Into the Fire

                (From my novel Breath of Life, Chapter Four)

     If there was any way in the world these events could be avoided, Shaylen Price, aka Cabin LuCaine, would not be at them. She’d tried on innumerable occasions to avoid them and had succeeded earlier in her career. Her agent saw the added benefit of keeping her identity as much of a mystery as the stories she told in her novels, but as the books increased in sales and her fan base exploded to include the 20-somethings of both sexes all the way up through the 70-somethings, exposure was requested by the publishers and then more or less demanded by their marketing departments. Shay had to comply.

     She went back to her desk and stuffed a copy of the new book to be previewed today into her black leather handbag, also newly acquired from David’s. Then she sat down and began to lace up the boots. Knowing she was near shaking from the nervous anticipation, she slid open her middle desk drawer and pulled out a Winston cigarette from a nearly full pack and her tiny lighter. Unlike Lonnie, she thought, she smoked on the rare occasions when she was incredibly nervous and wanted to attain the relaxation that had come so easily with him. Remembering it helped her in a small way—his gentle strength, manliness—a protection so ethereal she’d never experienced anything like it . . . like him. She guessed it was that refuge she felt with him which had allowed her to really hear his explanation of a Savior and the need for being “saved”.

     A tear made its way out of the corner of her eye. “I can’t do this now,” she whispered, and she carefully pressed the tear away. 

     I couldn’t believe it at first, and I immediately slowed my pace, sliding nonchalantly over to the inside track of the sidewalk. She didn’t have a purse with her, so just maybe she was coming out for a smoke. God, I wish you were real and could help me with this. I couldn’t believe I’d actually resorted to a prayer of sorts. That’s how desperate I must’ve felt.

     Wow, look at those boots. Man! The woman is just gorgeous. She stopped and leaned against the structure, bending her left knee slightly and letting her slender body rest its weight against what had to be a grateful wall. I briefly thought I wish it was me she was leaning against. Then she slowly brought out her cigarette, not a pack but a single smoke, and lit it with what appeared to be a very small lighter that was slipped back into a pocket of an unbuttoned black coat that probably came to her mid calf.

     She actually closed her eyes after inhaling and slowly blew out the smoke which was whisked away by a breezy gust. I was quickly approaching her, and I couldn’t believe the heart rate I was experiencing. Come on! I had to do something, didn’t I?!

     She happened to open her eyes and see mine upon hers at a cataclysmic moment.

     “Morning,” I said with confidence I must’ve acquired from an invisible God. A brief almost smile greeted my greeting.

     “Hard to believe it’s supposed to be warm today,” I added, slowing my pace a bit and stopping just past her.

     She looked out from her post as if trying to assess the weather.

     “Yes,” she said, so softly I was hoping she’d said anything at all, and a small smile graced her pretty lips, some sort of almost brown glistening, making them look oh so inviting.    

     “Uh, have a good day, alright?” the words intended to be real and looking directly at her.

     She nodded, her smile staying put. I turned from facing her and started to walk away.

     “Thank you,” she said only modestly louder than her previous acknowledgement.

     Turning back to her, I gave her my best smile and said, “You’re welcome.” Then I proceeded on to Tully’s with my heart pounding and feeling like it had when I first asked Linda Sutterman to slow dance after the football game in 10th grade, and she accepted. I got a table in Tully’s where I could see her, but she wouldn’t be able to see me—not that she even cared to watch where I might’ve gone. But it wouldn’t do for her to discover how much pleasure I took in watching her smoke, in caressing the lovely vision of her with my eyes, and now to have actually spoken to her. No, she had no idea how much she meant to my world right now. And how much I hoped it wasn’t just for right now.

     Carmen Roth came into the shop and after purchasing her convoluted coffee order came to share my table and blocked my view of the woman I’d come to cherish in some ridiculous small way. So I had to talk business with Carmen and when I managed to glance around her as she bent down to retrieve something from her purse, the beautiful creature was gone, and I realized how empty I felt to see that stark white brick wall insignificant without her and reminding me that in a way she was still like a mirage to me—or maybe more like an oasis.

     And the bonus was, I realized afterward, there was no wedding ring on that left hand.

Father, thank you for every word, every story, every character, every inspiration. Apart from you, I can do nothing. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.