“Clint?” Jessa’s voice was thick with tears. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine.” When he said it, he realized it was true. God had given him back his dream.
Thank You.
“There’s not much damage. Did you figure out how it happened? Seth couldn’t have done it. He wasn’t anywhere near here. And how did Ruby get in there?”
❧
Jessa’s mind spun with the same questions Clint was asking. But before she could get any answers, sirens wailed. The fire engine pulled in, followed immediately by the ambulance.
Clint touched Jessa’s arm. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
Jessa nodded. “We need to check on Ruby.”
When they reached Ruby, EMTs were already working with her. Seth looked up at Jessa. His face was the color of paper, and his eyes held a haunted look. Jessa took his hand, but he pulled his away and shook his head.
Evelyn Trent came running into the parking lot, tears streaming down her face. “Ruby!” She looked from Seth to Jessa and Clint. “What happened?” she cried.
Seth took a deep breath, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as if it were a struggle to speak. “Miss Evelyn, you know how confused Nana got sometimes. . .”
Jessa stared at the boy who called Ruby ‘Nana.’ Were they related?
He continued. “. . .when she would think Jessa had stolen her shop?” To Jessa’s dismay, Evelyn nodded.
Jessa looked over at Clint. This was too much. She needed his arms around her.
“Well, in the beginning, she talked me into helping her. Nothing that would really hurt anything.” His eyes held unspeakable sorrow as he looked at Jessa. “Just enough to make Jessa leave and give Nana back her shop.”
“But then lately she got wind of Jessa’s cabin burning, and she started trying to get me to burn the shop down. She said Jessa didn’t belong there.”
Evelyn gasped and put her hand to her heart. Jessa instinctively steadied her lifelong friend.
“I told her no way, but she wouldn’t quit about it. I didn’t know what to do, so today I finally told Clint. But it was too late.”
“Oh, Jessa, I’m so sorry.” Tears flowed down Evelyn’s face, and she squeezed Jessa’s hand. “I hope you can forgive me. It was Ruby’s mental confusion that made it necessary to sell the shop. I promised her I wouldn’t tell anyone.” She looked at her sister who was being loaded into the ambulance. “Bless her heart, when she was lucid, she knew she couldn’t handle it, but then other times. . .” Her voice broke. “I suspected that day you talked about accidents, but I questioned her after you left, and she acted like she had no idea what I was talking about. . .”
Jessa nodded. “She probably didn’t.”
“Will you press charges?”
Jessa shook her head. “Of course not, Evelyn. I wouldn’t think of it.”
“We’ll pay for any damages.”
“Go to your sister. We can talk about that later.”
Relief flooded Evelyn’s face as she hurried to the ambulance.
Seth touched Jessa’s arm. “I know it’s no excuse, but my mom died when I was born, and my dad took to the bottle. He’d lock me out sometimes and forget, but I was afraid to tell anyone. Afraid they’d take me away.” He nodded toward the ambulance. “Somehow Nana knew. She gave me a place to stay, and to save my pride, she gave me a job so I could pay my own way.” Tears sparkled in his brown eyes. “A couple of years ago, Dad straightened up for the most part, and we do okay now, but I’ve never forgotten what Nana did for me.”
“I understand, Seth.” She hugged the distraught boy.
Clint patted him on the shoulder. “You go on to the hospital with Ruby and Evelyn. They need you.”
Just as he turned to walk away, Jessa thought of something. “Oh, and Seth?”
“Yeah?”
“Be sure you aren’t late Monday. There’s going to be a lot of cleanup work to be done before you can start your deliveries again.”
He grinned, and for the first time since he’d arrived on the scene, he looked sixteen instead of a very worried thirty.
Once he was gone, Jessa turned to Clint. He nodded at the fire chief. “I have to go talk to him.”
“Yes, go ahead.”
She stood where she was for a few minutes, then taking a deep breath, headed into the building to inspect the damage. Dread plodded along beside her as she walked to the shop door and peeked in. To her immense relief, the physical damage appeared to be confined to the pile of artificial greenery Ruby had apparently gathered from the cabinet. The smoke would be another matter, but if Jessa tackled it right away, she wouldn’t have to be closed for long.
