3) The Flame Against The Shadows

Cece watches the view of the soul-quenching scenery of LakeShore, straddling the Blue Waters; the largest lake that runs along the edge of the town, where it feeds into five other enmeshed lakes.

She flinches. “Ow.” Cece grits her teeth, rubbing her arm, dousing the short flare of pain.

Her head whips to the side. Litha shoves his headphones down to rest them on his shoulders.

“We’ve been driving for hours. I know it’s been a long time since we’ve been here, but grandpop’s hometown ain’t that big.”

“First. The GPS said that the drive to Lakeshore takes over two hours from the airport. And secondly—” she points to the window behind him, “—we’re already here.”

He twists his torso to fully gaze out of the window. His phone slips from his grasp and plops onto his lap. The car glides down the serpentine road that hugs the edge of crystal-clear waters, weaving through the landscape like a ribbon of silver. The radiant sun, in all its splendid glory, casts a golden glow over the tranquil expanse, the surface shimmering with pools of white. Further ahead, divisions of stretched land are encrusted with opulent houses that sprawl unto the lake like terrestrial fingers, adorned with the verdure of verdant foliage.

Litha blows out a whistle, impressed. “Definitely more beautiful than I remember.”

Unable to disagree, she nods absently.

The vehicle cuts through the central business district of the town. They catch flashes of the townspeople and the pastel-coloured buildings as the car zips by. Driving on and on, past a band of stores, neighborhoods and standalone homes. The car seems to journey farther to the end, as if at one point the road will just end and after. It will only be water.

Eventually, the car slows to a cruise and Cece immediately perks up. When the car stops completely, the Uber driver casually remains inside, eyes fixed ahead of him.

Litha widens his eyes and pops the car door open. “Guess we’ll help ourselves,” he mutters under his breath.

He exits and Cece follows suit as they round the car. With the boot already unlocked, Litha heaves it open, lugging out their luggage one by one. After emptying the trunk, Litha slams the boot close and merely seconds later. The engine grumbles and the vehicle rolls away until it’s nothing but a speck on the horizon.

Standing on the sun-beaten asphalt, taking it all in. Over fifteen yards forward, down a slight decline is a paved way that leads down to a detached one-door garage that stands beside a homey wooden cabin settled on the brink. The rear is a vast swath of water, a part of the lake as their backyard with a narrow pier that elongates gracefully into the shimmering body of water. Cece draws her gaze back to the cabin and the single oak door opens.

An elderly couple shuffles out, their skins a deep sepia like the color that bathes a forest floor under golden sunlight. The only betrayal of age is not weathered skin or slouched backs, but their sterling silver hair.

Cece straps her handbag over her shoulder readily. Aligned with her hip, she takes the handle of the large suitcase and together they trudge down the slope. Litha drags the others behind him as they both respectfully follow the cobblestone pathway, avoiding the evergreen grass on either side like it’s lava.

Closer on approach, their grandmother clasps her hands together, squealing, juddering excitedly on one spot. Their grandfather opens his arms in a grand welcome. In one big engulf, they envelope their grandkids in a wholesome embrace.

Gradually breaking apart, Litha steps back to give him a full body scan with a stunned look. “That’s quite a grip, old man.”

“Old man?” His orotund voice is raspy, grated by time but still maintains its strength and vigor. “As if you can talk beanpole.”

Gramps charges forward and effortlessly throws Litha over his shoulder, knocking his suitcase to the ground.

“Walter!” she yells reproachfully. “Careful with the boy.”

Gramps continues to jog ahead of them in mindless circles on the grass. Litha’s lithe frame squirms over his shoulder, laughing uncontrollably.

Cece looks back at her, a mirrored image of their mother. “Hi grandma.”

Her gran takes a moment to soak in her granddaughter’s resplendent features, her honeyed shea butter skin that flatters her golden-flecked hazel eyes. Gran’s face contorts into a merry sob and she reels her into a bone-crushing hug.

“You have grown to be such a beautiful young woman.” She holds back a cry with held-in tears. “Aren’t you fortunate to have my genes,” she says and gives her an extra squeeze.

They part and her gran shoots a punch at her shoulder.

Cece gawks at her, jaw hanging. “Grandma!”

