Mountains of Grace

by Kelly Irvin

  Spencer wavered. What could it hurt? It would be the most church he’d attended in years. Maybe he would get credit for three services with three preachers. Pretty Patty’s pleased expression appeared in his mind’s eye. “Sure. Why not?”

  * * *

  Mercy squeezed past her brothers and cut left in the aisle against the flow of people exiting the auditorium. They were eager to get to the gym where women’s groups from four or five Eureka churches had set up tables of coffee, juice, iced tea, and all kinds of desserts. She couldn’t go there until she said something to Spencer. The pain in his voice as he eulogized his friend and fellow firefighter had touched a chord deep in her heart. Such angst. She’d thought only of herself and not of the sacrifices made by others. So selfish. A house could be replaced. A friend could not.

  “Mercy! Where are you going?” Leesa’s high voice carried over the buzz of hundreds of conversations reverberating against the auditorium walls. “You’ll get left behind.”

  “I’ll be right back. I have to tell someone something.”

  Leesa shrugged. “It’s your funeral.”

  So to speak. If the elders saw her talking to Spencer in public, there would be a price to pay. Her heart warred with her brain. Words of consolation. Quick words.

  She dodged a mother with a toddler on each hip and squeezed past a wizened old man with a walker. The door to the backstage stairs opened. Sheriff Brody tipped his hat at her and said howdy, followed by the minister from Kootenai Community Church and Pastor Matt. No Spencer. She let the men pass and then slipped in.

  Spencer leaned against a wall, his crutches propped next to him, talking to Tim. The sheriff’s deputy’s hands moved as he spoke, punctuating his words. Mercy hesitated. She shouldn’t be back here. Her emotions had bested her once again. She backed away. Tim looked up. “Mercy, I’m so glad you and your family could come. It was nice to see friendly faces in the audience. Did you need something?”

  “No, no, I just . . . I . . . nothing. I took a wrong turn.”

  The biggest yet wimpiest lie she’d ever told.

  Tim glanced at Spencer and then back at Mercy. He shoved his hat on his head and nodded. “Good talking to you, Spence. I need to find Juliette. I promised to split a piece of her aunt Tina’s huckleberry pie with her.”

  As he brushed past Mercy, he fixed her with a somber but kind stare. “Take care. Don’t take too long or all the pie will be gone.”

  “My mom brought snickerdoodles.”

  Patting his belly, Tim groaned and disappeared through the door. Mercy turned to Spencer.

  “I came to tell you I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” He swiped at his face with his sleeve. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”

  “It’s okay. I’m a big girl and I’m responsible for my actions.”

  Spencer shook his head. “My sister says I should leave you alone. So does your friend Caleb. And Juliette.”

  “They mean well. They don’t think an Englisch man and a Plain woman can be friends.”

  “But they can?”

  “I don’t think God intended for rules to prevent human beings from offering condolences to friends.” Not a heretical thought, surely. “I wonder if God meant for us to offer comfort in times of loss, regardless of what we believe.”

  “You’re a smart woman, Mercy Yoder.” Spencer studied a spot on the wall over her shoulder. He moved as if his leg hurt—or maybe it was his heart. “I’ve been lucky to know more than one in my life.”

  “The woman I remind you of?”

  “Yeah. Patty had your same heart for God and she saw things in me that I didn’t know were there.”

  “Maybe you should go see her again.”

  Longing mixed with uncertainty spread across his face. “You think she’d take me back?”

  “She saw something in you the first time. If she’s the woman you say she is, she’s never stopped praying for you. The question is, have you let God into your heart? That’s what she’ll want to know.”

  He ducked his head and studied his injured leg. “I’m working on it, actually.”

  “That’s all she’ll need to know.”

  “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

  “If I were in her shoes, that’s how I’d feel.” Mercy leaned against the wall across from him. They were far too close in the way they saw the world. The way their thoughts mingled was scary. They’d only talked a few times, yet here they were conversing as if they’d known each other for years. “You’re blessed to be loved by a woman who cares about your salvation.”

