Sam raised his hands in a calming motion. “Okay. If that’s what you want, I understand.” He touched Darrell gently on his shoulder. “Go get your jacket. We’ll go see him and say good-bye.”
Jessica stared at Sam as Darrell left the room. “It’s good for him to have some closure, Jess. He needs to say good-bye to his dog.”
She stepped back, hugging her arms around her body. “I guess that’s the least we can do for him right now. I’ll call the clinic and tell them that you’re coming.”
Darrell appeared, wearing a huge coat he had borrowed from his uncle. His expression was devastatingly sad.
He had been through so much in the last twenty-four hours. This entire ordeal had forced the boy to grow up in leaps and bounds, Sam reflected.
It was hardly the way he wanted his children to learn and mature. But parents don’t get to choose the circumstances of these important life lessons. Sam had already figured that out. Parents don’t get to choose at all.
CHAPTER FIVE
ON TUESDAY MORNING, JESSICA WOKE TYLER AND DARRELL AT the usual time. They quickly ate some cereal then dressed in their new clothes. They both wore brand-new shoes and carried brand-new backpacks. It was something like the first day of school, Jessica thought as she saw them off. But not quite.
Sam drove them both to school in Emily’s car while Dan dropped Jane off at preschool. Both Sam and Jessica’s cars had been damaged by the fire and were now in the shop, being steam-cleaned and spray-painted.
By the time the two men returned, Emily and Jessica were ready to head out to the house. Jessica carried some supplies—rubber pails, gloves, heavy-duty trash bags. She pulled open the tailgate and tossed the stuff into the back of Emily’s Jeep.
“I wonder if Dan should take his own car,” she said to Sam. “What if we have a lot of things to bring back? It might not all fit in the Jeep.”
“I can go back later. Let’s just get over there. Rhinehardt said nine,” Sam reminded her.
Jessica nodded and the four of them climbed into the Jeep.
“The temperature’s dropped. We may have to chip through some ice to look for things,” Sam said.
The house—what remained of it—would be filled with water. Jessica knew that, but it was still hard to picture.
“Then we’ll be archaeologists,” Emily said from the front seat.
“You can make anything sound positive,” Jessica marveled.
“That’s because I’ve had lots of practice as mayor,” Emily joked. “Politicians specialize in positive.”
“Well, I appreciate it,” Jessica said.
Emily and Dan had been so kind and generous. Jessica really did feel very grateful. She had told Emily she didn’t need to come this morning, but her sister had insisted. Jessica was glad now that Emily was there. As they drew closer to the house, Jessica felt nerves jump in her stomach. She could tell Sam felt nervous, too. He reached out and gripped her hand.
She spotted their mailbox which she had painted with flowers. At least it looked the same, untouched by the fire, covered with a bit of snow.
We need to collect the mail on the way home, she realized. I need to have it held at the post office until we find a permanent place to stay. She could already see that Emily and Dan’s little gray cottage was not big enough for both of their families, despite her sister and brother-in-law’s warm hospitality.
“Well, here we are.” Emily pulled up the drive slowly. The Jeep bounced on the frozen ground and patches of ice. The drive was rutted from the heavy fire trucks and so was the front of the property.
“I see Chief Rhinehardt’s car,” Emily said. “He got here early.”
Jessica saw the car up ahead, too. The fire chief stood nearby and waved to them. Distracted by his greeting, she didn’t immediately focus on the house.
It was only when the Jeep came to a stop that she finally turned and saw it. She gasped out loud and pressed her hand over her mouth. She couldn’t help it. For a moment, she thought she might be sick to her stomach.
Sam leaned toward her and put his arm around her shoulder. Emily glanced back at them, then, without a word, got out of the Jeep. Dan did the same.
“Sam . . . there’s nothing left . . .” Jessica managed.
“Let’s get out and take a look around,” Sam said quietly. “I know it looks bad. But we have to see what’s what, Jess.”
