As Fast as Lightning

ONE


Raindrops collected on the windowpane as thunder roared in the distance. A dark-haired seventeen-year-old boy looked out at the brewing storm, his hazel eyes scanning over the pastures of his father’s Montana ranch. Lightning struck in the distant mountains and the lights flickered, causing him to jump.

His mother sat down next to him and, stroking his hair, said:

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little rain.”

The words echoed in his mind like a broken record as the scenes of his memory flashed before his eyes.

“Come on, little brother!” scolded Rebecca, a beautiful blonde-haired, blue-eyed fifteen-year-old. Her ten-year-old brother just wasn’t keeping up, “I hope you don’t plan on becoming a jockey!”

“No,” grinned the boy, “A jockey? Never!” he kicked his horse so that he might speed up.

Once caught up to his sister, he surveyed the sky worriedly.

“Looks like a storm’s coming,” announced the boy.

“Let’s have one more race before it gets too bad,” grinned Rebecca, pointing to a rock ahead, “From here to the boulder and back. On your mark, get set, go!”

Her horse flew at the speed of sound to the boulder. Back she came, and then realized her opponent hadn’t moved.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him.

“It’s starting to rain,” he answered shortly.

“Oh, come on!” grinned his sister, “It’s just a little rain!”

The boy smiled and nodded. He yelled: “On your mark, get set, go!”

Thunder roared as Rebecca took off and his horse reared up. Lightning struck so close that it made everything shake violently. It struck again, hitting a tree next to Rebecca’s horse. The tree fell, the horse flailed wildly, and Rebecca screamed as her world turned to black.

“Mark! Mark Frasier!”

“Oh, yeah,” he opened his eyes, which had been most tightly shut, “Sorry, mom.”

“It’s time to eat,” she placed three plates on the table and took her seat as her husband, Eric, sat down next to her.

Mark took his seat across from his father and stared the end of the table where an empty chair stood. It had been empty for seven years.

“Mark, you have to eat,” said his mother, Lori.

“I’m sorry, mom, I really am, but storms make me think of Rebecca.”

“Son, it’s been seven years since your sister passed away,” said Eric firmly, “It’s time you moved on.”

“She never got the chance to find a wild horse,” Mark grinned, “She always joked that she would. It would’ve have been great if she really could have.”

“Boy,” yelled Eric, “What I wouldn’t give for you to forget about that horse!”

“Eric!” scolded Lori, “No yelling at the table!”

“It’s my table,” argued Eric.

“I’ll bet she could have found a wild horse, too,” smiled Mark, staring harder at the chair, “It would’ve been amazing to see her riding…”

“Well, that’s never going to happen, Mark,” interrupted his father, “so you better get that out of your head.”

With that, his father stood up and stormed in the den, angrily muttering to himself.

“He hasn’t been the same since Rebecca died,” sighed Mark.

“Well,” Lori stood up and took Eric’s plate to the sink, “You haven’t either.”


TWO

“So, who do you plan on taking to the formal?”

“What?” Mark had been daydreaming again, “Say that again?”

“Are you going to take anyone to the formal next week?” asked his best friend, Parker.

Mark stared down at his lunch as he though about the school event. He finally replied:

“I’ll probably ask Jamie.”

“Mark, you need to get a real date,” grinned Parker as his twin sister, Jamie, set her tray down on the table next to Mark’s, “You can’t take Jamie to every event you go to!”

“What?” Jamie was confused.

“Mark wants you to go with him to the formal next Friday,” said Parker, taking a huge bite out of his sandwich.

“Really?” Jamie ran her fingers through her curly blonde hair, “Sure, I’d love to. I mean, no one else has asked me.”

“I wonder why,” Parker rolled his eyes at Mark.

“Oh, Parker!” scolded Jamie.

“Oh, Jamie!” Parker mimicked.

“Both of you stop it!” commanded Mark, getting a little agitated.

“Okay, listen you two,” Parker leaned forward as he spoke to them, “It’s so out-dated to bring your best friend to a formal. I mean, no one has done that since like, 1889 or something!”

“Yeah, of course not,” Mark gave Parker a look, then said: “So who do you suggest I ask to the dance?”

“Jamie’s friend Allison.”

“Best friend,” corrected Jamie.

“Who’s Allison?” wondered Mark.