  “I get the impression that there’s a guy who’s concerned about yours as well.”

  What did he know about Caleb? “What did Juliette tell you?”

  “She didn’t. Caleb gave me a ride home that night after we took a walk. The guy’s got it bad for you.”

  He had a funny way of showing it. She shouldn’t be talking about him to an English man. “That’s private.”

  Spencer laughed. “It’s okay to talk about my love life but not yours?”

  “Single Plain women don’t have love lives.”

  “You need to go find Caleb and get one.”

  “You need to go find Patty and get one.”

  He straightened and held out his hand. “It’s been good knowing you, Amish girl.”

  “Thank you. Same here.” She took his hand and shook hard. “Have a good life.”

  “You too.”

  He went first. The door shut with a slight thud, leaving her in the semidarkness of the tiny alcove. She wanted a good life.

  She wanted it with Caleb.

  Time to go find out if he wanted the same thing.

  * * *

  Caleb shifted in the front-row auditorium seat. Seconds ticked away. He should go. Yet he waited. With the promise of food and drink, the auditorium emptied quickly. The pastors left. Sheriff Brody left. Tim stopped to say hello and then moved on in search of Juliette’s company and pie. Still, Caleb waited.

  A door thumped and the curtains that hid the backstage entrance fluttered.

  Spencer swung down the aisle on his crutches. He halted. “Caleb. You’re missing out on a spectacular spread of pies in the gym, or so I’m told.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” He moved closer. Dark swaths circled his eyes like purple bruises. He no longer wore a bandage over the cut on his forehead. The stitches likely would leave a scar. “But you weren’t waiting here to tell me that.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She came to express her condolences, that’s all.” Sympathy softened Spencer’s expression. “We’re just friends.”

  “Sure.”

  “She’s worth fighting for.”

  “I also know that, but it’s not my . . . feelings that should be your concern.” As much as Caleb had to keep telling himself this. “It’s her faith that’s at risk.”

  “It’s not at risk. She’s firmly planted in her faith. Don’t take my word for it. Ask Mercy for yourself.”

  “I will ask her.”

  “Ask me what?” Mercy pushed through the alcove door. Her flushed face only made her prettier. Spencer resumed his hobble up the aisle.

  Mercy strode toward Caleb. She put her hands on her hips and stared. “What did he tell you?”

  “He didn’t have to tell me anything.” Caleb rose. Anger mingled with embarrassment. Why did he keep doing this to himself? “I thought maybe we could continue that conversation we had at the soda shop. Maybe take a ride. Start over fresh. Leesa said you went backstage. I couldn’t for the life of me imagine why.”

  Because I’m not the brightest guy on the planet. He needed to have his head examined. Being turned down once wasn’t enough.

  “I’m so sorry.” Mercy’s face flushed scarlet. “I didn’t know you were waiting.”

  “Would it have mattered?”

  “What are you talking about? I told Spencer I was sorry for his loss. I t
old him he should go find an old friend of his. And then I was coming to find you.”

  He brushed past her and trudged up the aisle. “Sure you were.”

  “Caleb, wait. I only wanted to offer the condolences of a friend. He seemed so sad.”

  Caleb whirled. “You are a Plain woman. He is an Englisch man. It’s not proper for you to be alone with him. To speak to him in private.”

  “I didn’t intend for it to be in private.”

  “Any more than you intended to walk with him the other night.” He trod closer. Too close. He could see unshed tears teetering in her eyes. They were huge and filled with confusion and uncertainty. “I won’t vie for you. If you have eyes for another, so be it. I’m a simple man with little to offer. I know that. I don’t compete. It’s not what we do.”

  “I don’t have eyes for another. I’m sorry.”

  “You said that already.”

  “And I meant it. I’m not asking anyone to compete.” Her voice grew steadier with each word. “If you don’t trust me, then we have a much bigger problem than I first thought.”

