Refining Fire

by Tracie Peterson

  But I’m not numb. The pain I feel is acute and will not be relieved until I know Thane is safe.

  Militine gritted her teeth and closed her eyes tight. She tried to keep from crying, but tears seeped out all the same. There was a certain kind of despair that came in not knowing the truth one way or another. The waiting and watching left her emotions raw. Over and over the image of Thane being burned alive came to mind. Over and over she fought it off with pleas to God.

  She wandered around the house until she could no longer stand the confinement and then slipped into the gardens just as dawn broke. The world around her was uncanny in its silence. Even the birds were quiet, as if they knew cheerful noise was uncalled for. A smoky haze still hung over the city.

  Militine looked at the abandoned preparations for the ball. Her wedding was to have taken place that evening at the party. She would have married Thane and moved with him to his little apartment. They would have set up housekeeping together and been happy.

  “I know we would have been happy.”

  Stop this. He’s not dead. He’s not.

  She sat down on one of the metal garden benches and began to sob. Her faith was so weak, so fragile in its newness. Did God understand how hard this was? Did He know how much she hurt? How frightened she was?

  She had endured a heinous childhood full of violence and beatings. She’d watched her mother lose the will to live—had lost it herself. She had prayed for death so many times but found herself abandoned even in that. Why would God give her a taste of happiness only to tear it away from her? She buried her face in her hands. It was all so unfair.

  “Militine.”

  At first she thought she’d imagined Thane calling her name, but then she felt his arms enclose her. And he was there, holding her. Just holding her. He smelled of sweat and smoke, but he was there, and she never wanted him to let her go.

  “Don’t cry, my darling. I’m here.”

  She tightened her hold. “I feared the worst.”

  “As did I. And then I knew I had to trust my life to God or go mad.” He stroked her hair until she calmed.

  Pulling away just the tiniest bit, she looked into his face. His skin was blackened with soot and ash, and even his red hair was matted and dark. But none of that mattered. She gazed into his eyes, so thankful that God had brought him back to her.

  “Is it as bad as they said? Hundreds dead—everything gone?”

  “I don’t know about the people. The town is burned to the ground. If we hadn’t had the help of the Tacoma Fire Department and others, we might still be fighting the flames. As it is, everything is still smoldering.” He stood and pulled her to his side. “What about Wade? Abrianna and those girls?”

  “Everyone’s safe.”

  Thane pushed back her hair and took hold of her face. “You were all I could think about. I just knew that God would keep you safe. When I thought my strength might give out, I remembered you would be here waiting.”

  “I kept praying, but I wasn’t even sure I was doing it right.” She shook her head and finally offered him a smile. “I guess in times of trouble maybe God doesn’t need us to have certain words or to be on our knees. He just needs us to trust Him.”

  “I think you’re probably right.” He kissed her then. It was a long and slow kiss, sweet and gentle, just like his spirit. Militine lost herself in the moment and hoped—no, prayed— there would be many more to come.

  A knock sounded at the parlor door a little before ten-thirty. Thane had tried to sleep on the floor, but his concerns for the city weighed heavy on his mind.

  Kolbein stuck his head in the doorway. “Thane, I came for Wade, but learned you were here, as well. I realize you were probably fighting the fire all night, but there’s going to be a meeting of all Seattle businessmen who lost their places—some six hundred, as I hear it. The meeting is being held at the armory. The governor will be there, the mayor and the council, too. I figured Wade would want to be there—you too.”

  “I’m definitely coming along.” He had slept only a few hours, but it was enough. He needed to return in the light of day and see what was left of Seattle.

  “Will you come back and tell us about the meeting?” Mrs. Madison asked. “I want to know if there is anything we might do to help.”

  “I will learn what we can do,” Kolbein assured her.

  Thane and his companions were stupefied by the scene that unfolded as they drew nearer the city.

  “I thought it was bad seeing it all in flames,” Thane murmured. The burnt remains of telephone and telegraph poles still smoldered. They were like tall charred sentinels standing guard amidst the rubble.

  “Someone may get hurt if those brick walls come down,” Wade said, pointing to a precariously balanced wall that stood amidst the rubble.

  For over twenty-five city blocks—a hundred twenty acres—nothing but destruction and lost dreams remained.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Wade murmured. “Never.”

  “Me either,” Thane admitted. Kolbein remained silent, though Thane could see he was just as disturbed.

  The closer they came to the devastated downtown area, the more people they found wandering around in a daze. The National Guard had been assigned posts and guarded the remains of the town from looting and did their best to instruct the lost as to where they might find help.

  “How in the world can we hope to come back from this?” Wade shook his head.

  “It will no doubt take years.” Kolbein’s words echoed Thane’s thoughts.

  Years and years of work would be necessary to clear the debris and rebuild the town. And where would all the money come from?

  As they approached the little church they attended each week, Thane was surprised to see the structure still standing. Pastor Walker was standing on the church’s doorstep preaching to a gathering of victims. Kolbein drew the carriage to a halt.