Jessica nodded and wiped her tears. Then she climbed out of her side of the Jeep and hopped onto the snow.
She could barely stand to look up at the house. The once-beautiful structure was a charred shell. She could hardly tell that the house had been painted blue. Everything was scorched and burnt looking, like a pile of burnt toast.
The front wall was mostly intact, the windows smashed and the porch caved in. A shred of lace curtain blew out from an upstairs window, like a lone survivor, signaling for help.
Both sides of the house were eaten away by the fire and the back nearly a blank spot, like the back of a dollhouse. The roof was caved in, looking as though some fierce monster had taken a bite out of the peak.
Jessica took a few steps forward. Emily came to her side. “Are you all right?” she asked quietly.
“How could I be? There’s nothing left, Em. Look at it.”
Emily sighed and touched Jessica’s shoulder. She didn’t try to offer any false hopes or empty comforts, and for that, Jessica was grateful.
Sam and Dan were standing with Chief Rhinehardt, by the chief’s car. Sam turned to her. “Chief says we can go inside, through the front. But not too far. He’s going to come in with us.”
Emily turned to her. “Are you up to doing this, Jessica? You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to.”
Jessica swallowed back a lump in her throat. “I can do it. I don’t want Sam to go in alone,” she added.
They walked up to the front of the house and followed Chief Rhinehardt through the door. Sam waited for her and held her hand. Emily and Dan waited outside on the lawn. Jessica could see her sister was crying, her face pressed against her husband’s chest. Emily had waited, not wanting her little sister to see her tears, Jessica guessed.
She blinked at the sight before her. It was their living room. But then again, it was not. More of a phantom of the room that had been so familiar and cozy. Everything was coated with black soot—the walls, floors, and ceilings, even the windows. Pieces of burned drapery hung in tatters, framing the shards of jagged glass that had once been windows.
The antique love seats were charred black, the oval coffee table burned completely and collapsed in on itself. Objects were melted, strange puddles that had once been radios or clocks.
Jessica took a step or two forward and felt as if she were walking in mud. The floor was covered with a wet pasty mix of soot, ash, and water—a black mud that coated every surface.
She stopped in her tracks. What was the point? It was hopeless. There was nothing here to save or salvage.
Sam stepped forward and picked up a chair that was tipped on its side, half burned. “I could fix this,” he said quietly, putting it aside.
Jessica glanced at him. She didn’t have the heart to argue.
“Listen folks, this house is unstable now. I can’t let you go any farther than this room,” Chief Rhinehardt told them. “The floor is gone past that point,” he said, pointing to a spot in the arched doorway. “You could fall through into the basement and get hurt. Same goes for upstairs.”
“So we can’t really look for belongings that we might save?” Jessica asked.
“Sorry, not yet. If you have the house knocked down, the wreckers might be able to help you with that.”
“Knocked down?” Sam stared at the fire chief. “Who says we’re going to knock it down? I’m going to fix it, rebuild.”
Jessica could see the fire chief struggle to hold his tongue. He stared down at the floor a moment. When he looked up, his expression was sympathetic. “That’s up to you, folks. And the insurance c
ompany, I guess.”
“Is that true?” Jessica asked. “Is the insurance company going to tell us what to do? I thought it was our decision to make.”
Chief Rhinehardt looked sorry that he had spoken. “Hard to say. Every case is different.” He avoided her gaze, Jessica noticed, and she knew he was trying to be diplomatic.
Jessica took a step toward Sam. She heard a crunch and looked down at her feet. She saw a piece of broken china and picked it up. It took a moment for her to recognize what the fragment had once belonged to, like a piece from a jigsaw puzzle.
Finally, she got it. “The Lenox vase your sister gave us when we got engaged.”
Sam nodded. “Oh. Right.”
Jessica tucked the china fragment in her pocket. With a sinking feeling deep in her chest, she turned to the door, ready to leave. There was nothing more to do.
