Mountains of Grace

by Kelly Irvin

  “Of course not. It’s late.”

  “As if that makes a difference to you two.”

  Mom labored under the illusion that Tim didn’t know her longtime significant other, Leland Delacroix, lived with her in the worn three-bedroom house she’d occupied since her divorce from Tim’s father. Unlike his dad, who took his children to church when it was his weekend, Tim’s mom had little interest in organized religion. “Don’t get snippy with me, young man. I can still turn you over my knee and use a switch on your behind.”

  Not since a growth spurt the summer before his freshman year of high school turned him into a giant who towered over her. “Sorry, ma’am. Did you pack?”

  “Pack what?”

  “Mom. You received a pre-evac notice, didn’t you?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  “Pack enough clothes for a couple of weeks. I’ll drive you and Leland, if he wants, up to Eureka in the morning. You can stay with Aunt Maddy until they get this thing under control.”

  “Maddy’s allergic to dogs.”

  Aunt Madeleine wasn’t allergic to dogs. She simply didn’t like her sister’s taste in a yappy dog with wet, slobbery fur on her chin. “I’ll take Snickers.”

  “You’ll neglect her.”

  “Pack, Mom. I’ll be by first thing in the morning to pick you up. Tell Leland I’m happy to give him a ride as well.”

  He prayed daily for a change of heart in his mother, but it wasn’t his place to judge. Or let his beliefs stand in the way of offering help to a veteran who’d served his country in the U.S. Army for thirty years, including two tours in Iraq during Operation Desert Storm.

  “You sure are bossy.”

  “Got it from you.”

  “I could call one of your sisters.”

  “Camille is working the night shift now at the ER in Butte. Vic and Romy just went back to school. They’ll miss class if they come back up here.” And all three would call him to complain that Tim hadn’t dealt with the situation. Why inconvenience them when he was still in Libby? Would always be in Libby. “I don’t mind and I’m right down the road.”

  “Fine.”

  It took a second to realize she’d hung up. He laid the phone on the dashboard and considered the September sky. Smoke drifting from the west made it look like a foggy night. No stars twinkled. No moon shone. If a person didn’t know better, he’d think rain might be on the way. Sweet, wet, cooling rain.

  Memories inundated Tim. The smell of wet earth. Shivering as the wind whipped the rain across his face and soaked his T-shirt. The high-pitched giggles of his little sisters. They wore dinky swimming suits and jumped barefoot in rain puddles in the front yard.

  Then Mom came home from work and spanked him for letting them play outside in the rain. He was the oldest. He was the one in charge.

  The man of the house from the time he was ten.

  He, Camille, Victoria, and Romy shared one thing in common besides parentage. They all wanted out of that house. They’d worked hard for it—outstanding grades, summer jobs, perfect test scores. Scholarships. Camille was a first-year ER nurse. Victoria and Romy were freshman at Montana State. Vic was premed and Romy prelaw.

  Good professions. They would earn a decent living. Libby had nothing to offer them. They would not be back.

  Tim had made his choice, and God had blessed him with a good job in his hometown. The girls claimed that because Mom favored him, he didn’t know what it was like to live with her as her health deteriorated. Then she had to quit work and go on disability. At which time she became more querulous, according to the fearsome threesome.

  They were wrong. He did know. Behind the cranky, old-broad facade was a scared woman who loved her children and would go to great lengths to get their attention. She claimed her short-lived fling with a married acquaintance that ended her marriage with Tim’s dad had occurred because Dad didn’t pay enough attention to her. Somehow she’d never outgrown the childish idea that negative attention was better than no attention at all.

  A cricket chirped. He grabbed his phone from the dashboard.

  B that way.

  Juliette. Finally. He heaved a breath and thumbed a response.

  What way?

  U don’t call. U don’t write.

  Working.

  Pouting.

  About what?

  I don’t want to fight.

  Tim jabbed her name just below his mother’s on his favorites list. She picked up immediately. “Where are you?”

  “Sitting in my truck outside the office.”

