Firedance

By Joseph Padgal

This story takes place in the present, on Baker's Island, located just off the coast of Lake Michigan on the west upper part of the state's lower peninsula, near the small town of Crandon. On the north shore of the island sits the homestead of Michael Jacobson the main character of the story. His wife Cindy and their two daughters Abby and Sarah live with him in an 1850's era home that has belonged to several generations of Jacobson's. By nature, Michael is a good husband and father to his older daughter Chris who is presently away at college, and his two younger daughters who live with him now. Michael is a good pilot and makes his living flying. His wife Cindy is a vivacious woman who loves her husband and daughters, is creative and operates her own little enterprise along with another woman in town. Then, one summer night a terrible thunderstorm causes Michael to have a nightmare about an event in his family's past. Hurtful emotions that he had buried inside himself began to surface. His wife is confused and frightened by what is happening. Two days later, Michaels sister suddenly calls after 20 years saying she has been having dreams about the same event. A counselor gets involved as other strange events began to happen. Chris suddenly shows up from college unaware of the turmoil. Suddenly a mysterious woman shows up out of nowhere at the home one day causing confusion in the family. Then, one night, Michael is asked to make a mercy flight...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098012595

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Firedance

Joseph Padgal

Copyright © 2019 by Joseph Padgal

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

An Everyday Flight

The Darkness

The Voices from the Closet

Dark Family Secrets

Two Sisters

The Barnstormers

The Howling

Skeletons in the Closet

We Are Like a Living, Breathing Relationship

Time for Grace

The Hidden Storm

Don’t Let the Darkness Hide!

A New Beginning

The Orphan’s Cry

The Place of Surrender

An Everyday Flight

Forgiveness is God’s invention for coming to terms with a world in which, despite their best intentions, people are unfair to each and hurt each other deeply. He began by forgiving us. And he invites all to forgive each other.

—Lewis B. Smedes, Forgive and Forget: Healing the Hurts We Don’t Deserve

Waves softly lapped the shores of the great lake island as the late afternoon sun warmed its sandy beaches. Soft to moderate winds blew the patches of weeds growing along the lakeshore back and forth like an old man rubbing his head to see how much hair he had left. Along the shore, two children were playing tag with the waves as a large white gull dove into the water to snare a fish. High above a plane piloted by Michael Jacobson made its way along the west side of Baker’s Island fifteen hundred feet above County Road 17. To Michael, flying his 1958 Beechcraft Travel Air came as natural as his next breath. It was a sturdy workhorse of a plane that he faithfully serviced and maintained.

Every day, Michael followed County Road 17 home as closely as a motorist would trace the same road with their finger on a road map. Michael glanced out the side window of the planes cabin at his left engine. The amber-gold light from the setting sun reflected off the waves on the lake. This reflected light animated the flames painted on the engine cover, giving Michael the illusion that they were dancing. He smiled, knowing that this natural, everyday splendor gave him the name for his plane. Eventually CR 17 turned inland in a slow, lazy angle heading toward the busy little town of Crandon, Michigan. This was Michael’s cue to start his landing approach on the east-to-west runway that sat not too far off the north side of his home.

Soon the plane’s wheels touched down on the runway. Michael slowed the aircraft down, turning it toward the back of the old hangar built by his father. Michael drove his plane through the opened rear entrance and stopped it. Turning off its motors, he grabbed his lunch box, climbed out of the aircraft, and closed the cabin door.

He set his lunch box down on one wing and stood with his arms folded, watching his four-year-old daughter Sarah and Riley, their Labrador retriever. Sarah sat in her two-wheeled pull cart that was harnessed to Riley who followed Teaser, their tabby cat. Suddenly, Teaser took off zigzagging across the yard in hot pursuit of a butterfly. Riley snorted, stopping to mark his territory. Sarah watched him for a while then she picked up the reins and slapped them across his back. Riley finished what he was doing, looked back at her, and snorted again. Then he began ambling along, hardly motivated to do anything more strenuous. Michael stood watching all this with a big smile on his face, realizing he wouldn’t trade moments like these for all the gold in the world.

