by Lynn Landes
Chapter 5
Jordan sleeps fitfully and wakes early. She dresses quickly and hurries to the kitchen after dropping her bags at the front door. “Good morning,” Felecia says and pours her a cup of coffee.
“Thank you for letting me stay with you last night,” she sips and closes her eyes with contentment. “So good,” she sighs and glances at her friend.
“You’re always welcome,” Felecia says. “Breakfast will be ready shortly, Mark said to stay here until he comes to take you home.”
Jordan frowns at her friend. “Felecia, I need to speak to my father in private. Mark can meet me there.”
“I understand, but he’s very concerned about you being alone.” Felecia smiles, “I will go with you. I can visit with Erin and your mother, while you talk to your father.”
“They’d love that,” she smiles as they rinse their cups and head to the front door, “Erin is very excited about her birthday.”
“I bet. Mark took the carriage, so we will have to take the wagon.”
“That’s fine, we should enjoy the weather before the first snow hits.” The girls talk as Felecia drives the five blocks toward her parent’s street.
“Do you hear that?” Jordan asks with a frown. Both girls fall silent for a minute.
“That’s the fire siren,” Felecia says with concern. She pulls the wagon over to the side of the street as the noise grows behind them. Two horse-drawn steam powered fire carriages race past them and turn down the next street.
“I hope no one’s hurt,” Jordan says even as a third fire carriage races past them, causing both girls to jump. “I don’t like this,” she whispers.
“Wow, it must be bad,” Felecia snaps the reins to pick up speed.
Her parent’s brownstone is only a few blocks from her own. A sick feeling ripples through Jordan’s stomach. The closer they get to the center of town, the stronger the stench of smoke grows.
“Why is the sky glowing?” Jordan murmurs in a sickly voice. The morning sky has a hazy glow of smoke and her throat begins to itch from the thick ash dancing on the air. When the street finally comes into view, Felecia is forced to pull back on the reins. The fire brigades have blocked off the street, forcing people to stay back as four steam-powered wagons concentrate the water from the hoses on the strip of houses.
Neighbors are standing around holding buckets and staring in disbelief at the row of homes now engulfed in flames. The roofs collapse in a shower of ash and flames, causing Jordan to scream in alarm. She leaps from the wagon and picks up her skirts, running, desperate to get to her family.
Strong arms grab Jordan to keep her from crossing the line. Sobbing now, Jordan doesn’t fight him when he picks her up and runs back to safety. Felecia runs to meet her, and she knows they are speaking, but everything fades to silence. The hissing of the flames taunt her as they lick, up, through and over the buildings.
Felecia drops with her onto the sidewalk, both openly crying as ashes dance on the wind. The glow of the burning building’s sends an eerie coloring skipping around the early morning air.
Jordan stays with the families waiting for news of their loved ones trapped or hurt in the fire. When the first of the dead are carried outside, a roar of agony ripples through the group. By the end of the day, fifteen bodies, young and old, are placed on the concrete sidewalk, and covered in tarps.
When her parent’s brownstone crumbles beneath the weight of the roof, Jordan hears a keening, wailing sound before the darkness takes her.
Chapter 6
Mark walks through the production floor, stopping along the way to speak to the foundry workers. Once they were heavy on workers and orders, now they are struggling to make ends meet. Jordan can barely keep the mill above water.
“You look like a man who could use a drink,” a deep voice says from behind him.
Mark jumps in surprise and frowns when he sees Orson Barnaby. “I don’t drink, Mr. Barnaby.”
“Then let me buy you a cup of coffee, Mark. I’m here to help.” Orson replies.
“What are you doing here?” Mark snaps.
“I heard about Jordan’s family. It was a terrible shock. I’d like to help.”
“Help, how? By forcing her to sell to you?” Mark glares.
“I wouldn’t force her to do anything. She’s lost enough. In fact, I’d like to help fill your next few orders,” Orson explains.
“Why? What’s in it for you?” Mark demands. Staring at Orson, he can’t help but hear Johan’s words not to trust him.
“I’ve made my intentions clear from the beginning, Mark. Jordan knows how I feel. It’s obvious she isn’t ready to move on, but you must agree that she can’t keep doing this. How long until she loses the business? I’d say a few weeks at the most. Don’t let her pride put you all in the poorhouse!”
“Barnaby do you seriously expect me to believe that this isn’t about my offer to sell you Johan’s idea?” Mark snarls.
“Of course that’s part of it. I won’t lie, but you came to me with that offer, Mark. You would stay on with Barnaby Steel and be able to provide a better life for your wife. Jordan wouldn’t have to work so hard. I don’t understand why this is so hard to understand,” Orson snaps.
Mark stops moving, “Perhaps I was quick to dismiss your offer. Forgive me, it’s been a rough week.” Mark runs a hand over his weary, bloodshot eyes.
“How is she?” Orson asks softly.
“Bad. The doctor had to sedate her for the first few days,” Mark's voice breaks and he turns away from Orson.
“And now?” Orson asks guiding him inside the office and sits him down.