  “Why? You sound down.”

  “Tired.”

  “I wish you were in Eureka right now. I’d come give you a back rub.”

  Tim stifled a groan. “That would not be a good idea.”

  “Why? Because you might like it too much?”

  Lord, give me strength. “Get some sleep.”

  “I’m in bed. Do you want to know what I’m wearing?”

  “I’m hanging up now.”

  “Don’t hang up. I’m sorry.” The teasing quality disappeared. “I don’t mean to make things harder. I just don’t understand why you don’t want me like that.”

  He closed his eyes. Juliette’s need to seek affirmation through the ways of the world was sad. Two years of friendship and he still hadn’t found a way to convince her that not taking her up on her offer reflected how much he did like her. His feelings for her made it harder every day to stick to his convictions—harder than it had ever been with any other woman. “You know that’s not true. Stop fishing for compliments. The ways I like you are too numerous to mention, but the most important way has nothing to do with the way you look or what you wear.”

  “I want to be with you.” She sounded like a little girl denied a candy bar. “Forever.”

  “I’m bringing Mom and Leland to Eureka in the morning. Maybe we can meet at the Front Porch Grill House for a quick bite—if I don’t have to go to Kootenai.”

  “Are they letting us back in?”

  “One person per household will be allowed to pick up some things, but no one will be allowed to stay. Now go to sleep.”

  “Call me when you’re on the way.”

  “Sweet dreams.”

  “I’ll dream of you.”

  He disconnected and held the phone against his chest for a ten-count. His heart thumped. He tried not to picture Juliette with her hair down, laughing, her bare legs and feet splashing him with water the last time they took a picnic lunch to the lake.

  She was the most beautiful woman in the world.

  He leaned over and tugged open his glove compartment. His hand rested on his well-worn copy of The Measure of a Man. Not tonight. He selected the Reverend Dr. King’s Thou, Dear God, a collection of Dr. King’s prayers, instead. Tim’s own words seemed inadequate tonight. He thumbed through his favorites, read several, and closed the book.

  I know, Lord, it’s my fault. I did this all wrong. But I’ve never asked You for much. I’m asking You now, please heal her heart. Whatever it is that keeps her far from You, remove that obstacle. I can’t walk away from this one. I’ll wait as long as I have to, but she’s it for me.

  Dr. King and Pastor Matt would have all kinds of things to say about that prayer. Starting with “His will be done, not yours,” followed by “Don’t be unevenly yoked,” followed by “Be more concerned for her spiritual well-being than what you want.”

  All true.

  No way he would sleep now.

  He slid from the truck and trudged back inside.

  * * *

  Tears slipping down her temples into her tangled hair, Juliette clutched her phone to her chest. She stared into the darkness. Her throat ached. Her jaw hurt from gritting her teeth. Permanent heartburn had taken up residence in her stomach and throat. Plenty of men—college boys, really—had said the magic words to her. But they would’ve said anything to get what they wanted.

  When did it start? She couldn’t put her finger on the
exact moment. Freshman cheerleader. Homecoming court. Head varsity cheerleader by her junior year. Homecoming queen her senior year. Hers had been the stereotypical rise in popularity in a small town. Big fish in a small pond. An average student at best, her grades suffered from the hours spent practicing and performing at games followed by victory celebrations.

  She liked being liked. She liked being pretty.

  Until being pretty led her down a dark path away from a bonfire at the lake one night to a place that still haunted her dreams.

  “You’re the shallowest woman on the face of the earth.” She tugged a pillow over her face. It smelled of Aunt Tina’s cedar chest and lavender potpourri sachets. Her stomach roiled and burned. She tugged the pillow down so she could wrap her arms around it. Soft pillow, not Tim’s thick chest and biceps inflated by years of pumping iron and doing push-ups in his spare bedroom. So he said. She’d never been invited to his house. He liked his boundaries. “You just want what you can’t have.”