“What do you think?” She jumped at the sound of Clint’s deep voice close to her ear.
“I think I need a hug.”
“That really works out.” He took her in his arms and held her close. “Because I need one, too.”
After a minute, he held her at arm’s length to look at her, as if drinking in the sight. “Where were you when the fire started? I saw your car in the parking lot and thought. . .” He shook his head. “Where were you?”
“I was doing some flowers for a wedding, and I needed a color of ribbon I didn’t have. So I ran down to the dollar store to get it.”
He clutched her against his chest again, almost squeezing the air out of her.
“I left a note on the front door,” she squeaked.
He put his hand to her face and gazed into her eyes. Jessa was grateful that the emergency vehicles and their occupants, as well as the concerned neighbors, had all gone. She needed a private minute with her two-time hero.
Lakehaven’s only taxi—used almost exclusively for passengers flying into or out of the tiny local airport—squealed around the corner and came to a screeching halt three feet from Clint and Jessa. Probably some too-late tourist trying to get a front-row seat at a fire, Jessa thought.
Still folded in Clint’s safe embrace, Jessa gasped. The elegantly dressed man and woman climbing out of the backseat were no gawking sightseers.
Before Jessa could say a word, the woman yanked her out of Clint’s arms and hugged her tightly. “Oh, Jessa,” she cried. “My poor, poor baby.”
Twenty-three
Jessa’s nostrils burned from her mother’s signature perfume, but she knew it was useless to struggle. Betsy Sykes would release her when she got good and ready and not a minute before. Over her mother’s shoulder, she caught Clint’s puzzled gaze.
“Randall, did you pay the taxi? We need to get this poor child home.” Her mother eyed Jessa speculatively. “You do have a home, don’t you? When we got the health insurance statement saying you were treated for smoke inhalation, we drove straight to the airport. The taxi driver told us there was a fire here.” She stopped her tirade long enough to glance at the building. “Was there?”
“It was a minor incident. All taken care of now.”
Clint raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and turned away.
Jessa started to tell him to wait so she could introduce him to her parents, but her dad grabbed her in a bone-crushing hug. “It’s good to see you, Jessa girl. We were worried sick.”
With her mother still clutching her wrist, Jessa cast a glance back toward the shop, where Clint was quietly closing the door. He mouthed, “It’s locked,” and then, “I’ll see you later.”
Defeated, she nodded and meekly followed her worried parents to her car. She handed her father the keys and climbed into the backseat.
In between her mother’s guilt-inducing chatter, she directed her dad to her house. She instinctively glanced at the apartment above the McFaddens’ garage as they pulled into her driveway. The shock in Clint’s eyes when he saw how her parents treated her—how she allowed them to treat her—came flooding back. He would never return her feelings now. Defeat flooded her soul, and she allowed her mom to lead her up the sidewalk.
Using Jessa’s keys, her dad unlocked the do
or and shepherded his “girls” inside.
“Jessa!” Her mother moaned. “Someone else’s pictures are on the wall.”
“Well, when my cabin burned—”
“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell us that.”
“Jessa, we think you should move back home with us. This is not working out.” Her dad winked at her. “I saw a little flower shop that would be perfect for you not far from the house.”
Just as she felt the top of her head would blow off, her mother took over. . .again. “Lie down here on the sofa, dear, and let me fix us some hot tea. Randall, you can help me.”
Jessa knew from experience that they would go into the kitchen and discuss “difficult Jessa” and how best to “handle” her. A few minutes later, she felt her mother’s gaze on her, but she feigned sleep. It was something she’d gotten good at over the years.
How did they do it? She’d struggled so hard for the last several months to become independent. When she’d reached Arkansas, she’d vowed that no one was going to tell her what to do. And she’d stuck to it, almost to the point of sacrificing the man who’d stolen her heart. But now, twenty minutes in their presence and she was a bowl of mush.
It was a wonder she’d ever even gotten the gumption to move here in the first place. Suddenly, she remembered. It had been prayer that had gotten her here. She’d prayed and prayed and then kept her own counsel about things until the details were set in stone. She didn’t tell her parents until a few hours before she left.
