Chapter 5 Ember
EMBER
Sunday morning startled me awake with the stomping of feet on the steps and the distant sound of someone's alarm blaring through the thin walls in my apartment.
I lay in bed for a moment, staring at the ceiling, trying to get my bearings.
I slept through my alarm, but thankfully, it wasn't a work day.
And though it was my day off, I noticed three missed messages from Dr. Bradley this morning, choosing to ignore them.
I finally dragged myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water ease the tension in my shoulders.
Today was the community decorating day—all the tenants had agreed to chip in and clean up the building. I'd volunteered weeks ago, before I got this job or any of this Hearthkeeper stuff cluttered my head space.
Now everything felt complicated.
I dressed in old jean shorts and a faded T-shirt, pulled my hair into a ponytail, and grabbed the box of cleaning supplies I'd picked up from the dollar store last week.
The building was noisy, which meant they'd likely already gotten started without my spray cleaner and sponges, but I figured it was better late than never, right?
My phone buzzed again as I headed for the door, so I glanced at the screen to see another message from my boss.
Nate: 8:23 AM: Good morning. Hope you slept well.
Any other time, I would think it was a sweet gesture, and Amelia would agree.
But given how awkward the circumstances were, I didn’t know what to think.
I shoved the phone into my back pocket without responding and carried the box down the narrow stairwell to the first floor.
The laundry room was already bustling with activity when I arrived.
Four other tenants had gathered, all wearing various levels of enthusiasm.
Someone had brought a portable speaker that was playing classic rock, and the air smelled faintly of pine-scented cleaner.
Clara, one of tenants from the floor above mine, stood near the folding table in the corner, sorting through a box of doorknobs.
She was in her seventies, with white hair that she kept in a neat bun and a habit of wearing cardigans even in summer.
She'd been the first person to introduce herself when I moved in, bringing me a plate of cookies and asking if I needed help unpacking.
"Ember! There you are." She waved me over, her face brightening. "I was hoping you'd make it. We're just getting started."
I set my box on the table and began unpacking the supplies. "Sorry I'm a little late. Slept through my alarm."
"No apology needed, dear. We're all moving at a relaxed pace this morning."
She set the box aside and reached for a feather duster before turning to me. "How are you settling in? It's been a few weeks now, hasn't it?"
"Almost two months," I said, ripping the plastic off the sponges. "It's been good. Quiet."
"That's the best thing about this building. We’re all nice and quiet.
None of that loud partying you get in some of the newer complexes.
" She nodded at the doorway and grabbed a bottle of spray cleaner, so I followed her with my sponges.
"There we go. I swear you can never keep doors and doorjambs clean. "
I smiled and took the bottle of cleaner from her as she dusted around the door trim and jamb and followed behind her with a spritz of cleaner.
Another tenant—a middle-aged man whose name I could never remember—was tightening screws on the door knobs.
Two younger women were changing light bulbs along the hallway ceiling, standing on stepladders and arguing good-naturedly about smoke detector batteries.
Clara glanced at me while swiping her feather duster along some cobwebs. "I saw you on the news yesterday. You and Dr. Bradley at the candle lighting. It looked lovely."
My hands trembled a little as I wiped with the sponge to remove the dirt from the trim. "You watched the news?"
"Of course! The Lightkeeper ceremony is always big news around here. And to have someone from our own building chosen as Hearthkeeper? Well, that's exciting."
She turned and shook her duster, and particles burst into the air around me, almost making me sneeze. "We're all very proud of you, Ember."
I forced a smile and went back to washing the dirt off the doorjamb. "Thank you. It's been a lot to take in."
"I imagine so. It's quite an honor." With her duster cleaned, she returned to swiping at cobwebs and dust bunnies. "Are you doing all right with everything? You look a bit tired."
I hesitated, unsure how much to share.
Clara had been nothing but kind since I'd moved in, but we weren't close.
I didn't know her well enough to unload the full weight of what I was feeling.
But she was looking at me with genuine concern, and I was blurting everything out before I could stop myself.
"It's just a lot of responsibility," I admitted. "And pressure. The media attention is pretty intense."
