Spirit of the Valley

by Jane Shoup

  She pushed through the group and dropped to her knees at his side. Her jaw went lax and she uttered a terrible sound because, after all the waiting and worrying and praying, he was dead. He was deathly pale, covered in gray ash and soot, his eyes slightly open. Then his eyes moved—his gaze fastened on hers. She gasped, blinked tears away, and saw his chest move. She cried out and threw herself over him. “You’re alive, you’re alive, you’re alive.” She couldn’t stop saying it.

  Jeremy felt hot tears slide from his eyes and trail down the sides of his face. His fingers circled her waist.

  Lizzie pulled back to look at him more closely. He was conscious, breathing, no broken bones or head injury that she could see. She took his face in her hands. “Thank God. Oh, thank God.”

  He looked around at the many faces around him, most of whom had tears in their eyes, and knew it was a good day to be alive.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Jeremy didn’t understand why he was so weak, but when he was helped to his feet, he nearly collapsed. With the aid of a man on each side of him, he walked toward April May’s wagon, but he came to a halt at the sight of the devastation before him. There was no more breaker. Nothing but a smoldering, blackened pile of debris. He saw the row of corpses. “How many?” he asked in a raspy voice.

  “We don’t know yet,” one of the men said sorrowfully. “But it’s bad.”

  They urged him on and he went. He didn’t want to get a closer look at the dead. He didn’t have the strength for it. Lizzie was at his side, watching him worriedly, and he focused on her instead. She loved him and he loved her. He’d survived. That’s all he would think about for the moment.

  He was helped into the wagon and Lizzie followed and placed a blanket over his lap. April May climbed into the driver’s seat, then reached over and kissed his cheek. “Welcome back,” she said. As she turned the wagon around, he stared at the rescue operation and the obliteration of Number Six. He was staring right at it and he still didn’t comprehend it. Lizzie had an arm around him, but it was apparent she didn’t know what to say. None of them did. “How many made it out alive?” he asked, breaking the silence.

  “A dozen or more so far,” April May replied hesitantly. “And hopefully there’ll be more.”

  A dozen. There were at least sixty men per shift, not to mention the breaker boys. “Did any of the boys from the breaker make it out?”

  “No,” Lizzie replied quietly. “I’m so sorry.” She hugged him closer.

  “You’ll be coming to our house,” April May said. “Until you recover.”

  Lizzie leaned forward to look at April May with a puzzled frown. “He can stay—”

  “At our place,” April May interrupted. “People are going to be checking on him and y’all don’t need any sort of controversy just as you start a life together.”

  Maybe the statement shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. To hear it stated out loud as if it was a simple fact that everyone knew? Jeremy looked at Lizzie and tears were pooled in her eyes.

  “That is, if you still want to marry me,” she said.

  If. She’d said if. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You know I do.”

  April May slung an arm around his shoulders. “Oh, my boy. The good Lord has plans for you. That’s what I think.”

  What a thought that was. The sky was suddenly bluer than he’d ever seen it. Leaves on the trees were nothing short of glorious in reds and golds and oranges. Had they been that colorful before? He could feel the love and concern that surrounded him.

  When they drove up the long driveway of the Blues’ farm, Rebecca and Jake, who had been sitting on the front porch with Lucky, jumped up and came running. Jeremy had only just made it down from the wagon when a crying Rebecca launched herself into his arms. Deeply surprised and touched, he dropped to a knee and held her tightly. “I’m all right,” he assured her.

  “We th-thought you died.”

  Jake reached him and Jeremy opened his other arm to allow him into the embrace. They’d be filthy afterwards, but no one seemed to care. “Everything is all right.” Even Lucky, Wags, and Sheeba wanted in. April May had her arm around Lizzie, watching, and Cessie was hurrying to join them. Like the others, she was crying and laughing at the same time.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  “Tommy?” Em murmured. She sat up from a restless sleep and looked around, sensing he’d just been there. He’d been working in the rescue effort, as had the rest of the crew, as well as Doll. Doll had returned and shared her experience, including the way the men were pushing themselves. That wasn’t a surprise to Em. She knew her husband.

