Out Of The Ashes Read online

  THE ASHES SERIES BOOK 1:

  OUT OF THE ASHES

  By Diana Gardin

  COPYRIGHT © 2013 BY DIANA GARDIN

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written consent of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Published at Smashwords

  Cover Art designed by Jimmy Gibbs of OctagonLab

  Editing completed by Katrina O’Brien

  To anyone who ever needed a second chance…and got one.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Lights will guide you home

  And ignite your bones

  And I will try…to fix you.”

  Fix You, Coldplay

  Nine Months Previously

  Burns. They don’t affect the skin the way you’d expect. You don’t even notice the pain at first. You may glance down at yourself, wondering why the bright orange flame doesn’t send searing pain to each nerve ending with its flickering caress. Then the blaze attacks your senses like an agonizing glimmer of hot fury dancing across your skin. It’s intense; the pain compares to nothing else on earth. But when that blinding heat cools, the ache remains at an eleven on a scale of one to ten. It’s dull and numbing, but it’s still a never-ending blistering, which plagues the area like an epidemic.

  The bandages covering my body were hiding my now-fiery skin as it stretched out over my bones, attempting to heal after receiving second and third degree burns. The fire consumed everything I knew: my possessions, my house, my family.

  Everything was gone.

  Worse than the material trinkets each occupying a secret, special place in my heart was the absence of love. The place in my heart responsible for all-encompassing adoration was now basically empty.

  My things were gone; my love was gone. But I was still here.

  I didn’t know why. I may never know the purpose my maker left me here to complete, my body and my heart ripped apart by flame.

  The door to my room swung open and Catherine, my nurse for the day, entered. She held her chubby palms under the sanitizer dispense by the door and rubbed her sausage-like fingers together vigorously. Catherine had become a regular piece of life, one of many nurses completing a rotation for my round-the-clock care during my stay at the center.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” she chirped.

  “What’s good about it?” I croaked. Talking was difficult. Every day it got a little easier, but I’d just rather lie in my room absorbing the silence. Why the nurses insisted on conversation, I’ll never know. I hated looking at them. The sadness and pity evident in their eyes when they spoke to me made my stomach bubble up the last meal I took.

  She reached up and opened the vertical blinds, washing the room with warm morning light.

  “Well, it arrived,” she pointed out in answer.

  That was true. It had arrived. Just like every other morning arrived in a rush of light, and every day ended under a blanket of dark silence. Redundancy was my life now. I expected it.

  “Today is an important day for you,” Catherine said. “Is anyone coming to help you get ready?”

  I nodded.

  “Wonderful. We will miss you here. Your story has touched all of us, you know. God saved you for a reason, Paige. Remember that. Never doubt that you’re in this world to do something great.”

  I nodded again, hoping the unshed tears welling up in my eyes didn’t spill over. Praying for it.

  “Who’s coming? Your friend who visits almost every day?”

  The door opened again, and again the hand dispenser whirred.

  “Her best friend,” Gillian corrected. “It’s moving day, chick!”

  A flood of emotions invaded me as Gillian entered the room, and the tears I had been hoping would stay put flooded over my eyelids and leaked onto my cheeks.

  “Oh, honey,” said Gillian. “What is it?”

  Catherine leaned over and hugged me gently. I was surprised; it was against the rules for them to touch me unnecessarily. Fear of infection had morphed me into a leper. “I’ll see you before you go,” she said. She left the room, giving Gillian and me the privacy I so desperately wanted.

  She sat down on the end of my bed and grabbed my bandaged hand. Gillian was a rule-breaker by nature. She’d never cared about the risks of touching me. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve been here for four months,” I choked out. “And in the hospital ICU for two months before that. Now it’s finally time to go home, and I don’t even know where that is.”

  “Of course you know where it is,” she chided gently. “Your home is with me. Always.”

  “Gillian,” I said, frustrated. “You have a life. You’re in college now. I refuse to ruin your world with my baggage. I can’t move in with you. I have money from the insurance—“

  “I’m not listening to this, Paige. There is no way I’m letting you leave this recovery center to go to an empty house or apartment and hire a stranger to help with your burns. You’re my family. You’ve been my family for as long as I can remember, and that doesn’t change because something tragic happened. You need me. And I’m going to be here for you. “

  She held out her fist, and I bumped her knuckles gently with my own.

