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I watched the fire burn down with everything we owned. My husband, Charles, was trapped in the fire. There was no possible chance of
escaping. I knew there was no hope for him. I could hear his moaning through the crackling of the giant flames. My daughter was cradled in my arms. I
looked down at her, but could only see half her face, as my hands were
covering her big blue eyes.
“Rayne, pay no attention. Look away,” I said to the baby cradled in my arms.
If not for Charles, she would be in that fire. He had gone in and
saved her life, but now, slowly and painfully, he was losing his own.
It was as if he was yelling to me his final words, despite the great
pain he was suffering, “Lucille, my bride, Rayne, my child, I love you!” That
was it.
I whispered to myself, “I love you, Charles.”
Then, with Rayne
sleeping in my arms, I walked away. I walked onto the highway and sat down on the
edge of the ditch. I made a small cradle shape of grass and put Rayne down.
I broke down crying. I don’t know how long I was there, but I woke up with Rayne still
asleep next to me and rush hour going on above me. I woke up, and grabbed
Rayne slowly off the ground; the longer she slept the less I would have to
worry about her. I started walking back towards the house. I wasn’t sure
what I would do there, but over the years most of my great ideas came from
that house. I walked up to where the grand house once stood and sighed. I
looked down at Rayne. She was just beginning to wake up. I glided over to
where the study used to be, and sat down in all the burnt up trash. I looked at
the spot where Rayne might have lost her life, then over at the spot where Charles spent his final moments.
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