Unauthorized Fires

Trigger Warning: Domestic manipulation and physical peril.

Julie descended the stairs to the beach. It was empty even at the height of the season. Near dusk now, a few fires flickered in the distance. It was Sunday, and the renters and tourists had headed home. The only ones left were the summer people like herself and the locals who lived there year round. Venus hung low on the horizon and outcroppings of foliage - trees, beach grass, the occasional bramble - hunkered low against the ridge, pinning the thin ribbon of sand between the road and the icy depths of the Great Lakes.

Finally alone, she felt vaguely uneasy, a solitary figure in the dimming light. She longed for the tranquility of the water, the peaceful song of the waves picking up in the evening wind. But like many women, Julie rarely felt truly safe alone, even in such serene isolation. As it got darker, the waves appeared to run up and down the edge of the shore like coyotes. About a half mile down the strand, she turned and headed back.

Everyone had told them they were brave getting married mid-life, especially with a teenager involved. But she thought it was going to be okay. True, her daughter was acting out a bit. But she was in her late teens - at that difficult age between childhood and adulthood. The senior year of high school. It was always hard for young people this age to understand that they weren’t fully adults yet and hadn’t earned the privilege or the ability to make all their own decisions. Were they old enough to find a job, choose a college, pick a major? Some were. But were they capable enough to go out and independently make their way in the world? Most weren’t. Therein lies the rub: they had all the desire to be independent but little ability to actually do so.

Julie looked forward to Delaney’s return to school in the fall and then hopefully to college the year after that. She tried to clear her mind but her daughter’s voice nagged at her, “I should be living in LA with my Dad. The only thing stopping it is you.” Julie wondered where she got such an idea.

Julie’s sister had said, “So what? Let her go. He’s only putting these ideas in her head to create trouble for you. When she gets out there and he can’t feed her or enroll her in school, the whole thing will sour pretty quickly.” Maybe she was right. But Julie found the situation deeply disturbing. Her daughter had changed since her father had come back into her life. And now with cell phones, etc., she had no idea how often they were talking or what they were talking about. She had even found a burner phone that Delaney insisted she knew nothing about. Maybe it was just normal teenage rebellion. Nonetheless, Julie found it unsettling. At least here at the lake, there was no cell phone reception and no internet.

The sun set faster than Julie expected. Her pulse quickened as she made her way up the stairs, the trees closing in around her - rustling, conspiring.

Clearing the ridge, Julie was buoyed by the warm light of the cottage, a beautiful beacon in the darkness. She scurried across the road and up the gravel driveway, frantically punching in the code to the door. She looked for her anxiety pills and downed two of them. No water.

“Delaney? Dean?” she called, searching the small house. Empty. The back door. Unlocked. She flipped the light switch and stepped out on the deck. The light didn’t come on, and she tripped over something left just outside the French doors that led from the master bedroom to the deck, catching herself on the grill. That was close. It could have been a bad burn had they been using it.

She turned on the cellphone flashlight. What the hell was that? A rusty beartrap? Where did that come from and who would have left it there, on the deck just outside the door? Dean was constantly finding interesting old objects on the beach. Was this one of his metal-detecting treasures? Pretty careless place to leave it. She started to reach for the chain to move it and then thought better of it. She grabbed the broom and placed the end on the pressure plate, leaning forward with as much weight as she could muster when the entire contraption leapt to life with a deafening snap. Anger rose in Julie's chest as she imagined what could have happened if she or Delaney had accidentally stepped on it.

Later, Julie spoke to them separately. Both Delaney and Dean denied knowing anything about a trap. Dean was concerned, but incensed by the accusation that he was both stupid and careless while Delaney seemed completely unruffled. “Did you ask Dean? You know he’s always closing the screens on his phone whenever one of us walks in the room.”

“What do you mean?” Julie asked. “What are you suggesting?”

Delaney just stared at her blankly. “Well you found that burner phone,” she said finally.

“We don’t even have cell phone reception out here, Delaney.” Julie said. “And that burner phone was in your backpack.”

“That doesn’t mean that it’s mine,” Delaney answered before falling back into a blank stare.

Dean was out back grilling hot dogs. She started to ask him about the trap again, but was distracted to see the porch light working. “Did you replace the bulb?” she asked.

“No, I just tightened it,” he said. “Must have come loose in the wind.”

Julie glanced up at it and grimaced.”Thanks for fixing it.”