Michael picked up his lunch box off the wing. He walked out of the hangar and over to the back door of their 1850s brick colonial-style home that he had inherited from his father. He opened the back door and walked over to his wife Cindy who was making a big pot of his favorite stew on the stove. Michael kissed her on her neck. As she turned around, she smiled at him. Here, try some of this and tell me if I’ve put in the right amount of spices. Cindy put a wooden spoon heaped with stew into Michael’s mouth.

Savoring it, he responded in an almost proper English accent, My dear, you have succeeded in making yet another culinary masterpiece. She smiled, turned, and washed off the spoon in the sink, sticking it back into the stew pot on the stove.

Cindy focused her eyes on him. Can you tell me why I couldn’t get you on the two-way radio today?

Michael looked at her like a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Cindy, I’m sorry. I forgot to turn my two-way radio on in my plane.

Cindy made a face. What if there was an emergency down here and I had to get a hold of you? Would I have to shoot something up in the air at you to get your attention? If I had, I might have accidently shot you down. Not because I was a bad shot, but because I’d be that mad at you. Then Cindy laughed with an impish grin on her face. That would have gotten your attention! She sighed and frowned. I’m sorry, that’s not funny. Please forgive me.

Michael looked at her. No, you’re right. I should have had it on. Suddenly, a distant stare filled his eyes. Cindy knew this stare. It meant that he was going to blurt out something totally unrelated to what they were talking about. Michael looked at his wife. Cindy, I had a bad dream about my parent’s old bedroom last night. I don’t know what it meant, but I woke up sick to my stomach.

Cindy looked at him for a moment, wondering what inspired such a dream. She knew he never talked about his parents, let alone their bedroom. Cindy watched him as he walked out of the kitchen. Then she sighed, turning back to the stove and began to stir the stew she had just made.

During supper, Abby, their eleven-year-old, looked at her dad. Hey, Dad, where were you today? I couldn’t get you on your radio to tell you my good news. I got an A-plus in math today. Aren’t you proud of me?

Michael was embarrassed. He looked at Cindy for moral support.

Cindy shrugged her shoulders. Don’t look at me. I didn’t tell her to say that.

Michael smiled, looking at his daughter. "Sweetheart, I’m very proud of you for getting the A-plus, and please use our two-way radio to call me in my plane anytime you want to talk."

Abby smiled, giving her dad a big hug.

Later, after all the dishes were washed and put away, the family took their turns in the bathroom and went to bed. It wasn’t too long after they were asleep that the darkness crept in.

The Darkness

The rule is: we cannot really forgive ourselves unless we look at the failure in our past and call it by its right name.

—Lewis B. Smedes, Forgive and Forget: Healing the Hurts We Don’t Deserve

It was midnight that same night that a severe thunderstorm blew out of the northwest. It swept down on the island, toppling trees, taking down power lines, and spreading debris all over the island. When the storm hit the Jacobson homestead, the mercury lights in the yard and the lights in the house flickered then went out, plunging everything into total blackness. Inside the house, a mysterious dark part of Michael’s past crept down the hallway toward the bedroom where he and his wife were sleeping. Inside of Michael’s sleeping mind, images of people he knew long ago were reaching out and grabbing at him. Others were screaming out his name. Suddenly, he felt a hauntingly strange but familiar pain in his body.

Outside, a brilliant flash of lightning followed by a huge crash of thunder shook the house. Suddenly, Michael sat straight up in bed and screamed. Michael jumped out of bed still yelling, I’ve got to run to the mill!

Cindy jerked awake, jumped out of bed, and tackled Michael, causing him to fall backward onto the floor with her on top of him. "Michael! It’s a bad dream! You’re okay! You’re okay!"

Hearing her voice, Michael stopped struggling and looked up at her. Between flashes of lightning, she saw a look on his face that she had never seen before, that of a hurt and frightened child. Michael was soaked in his own sweat, and his heart felt like it was beating itself out of his chest.

