"Fire!" I screamed for the life of me.

"FIRE!" "OH my God, the house! The house is burning!"

A moment later, I heard the twist of a key and then someone entered the room. Lights flickered on from a fixture overhead and Bette appeared. Disheveled strands of her hair were scattered in all directions. There was no fire, I wasn't even at home. Bette enveloped me in her embrace and began to stroke my hair in a mother like way.

"Shh." She whispered. "It's okay. It's all coming to the surface, that's all. You've survived something horrific. Just relax, relax and calm down."

I pulled away from Bette and stood. My feet were icy on the tile floor as I began to pace.

"Why can't I remember anything about the fire?" I questioned hysterical.

"I know it happened, I saw the charred remnants of the house. There's something missing though..." I said beginning to cry. "Something important."

Bette stared blankly at me and in a flicker, I could sense her sympathy.

"Just give yourself to God and it will all work out."

"I need to know some answers Bette. Why won't anyone tell me anything about the fire?"

"The doctors believe you should figure things out on your own, when you're ready. Just give it time is all, just give it plenty of time."

"Sharp had said something when I was staying with him. He'd said that the fire may not have been an act of nature. Did Patrick burn down the place during one of his fits?"

"I don't know, you tell me what happened." Bette responded, as she stood to face me.

"For Christ's sake, I can't remember." I hurried to the chest of drawers and lifted a sock that was masking the virgin Mary. The way her gaze appeared, she seemed so understanding, so compassionate. There was something else around her eyes, something disturbing. I found a clue within the portrayal of her innocence. I once knew someone with a soul of similar purity. It almost felt as if I'd recall at any given moment, but the pebble of enlightenment remained elusive.

"Why can't I remember?" I asked with frustration.

"Just pray Jessica please."

"Is that your answer to everything? Pray? Pray over oatmeal, pray over the garden, pray, pray, pray...." I said, obviously offending Bette with my attitude.

"It works, I know it does, I've seen miracles in my time."

"Just leave me alone." I said waving my hands at her in dismissal.

"Try to get some sleep now." Bette said as she slid through the doorway. Her body weight creaked the floorboards as she returned to her room. My door was suddenly unlocked, a wooden mouth wide open. I was no longer a prisoner. In a rush, I dressed into clean clothes. Flying through the house, finally outdoors, I paused on the patio. The cool mist of the August night stung as I breathed it in. I was up before the birds could alarm the world with enthusiastic squawks and caws. It was then I noticed, leaning on the side wall of the garage, my bike. A dim light overhead cast spindled shadows appearing like a spider's ornate web. Sharp had obviously returned the bike the night before and I hurried over to welcome my sole means of transportation.

I took hold of the handlebars and felt a surge of liberty. I mounted the seat, but didn't ride off. I just sat there with my feet acting as independent kick-stands trying to find the middle balance without the trick of movement.

There was a sense of calm wavering like that. My eyes locked on my toes and I remembered dual posts that at one time were attached to the frame at the rear wheel. Posts connected to what? I asked myself. Again I felt as if I were on the edge of a cliff ready to jump into a pond of knowledge. Just as quickly as it came, it disappeared all together.

"I'm trying too hard." I said aloud.

I placed my hand against the wall for balance and began to pedal the bike in an opposite rotation. Although my legs were moving, the bike remained stationary.

A rabbit darted into view from beneath a shrub. It moved in such a timid way, a timid creature by instinct. I understood timid, I had lived and breathed like a rabbit for most of my life.

"Where's Jessica?" My father would demand upon his return from work each day. His voice was never pleasant, but more along the lines of a fierce bark.

"In her room." My mother had sang on more than one occasion.

From within my tiny room, I held my breath for what seemed like an eternity. I believed if I refused to breathe that somehow he would disappear, that everything bad about him would miraculously dissolve. He'd beckon a second time and knowing that with a third call I'd suffer serious consequences, I hurried along, silent, unassuming.