  “Always,” we said in unison.

  She helped me sit up. The pain was there; it always was. It was like a dragon retreating to its lair after a battle. It would rest, but it always laid waiting for its next fight.

  “I brought you some clothes,” Gillian said. “I took the money you gave me straight to the mall and got you some stuff I knew you’d like. What will be most comfortable for you today?”

  Really, a sundress would probably be most comfortable. It would place the least amount of pressure on my still-healing skin.

  But I was going out in public today for the first time since the fire. I didn’t know how people would react to seeing the bandages that covered my arms and legs. I was able to walk around now without the left side of my face covered, but I was nervous. Would the sight of me gross people out, make them stare?

  I sighed. “Yoga pants, please. And a soft t-shirt.”

  Gillian grabbed the items out of the duffle bag she had brought and helped me into them. I winced as the pants slipped up over my too-thin hips, and Gillian apologized.

  “You can’t apologize every time I look like I hurt,” I protested. “I hurt all the time. That would be a lot of apologies.”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  We both burst into a bout of raucous laughter that sent my throat burning and my spirits soaring, something I thought was far from possib
le.

  Suddenly, a ray of light broke through the dark clouds that had eclipsed my life since the fire. The road I traveled was forever changed. Where it had once been straight and narrow, with vistas of all life’s milestones along the way, it was now twisted-curvy and pocked with potholes. My view was obscured. But just maybe, with Gillian’s help, I could make a new life for myself.

  One worth living.

  One

  Paige

  The breeze lifted a tuft of my hair, and I instinctively pulled it back down over the mottled left side of my face. I smoothed my denim skirt nervously and shifted my un-bandaged legs as I waited in line at the campus library.

  Classes were starting in a few days, and I wanted to make sure I had my books early enough to review them before I set foot in my classrooms. I couldn’t afford to fall behind now. I was finally starting college. A year later than I had planned, but at least it was happening.

  “Do you need help with those?” asked a deep male voice behind me.

  I turned around, startled, and dropped half my stack of books. I cursed, and then cursed again because I’d spoken aloud.

  He laughed, all thunderous rumbles. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  We both bent down at the same time and as our hands grabbed my political science book simultaneously, I looked into the face that was only inches away from mine.

  The blue eyes staring back at me were diamond clear and electrifying. My eyes traveled down to a perfect, straight nose and lips that were deliciously full. A pink tongue darted out to lick those lips and my heart fluttered as I straightened quickly back up. He picked up the rest of my books and I reached out my hands to take them from him when he stood.

  “I got them,” he said. “You look like you’ve got your hands full. How many classes are you taking?”

  I blushed. “Too many. I was really excited about starting school.”

  “Who’s excited about starting school?” he asked incredulously.

  I set my mouth in a grim line. He couldn’t understand where I was coming from. How could he?

  “Someone who has waited too long to start,” I answered curtly. I turned back around to face the front of the line.

  Dammit. I’d been rude again. I hadn’t meant to. My temper flared up out of nowhere since the fire. The anger seethed inside me. My therapist suggested I take slow breaths and count down from ten. I did that, and slowly turned back around to face the guy carrying my books.

  “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I can carry my books now.” I shifted the ones I had in my hands so that I would have room for three more.

  He didn’t hand them over. “That’s okay. It’s almost your turn.”

  “Next,” the bored looking cashier said, his limp blond hair falling into his eyes.

  I walked up and placed my bundle on the counter, and Mr. Blue Eyes placed the rest of my books on top of the stack. The cashier rang them up and gave me my total, yawning widely enough to show me a row of crooked teeth.

  I pulled out my debit card to pay, and handed it to him. He bagged up my books and handed me the hefty package. I took it with some difficulty, keeping my eyes purposefully trained in the opposite direction of my chatty helper and walked quickly out of the bookstore.

  Once outside, I readjusted the weight in my arms so that I could manage it better, and headed down the winding brick sidewalk toward the parking lot.

