In Times Gone by

by Tracie Peterson

  Micah came up behind his mother. The top of her head didn’t even reach his shoulder. He leaned over and rested his chin atop her hair. “And what would you have me do?”

  She whirled around, nearly smacking him with the broomstick she held. “Micah! Oh, praise God! We were so afraid. Joseph! Joseph, come and see. Micah is home!” She embraced him without reservation. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m exhausted. I’ve worked since the quake with very little sleep. I just wanted to stop here and rest a little before I go see if Caleb and the others are all right.”

  His father came into the room. He looked so tired. “Micah! Oh, son, it’s good to have you home.” He too embraced Micah. “The others are just fine. I speak to Caleb every day. They’re all over at the warehouse he bought. They’ve set it up to help those who’ve no other place to go.”

  “And Kenzie?”

  His father smiled. “She’s fine, Micah. Just fine.”

  Micah felt relief wash over him. He swayed and shook his head as his father reached out to steady him. “I’m all right. I just need to rest a bit.”

  Without a word, his father took him in hand as he had often done when Micah was a small boy. His father handed Micah’s medical bag to his mother, then pulled him through the house and past all the chaos. At the end of the hall, he opened the door to Micah’s room and ushered him inside. Micah sank onto the edge of his bed, and for a moment it escaped him as to what he should do next.

  His father helped him from his coat, then pushed Micah back toward the pillow. “Lie down, son.”

  Micah nodded, eased back onto the bed, and closed his eyes. He could feel his father undoing the laces of his shoes and pulling them from his feet, but after that, nothing.

  CHAPTER

  3

  Micah. Micah, wake up!”

  Opening his eyes just a fraction of an inch, Micah saw his mother’s worried expression. “What’s wrong?” His tongue felt like it was coated with ash.

  “I’m so sorry. I know you haven’t had but a few hours of sleep, but we have an emergency.”

  The word emergency brought Micah fully awake. He sat up and glanced around for his shoes. “What is it?”

  “The Walters boy. He was working with his father today over at their burned-out house. He went through one of the floorboards and has a bad gash on his leg. He’s bleeding. A lot.”

  Micah found his shoes at the end of the bed and quickly stepped into them. “Did you put on a tourniquet?”

  “Yes. But then I came for you.”

  “Good.” He bent to tie his shoes. “I’ll need a clean, clear space to work.”

  “I’ve already got him on the kitchen table.”

  Micah smiled up at his mother. “You’d make an excellent nurse. Care to assist me?”

  She smiled. “You know I would never expect you to manage alone.”

  He straightened. “Where’s my coat?”

  She looked around. “Oh, there.” She went to the dresser. “Your father must have left it here. Goodness, it’s filthy.”

  “I know. I haven’t time to worry about it, but it seems wrong to put on my Sunday coat without a bath.” He shrugged into the jacket.

  “No one will care. Come on.” His mother exited the room, motioning for him to follow.

  Micah made his way to the kitchen, where Mr. and Mrs. Walters stood beside their son. Mrs. Walters’ face was ashen, and she bit her lower lip as if to keep herself from crying out. Mr. Walters didn’t look much better, but he kept his jaw clenched in a stalwart manner.

  “Tell me what happened,” Micah said, looking down at the boy. “It appears you had quite an adventure.” He loosened the tourniquet. The wound oozed blood but didn’t gush like he’d feared it might.

  The twelve-year-old was pale and doing his best not to cry. “We were trying to clear out . . . ah . . .” He writhed in pain and looked at his dad.

  Mr. Walters put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “It’s all right, Frank.”

  Micah assessed the wound on the boy’s calf. The eight-inch cut wasn’t all that deep. He smiled at Frank. “This could have been a whole lot worse. I think you’ll be fine. We’ll just wash it out and sew it up. I’ve got some medicine with me that will help with the pain. You’ll probably sleep, in fact.”

  Frank’s eyes were wide. Perspiration lined his upper lip. He gave a little nod, but Micah could see the pain was more than the child or his mother could bear. Mrs. Walters was equally pale and in tears.

  “Mrs. Walters, why don’t you wait outside? It’s sometimes easier for young men if they don’t have to worry about upsetting their mothers.” Micah smiled at the harried woman. “Mr. Walters, if you want to stay, I could probably use your help to keep Frank steady. At least until the medicine takes hold.”

  Mr. Walters nodded and looked at his wife. “You go on outside, Essie. No since worryin’ the boy. Frank’s gonna be just fine.”

  Mrs. Walters looked as though she was torn between escaping the misery of her child and staying to help.

  Micah tried to reassure her. “My mother will stay here and assist me. I’ll send her out to you as soon as we’re finished.”

  Finally, Mrs. Walters gave a slight nod. She leaned down and kissed her son on the head, then left the room. She paused only a moment at the back door and then was gone.

