Air and Ashes, page 1
Air and Ashes
Margaret Mantor
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2024 by Margaret Mantor. All rights reserved.
No portion of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact: margaret@margaretmantor.com.
Book Cover by Damonza
Illustrations by Margaret Mantor
Hardcover ISBN 979-8-9909389-0-8
Paperback ISBN 979-8-9909389-1-5
First Edition: 2024
To Will.
Or as you named yourself in my phone "Best Husband Ever."
You make me smile and laugh every day, especially when you ask to be a character in my book. But the truth is you inspire every hero I write.
Love you.
Contents
1. CHAPTER ONE
2. CHAPTER TWO
3. CHAPTER THREE
4. CHAPTER FOUR
5. CHAPTER FIVE
6. CHAPTER SIX
7. CHAPTER SEVEN
8. CHAPTER EIGHT
9. CHAPTER NINE
10. CHAPTER TEN
11. CHAPTER ELEVEN
12. CHAPTER TWELVE
13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
14. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
16. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
17. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
18. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
19. CHAPTER NINETEEN
20. CHAPTER TWENTY
21. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
22. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
23. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
24. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
25. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
26. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
27. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
28. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
29. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
30. CHAPTER THIRTY
31. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
32. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
33. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
34. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
35. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
36. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
37. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
38. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
39. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
40. CHAPTER FORTY
41. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
42. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
43. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
44. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
45. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
46. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
COMING SOON
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
1
Someone can be right while also being wrong. I just wish I’d realized that on the day I found out everything had been a lie.
I glared down at the list—or lack of one—displayed on my screen and resisted the urge to throw my laptop across the coffee shop. All the while, the blinking insertion point timed me. Evaluated me. Who knew a little blinking line could be so judgy?
I would have much rather been drawing in my sketchbook or out running, but this midday college research session took priority.
“You look like you’re trying to solve global warming.”
I looked up from my screen. Claire Baker had been my best friend since eighth grade. Sitting across the coffee-stained table, she looked completely composed with her strategically tousled red curls, flawless fair skin, and photo-ready cherry matte lips. Like a social media motif in real life, all her study materials were perfectly coordinated with her hint-of-rose-gold outfit.
“Everyone needs a hobby.” I shrugged, pushing up the sleeves of my loose-knit sweater that I paired with jean shorts. Unlike Claire, I’d never had the ability or energy to stay on trend, so I just did my own thing.
“You’re making this waaay more difficult than it needs to be.” Claire grinned, her eyes still focused on her latest fruit-logoed laptop.
“True.” I propped my chin on my palm, looking anywhere except where I needed to.
The little coffee shop buzzed with the Saturday lunch rush. It was mostly tourists passing through on their way to the beaches around Drakes Bay or to hike to Tomales Point. The rest were locals of Point Reyes Station, like Claire. And me—well, at least for the past four years.
From the time I was eight years old, my Aunt Viv and I had bounced around various small towns in Northern California, never staying in one place for more than a year or two because of Aunt Viv’s consulting job. That was, until we moved here. And the serene sandy beaches and cozy no-streetlight town had convinced Aunt Viv to stay. So, bright side?
“Which part of the college checklist are you stuck on?” Claire asked.
“Potential majors.” I said as my screen went dark from inactivity. A slightly rounded face framed by wavy shoulder-length hair took center stage. The early afternoon sun highlighted my high cheekbones.
My dirty blonde hair and bone structure were all thanks to my mom, while my light amber skin and blue-flecked hazel eyes were from my dad—or at least that was my theory. But the anxiety shining in their depths? That was all mine. A common side effect when trying to decide your entire future—or maybe that was just me.
“Wait.” Claire frowned, her pink highlighter pausing over her notes. “I thought you were working on a list of colleges and safety schools.”
“I was, but I wasn’t getting anywhere, so I switched.” I swiped my fingers across the touchpad, wiping away my apprehensive reflection. “And then I switched again.”
Claire’s face scrunched with disapproval.
“Plus, why not start with the career I want?” I fidgeted with the simple gold sun charm on my necklace. “Then match that against where I want to go.”
“Good point.” Claire grinned. “What majors do you have so far?”
“The thing to focus on is not the ones listed, but all the ones I eliminated.” Pre-med. Computer science. Poli sci.
“Sooo translation: You have nothing?”
“I wouldn’t say nothing.”
“Then what do you have?”
“A title and some bullet points.” Which was something.
“Emma Cross.” Claire pointed her pink highlighter like a judge’s gavel. “How do you have nothing? We’ve been here for two hours.”
“I know, I know. But it’s a massive life decision.” I tucked back a rebellious wave of hair. “Not everyone knew what they wanted to be since the age of five.”
“It was more like nine.”
I arched my brows at her.
