Defeated, I stood.
Just over the tree line, a thin trail of smoke rose into the clear blue sky. I tore a thick branch from a nearby bush and placed it over the necklace, then I jogged toward the fleeting smoke, knowing I was close to my old home. After some distance, the trees thinned out, and where my parent’s mansion once stood, only the walls of the east wing remained. I scanned the area looking for signs of life. If someone had come to inspect the source of the fire, they weren’t here now.
I approached what was left of the home. Several fires burned low in different areas, and coals glowed bright. I carefully rounded the back to the remaining brick walls. There I found a few of my family’s belongings that had not yet been destroyed. There was no sadness for the lost items. They were only reminders of a life I didn’t want to remember.
Using a stick to poke through the remaining items, I tried to ignore the searing heat even when blisters formed on my feet and lower legs. Luckily, it didn’t take long for me to find something I could use.
I bent down and used the bottom section of my nightgown to wrap up a small circular metal box. And even though the metal burned through my gown and to my hands, I maintained a tight grip. Pain was something I was used to.
Back in the forest, I removed the tree branch from over the necklace. The blood within it was back to looking frozen and still. I fell to my knees, letting my mother’s jewelry box roll out of the nightgown and to the ground. The word “Sable” was elegantly etched into the circular lid.
The box, once a brilliant gold, now was a dark rust color with burned splotches. I opened the lid, knowing it would be empty. This box only ever contained one object: my mother’s favorite ruby ring. She wore it more than any other piece of jewelry, and the box was only used to house the ring at night.
Carefully, I used a stick to lift the necklace from the ground. As I lifted it, the blood within the orb once again came to life. It thrashed inside the glass as if searching for a way out like a caged lion. I placed the necklace inside the jewelry box and closed the lid. With the necklace no longer in view, I let out a sigh of relief, but didn’t relax too much. My task was not yet over.
I picked up the box and carried it to the long driveway leading to the destroyed mansion. The row of gnarled, angry-looking trees stood impervious to the earlier blaze. I walked past each one, eyeing them closely until I stopped in front of the third tree. It had a gaping knot in the center of the trunk as if a mouth forming the word “Oh!”
Using the same stick I’d used to transfer the necklace to the box, I dug at the base of the tree. I shoveled until the branch snapped, forcing me to use my hands. I dug as far as I could until the rocks became too big. After placing the jewelry box inside, I quickly buried it and made the top appear as if the ground had never been disturbed.
I stood up and inhaled deeply. With the necklace out of the way, I could finally concentrate on what to do next. There was no question that I would have to leave New York. Erik and Sable would come looking for me. My only hope was that they’d think I had died in the fire.
In the meantime, I needed help, and there was only one person whom I felt I could trust: Liane. I had to find a phone.
It took my about twenty minutes to find my way to the nearest neighbor. I wasn’t worried about them recognizing me, as I’d never met them before, nor had my parents. According to Erik, our neighbors were below even a friendly nod. It wasn’t that they were poor; in fact, quite the opposite. They had a huge stucco home and drove a Ferrari, but they were regular humans, which placed them well beneath the rank of the Segurs.
The housekeeper who answered the door didn’t hesitate in letting me inside. One quick look over me—ash and soot covering my bottom half—and she asked, “You were in that fire, weren’t you?”
Before I could answer, she told me her name was Lucy and that she was the one who had called the police the night before when she saw the fire on her way home. They had told her that because of all the recent fires in the cities, and because the fire was so far out in the country, no fire fighters would be coming. Instead they sent two police offers who, according to Lucy, simply watched the house burn down.
“They may as well have roasted marshmallows on that there fire,” she said with obvious disgust. Then she asked me the one question I was hoping for: “Did everyone else get out okay?”