From the Ashes

By Lillis Lish

After the tragic death of her husband, Joe, Marie Maxwell and her children embrace becoming squatters. As they learn to rebuild their lives, they befriend Fiona (a.k.a. Feodora) who is hiding from the Russian mob. Martha, a lost heiress, and Rosa and George, a displaced family she takes in.

As she becomes a famous ceramist and finds love again, her life and her children are tormented by nightmares of her dead husband. Will she find peace in her new life as Joe's secret is revealed?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 7, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503530942

Lillis Lish

Currently Ms. Lish resides in Seattle, Washington, with her very well-loved and spoiled cat, Boots. She creates characters in her book by observing life. She enjoys writing, ceramics, as well as spending time with her Asian boyfriend. When she is not writing, she works in nursing. She enjoys working closely with her home health clients from different backgrounds, experiences, cultures, as well as various professions. Her motto is, life is her muse as well as her teacher. She would love to hear from her readers and can be contacted at: www.facebook.com/iwritefromlife lillisearline2002#yahoo.com lilish.blog.com

Book preview

cover.jpg

Copyright © 2015 by Lillis Lish.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2014922872

ISBN:      Hardcover            978-1-5035-3092-8

                Softcover            978-1-5035-3093-5

                eBook                   978-1-5035-3094-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 01/02/2015

Xlibris

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Author’s Note

Books also written by Lillis Lish

Cracks in the Sidewalk

For Betty Fuchs

Special thanks to Fady Nick Habeb for the cover art.

One

Fire burns leaving rubble and ash in its wake. Smoke, the ever present aftermath of such destruction lingers in the air hanging like a noose around your neck. Reminding you of what you left behind, what was destroyed in its wake. Rebuilding from ashes is never easy. The possibility of developing lung problems or breathing problems from inhaling the dust, a constant threat to you survival, your sanity. There is no time for tears, for it is gone, the past is no more. The future looms ahead in the rubble at your feet, the carefree time is gone. Everything is gone. Life is no longer painted a bright shade of Orange, it is now gray and dull.

On the horizon of destruction, freedom is there. Freedom from pain, from hurt, from life. Freedom to live life the way it was meant with unpredictability and spontaneously. As I turn and walk away from the rubble and ashes of my life, I felt alive and free. My new life as another face in the crowd in a new city had begun. I was ready to face it head on with all the ashes and dust wiped off and buried beneath my feet. My children, giddy from playing in the grass, ran to embrace me.

Momma, can we have some ice cream?

Yes, my sweethearts, you can. I dug in my purse withdrawing five dollars. Here you go, enjoy.

I was glad that children adjusted so easily, I was pleased they were not affected by their father’s death. It was so sudden. His death left nothing but ashes in its wake, all that we worked for, all that we planned, now gone, blown away like ash in the wind. I was glad that my children were still small, still resilent. I wish I was so resilent, but I wasn’t. I was afraid to start over, especially with two small children. I had never finished college when I learned I was pregnant, something that I have regretted ever since.

Me and my husband, Joe had bought a mobile home before our daughter, Laurel, was born. It was a nice triple-wide, with eggshell siding and blue trim. There was a breakfast nook off the side of the kitchen. The kitchen, I had painted lemon yellow which brightened up the breakfast nook when the sun shone. The breakfast nook, I painted in cream, to complement the kitchen. I loved the kitchen, the breakfast nook. The living room was Joe’s design, he filled it with his favorite shot glasses from across the country as well as bobbleheads. The berber carpet was a dove gray, the couches, gray with cream stripes running vertically. The master bedroom, which I decorated in an victorian era period, had a Jack and Jill bathroom attached to it. There was a guest bathroom that Laurel used once she was older. She wanted some space to bathe with her dolls. Her dolls, needed their own bathroom, she would tell us. I found this hilarious that at six, she had already created some boundaries, that we respected. I had a nice garden in the back with radishes, cucumbers, lettuce, tomatoes, squash, which Joe, turned his nose up, as well as rhuburb. Rhubarb wasn’t particular my favorite, but I grew them for Joe. He would break of the stalks and eat them raw. My thoughts were interrupted with the return of Laurel and Todd, my son.

Momma, we got you something too, said Laurel.

The Ice Cream man, said that we reminded him of his grandchildren and wanted to give us an ice cream for our momma, said Todd.