Clara nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I suppose it would be. You're in the public eye now, representing the community."
"Exactly." I felt a rush of relief that she understood. "I didn't sign up for this. It all happened so fast, and now I'm committed to months of appearances and interviews and cameras everywhere."
"The cameras bother you?" she asked gently. She stopped dusting and leaned on the wall watching me work.
I swallowed hard but kept working so I didn't start shaking too badly. "I'm just not comfortable being the center of attention."
She studied me for a moment, then tucked the duster under her arm and folded her hands in front of herself. "You know, the Hearthkeeper tradition has an interesting history. It didn't always exist."
I looked up. "It didn't?"
"No. Back in the sixties, during the women's rights movement, the Lightkeeper ceremony was exclusively male.
The chosen man would stand on that stage alone, representing leadership and vision and all those grand ideals.
But the women in the community felt excluded.
They argued that light without warmth is cold and useless.
That leadership without heart is empty."
I found myself leaning forward, drawn into her story.
I had no idea other people actually took this as seriously as Dr. Bradley was.
To me it seemed as silly as a beauty pageant or house decorating contest.
"So they demanded equality," Clara continued.
"They fought for the creation of the Hearthkeeper role, insisting that women deserved equal recognition and equal honor.
It was a big deal at the time. Some people resisted, said it was tampering with tradition.
But the women won. And now, every year, the Lightkeeper and Hearthkeeper stand together as equals. "
She smiled warmly like she was remembering a scene from her own life. I wondered if Clara ever wanted to be the Hearthkeeper or if she'd ever had a shot to do so.
"When you stand beside Dr. Bradley, you're not just fulfilling a ceremonial role, Ember. You're representing every woman who fought for that position. You're showing the community that women's voices matter. That our contributions are essential, not optional."
I didn’t want to admit it, but she might have been right.
I'd been so focused on my own discomfort, on the cameras and the exposure and the fear of being recognized, that I hadn't considered what the role actually meant.
To Clara and to the women who'd fought for its creation, being Hearthkeeper was a genuine honor.
"I never thought about it that way," I said quietly.
"Most people don't." Clara smiled and handed me the duster. "But you should be proud, dear. You're making a difference just by being there."
I slid the handle of the duster into my back pocket and sighed as Clara turned to nitpick at the man fixing doorknobs.
Maybe I'd been too hasty or harsh.
Dr. Bradley hadn't known about the Hearthkeeper crisis when he'd pointed at me on that stage.
He'd been desperate, cornered, and I'd been the only option available.
And yes, he'd dragged me into a situation I never wanted, but he'd also apologized.
He'd promised to find a way out for me if I needed it.
And then we'd had sex on my desk.
My God, what had I done?
My face heated at the memory.
That part definitely hadn't been forced.
That had been mutual and intense and completely my choice.
"Are you blushing?" Clara asked, amused. I didn't realize she'd turned back around.
"No. Just warm." I sprayed more cleaner on the already clean doorjamb and kept scrubbing to keep my hands busy, and she clicked her tongue. "What else needs cleaned?" I asked, and she pointed toward the hallway.
"All of these doors," she said, eyeing me, but she let it go and walked away.
I swallowed my shame and moved down the hallway where the two younger women had finished with the lightbulbs.
They greeted me cheerfully and went back to the laundry room for more supplies.
I stood on one of the abandoned stepladders and began spraying down the next doorway, then wiped the dripping cleaner down with the sponge.
The repetitive motion was soothing.
I worked my way down the hallway, losing myself in the task.
My phone buzzed twice more in my pocket, but I ignored it.
By the time I reached the fourth doorway, the man whose name I couldn't remember had wheeled a small television into the hallway.
He positioned it on a rolling cart near the laundry room entrance and plugged it in.
"Thought we could use some entertainment while we work," he announced. "Hope nobody minds."
Clara called out her approval from inside the laundry room.
One of the younger women asked him to turn up the volume.
I continued washing doors and trim, only half paying attention to the television.
The local news was on.
A cheerful anchor was discussing upcoming community events and the latest town happenings.
It was white noise to me as I scrubbed until I heard something that made me feel a bit of panic welling up inside.