“That girl that sits next to you in English,” Parker paused to take a sip of his soda, “and the one who threw you a surprise fifteenth birthday party at Bible study that one Wednesday night.”

“She did?” Mark wasn’t remembering the event too well.

“There she is,” cried Jamie, pointing to one table where a small group of girls sat, “Go on, Jake, talk to her. I don’t care.”

“No,” Mark refused to her turn his head.

“Hey, Allison,” yelled Parker, “Get over here!”

Mark looked at Parker angrily.

“Hi, Parker,” she smiled as she walked to the table. Her long brown hair was straight and shiny and her hazel eyes sparkled when she smiled, “What’s up?”

“Mark has something to ask you,” grinned Jamie.

“Really?” laughed Allison.

“Um, no,” Mark ’s voice trailed off. He didn’t even dare to look at her.

“Is there something intimidating about me, Mark?” grinned Allison, “I mean, you won’t even look at me!”

“I don’t know...” stuttered Mark, still staring hard at his lunch tray.

“You always seem really sad, too,” said Allison softly, “What’s wrong?”

“My sister died seven years ago,” he whispered, not noticing Parker and Jamie quietly slipping away.

“What was she like?” wondered Allison.

Mark smiled and said: “She was beautiful. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. She loved horses. She always joked that one day, she’d find a wild mustang and train it,” he laughed a bit, “But she never got the chance.”

“Did she have a horse?”

“Yes, she did,” he sighed, “She died because she fell from it and hit her head on a huge rock. She wasn’t wearing a helmet. There was a lot of brain damage and the doctors couldn’t save her. We were out on our favorite trail when it happened. I haven’t been able to ride that trail since.”

There was a short silence until the bell rang.

“I have to get to class,” Allison told him, “I’ll talk to you again some time.”

Mark couldn’t move. He couldn’t believe he’s just told so much to a girl he barely knew. He realized he hadn’t even looked at her. There was just something in her voice. Something that made him feel like all she wanted to do was help.

Rushing to class, Mark kept replaying the scene of Rebecca’s death in his mind. He knew he could never love someone as much as he loved her. How did such a bad thing have to happen? He’d done nothing to deserved losing his sister, and Rebecca herself didn’t deserve to die. Nothing had been the same since that day, and Mark knew it never would be.

Driving home in his old car, Mark looked out over the small town he lived in. Hardly a hot tourist stop, it contained almost nothing of any interest, just a couple of shopping centers, a few resturaunts, and an old ice cream parlor. There was also a park, a church, a public library, and three schools. Mark took one look at the park and looked quickly away. Rebecca loved that park.

“Here I go again!” he scolded himself, “Everything reminds me of her!”

Once home, he walked inside the ranch house and heard piano music. On the kitchen table was his mother’s Bible, open to the Psalms. He walked into the living room where the antique upright stood. His mother sat on the bench, playing.

“What are you doing, mom?” he asked softly.

“Just playing some old hymns,” she smiled weakly, “I wish you would start playing again.”

“It makes me think of Becca too much,” he sighed, “Mom, why is it not hard for you to go on without her?”

“It is hard, Mark,” she looked up at her son as a wisp of her blonde hair fell around her tired face, “Prayer is usually what gets me through, and faith.”

“Why can’t I have faith?” asked Jake .

“Just pray for it,” Lori smiled, “Something I’ve been trying to get your father to do for years.”

“What’s he doing tomorrow?” wondered Mark.

“Nothing important,” replied Lori, “Why?”

“I’d like to go out on the trail and talk to him a little,” he said, “I haven’t been able to talk to in a long time.”

“Sure, I’ll tell him,” agreed Lori. She looked at her son and asked: “What are you daydreaming about now?”

“Is it possible to…I mean, to fall…I mean,” Mark couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Um, I don’t follow,” poor Lori was confused.

“There’s this girl at school that Parker wants me to take to the formal. Today she talked to me and, even though we’ve never spoken before, I told her all about Becca.”

“Why?”

“She asked why I always seem so sad,” Mark replied, “and she sounded so…concerned. I didn’t think, I just talked.”

“You’re funny,” giggled Lori as she stood up to leave for the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he sighed as he looked at the piano. Sitting at the bench, he played a few notes, but sharply drew back.

“I can’t do it,” he sighed, “I guess I never will again.”