  She rolled until her body plopped over the side of the queen-size bed with its Amish Nine Patch quilt and landed on her knees. She faced the bed and clasped her hands the way she had as a little girl when Dad came in to hear her prayers at bedtime. “Okay, God, here’s the deal. What do I have to do?” This was stupid. She cradled her head in her hands. “Tim says we can’t be together until I figure out things with You. So here I am. What do You want from me?”

  Silence.

  The door popped open and slammed against the wall. “Hey, you’re awake.” Courtney barged into the room. “I thought you might be asleep already.”

  “I figured from the way you tiptoed in all quiet.”

  “Sorry.” Courtney sprawled across the bed. “What’cha doing down there?”

  “I lost an earring. I was looking for it.”

  Courtney rolled over onto her back and tugged her oversized, blue God’s Not Dead T-shirt down around her skinny thighs. “For a minute, I thought you were praying. Feel free to pray for me that I get these stupid braces off next month. They hurt.”

  “Me? You know better. Get Mom to pray for you.”

  “She already does. It would be nice if you would do it too.” Courtney rolled over on her side and propped her head on her hand. “We could go to church together again.”

  “That’s not happening.”

  “Everyone knows you stopped going to church to tick off Mom and Dad because they grounded you and wouldn’t let you go to the tailgate parties anymore after you got that ticket for underage drinking.” Courtney grinned. “It worked. But I figure by now you’re over it.”

  It had nothing to do with ticking off Mom and Dad. If only it were that simple. The memories pounded against the barriers erected to keep them from drowning her in the sick shame of knowing she had only herself to blame. What had happened to her that summer night was all her fault. She grabbed a jumbo container of Tums from the table next to the bed and popped three in her mouth.

  “You’ve been eating those like candy for days now. What’s the matter?” Courtney frowned. “You look green around the gills. Are you sick?”

  “Nope. Too much chips and salsa at supper. I can’t believe you remember all that stuff with me and Mom and Dad. It was a long time ago. You were in grade school. Now you have your own battles to fight.”

  She might be in high school now, but Courtney still had that fresh, naive innocence that people loved. Her platinum-blonde hair was cut in a layered bob. A smattering of sun-induced freckles decorated her upturned nose. She was all arms and legs and most of the time seemed to have no cares beyond when her next softball game would be. She wore no makeup and hadn’t donned anything besides jeans, shorts, T-shirts, and sports uniforms in years. Juliette had never looked that innocent.

  “All that yelling and crying, who could forget?” Courtney scooted across the bed and squeezed onto the floor next to Juliette. “I want to pray that our house is still there. And the tree with the tire swing. And the trampoline. Oh, and the basketball hoop and the barbecue pit. Do you think the old green pickup is still there?”

  Dad had taught Juliette to drive in that 2003 Ford F-150. In a year it would be Courtney’s turn. “I don’t know. Let’s hope for the best.”

  “Let’s pray for it.” Courtney laid her head on Juliette’s shoulder. “I know stuff isn’t important, but I really want our house to still be there. I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

  Juliette swallowed the knot in her throat. She was not only shallow but selfish. “You start, sweetie. I’ll chime in.”

  If her little sister needed her to pray, then Juliette could at least pretend she believed it would help.

  It couldn’t hurt, could it?

  12

  West Kootenai, Montana

  The forest of blackened toothpicks stretched as far as the eye could see on both sides of the highway. Caleb’s breakfast of oatmeal and two cups of coffee, black and strong enough to burn the enamel from his teeth, roiled in his stomach. In a mere twenty-four hours, their beautiful, pristine world had disappeared.

  He focused on the road ahead of Sheriff Brody’s SUV. Maybe if he didn’t look left or right he could block out the ravaged wasteland. Neither Brody nor Jonah had spoken in the last twenty minutes. The closer they came to Kootenai, the quieter it became. Caleb sought words, but none appeared. They’d turned to ash.

  The sheriff had warned them this quick trip to salvage anything worth salvaging would be hard. Hard didn’t do this new world justice. The majestic Douglas fir and ponderosa pine, the birch, the tamarack, the spruce—they were all gone. Despite rolled-up windows, the stench of smoke and burnt earth crowded the car’s interior and squeezed into the spaces, blanketing the air around the three men.