“Now?” Mark stares at him, “Now she’s distraught because she missed the funerals. Pastor Greigh is spending some time with her, and Felecia won’t leave her side. The last thing she needs to worry about is pressure from you about selling or marriage.”
“I understand. Let me help fill some of your orders and give her the time she needs to heal. I feel horrible that she’s going through this. So much loss for one so young. It seems senseless.”
Mark is quiet for a few minutes as he thinks about it. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you. You should know she’s in no condition to talk about selling anything. She isn’t speaking, Orson, to anyone.”
“What do you mean?” he asks intently.
“I mean she hasn’t said a word.” Mark glances out of the window, “Not a word.”
“I see,” Orson replies.
“No, Orson, I don’t think you understand. If she has the design, she isn’t speaking about it.”
“Let’s take it one day at a time. Today we worry about keeping Regent Steel above water and giving her the time she needs. Please pass on my condolences and give my regards to your wife. Felecia is a good friend to stay by her side.”
“Thank you,” Mark smiles thinking about his wife. “They’ve been friends for a long time.”
“They are about the same age, aren’t they?”
Mark’s smile fades. “Yes, they are.”
“Do you think she’d be as strong as Jordan?” Orson asks.
“What does that mean?”
“I mean, Jordan’s lost her husband and family in a short period. Johan left her with no means. The job at Barnaby Steel offers life insurance, Mark. Felecia would never have to worry about life without you. Just another thing for you to think about.”
Mark stares at him with a sick feeling in his stomach. “I’ll talk to Jordan as soon as I can.”
“Excellent, now get me the specifications on your next three orders.”
Chapter 7
“It’s been over two weeks, Taylor. I need to speak to her,” Mark insists softly from the hallway outside her office.
“Not now, she’s only just now out of bed,” she snaps.
“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important,” he shoves into the office, past the housekeeper and his wife and finds Jordan sitting in the corner, staring out the window. “Jordan, we need to ta
lk.”
Jordan doesn’t flinch, she remains impassive as he stomps over to sit beside her. “I know you're hurting, but you don’t understand what’s happening.”
“Taylor why don’t we make Jordan’s some lunch,” Felecia suggests softly.
“Fine, but the Pastor should be here soon.” They leave, and Marks sits beside Jordan and stares at her. She’s pale, and has lost weight, but this can’t wait any longer.
“Orson Barnaby has been helping us out at the steel mill. In fact, he filled our last three orders. I think you should hear him out and consider his offer.”
“What?” her voice is hoarse from lack of use. “You read Johan’s letter…”
“I know what it said, Jordan, but actions speak louder than words. Orson has been a friend to us. We have no proof that he was behind anything that happened to Johan.”
This time she turns to look at him, and he is struck by her haunted look. “You doubt Johan? Why?”
Mark runs a hand over his face and whispers, “Johan’s death was an accident, Jordan. There was nothing unsavory about his death.”
“What are you saying?” she asks in a hoarse whisper.
“I’m saying that you should talk to Orson. I told him about the design.”
She stands slowly, trembling with rage. “You had no right to do that!”
“Jordan, he cares about your future. We all do, and you can’t stay here like this forever.” Mark says without looking at her. “Regent Steel will be out of business within a month, without his support.”
“I thought I could trust you,” Jordan glances away from him and hears Johan’s warning not to trust anyone.
“I’m sorry, but I am trying to make sure you don’t end up penniless!”
Jordan’s head is pounding. She covers her eyes and whirls away from him as Felecia pushes in with a tray.
“I’m sure once you have a chance to think about this. You will see it’s for the best. Jordan understand that even though you can’t sell the business, the design is free to be sold. You’ll never have to worry about money again. I’m only looking out for you.”
“I know you believe that. I love you both,” she sniffs back tears.
“We love you too,” Felecia whispers and rushes to her.
“I’m going to get back to work, Felecia will stay with you until Pastor Greigh arrives.” Mark waves and leaves with a sick feeling in his stomach. Johan was acting paranoid the last year before his death. He trusted no one and shared nothing with any of them. But why does it feel so wrong to push her towards Orson?
Jordan returns to the dark recess of her mind where nothing hurts. She jumps when the knock comes at the door.
“Jordan, Pastor Greigh is here to read to you again.”
“Pastor Greigh?” Jordan asks Felecia.
“Yes, he’s been visiting you these last couple of weeks.”
“I don’t remember that,” she whispers, and her fists ball up in her skirt. She isn’t sure how to feel about the Lord right now, and shame has her dropping her head.
“Try to eat, Jordan. I don’t want you to get sick.” Felecia prods.
Food has lost its flavor, but Jordan nods, picking up a cup of broth. “Thank you.” She sips the soup until Felecia steps from the room and places it back down on the tray. Staring out of the window, she loses track of time once more.
A tentative knock has her turning to the door.
“Jordan, Pastor Greigh is here to see you,” Felecia guides him inside and offers him a cup of tea.
“Thank you, I won’t stay long,” he glances at Jordan and sits across from her, waiting for her to greet him.
“I’ll just be outside,” Felecia says and leaves quietly.
Pastor Greigh waits patiently and watches Jordan until she lifts her eyes to his. He’s immediately struck by the pain reflected in them.
