Present Day
THOMAS DRAGGED THE RAKE THROUGH THE DEBRIS, FEELING as useless as the burned rubbish he moved from one spot to another. The lantern light limited his ability to see beyond a small circumference, so he’d have to wait until daylight to thoroughly sift through the pile. But he had to do something.
Off to his right, a glow of lantern light illuminated Noreen’s form as she sat perched on the chopping block, shoulders hunched and her hands wrapped around a mug. He should have insisted she go home with Jonathan and Patty. Outside was no place for her. The mosquitoes this time of the year were merciless. And admittedly, he wasn’t much company. She hadn’t always appreciated his need to have time alone and he had zero desire to listen to her optimistic rhetoric. Sure, he was thankful that she got out safe, that he could finally take short breaths without much pain, and that the fire didn’t spread to the barn or past their corn field. But God could have prevented the fire in the first place. Had He wanted to, God could have prevented the past fifteen years of heartache. But who was he to understand the mind of God?
Thomas took a short breath without discomfort, then tested his lungs further and breathed in deeply. This air exchange triggered a cough, which produced a thick substance in the back of his throat. The time he’d had walking pneumonia, he coughed up greenish phlegm. This constant cough hours after the fire was no doubt God’s way of reminding him that he wasn’t out of the woods. Maybe his thankfulness had been in vain. Next, the muscles between his ribs would spasm. That had been happening sporadically since he went back into the house to retrieve the tin box.
Thomas coughed hard and spat a liquid, coal-tinted substance onto a piece of wood that used to support the tie beam. The sizzle told him the building material and household contents were still too hot to handle. Perhaps tomorrow cleanup could start.
Timorous footsteps approached from behind. He turned slightly and noticed Noreen walking stiffly, trying hard not to spill the contents in the mug she was carrying. “I poured you some kaffi,” she said softly, eyes on the liquid sloshing over the rim of the mug. “It won’t stay warm much longer and without a kettle—” Her words broke. She glanced up and offered a weak smile along with the mug. “I thought you might want to take a break.”
He hadn’t done any work yet, but he set the rake on the ground and accepted the mug. “Danki.”
“Can I get you one of the cheese sandwiches Patty brought?”
“Nett nau.” He took a drink. The tepid coffee was too strong to appreciate hot or cold. Thomas studied Noreen as she stared at the smoldering mound. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was rehashing memories of better times or simply pondering their losses.
She cleared her throat. “I heard Rebecca gave birth to a boy. Your bruder must be thrilled.”
“He should be. Levi got the sohn he’d wanted.”
“You make it sound as if he’s been disappointed with his three daughters.”
“Of course that isn’t true,” Thomas snipped. “What man wouldn’t feel blessed to be a father? Sohn or daughter.”
She turned her gaze to the ashes. “I thought I was going to die in the fire. When you showed up in the kitchen . . .”
“You were surprised.” He finished her sentence. Despite using a soft, even tone, she recoiled, a wounded—or was it appalled?—look in her eyes.
“I just wanted to thank you for saving mei life,” she snapped.
They were both tired and on edge. The Bible warns of tribulations, and this was just another trial. Either they would work through it or it would drive a deeper wedge between them. But that wasn’t new. He took another swallow of bitter coffee and grimaced.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered.
He lifted his mug. “You didn’t make the kaffi.” He cracked a smile, hoping it would help diffuse the tension between them.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, stiffening her back and evening out her tone, “that you felt obligated to save me.”
Obligated? He didn’t know any man who wouldn’t try to protect his family, rescue them, lead them to safety. It was the husband’s duty—his role. He stifled the thought to set her straight and instead took a deep breath and released the tension in a sigh. “You should have gone home with Jonathan and Patty. You won’t be comfortable here.”
She stared at him hard, eyes watery. “You think I’m too feeble to sleep in the barn, but I’m nett.”
“That’s nett what I meant.” He tossed the last bit of coffee on the cinders, the hissing reminding him of when water boiled over the kettle spout and hit the surface of the wood stove. Now, the cast-iron stove, with its detached stovepipe, stood by itself, its white enamel coating burned down to the primer.
She reached for his empty mug. “I’m going to make up a bed in the hayloft . . . if you care to join me.”
“Later.” He snatched the rake off the ground. “I need to watch to make sure the fire doesn’t restart.” It wouldn’t, the firemen had doused it good, but he needed some excuse to avoid spending more time with his wife. She was being emotional again and he wasn’t in the mood to tiptoe around her this time.
Noreen walked away, crossing the lawn in the darkness. A few moments later, lantern light flickered in a barn window.
Thomas recalled how they had once promised each other that they’d never go to bed angry, but that was years ago—things were different then.
A sharp spasm in his rib muscles stole his breath. He clasped one hand over his chest and gripped the rake handle tightly, diffusing the pain. Lord, help me.