But now they were here. And all of the independence she’d built up over the last few months had come crashing down.
Dear God, surely I am not as worthless as I feel, because I know You gave Your Son for me. Jessa paused and thought of the last few months. With her eyes still closed, she relaxed against the warmth of her loving Father. My newfound independence didn’t come from You, did it? You don’t need me to take physical risks or refuse help in order to prove I’m strong, do You? Tears pricked against her closed eyes. My independence comes from being made in Your image and in depending on You. Lord, I know my parents love me, but please give them the faith to let me go. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
Calm settled over Jessa, and strength flowed through her. She got up from the sofa and tapped on the kitchen door. Her parents’ furtive whispers died in the air. They both smiled at her. She smiled back.
“Mom, Dad, we have to talk.”
❧
Clint stared at Jessa’s back door. Ever since he’d let Jessa’s parents lead her away from the flower shop, he’d felt like he’d sent Mary’s little lamb home with the veal salesman.
Jessa needed him now, more than when she was rock climbing, more than when she was kayaking, and even more. . .he gulped. . .than when she was parasailing. She needed him to believe in her independence—to believe in her ability and right to stand on her own two legs. Even if it meant giving her the freedom to take risks and trusting God to take care of her. He tapped on the door.
Jessa opened the door, and her grin lit up her face. “I was about to go looking for you.”
“You were?” He peered over her shoulder, where he could hear her parents’ voices, but he couldn’t see them.
“Let’s walk.” She grabbed a sweater off the hook by the door. “I’ll be back in a little while,” she yelled toward the kitchen.
“Okay. We’ll be here.” The masculine reply didn’t hold any hint of the overprotective father Clint had encountered at the flower shop.
He raised an eyebrow. Jessa didn’t respond but slipped under his arm and started toward the swing by the lake. The deep layers of autumn leaves crunched under their feet.
When they sat close together on the swing, Jessa turned toward him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
For the first time since he’d known her, peace shone in her eyes. And something else he couldn’t quite identify.
He took her hand. “I discovered something today.”
“I did, too, but you go first.”
“I figured out that I’d walk through fire for you.” He gave her a rueful grin. “And for anyone else who needed me, too.”
“Oh, Clint.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m so glad.”
“I told the chief I’d join the department. God is able to handle things just fine without my help. I’m going to concentrate on just following His plan from now on. It’s amazing how much lighter I feel.” He nodded toward Jessa’s house. “What’s the story with your parents?”
Jessa smiled. “Leaning firmly on God, I finally stood up to them with love. It’s going to be hard for them, and they certainly won’t change overnight, but for the first time, they understand that their overprotective attitude was accomplishing the very thing they wanted to prevent. They were losing me.”
“Something that no one in his right mind would want to do.”
Tears welled in her eyes. She touched his face with her hand. “I was afraid that after you saw how I was with them, you wouldn’t come.”
“Nothing could keep me away,” he answered, leaning toward her and brushing away one tear that had broken free.
“Really?”
“Really.” With a sudden joyous leap, his heart recognized the something else shining in her eyes. God had blessed him with an incredible gift. As impossible as it seemed, this gorgeous, precious, independent woman loved him as much as he loved her.
About the Author
Christine Lynxwiler and her husband, Kevin, live in the foothills of the beautiful Ozark Mountains in their home state of Arkansas. Christine’s greatest earthly joy is her family, and aside from God’s work, spending time with them is her top priority.
Dedication
Dedicated to my incredible mom, Ermyl Elaine McFadden Pearle.
Also to the rest of my wonderful family, too numerous to name here, but you know who you are! (This includes my brother, Kenny Pearle, who is positive I’ll never dedicate a book to him, even though he’s the very best brother in the world.) Thank you all!
As always, thanks to my fantastic husband, Kevin, and the most precious two daughters anyone could ever have.
A huge thank you to my Father in heaven who makes each day possible.
Grateful acknowledgment to Don Morgan and his buddies at the Cherokee Village Fire Department for sharing their expertise. Any mistakes are mine alone.
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Christine Lynxwiler
Author Relations
PO Box 719
Uhrichsville, OH 44683
Through the Fire Page 14
