Chapter Seven
Mirabelle didn't leave her home for the rest of the weekend. She stayed in her room crying and bemoaning her hopeless and unfair life. She had decided to devote the rest of her life to Edward. She had given up whatever dreams and ambitions she had, however undiscovered, to love him and be his partner in life.
Maybe there was still a chance that he loved her. Though her ability would be bewildering to him at first, perhaps he could still love her for who she was.
Mirabelle fell asleep on her bed with her eyes sore and her mouth dry from crying. Sleep, however, offered her no peaceful respite, for Mirabelle's rest was replaced instead by a strange dream...
Mirabelle found herself lost in the busy heart of an unknown city trying to find her way home. She had no map and no directions. All she had was the vague memory of where home was. She wandered through the crowds of people, aimlessly. She didn't know where to go. She didn't know in which direction she should head.
While wandering along the streets she spotted a phone booth. She opened the booth's door and went inside. Rummaging through her pockets, she found a single dime. She placed the dime in the slot and dialed her parents' phone number.
"Hello?" asked her mother.
"Mom?" said Mirabelle.
"Mirabelle?" questioned her mother.
"Yes. Mom, I'm in the city and I'm lost. Can you give me some directions?" asked Mirabelle.
"Just follow the crowds of people, Mirabelle. You'll end up somewhere," replied her mother.
"But I want to go home," Mirabelle pleaded. She was waiting for an answer from her mother when her father's voice vibrated out of the earpiece.
"Just follow the largest group of people you can find, Miry," he said to her. "Understand?"
"But I want to go home," Mirabelle repeated.
"Don't worry about that," said her father. "A large group of people have got to know where they're going," he finished.
"But Dad," said Mirabelle, dejectedly.
"No buts, Miry. Now go on," he said before he hung up the phone.
Mirabelle looked about her for the largest group of people she could find. She spotted one and began to follow it but then she spotted a larger group and began to follow that one. She followed one larger group after another until she had to sit down dazed and confused. She decided that all this mindless wandering was pointless. Besides, she didn't want to follow some group: she wanted to go home.
What she needed was a leader: Someone to follow, someone to show her the way home. She looked around and saw a man speaking to a growing crowd of people below him as he stood on a flight of stairs. "He looks like a leader," Mirabelle thought as she joined the crowd of people at his feet. She listened to what he had to say:
"Fellow citizens, I know the way," he said to them. "If you want to know the right way to go you have to follow me," he continued. "Only I know the right way to go."
"I want to go home," said Mirabelle to him as she waved her arm above her head so the man could see her.
"Yes, I'll lead you home," he told Mirabelle. She was relieved she would finally be going home.
The group left the sidewalk they had gathered on and began to follow the man. He led them through the streets of the city with forthrightness in his step. He definitely seemed to know where he was going.
They continued on their way but after a while Mirabelle began to feel uneasy. She was sure that they weren't heading in the direction of her home even though she didn't know where home was. She resolved to point this out to the leader.
"Mister," she called out to him, "I don't think this is the way to my home."
"Yes it is," he reprimanded her, "This is the way home."
Mirabelle wasn't satisfied. It just didn't feel right. After everyone turned to follow the leader she slipped away from the crowd and sat down on the sidewalk. She was feeling beside herself in despair: how was she ever going to get home?
She watched all the busybodies rush around her speeding away to who knows where then caught sight of a dark-looking man who was wandering among the crowds looking as lost as Mirabelle was. When he looked her way she waved her arm to call him over. "Maybe," she thought, "we could help each other find our way through the city."
He walked up to where Mirabelle was sitting and stood before her. His face and figure was indistinct but she could make out that he was holding torn up pieces of paper in both of his hands.
"Yes?" asked the stranger.
"I'm lost," replied Mirabelle, "and you look a little lost, too. I was wondering if we could help each other find our way to wherever we're trying to go."
"I'd like that," said the stranger. "Where are you trying to get to?" he asked her.
"Home," Mirabelle replied.
"Me too," answered the stranger.
"Oh good," said Mirabelle. "But which way is home?" she asked him.
"I don't know exactly," he told her, "but I have a vague memory of where it is."
Mirabelle had a vague idea where home was, as well.
"So do I," replied Mirabelle. "I think it's out of the city," she added, though she was mostly guessing.
"I think you're right," he answered, "Let's go."
