Free Falling for June: A Novel by Ryan Winfield Page A

dreaming about all this time. He walked without a word into the kitchen and stood staring into those smiling eyes.
    The flyer was hung from the refrigerator by a fruit magnet, and it read: “Even racehorses deserve a happy retirement.” It was an advertisement for an animal rescue called Echo Glen, and in the picture on the flyer she had her arm around the neck of a horse as it ate grain from the palm of her hand.
    David reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out the worn and tattered sketch he had carried with him all this time. He unfolded it and held it up. Yes, he thought, if nothing else, he had in fact captured her smiling eyes.
    “It’s lovely work they do up there at Echo Glen,” the homeowner said, appearing beside David at the refrigerator. “And it’s not just horses. They rescue dogs, cats, goats, and all sorts of other animals too. Have you been out there yet?”
    “Do you know who she is?” David asked.
    “Of course,” the woman said. “Everyone knows June.”
    June. So that was her name. June. June. June. Yes, it even sounded right.
    “May I take this?” David asked, reaching and pulling the flyer free from its magnet without even waiting for a response.
    He drove home beneath the colorful bursts of fireworks, but he hardly saw them at all; his heart was bursting with an excitement brighter still. He was half tempted to keep going when he reached Seattle and drive to the address on the flyer, but he decided against it and spent a near-sleepless night in his bed, reaching countless times for the lamp so he could pick up the flyer and look again at her face.
    The next morning he was up before dawn and in the freeway fast lane, heading north out of the city. In the seat next to him he had the flyer and a map. When he finally arrived at Echo Glen, the gates were open, but he hesitated in the street with his blinker on, too nervous to turn up the drive and too committed to turn back. But as so often happens, fate madethe decision for him in the form of a honking lumber truck barreling down on him in his rearview mirror. He turned in and drove through the gates.
    It was a beautiful property, with gorgeous orchards and sweeping fields cut through by a clear mountain creek. The road turned at a fence line and led him up past barns and stables to a circular drive at the end of which stood the house. He took a deep breath, climbed the steps to the porch, and rapped on the door. He must have stood there for a long time; he must have felt his courage draining away with each unanswered knock. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be, he thought. Maybe she wouldn’t want to see him.
    He was returning to his car when he heard voices from beyond one of the barns. Deciding he’d come too far to turn back so easily, he went to investigate. When he rounded the corner, his heart leaped in his chest. But yours would have too.
    Beyond the barn was a barren circle of dirt and in the center of the circle stood a man on fire. The man was staggering about like a fire-engulfed zombie, helicoptering his flaming arms. But he was not alone. There were other people circled around him, watching. Watching, but not helping.
    David rushed into the circle, stripping off his coat as he pushed through the idle spectators and wrapping it around the burning man to smother the flames. It was a heroic image, the two of them embracing there in the dirt circle with flames licking up between them. Then someone tackled David to the ground and he heard the hollow whoooosh of a fire extinguisher. Then someone yelled, “What’s hot?” And he heard the reply, “Nothing. Nothing. I’m fine.” And then someone was pulling him to his feet and shaking him by the shoulders, asking, “Are you crazy, comrade?”
    David could smell gasoline and his own burned hair. He was standing in the center of the circle and all eyes were on him.Slowly, very slowly, the way a Polaroid picture might develop, he began to see what was happening.
    The man who had