  She rose and stepped out into the parlor, noticing the light from the nursery in the loft. She went upstairs and looked in the baby’s room, where Tommy was silhouetted against the backdrop of the window. He was holding the baby, rocking her gently. Em crossed the room, pressed herself to his back and wrapped her arms around him, content to move with his motion and say nothing.

  “I almost went to work in the mine,” he said quietly.

  She reached up and stroked the base of his neck.

  “It’s why my brother and I came to Green Valley.”

  “I know.”

  “Those men didn’t do anything wrong. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  The toll the last two days had taken on him was evident. “You’re exhausted.”

  He nodded. “But all I wanted was to get home and hold her. And you.”

  “Come get some sleep.”

  He shifted the baby to his chest and pressed a kiss to her soft, dark curls, then laid her back down in her crib. Em massaged his shoulders and felt the tension and the weariness in his muscles. He turned to her and wrapped her in his arms, and she realized it was going to be a while before they slept. He had a need more pressing than rest.

  Chapter Forty

  Cessie walked into the kitchen and put an apron on, then glanced out the kitchen window, blinking in surprise to see Jeremy standing at the fence watching the mules. It was early, not even seven in the morning. She made coffee and sliced some of the coffee cake Lizzie had made the night before. It was delicious, made with cinnamon and brown sugar and walnuts. She put on a coat and walked out with a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of cake. “’Morning,” she called.

  He turned to her. “Good morning.”

  She reached him and handed him the coffee. “Brought you some breakfast. I’ll make you some oats or sausage and eggs, whatever your heart desires, but I thought you might enjoy this first.” She set the small plate on the fence post.

  “Thank you.”

  “I didn’t expect you’d be up so early.”

  “I’m going to help at the mine today. Do whatever I can.”

  Cessie frowned worriedly. “Are you well enough for that?”

  “I’m all right.”

  She gave him a look.

  “I’ve gotta help.”

  She nodded slowly. “I understand. I’m not sure Lizzie will.”

  “Is she here?”

  “No. They went home.”

  “Well, dang if it ain’t a party,” April May called.

  Jeremy and Cessie glanced back at her as she walked toward them.

  “Eggs and sausage, then,” Cessie said to Jeremy. “You’ll need your strength.”

  “That would be good. Thank you.”

  She patted his arm and started back to the house.

  “No need to run off just because I showed up,” April May said, passing her. “Although I am famished.”

  “It’ll be ready soon,” Cessie replied.

  April May reached him and lifted her mug to him. “You’re up and about awful early.”

  “I’m going to the mine to help.”

  “Yeah. Figured you might be. I’ll go, too.” She looked out at the mules and sipped her coffee. “You remember that fella?” she said, pointing at one.

  “I do,” he said, although, in truth, it looked no d
ifferent from the others.

  “Moe. That’s what I named him.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yep. Named him that because no matter what you give him, he wants mo’.”

  Jeremy grinned.

  “It’s one fine morning, ain’t it?” April May said, looking around.

  He nodded. “I couldn’t wait to get outside.”

  “I’ll bet. I can’t even imagine what it was like down there, and I’ve been in the mine.”

  He looked out at the mountains in the distance. “This was different,” he said quietly.

  “You know you don’t ever have to go down there again. But that doesn’t mean the nightmares won’t come.”

  He nodded and she reached over to squeeze his arm before starting back to the house.

  Lizzie stared at the vines, wondering what more to prune. They were intricate and very green. Very alive. The fact was, she couldn’t decide where to cut because she was having trouble concentrating—and she was having trouble concentrating because she was frustrated. April May meant well, but Jeremy should be here, where she could take care of him.

  “Just tell her so,” Lionel said.