  “How can I trust you when I keep seeing you with another man—an Englisch man?” He shoved his hat on his head and walked away.

  “That’s the most emotion you’ve ever shown in the time I’ve known you.”

  Lest he show more emotion than he should, Caleb kept walking.

  “How was I supposed to know you really cared? You were lukewarm at best, cold at worst.”

  He halted. Showing emotion only caused trouble. It left him open to more hurt and embarrassment.

  “Why didn’t you ever kiss me?”

  Heat burned his face hotter than any flames. His boots weighed a thousand pounds. Turn around.

  He forced himself to turn. “What?”

  “It’s a simple question. You wanted to marry me, but you couldn’t bring yourself to hold my hand, let alone kiss me. I may not have much experience with these things, but I know physical affection is part of what binds a mann and a fraa together.”

  “I’m not gut at it.”

  The words hung in the air like thick, dark, black clouds.

  Mercy’s eyes widened. Her eyebrows shot up. Her mouth dropped open. “How do you know?”

  A road no man wanted to tread twice. “I had a special friend in Indiana.”

  Her face reddened. “You don’t have to tell me—”

  “I want to tell you. It’s not you who is lacking. It’s me.” He walked back down the aisle and sank into a seat on the front row. “Sit with me. Please.”

  She sat next to him.

  He contemplated the stage. “I was eighteen. I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought we were in love. That she loved me like I loved her.”

  He managed a surreptitious side-glance. Mercy studied her hands, folded in her lap. He marched forward through the painful dense forest of memories. “She broke up with me. Six months later, she married another man.”

  “I’m sorry you were hurt.”

  “I promised myself I would do it better next time. I would slow down and not scare the next woman away. I figured I must not be very gut at it. She never said, so how was I to know?”

  “You didn’t scare me away, but you never made me feel like you really wanted me like that, either. Like a mann wants a fraa.” Her voice was small and embarrassed. “I couldn’t imagine why you wanted to marry me if you couldn’t bring yourself to kiss me.”

  “Believe me, I wanted to.”

  “And then I turned you down and you were hurt all over again.”

  “It’s all right. I’ll live.” Her hand slipped across the arm of the seat. Her fingers touched his. He grasped them. His heart hammered in his chest. “What about Spencer?”

  “Spencer is in love with another. You have nothing to worry about there.”

  “Maybe we can start again.”

  “Or pick up from where we left off?” She leaned closer. She smelled of snickerdoodles. Cinnamon and sugar. Sweet and spicy. “Have a do-over.”

  “I’d like that.”

  The air crackled between them. He leaned closer. Her hazel eyes swam with emotion. They met in the middle. A soft, sweet kiss that grew and deepened. Months of pent-up feelings exploded.

  They both jumped back. Mercy’s smile illuminated the entire auditorium. “I don’t have any experience, but you’re wrong about being bad at it. I’m sure of that.”

  39

  West Kootenai, Montana

  An eerie silence like that of a deserted cemetery reigned. Mercy stood with one hand clasped in Hope’s and the other in Job’s as they stared at the remains of their home. Knowing that their home had been destroyed and seeing its remnants were two different animals. Almost a month had passed since the fire destroyed their past. Now the time had come to shut the door on what had been lost and move forward. Or so her father said.

  Her family made a meandering line that began with Father and Mother, who held a wiggling Levi in her arms, and made its way through the rest of their children. Tears ran down Leesa’s face. Abraham, a replica of their father, stared at the enormous pile of debris and ashes with the granite face of a man attending his own funeral. Moses had one hand on Seth’s shoulder. None of her brothers showed emotion. How did they do that? They knew what was expected and they did it. To be so obedient.

  Full of emotions that fell into each other like clothes wound together and ripped apart in the wringer wash machine, she had to shake them out, hang them up to remove the wrinkles, and try to make them presentable.

  Their home had been reduced to a heap of rubble. The cargo trailer’s sides were melted. As if fire wasn’t enough, it seemed a tornado had ripped through the property, leaving nothing recognizable in its wake. Except the lean-to where they stored their buggies. It still stood, only forty feet from the house.