That night in bed she reminded him to lock the doors. It made her nervous to come home to an unlocked house. “I know,” he said. “Maybe Delaney left it open.” Hmm, Julie thought. It was possible, but why would Delaney use the doors in the master when she had her own doors to the deck? She was getting tired of the constant finger-pointing.

The next afternoon, Julie was relaxing on the beach, drinking Fernet Branca and Coke when Delaney appeared next to her.

“Hey, Mom,” she said. “I know how we can prove that Dean left that animal trap on the deck.”

“Oh yeah, how?” Julie answered looking up from under the brim of her sunhat.

“Well, doesn’t that camera on the cabana work?” she asked. “You could just watch the footage; I’m sure he brought it up the stairs after he found it on the beach.”

“Delaney, you know that’s just a dummy camera. To keep curious renters and other passersby from getting too curious.”

“You mean break ins?”

“Yeah, or even just hanging out. We’ve found garbage and fresh ashes in the fire ring when we haven’t been here in a long time. It just seemed like a good deterrent.”

“But it doesn’t actually work, right?”

“Well not as a camera, but it seems to be an excellent deterrent; we haven’t had any more unauthorized fires since we put it up.”

“Cool,” Delaney declared as she started to turn away and then stopped. “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t wear that bathing suit again.”

Julie stared at her inquisitively. “It’s gross, Mom. You look gross. You’re too old for a two piece. Your belly is all stripey and your belly button looks like there was a cave-in at the mine.”

“Well, thanks, Delaney,” Julie muttered dryly. “I think it’s beautiful. It’s from you, you know.”

Delaney turned and strode off toward the water. Once upon a time, Julie would have felt compelled to watch, to warn, to lifeguard. But today she tilted her face to the sky and fully covered it with her hat and tried to remember what it was to just be Julie, before all these other people showed up and complicated her life. She tried to put them out of her mind - Dean, Delaney, her ex, the bear trap, all of it. She imagined the sunlight falling like droplets of warm honey on her skin, coating her, immersing her in a beautiful veil of warm, sweet, amber light. She tried to focus on the soothing rhythm of the surf and the warm embrace of the universe.

That night at dinner, Delaney announced that she had an idea about the animal trap. “Landscapers,” she said. “One of them found it when they were mowing the yard and threw it up on the deck to avoid running it over.”

“Could be,” Dean said. “I’m surprised that wouldn’t have triggered it, but I guess if there’s no pressure on the plate…”

“Exactly,” Delaney exclaimed, beaming with pride at having solved the mystery.

“I’d give them a call and ask about it, but I don’t have any bars. Maybe I’ll do it when I go to the city on Monday. Worth making a call to be sure that if they find something dangerous again, they dispose of it properly. Good thinking, Delaney,” Dean affirmed.

Julie smiled.

“I want to go live with my Dad,” Delaney announced.

“I know you do, but it’s not that simple, sweetie,” Julie offered.

“I think it is that simple.”

“Finish high school first and then the world is your oyster,” Dean offered, an inveterate peacemaker. “Just one year. What difference does a year make?”

Delaney stared at him unwavering. They finished dinner in silence.

The next day, Julie relaxed on the beach while Delaney glided along the shoreline on her paddle board. She was fearless in the water. Always stubborn, Delaney had learned to channel her stubbornness into tenacity and determination. She was physically strong and mentally resilient. Julie swelled with pride. It took courage on Julie’s part, but now that Delaney was near adulthood, it was nice to just let her do her thing without feeling the need for constant vigilance.

There were a few families on the beach as well as jet skis and pleasure boats on the water. Further out, a huge red freighter left a trail of diesel fumes as it plowed along the shipping lane, engines humming.

Time for more Coke, Julie thought, heading up the stairs again.

The smell of rotten eggs hit her like a shock wave as she came through the front door. She glanced across the open living space to the gas fireplace. The oven hissed. She leapt toward it, yelling for Dean as she turned off the gas.

“Dean! Dean!” she howled, racing to Delaney’s bedroom and throwing the French doors to the back deck open. “Where are you?”

He stumbled out of the other bedroom, half asleep.

“Come on, get out!” she commanded.

“What’s that smell?” he asked.

“Gas. Somebody left the gas on the stove. We need to get out.”

Dean pushed her out the door and hurried back to the master, emerging through the second set of French doors which he left open for ventilation. Then he circled to the front of the house where Julie was waiting at the end of the driveway.

“Where’s Delaney?” he asked.

“She’s safe. She’s out paddleboarding,” Julie answered.

Dean’s brow furrowed.

“What is it?” she asked. “How did that happen? Did you make breakfast and forget to turn off the oven?”

