Mountains of Grace

by Kelly Irvin

  “Juliette!”

  “You are turning the prettiest shade of red, girl.” Juliette laughed. She had a big laugh for a small woman. “There’s no shame in wanting to kiss a man before you marry him. What if he slobbers all over you? A woman needs to know. It’s called compatibility.”

  “I can’t talk about this.” Mercy really couldn’t. Thinking about it embarrassed her. Say the words aloud and she would melt into a puddle on the ground. “He probably thought he was being considerate.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t have any experience and he doesn’t know how to get started. You could start and let him follow.”

  “We don’t do that.” At least she didn’t think so. Her mother never talked about it. They learned that physical love was between a husband and a wife. To do otherwise was to sin. How couples got from point A to point B before marriage wasn’t clear.

  “It could be that Caleb is something special. Really special.” Juliette’s voice quivered. Mercy peered through the dusk, trying to see her friend’s face. Juliette looked away. “The physical stuff is overrated. A man who’s willing to wait is special. Maybe Caleb has a hard time expressing his feelings. Some people do.”

  Juliette rarely strung ten serious words together. Something about Caleb had touched a painful chord in her heart. Mercy sought a way to take that road with her. “Is something wrong? You seem . . . sad.”

  “Life is too short for sad. Caleb’s world is turning to ash and he’d like to go down in flames with his honey.” Juliette tugged her phone from her pocket and studied it again. “He’s regretting not getting a kiss or two, that’s all.”

  Juliette was back. No point in trying to drag anything out of the queen of stubborn. If Caleb’s feelings were locked up like prisoners in a county jail, Juliette’s were in a vault in her own personal bank. “Call Tim.”

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  “He’s working. Besides, I don’t really care if he calls or not.”

  Her attempt at nonchalance was pitiful.

  They sat quietly then, staring up through the willow and birch trees at a sliver of moon that cast fleeting shadows between wind-driven clouds. “I can still smell the smoke,” Juliette whispered. “Am I crazy?”

  Mercy studied the branches that bent and bowed in the wind. “Not crazy. I don’t think we’ll ever get the smell out of our clothes.”

  “Or our noses.”

  They laughed together.

  Her eyes burned—from exhaustion and smoke, not tears. Mercy ran her thumb over a black smudge on her apron. “I’m so happy Daed, Abraham, Moses, and Seth are okay.”

  “Everyone got out okay, except Dillon Rodgers and his boys. And Andy Martin and Chris Sandalwood. They all refused to leave.”

  “A few of the Plain men stayed behind too.” Mercy bit her lip. Don’t ask, don’t ask, don’t ask. “Do you know a man named Spencer McDonald?”

  “Oh, wow, I haven’t heard that name in forever.” Her face gleeful, Juliette clapped like she had a new pair of cowboy boots. “Spence. He was a senior when I was a freshman in high school right here in Eureka. He was a hottie. That seems like a hundred million years ago. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” A hottie. Sorry, Gott, but she’s right. Mercy leaned back and stared at the sky. “He was at the church. Tim didn’t seem to like him much. He said he was trouble. How does he know Spencer? I thought he grew up in Libby.”

  “Tim’s parents are divorced. His mom lives in Libby and his dad used to live in Eureka when Tim was a kid. He’s somewhere in Missoula or Helena now, I forget which. Anyway, he and his sisters split their time between the two for a while. He went to school here some.”

  Divorce was an alien concept. To have parents who didn’t live together or even see each other must be hurtful for a child. Vows were for life. Another reason to enter into them with great forethought. “Did you know Tim then?”

  “He was a junior when I was a sophomore.” Juliette’s giggle turned into a full-on laugh.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “It’s not funny really. I shouldn’t laugh. At the time everyone did, though.” She turned her phone over so the sparkly purple case shone in the porch light. “He asked me to go to a dance with him once.”

  “Why is that funny?”

  “Before I could answer, he barfed all over my bowl of chili and the cinnamon roll on my tray in the cafeteria.”

