Through the Fire

by Christine Lynxwiler

  “You know what? I think I’ll pass on going over the falls again.” She gave him a rueful grin. “You’ve finally found something I’m scared of.”

  “It looks like it’s still not too close, but we should probably get going.” He started to climb in the front of the kayak.

  She held out her hand. “You get in the back this time. It’s your turn to steer.”

  He looked closely at her face. “You sure?”

  “Yes, Clint. Trust has to go both ways.”

  They hurried down the river, smoothly navigating over the swift currents and paddling energetically together through the slower water. Suddenly a flash of lightning lit up the sky in front of them. Even from behind, Clint could see Jessa flinch.

  He surveyed the area along the banks. There were residences along much of the river, but this particular area didn’t appear to have any. They’d be better away from the water, though. And away from the trees that lined the river.

  He guided the kayak to the shore. They pulled it up on the bank and pulling together dragged it up the steep incline until they were above the flood line. Clint didn’t think this shower would last long, but there was no use in taking a chance.

  Using the rope attached to the front of the boat, Clint tied the craft to a tree.

  “Thanks.” Jessa cast a worried glance at the sky.

  It couldn’t have been much past midafternoon, but the sky grew darker by the second.

  Jessa’s white face pierced his heart. He pulled her to his side. “It’s going to be okay. God will take care of us.” The reassurance slipped out of its own volition as they stumbled up the hill.

  They soon came to a small clearing, and Clint knew they were safer here than they would be in the woods.

  Great gusts of wind whipped at their faces, and Clint’s cap blew off his head. He smiled at Jessa. “That wasn’t my lucky cap, in case you’re wondering.”

  She attempted a smile, but just then another streak of lightning flashed across the sky. A few seconds later, a loud boom of thunder seemed to shake the ground.

  “Jessa,” Clint spoke directly into her ear as he guided her across the field, “help me look for some kind of shelter.”

  No sooner had he said the words than his gaze caught a small hunter’s cabin nestled at the edge of the clearing a hundred feet away. He pointed it out to her, and together, they took off in a run as great fat drops of rain began to splatter down on them.

  By the time they reached the door, they were soaked to the skin. Relief filled him as the knob turned under his hand. From the look of the dust inside, it hadn’t been occupied in several years. There was no furniture, but it had four sturdy walls and what looked to be a solid ceiling.

  Jessa shuddered. “It’s a mansion,” she said, as if reading his mind.

  The rain pounded down on the tin roof, making a deafening noise.

  Clint left Jessa sitting in the middle of the floor and stepped to the only room off the main one. A cot with two blankets sat in the middle of the otherwise bare room.

  He grabbed the blankets, shook out the dust, and headed back in to Jessa. “You cold?”

  She nodded, and he wrapped the blankets around her.

  “I don’t need both. You take one.”

  He was about to refuse, but the stubborn look in her eyes made him rethink it. He wrapped the old quilt around his shoulders, grateful for the dry warmth.

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, shoulders touching, listening to the rain. Lightning occasionally illuminated the dim room through the one tiny window at the front. Every time the thunder crashed, he felt Jessa jump.

  “I’m sorry you’re scared.”

  She looked up at him, and he could see tears shimmering in her green eyes. “Me, too. You must think I’m a big coward.”

  “No, I don’t. It’s kind of nice to see you’re human with fears like everybody else.”

  She gave a small sobbing laugh. “You don’t seem to have any fears.”

  His heart stilled in his chest. “I have plenty.”

  “Like what?” Her voice was disbelieving as she leaned her head on his shoulder. The rain continued to beat on the roof, showing no signs of slacking up.

  He shrugged off his blanket and put his arm around her. He looked down at her. The girl of his dreams may have come at a bad time in his life, but there was no doubt that she was the one. And if that was the case, it was only fair that she know the real him.

  “I’m afraid of going into a fire. That’s why I waited on the doorstep that night at the cabin until you opened the door.”

