Juliana’s throat felt like glass shattered inside it. Her head ached as she tried to sit up, but she couldn’t move. Heavy, dry wool smothered her face. She fought to get away from it, and rolled on the rocky ground into a body.
Lukas threw the hot, dry shawl off them and turned his head toward her. “See? It worked.” Sometime after she’d passed out, he must have soaked her shawl and covered them.
He looked past her at the entrance, spilling in sunshine, without raising his head off the ground. He croaked through parched lips, “We lived.”
She turned to follow his gaze. The blankets had burned off the posts, charred remains hung in tatters. Ed Pulaski lay nearest the exit. No sounds. Not even the heavy breathing of the horses. Was anyone alive besides them?
She sat up slowly, unable to hold back hacking coughs.
Lukas did also and, though coughing hard, moved to block her view of the horses. “Don’t look.” He put his hand up and curved his palm around her cheek. “Let’s see if there’s anyone we can help.”
Juliana’s lips trembled, but she nodded.
A few others stirred until most were making their way to the front.
Groggy, sick from the smoke inhalation, Lukas and Juliana joined the others who could move under their own power.
Lukas counted those that would never rise again. “Five men down, and the two horses.”
“Looks like Big Ed didn’t make it, either,” one of the firemen called back as he hunkered over Pulaski’s still body. “The boss is dead.”
“No, he’s not.” Ed Pulaski groaned and lifted onto his elbows. Most of his hair had been burned off and blisters covered his eyes. But he lifted his chin to savor the fresh air circulating through. “Might need some help getting home.”
A collective sigh sufficed as a cheer.
Lukas wrapped his arms around Juliana. “Let’s get going. We have a wedding to get to. You do plan to keep your promise?”
Juliana raised on tiptoe, touched his sooty cheek, and in a scratchy voice said, “I do.”
“I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride.” The preacher laughed with them over their torn, scraggly clothing. “Though I’ve never seen a couple in such condition. I’ll be glad to look back on this day that something good came out of that big blowup.”
Lukas gently rubbed his thumbs across his wife’s scratched knuckles and then leaned in and touched his lips to hers. As he pulled back, he said, “Sooty and scratched, you are the most beautiful bride in the world.” He smoothed her tangled hair away from her cheek.
She smiled into his eyes. “You got us safely out. I will follow you anywhere.” Then she took a long look around what remained of Wallace, Idaho. “But where do we go from here?”
The preacher pointed to the coming train. “I hear folks in Montana are welcoming survivors in Missoula and Helena. There’s a lot going on over there for an industrious couple such as yourselves.”
Juliana searched Lukas’s face. “Do you suppose they’d like a baker and a teacher there? Or do you have to go back and rebuild?”
“That’s up to you,” Lukas answered.
The preacher took a step down from the altar. “I hear they’re growing so fast they need all sorts. Most folks need to make their own opportunities. You could make as much there as working for the mines, if you do it right. Sounds like you both have the skills.”
“Opportunity, yes. This is why I came to America.” Lukas put an arm around Juliana. “This is what we’ll do. Yes?”
“Yes,” she whispered, rapture and relief washing over her adorably dirty face.
The preacher stretched out a hand. Lukas took it and they shook. “Might not be the best wedding supper, but the ladies of our church have good food ready. They’ve been feeding all the firefighters and survivors since yesterday. You’ll be a bright spot if you’ll let them feed you before catching the train.”
They followed the minister out of the redbrick chapel and around the side toward the back.
Juliana’s eyes misted. “What about your mother and sister? Everything is gone. How will you bring them now?”
Lukas stopped and hugged her. “They’re already on the way.”
“They are? How?”
“I sent tickets earlier in the week. I’ve always kept my funds away from the camps. Too much desperation and too much risk. The company agent deposits my pay in the bank and has set aside funds for my family all summer.”
“I did, too—deposit with the agent, I mean.”
“You did?” Lukas shook his head. “I thought you said you’d lost all your money in the fire.”
“No. I lost all my kitchen tools.” Her voice dropped into a husky tone. “And my memories.” She lifted a hand to his scruffy chin. “But I didn’t lose you or our future.”
“I’m sorry you lost all those things, though.”
“Me, too.” She touched her fingers to her temple and then her heart. “Those memories are here and here forever. But I suppose the pastry shop will start out a little smaller than it would have. Maybe I’ll be able to buy some used items.”
Lukas kissed her. “Oh, my lovely wife…You haven’t met my mother yet. She may very well have everything you need.”
“She would bring kitchen utensils all the way from Montenegro?”
He shrugged. “She may have already heard about your dream. I wrote to her, after I first looked into your eyes. I kept writing. She wrote back that she would sell all but her best utensils and bring them for you as a wedding gift. We may have lost our land, but the manor had an extensive kitchen.”
“That was mighty bold of you.” She plopped her hands on her waist. “What if I’d never agreed to marry you? You’d have had a trunk full of useless pots and pans.”
“No. I would have done this—” He scooped her up to a flurry of giggles. He held her close as her arms tightened around his neck, and strode toward their waiting meal, carrying her over the threshold of the fellowship hall.
“I see, Mr. Filips, you would abscond with my heart?”
“Mrs. Filips, I already have.” He kissed her before setting her on her feet to receive the good wishes of a room full of strangers. Strangers that shared the joy of a future and a hope amid the smoking mountains.