The Firestarter: How a Lost Girl Changed Our Lives

Chapter 1

I had swerved to avoid the dippy-doo that crossed the sandy road. It could have been one of my children, but I couldnt tell them apart. My heart had still been pounding as I had seen it run quickly up the berm on the side of the road and dart under a creosote bush, yellow with flowers.

The two-minute drive to the corner of the paved highway was long enough that I had started sweating. Even the thirsty, endless wind was not enough to dry it as quickly as it came out. I had pulled up to check on our mailbox on a Tuesday morning in early April. The seconds ticked by as I stood in the burning sun, trying to pick our mailbox out of the line up. I burned my fingers on the metal as I opened the box. It didnt blister, that I recall, but a stinging redness, nonetheless. Oh well, it wasnt the first time, and it certainly wouldnt be the last.

A letter in a plain white business envelope had been addressed to me. Addressed by hand instead of printed. That was rare. That made it worth a second look. I opened it and read the words that changed my life. Words that told me I had a half-sister named Lily. My sister, the Firestarter.

Let me start by telling you about the previous day. I rose early, at 10 oclock, to beat the scorching heat and feed my furry friends. They were Mohave ground squirrels, or dippy-doos as the locals called them, or at least we thought they did. I stepped out of our small white stucco house, which looked spacious from the outside. In actuality, it was crammed with our stuff inside. We hadnt fully unpacked after we moved and I didnt have the energy to clean it or organize it, not with the way I felt.

The dippy-doos lived on the edge of the wash that cut through our yard. They were adorable creatures: sleek tan bodies that blended with the sand, black pearl eyes on seal-like faces, tiny hands that grasped their food. Their tails were not fluffy like other squirrels, but smooth and slender. When we first moved here two years ago, we didnt know what they were. Rats? Weasels? But once we learned they were squirrels, we fell in love with them. They were so lively and playful, scampering, chasing, and diving into their burrows. They seemed carefree and happy, unlike me. I had been training them to trust me, to love me back. They were my children, the ones I could never have.

Their love would come gradually, predictably. Before I scattered seeds or vegetables for them, I would call, Dippy-Doo! Dippy Doo! That way they would know who fed them, who to love. Once the feeding routine was settled, there was no way they were going to run away and abandon me.

I tossed some lettuce to Shelley, our new desert tortoise. She dashed for it, eager to get her share. She had a dark brown shell, and the cutest little pink tongue that licked the lettuce. I think she recognized her name when I called her. We adopted her from the tortoise rescue, where they told us she was female. We hadnt seen any eggs yet. She loved lettuce, but she also liked carrots, apples, and grapes. I was committed to ensuring her diet was perfect, yet I also craved spoiling her with snacks so she would love me as much as I loved her.

I threw the last of the lettuce to the desert iguanas. They scrambled for it, pushing each other out of the way. One even abandoned its flower in the creosote bush, not wanting to miss out on the treat. I loved their short little snouts and big eyes.

I dabbed the sweat from my forehead, feeling the headache worsen. I went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. My headache wasnt going to get any better from staying out in the heat. But I hated water. It disgusted me and made my stomach churn. I wanted soda but I didnt find any. I think I drank the last of it yesterday.

I heard Evans voice coming from his home office area. ...I understand. Thank you for the opportunity. I wish you all the best.

I frowned and walked to the doorway.

Hey, honey. Everything okay?

Yeah, yeah. Come over.

Evan was sitting at his desk, looking at his laptop. He had a sad expression on his face. Hey, babe.

Whats going on?

That was my boss. He just told me that they're terminating my contract.

What? Why?

They dont want to keep me on as a remote worker anymore.

Oh, Evan. I'm so sorry. You're amazing at what you do. You're the best. Its going to be hard on them.

Thanks, but that doesn't matter. They only care about having people there to lick their boots in person.

This is so unfair. This is all my fault.

What? No, it's not.

Yes, it is. If I hadn't dragged you here, you could have kept your job in the city.

Elise, stop. You didn't drag me here. I wanted to come with you. I wanted to make you happy.

But I'm not happy. I'm miserable. And now you're miserable too.

No, I'm not. I'm happy here with you. You're my everything. You know I love it here: the animals, the peace and quiet. I love being with you. You're my reason for living.

I love you too, Evan. But what are we going to do now? How are we going to pay the bills?

Don't worry! He patted my arm. We'll figure it out. We have some savings, right? We can live frugally for a while. Maybe I can find another job?

But what if you don't? What if we run out of money? Will we lose the house? I was scared. I felt guilty for making us move out here, for ruining Evans life with my health problems, and for not being a good enough mother to the animals outside.

He tried to reassure me, Hey, hey. Stop. Don't worry. I didnt agree to moving without thinking it through. We have enough to survive. We'll be ok. We have each other. That's all that matters.

What frustrating consolation! It was going to be our first summer here in the Mojave. It would be 115 every day, but it would feel like 155. All we had was the swamp cooler and I desperately wanted a real air conditioner. Without money, how would we get that? I wanted to eat out. I wanted us to enjoy ourselves. I didnt want to just scrape by on beans, oatmeal, and food bank handouts.

I said softly: Youre right. Youre right. Im sorry. Im just scared. I was scared, and it was not only about losing the luxuries. My mother and I were poor when I was a kid. Being poor was unbearable. What if I snapped at Evan? What if I drove him away? I never felt attractive. He never told me I was attractive. What if he met someone else?

I know. Me too. But well get through this. Together. He stood up, kissed me gently on the forehead, and gave me one of those hugs that only he could give. He wrapped his arms around me and held me close, as if he wanted to protect me from the world. He smiled and looked into my eyes. I love you, Elise. The best is yet to come.

The best is yet to come? Yeah, right! He was always promising that, but I never believed him. I could see the worry lines on his face, the tension in his shoulders, the doubt in his voice. He was trying to be strong for me, but I knew he was scared too. I said doubtfully: I love you too, Evan. I forced a smile and nodded, but I couldnt hide the fear in my eyes, the tightness in my chest, the sadness in my voice. I wanted to believe him, but I couldnt. How could things get better when everything seemed to be falling apart?

I dragged myself up and shuffled towards the couch, hoping that lying down under the refreshing air of the swamp cooler would make me feel better. I collapsed on the couch and looked from the swamp cooler to the wood stove a few feet away and the matches at its base. It was crazy how we could go from being way too cold to being way too hot in just a couple of weeks. That was the desert for you.

Hey, Evan? I yelled.

Yeah?

Thank you. For everything.

No, thank you. For being my wife. Youre the best thing that ever happened to me. He smiled so sincerely; I could almost believe it was real. But how could it be? Evan and I had been married over a decade, but no other man in my life had ever showed me any loyalty. My father left me in my childhood, and he never showed any loyalty to my mother. If you cant trust your father, who can you trust?