  Mercy’s mom always said to walk a mile in the other person’s shoes. If she’d been born a boy, would she have the guts to ask a girl out? Never. Mercy’s heart thumped in a painful one-two-three beat. Romance didn’t openly blossom in her classroom, but that didn’t mean feelings didn’t sometimes spill out among the older students during recess or lunch. Plain teenagers were taught to be respectful of others’ feelings, but they were teenagers. “Poor thing. I could never go back to school if that happened to me.”

  “It was awful, but you know how kids are. Everyone in the cafeteria thought it was the funniest thing since farts.” Juliette rubbed her already-red eyes. “They didn’t have barf all over the front of their shirt. It stank. I almost hurled myself. I had gym fourth period so my teacher let me shower.”

  Kids could be meaner than rabid raccoons. “What did he do?”

  “He ran out of the cafeteria. He never talked to me again.”

  It seemed easier to speak of these things in the dark in a strange place on a strange day. Juliette wasn’t like Nora and Christine. She’d been to college in Missoula. She’d dated lots of men there. “Are you going to marry him?”

  “Probably not. He won’t ask.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s an old-fashioned guy. He says we’re unevenly yoked. Who even talks like that anymore?” Juliette plucked at a thread on her denim shorts. “No offense. Besides you guys, I mean.”

  Tim was a smart man, even if it hurt Juliette’s feelings. “You grew up going to church. Don’t you believe in God?” Mercy hesitated. Her community didn’t talk much about these things. Their faith focused more on how they lived than what they believed. Despite having been baptized, she wasn’t always convinced of God’s presence. Sorry, Gott. “Don’t you believe God has a plan for you?”

  “Streets of gold and pearly gates and a sixteen-year-old virgin who gives birth to the Son of God? Why would I find that hard to believe?” Despite her sarcasm, Juliette sounded wistful. “I went to Sunday school and vacation Bible school and youth group and on mission trips and all that stuff. Then I stopped going. When I went to college, no one could nag me about not going. It was a relief.”

  One of the reasons Plain families didn’t want their children straying far from home. It was too easy to be sucked in by worldly temptations. What would it be like to not go to church on Sunday morning? Not to pray before and after meals and at bedtime? A person would have a lot of free time. “Don’t you miss it?”

  Him. Didn’t she miss Him. Gott.

  Juliette grabbed a handful of her long, shiny hair and braided it with deft fingers. “I miss certain people. And I hate the way my dad looks at me on Sunday morning when he comes back from church and sees me sitting in my pj’s at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the funnies.” Her fingers faltered. “It would be nice to think there’s a God who cares about what happens to me, but I just spent four years getting a degree in communications and marketing. I’ve sent my résumé everywhere. You know how many job offers I’ve received?”

  “None?”

  “Bingo. You know how many interviews I’ve done?”

  “None?”

  “Two, and neither place has called me back.”

  “And that’s Gott’s fault?”

  Juliette’s laugh had a bitter sound. “According to my dad, it’s my fault. He says I should’ve looked at the job market when I chose my major. He says teachers get jobs—that don’t pay squat—and the medical professions like doctors and nurses are needed. My mom wanted me to be a nurse. Can you imagin
e me as a nurse? I hate needles and blood and vomit and bodily functions. Plus, my bedside manner sucks.”

  Juliette was as brutally honest about her own faults as she was about those of other people. One of the traits Mercy liked about her. She spoke her mind when Mercy couldn’t get up the nerve. “I like teaching. At the end of the day, I feel like I’ve accomplished something.” Even though she longed for adult conversation some days. “At the end of the school year, that something really adds up when you have twenty-seven students.”

  “Honey, you were made to be a teacher. Me, my best talent is talking.”

  “Teachers talk.”

  “To little kids.”

  The screen door banged behind them. Mercy swiveled. Mother stood on the porch, her arms wrapped around her middle. “Aren’t you two coming in? I saved some hamburgers and cottage fries for you.”

  “Thanks, Elsie, but my stomach is cranky today.” Juliette blew Mother a kiss. “You’re sweet to ask.”

  “I’m not hungry, but danki.” Mercy slid from the truck bed and dusted off her hands. Mother lingered at the door for a second, then disappeared again. She probably felt as discombobulated as Mercy did. “Do you want to come in for a glass of tea at least? We have ice.”