They began to head in the direction that appeared to lead out of the city. As they walked, Mirabelle took a closer look at his hands hoping to see what he held. It appeared to be the remains of a shredded photograph. Thinking it impolite to ask the stranger what he held, Mirabelle refrained from asking.
In the blink of an eye they found themselves outside of the city standing at one end of a narrow plank that crossed a ravine. On the other side of the ravine was an enchanted forest. The stranger spoke:
"Home is in that forest," he told Mirabelle, "I remember."
"I remember, too," replied Mirabelle. The forest seemed familiar to her.
"Come on," the stranger said to her, "let's cross the ravine." He started across the narrow plank.
"Wait!" cried Mirabelle. The stranger stopped and carefully turned around to look at her. "I can't cross. I'm afraid," she said. The stranger cautiously backed up until he stood beside Mirabelle.
"We have to cross, it's the only way," he told her.
"I know," she answered, "but I can't." She looked at him pitifully and said, "Please help me."
The stranger looked at Mirabelle then looked at his hands. For a long time he held his closed fists before him, wondering what he should do. With a sigh, he opened his hands and let the shreds of paper fall. Mirabelle watched as the bits of paper landed on the ground. Before Mirabelle could take a closer look a gust of wind picked up the pieces of paper in a swirl of motion and carried the remains into the distance until they disappeared.
Mirabelle looked up at the stranger. He faced away from her, staring at where the wind carried his memories away. He features were still indistinct to Mirabelle, making him dark and mysterious. He turned to look at Mirabelle then said, "Come on, let's go." He took her by the hand and together they carefully inched along the plank and crossed the ravine.
They had reached the forest and instinctively knew home was nearby. Quickly, they ran through the forest expecting to come upon the place they knew as home. Suddenly, the forest dissolved around them and then found themselves on a bluff that rested opposite mountains and a valley. They were finally home and were happy about it. Mirabelle and the stranger held each other in their arms and jumped up and down while shouting, "We made it! We made it!"
Mirabelle looked around and found an open treasure chest waiting for her. Inside was a little statue. Mirabelle held her little treasure in her hands, admiring it, when she heard the stranger call out, "Hey, look at this." She turned around and walked up to where he stood pointing out across the bluff. As her sight followed his finger to the distant horizon before them, a crack of sunlight broke through the darkness. The sun had begun to rise. It was so beautiful that Mirabelle started to cry.
Mirabelle awoke to the sound of her alarm clock ringing at her. She flung her arm at the clock, hitting the button on its top to quiet it. She lay in her bed going over the details of her dream. After a few moments, she let it go from her mind and then paused to look at the ceiling. She wondered what her future had in store for her.
After having breakfast, Mirabelle left home to go to work. She walked in the early morning air, in the light of the sunrise. It's bright, warming rays enveloped her as she walked but they failed to dissolve the dreary unhappiness she felt in her heart. From deep within, she knew that Edward would no longer love her.
Mirabelle approached the small corner grocery store where she worked. Strangely, its inside lights were already on. Usually, Mirabelle would be the first person to turn on the lights for the day. "That's odd," she thought to herself, "the lights are already on. I wonder who's in there?" Inside, she saw Mr. Robert standing behind the counter. She pushed open the store's glass door and entered.
"Good morning, Mr. Robert," she said to him, smiling.
"Morning," Mr. Robert replied. He stood there emotionless, as dull as his grey hat which sat on the counter before him. It felt strange for Mirabelle to see him so unlike his usual colourful self.
"Is something wrong, Mr. Robert?" Mirabelle asked.
"Mirabelle, you can't work here anymore, you're fired," he said in a flat, mechanical tone of voice.
"What?!" she responded in surprise, "How can you fire me? What did I do?"
"I just think its time for you to find some new kind of work, to move on and such," he replied, looking at the rows of foodstuffs and not at her.
"But I've been working here for years!" Mirabelle let out. This unexpected event added to her depressed condition caused her emotions to erupt from the depths of her being.
Mr. Robert looked at her with fear and took a step back. It seemed as though he were afraid that the store would suddenly burst in flames around him. After a few moments he regained his composure and replied:
"Please just leave," he said frowning, "You'll get your paycheque and severance in the mail."