  Jessa looked up at him with disbelief. “You waited outside? For how long?”

  He shrugged. “Seconds. Maybe even milliseconds, but the point is I couldn’t make my feet move. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t opened the door.”

  She sat up straight and stared at him. “I do. You would have opened the door and come in to get me.”

  Total confidence rang in her voice. If only he could be so sure.

  “I quit the fire department in Little Rock because I knew I couldn’t go back into another fire.”

  “What happened to make you think that?” Concern was evident in her voice. He didn’t want her pity. Maybe he should stop now.

  “I lost a buddy in a fire.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, Clint, I’m so sorry. Was he a fireman?”

  Clint nodded, images of Ryan’s courage in fire after fire filling his mind. “The best.”

  “Was he a Christian?”

  Clint nodded, smiling as he remembered Ryan visiting the nursing home and driving the church van. “The best.”

  “Sounds like the perfect combination.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Who better to put his life on the line for others than one who knows where he’s going when he dies?”

  He let her simple question soak in for a few minutes. He’d heard it said numerous times in other ways since the funeral, but this time the thought seemed like balm to his troubled heart.

  “I was only a few feet away from him when he died.”

  “Oh, Clint. I’m sorry. Was he afraid?”

  Clint shook his head. “Not really. He’d gotten trapped on the second story of a burning house. I was almost to him. . .” The tiny cabin with rain hammering the roof faded away, and he could feel the heat from the roaring flames. “There was a wall of fire between us. He kept yelling for me to go back, to leave him, but I couldn’t.” Tears blurred Clint’s vision, but he could still see the orange glow of the fire. “He said, ‘Tell Becky I love her. I’ll be waiting for her and for you, too, buddy.’ ” He heard his friend’s voice as plain as if he were right with him. “I was yelling to him that I would find a way over to him. . .” Clint choked on the memory and couldn’t go on. Jessa slid her warm hand into his cold one and squeezed. “I told him just to hang tight, that I would be there. I was praying aloud, begging God to help me.” He stared up at the dirty ceiling, his heart pounding as he relived the most terrible moment of his life. “A couple of other guys came from behind and grabbed me to pull me back. Just as they yanked me away, the floor to that section gave way. Ryan tumbled down to the first story. He broke his neck in the fall, so they said he didn’t feel any pain from the fire—” His voice caught on a sob. “I don’t want to lose anyone else whose life is in my hands.”

  Jessa squeezed his hand again and sat quietly for a few minutes. When he had calmed completely, she leaned against him. “Clint, I know you’ve heard a dozen platitudes since your friend’s death. And I don’t want to add any more. But when my brother died and then I got sick, my parents were angry with God and tried to take His control for themselves. It wasn’t possible, and the trying has made them desperately unhappy. Not to mention what it’s done to me.”

  He felt a flare of irritation. He didn’t want her pity, but he didn’t want her criticism either. He had a right to be angry at God. “And you think I’ve done that?”


  “I really don’t know. But think about the last thing you said. About not losing anyone else whose life is in your hands.” She spoke tenderly and without condemnation. “If you think about it. . .our lives are in no one’s hands except God’s.”

  “I know that.” Clint did know it, but knowing it and understanding it were two different things.

  Twenty

  Clint sat on the wooden steps and watched the sun peep over the hilltops. Streaks of orange and red splashed gently across the light blue canvas. The masterpiece unfolded in front of his eyes, changing each second.

  Both exhausted, he and Jessa had talked little after they left the cabin that had served as their sanctuary in the storm. It had been almost dark when they reached Hardy Beach.

  Then when he’d gotten home, the events of the day and her words in the cabin had played over and over again in his mind. He’d fallen asleep with his Bible open and slept soundly until the first hint of light peeked in his window. Without waking the dog, he’d slipped out to watch the birth of a new day.

  He and Ryan used to sit out and watch the sunrise together at the station. It had looked different, of course, against the city skyline, but God’s handiwork never ceased to leave them speechless.