Todd was excited, he was quite a perceptive child, both the children were. I tried to shield them the best that I could from the life we were living now. It was still summertime, I had some time to find a good school, but first I needed some income, the five dollars, I gave them for the Ice Cream was the last of the money. The Ice Cream truck pulled away, it’s jingling trailing behind it.

Come my dears, I said, our turn is next. The children were growing impatient, waiting in line, for their showers. The line at the Urban Rest stop, was always long, sometimes they fell asleep waiting for their turn.

No!No!No! Laurel screamed. She kicked the blankets off, her invisible figure, disappearing in a flash.

Laurel, honey, wake up, I touched her shoulder. Honey, wake up. She was burning up, she awoke, crying.

Momma, I saw daddy.

Shush, honey, it’s okay. I miss him too. I rubbed her back slowly, trying to console her.

No, momma, I really did see daddy. He touched my hair than kissed my cheek. He told me he was sorry for what he did.

Laurel had started having these nightmares shortly after the fire. She and her father were close, she took his death very hard. They had done alot of fun things together while he was alive, they were unseperatable. Joe used to get Laurel’s dolls out, before she came home from school. He lined them up on her bed, as if they were waiting for her. Of course, when Laurel asked him, he would tell her that they were lonely and kept him company at work. Joe worked out of his home office, he didn’t want to travel for the insurance company anymore, now since he had a family. He wanted, he said, to be home and watch his children grow up. Joe said, that since he worked out of his home now, he could write up the policies while someone else did the leg work. His clients claimed, that because of his fairness in dealing with them and their policies, they purchased more for their grandchildren. He became over whelmed with all the book work and hired an associate who was trying to learn about policies. His name was Wendall House.

Wendall was a young man in his early twenties that had just graduated from college. He was a good looking kid, with sandy blonde hair, green eyes, and a big, bright smile, that lit up the room whenever he entered it. His family wanted him to be an Accountant, the family bussiness. Wendall, hated Accounting, he told me that it was the most boring stuff on earth.

Why do you say that Wendall? I asked.

All those numbers, checks and balances, debits, credits, all of it just boggles my mind. I don’t like staring at numbers all day. And, he sighed, that Pegboard payroll, I can’t stand it.

Wendall, I don’t think they do Pegboard Payroll anymore. I think that is old school. I told him.

We liked Wendall alot, he was such a good sport whenever we would tease him, especially the children. Even his name, brought laughter from them, for they nicknamed him Windy. When his mother called the house to speak to him, the children would yell out, Windy, yo mamma on the phone, as a fresh round of laughter broke out.

His momma, didn’t appreciate the teasing.

Laurel, had calmed some now as I continued to rub her back. She started to doze again, such sweet, innocent sleep. I wished such sleep, but knew it was not coming. The harsh realities of life, weighed heavy on my shoulders. I had two children, both innocent that I had to protect, I was all they had left. My parents Martha and Stewart Miller, lived in Germany, to far away to help.

They traveled the German countryside alot, visiting friends, touring castles, even visiting pubs. I wished I was with them right now, I missed them, their grandchildren missed them.

The children had not seen them since they retired four years ago. It was hard to reach them sometimes, as they traveled most of the year never staying in one place too long. My father used to tell me that, Life is an adventure, Marie, you need to enjoy the ride. I was on an adventure, alright, an adventure that my children didn’t understand.

I was studying for my Alegbra final, my freshman year in college, with my friends and study partners. There were six of us total in the group. We all had brought various blankets to sit on the grass. We had found the only dry spot of grass around, it had taken us awhile to find. It was considered a prime spot right now, so we claimed it. I didn’t know some of the others in the group as they were Sarah and Glenn’s friends, however, I made friends with them fast. We were all outside, textbooks open, under a big Oak tree, sitting on blankets, laughing and talking. It was a beautiful day, the air was fresh, perfumed from the scent of the recent rain. I had brought a picnic basket filled with a variety of cheeses and crackers. The group teased me for bringing brain food. It was all in good fun, we were a lively group. Movement from the right of me, caught my attention, I was distracted.

Earth, to Marie, it was my roommate and friend, Sarah Gillis. She snapped her fingers, Hello, earth to Marie.

What, I said. Did I miss something?

Did you miss something, ha ha, Marie. I asked if you were going to the Pond Student Union, the Psub, after classes today. They are having a concert outside.

Oh that. I had forgotten about that. Sure, I will go.

What has got you so distracted? asked Glenn Smith. Glenn was Sarah’s boyfriend.

That guy over there. He keeps looking my way as he walks by.

