Title:
The Fire Inside
Author: Michelle Bellon
Publisher: Booktrope
Pages: 206
Genre: New Age Fiction
Author: Michelle Bellon
Publisher: Booktrope
Pages: 206
Genre: New Age Fiction
Aiden, a doting husband and father, had
the perfect life - a job he loved, a beautiful son, and a loving wife. In an
instant, everything is taken from him and Aiden believes his life is over.
Falling into a deep depression Aiden all but gives up on his job, his friends
and himself. But when a mysterious force grants him the power to heal those
around him, Aiden is forced to pull himself out of his misery in favor of the
greater good. When he meets Ryan, a hardened, pessimistic teenager living on
the streets, and Norma, a woman whose marriage is crumbling around her, Aiden
acknowledges that maybe life still has a purpose and this ability to heal may
be more powerful than he ever imagined.
For More Information
- The Fire Inside is available at Amazon.
- Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.
- Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.
I really enjoyed this unique book.I have never read anything from this author before, so I was not really sure what to expect. Honestly, I looked at the cover, the title and the little excerpt and thought it sounded and looked fascinating so I thought I would give it a try. First off the story is told by the three different and unique main characters, alternating between their first person accounts in each chapter. This book has so many different elements running through it from dealing with trauma, suicidal ideations, depression, healing, feelings of abandonment and the damage that comes from tragedies. What really set this book apart though were the underlying tones of hope, healing, love, forgiveness, sacrifice and redemption from the characters.Although at times the plot was predictable, it did not take away from the story line and the characters. I personally enjoyed this book. It was a quick read, but one that filled your spirit with a bit more optimism in the human race.
Enjoy a Book Excerpt:
I rolled out of bed at exactly 6:42 a.m., three
minutes before my alarm was due to buzz. Well, an alarm went off, but not the
one on my nightstand. Our plump two-and-a-half-year-old barreled into our
bedroom, arms outstretched and making loud airplane sounds. Spittle flew out of
his bowed little mouth. “Wook Daddy, I’m an aowpwane!”
After a split second, though still groggy, I
transitioned from the dream world. Reluctant to start the day, I groaned a
complaint. How anyone could be so full of energy that early in the morning
stretched beyond my comprehension. I envied the child’s endless reserve and
forced my eyes open, trying to focus.
I scooped my airplane son into my arms and out of
the room so his mommy could catch another half hour of rest.
I sneaked one quick glance before shuffling out,
smiling at the way Tess gave herself so fully to the retreat of sleep, her
mouth slightly open and her caramel-colored skin warm against our crisp white
sheets. My skin, tinged slightly darker, had a mahogany hue that Anthony
inherited. Both Tess and I come from parents of mixed ethnicity—my father
Caucasian, my mother African-American, Tess’s parents the exact opposite. This
bestowed us with rich, smooth skin and curly hair which I kept cut short to the
scalp. She wore her mane long and thick, blessed to have a relaxed curl.
Those locks spread about her face in disarray. I
curbed the desire to slip back under the covers next to her. She needed and
deserved the rest. A whirlwind of nonstop activity, Tess filled every waking
hour with countless daily errands and tasks with a smile on her face. She
seemed to do the work of three people. Not because she was obligated to. She
loved to be busy, her bubbly personality and enthusiasm infectious, so that one
often found themselves offering to help her with chores they normally wouldn’t
be inclined to do, just because they wanted to be with her.
There one would be, laughing until their eyes
leaked and feeling as if they were having the time of their life, and then
suddenly they would look down and realize they were soaked up to their elbows
in sudsy dishwater. They’d think, “Now, how in the hell did this happen? I
don’t remember offering to do the dishes.” But then they’d remember, “Oh yeah.”
Somewhere in between listening to Tess do a play by play of her version of
watching the two feuding elderly ladies just two houses down and her
description of Anthony’s recent disgusting discovery of the toilet brush, they
absolutely had offered to do those dang dishes!
Meanwhile, Tess would flit about the kitchen,
multi-tasking three different activities and tapping into her infamous ability
to tell stories. She wouldn’t just say, “I went to the store today and got
milk.” No. She would weave an intricate tale out of even the most mundane of
events. “So there I was with my bum hanging out as I reached into the
refrigerated section,” Tess would explain. “The last gallon of two percent milk
was so far back that I had to practically crawl into the freezer. I’m reaching.
I’m getting cold. And I hear a child’s voice from behind, ‘Dadda, why is that
lady crawling in there?’ Well I knew instantly this child was talking about me.
I grabbed the milk, but when I went to stand up, I banged my head. Then Anthony
dropped his toy. Now Anthony is crying, my head hurts, I’m freezing and I’m
being sized up by a curious four year old and his dad.”
On would go her story. Everything she did required
an inhuman amount of energy. She did it without breaking a sweat or losing her
smile.
However, in the oblivion of sleep, her entire
being seemed to take one long sigh. All of that energy expended finally caught
up with her the moment her head touched the pillow.
I pulled the door closed and stepped out into the
hall. Anthony wriggled in my arms. “Shh, we’re going downstairs while Mommy
sleeps.”
Downstairs in our sunken living room, after
reading Clifford’s Big Day twice, I denied Anthony a third round. I
needed to start breakfast if I wanted to be at work on time. This denial set
off a bout of whining. His pouty lip tested my resolve, but I held strong,
ruffled his soft curls, and plopped him onto the couch.
“Just look at the pictures, Sonny Boy, while Daddy
makes you some oatmeal.”
Tess entered the kitchen as if floating on a brisk
breeze. “Don’t worry about it, babe, I’m on it! You go on ahead and hit the
shower.”
I wrapped my arms around my curvy wife and pulled
her in, enjoying the way our bodies fit, like a puzzle.
