Page 2 of Phoenix Fire

She was unable to shake his image, and she did not wish to shake it. She was warmed and sustained by his seeming ethereal presence.

She found herself silently shaking her head in bemusement, a wistful smile upon her lips, during her exercises, during the laundry routine, during her microwave meals.

She thought of him constantly amid the practical chores which kept her busy and amid the gauzy recall of her strange ‘white light’ experience. While she knew that her life resumed along its predictable paths, she nonetheless felt some inner sense of displacement. She was changed in some magical way by the lightning strike, by the resulting soulful aberration, and, yes, by the darkly beautiful stranger.

Jenny sensed an altering essence about her. She felt more alive than before the jogging strike. She felt more stoic about the pattern and shape of her world. She was not afraid anymore; at least, the weight of fear was lightened. It did not pursue her movements as it had for so many years. Yes, it was strange but it was also a natural sublimation. She accepted it and she was somehow revitalized by it.

She was convinced that the beckoning ‘white light’ was more than just a physical response to the lightning strike. It was much more than that, and, while she could not, while she felt she need not, attempt an explanation of this rather significant transformation, it was as real for her as the air she breathed and the tangible habits of her life. It was as though she had lived her entire twenty-seven years with this awesome acknowledgment. She would live each day in celebration of life and all its elements. She was no longer unsettled by the prospects of tomorrow or the years ahead. She knew with some odd lucidity that tomorrows were but brief zephyrs of relevance against the infinite landscape of eternity.

She was given the gift of light, a rare and enormous glimpse into forever and she was not afraid. It was a knowledge perhaps few could ever know, and she felt the ephemeral wisps of sorrow from the knowing. With this gift borne of light she never again need fear the future or linger too long in confusion and doubt. The gift would always lead her ultimately out of traps laid by the mind.

The incredible oddity that came with the gift was how manifest was this new found knowledge. It was as though the gift had always been there, somewhere deep in her subliminal recesses. It was awesome but it was natural. She caught herself at times with a wide grin on her face, but it was good and she knew that life could never be quite the same.

On Sunday, Jenny’s parents called.

The loving parents built much of their lives around Jenny. They served as a seeming metronomic pulse in sync with Jenny’s every movement, yet, carefully, unobtrusively. They called because they sensed something amiss in their daughter’s life, a psychic fear for her welfare.

“Dad’s on the other line, honey.” Margaret Mason spoke so softly she was barely audible. “We’ve been getting some of those paranormal signals.” She paused to lightly giggle. “At least, I have. Just thought we better check up on you.”

Jenny’s father broke in, his voice a gentle roar. “It’s called ‘lonesome detachment,’ Margaret, not ‘paranormal signals.’ How are you, Jenny-girl? We haven’t talked to you for almost two weeks.”

“I’m fine, daddy.” Jenny felt a rush of tender memories, moments of love that had always been there for her in abundance. She debated whether or not to tell her parents about the lightning accident and decided against it. “In fact, I can honestly tell you both that I’ve never felt better in my entire life.”

“You have another fella, Jenny Anne?” her mother asked gaily, but remembering Jenny’s lone bad relationship that ended a year ago.

“No, mom, I don’t have another fella. I’m just in love with life, ‘eating jellybeans and chasing butterflies.’” She laughed as she remembered her father’s famous lines, a stock answer he always used throughout her life to respond to the question, ‘how are you?’

The father was pleased with her response. “That Ad Agency make you a vice president yet?” he asked.

“Not yet, daddy, but it will be there someday if I want it. How’s the weather in Lawrence?” She could picture her beloved Lawrence, Kansas, the old two-story house in which she was born, the high school, her Cheerleading chums, the boys she dated, the fun times.

“It’s bottling weather, sweetheart, just a few thin clouds in a big blue sky. The temperature is about seventy-four degrees and the air smells like a fat old greenhouse. You had a little rain out there in the desert, according to the weather reports?”

“On Thursday and Friday there were storms, but it’s beautiful today, in the mid-eighties, early nineties, and the orange blossoms are narcotic. Yeah, you two, I’m just fine and the weather’s fine. Is that the only reason you called, to check up on me?”

“Well, I did think about hitting you up for a loan, but your mother wouldn’t permit me.”

“Oh, daddy, you big teaser!”

“Your father should be on a golf course today but he claims the courses are getting too crowded. He stayed home to pester me all day: ‘Get me this, get me that.’ You know he’s spoiled rotten.” Jenny’s mother loved every minute of the spoiling.

“You just might be putting your dinner at the ‘Steak House’ in jeopardy, Maggie-girl. Best watch what you say … Anyway, sweetheart, we were just calling to see how you’re doing and to find out if you’re still planning to come home in July?”

Jenny assured her parents that she was still coming home for part of her vacation in early July. They talked of sundry things until Jenny’s ‘call waiting’ tone interrupted their call. They agreed that it was a good time to hang up.

When Jenny switched to the other call and she heard his voice, there came an adrenaline rush and a tingling sensation.

“Is this Jennifer Anne Mason?” the strong male voice asked.

She could hardly contain her excitement. “Yes, this is Jenny.”

“Jenny, this is Jason Prince. There’s no reason for you to know me, but I was jogging just behind you in the park early Friday when the lightning struck. Hope you don’t mind my calling.”

“Oh, no, not at all!” She hoped she was not sounding too excited. “You’re the nice man who very likely saved my life. Thank you so much for calling, and, for saving me. In truth, I hoped you would call.” She closed her eyes, saw his image there in her mind’s eye.

“I didn’t do a whole lot. It just wasn’t your time, I guess. How are you feeling? Any lingering aches and pains?” His voice had a velvety quality.

“You’re too modest, Mr. Prince. You …”

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