Cindy got off him, struggling to get him propped up in a sitting position against one of the walls near the foot of the bed. She was breathing hard. Stay here. I’m going to check on the girls.

Michael grabbed her arm. Don’t leave me, Grace!

Cindy stopped and looked at him in the darkness. Why did he call her his sister’s name? Suddenly, fear and confusion gripped her like a pair of unseen hands around her throat. It didn’t help that the wind was howling around the old house, or there were strange noises that she never heard before.

Bang! The screen door to the kitchen suddenly flew open, slamming against the house. Cindy jumped, her heart pounding in her chest. She broke into a cold sweat. She looked down at Michael sitting against the bedroom wall. Michael, I’ll be gone just a minute, okay?

Michael didn’t say a word. He let go of her arm, sitting there motionless. Cindy fumbled around in the darkness, finding the flashlight that she kept in her nightstand. Turning it on, she held it on Michael for a moment then walked out the bedroom and down the hall. Shining the light down the hallway, she heard Sarah crying. The first room after the upstairs landing was Abby’s. Cindy opened her door and called out. Abby! Do you want to come to our bedroom? Abby was already up and suddenly appeared out of the darkness. Cindy jumped, almost dropping her flashlight. Abby! You scared me half to death!

I’m sorry, Mom. Yes, I do want to be with you and Dad. I’ve been hearing creepy noises coming from the bedroom next to me.

Cindy shivered and looked at her. That was your grandparent’s old bedroom. Oh, it doesn’t matter now. Just put on your bathrobe and we’ll get your sister.

Together, they left Abby’s bedroom, walking down the hall to Sarah’s bedroom. As they opened her door, a sudden blast of wind screeched through an open window in the opposite bedroom. Its door suddenly flew open. Cindy and Abby jumped and screamed.

Cindy had to shout over the wind blowing through the open window. Let’s get Sarah! Cindy opened Sarah’s bedroom door, went in, and picked Sarah up out of her bed. Sarah wrapped her arms around her mother. Cindy talked softly to her. It’s okay. It’s okay, Sarah.

With the wind howling and moaning at them from the old bedroom, they started to walk down the darkened hallway. When they reached the upstairs landing, their imaginations had gotten the best of them. The strange shadows that the lightning was bringing to life were following and reaching out for them with their dark spidery arms. They started running.

They ran into Cindy and Michael’s bedroom, slamming the door behind them. They ran over to the bed and sat on it, holding on to each another. Soon after that, the lights came back on. Cindy exhaled. Thank you, God!

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened, and Michael walked in wiping his damp hair with a towel. Cindy sat there staring at him. Michael looked back at her. Are you okay?

Cindy didn’t say anything as she sat Sarah down and got off the bed. She walked over to Michael and wrapped her arms around his waist. Please hold me and tell me that you’re okay.

Michael put his arms around her and kissed her. Of course, I am. It’s just a plain old thunderstorm. That’s all.

Cindy looked up at his face. Don’t you remember anything that just happened?

Michael looked at her. I found myself propped up against the bedroom wall soaking wet in my own sweat. I thought that was strange. So I got up, took a shower, and put on clean pj’s. That’s when the lights came back on. What am I supposed to remember?

Cindy looked back at their daughters sitting on the bed and sighed. I’ll tell you tomorrow.

Together, they walked over to their bed and climbed in with the girls between them. Cindy looked at Abby next to her. Do you want to sleep with the light on?

Abby smiled. No. Like Dad said, it’s just a plain old thunderstorm.

The Voices from the Closet

Forgiving is not having to understand. Understanding may come later, in the fragments, an insight here and a glimpse there, after forgiving.

—Lewis B. Smedes, Forgive and Forget: Healing the Hurts We Don’t Deserve

It was around seven that same morning that Michael and Cindy woke up and unpeeled themselves from around their sleeping daughters. Leaving them in their bed, Michael