'love is a fire, but whether it is going to warm your heart or burn down your house, you can never tell'
AURELIE THOMPSON; that's pronounced Ora-ly, like lying, not ora-lee. Though that should be fairly obvious, many people still get the two mixed up. Although, Aurelie didn't mind it all that much. In fact, she thought Ora-Lee to be a prettier pronunciation. Her mother, who had chosen the name at birth, did not quite agree with it, though, so Aurelie made sure to correct anyone who didn't say it correctly.
Aurelie lived in a beautiful house made of stone on top of a hill. It was built and designed by her parents just before she was born. Aurelie loved the house. Not for its polished floors, not for its size (which wouldn't matter anyway since it wasn't a grand home), but for its garden.
Aurelie absolutely loved to garden. She knew the name of almost every flower that could possibly grow in all of Canada. Her mother, Alice, owned a successful flower shop in town. Aurelie loved to attend work with Alice on days where she wasn't at home learning.
Her father, Arthur, a well-known author in Avonlea, taught Aurelie from home. He was an educated man. His success in writing definitely brought wealth to the family, added to Alice's shop. However, the Thompson's didn't bother flaunting their wealth.
It was a beautiful day. It was not sunny, nor warm. In fact, it was a little chilly. Though, it was a beautiful day for gardening. The rain from the previous day had watered all of the flowers. Aurelie loved to watch the little drops of water slowly slide down the petals.
Aurelie would lay on the grass for hours, no matter how wet her dress was afterwards. Today was no different. She lay on the wet grass while her mother planted new flowers for her shop.
"This habit of yours is a lot of work for me, Aurelie. Washing out those grass stains from your dresses every time is getting tiring." Spoke Alice. Aurelie grinned, then sat up.
"Maybe it's best to have a little more hard work in life, hmm?" Prattled Aurelie. Her mother scoffed, shaking her head slowly while she smiled to herself. "Put your own advice to good use. Lying down on grass and watching water slowly slip off of the flowers is far from hard work, don't you think?" Alice raised her eyebrows. Aurelie didn't respond.
"Go inside and help your father make dinner." Alice requested.
"Father's making dinner?" Aurelie grimaced.
"Now, you know he's trying his very best. I've got him to follow Martha Carlson's new cooking book. That woman has amazing recipes." Alice pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail, and placed her hat on top of her head. "Now, off you go."
Aurelie stood up, groaning. "Father makes awful food." She complained.
"Aurelie..." Alice began sternly.
"I'm going! I'm going!" Aurelie raised her hands in defeat, making her way back inside, where her father stood by the stove.
"I'm making 'Martha's Marvelous Meatloaf.'" Announced Arthur in an exaggerated accent.
"Sounds marvelous." Copied Aurelie, stepping up beside him. "We're not going to get food poisoning again, are we?" She wondered.
"That was one time." Arthur defended.
"One too many." Mumbled the girl, pushing past her father to reach for the bowl of salt. "And maybe don't make it so...plain." She handed the bowl to him.
"I'll let you get away with bossing me around just this once, Lie. Don't want you and your mother throwing up all over the bathroom floor again." The man shuddered at the thought.
"Greatly appreciated. For your consideration, I offer you, a Begonia. I stole from it the garden." Aurelie held up the pink flower. "Don't tell mom." She whispered. Arthur chuckled.
"Don't tell me what?" Asked the blonde woman as she entered the kitchen.
"Tell you something? I have nothing to tell you." Arthur acted clueless, even though it was obvious Alice knew what was happening.
"I need these flowers for my shop, Aura. The only flowers you are allowed to take are the ones you grow on the side." Alice reminded.
"Oh, but the ones you grow are so beautiful!" Aurelie argued. She turned to her father, who was holding the flower.
"Did you know that Begonia flowers are a genus of perennial flowering plants in the family Begoniaceae." Aurelie began. "I have no idea if I'm pronouncing any of that correctly." She chuckled.
"Wow." Arthur nodded in interest.
"The genus also contains more than 2,000 different plant species. The Begonias are native to moist subtropical and tropical climates." Aurelie added. "It's fascinating, don't you think?"
"I think that you and your father are spending a lot of time reading about flowers, rather than doing your long division exercises." Alice commented.
"Maybe I just want to grow up to do what you do, Mother. I don't plan to be a mathematician." Aurelie shrugged.
"Yes, I have no doubt in that." Alice stated. "How is the food coming along?" Wondered the woman.
"Salty." Responded Arthur with a bitter expression after having tasted part of the meatloaf.
"First, you forget to put salt, now you put too much." Aurelie sighed, shaking her head in disappointment.
"I didn't know we had a professional chef at home." Arthur raised his eyebrows.
"I'm a professional everything, dear Father." Aurelie joked.
"Clearly." Arthur set down the meatloaf on the wooden table in the center of the room. Aurelie and Alice took their regular seats.
"Maybe we should be like regular families and have the mother cook dinner." Aurelie whispered. Her mother hit the table near Aurelie's hand.
"What?" Aurelie shrugged as if she had said nothing wrong.
"Your father is learning. I am a little preoccupied with the shop these days." Alice sighed. Though she was amused by her daughter's comments, she still wanted Aurelie to learn to respect the family.
"Learning is one way to put it." Joked the young brunette.
"You know, maybe it's Martha's fault. Maybe her recipes are faulty." Arthur suggested, taking a bite from his meatloaf, but was visibly disgusted after.
"Uh oh." Aurelie pursed her lips.
"What?" Arthur furrowed his eyebrows.
"You don't just insult Martha Carlson in front of Mother and expect to get away with it." Aurelie whispered.
"And she's right about that." Alice spoke up. "Imagine I insulted Edgar Allen Poe." She turned to her husband.
"I would gladly take the criticism." Arthur smirked. Alice shook her head with a smile, looking back down at her plate.
"Well, I'd like to go upstairs to my room. I forgot to water the plants there this morning." Aurelie stood up from her seat.
"Take your dishes to the sink." Alice instructed.
"Always do." Aurelie assured, picking up her plate and setting it down on the counter by the sink.
***
Much later at night, long after Aurelie decided to go to sleep, the brunette awoke to the smell of smoke. She quickly sat up. It was insanely hot, contradictory to the chill that was outside.
In a panic, Aurelie stood up, and made her way to the door. The entire hallway was engulfed in flames. "Mother! Father!" She called out. "Hello?" There was no response.
She went to step out into the hallway, though the floor in front of her door collapsed. She spun back around, and made her way to her bedroom window. She pulled it open and hopped down, landing first on the small roof piece that was built over the back door, then down to the grass.
She hoped to see her parents outside, though no one was there. However, it seemed that the neighbours noticed smoke coming from the mountain, as there was a crowd outside already forming. Firefighters were arriving as well.
Aurelie stared at the burning house in terror. She noticed the garden was already destroyed.
Aurelie stood there, no emotion visible on her face. She stared at her home, slowly being destroyed. Suddenly, she was relieved when her mother left the house. She was coughing uncontrollably, but she was alive. However, her sobbing made Aurelie more uneasy.
Arthur Thompson never came out of that house. Later, they would find the remains of a stove that was never turned off.