As she gingerly walked to the door, the fire chief glanced at her. He looked relieved, she thought, to see her giving up. Sam took a moment longer, walking around the room, checking all the charred furniture. He picked out two more pieces and carried them to the door, where Chief Rhinehardt had placed the chair.
Jessica stepped outside and took a deep breath of the cold air. The pungent smell of smoke filled her head again, bringing back memories of their terrifying night.
She felt Sam walk up behind her and put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s pretty bad,” she said. “Worse than I thought. Much worse.”
Sam didn’t answer. “I’m going to take a walk around back with the Chief.”
“I think I’ll stay with Emily. I’ve seen enough for one day,” she admitted.
While Sam walked off with the fire chief, Jessica headed toward her sister and Dan, who stood by the Jeep.
“So . . .” Emily started to speak, but didn’t finish her sentence.
“Everything is ruined. There’s nothing worth saving,” Jessica managed. “We can’t even walk more than a few feet into the parlor. The floor might cave in.”
“A house like that is dangerous,” Dan said. “I’m surprised he let you in at all.”
“Chief Rhinehardt seems to think we should just knock it down. Well, he assumes we will,” Jessica added.
“Oh no . . . really?” Emily looked distressed.
“Maybe you can restore it,” Dan said. “If anyone can do it, Sam can.”
“That’s what he thinks,” Jessica replied quietly.
She felt tears building again, but she was so tired of crying. She shook her head, feeling frustrated and angry. She had woken up this morning with a small spark of hope in her heart. She had truly believed they were going to spend a few hours here, sifting through the rubble and muck, finding bits and pieces of their belongings and putting their life back together again.
But that was not to be. Not today, anyway. She jammed her hands into her jacket pockets, feeling like she might scream.
Emily and Dan cast her sympathetic looks but didn’t say anything. “I’m going to walk down to the pond,” Jessica said, heading off toward the back of the property.
“Want some company?” Emily offered.
“No. I’m okay, thanks. I just want to be alone for a few minutes.”
Emily nodded. She understood.
Jessica turned and tromped through the snow, heading down the gentle slope behind the house that led to a small pond. She found the path and began walking around the pond. Everything was still and quiet. One bird floated slowly on the water without making a sound. The trees and bushes around the pond were bare and the tall marsh grass, dried to a golden color, swayed in the cold breeze.
Jessica remembered the first time Sam had taken her here. It had been a beautiful summer day. Everything was lush and green. The pond was covered with flowering lily pads. It might have started raining—a sun shower? She wasn’t entirely sure.
He brought her into the house first. He had bought it two years earlier but had just started the renovations. It looked a bit of a wreck to her but even then, she could see the potential. They weren’t engaged at that point or even sure they would stay together. She had walked through the house, imagining how it would feel to live there. With him.
When they walked around the pond afterward, Sam had kissed her. Was it the first time? She wasn’t sure now. Silly not to remember something so important. She did remember that kiss, though, and wondering if she was falling in love with him. She had probably already been in love with him, she realized. And fighting it every step of the way.
As if her thoughts had conjured him, her husband suddenly appeared behind her on the path that circled the pond.
“There you are.” Sam caught up to her.
She turned and faced him. “Ready to go?”
He nodded. “I guess.”
“What do you think now? Do you think we’ll have to knock the house down?” she asked bluntly.
Sam looked surprised by her question. “I don’t think so,” he replied in a definite tone. “Rhinehardt’s a good guy, but he doesn’t know that much about building.”
“I was just thinking about the first time you took me here. Do you remember?”
“Sure, I do.” He smiled. “I wanted to show off my house, see if you liked it, show you I could be a responsible guy.”
“Oh, I was very impressed.” He put his hands on her shoulders and she smiled at him.
“Admit it. You married me for the house, Jess,” he teased her.
“I married you in spite of the house. It was a run-down heap,” she reminded him. “But we made it beautiful together.”
Sam’s expression grew thoughtful again. “Yes, we did.”
