Angel Fire, Valmore Daniels [rosie project txt] 📗

picked up the matchbook by its base and blew the flames out. A car pulled up and I grabbed the room spray and gave the office a good once-over just as an older couple walked in looking for a room.

* * *

It was too chancy to practice in the office, so I schooled myself to show some restraint. Toward the end of my shift, however, when I took out a couple of garbage bags to the large industrial bins around the back of the motel, I saw a broken broom handle poking out of the container.

After I threw the bags in, I pulled the handle out. The pack of matches I had ignited earlier was highly combustible. It didn’t require much of a reaction to set them alight. A dried length of wood, however, would require a little more effort.

Hidden by the building on one side, and the hill behind the motel on the other, I decided to make a second attempt at summoning the power.

I held the shaft out like a wand, and focused on the end. The tip began to smolder, and within moments, flame erupted from the wood like a torch. This time, I had planned on trying to use my power to cause the flame to stop burning, but nothing I did helped. The entire handle was on fire.

Uselessly, I waved the stick around to put out the flame, but that only made it worse. Finally, I threw the handle to the ground and stomped on it to put the fire out.

At the lake, I was able to stop the fire. Or was I? When Neil coached me to pull back the power, did I simply remove myself from the equation, and stop acting as an accelerant? Once I removed the mechanism, did the existing fire just burn itself out against the water?

I would have to experiment more. But one thing was certain, it was flirting with disaster to practice here. I would have to wait until I got back to the lake when no one was around, except Neil.

* * *

That night, I resisted the urge to stop by Neil’s door and knock when I got off my shift. For one thing, he had to be up for work early in the morning and, light sleeper or not, he probably wouldn’t appreciate the interruption. I also needed some time to figure out how I felt about him. I needed to know if my attraction to him was real, or if I was misinterpreting my relief at discovering I was no longer alone in the universe.

I rested the flat of my hand against his door, as if I could sense his sleeping form inside.

Finally, I retreated to my room and crawled into bed. It took forever to fall asleep, and when I did, my dreams were filled with anxiety and anticipation.

 

Chapter Twenty-Four

I woke very early the next morning; I just couldn’t sleep. Excitement and adrenaline can do that to you. After checking the clock and realizing I would not be able to sit still for hours until my lunch date with Neil, I decided to get out of the room and do something productive. I showered and got dressed in record time and went in search of fresh coffee.

Aunt Martha was finishing up the room next to mine when I came out and she greeted me with her usual cheery smile.

“Darcy! Sorry I missed you last night.”

I dimly remember Uncle Edward mumbling something about her visiting a cousin up in Sedona—a weekly ritual—and leaving him to fend for himself in the kitchen. I wondered if he had used the same solution as I did: microwave dinners. Not the healthiest choice, but who had time to cook?

“How was your trip?” I asked.

Aunt Martha smiled. “Good as always. Doris let me win at pinochle again. She thinks I’ll stop visiting if I lose too many pennies. You’re up early.”

“Got some things to do in town.”

She pointed to the kitchen. “Make sure you start your day right. There’s a stack of pancakes on the counter. Just throw them in a pan for a minute to warm them up. Orange juice in the fridge.”

“Thanks, Aunt Martha,” I said and kissed her on the cheek before I headed off to their bungalow to help myself to breakfast.

* * *

After making sure I cleaned up after myself, I headed to the front office to check in with Uncle Edward. He was sitting in the back reading a newspaper. He was still fighting with those reading glasses.

“Hey,” I said by way of greeting. He looked up over the rims of his spectacles and it took his eyes a moment to focus.

“Morning,” he replied, and shook the paper to straighten it out. “Coming in early to make up for yesterday?”

“Uh, no. I’m going to walk down town, maybe stop by the hardware store. Do you need anything?”

“Yeah. I have a list.” He put the paper down on the desk and searched for a scrap of paper on which he had written down a few needed supplies. I grabbed the list and scanned it.

“I can’t carry this back by myself,” I complained.

“Take the truck,” he said.

“I don’t have a license.”

He blinked at me, and then realized the truth of it. “I forgot. We’re going to have to remedy that one day. Get you some learners and lessons. All right, just grab the toilet paper and light bulbs. Tell Tom to deliver the rest when he’s got time.”

I nodded. “Will do.”

He went back to his paper without saying goodbye, and as I left, I shook my head and silently laughed to myself. A tough nut to crack, indeed, but not impossible.

