Chapter Three
Kiara
I had been to the top of that pine tree when I was five years old and wanted to be an eagle. I was going to fly away, over the seas, and spend the morning with my father. I remember how Donna Martin spied me from her kitchen empire and hollered until our neighbor's chauffeur fetched me down with a ladder.
I had also built an attic escape one cold, stormy fall. It was a bright tent away from the tight knot of empty rooms below me. I remember candles in mason jars, and the bright patterns of the warm blankets felt more like home those chilly months. The bright, brass hooks I used to hold up my quilted tent flashed when the pine tree fell through the roof.
When I saw them reflect the growing fire, I started running. My mind was yelling, in my father's military voice, Do something!
I was going to grab the garden hose before the flames got too high and keep the fire under control until the fire department arrived. It was going to work. I wasn't going to watch my family's home—the only home I had ever known—be devoured by flames. I was almost to the fence, right hand out for a practiced vault over the split-rails, when Teddy caught me around the waist.
He lifted me up in the air, my legs kicking out, and I felt his forearm like steel around my waist. He was a lot stronger than his casual slouch ever betrayed. The well-bred idleness that encapsulated his whole look burned away as he scooped me up and shielded me from the blistering heat of the growing flames.
He saved my life.
I would have stood near the outside faucet, right where the living room windows burst. If Teddy hadn't stopped me, I would have been two feet from the place where the fire broke free and consumed the cottage whole.
Then, he let go and tangled both hands in his own, blond hair. The look of anguish he gave the flames made me wonder what he saw there. He stumbled back, but I had to look away; I had to watch as the fire burned away my home.
I kept my eyes fastened to where that wide, bay window used to be. It was nothing but angry, billowing, black smoke now. Every once in a while, there was the red-hot stare of the smoldering fire, and I felt like it winked devilishly at me. I was determined to face it down and see it die in the ashes, but the EMTs tugged me away.
"I will not put on that sweatshirt, I'm fine," I snapped.
The EMT with the freckles shoved the blaze-orange sweatshirt back at me and shook her head. "You're going to go into shock at some point, and that cocktail dress is not going to keep you warm."
"Here, take my jacket," Teddy said.
The EMT melted away with her mouth hanging open as Teddy Brickman appeared in the doors of the ambulance. I scooted forward, determined to escape their ministrations while they were distracted with his highness, but Teddy stopped me.
"Kiara, please. You're going to get cold. Put this on."
I shoved his tailored jacket back in his face. "I'll be fine. There's this big bonfire nearby."
"After something like this, people go into shock. You're going to need your strength," Teddy said in a strange echo of my father's usual sentiments.
"Hey, I'll take that sweatshirt," I called out the open ambulance doors.
The EMT with the freckles popped back up instantly with a broad smile for Teddy. "Here you go, ah, Ms. Davies."
"Is there anything else you can do for her?" Teddy asked.
I scowled, "I'm fine."
"I can call your family, just give me their numbers," she said, eager to please.
I ground my teeth. "I already told you that my family is out of contact."
The EMT batted her eyelashes at Teddy. "I offered, but that's what she said before."
Teddy turned away from the starry-eyed EMT and scrubbed a hand across his stubbled chin. "Where on Earth can your family be that we can't call in this day in age?"
I took in a deep, jagged breath through my nose and hoped that Teddy hadn't noticed. It took a few seconds before I could banish the tremor from my voice and said, "My father and brother are both overseas, most likely in Afghanistan, though I am not cleared to know more precisely."
"Military?" Teddy asked, complete surprise covering his face.
"Marines," I bit out. The admission made me straighten my spine under the borrowed sweatshirt.
"A long career for your father," Teddy started to piece it together. "That's why you always seemed to be alone over here."
"Over here?" I snapped, shoving him aside as I climbed out of the ambulance. "As if you have any ties to this place. You thought it was some sort of abandoned garden shed!"
"I never said that," he protested. His hand caught my upper arm, and again, I felt that hidden strength in his grip. "I would never say that. I always, ah, admired your home. I'm sorry about everything."
"Let go of the young woman," Donna Martin called. She pushed aside firefighters and brandished her walking stick. "I swear to the great Lord in heaven, if you are threatening to send your lawyers her way, I will chase you off this property myself!"
Teddy let go with a surprised smile. "Donna Martin. It's so nice to see you again."
"Step aside, Boy Brickman. Kiara, dear, are you all right? Please tell me you didn't get hurt. I saw the flames from my window," she said as she wrapped a wiry arm around my shoulders.
"Kiara, please. What can I do?" Teddy asked.
"Go home," I said with a tremor in my voice.
It was too much—the look of anguish and the complete sincerity on his face. His sympathy was obvious and all the more impossible to bear because of that. The firefighters admired him even as they sweated to put out the fire. Even Donna Martin was gruffly pleased that he was there and remembered her.