Mirabelle looked at him angrily then turned and exited the store. She marched home in a fury. Passerbys on the street kept a discreet distance from her, going even so far as to cross the street to walk past her on the opposite sidewalk.
She returned home and came to stand before her kitchen table. With a crashing thud, her fist slammed down hard on the table. "What was going on?" she wondered, "Why is this happening to me?"
"Oh, who's there?" questioned a timid voice from somewhere in the house. Mirabelle turned to look around. Walking out of the kitchen, she scanned the hallway and rooms. In the living room she found Mrs. Herbert staring at her in surprise, looking a little flustered.
"Oh, Mirabelle. I thought you were at work," said Mrs. Herbert. She was visibly uneasy.
"I was, but Mr. Robert fired me," Mirabelle said angrily, "Just like that. He didn't even give me a reason why." She noticed Mrs. Herbert had what seemed to be a note in her hand. "Can I help you somehow Mrs. Herbert?" she asked her.
"Oh no. I was just looking for something I misplaced around here," said Mrs. Herbert. She looked quite agitated now to Mirabelle. In fact, Mirabelle could have sworn she was shaking.
"Well, I'll help you look for it Mrs. Herbert," said Mirabelle cheerfully.
"Oh, that's quite alright, Mirabelle," said Mrs. Herbert. She moved her plump carriage towards the front door while saying, "I'll just come back some other time." As Mrs. Herbert hurried past her, the slip of paper dropped from her hand. Mirabelle stooped to pick it up.
"Mrs. Herbert, you dropped your piece of paper," Mirabelle said. She took a quick look at it as she stood up. As her eyes continued to read it, she paused, stunned. Mirabelle's mouth fell open in surprise and the note slipped from her fingers, floating to the ground. Mrs. Herbert turned to look at her. Mirabelle sputtered, "Mrs. Herbert, you're throwing me out?!"
"I'm sorry Mirab..." Mrs. Herbert started to say but was cut off in midsentence.
"I can't believe it," said Mirabelle shaking her head, "Why, Mrs. Herbert?"
"My family," Mrs. Herbert replied. "They don't want me allowing you to live here any longer," Mrs. Herbert said forlornly, looking down at her feet and shaking her head.
"But where will I go?" Mirabelle questioned herself, out loud.
"If it were up to me I'd let you stay, Mirabelle," said Mrs. Herbert, "You're a good girl and what everyone else says is completely untrue." Mrs. Herbert looked up to her and shook her head defiantly.
"What are people saying about me?" asked Mirabelle, "Who's saying what?"
"They're calling you a witch," said Mrs. Herbert angrily, "They're saying you're in league with the Devil, that you can control fires like a demon from Hell."
"What? This is insane!" Mirabelle cried out as she stomped her boot on the wooden floor. She knew she had some strange connection with fire but she never considered herself a minion from Hell.
"I can't believe it either," responded Mrs. Herbert, "They said you put out the fire at The Golden Nugget, that you started crying and the fire put itself out."
"This is crazy," Mirabelle muttered, shaking her head.
She knew she had put out the fire but now was the time to feign ignorance and innocence. No one could understand her ability to control fires or the way she felt towards nature. She had to hide and suppress this part of herself for a long time now--ever since the day she had saved the farm house and frightened her mother. She had kept her fire-controlling ability a secret, vigilantly. She had even decided to give them up for good--to finally stop being different, to be like everyone else, to fit in. It was only because Edward's factory was about to burn down that she used her gift. Edward, the man she loved... or used to love.
"Who is saying these things about me?" asked Mirabelle.
"I didn't want to have to tell you this," said Mrs. Herbert in a quiet voice, "but it's Edward. Edward Davis, your fiancee."
Mirabelle dropped to her knees as though she had been smitten by an unseen giant's blow. "I don't believe it," she whimpered as tears started to fall from her eyes. Mrs. Herbert helped Mirabelle up and led her to the couch in the small living room. She sat beside Mirabelle and held her in her arms like a loving grandmother.
"Mirabelle, Mirabelle, everything's going to be okay," said Mrs. Herbert as she tenderly held Mirabelle. "You can stay here as long as you want. This was my husband's and my house, and I decide who can or cannot stay. My children can't tell me what to do with it."
Mirabelle didn't hear a word Mrs. Herbert had said. She was too hurt by what she couldn't believe to be true. Mirabelle loved no one more than she did Edward and no one could have hurt her more.