  Micah found his black bag and took out a bottle of strong medication. His mother brought a spoon and helped him administer the thick syrup to the boy. While he waited for the medicine to take effect, Micah instructed his mother to bring soap, water, and bandages. He knew she’d have everything he needed. Ever since Micah had finished his surgical training, people would drop by the house for help with one injury or another. Mother had started keeping basic medical materials around the house for just such occasions. It wasn’t at all unusual to come home and find her tearing up old sheets to make bandages.

  The exhaustion he’d felt earlier seemed to disappear as Micah focused on the injury. He loved what he did—treating the wounded, healing the sick. He was born to be a doctor. Even as a child, he had taken to treating injured pets. Blood had never bothered him. Blood was life. His father had often preached about the saving blood of Jesus, after all. Micah supposed it was things like that which made it seem a wondrous thing rather than a fearful one.

  Once Frank was dozing, the work went quickly. Making small stitches, Micah couldn’t help but remember repairing Kenzie’s fingers not so long ago. She had been so frightened—so vulnerable. She always worked so hard to hide her emotional wounds, but when the glass had sliced her fingers, she hadn’t been able to hide that. She hadn’t wanted Micah’s help, but at the same time, he’d known that he was the only one she truly needed. Not just for his medical expertise. It was something more. He knew Kenzie had feelings for him, but they were buried under layers of betrayal and pain.

  I’ll help her see that we belong together.

  It was a promise he’d made himself more than once that week. Seeing so much death and destruction, Micah needed to believe there was hope for beauty and life.

  “There,” he said, putting in the final stitch. He felt a deep sense of satisfaction when he stepped back to consider his work. “Mother, please wrap it snug, but not too tight.” He looked to Mr. Walters. “You’ll need to keep him off that leg. We need to give the skin a chance to knit.”

  “We still have that pair of crutches we could loan,” his mother offered as she wrapped bandages around a thick padding of bleached cotton.

  Micah nodded and washed his hands in the basin of soapy water his mother had provided. “Good. Frank’s a tall boy, so they should be just fine.”

  “Son, why don’t you go back to bed?” His mother’s expression was tender and proud.

  “No, I’ll rest later. Right now, I need to go see someone.”

  He began to gather his things. “Just leave those,” Mother told him. “I’ll clean them and have them ready for you when you return.” She smiled and retur
ned her attention to the boy’s leg. “Tell Kenzie we said hello.”

  He chuckled and leaned over to kiss her cheek. “You know me too well.”

  “Well enough that I won’t even bother suggesting you take a bath and put on clean clothes.”

  Micah was already heading for the door. “That would take too much time.”

  Kenzie’s frustration and anger at failing to get through the barricaded lines left her feeling out of sorts with everyone. Her mood was as gray as the rain-laden clouds. Why could no one understand her need to find George? She just wanted to see him—to know he was all right. He could be hurt and in need of help.

  “I need to find him,” she muttered under her breath, but for just a moment, it wasn’t Cousin George’s face she saw. It was Micah’s. Her heart was betraying her again.

  She marched into the warehouse, thoroughly annoyed with herself. Kenzie knew if she didn’t get a hold on her feelings, Camri and Judith would never leave her be.

  “Oh, Kenzie! Come and hear the good news!” Judith exclaimed. She hurried across the room to take Kenzie’s arm. “Caleb and Patrick have come from speaking with the mayor. You won’t believe what’s happened.”

  Joining the happy foursome was the last thing Kenzie wanted to do. However, she knew if she refused or tried to avoid the situation, it would only stir up more attention. She let Judith pull her toward the others.

  “Tell Kenzie what you just said,” Judith encouraged.

  Patrick’s smile stretched from ear to ear, but it was Camri who spoke. “The mayor has agreed to reinstate Patrick’s business license. He’s going to be allowed to help with the rebuilding.”

  “Not only that,” Caleb interjected, “but he agreed to issue Patrick a voucher in order to repurchase the things taken from him. We might even be able to get back his family home. Mayor Schmitz said he would check into it.”

  Kenzie knew without being told what was coming next.

  “With everything in order, we told the girls to set the wedding date,” Caleb finished, putting his arm around Judith.

  Camri leaned into Patrick’s hold. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

  “It is.” Kenzie forced a smile. “It truly is. I’ll be glad to help you with the plans.”

  Camri gave Kenzie’s hand a squeeze. “And one day we’ll do the same for you.”

  Kenzie didn’t want to tell her friend that she didn’t believe that day would ever come. Instead she gave a little nod. Before Camri could say anything else and cause more unintended pain, Kenzie spoke up. “I posted the notes about Cousin George and Dr. Fisher.”

  “What’s that?” Caleb asked.

  Camri nodded and let go of Kenzie’s hand. “We heard about the board being put up at the relief camp so people could post notes about their missing loved ones. We thought we’d put up notices that we’re trying to find George Lake and Micah.”

  “That was a good idea, but I wish you hadn’t gone by yourself,” Caleb said, fixing Kenzie with a stern look. “It’s not safe out there.”

