One Way or Another(88)

He was in the only group of trees around, birches with pale silvery trunks, fragile leaves aflutter in the hot wind coming from the fire. The whole scene was unreal; Marshmallows looked like a movie set, a TV show, the backround music for the fire engines.

Traffic clogged access for the fire trucks, a helicopter battled the thick smoke; the shriek of the fire engines, the crunch of heavy hoses, then a great burst as water surged out of them. Oh God, he was too late, he was too late.… He ran in the same direction the dog had gone.

*

Out on the marsh, Angie had Lucy’s hand grasped firmly in her own as they ran. She heard the girl’s sobbing breath, knew Lucy was coming to the end of her strength, that fear and terror were robbing her of the will to go on. Lucy did not even know who it was, dragging her away from the inferno where she believed her loved ones were trapped.

Angie stopped. “Sit here for a minute. Rest, next to me.” She pushed Lucy down onto the wet grass. It was cold, they might both die right there of exposure. She said, “Soon, though, we must go on. Your sister will be waiting for you.”

She saw Lucy’s blue eyes were blurred with tears. She was looking at a broken heart; she knew what it felt like. “I promise,” she said, holding Lucy’s hand more gently, “I promise you will be okay, but we first have to get out of here.”

Angie crossed her fingers and held a hand over her heart. She wasn’t sure if she could keep that promise, but if it was a lie, it was in a good cause. She had no idea where anyone was. Not only that, she was in the middle of the dangerous marsh. She had been through this before. She still didn’t know how to put one foot safely in front of the other.

*

Martha did not know how it happened, just that suddenly there was fire all around. Smoke, thick as dust, choked her. Luckily she’d had emergency services on standby for the party. But where was Lucy? She stood for a moment, panicked, cell phone clutched in her hand. She’d call Marco, he’d know what to do. Of course there was now no phone reception, everything was chaotic, fire trucks, police, suddenly a dog darted past her. Em running straight into the flames. The dog must know somebody was in there, and ever faithful, had gone to rescue. Oh God, it must be Lucy.

Martha took a look at the burning house, measured the distance between the French doors where the glass had blown out and the front door that now swung crazily on its hinges, and knew she’d never make it. Besides, that’s not where Lucy would have gone. She would have been in the kitchen. And of course, that’s where the dog must have gone.

The kitchen was at the back of the house. Another fire truck screeched past her, men already tumbling off it, attaching hoses, running into the blaze. Martha froze where she was, realizing there was nothing she could do. Absolutely nothing.

Marco spotted her, lit by the flames, her shoulders drooping, her head bent. He knew she was crying, knew it must be about Lucy.

He caught up to her, turned her to him, held her, speechless, in his arms. There seemed nothing to say, no words of comfort or promise … yet he knew they must have hope. Hope was what life was about, the future they would have together.

*

Lucy had not questioned the woman holding her hand as they ran. All her trust was in her. She had only this person, her replica in the black velvet dress, her red hair blowing in the hot wind coming off the fire. She looked at her properly, finally taking her in, the cheekbones sharp as blades under the pale skin, rail-thin in the velvet dress that hung on her frame; her large eyes soft with compassion.

“Who are you?” she asked when they stopped to rest.

“A friend.”

“You mean a friend of Ahmet.”

“That man has no friends. I’m here because he trapped me, imprisoned me. I started this fire to try to escape.…”

Lucy tried to take in what she had just heard; surely nobody imprisoned women, nobody started fires deliberately, where people might be killed. She remembered her sister. “Oh my God, Martha!”

She tried to get up but Angie held her. “Stay here. Do not move an inch.” She rose to her feet, smoothed out the folds of her dress, took off her shoes.

“But where are you going?” Terrified of being left alone, Lucy clutched at her.

“I’m going to get Martha for you,” Angie said. “Trust me.” And she was gone.

The night closed around Lucy. She could feel the darkness touching her, offset by the flames from the burning house, tamped down by the fire hoses. This woman with the red hair would get Martha back, she would get her and bring her here, and then Marco would surely come, and Em. Oh my God, the little dog.





65

Marco held Martha in his arms; she was quiet now but he felt her tremble. He wondered where Lucy might be and was afraid of the answer. The burning house sent off intense heat and he walked Martha away, out of range.

“Tell me what to do,” she said. “I have to find Lucy.”

“Of course we’ll find her.” He wished he was as sure of that as he sounded. He decided to leave Martha there and go back to the burning house, search around; Lucy might even be in the crowd of onlookers. Then he realized, of course she would not. Lucy would be looking for them, if she was still alive, that is. He wished he had not had that thought.

“I’m going back,” he said to Martha. “Wait here, do not move an inch.”