Ruthie propped her dusty broom against the wall and made quick steps toward Iva's room. An acrid, creosote smell, like hot tar on a new roof, tickled her nose. When she arrived at the door, her blood chilled. "What the devil!" She cried as she rushed inside, stopping short of the bed. Bunt pushed past her to the footboard, smothering the flames with an old rug.
"What you standing there for?" He yelled. "The girl!" With caution, Ruthie approached the side of the bed, where Iva sat curled up against the headboard. The scent of whiskey clung to the smoky air as she reached for the frightened girl.
"It's all right." She took her niece's trembling hand in her own. "Everything's all right now."
Ruthie gathered the girl in her arms rocking her gently while exchanging a troubled, but knowing, glance with Bunt.
After clearing the smoke from Iva's room, Bunt volunteered to sleep on the sofa. He gathered their extra bedding and set off for the living room in silence while Ruthie guided a still shaken Iva to their bedroom.
"Go on, hop in." Instructing the girl, she folded the blanket on their bed and tucked her inside before departing the room. When she returned, she brought Iva's favorite stuffed toy, a bear named, Mr. Redding. "I found a friend to keep you company." Ruthie placed the toy beside her. "Now get some rest," she whispered, but as she went to leave the room again, Iva called to her.
"Is uncle Bunt gon' whup me?" There was a slight tremor in the girl's voice that wasn't there before.
Ruthie paused, surveying Iva's world-weary brown face. Her cavernous eyes conveyed more than any words could communicate. She pressed her lips to Iva's forehead, hoping the gesture would offer some comfort and reassurance.
"Don't you fret," she told her, as she sat on the edge of the bed. "No spankings today."
"But..." Iva hesitated, her weighted gaze too weary for a child her age to possess. "Uncle Bunt said if there's one more fire. He gon' find out who doin' it and...and..." She pulled the covers up to her eyes now wet with tears. "Ain't he mad?" Ruthie shook her head, shushing the girl, and swaddling her tighter inside the blanket.
"Is he mad." Ruthie pulled the blanket from Iva's face. "Don't you worry. None of this is your fault." Wiping Iva's tears away, she sighed. "Your Uncle Bunt say a lot of things. It'll be all right in the morning." She leaned in and kissed her forehead again. "Come on now, get some sleep. Wouldn't want you to miss that church picnic." She hummed a soft tune and stroked Iva's thick hair plaits that had long come undone. As the lullaby wound to its conclusion, Ruthie spied the girl's struggles to keep her eyes open until sleep overtook her. Instead of joining Iva in bed, Ruthie made a soundless trek through the hallway toward the living-room with hopes of catching Bunt before he turned down for the night. Along the way, her niece's words replayed in her thoughts, encasing her in a cloud of doubt.
Uncle Bunt said if there's one more fire...
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Fire in the Blood: A Magic Realism Short FictionMystery / Thriller
After a cluster of mysterious fires, tensions mount between a husband and wife when suspicion falls on their traumatized niece. This is a short preview of a published work. It is not the full story. You can download the full story from most major...