ONLY YOU
This one is for the
Winter Holidays Story Contest 2022
. As always, your votes and comments are much appreciated. Hope you enjoy this. And Best Wishes for the Holidays!
Just so you know, everyone involved with each other in this story, is over the age of eighteen.
©2022 Smuttyandfun
I could feel a smile spreading across my face, even as I slept. It was that dream again. Remembering back to that magical night that we'd first made love. It was late fall, and the air was cool as we snuggled together under a blanket on the beach. The campfire Russell had made to try to keep us warm was burning down, casting a soft orange glow over our faces as we gazed into each other's eyes.
I was so happy, thinking how perfect the night had turned out, and how close we'd become. Russell cupped my face in his hands and kissed me as he lowered me onto my back...
Suddenly, my forehead wrinkled and my nose started twitching as the smoke filled the air, and I wondered why the fire was smoking. It was like someone had doused it with water. I opened my eyes and sat up in bed.
Oh my god, this was no dream. I could smell smoke!
I shot out of bed, threw on some slippers, grabbed my robe and ran into my sister's room. "Meg!" I screamed, shaking her awake. "There's a fire! We have to get out!"
Following close behind, Meg almost tripped over me when I stopped to feel the door to see if it was hot. It felt okay, so I carefully pulled it open and peeked out, relieved that I couldn't see any smoke. "Come on, let's go." I nodded for her to follow, and we hurried down the side staircase that led out onto the street.
We were standing together on Main Street in front of our hair salon and I couldn't believe what I was seeing, as we both broke into tears.
Our town's little church was fully engulfed, with flames shooting up from the roof into the night sky.
"Oh, no. Not the church." We both sobbed, clinging to each as we watched it burn.
We could hear the fire trucks rumbling up the street with their sirens blaring, as the front windows shattered, with flames licking at the old brick walls.
Everyone in town seemed to be out watching. Old Mrs. Wilson, noticing we were only in our robes, came and put a quilt over our shoulders as we held each other and shivered.
"I was baptised, and married in that old church. And so were my parents," she told us, sadly shaking her head.
"I think we were all baptised in there, Mrs. Wilson," my sister said, hiccupping and wiping at her eyes. And everyone in our family was married and buried from that old church, too.
As the wind picked up, feeding the flames, everyone was brushing away tears, even the men, as we all watched the fire consume the heart of our town.
"There's not much we can do out here. And I'm sure the firemen will do whatever they can to try and save what's left of it. So, I'm going home. It's too cold to stand around out here," Mrs. Wilson said, giving us both an affectionate little pat on the back, before she headed around the corner to her house.
"We should probably go back upstairs. We can see it from the window. And at least we'll be warm," I said. My sister silently nodded and followed me back up.
We watched for a while from our front window, and when they seemed to be getting it under control, we both heaved a shaky sigh and decided we might as well go back to bed.
Our mother called in the morning as I was getting dressed. "I hope you girls are both okay. I only heard about the fire this morning. I can't believe we slept through the whole thing. But of course, your father just got back last night," she said with a little laugh.
"I'm glad to hear he's back."
"He won't be here for long, but it's still nice to have him home. From what I heard about the church, it seems that most of the damage was confined to the front entry way, and of course the roof will have to be replaced. The mayor's already talking about doing some fund-raising to get the repairs done. When I heard, I felt so sorry for Mavis, the church secretary. Apparently, she forgot to send the check in to pay the insurance, so there's nothing to cover the damage."
"Oh, that is too bad. She must feel terrible. But I think if everyone in town puts their heads together, I'm sure we can think of a few ways to raise some money," I said, already thinking about what we could do at our salon.
While Meg and I sat and had our coffee at our kitchen table, my sister and I decided that we could donate at least one day a week's profits to the church fund.
"I think Saturday would work best," I suggested, because it was always our busiest day, with weddings and parties, and everyone wanting their hair and nails done for the weekend.
One nice thing about living in a small town is we all knew each other, and knew we could count on each other, too.
Monday evening, I couldn't believe the crowd that showed up. The hockey arena was jam packed. Seemed that everyone had an idea on how to raise some money. I thought Mayor Wilkens was clever to have come prepared with a gavel that he could bang on the table. Then at least everyone would get a chance to talk, without being drowned out by all the other ideas being shouted.
I noticed dear old Miss Lizzie and her sister Miss Annie had their hands up to speak. When she was finally called upon, Miss Lizzie straightened her spine, cleared her throat, and we stood staring at her wide-eyed as she gave her suggestion. "I think we should have a dance, and all us single ladies could charge a dollar a dance. When our brothers were away in the war we raised quite a bit of money, just from holding Saturday evening soirees."
Everyone in the room looked away as they struggled to keep a straight face, as we pictured the two old dears all dolled up, wearing their dancing shoes. Still, it was sweet of them to think they had a solution, especially considering they were almost ninety.