  The stench of death and destruction permeated everything and everyone.

  Caleb glanced in the passenger side mirror. Nearly three dozen trucks, trailers, and SUVs followed. Kootenai’s men hoped for the best, expected the worst, and were ready to pick up the pieces. Ian was in Tim Trudeau’s truck behind them. They’d prayed together before heading to Kootenai. Tim prayed for the strength to accept whatever lay ahead of them.

  “We’ll go to your place first, Jonah.” Sheriff Brody eased his vehicle onto Wilderness Trail. “Then yours, Caleb. After that we can circle around and see if anyone else needs help.”

  “I’d like to go by the school.” Caleb strove to match the sheriff’s matter-of-fact tone. Mercy would be devastated at the building’s loss. She claimed to want to dedicate her life to teaching. Even if that had been an excuse to turn him down, she really cared for her job and her scholars. They would have to make plans for rebuilding if it didn’t survive. The school board would need to meet about replacing desks, books, and materials. Another auction fund-raiser would be necessary. “It would be good for the children to have lessons in town so they don’t miss too much.”

  “Gut idea. If it’s still there, we can bring back the desks and books.” Jonah spoke for the first time. “Mercy will appreciate keeping busy too. We can set up in Mrs. Knowles’s garage.”

  Many of the children had gone with their parents to other Plain families in Libby and St. Ignatius. Still, a few would need lessons. Mercy wouldn’t want them to get behind. She was that kind of teacher. That kind of person.

  Caleb rubbed his aching temple. Time to move on. Just like he had in Indiana. By now he should be an expert at failed attempts at courting. With Leyla he’d thrown himself into courting with all the fervor of an eighteen-year-old. A year later Leyla had broken up with him. All those rides, those stolen moments for kisses and hugs behind the barn. The secrets whispered under the stars. It had been perfect. At least he’d thought so.

  Six months later, Leyla married a man from a neighboring district and moved away.

  She’d never explained what he did wrong.

  Neither had Mercy.

  Emmett pulled onto the gravel road that led into the twenty-acre parcel that had been in the Yoder family for twenty-five y
ears. He stopped at the end of the drive. No one spoke for several seconds.

  “Let me out.” Jonah’s bass deepened. “Please.”

  Caleb pushed the door open and hopped out. He held it for Jonah, who didn’t look his way. His expression had gone doggedly blank. It seemed likely he didn’t know tears rolled down his lined cheeks.

  Hands on the gun belt tucked under his big belly, Emmett trudged around to the other side of his SUV. “Let’s give him a minute.”

  Caleb followed. The thick layer of gray-white ash under his feet felt like snow. His brain refused to comprehend the frantic messages sent by his eyes.

  His shoulders slumped, Jonah slogged through the ash past charred trees to a pile of mangled metal and debris where his family’s home had once stood. Their everything was gone. Only a heap of metal remained.

  The woodworking shop no longer existed either.

  Simply gone. Like a tornado struck—only this one used fire to reduce rubble to ash.

  How could the sun shine on a scene of such destruction?

  An eerie silence haunted the remains. No breeze brushed leaves on trees. No birds sang. No flies buzzed. No crickets or cicadas or chorus of bullfrogs. Not even a dog barked.

  Only the sound of Jonah’s harsh breathing filled his ears. His heart ached for this man who would have to return to Eureka to tell his wife and children that their home had not survived. What would it be like to have that burden on his shoulders?

  A house was not a home. A family made a home. Years of living in a house with people who remained distant no matter how hard he tried to get closer had taught Caleb that. Jonah still had his family. He would make a home for them, even if it was a trailer or a two-room duplex. He was that kind of a man.

  The kind of man Caleb longed to be.

  “Look.” Emmett pointed to a spot to the left of where the four-bedroom house once stood. A simple lean-to where Jonah had parked his buggy had survived.