  “The fires of hell have been unleashed on this sinful generation. God has released His wrath upon you and demands that you turn from your wickedness. Like Sodom and Gomorrah of old, this den of liars, thieves, and murderers has been called to account for its sin.

  “I stood last night at this doorway—this sanctuary of God—and demanded that the fires not touch one stone, and as you can see not one stone has fallen. I stood toe-to-toe with the Devil himself and called him down. I single-handedly saved this church, and now I am calling you to repentance. Repent before it is too late! Repent before God sends another disaster to get your attention.”

  “The way I see it,” Kolbein murmured, “God is the one who saved the building, not Walker.”

  “Is that how God really works, Wade?” Thane wasn’t sure he could abide a god whose idea of grace and mercy was such utter and total destruction. “Is this God’s punishment?”

  Wade seemed to think on the question while Kolbein urged the horse forward. “I know there were times in the Bible where God took a heavy hand with the people. I can’t really say one way or another why this fire came about. The truth is we live in a world that is full of sin and sinners. But I will say this much, the Bible shows that God is love. I believe He loves His children in a never-ending way.”

  “But this isn’t love,” Thane said, sweeping his arm toward the blackened landscape.

  “Sometimes love comes in unexpected ways,” Wade replied. “And sometimes God’s answers come in ways we don’t recognize. I’m not saying this fire is that kind of thing. I’m not saying it isn’t. I won’t try to second-guess God. What I do know is what the Word of God says. ‘That if thou shalt confess with thy mouth the Lord Jesus, and shalt believe in thine heart that God hath raised him from the dead, thou shalt be saved.’

  “Confessing Christ means we have to take a hard look at ourselves first and see what’s alienating us from Him. Our sin nature wants nothing to do with His purity and goodness, but He wants us to repent and be reconciled to Him.”

  “But if God is good and is love like you said, why w
ould He ever let bad things like this happen to us?”

  “He let His own Son go to the cross for us. And Jesus said we’d have a hard time of it here on earth. Most of His disciples were killed for sharing the gospel. Many of His followers, too. These terrible things will go on happening until He returns. All we can do is trust Him and believe.”

  “And still we suffer His wrath?” Thane asked.

  “No. Ephesians five says, ‘Let no man deceive you with vain words: for because of these things cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience. Be not ye therefore partakers with them. For ye were sometimes darkness, but now are ye light in the Lord: walk as children of light.’ We’re children of light, Thane. God’s children. Therefore His wrath isn’t on us and . . . furthermore . . . I believe that verse says that the wrath of God is still to come. All through the New Testament we can see evidence that if we are in Christ, we are no longer to fear God’s wrath.”

  Thane fell silent. It was easy to blame God because He was . . . well . . . God. He had the power to do anything—and to stop anything.

  “This looks like the place,” Kolbein said. People were swarming the area around the armory, and it was almost impossible to get the horse and carriage within a block. Finally Kolbein gave up and tied the horse off. He motioned to a boy of about ten.

  “Will you watch my horse and carriage while we attend the meeting? I’ll pay you a little now and more when I return.”

  The boy’s eyes widened at the sight of a quarter. “Sure, mister. My pa is in that meeting. He told me to stay right here. I ain’t doing nothing else.”

  Kolbein handed him the coin. “Good. Then we will count on you.”

  They worked their way through the crowd and found a place where they could stand. Once gathered with the others, Thane listened to Mayor Robert Moran read a proclamation of disaster.

  “All persons found on the streets of this city after eight o’clock p.m. without the countersign will be arrested and imprisoned. All persons found stealing property or otherwise violating the laws will be promptly arrested, and if resisting arrest will be summarily dealt with.” He paused and looked out over the people gathered there and then lowered his face to read.

  “All saloons in this city are hereby ordered to immediately close and remain closed until further orders, under penalty of forfeiture of their licenses and arrest. No person will be allowed to sell or dispose of any liquor until further orders. Any person found so doing will immediately be arrested and imprisoned.

  “Officers and members of the militia and all policemen are strictly enjoined to enforce the foregoing orders.”

  Next came the governor and his announcement. “I have called out the First Regiment of the Washington National Guard. They will patrol and maintain order to keep the city remains from looting. I’m proud to say that these men took their post only three hours after the start of the fire and will continue until such time as they are no longer needed.”

  Cheers and applause arose from the crowd.

  The mayor reclaimed the podium, and the meeting continued with him posing several important questions. “We will not waste our time on pointing blame on how or why this fire started. That information will come soon enough. Instead, we are a people known for our strength, and we will build again.”

  Thane couldn’t help but get caught up in the enthusiasm of the crowd. The mayor continued. “Therefore, the questions that come first and most important: Do we permit the erection of wooden buildings within the area burned by the fire? And two, should the streets in the burned area be newly platted before rebuilding begins?”

  The room erupted in opinions. Most favored widening and replatting the streets. It had long been a source of frustration to the growing community. Representatives from the fire department declared that wider streets would help considerably in getting to fires more quickly. However, unless the city could do something to improve the waterlines, it wouldn’t matter.