He pulled her close and she rested her head on his shoulder and hugged him close. It wasn’t the exciting, provocative kiss they had shared here so long ago. A kiss full of passion and questions. It was the familiar embrace of longtime lovers, married partners, sharing the load of their crisis.
Sam comforted her again as she quietly wept in his arms.
“We’ll rebuild the house, Jess. We’ll fix it again, just like it was. I know I can do it.”
Jessica nodded. As they stood at the bottom of the hill and stared up at the charred ruins, she knew in her heart she didn’t believe him. They would never have their house back.
“Why did this happen? Why us, Sam?”
Sam shook his head. “I don’t know, hon. Just a bad break, I guess. Bad things happen sometimes. That’s part of life.”
“It seems so unfair. What did we do to deserve this? It makes me so angry,” she admitted.
Angry at the world, at life in general. Angry at God, she wanted to tell him. But it was hard to say that out loud, even to her husband. Especially to her husband.
“I understand. I’m angry, too, but we have to get through this, Jessica. Being angry doesn’t help. Wringing our hands and saying, ‘poor me’ isn’t going to get us back to normal again. It just makes things worse.”
Jessica didn’t answer. She didn’t feel he really understood what she had meant. That’s the way Sam was. She knew that by now. Her husband had little tolerance for negativity. He swallowed his anger and pushed on. When they had arguments—not often, but all couples did—Sam would usually go outside and chop firewood or stomp off to his workshop and start pounding nails. By the time the disagreement was settled, he would be presenting her with some new piece of furniture.
It was a quality she admired in him most of the time. But just this once, she wished he would rant and rave. She wished he would get mad and let her do the same. She didn’t want to wallow. She just wanted to vent. But she didn’t want to make a scene in front of Emily and Dan, who were already sitting inside the Jeep, waiting for them.
She walked to the car beside Sam, staring down into the snow, matching his step. She felt foolish now, seeing all the rubber buckets and gloves she had thought they would need to salvage their belongings. There was nothing here for her. She wasn’t sure when she’d come back. It wouldn’t be any time soon.
JULIE POURED SOME MORE COFFEE IN JACK’S MUG AND TOOK AWAY A plate full of toast crumbs. “You don’t have many friends, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” Jack admitted. He put aside the phone and the phone book and sipped the hot coffee. “I’ve just sort of . . . lost touch.”
Julie had finally called for a tow truck and packed up her things. The car would take a day or so to be repaired, and he wondered where she and Kate were going to stay. But he forced himself not to get into it with her. She would find someplace, he told himself. It wasn’t any of his business or concern.
She was still insisting he find someone to help him in the house and with the tree lot. Just to compromise, he had made a few calls this morning—real ones, not fake—but he couldn’t find anyone to stop by the house to help him out.
“I can call a service,” he finally said. “I’ll call the doctor and see who he recommends.”
Jack didn’t like the idea of a stranger coming to take care of him. He didn’t even like the idea of someone he knew doing him a favor. But Julie was stubborn. She wasn’t going to leave until she knew he was covered.
“A home health aide, you mean?” She stood at the sink and glanced at him over her shoulder. “They’ll do housework,” she noted. “But I don’t think they’ll sell Christmas trees.”
Not like you, he silently shot back.
She had sold quite a few trees last night. Jack had been impressed but didn’t admit it. He never thought she would last out in the cold, handling the heavy trees, but she’d done fine. She seemed to enjoy it. She was stronger than she looked and friendly to the customers.
“I don’t care about the trees,” Jack insisted. “Let them rot. I’m going to give this place up.”
“You don’t really mean that.” She stood by the sink, drying dishes.
“I do. I shouldn’t have even opened up this year. See what it’s got me?”
She sat down at the table across from him. Kate sat at the far end, working on a picture with her crayons and some sheets of colored paper. Julie picked up a stray crayon and twisted it in her fingers.
A Christmas Star Page 8