“Point taken.” Claire waved a dismissive hand. “But you’re forgetting my momentary lapse of sanity when I thought about switching from pre-med to pharmacology.”
“Oh, the horror,” I teased her.
“But thank heavens I did my research and, of course, that article I found. Who wants the headache of dealing with the shady drug underworld or the unethical experimentation black market? Do you know who doesn’t look like drug dealer material?” Claire pointed a polished nail at herself. “This girl.”
I grinned, even as a spark of jealousy flared. I couldn’t help it; it happened every time I thought of Claire’s goals. She knew where she fit in and what she wanted to be. I’ve never had that kind of clarity. More like a dense fog obscuring every possibility in sight. Hell, until Point Reyes I’d never been in one place long enough to really take my future seriously. Maybe that was why I couldn’t imagine leaving now.
My phone dinged with a notification, and I reached into my backpack to dig it out. The screen showed a missed call and a voicemail. When did it ring?
“I still don’t know how you do it.” Claire’s face pinched with disgust.
I snapped open the phone. “It’s not that bad.”
“It’s a flip phone,” she said, like it personally offended her. “And not the new fun kind.”
I shook my head as my fingers flew across the vintage keys, the ancient technology struggling to keep up as the battery light flashed red.
Nice.
Hitting play on the message, I put the phone to my ear just as Aunt Viv’s enthusiastic voice came through the speaker.
“Hey. Hey. Hope you and Claire are making me proud by nerding it up today.” She chuckled at her own corny joke, making me smile. “This project is taking longer than expected so it looks like I won’t make it to the store. Would you mind stopping by on your way home? We just need a few things.” I snagged my pen and flipped to a blank page in my sketchbook, scribbling down the list of items. “And remember, not everything has to be healthy. Throw some junk food in there. Go crazy. I’ll see you when you get home. Love you, Emma-bug.”
Aunt Viv might be a technological wizard—or Spunky-Tech-Guru, as I’d fondly dubbed her—but the whole parenting thing? Not really her strong suit. But she definitely got an A-for-effort. A participation trophy. An attendance sticker.
I’d never admit it out loud, but a part of me would always wonder how Mom would’ve raised me or helped me find my path in life if she were still here…
I shook myself, the turn in my thoughts not surprising. Especially around this time of year. And maybe especially this year, what with it being my senior year and my eighteenth birthday only five months away.
“
“That thing has a name.” I placed a hand over my heart. “And Flipper is a sensitive soul.”
“Uh-huh.”
“As for Flipper’s purpose—”
“Punishment,” Claire corrected.
“Aunt Viv said it’s about building character and not letting technology rule my life.” I shrugged. “Which is—”
“Ironic coming from her?” Claire offered.
“A bit.” I lifted my cup of tea only to find it empty.
“Although, she might have a point. Considering you’re close to finishing your GED and it’s only the beginning of September.” Claire tapped her highlighter against her chin. “Who knew homeschooling would have such benefits? Think of all the extra time you’ll have to plan out your college strategy. Super jealous.”
One person’s seclusion was another’s oasis. Or something like that.
With Point Reyes being such a small town, there was only an elementary and middle school within its limits. So, when it had come time to start high school, instead of busing me off to another neighboring town like Claire, Aunt Viv had enrolled me in a virtual education program. Which, yes, had its benefits, but also definitely its drawbacks—cough, social outcast, cough.
“I guess, but it’s funny.” I picked at my cup sleeve. “Aunt Viv has always encouraged me to boost my education, but lately she’s been acting really weird.”
“How so?”
“The whole college thing. Anytime I bring it up, she gets super jumpy.” I waved a hand at our table. “I didn’t even tell her we were researching colleges today, only that we were studying. Just to avoid the drama.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “I don’t get it. I figured she’d be fully on board the college train. But maybe she thinks I’ll just be wasting my time and money.” Without a clear goal, that was entirely possible.
“Or maybe,” Claire fake sniffled. “She’s realizing her baby bird is leaving the nest.”
I snorted, though I had to admit the idea of Aunt Viv on her own was terrifying. Technically she was a full-grown adult, but if the past nine years were any indication, the outcome didn’t look promising.
“Hey, no judgment toward Auntie V.” Claire rested her chin on her fist. “My mom’s going to bawl her eyes out when I leave for college.”
My heart constricted as I gripped my sun charm. Would Mom have cried if I left for college? Or been the one encouraging me to get out there and discover my place in the world?
Mom always had this way of creating a safe harbor in the storm—a home. Whether it was her paint-covered studio or her vanilla candles and optimistic smiles, she always created a place where I belonged. Even on her worst days when her disease reared its ugly head…
“I’m sorry.” Claire broke into my thoughts as I tried to figure out why she was apologizing. “The mom comment. I didn’t think.”
