NOREEN DODGED THE COLLAPSED FIRE HOSE STRETCHED over the ground as she rushed across the yard to where Thomas was slumped against a tree. The rescue worker removed her husband’s straw hat and set it aside, then positioned a clear breathing mask over the bridge of Thomas’s nose and extending past his mouth. Noreen dropped to her knees at her husband’s side.
“Try to take slow, deep breaths, sir,” the man helping him said.
Thomas’s lips pursed. His shoulders lifted as he inhaled the oxygen, his chest expanding. A bubbly crackling noise escaped his airway, sounding like a man gagging on his own fluids. He jerked the mask from his face and coughed. Spasms overtook his body.
“Wha-what’s happening?” Her gaze darted between her husband struggling to catch his breath and the worker who’d trained his eyes on Thomas, but for whatever reason hadn’t initiated any treatment. A few seconds later, the spasms subsided. A sheen of sweat matted Thomas’s light brown hair to his forehead. He panted short, shallow breaths, and when he looked up, his eyes held a dull cast that caused her insides to shudder.
“Let’s get the oxygen mask back on you.” The rescuer, a tall wiry man, repositioned the mask over Thomas’s face. “Try to relax your breathing.” The man demonstrated several deep, even breaths and coaxed Thomas to follow.
Thomas eyed the worker with a vacant gaze.
“Let the oxygen help you,” the man said, repeating the same deep cleansing breaths with an encouraging smile.
Noreen placed her hand on her husband’s shoulder. Beneath the soot, his face was a blistering shade of red. Even after working all day in the open field exposed to the direct sun, he never looked this burnt. On closer evaluation, his eyebrows appeared singed, his beard a few inches shorter. “You went so close to the fire,” she said, blurting her thoughts. “Are you okay?”
If he answered, she couldn’t hear over the hum of the fire truck’s engine. She directed her question to the worker. “Is he going to be all right?”
“He breathed in a lot of smoke, ma’am. Were you in the house as well?”
“Jah, but I feel fine.” Noreen’s eyes stung with tears recalling how Thomas had given her his handkerchief to breathe into. Even when he went back into the house, he didn’t use anything but his elbow. She could have prevented this disaster. Had she not gone down to the cellar when she did . . . Oh, Lord, I caused all of this.
“I’d like to transport him to the hospital, but he’s refused.”
Of course he did. Her husband was as stubborn as a goat.
“Thomas,” she said loud enough for her voice to carry over the commotion. He looked at her, a withered echo of sadness in his gaze. “You need a doktah to check your lungs.” She tapped her hand against her chest. “Your lungs are filled with smoke.”
Thomas shook his head slowly.
“Please, Thomas.”
He closed his eyes and turned away from her.
Noreen clamped her mouth closed. She’d learned over the years that this gesture meant the topic was closed. Pleading wouldn’t help. She’d been dismissed. Noreen glanced up at the worker. “He won’t go.”
“If that’s his decision,” the man said, “I can’t force him.”
Seeing the man adjust a valve on the oxygen tank, Noreen feared the worker was about to discontinue the oxygen. It made sense now that the fire was out and Thomas had turned down emergency transport that the workers wouldn’t stay much longer. After all, it was getting late. Except for what light spilled over the area from the fire truck’s flood lamps, it was dark.
She had half a mind to get Bishop Zook involved. Someone needed to talk some sense into her husband. She peered over to where the men milled around the base of the smoldering rubble and spied the bishop. As she set her feet to stand, Thomas caught her arm. He shook his head and she sat back down. Even in his weakened state, the man was bullheaded.
The firefighter glanced over his shoulder, then redirected his attention back to Thomas. “Is the oxygen helping?”
Between the mask shielding his voice and the interference from the surrounding noises, Noreen wasn’t sure if he’d muttered yes or no.
The rescuer held two fingers against Thomas’s wrist and studied his watch. After a minute, he looked up and asked, “Does your chest still feel heavy?”
Thomas stared blankly at the man.
Noreen leaned closer. “Did you hear his question? He asked if your chest feels heavy.”
Thomas furrowed his brows at her. After nearly fifteen years of marriage, they could communicate without words. Her husband’s gaze held a warning she couldn’t easily ignore. Still, he hadn’t answered the rescuer’s question. A two-ton plow horse could be sitting on his chest and Thomas wouldn’t admit it was heavy.
“Tell the firefighter if your chest feels heavy,” she insisted.
Thomas touched his chest midsternum.
“That’s where it hurts?” Noreen turned to the worker. “What does that mean?”
“He really needs to see a doctor. His heart rate is fast, his blood pressure slightly elevated. I don’t like the congested sound I hear in his lungs.”
Thomas removed the oxygen mask again and coughed. “Mei throat’s . . . dry,” he rasped. “Noreen—” He coughed harder.
She pushed off the ground. “I’ll get you a glass of—” Her words caught in her throat. The house was gone. The water glasses, the leaky faucet that would never stop dripping, the kitchen cabinets Thomas had built . . . everything—gone. Her shoulders sagged. Lord, I feel so helpless. I can’t even get mei husband a cup of water for his parched throat.
Voices muffled around her and, for a moment, she had the sensation of everyone moving in slow motion. The firefighters packed equipment into compartments of the fire truck; their Englisch neighbors climbed into their cars. She hadn’t even thanked them.
Thomas barked another mucous-laden cough and Noreen sprang into action. She hurried across the yard to the washhaus. Without a lantern, it was impossible to see inside the wooden shed. She blindly felt her way along the wall until she touched the washtub, then she patted the area to the right where she had hung a washrag on a peg the day before. The rag would have to do. She hurried out of the building and over to the well pump.