“Mommy,” Anthony shouted, then shoved his stout
little body off of the couch. He quickly toddled up and squeezed his way
between our legs.
Another integral piece to the puzzle.
Leaning in, I whispered into Tess’s ear, knowing
my breath would tickle. She giggled and simultaneously pulled me closer.
“How about you hop into the shower with me?” I
asked.
She tucked her head in and flashed me that teasing
smile. “Mmm, you know I would love to, but one thing would lead to another and
then you’d be late for work, babe.”
I wanted to keep the flirtatious dialogue going
and nuzzled in further. Anthony, still squeezed in between our legs, piped up.
“Late for work, babe,” he repeated after his mother. We both laughed. Our
little boy listened more than we’d imagined. Still reluctant to break contact,
I kept Tess firmly in my grasp. “What do you have planned for the day?”
“Well, I have a few errands this morning. I need
to grab some things for dinner. The main agenda item for the day is to swing by
that new preschool. I want to check it out and decide if it’s the right place
for Anthony. If so, then we need to get on the list before it’s too late.”
I noticed only the slightest bit of apprehension
in her eyes as she glanced down and ruffled Anthony’s glossy curls. We had
decided that she would go back to work part-time as a special education
teacher, and although I knew it was what she wanted, the decision still weighed
heavily on her. She’d been a stay-at-home mother from the moment we welcomed
him into the world. The idea of not being around for every milestone, each new
discovery, was tough for her to swallow.
“Tess, you really don’t have to do this yet. We
can go another year. We can tap into our savings if things get too tight. It’s
not like we’re strapped financially.”
She shook her head. “No. I want to go back.
Really. It’s just going to be a little hard at first. I don’t want him to ever
think I won’t be there for him.”
“Well, he won’t, because you always are. Besides
he’s ready for social interaction with other children his age. And you’re going
to be part-time, so it will be perfect for the both of you. I don’t want you
worrying over this. Now come on up to the shower with me,” I said, nibbling on
her neck, wanting to distract her.
“Ouch!” I yipped and pulled back laughing, my
brows furrowed. “Why’d you pinch me?”
“Because you’re nothing but trouble and you are
going to be late for work. Now go on while I get breakfast started.” She stood
smiling with a devious look, daring me to take our teasing to the next level.
Though tempted, I knew she was right. The morning was moving along rapidly and
I had work to do.
Anthony tried to climb my legs, tugging on my
plaid pajama pants. I snatched him up and tossed him into the air before
plopping him back down. “Daddy’s going to get showered. You listen to your momma
and be a good boy.”
Anthony gave a wide grin, nodded his head, and ran
off in search of his next adventure. I leaned over and gave Tess one last kiss
before she pulled out a stainless steel pan. “You just wait until tonight. I
have plans for you,” I teased before stomping my way back up the stairs.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like my job. I usually
just had a few minutes each morning where I dreaded the routine.
As an accountant for a well-established law firm
located in downtown Chicago, I was well aware that my job was less than
thrilling to a majority of people. Most of my friends would rather have a tooth
drilled without Novocain than do my job.
I found contentment in the endless pursuit of
balancing a budget for a successful and growing company. It was geeky. But I
didn’t care. I’m kind of a geek by nature. I’ve never denied it. I always liked
the simplicity of the language of math. It spoke to my left brain. It made the
chaos of the world seem not so senseless.
The fact that my wife, Tess, loved and appreciated
my math skills because of her lack of them only fueled my passion that much
further. She claimed it was sexy. I seriously doubted it but figured, if that’s
what made her tick, then so be it.
So, I set off to work ready to tackle another day
of monotony. I sat in my office chair and fired up the computer. Hopefully, I
thought, it would go by fast and then I could head home and finish my earlier
conversation with Tess. Maybe even get lucky.
An hour later the world fell out from under my
feet.
One minute I plucked away at the computer; the
next I absentmindedly reached for the phone as it broke my concentration.
“This is Aiden.”
“Mr. Rollins?”
“Yes, Jean?”
“Umm, there are two police officers out here. They
would like to have a word with you. Should I send them up?”
My focus remained on the dusty computer screen.
“Uh, yes, yes. Go on ahead and send them up.”
Hearing their approach, I swiveled in the chair to
face the gentlemen who stood in the doorway. They looked far too serious. I
didn’t know why they were here but wanted to get on with it. Rising from my
chair, I jutted out a hand. “Hello, come on in. Would you like to have a seat?”
The older looking of the two spoke up. “No, thank
you. I’m Officer Williams and this is my partner, Officer Jefferson. You are
Aiden Rollins, is that correct?”
“That’s right. How can I help you today,
officers?”
Facial expression stoic, Officer Williams spoke.
“Mr. Rollins, is there somewhere more private that we can speak?”
My brow furrowed. “Uh, no, not really. This is
about as private as it’s gonna get. This is my office. Feel free to say what
you came to say.” I paused, looking them up and down. “I’m sorry, what was this
about, again?”
He straightened his spine then turned to shut the
door behind him. As he faced me, he clasped his hands together in front of his
waist. “I’m so sorry to have to be the one to deliver this news, but … there
was an accident … a car accident, this morning. Your wife and son were
involved.” He paused, his body stiff. “Sir, your wife and son did not survive
the accident. I’m so sorry.”
My mind clicked off. Unable to focus, I plopped
back down into the chair.
About the Author
Michelle Bellon lives in the
Pacific Northwest with her four children and boyfriend, Seth. She loves coffee
and has an addiction to chapstick.
She works at a surgery center
as a registered nurse and in her spare time writes novels. She writes in the
genres of romance suspense, young adult, women’s fiction, and literary fiction.
She has won four literary awards to include making finalist in the New Age
category in the USA Book Awards for her latest release, The
Fire Inside.
For
More Information
Comments