Page 3 of Phoenix Fire

“Please, call me Jay or Jason. Mister is not allowed.”

“Okay, Jason, thank you. I’m feeling fine. It’s really weird in a way. I’ve never felt better in my life. Maybe a little lightning hit purges the body of bad elements. It’s crazy but I do feel wonderful.”

“I’m delighted. You sound in good spirits.” Jason hesitated briefly before continuing. “This might be very inappropriate of me, bad timing and all, but I was wondering if we might do lunch or dinner sometime? That is, if you’re not encumbered or otherwise disinclined.”

“I’m not encumbered, Jason,” conscious that she might be sounding too eager, “and I’m not disinclined. I would love to have lunch or dinner with you.”

“Well, since I’ve encountered such an encouraging response, let’s make it dinner. Would Tuesday night be good for you?”

“Tuesday night is good.”

“Shall I pick you up at 7:00 PM?”

“That should be fine. Do you have my address?”

When the phone conversation ended, Jenny felt an overwhelming elation, an excitement and anticipation she had not felt since her first high school date in Lawrence, Kansas.

As she busied herself that evening with ad layouts strewn about her living room floor, that rainy day image of Jason was there in the art work and copy pages. Jason Prince was no longer a stranger in her life.

Still later, as she soaked in her bath, she thought of a lightning strike, of her ‘white light’ experience, and of the man who straddled her unconscious body there in the park on the hard wet ground. She thought of her mother and her father, of an old boyfriend she could not clearly bring into focus, of the inner knowledge and immense joy that had arrived in her life.

She cautioned herself time and again that evening against the rushing optimism and thegrowing hope of a new relationship. She could honestly say to herself that she never had such an illuminating and transforming occurrence as the ‘white light.’ The handsome Jason Prince was a very substantive part of that total experience.

She went to bed that Sunday evening too keyed up to sleep, her mind hopping here and there in happy disarray, coming back always to Tuesday next, back to that handsome image, hovering just above her face.

She finally slept, the image caressing her last fading thoughts.

Chapter Three

Without religious fervor or zeal, Jason Prince believed in fate and serendipity. He felt simply there were fateful events in every life.

At age thirty-three he was the recipient of some good genetic tailoring: a strong Roman angularity to his attractive face and full black hair, minus the imperious and defiant set; a well-built body without flab; intelligent, solid business acumen, with a penchant for fairness and mild aggressiveness. Jason suffered no swollen and insufferable ego problems in his stable environment. He was lucky, and, not so lucky. He carried with him a pleasant humility, no doubt the result of his grandmother, whose doting was subtle but pure. There was also no doubt that the death of his parents when Jason was eleven years old factored into whatever essence was uniquely his.

Although he was shielded by his grandmother, Jason remembered the details of his father’s and mother’s deaths. His parents died in an ill-fated traffic accident. A tractor-trailer semi, its driver asleep at the wheel, crosseda center line on Carefree Highway near Cave Creek, Arizona, and plowed head-on into his parents’ car. The truck was going seventy-five miles per hour at the time of the crash, so death for his parents was reported as instantaneous. His father and mother, weary and anxious to be home, were returning from a dinner party in Oak Creek Canyon.

Grandma Myrena Wimsley was home with Jason and his older brother, Carlton, when the call came from the authorities. There were tears and there was anguish, but Grandma Wimsley was not one to dwell too long in emotional crises. Her strong will prevailed as she sheltered the boys as much as possible from the devastating news.

Carlton Prince was the difficult son to soothe. He somehow internalized his parents’ deaths as his own personal tragedy, intermingling his tears of loss with aberrant fits of selfish tirade. Grandma Wimsley found it necessary at times to forcibly control Carlton’s behavior.

For Jason, the death of his parents brought a period of dull apathy. He seemed for some time lost in a foggy nether world, unable to accept the tragic event yet powerless to deny it. He moved in awkward limbo and was ultimately sustained by his grandmother’s stoic acceptance and patient nudging which brought him to a final certainty and reluctant peace. Grandmother Wimsley became for Jason an anchor and a symbol of stability and safe harbor. In a very real sense Jason adopted his grandmother’s calm and unflinching personality, an alluring stoicism with a slight edge of inner doubt. His tinge of humility and resolve was not an unpleasant anomaly.

It was Carlton who could not resolve his seemingly vindictive grief. He vented anger and hostility. His mood shifts were uncomfortable and unreasonable. Grandmother Wimsley came to an uneasy and wary acceptance of Carlton’s moods, hoping that eventually he would grow out of the negative self-absorption. It was Carlton who inevitably and unknowingly brought a tight bond of love between Grandmother Wimsley and Jason. There was also a decidedly open favoritism shown to Jason by his grandmother. Grandfather Wimsley stayed lovingly neutral in the background, busy in his work, leaving the rigors of child nurturing to his capable wife.

So fate and serendipity were accepted and important acknowledgments for Jason Prince, and his unusual encounter with Jenny Mason aroused a dormant emotion. He found her image kept superimposing itself in his thoughts. He knew that this woman was somehow meant to be a part of his life. His acceptance of fate negated the fleeting feeling of impetuousness.

Jason Prince thought about the one prolonged relationship in his life. It ended some ten months ago when the corrosive rust of convenience and dubious security had finally cracked away. Oh, there was passion and caring during the ten years of their ‘couple’ time together, even moments of love. Certainly, in the beginning there were some wonderfully warm moments. Their passage, however, into a subtle maturity never came. Their growing propensity for professional achievement extinguished whatever flame of feeling existed. That past relationship certainly had not begun with the earth shaking drama, literally, that brought him face to face, body to body, with Jennifer Anne Mason.

Yes, he would accept fate and serendipity. He would trust the stirrings within him. He never quite felt this way about anyone.

As Tuesday dawned Jason felt an almost teenage nervousness, an awkward anticipation. He went about his daily business with an odd sense of urgency. He seriously considered canceling his last important meeting of the day, an appointment with a very high profile developer regarding a multimillion dollar commercial venture on a sizable piece of real estate he owned. Good sense prevailed and he kept the appointment.

It was not only Jason’s elevated excitement about his evening date with Jenny, it was the incredibly beautiful Arizona weather. His plush offices were located on the nineteenth floor of the Bank One Building in downtown Phoenix. Outside his full-wall plate glass window he saw the distant peaks of the rugged McDowell Mountains. The smog seemed temporarily checked by the recent winds and rains. Farther east he saw a sun dappled outline of the Superstitions, almost surreal in its gauzy splendor. The tall palms along Central Avenue swayed and the vast blue sky stretched forever. A warm and pleasing lethargy came upon him, nestling nicely with his thoughts about the evening ahead.

The intercom interrupted his reverie, and he reluctantly pressed a button. “Yes, Nora?”

“Phil Langley is here, Jason.” After so many years with Jason, Nora was comfortable using the first name.

“Right. See if he wants coffee and send him in. Bring me a fresh cup, please.”

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