It was best to tip toe around the man. Tiptoe around his problem of an extreme liquor addiction. I never had friends over, not that I had many throughout the years. It was all too embarrassing, his anger, his drinking, hits fits of rage. He was a volcano that at any given moment could erupt. Mom and I were the townspeople trapped within his path, our feet held fixed, never once wavering from our position.

"JESICCA!" My father would scream.

Knowing my place, I would sprint from my room and hurry down the stairway into the cellar. I understood my job. I'd pull a half dozen beers from the shelf and lug them upstairs. One after the other, I'd pry open the bottle caps. I'd then proceed to pour off enough beer to add a shot of whiskey to each. I was the bartender, a child bar maid as mother stood across from us preparing dinner each and every evening. Preparing dinner and pretending we were a normal, happy family.

Heaven forbid, if I wasn't quick enough or spilled some of his elixir of life. In those rare instances, his hand would pelt my face. There was one week I only made it to school on Monday. My face was a badge of ineptness as a bartender, dad's birthstone ring catching and slicing me below my left eye. A scar in the shape of a tadpole still remains to this day.

Gasping with an overflow of emotion, I release my hand from the wall of the garage and begin to pedal. I start by riding circles around the house, always keeping within range of the lights surrounding the landscaped yard.

It is a bumpy ride and one that is somehow cleansing my spirit. I ride like this for some time. Eventually, lights click on within the house and I notice shadows as the Sigley's dress for the day. As I round their side of the house, fragments of discussion filter through, but I dare not take a moment to listen.

I enjoy the nothingness, the blank screen the ride is granting me.

Bette appears on the front porch. She staggers over to the swing, plops down and begins a relaxed sway. She nods as I pass and I force a half smile.

With every round, her eyes follow me. With every round, concern creases her brow.

I finally glide to the steps and throw on the brakes. The bike squeaks to a halt and I position my foot to the bottom step for balance.

"Sort of early to be riding your bike isn't it Jessie?" Bette mumbled.

"Not at all. I had some things to work through and this seemed to be the way for me."

"Things?" Bette questioned poking her nose into my business.

"Just some stuff flying around in my mind."

"About the fire?" She asked.

"What about the fire?" I snapped in my typical response.

"Nothing about the fire. You just seemed upset last night, that's all. I thought maybe you were remembering something."

"No, nothing in particular."

"I see." Bette managed standing. "I'm going to put on some coffee. Would you care for a cup?"

"No thank you. I thought I'd take the bike down to the creek and see if I can spot that deer that has been hanging around."

Bette nodded. "Just be careful okay?"

"Sure." I said peeling away.

Timber snapped and cracked beneath the tires of the bike. I took the trail that was parallel to the stream. In several places the path crossed rail road tracks and swerved back. The area at that time was silent, the inhabitants of nature and the world not quite up and around.

I leaned the bike next to a tree and was careful not to make very much sound. I wanted to watch the deer as they would slide from the overgrowth for a drink in the stream.

An old tire laid at the shore of the creek. Aluminum cans with pellet holes were positioned over twigs for target practice.

I maneuvered to the shoreline, concealing myself behind the greenery. I kicked my shoes to the ground, removed my socks, then dangled my feet in the refreshing currents.

I heard the snap of twigs before I saw the figure. My eyes scanned the forest anticipating the exact point to where the creature would show itself. The footsteps echoed and bounced making it difficult to sense where the animal would dart out from.

"Jessie Pal." Sharp said materializing from behind.

"Sharp?" I questioned. "What the heck are you doing out here at this hour?"

"Heck, I couldn't sleep Jess. I was worried about you."

"The Sigley's wouldn't hurt me." I said waving my hand.

"It's not the Sigley's I'm concerned about, it's Patrick. He stopped in to see me last night. I had to phone the police, I pressed charges."

"Against Patrick?" I asked with an incredulous tone.

