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    The Lake Is On Fire
    The Lake Is On Fire
    The Lake Is On Fire
    Ebook114 pages1 hour

    The Lake Is On Fire

    By Maureen Crane Wartski

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A recently blinded and despondent teen aged boy and a abused, man-hating dog are thrown together in a struggle for survival against a New Hampshire forest fire.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBookBaby
    Release dateMay 6, 2013
    ISBN9781626758797
    The Lake Is On Fire

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      Book preview

      The Lake Is On Fire - Maureen Crane Wartski

      (fiction).

      ONE

      Ricky heard the dog barking. The sound crept into his dream and changed it, somehow. He had been dreaming that he and Leo were hang gliding together, laughing as they tested their skill and strength against the currents of the air.

      Hey, Rick! Leo was shouting. Look at me...

      Ricky came awake, still feeling the buoyancy of the wind, still looking at Leo. He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness.

      "Look at me, Ricky!" Ricky Talese closed his sightless eyes.

      There was a specially made clock near his bed that would have told him the time, but Ricky didn’t bother to reach for it. It was late in the afternoon. He knew that because heat was pouring through his west-facing bedroom window. He wondered briefly if he should reach for his white cane and get up, then he rejected the thought.

      To heck with it, he muttered.

      The dog barked again. Ricky frowned. So he hadn’t dreamed that sound. What was a dog doing in the house? Mom had had a dog once, a fat dachshund, but it had died many years ago. Suddenly Ricky sat bolt upright on his bed.

      They haven’t got a seeing-eye dog for me! he cried. He wouldn’t have it. He’d take the damned dog back.

      He heard his bedroom door open.

      Ricky, are you awake? His mother asked.

      Ricky didn’t answer. He felt impatience and an aching longing to bury his head in his hands and burst into tears. His mother could see, couldn’t she? She could see that he was sitting up in bed!

      There’s a dog in the house, he accused.

      "Not in the house. King’s in Deirdre and Sol’s Bronco. They dropped by to visit and they had to bring their new dog with them."

      I’ll bet they dropped in, Ricky thought, wryly. He knew that his parents had invited the Gallaghers out of desperation. They had been pussyfooting around him for two weeks, ever since he had taken his white cane and tap-tapped his way into the bathroom, found a razor blade, and tried to cut his wrists.

      They wanted to see how you were getting on, his mother was saying in the timid, pleading voice he dreaded. Won’t you come down and say hello?

      I’m kind of tired.

      Once, Deirdre and Sol had been his favorite people. He and his best friend, Leo Kraemer, had practically lived in the Gallaghers’ cabin up in the White Mountains. He and Leo had gone fishing at Bobcat Lake and built birdhouses for Deirdre to hang in the tall white pine behind the remote cabin.

      I don’t know whether I’ll get up or not, Ricky said.

      Ricky, please. They just want to... to see you. Mom didn’t say words like ‘look’ or ‘see’ too easily.

      She was obviously going to stand there until he said he’d come down.

      Okay, he said at last. I’ll be down in a bit.

      He listened to the sound of his door shutting then to the receding footsteps and waited for the memories to come. He knew that they were all crouched inside his brain waiting. Whether he was awake or asleep, the memories were more real than anything that had happened in that accident in February. He and Leo had gone skating with a bunch of guys, riding in the car Leo’s big brother had borrowed from his dad. They had been laughing, talking about vacation, groaning about school, and teasing Leo because he was in love again. And then, there was the patch of ice, a skid, and the screaming and the crunch.

      He could still hear that horrible crunch! The car had been squashed as it skidded into a tree beside the road. Of the car’s six passengers, three had survived though with serious injuries. Leo had been killed, Ricky blinded.

      Ricky felt himself sweating as he remembered the rest. He would never forget how his parents had broken the bad news to him as he lay, all bandaged up, in his hospital bed. He would forever remember Dad’s voice, sounding strained and torn, as he spoke about Leo and then added, There’s a problem with your eyes, Rick. You must try and hang on because this is tough news, son.

      And then his mother had cried. It was Ricky’s first real memory of his blindness—Dad’s voice and Mom crying saying, We’re so lucky. Poor Leo. We have you still, Ricky. Thank God you’re alive...

      Ricky had been too stunned to thank anyone. Later, reality set in. When he left the hospital, the world was an unfamiliar place. Everything that had been his—his room, his laptop and sound system, even the bathroom shower—seemed unknown to him.

      You’ll get used to it, hon, his mother said, encouraging as she guided him past the living-room coffee table. Here’s the couch, remember? I’ll never move it, so you’ll have a point of reference. And here’s the kitchen, the refrigerator. It’ll get easier.

      Definitely easy if he could see. Perhaps easy if he had tried. But what was the point of trying? There was no hope of regaining his eyesight; the doctors had told him as much. No sense in going back to school, either... and he hated his friends who could run on the track team and toss a basketball into a hoop and go to the movies. They pitied him. He could hear the pity in their voices when they came to visit him. Their pity oozed through the little pep talks they gave him, Like: Gee, Rick, it’s too bad. We’ll miss you on the track team. But you’ll run again, Man! Or, Ricky, don’t give up. There was a blind kid in my brother’s class, and he got straight A’s. And finally, Hey, just think of Helen Keller.

      He had shut his ears to the voices and to the pity and the pep talks. He had locked himself in his room where he lay listening to the CDs that he and Leo had cut together during their last vacation and to the tunes downloaded onto his phone. One of them was a Beatles’ tune, and while listening to the cadence of those long-ago voices, he thought about dead Leo. Perhaps that was when he had started thinking about the razor blade in the bathroom as a way out.

      Ricky-y! His mother’s voice interrupted the memories. Honey, are you coming down?

      He drew a deep breath and got out of bed, found his sneakers and fumbled with them, trying to distinguish left from right. Then he put the sneakers on and tapped his way to the door, opened it, and stood in the hall facing the stairs. As he slowly made his way down the stairs he heard the sound of welcoming voices rising toward him.

      There he is! Sol Gallagher called. Sol wasn’t a very big man, but his voice rumbled and boomed out to embrace Ricky. What’s this? You’re as skinny as a rail.

      He doesn’t eat much, Mom sighed.

      Ricky frowned, exasperated. He hoped his mother wasn’t going into her I-worry-about-him-so routine. He tried to walk down the stairs casually, but knowing that they were all watching made him clumsier than usual. He tripped, lost his balance, and slid down the last three steps on his bottom. Nobody said anything, but he knew that they were all holding their breath. He knew Mom was looking at Dad and that her eyes were full of tears.

      Oops, Deirdre Gallagher said, breaking the silence. You okay, Ricky? He nodded, hoisted himself to his feet, struck out again with his white cane. Come and sit beside me on the couch, Deirdre continued.

      He barked his shin on the side of the coffee table before his found the couch. As he eased himself down on it, his father said, Hungry, Son? Your mom made apple pie, your favorite.

      It’s good pie, Sol put in. Your mom’s a fantastic cook. I thought that you’d be as fat as a pig, Rick. All that lying around since February.

      Ricky suddenly hated Sol. Did he think it was fun ‘lying around’?

      I think you’re right, Sol, Dad was saying, Ricky does need exercise.

      Sure! Ricky snapped. I’ll go out and run four miles or so. All right? Or maybe I’ll play basketball with the guys. Better still, why don’t I get into my football gear? I need to be in shape to play in September.

      There was a little uncomfortable silence. And the dog barked again. Its bark held a deep, ominous note.

      That’s King, Deidre told Ricky. He’s a German shepherd. Our new orphan."

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