  The issue of brick versus wood buildings set the people arguing for quite a while. Many held that the fire would not have been nearly so devastating had the buildings been of brick or stone. Others argued about the high price of brick, but the price, someone pointed out, had been paid in last night’s fire.

  “I don’t know that I even plan to rebuild,” one outspoken man declared. A good number of his companions agreed.

  “Might as well leave it to someone else.”

  Many of the businessmen stated that they were through with Seattle. Leaving seemed to be a better alternative to starting over. Obviously distressed, the former governor, Watson C. Squire, rose to offer words of encouragement. “Let me say first that I believe a committee should be formed to look after the poor and suffering. Furthermore, I will start a subscription drive with a donation of five-hundred dollars.”

  The crowd clapped wildly, but the former governor motioned them to calm.

  “That said, I recognize there is a great deal of discouragement among some here, and they would give up on our fair city. However, let me say that although I have only a few hundred dollars in the bank, my credit is good, and I’ll rebuild on every foot of my ground that was burned.” He took his seat amidst a roar of enthusiasm while another man came to the podium.

  It was time to put their thoughts into action. G. Morris Haller began, “I move that the fire limits remain as they now are, and that no wooden buildings be erected therein by permit or otherwise. All in favor?” The ayes rang out in a thunderous confirmation. Only a few protested.

  Additional appointments for relief committees and one to help the council replat the city kept the crowd buzzing. It seemed that most everyone agreed with the thoughts of their council, including ideas to raise Front Street by building over the wreckage of the fire. The steep grade had always been an issue, and by burying what had once been there and erecting new buildings atop, they would reduce that grade considerably.

  As Thane wearied of the meeting and thought to excuse himself, the last order of business was declared. The president of the Board of Trade, George B. Adair, was introduced. “Many of you know that I was the chairman of the committee to collect funds for the sufferers of the Johnstown, Pennsylvania, flood that took place last week. As you also know, the flood caused over two thousand deaths and left many homeless. The good citizens of Seattle raised over five- hundred dollars for this cause, and I now ask if this should be kept for local sufferers? Or should we send it on to the folks in Johnstown?”

  The immediately response spoke volumes of the spirit of Seattle. “Send it away! Send it to Johnstown!”

  Thane smiled despite his exhaustion. Sometimes the goodness of folks amazed him. He had known so much ugliness and selfishness throughout his life that to see the love and giving of these people was humbling. Maybe there was hope for this world after all.

  24

  In the week that followed, activities at the bridal school did not change much, except the production of goods focused on benefiting the homeless of Seattle rather than making sales for the school. Abrianna loved the chance to minister to so many people. God had called her to this work, and she answered. Aunt Miriam declared they would supply as many blankets and articles of clothing as could be made by the school. They would also furnish food from their gardens and animals and other supplies. So long as they had anything to their names, they would help the homeless of Seattle.

  “Just look at what the paper has to say today, Sister,” Aunt Poisie announced. “The U.S. Army has sent a hundred fifty four-man tents from Fort Vancouver and Fort Walla Walla. The Tacoma Relief Committee has provided cots in two large downtown tents, where people will sleep at night and eat during the day. I find that quite industrious.” She looked to Selma and Abrianna. “Don’t you?”

  “Oh, indeed,” Aunt Selma replied. “I never had much good to say about Tacoma. They have often been a thorn in the side of our good city, but their help in our time of need has been quite amazing. Perhaps they aren’t the rapscallions that we were
led to believe.”

  “Perhaps they have had a change of heart,” Aunt Miriam commented. She looked up from her sewing. “After all, it could just as easily have been their city.”

  “It’s true,” Aunt Selma said. “The mayor said that the fire was started because of a glue pot being neglected. A Swedish man was involved, as I understand it.”

  “Oh, a Swede. That may explain a great deal,” Aunt Poisie said.

  “Goodness, Sister, whyever would you say that?”

  Abrianna found herself curious at this. Aunt Poisie looked rather remiss, as though she had committed some kind of social faux pas.

  “I was thinking of the language barrier. Perhaps the man spoke only Swedish. Perhaps he was new to this country and the job.” Aunt Poisie cocked her head to one side and looked thoughtful. “Do they even have glue in Sweden? Perhaps he was told to attend it and hadn’t been trained properly.”

  “I am certain they have glue in Sweden, Sister. However, no matter that, the paper said the glue ignited and then water was thrown onto it.” Aunt Miriam shook her head. “That only served to spread it.”

  “Well, Swedes do have all that water surrounding them. He might well have thought it the cure.”

  Aunt Selma put aside her knitting. “I hate that everything is in ruins. Nothing looks right or smells right. The days have been so dry and warm. Nothing like they should be. I fear we may well see additional fires, and then what will we do? What if this place were to burn?”

  “I could not live in a tent with other people.” Aunt Poisie looked quite disturbed. “I would be most uncomfortable. After all, what if a man . . . were to . . . take advantage?”