That's right. He came at me with his fists. Told me that if I ever stepped

near you again that I'd live to regret it just the same as you Jessie."

"I wouldn't let him bother you Sharp. Just forget about him, forget about me

too for that matter."

"You know I can't do that Jess. We've got so much history between us and I

made you a promise a long time ago, remember?"

I stood in the creek and began to wade along the edge. Sharp followed. It

made it easier not facing him direct, but keeping my eyes pointed downward

in order to concentrate on my sinking feet.

"I remember." I whispered.

Suddenly with a splash, Sharp appeared next to me. He pulled my

hand into his and held firm. "You might fall in there Jessie. Lord knows

how many leeches there are waiting for you at the bottom."

"Leeches are the least of my worries, besides I doubt if there are any in

here with the currents so strong."

Sharp gazed at me then nodded with understanding.

We spent most of the morning walking hand and hand along the creek.

There were gaps in conversation and neither of us seemed to mind much.

Sharp had a subtle way about making me feel better.

"You remember the time Jessie Pal...." Sharp said as we sat on some large

boulders baking our feet in the sun. "The time I asked you to the fifth grade

dance at school?"

I laughed in a sudden burst. "Yes."

"I thought Dale Quin had all ready asked you. I thought for certain you'd

say no."

"Dale had all ready asked." I finally admitted after all these years.

Sharp gazed at me with surprise.

"You turned down a Quin all for the likes of me?"

"Dale never compared to you my friend." I said in a whisper.

Sharp shook his head with disbelief, then threw a twig into the stream.

"That was the evening I learned your secret, remember?"

I shook my head as the memory came flooding back.

"My mom drove me over to your house to pick you up. I remember asking

her and she gazed at me with concern. Here I was a punk fifth grade boy

wanting to take a girl out on a date. I explained that you wouldn't be able to

go without transportation and she finally agreed. I don't know if I ever told

you or not but, I had to do backbreaking chores in order for mom to agree to

that one."

"No. You never mentioned that." I said.

"It was worth it. I was honored to take you to the dance."

"You're too kind. I was somewhat of a nerd, hardly worth the trouble."

"No Jess. Never a nerd! For heaven's sake.... Sharp said fighting off

many years worth of emotions.

"We pulled up to the curb to wait on you. After several minutes

passed, mom prodded me to your door to pick you up proper. I'll never

forget the expression on your father's face when he swung open that door."

"Please Sharp, I don't want to reminisce, especially about him."

"I know Jessie."

Things fell silent between us.

"I fell in love with you that night. I really did. In a few hours I realized that

I was needed, needed by someone so amazing."

"We were only in the fifth grade Sharp."

"I know. Let me tell you this, I've never loved anyone as much, nor as

intensely as I do you."

I gazed at Sharp's blue eyes and my heart felt an overpowering sense of

acceptance. My hand slid to his face and my fingertips brushed his cheek.

It was warm that face, that wonderful spirit that was all him. Warm and

trusting like always.

His eyes remained closed as I brushed his soft skin. Sharp had

remarkable skin, smooth, flawless. We sat there like that, me brushing his

cheek and Sharp savoring it.

"I'm very sorry Sharp, I've ruined your life." I whispered.

"Shh." He replied. "Nonsense."

He opened his eyes and gazed straight at me, through me. Pure eyes with

such an intense blue.

I bridged the distance and placed my lips to his. The expression was of

sincere heart and I could feel a mingling of our souls. Realizing my error, I

pulled away.

"This isn't right." I mumbled.

"I've never told you....." Sharp said stopping himself.

We both sat there a moment, eyeing one another with

intent, conveying with our eyes what we felt within our hearts.

"Perhaps I'd better leave now." Sharp announced as he stood from

the boulder.

I watched him follow the path. As he reached the foliage, he turned and

faced me straight on. A subtle grin pursed his lips. It was almost as if he

were conveying remorse. He nodded, then disappeared through the leaves.