  It felt strange to invite Juliette into her own grandmother’s house. “I mean—”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Juliette hopped down. “It’s getting late and I know you guys get up at the crack of dawn. I should head back to Aunt Tina’s before Dad comes looking for me. You’d think I was still a high school kid.”

  Without thinking, Mercy wrapped her friend in a quick, hard hug.

  “Hey, what’s that all about?” Juliette grabbed Mercy’s arms and gave her a once-over look. “Are you sick?”

  Embarrassment burned through Mercy. Maybe she was sick. “I’m glad you’re okay, that’s all. Everything is so—”

  “Up in the air?” Wincing, Juliette rubbed her stomach. “My dad says change is good. But what does he know?”

  She laughed. Mercy forced a smile.

  They were about to find out.

  11

  Libby, Montana

  One more extra-large Styrofoam cup of Pepsi and Tim could catapult from a cliff and fly. He clomped into his home base at the Lincoln County Sheriff’s Office with the sweating cup in one hand and his cowboy hat in the other. Could it still be the same day? Rising before dawn. Miles driven to and from towns in the county. Evacs. Juliette with her full lips and piercing stare. His shirt stuck to his back. His boots weighed thirty pounds each. His eyes felt like dirty, dried-up cotton balls.

  The drab tan room, crowded with desks, was a beehive of activity despite the late hour. Deputy Sal Quinones stood at maps taped to one long wall pointing at Kootenai National Forest. Deputy Kimberly LaFortune nodded as she rewound her jet-black hair into its usual bun. She removed a bobby pin from her mouth and jabbed it into the bun.

  “You made it.” Emmett held a sheaf of papers in one hand and a Grizzlies mug in the other. Coffee spilled on the laminate flooring as he lumbered toward Tim. “Want some mud? I just made a fresh batch.”

  Tim held up his twenty-ounce cup. “I’m good.”

  “Gotta pick your poison, I reckon.” Emmett shrugged. “Let’s huddle up, guys.”

  No matter how many women served as deputies, they were all guys to Emmett, who treated everyone the same, like the high school football team captain he’d been twenty-five-plus years ago. He shoved aside a stack of folders on Sal’s desk and perched his backside on the corner. “Let’s make this quick. By daylight, it’s likely we’ll be doing evacs for the West Fork and Gibralter fires. I’ve got the dispatchers standing by for the Code Red notification.

  “The mayor is working on getting the high school ready to open first thing in the morning to serve as a shelter. The Emergency Operations Center will be open in a couple of hours in the Ponderosa Room at the city building. Police, fire, USFS, the county commissioners, PIO, Fish and Game, etc., will have reps there.”

  “Emmett, we’ve all got family—”

  “I want each of you to take fifteen minutes as soon as we’re done here to call your family, friends, significant others—whoever you need to talk to.” Emmett cut Sal off with a firm but sympathetic look. “I got family too, guys, I know this is tough. Do what you’ve gotta do, but remember, your job is to keep everyone safe, not just the people you care about.”

  “What about the Caribou Fire?” Kimberly threw out the question amid the murmur that spread through her colleagues. “We don’t have the resources to evacuate around three fires at the same time.”

  “Up north, we’ve got ICE, Border Patrol, reserve deputies, police, and volunteer fire as well as USFS.” Emmett reeled off the agencies with the practice of a man who had to please constituents and politicians on a regular basis. “It’s all hands on deck for every agency, not just us.”

  “What about community meetings?” Tim worked to keep his tone neutral. Emmett had underplayed his own concerns, and everyone in the room knew it. The sheriff’s mother was just out of the hospital after a bout with pneumonia. His brother suffered from bipolar disorder and couldn’t be trusted to stay on his meds. “Do you need some help covering those?”

  Emmett took a long sip of his coffee. It dribbled down the front of his shirt, joining dry sweat stains. “Yeah, I do. Thanks. We’ve got one at the high school here in town coming up. There’s another at the high school in Eureka. I expect I’ll need to go to that one.”

