Free Flashover by Dana Mentink Page B

streets were quiet except for the leaves chattering in the branches. She looked over her shoulder for any sign of an attacker.
    Without warning, her anxiety came out in words. She turned her face to the clouded sky. “So what are You doing up there, God? Is this just another way to punish me? When You took my sister, You gave me a calling, as least I thought You did.” Her voice rose against the wind. “Aren’t I supposed to be out saving lives and property? Isn’t that it, Lord? Now You’re going to rip that away, too? The only thing I have?” And maybe Tim, too? she added silently. She wanted to hit, strike out at something, someone. The only sound came from the swirl of leaves on the fingers of a playful wind.
    Head bowed, fatigue soaking into every muscle, she closed the distance to her mother’s house.
    Her depression was complete when she read the note propped on the kitchen table.
    Sorry, Ivy honey, if you came. I wasn’t sure and the pastor asked me to take a meal to Mrs. Ronald, who has broken her leg in a fall. I left a sandwich in the fridge for you in case you made it here. Take care and I’ll phone you tomorrow. Mama
    Mrs. Ronald was no doubt being deluged with pots of soup, containers of casserole and plates of cookies from Mama’s church folk. She’d better heal before she ate herself to death. Ivy pulled out the sandwich. Though she wasn’t hungry, she took a few bites anyway, trying to take comfort from the familiar old table, knicked from the time she and Sadie used it for a Daniel Boone fort and the cupboard that they’d loved to empty and transform into a cave.
    She was surprised when her brother let himself in the front door.
    â€œHi, Roddy. What brings you here?”
    â€œOh, hey, sis. Mama asked me to drop off a bag of lemons from my tree. Something about lemon bars. I told her fine as long as I get a couple dozen.”
    He sank down next to her at the table.
    She held up her dinner. “Want half a sandwich?”
    â€œSure, thanks. I can only stay a minute but there’s always time for food.”
    They enjoyed a comfortable silence as they ate.
    As she chewed, her thoughts returned to her sister. How would she have turned out? Would she be a teacher as she’d been studying to do? Or a circus clown, the silly dream she’d clung to since she was a preschooler? Sadie’s face swam into her vision, Sadie with her nose covered in red lipstick, trying to juggle oranges in the backyard. Sadie, who died with no one to comfort her, not so much as a squeeze from her sister’s hand.
    Ivy put down the remaining crust of bread. “How come it didn’t change you?”
    Roddy looked startled. “What?”
    â€œSadie’s death. You don’t talk about it.”
    He shifted on the chair. “I’m not a ‘talk about your feelings’ kinda guy, Ivy. You know that.”
    â€œI know, I know. But didn’t it mess you up at all?”
    He considered, his eyes searching her face. “Sure. It was terrible. I don’t dwell on it.”
    â€œYou don’t dwell on it?” She was suddenly angry. “She was our sister. How can you just put her out of your mind like a bad meal or a disappointing football game?”
    Roddy sighed, wiping his hands on a paper napkin. “I didn’t say I put her out of my mind. I loved Sadie. I enjoy reliving the moments we had together, the fun we had as a family. I choose to remember how she lived, not how she died. If you only stay rooted in that moment she was killed, you kind of disrespect her life, you know?” He got up from the table and kissed the top of her head. “Ivy, I know it was hard for you, being there when it happened and all, but Sadie loved life and she wouldn’t have wanted you to spend the rest of yours grieving.”
    She watched him go, afraid to speak because of a sudden thickening in her throat.
    At the door, Roddy