Fire in the Stars (28 page)

“Through which you'd finance your family-adventure trips, and the rest could go to an overseas children's charity. For child soldiers, or for education in the refugee camps.”

She fell silent. Took a deep, steadying breath. For the first time in a long while, she felt hope. A way forward. It needed work, but it was a thrilling idea. But could she manage all the minutiae — the planning, the promotion, and the fundraising?

As if reading her mind, he grinned. “I'd be your manager and fundraiser. I've got the connections, and my human issues blog is already up and running. Don't give an answer right away. Think about it; take the time to be sure. But man, this is the most exciting idea I've heard in a long, long time. Almost gives an old hack like me goosebumps.”

She kept the secret dream to herself, cradled and sheltered from judgment. But that night, she shared a complimentary dinner and bottle of wine with Chris at the Lightkeeper's Restaurant on the tip of Fishing Point outside St. Anthony. The local community had thrown itself into the celebration of its heroes. Amanda had been given a haircut, massage, and manicure at a local beauty salon, as well as her pick of the latest fall fashions in a local women's shop. Her hair, freshly washed, fell soft and loose down her back. The long black skirt and silk top felt deliciously foreign and exotic against her skin. Chris too had been outfitted by a local seamstress who had managed to fit a grey shirt and navy sports jacket perfectly to his gangly frame.

They sat at the window table of the restaurant, like strangers newly met. She didn't know which felt more unreal, the past or the present. His long fingers rested on the table, and a boyish grin twitched at the corner of his lips. She sensed that he, like her, was searching for words.

She finally broke her gaze and settled for the mundane but safe. “You're going back tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Reporting back to duty at Deer Lake. Sergeant Noseworthy said there may be a commendation coming down, but I'm not holding my breath. It's enough she didn't haul my ass before the disciplinary board. Corporal Vu is furious.”

“She's a smart woman. She knows the RCMP needs its heroes, and that all's well that ends well.”

“Yes,” he said. “I'm not so sure about Jason Maloney. But in the fog of the operation, his disobedience may get swept under the carpet too. He's got one hell of a headache and a badass new scar on his forehead, but he may be going to go back to life as usual.”

Not as usual
, Amanda thought.
Some things will never be the same. His sense of confidence — his belief in the power and invincibility of his badge — will be gone forever
. And Sheri had refused all contact with him, blaming him for setting the wheels in motion that had destroyed her husband and traumatized her son. Even though those wheels had been set in motion months before, on the arid killing fields of northern Nigeria.

The memory sobered her, and a silence settled between them. She knew it was time to say goodbye, but she found she couldn't find the words. Not this time.

He was watching her in the candlelight, unusually solemn now, as if he felt the same. “You'll be all right,” he said finally.

Was that a question? Was she that transparent? Unnerved by his insight, she looked out the window at the soft, black sea. A thousand stars showered the night sky.

“Remember that night we sat on the seashore and looked up at the stars?”

He grinned. “I recall we were very drunk.”

“Drunk enough to marvel at the power and meaning in those little pinpoints of light that have been guiding wanderers since the dawn of time.” She slipped a finger around his. “To answer your question, I think I will.”

T
he inspiration for
Fire in the Stars
owes much to my father, Professor Cecil Currie, who was born in Newfoundland during the early part of the twentieth century and whose tales of his childhood exploits and misadventures were the highlight of our bedtime routine when my brother, sister, and I were growing up. Through them, not only did I learn some of my earliest lessons in storytelling, but I also developed a deep affection for the rugged spirit, irreverent humour, and precarious life of those who live on The Rock.

Although my father died some time ago, I invoked his spirit often in the writing of this book. I am also indebted to my Newfoundland cousins, Lloyd and Maxime Currie and Liz Waye; Newfoundland friends, Sheila Gallant-Halloran, Jason Stuckless, and Tom Curran, who all cheerfully answered questions on everything from boats to fish to flowers, and fellow writer Susan Forrest and her husband Don, motorcycle aficionados. My friend and neighbour Rudy Broers volunteered an insider's glimpse into aid work in Africa, and fellow author Don Easton provided helpful details on RCMP search procedures.

During my research trip to the Great Northern Peninsula, many Newfoundlanders provided insight and information along the way, among them shrimp fishers, Fisheries and Oceans Canada staff, Search and Rescue volunteers, fish plant workers, and others in tourism and national parks. I'd especially like to thank Bettina Lori of Norris Point, the Civilian Ground Search and Rescue coordinator for the Bonne Bay team, who volunteered a wealth of details about dog tracking and search and rescue on the peninsula. Any inaccuracies, whether intentional for the purposes of the story, or made out of ignorance, are mine alone.

A manuscript passes before many critical eyes on its way to print. As always, I'm indebted to the members of the Ladies' Killing Circle — Joan Bosell, Mary Jane Maffini, Sue Pike, and Linda Wiken — all cherished friends who dropped everything to read the manuscript on a mere week's notice and provided thoughtful critiques. I'd also like to thank everyone at Dundurn Press for their continued support of me and of Canadian stories in general, especially Kirk Howard, Beth Bruder, my publicist Jim Hatch, my astute and enthusiastic editor Shannon Whibbs, and the cover designer Laura Boyle.

And last but not least, a huge thank-you to booksellers and readers, whose support makes it possible for me to continue doing what I love.

Copyright © Barbara Fradkin, 2016

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purpose of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.

All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Editor: Shannon Whibbs

Design: Jennifer Gallinger

Cover design: Laura Boyle

Cover image: © Igor Zhuravlov/istock.com

Epub Design: Carmen Giraudy

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Fradkin, Barbara Fraser, 1947-, author

Fire in the stars / Barbara Fradkin.

(An Amanda Doucette mystery)

Issued in print and electronic formats.

ISBN 978-1-4597-3239-1 (paperback).--ISBN 978-1-4597-3240-7 (pdf).--

ISBN 978-1-4597-3241-4 (epub)

I. Title.

PS8561.R233F57 2016 C813'.6 C2015-906826-6

C2015-906827-4

We acknowledge the support of the
Canada Council for the Arts
and the
Ontario Arts Council
for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the
Government of Canada
through the
Canada Book Fund
and
Livres Canada Books
, and the
Government of Ontario
through the
Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit
and the
Ontario Media Development Corporation
.

Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.

J. Kirk Howard, President

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