  “Why that one?”

  “Got word a few hours ago from the USFS IC that at least thirty structures in Kootenai burned this afternoon. Right after we got people out.”

  Tim’s gut knotted. He closed his eyes for a second. God, You reign. Your ways are not our ways. He opened his eyes. “Homes?”

  Juliette’s home, lovingly constructed by Lyle and his family and friends.

  “At least ten. We don’t know which ones right now, but you can be sure the word will spread quickly. One way or another, folks will want back in there as soon as possible.”

  “When will that be?”

  “We’ll know more tomorrow.” He settled the coffee mug on Sal’s desk and glanced at the papers in his hand. “Day shift guys, you need to go home and grab a few hours’ shut-eye. Kim and Sal, you head to Rexford and then on to Eureka. Make sure everyone understands there’s no going home until we give the word.”

  He went down the list assigning officers to the shelters and to the roads that led in and out of evacuated areas. In the case of Kootenai, access was limited to one road.

  Tim waited until the group dispersed to follow Emmett into his office. A large framed photo of his ex-wife, Colleen, and the kids hung on the wall over his head. The divorce had taken them all by surprise, but none more than Emmett, who assumed his wife had accepted his long hours and inability to sleep as part of the territory. Emmett plopped in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.”

  “You should listen to your own orders.” Tim glanced over his shoulder. The hum of the beehive had resumed. “You sure you don’t want to take your parents to Polson now rather than waiting until the evac comes down?”

  “Paul can keep an eye on them for now. He’s on his meds.” Emmett scratched at his orangey-red five o’clock shadow. “What about you? Have you talked to your mom?”

  “No.”

  “You’ll hate yourself if you don’t.”

  “And I’ll hate myself if I do.”

  They commiserated in silence for a few minutes. “It took us way longer to get those folks out of Kootenai than it should have.”

  What was really bothering the man? “It’s to be expected when you’re dealing with people who have no phones.”

  “I pulled into Jonah Yoder’s yard and they were still trying to set up sprinklers.”

  “They work hard for what they have.”

  “The fire was on top of them.”

  “We evacuated almost
four hundred people in twenty-four hours. That’s pretty darn good. Even the Forest Service couldn’t have predicted the fire would cover two miles yesterday and another four today.” Everything IC Mark Stover told Tim at the command center in Libby bubbled up. Emmett already knew it, but sometimes it helped to have someone reiterate the facts. “The control lines did nothing. Neither did the patches of forest that had been cleared. Between the dry conditions and the winds, everyone did what they could.”

  “Tell that to the people who lost their homes.”

  “I reckon we will at those community meetings.”

  “About that. I’ll take these first two, but you’re welcome to provide backup.”

  “Whatever you need. They will want to know when they can get back in there.”

  “We should be able to escort one person per household in tomorrow to get what they can.” Emmett grabbed his coffee mug and sipped. He grimaced. Nothing like cold coffee dregs. “Nobody stays until they get this fire under control. Nothing says it won’t circle back around.”

  “Got it.”

  “Now go to bed.”

  “I have a phone call to make.” Tim glanced at his watch. “Or maybe it will wait until morning.”

  “Timothy.”

  Only his nana, who now resided with her Savior, had called him that. “Fine.”

  In the bull pen, he waved off Sal’s attempts to stop him for one of those middle-of-the-night talks that only served to put off the inevitable and pushed through the double doors. He didn’t let up until he settled onto the leather seat of his pickup. A glance at his phone revealed Juliette hadn’t called or texted. When he wanted her to call, she didn’t.

  It was late. Mom first.

  He tapped his mother’s name listed in his favorites although she was far from it.

  “It’s late. What happened? Are you hurt?” Eleanor Trudeau’s reedy voice rose to a whispered shout. “Did someone shoot you? Did you shoot someone? Am I going to see body cam videos on the six o’clock news—?”

  “Mom, Mom, Mom!” Her breathing filled the line. She had COPD and spent her days hooked up to a portable oxygen tank after thirty years of a two-pack-a-day habit. “Mom, I’m fine. No one shot anyone. Is Leland there with you?”