  Lizzie turned to face him where he sat on his favorite chair, a wide-brimmed hat on his head to block the sun from his face. He had a glass of wine in hand, and a bottle rested on the table next to a pipe that was still smoking. The fragrance of it reached her and it was surprisingly pleasing. “You’re here,” she remarked.

  “Of course. Where else would I be?”

  She felt confusion, which quickly became panic. If Lionel had come back, did she have to leave?

  He waved off the notion, although she hadn’t spoken it aloud. “Come sit and have some wine. You worry too much.”

  It was true. If she hadn’t worried about what other people thought, she would have agreed to marry Jeremy when he’d asked. She could have insisted he leave the mine, and then he wouldn’t have come close to dying in that terrible place.

  “You shouldn’t fret so much, Lizzie,” Lionel said, lifting his glass to her. The red wine caught the afternoon light and shone like a ruby.

  She woke with a gasp, the image fresh in her mind’s eye. She looked around the moonlight-dappled room, aware that the scent of a pipe was in the air. It quickly faded, but it had been there. She stared at the ceiling, her eyes wide, her skin covered in goose bumps. She wasn’t frightened as much as startled and energized. “You’re right,” she whispered. Less worrying. More action.

  More living.

  Rebecca walked into the kitchen, blinking in surprise at the table filled with muffins. She looked decidedly grumpy. “Jake wet the bed again,” she said disgustedly. “It got on me.”

  Lizzie turned and handed her a plate. “Fortunately,” she replied calmly, “we have a wonderful bathhouse where you can clean up before school. In the meantime, why don’t you pick out your breakfast?”

  Rebecca surveyed the choices. Apple cinnamon, honey bran, and blueberry. “Why did you make so many?”

  “I’m going to offer them to the stores.”

  “Today?” Rebecca asked as she picked out a blueberry muffin with crumbly brown sugar on top.

  Lizzie nodded and sat with a cup of tea. She reached for a muffin. “No more putting it off. All they can do is tell me no if they don’t want them, right?” She took a sip of her tea and added another spoonful of sugar to it.

  “I don’t want to sleep with Jake anymore,” Rebecca complained irritably. She bit into her muffin, but continued to frown.

  Lizzie set her spoon on her saucer with a soft sigh. “It’s a very important job, being an older sister. I hope you realize that. Jake’s had a difficult time with . . . everything. It’s been scary. That’s why he sometimes wets the bed.” She paused. “I think you know how much he loves you. He takes everything you say to heart. So please, don’t make him feel worse than he already does.”

  Rebecca made a face, but her mother had gotten through to her. “I just wish I could have my own room,” she muttered.

  “You will. One day soon.” Rebecca looked at her suspiciously and Lizzie nodded. “I promise.”

  Rebecca went back to eating. “Jake wishes you’d marry Jeremy,” she said moments later without looking up. In fact, she was studying her muffin intently, as if counting each blueberry.

  “I want that, too,” Lizzie replied carefully.

  Rebecca looked at her. “Do you love him?”

  Lizzie nodded. “I do.” As Rebecca considered the reply, Lizzie rose. “I forgot to get your milk,” she said as she went to the icebox.

  “Would I have to call him papa?”

  “No,” Lizzie replied evenly. “No one will make you. That would be up to you.”

  Rebecca shrugged. “Jake would like it.”

  Lizzie walked back with the glass of milk and sat. “I’d like to know how you feel.”

  “Mama?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did Papa always hit you?”

  It took Lizzie a few moments to find her voice. “No,” she said softly with a shake of her head.

  “Did you love him?”

  “To be perfectly honest, I’ve wondered that, too.”

  “How do you not know?”

  “Well, I was young when we met and a lot changed over the time we were married.” She looked far away for a moment. “I feel like I was someone else then.”

  Rebecca grinned. “Because you were.”

  Lizzie laughed, but her smile slowly vanished. “May I ask you something?”

  Rebecca nodded.

  “Do you think about your father?”

  Seconds of silence ticked by. “Yes.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  Rebecca’s expression darkened before she shook her head resolutely. “I will never miss him.”