Shards of pain tore through her shoulder muscles as she cranked the handle. The pump felt harder to prime than usual, but she persevered. A few forceful pumps and cold water gushed from the spigot. She soaked the cloth, wrung it out, then soaked it with water again. She didn’t want Thomas ingesting any soap residue left behind from cleaning. Even after she was sure the cloth was clean, she rinsed and wrung it out one more time. Her fingers stiffened and turned numb from the icy water, which should certainly soothe Thomas’s throat.
Patty strode across the lawn. “How’s your husband?”
“His throat’s dry and his lungs are filled with smoke,” she said.
“Is he going to the hospital to get checked?”
“He refused, and knowing how stubborn he is, nothing will change his mind.” Noreen gave the rag a tight squeeze, more an effort to release tension than to drain any excess water from the cloth. A few steps away from the pump, she glimpsed the flicker of lanterns in the distance, the glow reminding her of fireflies. The members were making their way to the parked buggies at the end of the driveway where the horses were tied a safe distance away from the fire to prevent them from spooking. Noreen twisted the washrag, then realized she’d extracted too much water and turned back to rewet it.
Patty followed her back to the pump. “Do you want to go with us to take the kinner home?”
Noreen shook her head. “I’m going to stay. Thomas might decide to go into the hospital. He might need me.” He wouldn’t. Thomas didn’t need anyone. She gave the rag a shake. “Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.”
“Once the kinner are settled, I’ll gather a few supplies. Jonathan plans to stay a little longer. I think Bishop Zook is too. Can you think of anything you’d like me to bring back?”
“A water glass would be nice. I’m wetting this rag for Thomas to suck on, but I’m sure he would appreciate more to drink.”
“Absolutely.” Patty placed her hand on Noreen’s shoulder. “Maybe when I kumm back, you’ll be ready to leave, jah?”
“We’ll see.” A hearty cough carried across the night air. “I imagine that’s Thomas reminding me about the water.”
“I’ll see you in a little while.” Patty headed toward her buggy.
Noreen returned to the area lit by floodlights from the fire truck. Thomas was still propped against the tree, breathing into a mask, the rescuer squatting next to him. To her untrained ears, his breathing sounded better. Less wheezy. His chest expanded and fell several times without triggering a coughing fit. That had to be good. She sat next to him and handed him the rag. “Hopefully, you can suck enough water out to help your thirst.”
Thomas removed the mask and rasped, “Danki” as he placed the corner of the cloth into his mouth. The longer he went without the mask, the more his lungs rattled. He hadn’t improved as much as she first thought.
She studied how his chest moved up and down in sync with the wheezy sounds he made. Inhaling, exhaling—it all looked exhausting for him. “Your breathing is still labored. Is the oxygen helping at all?” Her question was for the man attending him as much as for Thomas.
Thomas groaned.
Noreen noticed the worker’s strained expression and asked again, “He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”
“I still think he should see a doctor,” the man said.
A firefighter approached, wearing a reflective jacket and pants, clipboard in hand. His yellow, oversized rubber boots had a film of ashes covering them. He glanced at the clipboard. “Are you Mr. and Mrs. King?”
“Jah,” Noreen replied.
“I’m Lieutenant Kyle DeBoer. I was told you are the homeowners?”
Thomas withdrew the rag from his mouth. “Jah, that’s right.”
“We’ll be packing up our equipment and heading out shortly, but I wanted to let you know my report will be available tomorrow. I’m sure your insurance company will request a copy and I’ll file one with the county fire investigator as well.”
“We don’t have insurance,” Thomas said.
“Then you probably won’t need an investigational analysis to determine where and how the fire started.”
Noreen’s insides wrenched. They didn’t need an investigator to tell them what she already knew. She neglected the simmering beef stew. She caused the fire.
“Nay, we won’t need a report.” Thomas turned and coughed into his fist.
Noreen picked up the oxygen mask. “Maybe you should put this back on.”
“Nay, I’m fine.” Thomas pushed off the ground and stood. “How much do we owe you?”
“I don’t handle the billing.” The firefighter tapped his pen against the clipboard. “The fire department will send a bill to the township and from there I’m not sure. There might not be any charge for the service.” He motioned over his shoulder toward the smoldering embers. “Be careful around the ash pile. It’ll stay hot several more hours. You’ll also want to watch for any new hotspots that could develop. I don’t think you’ll have any problems, but secondary fires have been known to start even after a fire is thought to be contained.”
“Jah,” Thomas said. “I plan to keep a close eye on it all nacht.”
The man’s brows lifted and he turned to the other firefighter who had been administering the oxygen.
“Mr. King doesn’t wish to be transported for treatment,” the man who had been caring for him said.
“That’s right.” Thomas coughed.
The lieutenant eyed him a moment as if assessing Thomas’s condition. “Then I guess our work here is finished.” He offered a friendly smile before turning his attention to the other man. “How long do you need, Jack?”
“Five, ten minutes.” The firefighter glanced at his clipboard, flipped a page, then spoke to Thomas. “If you’re absolutely sure you don’t want to go to the hospital, I’ll need you to sign a release-of-treatment form.”
“I’ll sign it.”
Noreen leaned closer to Thomas. “Are you sure you don’t want to see the doctor?”
He shot her a let it be glare, turned to the worker, took the clipboard and pen, and jotted his signature on the form. “Thanks for your help,” he said before walking away.
If only she could fool herself into believing his curt behavior was an oddity. But it wasn’t. He wasn’t the same jubilant man she’d married fifteen years ago. But life had been different then.