What guy? Glenn and Sarah, both asked at the same time.

"The one over there, with the ‘nerdy kids’. The one wearing penny loafers, a pink dress shirt, with black pants and a pink and black matching tie."

"He doesn’t seem like a ‘nerdy kid, said Glenn. You know all the ‘nerdy kids’, are the children of white collar professionals, such as doctors, lawyers, professors. There is even a son of a Governor, a Governor General, as well as a President of a Software company." The ‘nerdy kids’, did not have eyeglasses with tape on them, they wore sneakers, sweaters, jeans, etc. They wanted to blend in, be like everyone else, despite the fact that everyone knew who they were. They were very involved in the schools activities, and pep rallies, one ‘nerdy kid’ was even a daughter of an Native American chief, or so was the rumor.

He looked my way again. This time, I could clearly see his face. He looks like George Clooney, I told Sarah. Sarah looked.

Well, your George Clooney, is heading this way, said Glenn.

Oh, lookie, Glenn, someone has an admirer. Sarah was having way to much fun teasing me.

Oh, shut up, Sarah, Glenn said, as he lovingly patted Sarah’s head. Let her study, Glenn winked at me.

Sarah, Glenn just winked at me, both Sarah and Glenn burst out laughing.

I continued rubbing Laurel’s back, as I remembered the day I met Joe Maxwell at college, he had asked me out for a date later that night. How about this Saturday? I asked him. I was exremely nervous. There is an event for Breast Cancer awareness that, Sarah myself, and Glenn, volunteer for. We have a booth in the event. It is sponsered by various sororities, this year, ours got picked to run the booth.

Sure, sounds fun. I am looking forward to it. Joe said. I told him where to meet up with us. I was glad that he agreed to this unconventional first date, I wanted Sarah and Glenn’s support.

My parents had told me that you had to be careful with first dates, so make them in a public place, or public event. I thought they were loony for telling me this. However, as I got older, I could understand the logic and reasoning behind it, especially with all the violence and date rapes going on, especially on first dates.

The day of the event dawned bright, and beautiful. The rain, cooperated by staying away. I was nervous, as I fumbled through my closet looking for something pink to wear. Pink was not one of my favorite colors.

Sarah, I can’t find anything to wear. Can I borrow something of yours? A flash of shocking pink caught my eye.

What the heck are you wearing, Sarah? She was dressed in shocking pink. Her jeans were pink, her shirt was pink, the only thing that wasn’t pink was her hair.

Help me with this Marie, please? She pulled out a shocking pink wig with spiked hair. How do I look?

Like a giant piece of cotton candy, I told her. My laughter joined hers.

Here, why don’t you wear this. She pulled out a pink sundress with pink ribbons running down the front. Don’t forget the hat. We can’t have you sunburned for your date with Joe. She handed me a pink straw hat. The price tag was still on it. I started to cut it off. She stopped me. No, leave it. It gives you the Minnie Pearl look. Wow, HeeHaw, re-visited, I thought.

Glenn, was an exact duplicate of Sarah, he even had fake boobs on, the shirt he wore, read, ‘save the boobs,’ I was in a booth with two hugh pieces of cotton candy with a ‘save the boobs’ logo on one.

As Joe, approached our booth, Sarah handed him some pink ribbons.

Here, pass these out as people approach the booth. They are to pin them on their clothes, she told him, as she pinned a pink ribbon on each of us.

Wow, I feel like I am at a county fair, replied Joe, as he took the ribbons, you two look like two pieces of cotton candy. And you, he pointed at my hat, look like Minnie Pearl. All you need is gray hair, with that red hair of yours, you look like a candied apple. I blushed.

Now, she looks even more like a candied apple, Sarah teased as everyone laughed.

Two

The race started, they were off. Breast cancer survivors of all ages, both men and women. Some, were family members of those lost to breast cancer. As the race progressed, we were busy at the booth, taking donations, answering questions, some even revisited HewHaw with us an well as the county fair. It was a very lively group of runners. Some although bald from their Chemo treatments, were happy to be running for a cause that they believed in. All of them wore shirts that read, race for the cure, or Breast Cancer survivor. The survivors wore various colors depending the length of time of survival. One man wore a purple survivor shirt, it was for the 2o year survivors. Another, wore red, for 10 years, another blue for 5 years. The 1 year survivors, wore pink. It was a happy group that ran that day, all of them getting cheered on by the standing crowd. We were continously busy and laughing with everyone.