  Clint wondered what Ryan’s reaction to God would have been if their roles in that fatal fire had been reversed. Would Ryan have been angry and bitter?

  Suddenly, Clint remembered one particularly beautiful sunrise he and Ryan had watched at the station.

  After they had sat quietly for a few minutes, soaking in the sight, Ryan broke the silence. “You know, if God takes the time to do this with an earthly sky—with all of our problems and all the sin in the world—heaven must be spectacular.”

  “Yeah,” Clint agreed. “It boggles the mind, doesn’t it?”

  “Just think, man.” Ryan stretched one arm toward the color-streaked sky. “Life is a big race, and heaven is at the finish line. Doesn’t that make you want to run hard?”

  Clint grimaced. They’d worked an all-night fire and had very little sleep. “How much harder can we run?”

  “You may have a point there, buddy.” Ryan tilted his face to the newborn sun and closed his eyes. “It sure makes me want to do the best I can for God, though.” He jumped up and shoved Clint’s cap bill down on his face. “Last one to heaven is a rotten egg.”

  Clint leaped to his feet and took after his friend, and in spite of their lack of sleep and physical exhaustion, they’d ended up rolling around wrestling like a couple of kids. Remembering it now, Clint chuckled, but he felt his eyes sting with tears.

  A movement next door caught his attention. Jessa’s blue car pulled out of her driveway and drove down the road. What could she be doing up so early?

  Of course. The flowers for his mom’s birthday. Jessa must be every bit as tired and sore as he was, but she had to make four bouquets before noon.

  ❧

  “Do you always leave the door unlocked when you’re here working by yourself?” Clint’s voice behind her caused Jessa to jump.

  She met his eyes, and the tenderness there was almost her undoing. “Well, since Doris is going to be here in less than an hour, I just didn’t think to lock it back up.”

  He held out a box of donuts. “I know you left too early to eat breakfast, so I thought you might be getting hungry.”

  “Oh, Clint. Thanks. My stomach started growling about ten minutes ago.” She nodded toward the wreath she’d been working on. “Let me finish this, and then I’ll sit down and eat one.”

  He came in and leaned on the counter. When he saw the three finished projects, he whistled. “How did you manage that?”

  She winked at him. “I had inside help.”

  “Dad?”

  She nodded.

  Clint picked up a little red fireman’s hat off the counter. He stared at a long minute, running his thumb and finger around the brim. Then he looked up at her. “Did you decide you didn’t have room for this?”

  “It was in the stuff your dad left in the bag on my porch last night. But I didn’t know how you’d feel about me using it in the bouquet.”

  “Whatever happens from this point on, it was a part of my past.” He slid it across the counter toward her. “Go ahead and use it if you want to.”

  Relieved, she chuckled. “I needed it so badly for balance, but I didn’t want to upset you.”

  She pulled his basket over to her and placed the fireman’s hat at an angle on top of the greenery, then rearranged the yellow lab puppy figure and miniature red Jeep. Remembering a story Elaine had told about how Clint loved to bring her dandelions when he was young, she had fastened a bunch of silk flowers that strongly resembled yellow dandelions with a slender red ribbon and laid them in the basket beside the other things. A wider yellow and red ribbon jauntily graced the basket handle.

  “I can’t believe you made that.” He shook his head, admiration shining in his eyes.

  He pointed toward the navy blue basket. “That was Jake’s Little League glove and ball. I haven’t seen that in years.” On one side she’d arranged bright red and yellow flowers and on the other side a scruffy old glove holding a worn baseball rested on the shorter grasslike greenery. A St. Louis Cardinals pennant waved proudly beside the ball and glove.

  She nodded and grinned. “You like it?”

  “Of course I do. We’ll have to take a picture and send it to him. He’s going to love it.”

  “I looked online for the Cardinal’s official colors. Red and blue are their primary colors, but this bright yellow is their secondary color.”

  He arched an eyebrow.