“Have you come to tell me that everything is going to be okay, Pastor?” she asks with bitterness in her voice.
“Not at all. Today I’d like to read to you from Revelation 21:4,” Pastor Greigh says. Jordan turns away and stares out of the window of her sitting room.
“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain, anymore, for the former things have passed away.”
“Jordan you have had more loss in your young life than most, but I promise that you are not alone. The Lord is with you, he holds you in his hand and his heart.” He puts the Bible away and stares at her until she looks at him with vacant eyes.
Unable to respond for fear of what she will say, Jordan stays quiet. Pastor Greigh pats her hand and waits.
“Erin’s birthday is soon, she was terribly excited.” Jordan flashes back to the look on her face when she gave her the crescent moon pin. “I missed the funeral…” her voice breaks, “Did I dishonor them by not going?” Tears fill her blue eyes, and he is quick to grip her hand.
“No. Funerals are for the living, Jordan, your family is free of all pain. Remember, he will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain, anymore, for the former things have passed away.”
“Former things are passed away,” she whispers as her tears stream down her face.
“Yes, that’s right. I’d like to come back and visit you, if that’s okay?”
“Please,” Jordan sniffs and wipes her nose with a handkerchief.
Chapter 8
“Orson Barnaby is here to see you, Jordan.” Felecia murmurs as she brushes her hair.
Jordan frowns, and her eyes jump to Felecia’s. “Why?”
“Jordan, he’s been amazing. Did you know that he offered Mark a job at Barnaby Steel after you marry him?” Felecia says with a smile.
“I am not marrying him!” Jordan snatches the brush from her.
“If you do, he has promised to take care of all the mill workers. They even offer life insurance for the family members in case of accidental death,” Felecia’s voice fades when Jordan jumps up and paces in her room.
Rage ripples through her and around her. “Haven’t I lost enough, now I have to lose my business?” she snarls.
“Jordan!” Felecia gapes at her. “The business was in danger before…” her voice fades.
“Before my family died,” she whirls on her, “you can say it,” she snaps and throws the brush at the wall, breaking it.
Felecia jumps in shock. “Jordan, I …”
“You should go. I will deal with Orson,” she turns and waits for her to leave and wills herself to calm down.
Jordan walks slowly down the stairs, stopping outside the office and listens to Mark and Felecia talking to Orson. Felecia is upset and whispering about her outburst. When she pushes into the room, they all stop and turn to look at her.
Dressed in black, Jordan’s pale skin stands out even more starkly. “Jordan,” Mark says, “Orson came to pay his condolences.”
“I can speak for myself Mark,” Orson breathes, not missing the anger flashing in her eyes.
“Please, speak, Mr. Barnaby. Everyone’s telling me about your selflessness. How you came to our rescue,” she snarls and marches into the room. “What I want to know is why?”
“Obviously, you aren’t in the right frame of mine for a visit.” Mark tries to defuse the situation, but Jordan whirls on him.
“Well, Mark, you aren’t really a neutral party, are you? Considering you will be working for the enemy when this is done.”
Felecia gasps, and Mark glares back at her.
“The enemy?” Orson says meeting her halfway. “Only in your mind, Jordan. I will come back when you’re ready to receive visitors.” Orson stares at Mark. “I’ll see you tonight for dinner, I look forward to spending the evening getting to know you better.”
Jordan glares at him until he’s gone. “Jordan, you must listen to reason!” Mark hisses at her.
“I’m tired of people telling me what I shou
ld feel or do!” she stomps over to the desk. “I’ll be back at work on Monday morning. You can both go now and prepare for your guest.”
“You may want to think about pushing away those of us who love you, Jordan. Life can be lonely if you surround yourself only in rage and anger,” Felecia snaps.
“That’s easy for you to say, isn’t it Felecia? You know nothing of my pain! Just go.” Jordan refuses to look at them as they leave. When the tears come, she lets them as she draws out Johan’s letter and reads it again.
A knock sounds later as Jordan is going over the books for the business. Mark is right. She will be lucky to make the next month. What is she going to do?
“Jordan, Pastor Greigh is here to see you,” Taylor announces.
“I’m busy,” she stammers. “Give him my regrets.” She stands and sits near the fireplace.
“Fine,” she leaves.
“Pastor Greigh,” she hears Taylor say in the foyer, “Jordan isn’t up to visitors today.”
“Yes, I heard,” he grins, “part of growing old is ignoring conventions.”
Taylor grins back, “Be warned, Pastor, she is a bit angry.”
“Thank you,” he walks to the office and pushes inside and finds Jordan staring out the window.
“Is he gone?” she asks.
“Not yet,” he quips, causing her to jump with embarrassment.
“Pastor Greigh! I’m so sorry...” she says.
“Nonsense, you aren’t the first to try to get rid of me. I won’t stay long. I’ve got some work to do for the orphan train today.”
“Oh, I’ve heard about that,” she says and waits for him to sit. It occurs to her that she is an orphan now. Anger simmers beneath the surface, and she covers her face with a hand. “I’m terrible company, Pastor,” she whispers.
