Firefly Rain by Richard Dansky

conclusions anyway. I’d been indignant on her behalf. Jenna had just laughed and said that one of us should take it as a compliment, though she wouldn’t say which one.
    That was her great gift to me, you see. It wasn’t that she was whip smart and good looking to boot; she could always make me laugh. Come to think of it, it was a good thing she’d left my firm. A few more weeks of her working on me at the office and I might have regained interest. Lord knows what that might have produced.
    “You haven’t answered my question,” I reminded her when the laughter died down. “Believe it or not, I am interested.”
    “I thought you might be,” she said, and paused. “I’m fine, really. Same old, same old. However, I’m guessing the reason you called is that you’re not so fine. What’s the matter? Miss the big bad city already?”
    “A trifle,” I admitted. “But not enough to give it another shot right now. I think I’m going to be staying here for a while.”
    “A while,” she said, and there was doubt in her voice. “Define ‘a while’ for me.”
    “Well,” I said, stretching the sound out. “At least until I find out what happened to my car.”
    Her voice rose to a near screech. “Your car? Someone stole your car? I didn’t think they were allowed to do that in Winston-Durham, or wherever you are.”
    “Maryfield,” I corrected her, a little more sharply than I’d thought I was going to. “Northwest of Winston-Salem. And yes, they steal cars here, too. That’s not why I’m calling, though.”
    “Well, good. There’s not much I can do about it from here.”
    I grinned again despite myself. “I trust you to work miracles, Jenna. Speaking of which, I’m going to try for one here. How would you feel about taking some time off to experience the simple life? Country breakfasts, nature at its finest, and lousy cell phone reception—what more could you ask for?”
    She hmmed. “An explanation, for one thing. You wanted to get away from everything up here, remember? So why invite me down?”
    “Because I miss your sparkling conversation, and your one-hundred-percent-accurate bullshit detector. How’s that?”
    “Closer,” she admitted, “but still not quite good enough. My time’s valuable, Logan. Out with it.”
    I shrugged, though I knew she couldn’t see me do so. “I need someone,” I said. “I need someone down here whom I can trust, and who will tell me if I’ve been sniffing too much fresh air and seeing things as a result. I’m spooked, Jenna, spooked bad, and I need someone to watch my back until I get my head screwed back on straight.”
    There was silence on the other end of the line. For a moment, I was afraid she’d hung up. Then, softer, I heard her voice, all the wisecrack drained out of it. “You’re talking like a native again. That’s spooking
me
, Logan. What the hell is going on?”
    So I told her. I told her about Carl and the missing car and my run-in with Maryfield’s finest. She sputtered like a half-openedfire hydrant when I told her that bit, and threatened to send a good lawyer down to me instead.
    She stopped sputtering when I told her about the fireflies and the soldiers. But Mother and Father’s bed? I didn’t tell her about that. There’d be a time and a place for that, if it came to it, but the secrets of my parents’ marriage bed weren’t for sharing. At least, not yet.
    “So,” she said when I finally finished. “Either you’ve gone completely off your rocker or spooked is an understatement.”
    “I won’t venture a guess,” I replied. “All I know is that only a fool doesn’t ask for help when he sees a problem too big for him, and right now this is looking too big for me. I’m alone, I’m isolated, and I don’t know the lay of the land anymore. And that’s leaving out all the spooky stuff. Hell, I’ll take on a million fireflies acting weird and lock the tin soldiers in the attic and be just fine if I can get the human