* * *

Tom Derring had owned Derring & Sons hardware store since I could remember. What was odd was that he didn’t have any sons; instead, he had four daughters and none of them wanted anything to do with selling hammers and electric saws. Growing up, it seemed he could always be found behind the counter of his store, giving well-meaning fix-it-up advice and a hometown smile to anyone who patronized his establishment. Six days a week, ten hours a day. The same generation as my uncle, he had a similar work ethic.

When I entered the store, I fully expected him to be there, gray hair and all, but I was more than a little startled to see Troy Hartman sitting on a stool behind the cash register. I suddenly felt sick to the stomach, and wanted nothing more than to get out of there as fast I could.

Troy was reading a comic book, reciting the dialog out loud, and grinning like an idiot. He spotted me straight away, and his smile faded.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

That instantly got my back up. “I could ask you the same question. Where’s Mr. Derring?”

Troy blinked. He hadn’t expected me to act as if he wasn’t a threat. The fact was, without Barry and Frank, he wasn’t. Troy was a dyed-in-the-wool follower. Even back in the days when Barry and I were still married, I could push Troy around when I wanted. Although I had no desire for any confrontation, I had a mission to accomplish, and no weasel-necked boy in a man’s body was going to stop me today.

As if sensing that I wasn’t going to roll over to his initial posturing, Troy immediately changed tactics. In an obvious attempt to hide his discomfiture he tried to be funny and dismissive.

“Old Tom? He’s semi-retired now. Geezer’s getting up there in years. Time takes its toll, don’t you know?”

“Oh?” I said, and pursed my lips together.

“Yeah. He only comes in two or three days a week now, and usually when he wants to bust my chops or gossip with the ranchers. Can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, you know.”

With his subservient tone, he might as well have flipped over on his back and asked me to tickle his stomach.

“I’ve got a list for the Lazy Z Motel,” I told him. “Do you still deliver?”

“Uh, no, not really. But, uh, when Old Tom comes in, I’m sure he’d be happy to bring this stuff over to your uncle. Give him a chance to shoot his mouth off for an hour, if you know what I mean.”

I dropped Uncle Edward’s list on the counter, glad that I didn’t have to do the motel’s shopping.

Troy glanced at the list. “I’ll just put this all on account.”

“I’ve got a few things I need to pick up for myself. Uncle Edward said I could put it on his account and pay him later,” I lied, but mischievously I wanted to see how far I could push Troy.

He shrugged. “Uh, yeah, sure. No problem.”

My original intention had been to pick up a few inexpensive items for that afternoon’s experiments: wooden spindles, rail spikes, and maybe a small fireproof safe. I wanted to see what objects I could ignite, and how much effort each required. The matches had been easy, but the wooden broom handle had been a little more difficult. I needed to measure how much willpower I needed for different materials.

Before I had a chance to begin filling my own shopping list, Troy coughed in his throat and I saw his eyes harden.

“Actually, maybe I should call over to the Z and see if your uncle is all right with that.”

“Pardon me?”

“Come to think of it,” he said, his voice turning hard, “I’m not sure Old Tom is coming around today, so maybe we can’t deliver this stuff after all.”

Troy had developed a backbone from somewhere, and I figured out the source a split second after I heard the door chime.

I turned around and saw Barry. His unblinking eyes never left me as he made his way down the aisle to the counter.

“Barry,” I said in a low voice. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“I don’t want any trouble, either,” he said evenly.

“Look, what happened at The Trough—”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Darcy. It was a misunderstanding. I had too many shots of tequila. Things got out of hand.”

Startled at the unexpected calmness in his voice, I could only stare at him.

He said, “I heard my father and your uncle had some words. I never wanted it to get that far.”

“Barry, I’m not sure what you want.” I was suddenly uncomfortable.

“Listen,” he said. “It was a shock, you coming back to town, is all. I think I just, I don’t know, reacted the wrong way.”

“The wrong way?”

I could tell he was making an effort to keep his words calm. He threw up his hands and shrugged. “What can I say? I’m an emotional guy. I get carried away. You know me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Yeah. I know you.”

“Hey, I’m being nice.”

I glanced back at Troy, who was watching on with anticipation. To Barry, I said, “All right, so, you’re being nice. What do you want from me?”

“Well, why don’t we try to be friends?”

My eyes went wide. “Are you serious?”

“Come on. All right, you’re right. I was an ass. What do you want me to say? I’m sorry? I’m sorry, all right. I just have a problem trying to say what I feel.”

“And what do you feel?”

“Well,” he said, “I think maybe I still have some feelings for you.”

That took me completely by surprise. “What?”

“Yeah,” said Barry. “It’s not so strange. I mean, we were married and all. You must have loved me at some point.”

“I must have been deluded at some point,” I