I squeezed her hand. “You did nothing wrong.”
“Still, I should have read the timing.” Claire fidgeted with her highlighter.
“Honestly, with all the talk about colleges and the future, my mind would’ve gone there regardless.” I swallowed hard. “Especially since Aunt Viv keeps bugging me about a graduation present, but I’ve been thinking about making a donation instead, maybe even getting an inscription added to my mom’s memorial plaque—you know, as a way of including her in the moment.”
“That’s a great idea.” Claire smiled. “Where did she get treatments? Maybe my parents know someone there, and they could investigate the options for you.”
“That’d be amazing. But I…” I hesitated, trying to remember back. “I never actually went to the treatment center. My mom didn’t want me seeing all that, especially at the end.”
“Understandable.” Claire grimaced. “All the chemo bags and needles are enough to scare anyone.”
A shiver cascaded over me. The IVs and home treatments during the last year were enough to achieve that. Even almost nine years later, I still couldn’t look at medical equipment without feeling lightheaded.
“I do remember they have a digital version of the memorial wall.” Aunt Viv had shown it to me when Mom’s dedication was first unveiled. We’d already moved by then and couldn’t be there in person, but we’d held a candlelight vigil next to the computer screen to honor the moment, and then we went and got my mom’s favorite treat—doughnuts. We did that every year after her passing. But my heart pinched as I realized I couldn’t remember the last time we’d done that…
Determination coursed through me as I promised myself to do whatever it took to make sure it happened this year.
“And I remember the treatment center’s logo, but not the name.” My brows pinched in concentration. “Ugh. How can I remember the sketchy mountains and trees but not the name?”
“Don’t worry.” Claire waved her hand. “It’ll come to you.”
The sinking feeling in my chest told me otherwise, but I plastered on a hopefully reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m sure it will.”
An awkward silence settled over our table as the tip-of-the-tongue sensation nagged at me.
“Refills?” Claire held up her cup, her smile tentative. “Then we can talk about shopping for our homecoming dresses.”
“Yes, please.” I dug out my wallet, feeling giddy. This would be my first high school dance, and by some miracle I’d convinced Aunt Viv to let me go, so I was so on board for that.
“Perfect. I’ll order this round.” Claire scooted out of the booth and grabbed the cash I offered. “Seriously, you need to get on board with digital currency already. You make me feel like a hooker with these onesies.”
“Aww. It’s sweet that you think I could afford you.”
“Not with your budget.” Claire wiggled her eyebrows before sauntering away.
I tried to imagine what kind of dress I’d wear. But just as I thought about searching for options, it occurred to me. Searching. That was how I’d find the treatment center name.
My fingers sprinted across the keys. I didn’t know exactly where to start my search, but that’s why Google existed. I plugged a few keywords into the search bar and sifted through the results until I found a promising site—a cancer treatment center just north of Carnelian Bay.
Nestled on the North Shore of Lake Tahoe, Carnelian Bay was where the little cottage the three of us had called home resided. It hadn’t been much, but it was the first home I’d ever known. It made sense that Mom’s treatment center would be as close as possible to where we’d lived. Feeling confident, I clicked the link and immediately my path was blocked.
Crap.
Aunt Viv’s firewall was working hard, even on a Saturday. My aunt had blockers on basically everything, lecturing me over and over about the dangers of the dark underbelly of the digital world. And sure, she had way more experience with this stuff than I did, but I was willing to roll the dice this one time.
It also helped that I’d learned the administrative passcode a few months ago. I’d always had a thing for patterns. I was weird like that. It was one reason I was so good at puzzles or how I could draw various sequences so well. And that’s what this passcode was—another pattern. One that would lead me to answers.
My fingers hesitated on the keys. Aunt Viv’s warnings returned with a vengeance. Her words were so ingrained in me that it felt like a betrayal to ignore them. If she ever found out, she’d be so disappointed. Would she ground me? Take away my computer privileges? Or worse, not let me go to Claire’s homecoming dance? Was I really willing to risk that?
On the other hand, there was a chance Aunt Viv would never know, and it wasn’t like this was the first time I’d bent the rules. Plus, if this was the right site, then technically I’d already been there, done that.
Heart pounding, I tapped the proper keys, each one blazing through my vision like they were backlit. But I refused to focus on the faintly glowing sequence of keys that no one else could see. This time they were helping me—like with learning the administrative passcode—not distracting me or highlighting the weird way my brain worked.
I hit enter and held my breath, waiting to be denied—or for Aunt Viv to pop up out of nowhere. But the passcode worked, and a professional and inviting website with an achingly familiar logo appeared on my screen—score. The site was easy enough to navigate and with a couple of clicks I located the Donations & Memorials page, plugged in Mom’s name and hit enter.
