“They’re getting married after the service.”
Bryan pulled up short. “Tomorrow?”
She pursed her lips. At least she wasn’t the only one shocked. “Gram says she wants to make good use of what days she has left.”
He harrumphed and kicked at the ground. “She’s hardly ready to keel over.” He ambled forward, staring at the ground as his brow furrowed. “So what are you going to do now?”
A knot formed in Claire’s stomach. “I…haven’t decided yet.” She’d been trying not to think about it. And tonight wasn’t the time she planned to start. Tomorrow. After the wedding would be soon enough. “Ol’ Mose is coming for breakfast in the morning before we walk over. Will you come to?” She watched him out of the corner of her eye.
“Will Marcus be there?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Said he has too much to do getting the church ready. Even though we’ve already spit-shined the place.”
They were in front of Gram’s house now, and Bryan held out his hand at the base of the steps. She slipped her hand into his, warmth sweeping up her arm.
At the top, he turned her to face him. “That’s too bad. I was hoping I’d have a chance to talk with him. I hear we have a lot in common.”
“Be here at eight then.” She reached up and kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Bryan.”
His “goodnight” followed her inside.
~ ~ ~
Claire settled into the pew between Gram and Bryan. There couldn’t have ever been a day as glorious as this one. From the first rays of the fiery sunrise this morning, she’d had the feeling it would be a new beginning.
As Marcus strode up the center aisle to the front of the church, the set of his broad shoulders sent a rush of pride through her chest. He’d done it. The goal he’d worked so hard for. Her brother had his very own church in this wonderful town.
Standing behind the little pedestal where his Bible rested, Marcus looked out over the crowd. The room was full to capacity, and some men stood along the back wall. Sunday was the one day the mines didn’t run, and even Aunt Pearl had closed down the café to mark this grand occasion.
“I can’t tell you what an honor it is to stand before you all. Many of you I’ve met over the last week, and you can bet I’ll be getting’ to know each of you. I’ll want to hear your stories. What brought you to the place you’re in. So for now…” He clapped a hand over his chest. “I’ll share a bit of mine.”
Marcus went on to tell about his own road to salvation. How he’d accepted Christ as a boy of seven, then spent the next eight years trying to earn his way to heaven.
As Claire listened to the tale she’d heard before, a thought crystalized in her mind. Marcus’s story could almost be Bryan’s if you changed the ages a bit. Bryan was still working himself weary trying to earn his way. Was it just to win the favor of others? Or God’s good will, too? He’d told her about how he became a Christian as a boy. But maybe he, like Marcus, was still trying to earn his way into the free gift he’d already received.
She slipped her hand into Bryan’s, lacing her fingers with his. He gave her a gentle squeeze. Lord, help him see he already has You. Let him feel Your overwhelming love.
“So you see, you don't have to earn God's favor. You can work your whole life to be good enough, but God wants you just as you are. Just as He made you.” Marcus pushed his hands into his pockets and scanned an earnest gaze through the crowd. “For a while I felt guilty about accepting the gift. Not the kind of guilt you have when you’ve done something wrong, like the time I used Mama’s favorite wedding quilt to build a fort after she told me not to.” That got a chuckle from the crowd.
“I’m talking about false guilt. The kind you carry as an extra weight. An unnecessary burden that you just can’t release.” His eyes touched hers. Intentionally? “That burden of false guilt can only be released when you open yourself to the Heavenly Father and let him show you the truth. Then you can move forward clean. A new beginning.”
False guilt. The words radiated through her mind. She closed her eyes, and the dreaded images flashed behind her closed lids. Mandy. Burns and raw skin covering her arms. Tears streaming down her face. The guilt crushing. She’d known Mandy’s stepfather left marks when he “punished” her. The broken arm. The constant bruises. She should have said something. Should have done something. Before it was too late. Before Mandy lay in that bed, disfigured and praying for death.
A squeeze on her hand pushed against the memories. Claire forced open her eyes.