She squeezed my hand and whispered, "You go ahead and make him pay. He can afford it. And he really wants to help."
The last was said with such a tapering off of admiration that my spine went ramrod straight. I wasn't going to be Teddy Brickman's charity case.
"Go home, Teddy," I said again, stronger. "I'm sure your lawyers will be along soon to tell you it was all an accident and that you have nothing to worry about."
He nodded and headed off across the lawn just as the young police officer with the shiny, black hair passed him. The policeman tipped his hat and had to blink a few times in order to wipe the awe off his face. He'd just casually exchanged greetings with Teddy Brickman.
"It was his fault," I told the awe-struck police officer. "Teddy Brickman and his guests got out of control and tipped a burning pine tree onto my home."
The officer nodded, his hair reflecting the hot spots that still smoldered where my family's home once stood. "It has already been ruled an accident by the fire department. Seems the fire chief sends guys out to review your property since it is largely uninhabited. They noticed that pine tree on Mr. Brickman’s property was dead. They had yet to inform Mr. Brickman of that fact, so he is not to blame."
"So, I should sue the fire department?" I asked.
The young police officer stammered, "Wait, why? Why would you do that?"
I gestured with futile anger to the glowing pit that used to be my home. "Everything I had was just burnt to the ground."
He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, you're right. I was just speaking with the fire chief, and he was saying what a relief this must be to you. Now you can sell the property and live comfortably. You and your whole family."
"The fire chief said that?" I rolled up the sleeves of the ridiculous orange sweatshirt.
The policeman frantically stepped in front of me and held up his hands. "They said no one had lived here for a long time. It's been considered a tear-down, almost abandoned, for a few years now."
Since I left for law school, I thought.
"I should have been more sensitive to your loss. I'm sorry," he said.
I pounced on his sympathy. "So, what's going to happen to Teddy Brickman now, Thompson?" I asked, reading his badge.
Officer Thompson swallowed hard. "Why would anything happen to Mr. Brickman? It was ruled an accident. You have insurance, right? Everything will be fine."
I threw my hands in the air and the overlarge sleeves of the blaze orange sweatshirt flapped. "You know that Teddy Brickman has twenty fireplaces in that mansion? Two in the ballroom. I saw for myself! And, of all the rooms and all the acres that he owns, he decides to have a bonfire by my back fence? That doesn't strike you as unnecessary? Have you ever considered that he just 'accidentally' made it easier for him to buy up my family property?"
"I could consider that," Officer Thompson said, not without a glimmer of intelligence and sympathy. "I just wasn't sure you wanted to go that route. You don't seem to like it out here all that much. Maybe this fire is a good way for you to move on?"
I fisted the long sleeves of the sweatshirt into tight balls and squeezed. "The only reason I don't like it out here is that everyone makes sure I know that I don't belong. Just because I don't have a multi-million-dollar trust fund doesn't mean I can't call this home. I don't have another home!"
Donna stepped between me and the conflicted police officer. "Now, dear, just give yourself some time to take this all in. You don't have to make any decisions tonight. Tonight, you just have to let this all sink in. Take it slowly now, dear, please."
She steered me away from the ambulance and the still-struggling firefighters. On the opposite edge of my property, the one that edged her employer's grand estate, she gave me a tight hug. "You're a fine girl, Kiara. A beauty inside and out. That means you'll always belong anywhere you choose to be."
"That's just it," I said with a heavy hitch in my voice. "I can't even choose to be here anymore."
I looked back at the thick smoke that hung around my family home. I knew when it cleared, there would be nothing left but a blackened outline of the cottage.
I had never lived anywhere else except my small apartment in Brooklyn. My mother had died in her brass bed overlooking the Atlantic. It was the only place I had ever gone when the world seemed ready to crash in on me.
And now it was gone.
"Come, dear. You can stay with me tonight," Donna said.
"Mrs. Martin, there you are. I was worried when I saw you heading over here." Donna's employer, a retired banker of epic proportions—both physically and financially—ambled through the gate and onto my rough driveway where he was shocked to see me. "I'm sorry. I thought the place had been abandoned."
My heart twisted hard, and I had to look away. I had abandoned my childhood home, just as I had been abandoned for duty time and time again. I wondered if the cottage had felt just as empty as I did. I had abandoned the only home I had ever loved, and now it was gone.
"Come, Mrs. Martin; we must let her deal with this in her own way."
Donna shook her head, but her employer led her back through the gate. His generosity funded her comfortable retirement, but she still hesitated.
I shook my head. "I'll be fine, Donna. Thank you."