“No, no, don’t grandma me.” Fists on her hips, her weight shifts to one side. “I have not seen my grandbabies in ten years. I practically had to force your mother to book them international flights to get you two here. Now look.” She gestures to her expansively. “You two are all grown up.”

Cece pouts apologetically, shrugging helplessly. “I know and I’m sorry… but at least we’re here now.” That’s got to count for something.

Litha finally escapes gramps’s siege. He walks up to her briskly, stopping before her with a toothy smile.

Gran looks at him from head to toe with an impish smile. “Clearly your mama has a favorite because it looks like she don’t feed you.”

Cece snorts and stifles a laugh with her fist, watching Litha inspect himself in pure offense.

“Just because I practice self-care and actually work out—” he shoots Cece a pointed look, “—unlike others I know. It doesn’t make me underweight.”

“Who am I kidding?” gran says, her smile an immeasurable length. “There’s no doubt. By the look of you, I can see you is most definitely a heartbreaker.”

Litha flaunts a knee-weak worthy smile. “Well.” His hand sweeps over his fresh uniform buzz cut with tapered edges. He looks over at Cece and winks, and her eyes nearly roll out of its sockets.

“We should take a picture,” gramps says, pulling out a sleek black phone from his brown trouser pocket. He then holds it in front of his face at a peculiar slant. Deliberating with himself, whether he should take the photo landscape or portrait.

“So that everyone’s in the photo, let’s rather take a selfie,” Cece suggests.

A groan rumbles in Litha’s chest, swallowing a protest.

Gramps nods assertively, walking to them as everyone huddles up together for a group shot with the house as their backdrop. He holds up the phone with only their heads cut in the frame, so close that they all look like bobbleheads.

Cece cringes and moves forward to swipe the phone from his hand.

Briefly admiring his new-looking phone, she says, “For old folks who seem to be clued up with technology, you sure don’t know how to use it.”

“As most old people,” Litha slips in, earning him a light jab to the ribs.

Cece extends her arm, capturing an optimal angle with everyone fully captured, natural light pouring down on them perfectly.

“Smiiile.”

After a short series of taps and minor expression changes, all of which are filled with bright eyes and stretched smiles. Cece hands him back his phone and gran finally guides them inside the house

Walking in single file, Cece’s eyes wander around the rustic and cozy interior. The floor to ceiling glass window beside the sliding door welcomes in a wealth of warm light that emblazons the living room with a delicate glow. The lounge bears beige English rolled arm couches; tight back with large and plush seat cushions. Completed with an elaborate plasma TV stand in the corner. All the color-matched fixtures complement the glazed walnut wooden tiles.

A wide path is interspaced between the four-seater, dark Bordeaux dining table and the living room. A few steps further on, an oak laminate countertop kitchen is tucked away in a round crook. And in the short distance, a string of hooked keys are embedded in the wall beside an archway, and inside the shadowy passage, it houses three closed doors.

“Wow.” She looks up at the light metal pendant with geometrical lights that hang from the ceiling. “I guess a lot has changed.”

Gran smiles, thoughtlessly pulling the thin material of her cardigan to wrap it around her torso, arms folding over her chest. “Your gramps and I had the house redone a few years back. You would know if you ever visited.”

Litha snickers. “I have a feeling she’s not gonna let that go for a while.”

“Smart and handsome, quite a package you are.” She quickly pinches his cheek, rotating to make her way to the kitchen. “You two will be sharing a room. So settle in and I’ll prepare lunch. I’m sure you’re starving, forced to eat tin-canned airplane food. My poor babies.”

Litha and Cece pickup their luggage, rolling it with them as they walk to the passageway slowly.

“First door on your left,” gramps directs.

Continuing, Litha flashes a thumbs-up to the ceiling. They arrive at the room and Cece pushes the door open, entering with a bewildered grin. Her eyes bounce from left to right at the single beds on either side, both of them pressed against the walls with twin cream duvets layered on top. Narrow wooden closets are positioned on either flank of the door.

Cece steps inside, ankle boots clicking on the furnished floorboards. She swivels and looks up at Litha with a quizzical expression. “So, which one do you want?”

Litha grumbles a sequence of incoherent words. He moves to park his luggage at the foot of the bed on the right. Wordlessly, he walks around and collapses on the bed, shifting irritably for a while until he faces the wall with his back towards her.

“I guess that jetlag is starting to hit, little bro.”