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Authors: Patricia Sprinkle
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“I beat out the fire, but the furniture’s charred and some of the dishes got broke. Valerie?” he raised his voice. “You get in here, you hear me?”
The only answer was a whimper from the living room.
He called, unmoved. “Don’t you cower in there like this ain’t your fault. We all know it good and well is. You come on in here, now.”
He stomped over to the sink and peered down at the bear. “Rest in peace, Mama.”
While he examined the bear, I examined him. He was tall and stocky with a wiry red-gold beard and frizzy gold hair holding a glint of red. It was pulled back in a wet braid about a foot long, tied with a leather thong that matched those on his wrists. The rest of his hair was dry except for a few springy tendrils that were oddly soft against his heavy face. He was dressed all in black. Black jeans, slung low and drooping, soaked by the rain. Wide black belt dotted with huge silver studs. Black short-sleeved shirt to show off a tattoo of a golden sword with red flames all around it. Appropriate.
I didn’t see Valerie until she gasped, “Oh! My apron got burnt up!” Forlorn, she peered down at the mess in the sink. “It’s absolutely ruined.” She lifted one charred orange scrap and held it to her cheek. Tears rolled past it and through it.
“The whole house nearly got burnt up.” The man reached around Valerie and poked the bear with a wooden spoon from the dish drainer. “Poor Mama Bear is done for. What were you doing, Valerie?” His voice was both disgusted and puzzled.
“Lighting the fire.”
He started toward the living room. “Omigod, the whole place’ll be burning down.”
She caught his arm. “It’s okay. There’s a screen in front of it.”
He shook his head in dismay. “I’ve told you not to play with matches.”
“I know, but I wanted her to get warm.” She pointed my way. “She was shivering.”
Her past tense was correct. There’s nothing like a good fire to warm a body up.
The man turned to look at me good for the first time. With two blue-eyed golden giants standing before me and the sink sending up intermittent wisps of steam, I felt like I’d wandered into Valhalla. He’d have looked at home in a horned helmet, she in flowing robes holding a giant chalice of mead.
“Who are you?” he demanded. Or maybe, given his size, that was his normal way of asking for things. I suspected he usually got what he asked for.
“Judge Yarbrough.” I emphasized the first word, although I seldom introduce myself that way. He was the person most likely to have given Valerie that bruised cheek, and I wanted him to know who and what he was dealing with. “I came to see Henry, and Valerie invited me in for—a glass of tea.” No point in reminding Valerie she had offered hot coffee. The way her mind worked, she’d probably insist on making it right then. “When she tried to light the fire, a stray match must have landed in Mama Bear’s lap.”
He grabbed Valerie’s arm and gave her a shake that would have felled a lesser woman. “She’s sweet, but not wholly reliable around dangerous objects. Not real punctual, either. We need to get going, hon.”
“Oh!” She clapped a hand to her mouth in dismay. “I need to change. I only got home a few minutes ago. And I’ll need to cover—you know.” Her hand reached toward her eye and poked her cheek. She winced.
“Go, then.” He ignored the wince and pushed her toward the door.
As she ran up the stairs, I said, “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Maybe because we’ve been too busy for me to give it. Frank. Frank Sparks.” He gave a rumble of a laugh. “You’ve had enough sparks for one day, ain’t you?”
I thought of Henry’s fire in the shed and Valerie’s in the house. “Just about.”
I was feeling sick about Edie’s house. The air was smoky, her carpet was pocked with burns, her little tableau was ruined, and I had no idea how much she valued the table, chair, dishes, or Mama Bear. If
The only answer was a whimper from the living room.
He called, unmoved. “Don’t you cower in there like this ain’t your fault. We all know it good and well is. You come on in here, now.”
He stomped over to the sink and peered down at the bear. “Rest in peace, Mama.”
While he examined the bear, I examined him. He was tall and stocky with a wiry red-gold beard and frizzy gold hair holding a glint of red. It was pulled back in a wet braid about a foot long, tied with a leather thong that matched those on his wrists. The rest of his hair was dry except for a few springy tendrils that were oddly soft against his heavy face. He was dressed all in black. Black jeans, slung low and drooping, soaked by the rain. Wide black belt dotted with huge silver studs. Black short-sleeved shirt to show off a tattoo of a golden sword with red flames all around it. Appropriate.
I didn’t see Valerie until she gasped, “Oh! My apron got burnt up!” Forlorn, she peered down at the mess in the sink. “It’s absolutely ruined.” She lifted one charred orange scrap and held it to her cheek. Tears rolled past it and through it.
“The whole house nearly got burnt up.” The man reached around Valerie and poked the bear with a wooden spoon from the dish drainer. “Poor Mama Bear is done for. What were you doing, Valerie?” His voice was both disgusted and puzzled.
“Lighting the fire.”
He started toward the living room. “Omigod, the whole place’ll be burning down.”
She caught his arm. “It’s okay. There’s a screen in front of it.”
He shook his head in dismay. “I’ve told you not to play with matches.”
“I know, but I wanted her to get warm.” She pointed my way. “She was shivering.”
Her past tense was correct. There’s nothing like a good fire to warm a body up.
The man turned to look at me good for the first time. With two blue-eyed golden giants standing before me and the sink sending up intermittent wisps of steam, I felt like I’d wandered into Valhalla. He’d have looked at home in a horned helmet, she in flowing robes holding a giant chalice of mead.
“Who are you?” he demanded. Or maybe, given his size, that was his normal way of asking for things. I suspected he usually got what he asked for.
“Judge Yarbrough.” I emphasized the first word, although I seldom introduce myself that way. He was the person most likely to have given Valerie that bruised cheek, and I wanted him to know who and what he was dealing with. “I came to see Henry, and Valerie invited me in for—a glass of tea.” No point in reminding Valerie she had offered hot coffee. The way her mind worked, she’d probably insist on making it right then. “When she tried to light the fire, a stray match must have landed in Mama Bear’s lap.”
He grabbed Valerie’s arm and gave her a shake that would have felled a lesser woman. “She’s sweet, but not wholly reliable around dangerous objects. Not real punctual, either. We need to get going, hon.”
“Oh!” She clapped a hand to her mouth in dismay. “I need to change. I only got home a few minutes ago. And I’ll need to cover—you know.” Her hand reached toward her eye and poked her cheek. She winced.
“Go, then.” He ignored the wince and pushed her toward the door.
As she ran up the stairs, I said, “I didn’t catch your name.”
“Maybe because we’ve been too busy for me to give it. Frank. Frank Sparks.” He gave a rumble of a laugh. “You’ve had enough sparks for one day, ain’t you?”
I thought of Henry’s fire in the shed and Valerie’s in the house. “Just about.”
I was feeling sick about Edie’s house. The air was smoky, her carpet was pocked with burns, her little tableau was ruined, and I had no idea how much she valued the table, chair, dishes, or Mama Bear. If
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