Bryan watched her, concern wrinkling his brow. “Are you okay?” He mouthed the words.
She took in a breath, then released it. Yes. She had to be okay.
~ ~ ~
She was beautiful.
Bryan never took his eyes from Claire, standing beside her grandmother as the wedding ceremony progressed. She took his breath away. The love in her gaze as she watched her grandmother take Mose’s outstretched hand. She poured that same love onto everyone she met. This woman cared about people. Cared enough to take action. To give of herself to make things better for others.
He swallowed. One day, he wanted to be up there, standing across from her in the front of the church. God, what do you think? He let the idea settle over him as he watched Claire through the vows and the final blessing.
After Marcus presented Mr. and Mrs. Moses Calhoun to the crowd, Claire enveloped her grandmother in a hug. People surged around the newlyweds, all laughing and chattering.
Bryan stood but didn’t leave his spot in the pew as he tracked each of Claire’s movements. Lord, please make Your will clear to me.
She extracted herself from the throng of well-wishers and turned to pick her way toward him. Her gaze shone as she met his. But as she came closer, he could tell her smile was a little wobbly.
He held out an arm, and she slipped into it, pressing against his chest as he wrapped her close. There were people everywhere to watch, but he didn’t care. She needed a hug. And holding this woman felt more right than anything he’d done in years.
Chapter Twenty
Bryan nodded at Marcus as the preacher joined them on the lawn about halfway through their picnic lunch. Most attendees had brought food to celebrate the happy couple, and Bryan had kept Claire close as they sat with Miriam and Alex.
“They finally let you stop to eat?” Claire eyed her brother as she sat on the blanket, propped against one hand.
“Are you kiddin’? At every blanket, they piled something new on my plate. I don’t think I’ll need to eat again for weeks.” Marcus rubbed his stomach, then looked over at Bryan. “I like your town. Good people here.”
The swell of pride took him off guard. “Thanks. They are good people. A hard-working lot.”
“I reckon’ we’ll fit in just fine, won’t we, baby sister.” He gave Claire a nudge, then glanced sideways at Bryan. “When Claire was a kid, she used to do her chores, then go over to the neighbor’s house and finish their chores, too. Never did know when to stop, that one.”
Bryan eyed Claire. That pretty pink in her cheeks came from more than just the sunshine. “I think she’s done that a few times lately, too.”
She sat up straighter. “I was just doing what I was asked.”
“Ha.” Marcus turned to Bryan again. “She might have been a hard worker, but doing what she was told was not one of my baby sister’s strong points. Hard-headed.” He shook his head as if she were a hopeless case.
“Hey, now.” Claire’s sassy side reared its head as a twinkle lit her eyes. “At least I wasn’t reckless with everything.” She turned to Bryan with the same conspiratorial tone Marcus had used. “Marc couldn’t look at a tree without climbing it and then jumping from the branches. He’d broken bones fifteen different times before he turned ten. I think that’s why Papa became a doctor. Couldn’t afford to pay someone else to fix all Marcus’s injuries.”
Bryan grinned. These two were quite a pair. He’d been close with Alex and their sister
s, but not with quite the same devotion Claire and Marcus showed. That alone spoke volumes for her older brother’s character.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get to know the man.
~ ~ ~
Later that evening, Bryan stepped into the little back room off the clinic and tossed his hat on a chair back. He glanced around the drab room. So cramped compared to the great outdoors where he’d spent most of the day. If he planned to marry Claire, he’d need to start thinking about better living arrangements.
Claire’s pretty face played through his mind, and Bryan sank onto his bed. She was amazing. Her kindness. The genuine way she cared about others. Her spunk. Her heart.
He dropped his face into his hands. What was he thinking? A woman like that would never think of marrying a curmudgeon like him. God, why did You ever bring her into my life?
God wants you just as you are. The words from Marcus’s sermon rippled through his mind. God didn’t want him the way he was. Not with all the ways he messed up. The way he got so many things wrong. Surely.