“No, I was napping. Maybe somebody leaned against the knobs and accidentally turned the gas on. Try not to get worked up over it. These things happen.”

But do they? Julie wondered.

“Let’s get an oven with the control panel above the stove when we replace that thing,” Julie suggested.

“Maybe we can just get the hook up changed to electric,” Dean offered. “I never liked the idea of a gas oven in such a small house, especially with the fireplace right there.”

“I like that idea,” Julie nodded. “Sorry I accused you of leaving the gas on but…”

“Don’t be sorry. If you hadn’t come up when you did, I might be soaring with the seagulls right now,” he joked.

“It’s not funny,” she said.

“But isn’t it?” he replied, putting an arm around her.

The next morning, Dean headed into the city for a Monday meeting. It would be a long day but worth the drive to squeeze in some extra beach days. Delaney wanted to meet friends about a mile away so Dean dropped her off in town.

“How are you getting home?” he asked.

“One of my friends can drive me, or somebody’s mom will,” Delaney answered.

“Okay, no joyriding. We don’t want you in the car with a bunch of kids, okay? It’s too dangerous,” Dean said.

“Why would we want to do that when we have the beach? There are only four summer weekends left, you know?”

Wow, Dean thought. The summer had really gotten away from him. “Okay, be careful. Just use common sense,” he reminded and then pulled away.

Back at the cottage, Julie dragged the big two person raft from the cabana to the water’s edge and tied the cinder block they used as an anchor to one of the handles. She loaded her cooler and makeshift anchor on one side before climbing onto the other side with an old canoe paddle that she used to push the inflatable away from the shore. When she got out past the rocks and could see the sandy bottom below, she lobbed the cinder block overboard and waited to make sure it lodged firmly in the sand.

The wind today was tricky, and she wanted to be able to relax without keeping track of the changing conditions. When she was satisfied that the anchor would hold, Julie reached into the cooler and retrieved a bottle she had filled with her special mix of Fernet con Coca. She sighed happily and stared out over the open water, feeling the tension in her shoulders subside.

It was Monday. The weekend people had gone home. From what she could see, she was a lone soul adrift on the sea. She leaned back and closed her eyes. Between her hat and her sunglasses, she had it made in the shade. Soon the gentle rocking of waves lulled her into a light sleep.

After a while, she jolted awake. What the hell, she thought? She had always been a light sleeper. How had this happened? She could already tell she was sunburned. Not badly but enough that she should get out of the sun a.s.a.p. She reached for her paddle to turn the raft toward shore. Where was the paddle? It wasn’t in the seat next to her. Did she drop it? The waves had picked up.

Julie rolled onto her belly and looked out over the backrest toward the beach. The lakeshore was probably half a mile away. She was gripped by panic. Instinctively, she moved to haul up the anchor which would be drifting through the deep blue waters like a fish basket about now. She reached over to heave up the heavy stone but there was no tension on the line. In fact, the rope was floating near the surface, only a few feet away. She pulled it in and examined the frayed end. Hair rose on the back of her neck.

Julie tried to stay calm as she assessed the situation. She could lower herself halfway into the water and use her legs to kick towards shore. Or she could abandon ship and swim for it, alone in the open water. She was a strong swimmer but the lake currents were unpredictable, and she was afraid of the inky depths. Drowning due to panic was a concern. Of course, drowning in general was a concern. She looked for a towel or anything she could use as a sail. The wind was blowing toward shore - at least for the moment. Surely someone might see her from atop the ridge and call for help. Cars went up and down Lakeshore Road all day.

She surveyed the shore again. She had floated so far out she could see the whole beach. A small figure walking along the shore seemed to stop and look toward her. Julie waved frantically. Whoever it was, she was certain they were looking right at her, hands on hips, but the figure turned and kept walking.

Her mind raced with thoughts too terrible to put into words. She tried the emergency call feature on her cell. No luck. The wind died down and the water became placid. She lowered herself into the lake. It was cold like betrayal.

Someone will come, she thought. Someone in a kayak. Or Dean will come home early and notice me missing. Or Delaney… No, not Delaney.

She thought back to high school phys ed class when students were required to swim a mile to graduate. Twenty-six laps. That was thirty years ago. It doesn’t matter, she thought. This can’t be as far as that was. Just float, she told herself, backstroke then float.

Gazing up at the sky made it all less scary than looking toward shore. She pulled the bright raft by the frayed rope, hoping it might attract attention from the road and leaned back in the water. As she began to swim, Julie looked toward the heavens and felt the universe embrace her.