Page 62 of What You Never Knew

The ax is dull and it feels like it’s taking forever to slice through the rope, but finally I get through one end and am able to untangle it from my wrists. Thick smoke and salty sweat sting my eyes. I have to close them as I work at the rope around my ankles.

The entire front of the cottage is consumed by flames. Staying low, I crawl toward the back of the cottage, but before I even reach the kitchen, I can feel the heat from more fire in that direction. Willa must have started it at both ends.

The only way out is to go upstairs and use the fire escape. Still on my hands and knees, I make it to the stairs and crawl up as quickly as I can. It’s only a matter of time before the building starts to collapse in on itself. Flames haven’t reached the second floor but the smoke has, filling the upstairs hall, blocking out the light and sucking up the oxygen.

I reach the fire escape door, roll on my back, and kick it open with all of my force. Tumbling out onto the landing of the metal staircase, I gulp in the fresh air.

I’m light-headed and dizzy, my throat is scalded and my lungs are scorched, but I’m alive. Adrenaline keeps me moving despite my shaking legs and the desire to collapse in a heap. I get down to the bottom of the fire escape and rush to the front of the building.

Flames are devouring the cottage. I want to scream for help, but my voice has been burned away. I turn in circles, looking for an answer. My phone is in the cottage. I see a flash of white across the yard. Willa darts out of the woods. She sees me and stops dead in her tracks. I don’t know if she realizes it’s me or if she still thinks I’m my mother, but her face falls, her shoulders slump as though she’s once again been defeated.

Neither of us moves for several seconds, and then suddenly she breaks into a run across the lawn, disappearing behind the burning cottage. I’m ready to chase after her when I hear someone call my name. Turning toward the lake, I see Ezra running up the path, the bright light of the fire illuminating the fear in his eyes.

“June,” he yells again, before yanking me to him and holding me against his body. His skin feels so cool against mine. He has not just walked through fire to be here.

I pull free. “Willa.” The name is croaked out, stinging my throat as it exits. I move toward the fire, and Ezra reaches out to grab me. Tugging against him, I say her name again, this time stabbing the air with a finger to show him she’s here somewhere.

A veil of confusion falls across his face. “My mom is here?” I nod, and the confusion turns to panic. “Inside?”

I shake my head and take his hand to pull him in the direction that she went. We race to the back of the cottage, but she’s not there. We both go in opposite directions to check along the sides and meet back at the front.

“Where is she?” he screams at me as I approach.

“I don’t know.” My own scream comes out like as whisper. “She came out of the woods and went around back. That’s the last time I saw her.”

He starts screaming her name at the woods, running in every direction across the front lawn. Movement on the roof pulls my attention away from him, and when I look up, I see Willa standing far above us. She’s balanced on one of the peaks like the statue of an angel, her white nightgown billowing in the breeze.

“Ezra,” I call out. It’s not loud, but somehow he hears me. I point up; he follows the direction of my finger and goes very still.

“Mom,” he calls out. “Don’t move. I’m coming to get you.” She shakes her head. “Mom,” his voice pleads. She shakes her head again. Ezra moves toward her, and she backs up toward an open window, making it very clear that if he goes up there to get her, she’ll go into the burning cottage.

“What the fuck is she doing?” he says, tears and panic heavy in his voice.

I reach out and take his hand. “She wants it to be over,” I explain. He doesn’t say anything. We both just stand there, watching Willa, who is watching us.

When it’s clear that Ezra is not going to come up after her, she puts her hand to her mouth and blows him a kiss. His body jerks forward, but I hold tight to his hand and keep him in place. She finally turns and walks along the peak to the open window, ducks down, and crawls through it. A sob escapes Ezra, but he stands firm. Something in him knows it’s the right thing to do. That by not saving her, he’s saving her.

We stand there together, hand in hand, and watch. We both know there’s no point in trying to stop it. It’s an old wooden cottage on an island; it never stood a chance next to Willa’s gas can and match.

Only when the whole island is lit up by the blaze and sparks fly into the night sky to land on the ground in front of us do we call the fire department. Then we stand there and wait. The air is filled with the sound of wood splitting, glass smashing, and flames raging. Every now and again the building lets out a low groan as walls cave in and floors buckle. I am watching the slow, violent death of my cottage. Losing my beloved Avril Island for the second time.

Tears stream down Ezra’s face. Somehow, I’m dry-eyed. Maybe I’m just happy to be alive. Maybe after all the truth I’ve learned since coming back here, I’m finally ready to let the island go. To bury the past in the ashes that she will become.

I don’t tell Ezra that his father died on Avril Island as well. I don’t tell him anything. We stand in silence until the fire department arrives. I give them a partial truth about taking care of Ezra’s mother, who suffered from dementia; about how I left her on her own for a short time and came back to find the fire. How we tried to get her out but were too late.

They examine me and tell me to go to the hospital. I lie and say that I will. Then I lead Ezra away, down to the dock. When we get back to his place, he doesn’t come up to the boathouse with me. He goes into the stone cottage, telling me he needs some time alone. I let him go, understanding the need to grieve in private better than I ever wanted to. He’s stunned and still in shock. I know the feeling well. I know that it will pass, leaving only deep sorrow behind, which will not pass; it will turn to scar tissue that will throb when it rains and burn with movements that are too quick.

I get myself into the shower. I’m covered in the dirt of Ezra’s father’s grave and coated with smoke and soot from the fire that killed his mother. The water quickly washes all of this away, but it’s a superficial cleansing. I will never really be clean of their deaths; they will haunt me forever. Crouching down in the shower, I put my head between my knees and finally cry.

Fire dreams and the scent of burning skin jolt me awake. I could only have been sleeping for a couple of hours. Once again I’ve spent the night on Ezra’s couch, falling in and out of a trouble sleep. It’s morning now, the sun streaming through the window giving the false impression that it’s just any other day.

There’s a note on the coffee table from Ezra. Apparently, the fire department called and he had to go deal with some things regarding his mom’s death in the fire. He didn’t want to wake me.

I get dressed and have just started the coffee-making process when Ezra’s home phone rings. I answer, thinking it could be something important. It’s Ezra. He’s at the fire department and needs his mom’s year of birth, which she has never revealed to anybody, for some paperwork. He asks me to go into the stone cottage to find her birth certificate and call him back with the information.

There’s an eerie feeling inside Willa’s house, as though she could appear at any moment. There are dishes in the drying rack and the soft sound of a fan whirring in another room. I find her purse sitting on a table by the front door and go through it but don’t find anything with her birth year on it.

I go into her bedroom and rummage around in a small writing desk but find only old bills and receipts for things. The only place left to look is a bedside table. It looks like a drawer filled entirely with old Kleenexes, but when I put my hand in and dig around, I come up with an old wallet. Inside is her birth certificate.