Just as He made you. The words sat for several moments in Bryan’s mind before their true meaning began to blossom. God had made him like this. But didn’t God expect him to work to improve himself? My grace is sufficient for you. My strength is made perfect in your weakness. The scripture Marcus had read as he closed the sermon.
Bryan scrubbed a hand over his face, then raised his eyes heavenward, past the wooden timbers lining the ceiling. “Lord, I don’t know what to do with Your grace. How do I live without trying to prove myself?”
No thunderclap. No audible voice from heaven.
Bryan lit a lamp and grabbed his Bible from the shelf. Where had Marcus read that scripture? Second Corinthians, wasn’t it? He flipped there quickly and scanned the pages. Finally, in chapter twelve.
And he said unto me, “My grace is sufficient for thee: for My strength is made perfect in weakness.” Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.
Glory in my infirmities. Now there was a new thought. How freeing would it be to stop trying to make himself what others wanted? Instead, he could focus on doing what he truly loved. Helping patients, yes. Spending time with a lovely young lady? Absolutely.
His eyes found the passage again. “Lord, You’re gonna need a lot of grace to cover my weakness. Help me lean on You. I want to.” Oh, how he wanted to.
Bryan loosened his boots and lay back on the bed, clothes and all. For the first time since he could remember, the weight that pressed down on him…was gone.
~ ~ ~
Something wasn’t right.
Claire pushed herself up in bed and scanned the room. Light filtered in through a window. A window?
That’s right. Her breath leaked out with a whoosh. Marcus’s spare bedroom. She’d officially moved in with Marcus after the wedding festivities so the newlyweds could be alone where Gram would feel most comfortable.
Hair prickled on the back of her neck. Something didn’t feel right. Didn’t…smell right. Then her brain came alive. Smoke.
She threw the covers aside and landed on the floor, running the two steps to the open window that looked out on the west side of town. Nothing unusual that she could see.
Goose prickles skittered across her arms as she dashed out of the bedroom, through the parlor area, and flung open the front door. The smell was stronger now. In the distance, a red glow hung over the eastern side of town, surrounded by a dark haze.
“Marcus!” She sprinted back to her room. “Marcus! The town’s on fire! Get up!”
She threw on a skirt, not even worrying about a shirtwaist. Her nightgown was modest enough to perform the task. As she laced her work boots, the thuds sounded from Marcus tromping through the kitchen.
“I’m going to help put out the fire,” he yelled. “Go check on Gram, then see if you can help the injured.”
“Be careful.”
But he’d already slammed the door.
Blasted boots. She only laced them halfway, then tied them off and lunged for the door herself.
At every house she passed, Claire banged on the door with all her strength. “Fire!” As soon as stirring sounded inside, she moved onto the next. They were only two streets over from Gram’s, and she caught glimpses of the house every so often. The fire wasn’t close yet. It still looked to be farther east. Most likely Elm Street.
Panic welled in her chest. The clinic was on Elm Street. And the café not far from it. Claire sprinted toward Gram’s. She yelled as she ran. Maybe the inhabitants would hear the warning.
Leaping onto Gram’s porch, she banged hard on the door. “Fire! Mose, Gram, get out! There’s a fire.”
It took an eternity as she fought to catch her breath, but she finally heard the bar slide away from the door, and it pulled open.
Ol’ Mose was pulling up a suspender over his shirt. “Where at? Where can I help?”
She was already jogging back down the steps. “Get Gram out of town where she’ll be safe. Maybe take her to the church.”
Claire raised her skirts and sprinted through the alley, stopping at the café to bang on the back door. Would Aunt Pearl hear from her apartment upstairs? “Fire!”
It was only a few seconds before the door yanked open. Aunt Pearl in her usual determined focus. “Grab these pots an’ bring ‘em with us.” She pointed to the row of cookware hanging from hooks on the wall.
Claire clutched one in each hand and another under her left arm. Aunt Pearl held the others.
