Forged by Fire Read Online Free PDF Page A

day. Besides, I need you out there.”
    â€œOkay,” sighed Gerald. “I’ll be out in a minute—but I’m comin’ ’cause of
you,
not for her.”
    Five minutes later, in clean T-shirt and jeans, Geraldwalked slowly to the kitchen. The smell of warm maple syrup would forever be blended in his mind with the events of that birthday morning. For a moment he stood in the doorway of the kitchen, unnoticed.
    He thought he had forgotten, but he would have known his mother anywhere. She didn’t look much different from the last time he saw her, when her high heels had clicked out of his life and left him alone. She was thin, the color of coffee and cream, with her hair done in fresh finger curls. She wore a red dress—somehow he knew that she’d have on red—that was tightened at the waistline with a shiny gold belt. She was laughing. Unwillingly, he remembered how he used to love her laugh. For a long time it had echoed in his mind like musical memory, and suddenly the song was loud and bright and painful once more.
    Standing next to his mother was a tall, chocolate brown man who was looking out of the kitchen window, paying no attention to the nervous conversation or the rich breakfast smells about him. He had hard, muscled shoulders under a tight white T-shirt and crisp blue jeans, and rather than the big brown work shoes worn by most of the men Gerald knew, this man had on shiny black cowboy boots with pointed toes and fancy stitching on the leather. He took a cigarette from the pack in his shirt pocket and had it halfway to his lips when Aunt Queen spoke.
    â€œIf you’re gonna put fire on the end of that death stick you stuffin’ in your mouth, you can do it on the porch.There will be no smoking in my house, young man.” He turned, opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead merely gave Aunt Queen a hard look as he put the cigarette back.
    Just then, Gerald’s mother, Monique, the man with the cowboy boots, and Aunt Queen all seemed to notice Gerald at the same time. Monique inhaled sharply, put her hand to her mouth, and just stared at Gerald with wonder, fear, and admiration. Cowboy Boots had nothing to say, and Aunt Queen decided to let the moment happen by itself.
    â€œHi,” whispered a tiny voice from the largest kitchen chair. It was only then that Gerald noticed the little girl. She was sitting cross-legged in the chair and evidently had been watching him as he observed the scene in the kitchen. Gerald thought she looked like one of those glass dolls that shatter when you drop them. She was the color of pale caramel, with skin thin and waxy stretched over long, delicate bones. She had on a long-sleeved dress that was too big for her and, even though it was hot, long black tights. But it was her eyes that made Gerald stare. They seemed to fill her small face. They were a soft hazel color, and they had seen many tears.
    â€œMy baby!” sighed Monique at last. “Can you come speak to your mama, son?”
    â€œHey, Mama,” said Gerald slowly. He didn’t know what else to say. So he just stood there, staring at his tennis shoes, wishing that it were yesterday, or even tomorrow.
    Monique tried to fill in the blank space between them.“Happy birthday, Gerald,” she said, smiling at him. “It’s been a long time. But I want you to know that you’ve always been in my heart. Always.”
    Gerald nodded uncomfortably. The pale little girl in the kitchen chair giggled.

    As if glad to have something to do, Monique picked up the child and, looking at Gerald as if for approval, said, “And this here is Angel, your sister.”
    â€œSister?”
exclaimed Gerald loudly. “Aunt Queen? What’s she talkin’ about? I ain’t got no sister! And who is this dude with the cowboy boots?”
    Aunt Queen, who had been silent, finally said, “Let’s all sit down to breakfast and we’ll go over the