Joe, created a game with the crowd, they were to guess the original color of Glenn and Sarah’s hair, under their wigs. I wasn’t allowed to play, since I alreadyknew the answer. Just hearing some of their guesses, was entertainment enough. Glenn was actually bald, Sarah’s hair was a combination of brown and gold, a combination I referred to as bicolor.

Two hours later, the race was over. I had collected all the money and took it to the volunteer that was in charge of recording donations. Our sorority had raised over 10, 000 dollars, the costumes were a hit. Although Joe, did not dress up, he did his part with impressions of various professors, other students, as well as characters on HewHaw. Grandpa, was his favorite.

Later, we all went out for Pizza and beer.

The pizza parlor was close to the hospital on Cherry Hill, it was very crowded when we entered. People were waiting outside on the tables, or standing in front of the restaurant. Inside, was standing room only.

I have only one rule on pizza, Joe said. No vegetables.

Crap, there goes my favorite Spinach and Mushroom pizza I thought. Joe gave his name to the waiter as we waited outside for his name to be called. Once we were sitting inside, I was overcome with the different types of pizzas that they had, I could not decide. We decided to order their New Yorker special, so much, for no vegetables, there were veggies galore. I continued to look at the menu to see what other types they had. I was surprized to find a pizza with Broccoli on it, okay, I thought, that’s different.

I had a pale amber beer, which caused me to burp alot, Joe thought it was cute.

We talked for awhile about our similar childhoods, similar interests as well as our family. I had a brother once.

Once? he asked.

He passed when he was young. He played sports when he was younger, you know, peewee league. Anyway, he developed a brain tumor during a very hard practice. The doctors said that if they were aware of the mass growing on his brain, they would have never let him play. It was growing in such a minute fashion, that they never knew that he had it, until his autopsy. He never complained of headaches, at least, not to my knowlegde. We were very close as children and shared lots of things, we did lots of things together. One of my fondest memories of him was the Christmas that we bought my father some socks. Todd, my brother and me, found an old gun box in a neighbors recycling bin. We took the socks individually, one by one, folded them over, then folded the cuff of the sock down over the folded sock, giving it the appearance of one pair of socks, instead of a single sock. We did this for all twelve pairs. When my father unwrapped it, he thought he had 24 pairs of socks, instead of twelve pairs. We all had a good laugh at this. My father was a sport about it, to this day, he still tells that story with pride.

Tears slipped, from my eyes, as I thought of my brother. He would have loved his namesake. My son, reminded me of him in so many ways. The way he laughs, the way he smiles, the way he sleeps, even the way he teases Laurel. He is a good boy, there is so much of my brother, Todd in him. When he was born, it was Joe who wanted to name him Todd. I had mentioned Todd to him so much before our son, Todd, was born, that he wanted to honor his memory. It brought tears to my parents eyes as they gazed upon thier grandson. They were no sad, but elated that Joe would honor their dead son, and carry on his name. I wondered what my parents would think now, if they knew that Joe had perished in a fire, that he had caused a scandel that caused me to hide in shame. What would they think if they knew how we were living now, in a squatter house, in Squattersville, as squatters. I was too embarrassed to tell them, too ashamed. Laurel stirring, broke me from my thoughts.

Momma, she cried, will you please lay next to me and hold me? I need you to chase the boogyman away, she slid over as I laid next to her.

The squatter house, was at one time, a very grand house. Over the years, it had fallen into disrepair, the owner was a elderly gentleman who lived in a nursing home, who claimed he didn’t have any living relatives. How it escaped being sold in an estate sale, to pay for the gentleman’s nursing home, no one knew. It had a hugh kitchen, that even a professional chef would be jealous of. The kitchen, itself still contained a stove, refrigerator a free standing freezer as well as a built-in butcher’s block. The sunshine yellow daisy wallpaper was now peeling and faded, the trim in the kitchen was yellow. The oak cupboards, now hung on one hinge, or no hinges. The now scarred countertops, still had the beauty of being a soft butternut marble color. Someone, perhaps the owner, or previous squatters, had left silverware, plates, cups, and bowls in the cupboard, there was even pots and pans, which we could not use as there was no electricity.

The carpet in the livingroom was now a faded and shaggy, thin bird’s eye blue, there were large picture windows, allowing one to see the forest outside, we were hidden from the outside in here. The yard was so overgrown with weeds, that one could not distinquish the trees in the forest from the weeds. Some of the other squatters talked about cutting them down, but we knew we