  “Wait a minute, you forgot something!”

  I cringed. Why did he have to come after me? I’d embarrassed myself enough for one day. I sighed and turned around slowly.

  Mr. Blue Eyes came strolling toward me, clutching something in one hand.

  “Here,” he said, slipping it into my bag.

  “What is it?” I asked suspiciously.

  He grinned widely. “It’s a U of R bumper sticker. I figured you’d need one, since you are so full of school pride and all.”

  This time, I blushed in earnest. “Are you making fun of me?”

  His grin spread wider, if that was possible. He ran a hand over his short brown hair.

  “Maybe. It’s safe enough, seeing as how your hands are full at the moment.”

  I gaped at him. This guy was something else. “Look—“

  “Clay,” he supplied. “My name is Clay. What’s yours?”

  “We’re not giving introductions, here, Clay,” I spluttered angrily. “I appreciate you picking up my books for me. Have a nice life!”

  I tried to storm away as best I could while holding a bag full of heavy books, and managed only to wobble as shakily as a newborn foal toward the lot. When I got to my car, I paused. I hadn’t self-consciously adjusted my hair over my face once during my conversation with Clay. I’d been too angry to think about it.

  Well good, I thought harshly. Maybe my Frankenstein-like scars scared him to death, and I won’t have to see him again. How satisfying. How terrifying.

  When I arrived back at the apartment, Gillian’s infectious smile greeted me. “Hey chick, how was the bookstore?”

  “Exhausting,” I answered wearily. I plopped down on the couch in a heap of books and thin limbs.

  “I warned you not to do too much, too fast,” she said. “I know it’s time for you to start school but I want you to take it slow. You’re not used to the craziness that is college.”

  “I know, but I’m ready,” I answered. “I’m sick of living like an invalid. I’ve been living with you for a year, watching you go through this and wishing I could be a part of it. I need this, Gill. More than you know.”

  She reached out and hugged me, squeezing me tightly in her arms.

  “Not more than I know,” she whispered. “I know exactly how ready you are for this, Paige. I just don’t want you to overdo it is all. Take it a little slow.”

  I hugged her back, knowing she was right. More than anything, I wanted the normal life the fire had ripped from me. My eyes glazed over as past memories overtook me.

  “They’d be proud of you, you know,” Gillian said softly.

  I looked at her, startled. She must have been reading my mind.

  “You think so?” I asked her.

  “I know so,” she answered. “Your parents would want you to live, Paige, and live well. Your brother would want to see you succeeding, killing it out there.”

  I nodded. What would my life look like now if that damn fire had never happened? It was a thought that repeated itself in my mind every single day. But it didn’t help move me forward. My therapist told me that. Remembering them was good. What-ifs weren’t.

  Because the fire had happened. And they were gone. But I was still here, and I was actually starting college in a few days. The thought sent excited tingles of nerves throughout my body. My mind wandered to the blue-eyed helper from the bookstore, and those tingles intensified.

  Two

  Clay

  The party raged around me. I sat on the couch, observing rather than participating tonight.

  A gorgeous, curvy blond with a frightening shock of darkness on the underside of her hair found herself a seat on my lap. She straddled my legs, facing me. It gave me a nice big view of the lacy panties she was wearing beneath her short dress. Subtle.

  “Where’s my party boy tonight?” she pouted. “You’re no fun at all.”

  I placed my hands on her waist and squeezed, removing her from my lap and depositing her on the couch beside me. I ignored her squeal of protest.

  “I’m not your party boy,” I answered. “I’ve got things on my mind tonight.”

  “Well, what can I do to help you get me on your mind, and on other things?”

  “Absolutely nothing.”

  Her frown deepened. I shook my head and dragged myself off the couch to grab another cup of beer from the keg in the corner.

  “Dude!” my roommate, Drew, slung a lanky arm around my neck and squeezed. “It’s crazy in here tonight!”

  “Crazy,” I agreed, rolling my eyes. Drew, Rob, and I had been doing the same back-to-s
chool bash for the past three years. Senior year wasn’t going to be any different. We’d find any excuse to throw a party and charge five bucks at the door.