Hours later, when not only had the sun set but the moon as well, the firefighters finally called it a night and went home. I lied and told them I was staying with Donna Martin in the guest wing of the neighboring estate, and they had no reason to not to believe me. I didn't cry until every light had disappeared along the curve of Long Island.
The first tears were silent and slipped off my face as I walked around the wreckage that was once our cozy, little cottage. It was such a small footprint of blackened earth that I felt even worse. Our little scrap of a house had stood between looming palaces for so long. It felt as if a battle my family always wanted to fight had finally been lost.
I half expected to run into Teddy Brickman as I circled near the split-rail fence. His face had shown such concern that I looked out over his sweeping lawns and peered at the spot where he had waved from the portico.
Then, I stumbled over a sharp pine branch and shook myself back into reality.
Teddy Brickman hadn't shown any real concern as his party invaded my privacy. He'd let his bottle-blonde girlfriend talk down to me and belittle my family's place in the neighborhood. He'd tried to stop me from standing too close to his charming friend Roger, as if I was somehow going to cheapen him.
He'd also saved me from plunging into the hopeless fire.
There was more than a long, elegant expanse of dark lawn between us. It might as well have been an entire canyon. Teddy Brickman was a billionaire, and I didn't even have cab fare back to Brooklyn.
I stopped and lost my grip on loud, ragged sobs. I was stuck on Long Island with no place to stay. It would still be forty-eight hours before my paycheck transferred into my bank account, and until then, I couldn't get anywhere without charity.
I forced myself to keep walking and take in the entire scope of the wreckage. Ironically, the stone fireplace was the only feature still standing. I stopped again, enveloped in the ash-covered shadows of a memory.
My father had leaned against that fireplace mantle and stirred the coals a few years ago. I had hovered in the tight doorway to the kitchen and started to beg him again. "Please, I'm old enough now. Take me with you."
"I can't, Kiara. We promised your mother. Besides, you're building a really nice life. Your grades mean you can go anywhere." My father had looked down at the fire instead of me.
"Let me join up so I'm not always left behind."
"No, Kiara. It's not the life for you." My father had closed the conversation and said nothing more.
I had ended up sleeping outside in a tent that night. My brother had gratefully taken the bed I had abandoned, but my father hadn't said a word. I’d wanted to show him how strong I was, how capable, but I just woke up feeling more miserable than ever. They shipped out two days later, and I was alone again.
I ground my cheap, black heels into the ashes. Anyone else would have been sifting through the soot looking for photographs and other keepsakes. What little the cabin held had been put there by me, and all of it felt temporary. There weren't any photographs. I only had a few old snapshots of the whole family and, luckily, those were safe in my Brooklyn attic apartment.
The problem was, I looked exactly like my mother. I saw it every time my father returned home from a tour and flinched at the sight of me. My brother, too. I had caught him studying me out of the corner of my eye and knew he was straining to remember why I looked so familiar.
I had her hair and eyes. But I had my father’s stubborn pride.
I kicked the charred siding with my scuffed heel and turned away. I marched straight to the blackened, but unharmed, garage and yanked open the door. A bare bulb illuminated the clutter, but I saw the order. I was the one who cleaned out and sorted the stuffed garage, usually in the late fall, when I was all alone again and needed a project to keep me busy.
I sorted through boxes and crates that I had carefully labeled and found the one marked camping. Inside was the old tent, a thin, foam sleeping pad, and the tightly rolled, military-issued sleeping bag.
I had also inherited my father's strength.
It was only two nights camping out, I told myself. People would pay hundreds of dollars to camp on the ritzy expanse of Long Island with the billionaire views. I pitched the old tent by the Atlantic and made sure to face the door towards the distant horizon and away from the still-smoldering wreckage.
Wrapped up in the sleeping bag with the ocean in front of me, I gave in to one wild daydream. What if I gave in like everyone wanted me to? My father would accept my decision with the nonchalance his lifestyle had engrained in him. There was nothing left, so why fight it any longer?
My heart squeezed at the thought of never seeing that view again. It was still home, no matter what shape it was in. And, no matter how hard I tried to escape it, I was the poor, pitied daughter of the tiny shack. Either I turned my back on all of it, or I accepted what my life was.
I sat there until the bright swathes of dawn reached into the sky. The daydream burned away with the first rays of sunlight. I could never sell the property. Just like I could never pretend to be anything but a house-poor, abandoned daughter who was all alone.
I faced it all as music still drifted along the shore. Teddy's party didn't stop until the sun broke over the treetops, and I finally fell asleep.
#
The sound of the sports engine roared into my dreams, and I woke up to find myself still huddled inside the old tent. The late morning sun streamed through the canvas, and I wished I had slept long enough for the fire to have died completely. I settled back into the corner of the tent and wrapped the sleeping bag over my head.
