by Darrell Case
Chapter 21
Adam felt as though he were weightless, floating in a body of water. The sound of voices surrounded him, some angry and some soothing. The pain in his chest was gone, replaced with a wonderful peace. He saw a beautiful shore that seemed to beckon him. The grass and trees were a brilliant green; flowers of every shape and color gleamed. Their brightness almost hurt his eyes and their fragrance permeated the air, drifting to his nostrils. Birds were singing; their songs floated to his ears.
"Let's get them out of here," the policemen yelled to the stretcher bearers.
After giving the police a brief statement making himself to be the hero, O'Malley departed quickly with his wife in tow. Mary wanted to stay, if for no other reason than to comfort Erma. Shane, seeing the expression on Mary's face, was afraid she was about to make a statement of her own. If she did, he, not Adam, would be in serious trouble.
After carrying Frederick to the ambulance, the attendant returned for Adam. Erma blocked the way.
"I'll not have that murderer riding in the same ambulance as my husband!"
The attendant looked helplessly to the police officer. Kneeling by Adam's side, he was holding a cloth to the preacher's chest to stop the bleeding.
"Ma'am, if you do not step aside, I will place you under arrest," the policeman stated flatly.
"You can't be serious."
"Bill!" he called to his companion by the outside door.
When the man appeared, he said, "If she isn't out of the way in the next ten seconds, take her to jail."
"Okay Sarge," the policeman said, taking Mrs. Cooper by the elbow.
Jerking her arm out of his grasp, Erma stepped out of the middle of the door.
As O'Malley went out the front door of the parsonage , James went out the back. Sitting at a rickety table in the furnace room, Elijah was reading a passage from the Bible. It had taken James years to convince his father he could learn to read. Once he tried however, he had picked it up easily.
"Look here what it says," he said, pointing to a passage in Philippians. "It says God will take care of us. He sure doin' that." He smiled an almost toothless grin. Seeing the shocked look on James' face, he asked "What wrong?"
"Reverend Wakefield's been shot."
"Lord have mercy. What 'appened?"
"O'Malley said he shot Frederick Cooper, then was shot himself," James said shaking.
"He a liar, that preacher's not the kind to hurt nobody."
"O'Malley's a thief and a murderer,"
"What we gonna do?"
"I'm goin' to tell Miss Winters."
"They's a storm a comin'. The wind be whippin' offen the lake. Be likely to freeze ya in your tracks. You best wear my coat too," the old black man said. Scurrying to the wall, he pulled his worn coat off the nail.
"Father, I can't take your coat," James protested.
"I's too old to go my ownself. Here you wear this'un under yours."
Knowing it was useless to argue with Elijah, James put his father's coat on under his. He could barely move his upper body. When James was ready to go, Elijah took him by the shoulders, looked him in the eyes, and said, "Go with God, my son. I be a prayin' for you and the preacher."
As James opened the back door to the church, a gust of freeing wind took his breath away. Pulling his coat tighter, he plunged into the snowstorm.
Victoria pulled the covers tight against her chin. Sorrow shot through her soul like the chill in the house. Outside, the wind howled around the little cottage, finding every crack and making the windows rattle. All afternoon she had waited for Adam, her heart sinking lower with the sun.
Surely he was just delayed. After all, tomorrow was Christmas. Last week, she had taken what was left of her savings to buy him a new watch; he must come. But the hours dragged on and still he didn't come. Fighting fatigue, she went to bed only to lie there awake.
Finally she heard the clock in the living room strike twelve.
Christmas Day!
The tears flowed down her cheeks and soaked her pillow.
James's feet felt like blocks of ice. His father's prediction was right; halfway to Gertie's, the storm hit full force. The wind pushed against him, finding its way inside his layers of clothing, tearing through the rips and tears in the seams. Ice pellets stung his face, feeling like small cuts. The snow blinded him and caused him to lose his way. He considered going back.
He was close. He could almost feel it but the light of the gas lamps was almost blotted out by the driving snow. He stumbled and his hand shot out, catching himself from falling. His frozen fingers grasped a rusty iron fence. He recognized it immediately.
"Thank you Lord," he whispered through cold lips.
Victoria woke with a start. Something or someone was there. Over the roar of the wind, she heard the faint sound of snow crunching underfoot. The boards of the porch creaked under a heavy tread and a shadow fell across the window.
Cringing against the headboard, she was about to cry out when there was a rap at her bedroom window.
"Miss Winters, it's James Colburn, Reverend Wakefield's valet. I need to speak to you."
Victoria hesitated. How well did she know this man?
He rapped again, more urgently this time.
"Please, Miss Victoria! Reverend Wakefield's been hurt!"
Fumbling in the dark, she reached for her robe. Flinging it on over her nightdress, she cautiously opened the front door, her heart racing.
James pushed past her. In three big strides, he was in front of the fireplace. Shaking, he peeled off his gloves and extended his hands over the dying fire.
"I had to come see you. I knew you would want to know," James said through chattering teeth.
"What happened? Is he badly hurt?"
"Mr. O'Malley says he shot Mr. Cooper, and then tried to shoot him." James said, his tone sarcastic.
Gertie came into the room, fastening her robe.
"I don't believe it," Gertie said angrily. Going to the fireplace, she added more fuel.
"Adam wouldn't harm anyone," Victoria said.
"No ma'am, he wouldn't," James replied in agreement. The flames caught the new wood; the warmth felt like heaven to James.
"How badly is he hurt?" Victoria repeated, her emotions running the gamut from shock to concern.
James's eyes glistened with tears. It seemed like a long time before he answered.
"The doctor doesn't think he will last until morning," he said sadly.
Numbness crept into Victoria's very soul. She felt as though she would faint and she reached for the nearby chair to steady herself. At that moment, she realized how deeply she had grown to love Adam.
Gertie's hand flew to cover her mouth.
"Dear Lord! No!"
"Where is he? I must go to him," Victoria asked.
"He's at St. Luke's Hospital," James answered. He huddled closer to the fire, thinking of the walk to the hospital.
"I must go to him," she repeated, staggering in the direction of her room.
Following her, Gertie took her arm to steady her.
In the privacy of her room, Gertie said, "Victoria, you can't. The storm is too fierce."
"I must, Aunt Gertie!" Victoria replied, laying a heavy wool dress on her bed. Seeing the determined look in her niece's eyes, Gertie nodded. Hurrying, she selected some warm scarves, her heaviest coat, and some gloves.
"She can't go by herself, James," Gertie said pleading. Victoria rushed back into the room, dressed for the weather.
"I'll be happy to take her. Miss Winters, I know a short cut."
"God bless you," she said, smiling and shaking his hand. Standing on tiptoes, Gertie lightly kissed James' cheek. James sighed; her touch was like the touch of his mother.
"Please pray for him, Aunt Gertie," Victoria said, hugging her aunt.
"Of course I will dear."
With every inch of skin covered and only their eyes peering out, the two started on their journey. Soon after leaving the house, the snow swallowed them.
After they had vanished in the falling snow, Gertie knelt beside a chair in front of the fireplace. She began to pray with fervor for the wounded man of God and the safety of the two going to him. Gertie lost all sense of time. The hours ticked by like seconds in the presence of her Heavenly Father.
Leaning into the wind, the storm blinded them but the two hurried on. Stumbling, their feet and hands freezing, they prayed for a miracle.
RIVER OF FIRE