  Father bowed his head. Everyone followed suit.

  A sob broke the silence. Glad for a reason to take her gaze from the destruction, Mercy knelt, ignoring the snowy-white ashes that coated her apron, and hugged Hope. “We’ll rebuild. We’ll be fine.”

  “Where are Nickel and Dime?” His lower lip protruding, Job turned to Father. “Where is the chicken coop? Where are the chickens?”

  “Down the mountain.” Father wiped his face with his bandana. “Critters are smart. Don’t you worry about them. Don’t worry about anything. The trees will grow again. The grass will turn green. We’ll fish and hunt and grow our food just as we always have. We have much to be thankful for.”

  They were all safe. No lives lost. Stuff could be replaced. Life went on. Mercy dug deep for the teachings that had been the bedrock of her faith since the day she was old enough to understand the words spoken by her parents and the church elders.

  “No lives were lost.” He spoke as if Mercy said the words aloud. “Your mudder and I rejoice that we’re all still together. We have each other. Our neighbors have their houses. We rejoice for them. We rejoice because we have friends and neighbors who will help us.”

  He let go of Mother’s hand and trudged through the ashes to where Mercy hugged Hope and Job. His hand squeezed her shoulder. He patted Job’s hatless head. “Already Noah and the others are talking about a mobile home we can borrow to live in while we rebuild. We’ll start today, now, by removing the debris. They’ll be here soon to help.”

  His head lifted, shoulders squared, Father strode to the wagon Abraham had driven behind the buggy. He pulled a grocery bag from the back and began to hand out work gloves. Even Job received his own small pair.

  “Together, we’ll rebuild. This is Gott’s plan for us. It’s our job to make the best of it.”

  Mercy accepted the tan cloth and leather gloves. They felt heavy in her hands. So heavy she might drop them. The ache in her throat spread across her chest and invaded her heart. “May I go to the school first?”

  To her amazement the words came out devoid of her deep sadness. The children didn’t need to see her weakness. If Father and Mother could
be strong, so could she. Please, Gott, let me hang on a few more minutes. Falling apart is not acceptable. Please, please let me go.

  “The school is fine.”

  “I want to see about the smoke damage. Caleb said painting would be necessary. And airing it out. The sooner we start, the sooner we get things back to normal.”

  Whatever that meant. She wanted to see it with her own eyes. Families who still had their homes were returning to Kootenai today. That meant school needed to resume here as well. A truck was needed to convey the desks back to their home.

  And their teacher needed to live here as well. As soon as possible.

  Caleb might help with that. Hope and love would spring from these ashes like the plants that would unfurl their green leaves come spring. No matter how often the flames came, life renewed itself on these mountains and in this forest.

  Her father’s gaze bounced to her mother. Some unspoken words passed between them. “Jah. But come back directly. I want the family together today.”

  Ten minutes later she pulled up to the school. Not a single scorched board. She sat in the buggy, not moving, and stared at the log cabin–style building. It still stood.

  Caleb and her father had said it did. Yet confirmation had been needed.

  Life did, indeed, go on.

  The grass shone a brilliant green against the dark earth. The leaves had begun to turn vivid orange and red on the maple trees by the front door. The cool breeze rustled in the leaves, an autumn sound incongruous with the scent of decay and darkness that hung in the air.

  The breeze nudged the wooden-plank seat on the swing set that still held a place of honor a few yards away from the building. The squeak of the chains sent memories frolicking. Little boys jumped from the swings and took flight. Children shrieked with laughter as they raced around the makeshift baseball field. Life would go on here.

  Still, she sat.

  Seeds of a different sort were planted here. Seeds of learning. Not just reading, writing, and arithmetic. Seeds of thought. Of knowledge.

  Perhaps they weren’t as important as the other kinds of seeds her father and mother valued. But Mercy pressed close to this learning because it brought her some modicum of understanding.