Fire: Empty Shadows
With only a few weeks of school remaining, the students were more than ready for summer. The warmer temperatures often made for disagreeable, sweaty children, but not this day—this day was altogether different.
“What do you think this is about, Ben? Why do you think this guy would want to talk to me?” Charlotte asked as they walked toward the grist mill.
“I have no idea. We just have to wait and see.”
Larry met them at the door, looking very serious. “I won’t beat around the bush. Lenny and Greg caught this man coming out of the schoolhouse this morning. Long story short, when they approached him, he was holding a tin of turpentine and a striker. It looked as if he was trying to start a fire.”
“What? With the children inside?”
“Yes. They each grabbed an arm and held him while they sent one of the children to find me.” He looked at Charlotte now. “Calls himself Carl. He was asking for you, Charlotte, you and Ben. Don’t know why. Would you care to speak to him?”
She looked at Ben; they’d never know what it was about if they didn’t see him. As far as she knew, neither of them knew a Carl, but Charlotte was curious to learn his interest in them. “Yes,” Ben said. He began walking toward the door of the gaol. Larry reminded them he was just outside if needed.
Charlotte followed her husband into the cell and heard the door close behind them. Inside was a man sitting on the edge of the thin pallet—elbows on knees, chin in hands—who glanced up as the door locked. He appeared to be of medium height and build, with short, tousled light-brown hair, and looked to be about forty years old.
“Carl, is it? We were told you wanted to see us?” Ben began.
Carl nodded and offered a nervous smile. “I was not trying to burn down the schoolhouse, not at all. In fact, I was trying to stop what would have become a fire. I tried to tell them, but they didn’t want to listen.”
“I don’t follow,” Ben responded.
Charlotte had been looking at this man’s face, feeling as if she should know who he was, and yet she did not. “I’m sorry,” she started, “but have we met?”
He looked from Ben to her and smiled. “Many years ago.” Her mind was searching, trying to remember. “And not for many years to come.”
“What do you think this is about, Ben? Why do you think this guy would want to talk to me?” Charlotte asked as they walked toward the grist mill.
“I have no idea. We just have to wait and see.”
Larry met them at the door, looking very serious. “I won’t beat around the bush. Lenny and Greg caught this man coming out of the schoolhouse this morning. Long story short, when they approached him, he was holding a tin of turpentine and a striker. It looked as if he was trying to start a fire.”
“What? With the children inside?”
“Yes. They each grabbed an arm and held him while they sent one of the children to find me.” He looked at Charlotte now. “Calls himself Carl. He was asking for you, Charlotte, you and Ben. Don’t know why. Would you care to speak to him?”
She looked at Ben; they’d never know what it was about if they didn’t see him. As far as she knew, neither of them knew a Carl, but Charlotte was curious to learn his interest in them. “Yes,” Ben said. He began walking toward the door of the gaol. Larry reminded them he was just outside if needed.
Charlotte followed her husband into the cell and heard the door close behind them. Inside was a man sitting on the edge of the thin pallet—elbows on knees, chin in hands—who glanced up as the door locked. He appeared to be of medium height and build, with short, tousled light-brown hair, and looked to be about forty years old.
“Carl, is it? We were told you wanted to see us?” Ben began.
Carl nodded and offered a nervous smile. “I was not trying to burn down the schoolhouse, not at all. In fact, I was trying to stop what would have become a fire. I tried to tell them, but they didn’t want to listen.”
“I don’t follow,” Ben responded.
Charlotte had been looking at this man’s face, feeling as if she should know who he was, and yet she did not. “I’m sorry,” she started, “but have we met?”
He looked from Ben to her and smiled. “Many years ago.” Her mind was searching, trying to remember. “And not for many years to come.”