Then, I realized the sound of the sports car had not zoomed past my driveway, but was growling its way towards me. I ripped my way out of the sleeping bag, but stopped with my hand on the tent zipper. The old, khaki-green tent was hidden by the little undergrowth the fire left behind.
I hoped whomever it was would gawk at the tragedy and then continue on their way and leave me alone.
"Oh, God, Teddy. This is bad. This is all my fault. I am so sorry," Teddy's stout friend Darren stammered as they approached the blackened pit. "I don't know how I can make it up to her."
"It was an accident," Teddy told him. "Besides, I already have a team of surveyors and my best contractor heading over this afternoon. They'll take stock of everything and give me an estimate before she hears from the insurance company."
So, Teddy Brickman was planning to offer me a deal before I even found out what our insurance would cover. My hand itched to rip open the tent flap and confront him, but I waited to hear if he would give away more of his heartless plan.
Darren chuckled. "Who knows, maybe there's one good thing that will come out of this. Your father's going to be happy to hear you’re taking the initiative on something."
Teddy snorted. "I think you're underestimating my old man. He'd probably only be impressed if I got her to accept an offer for the land. If he hears I'm building over here, he'll just assume it's a new garage and go on being disappointed in me."
"Speaking of garages," Darren joked, "you can park this little number at my place any time you need."
"You're officially cut off from driving, remember?"
Darren groaned. "So, where is Ms. Davies? From what you've said about her, I half-expected her to be here and already cleaning up."
It was too much. First, they were assessing my land and planning to build a garage for Teddy's insane car collection. Then, they were accusing me of sleeping on the job. I tore open the tent and stumbled to my feet, completely forgetting I was still in the smoky cocktail dress and blaze orange sweatshirt.
"Kiara?" Teddy cried. He strode around the darkened pile of ashes and caught a glimpse of my tent. "You slept here last night? In that thing?"
"It's called camping, rich boy," I snapped. "The question is, what are you doing here? Get off my land."
"Ms. Davies, I'm so sorry. I came to… What are you wearing?" Darren stopped next to Teddy and gawked.
I looked down at the rumpled cocktail dress. It was muddy and ripped, ruined just like everything else I owned. The orange sweatshirt the EMTs had forced on me was too big, misshapen, and offensively bright in the sunshine.
I felt my chest tighten as I squared my shoulders. "Whatever guilt you came here to unload is fine, but I'm not going to stand here and be stared at."
Darren shook himself and rushed over to take my hands. "It really was an accident. That's what happens when I try to help. I'm really sorry. Could I please secure your stay at a local bed and breakfast while you get this all sorted out?"
I tugged my hands free of his sweaty grip. "I know it was an accident. Thank you for apologizing. Like you said earlier, I have a lot of cleaning up to do, and I should have already started."
Teddy bumped his friend aside. "I already talked to a local crew about helping with the cleanup. Dumpsters and a crew should be here within the hour."
"Cleaning up before your contractor arrives? Think you'll get an early bid in on the property?" I snapped.
Teddy looked confused that my forgiving tone did not extend to him. "I thought it might help if you saw how rebuilding would progress."
"Who said I was rebuilding?" I raked my hands through my tangled hair. "In fact, I'm sure everyone at your party discussed exactly how much it would cost and how there is no way a poor girl like me could ever afford to pay for it. Or were you all just too busy drinking and dancing past dawn to remember what happened?"
I marched away from the tent, unable to bear the horrified glances both men gave it. I knew I was an object of pity, and I knew they were trying to help, but all I wanted was to be left alone. I made it to the driveway and was stopped cold by the sharp contrast between Teddy's gleaming, new sports car and the smoldering, jagged, black shell of the destroyed house.
I'll be fine once they're gone and I am alone, I told myself.
Teddy came up behind me and raised a hand to lie on my shoulder. I flinched away and gestured for him to get into his car.
"Kiara, please. Take Darren up on his offer. Or did you want a lift back to the city? We're heading that way. I could give you some money to tide you over. I could even pick you up and bring you back here once you had a chance to get what you need." Teddy ran around the bright car and held open the passenger seat. "Let Darren take the backseat. He's wanting to pay penance, anyway."
He thought he could buy me off and get me miles away from my land before his contractors arrived. The pressure in my chest threatened to explode. "Get off my property—now."
Teddy tried to convince me to let him help. Darren begged me to be reasonable. I turned away from both of them and stumbled around the wreckage. Far down on the beach, all I could hear was the roaring of the waves. Finally, after what seemed like forever, I heard the added growl of the sports car as it left and raced back towards the city.
I should have accepted the ride back. I could have left it all as it was and never looked back.
But stubbornness and strength weren't all I had inherited. This lonely, little hold-out of a property was intended for me. It was all I had, and I knew I had to stay.