Heart of Fire Read Free

returned home a couple of hours later, she picked up the telephone and bit the redial button. To her surprise, after the first ring there was a click as the receiver was lifted and a brusque, only slightly slurred "Yeah?" barked into her ear.
    "Rick, it's Jillian. Are you going to be home tonight?"
    "Why?" The second word was guarded, suspicious.
    "I want to look through those boxes of Dad's old papers."
    "What for?"
    "Just to look through them. We never have, you know. We don't know what's in there."
    "So what does it matter now?"
    "I don't guess it does. I'm just curious." Instinctively she didn't let Rick know how much she hurt inside or how she needed that contact with their father.
    "I don't have time to sit here and watch you trip down memory lane," he said, totally bypassing the possibility of letting her pick up the boxes and carry them home with her. Rick would never give up what he perceived as an advantage over her.
    "Okay," she said. "Forget it. It was just an idea. Bye."
    "Wait," he said hurriedly. She could almost feel him thinking, picture the idea forming in his mind. "Uh… I guess you can come over. And, uh, do you think you can spare some cash? I'm a little short."
    "Well, I don't know," she said, not wanting him to think it had been too easy and maybe change his mind. "How much cash?"
    "Not much. Maybe a hundred."
    "A hundred!"
    "Okay, okay, make it fifty."
    "I don't know," she said again. "I'll see what I have."
    "Are you coming over now?" he asked.
    "Sure, if you're going to be there."
    "I'll be here." He dropped the phone, crashing it in her ear. Jillian shrugged as she hung up. Every contact with Rick was like that. Sometimes she wondered if he would ever see the futility of trying to spite her.
    She checked her wallet to make sure she had fifty dollars in cash; she did, but it would wipe her out until she could get to an automatic teller, something she didn't like to do at night. She had plenty of gas in her car, though, so she wouldn't need cash for anything that night. It was worth fifty bucks to her to be able to go through her father's papers right away, when she needed bolstering. She seldom did, being solidly planted on her own two feet, but sometimes even the most resilient plant wilted. Tonight her leaves were definitely drooping.
    She didn't bother changing out of her sweats because she was certain it would be a dusty, dirty job, sorting through those boxes after all these years. It took her forty-five minutes to reach Rick's apartment complex. It was a trio of two-story buildings, the stucco painted a pale salmon that had probably looked fresh lo, those many years ago when the complex was new but now was stained and faded to an unappetizing pinkish tan. Rick lived in the building on the left, on the bottom floor. The parking lot was crowded with vehicles in various stages of disassembly. Those that did presumably run were mostly in need of bodywork or were evidently in the process of getting it, since the main color was paint primer. The apartment occupants were in much the same shape, except for the paint.
    She knocked on Rick's door. She could hear the television, but nothing else. She knocked again.
    "All right, all right," came a faint, disgruntled answer, and a minute later Rick opened the door.
    She was always surprised by how pleasant and boyish Rick's features were, how well his face had resisted the effects of cigarettes, booze, and his general life-style. His looks were fading a bit now, finally being worn down, but he was still an attractive man.
    "Hi," he said. "You bring the money?"
    "I don't have much more than fifty, but I can get by if you need it," she said, while thinking, Hello, I'm fine, how are you ? She could smell the alcohol on his breath. Rick wasn't much for manners when he was sober, but he had none at all when he was drinking. Unfortunately, that was most of the time.
    "Sure, I need it," he snapped. "I wouldn't have asked for a hundred to begin with if I didn't