  Lizzie felt stunned by the virulence of the answer.

  Rebecca’s face suddenly fell. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

  “It’s all right,” Lizzie assured her.

  “Do you think I’m a bad person?”

  “Oh, honey.” Lizzie grabbed her up and pulled her close. “No! Oh, no. You’re strong and such a good big sister and the most wonderful daughter.” Rebecca was clinging and crying—not at all like her, and so Lizzie held her even tighter. “It sometimes scares me how wonderful you and Jake are. How much I love you. I feel I haven’t done anything good enough in life to deserve you.”

  Rebecca shook her head. “That’s not true.”

  “I’ll stop thinking it, then.” Lizzie pressed a kiss to her head. “And you never, ever entertain that thought again. You are a good person. Loving and strong and smart. I wouldn’t change anything about you. I love you so much.”

  “I love you, too,” Rebecca said brokenly.

  Lizzie held her until the tension relaxed from her child’s body. “You have a new dress to wear today.”

  Rebecca sat up with a grin on her face. “You finished it?”

  Lizzie nodded. “It’s in my room.”

  Rebecca popped up and hurried from the room, passing a sleepy-looking Jake, who’d put on clothes, although they were crooked. He looked abashed. Actually, Lucky did, too. He’d followed Jake in, as usual, since he’d taken to sleeping in their room. She hoped she didn’t have one of his messes to clean up, as well. “Come have some breakfast,” she said. “Then I thought I’d start some laundry, wash all our bed clothes today, and then we’ll walk Rebecca to school. What do you think of that?”

  He nodded soberly and then walked to the table. “That’s a lot,” he said as he looked over the array of muffins.

  “I know,” she said as she got up to fetch him a plate and a glass of milk. “We’re going to the stores in town to see if they want them.”

  “Mama?”

  Lizzie turned to him.

  “Is Jeremy coming home soon?”

  Lizzie smiled. “I’m going to have that very discussion with him today. Tell him that we want him to come home.”

 
; Jake nodded. “Lucky misses him.”

  Rebecca handed Jake his plate and set his glass of milk on the table. “C’mon, Lucky,” she called, as she crossed to the door to let him out. The dog hopped out obediently, and the sight tugged on Lizzie’s heartstrings. “Good boy,” she said as she opened the screen door for him.

  The morning was cold, but beautiful. The deep red leaves on the trees particularly stood out, and she was reminded of the red of Lionel’s wine in her dream. She was suddenly filled with so much gratitude, she couldn’t hold it in. “I love this place,” she whispered, knowing somehow that he understood her. I love it and I’m going to live my life here as it’s best for us. No more fear. It was funny how much the dream experience had affected her. That’s what she was thinking as she opened the door again for Lucky and followed him back inside.

  Jake had nearly finished a blueberry muffin. He had a smear of blueberry at both sides of his mouth. “I’m going to start the water for laundry. Would you mind getting your bed covers and putting them in the tub when you’re finished?”

  His eyes widened momentarily and he shook his head.

  Rebecca came into the room in her new dress. Lizzie had known it would fit; Rebecca had tried it on enough times as Lizzie sewed, but it looked wonderful, and Rebecca was obviously delighted with it. “I love it,” Lizzie said.

  “Me too.” Rebecca whirled about and then did an elaborate curtsy.

  Lucky let out a strange-sounding whine, which was all the noise he ever made, and his tail wagged. “And Lucky loves it, too,” Lizzie said. They all laughed.

  “Marie,” Heidi said, shaking her awake.

  Marie turned and blinked in confusion. It was early—too early.

  “Walt’s here,” Heidi said. “He wants to see you for a minute.”

  “Wha—” Marie croaked. “What time is it?”

  “Seven. In the morning,” she added, when Marie continued to look baffled.

  Marie sat, huffing her displeasure, but the event was strange enough that she was awake. Heidi was still in her robe, but she looked wide-awake and refreshed. Marie knew damn well she herself looked anything but.