Marcus look up from dragging his charred desk onto the terrace. The dog was galloping toward Christine and David, who were heading his way.

  Seeing David jolted Marcus back to the night’s crisis, to prying at David’s door, the scream of adrenaline in his head, the burn in his gut, his terror that the boy had died while Marcus slept heedlessly next door.

  As he’d worked, he’d felt the painful déjà vu of breaking into Nathan’s bathroom, finding him slumped against the tub, his skin gray, the needle still in his hand, the belt around his upper arm. While Nathan had been giving himself a lethal injection of drugs, Marcus had been oblivious, working at his computer. He would never forgive himself. Never.

  Marcus shook himself clear of dark regrets. Now, in the sunlight of the present, David was unharmed. And there was work to be done. That was where he should focus.

  “Oh, dear. It’s bad, huh?” Christine asked, surveying all that Marcus had brought onto the terrace to dry—furniture, books, papers, clothes, his computer, the mattress on its side, too wet to salvage.

  “It could be worse,” he said, rubbing his eyes, which felt as though they’d been scraped by sandpaper from smoke and lack of sleep. “It’s mostly water damage. The walls got ripped up pretty good. The smoke smell should fade. I haven’t tried the computer, but it’s pretty wet. The books will dry. I can get copies of most of the research.” The pages and files had been soaked, trampled and torn. “My net book survived so I can keep working.”

  “What about your guitar?” David asked, looking at the case braced against the wall.