  She shrugged. “So? I worry about detail. I didn’t want to use red, white, and blue because of Holt and Megan’s bouquet.” She scooted Jake’s arrangement over to reveal the basket of red roses, white lilies, and blue carnations. A patchwork quilt square draped over the basket at an angle. The round campaign button pinned on it proudly proclaimed Vote McFadden for a Brighter Tomorrow. Tucked in behind was a small paint and brush set she’d picked up at the dollar store. Elaine’s refrigerator was decorated with artistic renderings from Sarah, Megan’s little girl whom Holt had recently adopted.

  “Did you cut up a quilt?” Clint touched the old patchwork piece.

  “No, I bought that at an antique store in downtown Hardy yesterday. Apparently it was intended for a quilt years ago but never made it.”

  “You’ve worked so hard on these, Jessa. Nobody expected this.” He pointed to the large straw wreath on the counter. “And what is this you’re making now?”

  “This is for Cade and Annalisa to give your mom.” She had wrapped the wreath in a ribbon with an outdoor scene print. “Memory wreathes are the hottest thing going this year. This is my variation. I hope they’re happy with it.”

  “They’ll be thrilled.” He examined each of the small dolls Jessa had fastened to the wreath with clear plastic wire. Four of the figures—one large cowboy and three smaller cowboys—were mounted on plastic horses of the same scale. Then the mom doll, with long brunette hair, cradled a baby to her chest with one arm and extended the other in a wave to the riders.

  “Incredible,” he said softly.

  While he inspected the wreath, Jessa finished framing a snapshot with a green ribbon. Jeb had written Cade’s family on the back of it. When she had the framed photo ready, she reached for her glue gun.

  Clint stepped away from the wreath as she fastened the picture to the bottom center.

  “I can’t believe what you’ve done.” The nearness of his voice told her he was looking over her shoulder. “I know I’ve said that already, but it’s astonishing.”

  Startled by his close proximity, her hand trembled slightly as she glued the picture on. When she sat the glue gun down and turned around, instead of moving back, he took her in his arms.

  “I did stop by to bring you breakfast, Jessa, but I came by for something else, too.” He brushed back a renegade strand of hair from her eye.


  “Really?” She shivered.

  “Really.” With his thumb, he caressed her cheek. “I wanted to thank you for listening to me in the cabin yesterday.” He smiled. “I know you were a somewhat captive audience considering the storm, but you didn’t have to be so attentive.”

  “I wish I could have said something more helpful. I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me.”

  “Do you trust me?” he asked softly.

  For a second, she wondered if she might drown in the blueness of his eyes. Her breath caught in her throat. She nodded.

  His kiss was tender, like the first fresh day of each new season, a kiss full of hope and beginnings. Jessa’s heart slammed against her ribs.

  She pulled away and motioned toward the arrangements on the counter. “Will you help me get these to the car? And then we can have a donut.”

  He ran his finger absently over his lips and stared at her. “Yes. But when my family goes home, you and I are going to have a long talk.”

  She reminded herself that fireman or no fireman, Clint would always be a protector. Before she could reply, Doris walked in the door.

  Twenty-one

  When the doorbell rang, Jessa took one last look at the arrangements that now decorated her dining room table. She’d hoped Clint would be back from getting take-out chicken by the time his family arrived, just in case they hated her ideas. But he wouldn’t ring the doorbell.

  She glanced at herself in the foyer mirror and tucked back a stray hair, then opened the door. A tall, beautiful brunette stood on the porch.

  “Hi! You must be Jessa.” The smiling woman stuck out her hand. “I’m Annalisa McFadden.”

  Jessa returned her firm handshake. “Come on in.” She motioned Annalisa to follow her into the dining room. Jessa knew from the second she met her that Annalisa would be gracious whatever her true feelings, but there was no faking the delight that twinkled in her brown eyes when she saw the wreath.

  Like Clint had, she touched each of the figures. “Oh, Jessa. You’ve captured the heart of my family so perfectly. I love it!”