Together, they hauled the equipment toward the street, heading toward Elm. When they reached the crossroads, Claire froze.
Bright red flames lit the night sky, leaping from building after building like a fiery wall. The roar of the flames filled the air. Crackling.
Her mind spun. Her chest ached, struggling to pull in breaths. Images. Flames. Skin ravaged by the fire.
A hand gripped her arm.
She screamed, jerking backward.
“Claire!” The yell sounded just louder than the noise of the fire.
She forced open her eyes.
Miriam gave her arm a tug. She leaned closer to be heard. “We’re taking the wounded to the grassy area by the church. Can you help spread the word, then meet us there?”
Claire nodded, forcing herself to inhale deep gulps of the smoky air. She had to slow her racing heart. “Are Bryan and Alex both safe?”
“Alex is moving the injured. I think Bryan might be with him.” Miriam gave her arm another squeeze. “Be careful.”
As her friend jogged away, Claire took in the sight one more time. She forced her eyes not to focus on the flame. Wounded. They would need bandages and medicine. The fire was consuming the building next to the clinic. An office of sorts. It didn’t look like the clinic had been touched yet. She sprinted toward it.
At least she could see for herself that Bryan was out.
When she opened the front door, the air was thick and hazy. Dark. She fumbled forward, leaving the door open to allow in moonlight. She’d only been in here that one time with Gram, but she followed the wall toward where she hoped was the hallway.
“Bryan?”
No answer, but she found the door to the examination room. Good. When she pushed it open, light streamed in through the window. A breakfront along the right wall housed all manner of medicines and bandages. She grabbed empty wooden crates from a stack in the corner and started filling them from the cabinet.
“Bryan!”
Still no reply. Thank you, Lord. He’d probably been one of the first helping to put out the fire or clearing victims from their homes. He was the kind of person who would disregard his own safety to help others. Such a good man.
A cough sounded from another part of the clinic. She froze, her heartbeat accelerating again. Surely she’d heard the sound wrong. It had to be noise from the fire outside. Buildings falling or something.
She dropped the crate on the floor and surged
toward the door.
“Bryan!” She screamed his name. Still no reply. Was he lying unconscious?
The smoke was much thicker in the hallway now. Had the fire reached the clinic already? She felt along the walls on both sides. With the darkness and the thick smoke, she couldn’t even see her extended hands. Was this what Gram felt like since she’d lost her sight? Never sure what lay around her? Unnerving was an understatement.
She touched a door on her right, found the latch, and pushed it open. “Bryan!”
Still no answer. With light from the window, this looked like a smaller examination room. A cot rested on the far wall. No one inside.
Where was Bryan? Maybe that cough had been her imagination. Her mind playing tricks. Still. She had to know for sure.
Her nerves wound in knots, and she moved back to the hallway. Her fingers brushed a door on the other side. Pushing it open, hot, acrid outside air rushed in. Must be the back exit.
“Bryan!”
No more doors until she found one at the end of the hall. The handle almost burned her fingers. Hands shaking, she used her skirt to protect her as she turned the knob.
Smoke billowed from the room, blasting Claire in the face. “Bryan!” Coughs caught her, bending her over with their intensity.
Raising her outer skirt to cover her nose and mouth, she forced her way in. Bright red lit the far room. Fire. Moonlight shone through gaps around the leaping flames.
She forced herself to spin around. Couldn’t let the fire paralyze her.
Moving as quickly as she dared, she felt her way along the wall, almost tripping over a chair by the door. Empty space next. Then her toe caught on…a bed.
Her eyes were adjusting to the dim light now. Either that or there were more flames giving off light. Heat radiated on her back through the cotton of her nightshirt.
She ran her fingers along the quilt covering the bed. They struck something. Solid, but not hard. Cloth.
“Bryan?”
A moan sounded from the bed.
Mountain Dreams Series: Books 1 - 3: Mountain Dreams Box Set 1 Page 58