  Kenzie knew the dangers well enough. “We felt we had to do what we could. And now I’m back.” She shrugged. “And no worse for the trip.”

  “Well, next time you want to do something like that, let me or Patrick know, and we’ll go with you or arrange for someone else to do so.”

  Kenzie nodded, knowing it was senseless to argue. To her relief, a young soldier entered the warehouse.

  “Who’s in charge here?” he called out.

  Caleb immediately went to him. “I am. Have you brought us supplies?”

  “Yes, sir. Where do you want them?”

  “Just bring them in here. We don’t want them getting wet. It hasn’t started to rain yet, has it?”

  “No, sir, but it looks to pour any minute. If you can lend a hand, we can get everything inside faster.”

  “Of course.” Caleb gave Patrick a nod. “How about it?”

  “I’d be insulted if ye didn’t ask me,” Patrick said with a grin.

  “We’ll all help,” Camri said. “I’ll get some of the residents to help as well. Good thing we finished clearing out the corner. We’ll just stack it all over there.” She pointed to the far side of the warehouse room.

  Kenzie followed the others and picked up a twenty-five-pound bag of beans. She thought back to the days she’d helped her father in the mercantile. Her great-uncle had owned the store, but her father managed it. He did such a good job that eventually his uncle left him not only the store, but also a tidy sum of money. It had taken her father from a position of workingman to owner, and eventually into a relaxed retirement. Of course, even that hadn’t been good enough to put her on equal ground with the likes of Arthur Morgan’s family. She knew they had never approved of her. They’d made their feelings well known.

  She tried not to let the pain of those memories fuel her anger at failing to find George. It wouldn’t help matters for her to get lost in times gone by. Nothing positive could be gained by remembering her mistakes.

  Kenzie made trip after trip with the others, going back and forth and carrying whatever she could until her arms ached. The hard work helped clear her mind. The army had been generous with the amount of food they’d sent. The folks at Solid Rock wouldn’t eat high on the hog, as folks might have said back in Missouri, but at least they would eat.

  Once the wagon was unloaded, the work to inventory and put everything away began. Camri organized the residents, and Kenzie decided to catch up on some cleaning. With the kitchen area void of people for the time being, she could get the floor scrubbed. She discarded her hat and coat and pulled on an apron to protect her dress. A pail awaited her at the back door. She picked it up, grimacing. She’d worn a blister on her hand from all the toting and fetching she’d been doing.

  Better not let Micah see it, she mused. He’ll no doubt think he needs to render medical attention. Of course, he’d need to be there in order to do so. She frowned. Please, God, let him be all right.

  Outside, the caldrons were bubbling with fresh hot water. Sprinkles of rain had begun to fall, causing Kenzie to hurry as she filled the bucket, but it was no use. The rain was pouring steadily by the time she made her way back into the warehouse. She bent to place the pail of water on the kitchen floor, and a strand of wet hair fell across her forehead. With a sigh, Kenzie straightened and pushed it back into place. It was impossible these days to worry about keeping up appearances. To think she had been worried about keeping ash out of her hair. Thankfully everyone else was in the same position, and no one really cared. Fighting to stay alive had taken precedence over every other earthly concern.

  Kenzie added soap to the water and picked up her scrub brush. She got on her hands and knees and began the rhythmic motions of cleaning. There was something calming in the mundane washing of the floor, although she’d gladly give up the job should someone else want it.

  Camri’s raised voice caused Kenzie to look up. Her friend was in a heated discussion with Patrick regarding something. Her arms flailed in different directions as she pointed and tried to explain her desires. Kenzie couldn’t help but smile as Patrick moved closer and bent until they were almost nose to nose. He countered her commands with a few of his own. They were a feisty couple, to be sure. Kenzie had never once argued like that with Arthur. Of course, she fought like that with Micah all the time. Micah Fisher was possibly the most obstinate man she’d ever known.

  How she longed to see him—just to know he was all right.

  And then, as if he knew what she were thinking, Micah appeared at the door of the warehouse. He was drenched from the rain and filthy from what had no doubt been hours of tending patients. His dark blue eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. The look on his face was determined.

  Kenzie’s gaze locked on him. She was unable to look away. Her heart beat faster, and she dropped her brush. Caleb and Camri spied Micah and rushed to his side. Judith gave a squeal of delight and came from where she’d been helping make up the cots. They all crowde
d around him, everyone talking at the same time. Micah nodded and even commented, but still he searched until his eyes met Kenzie’s. She watched as his stern expression changed. The corners of his mouth lifted in that smile he often got when dealing with her. Without warning, he stepped past his friends and marched across the warehouse like a man on a mission.

  What was he doing? Kenzie thought about standing but wasn’t sure her legs would support her. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t look away. She watched Micah move toward her and then felt her breath catch in her throat as he reached down to take hold of her. He drew her to her feet without so much as a word and then pulled her tightly to him. Kenzie could only look up in wonder, which made it easy for Micah to complete his next move. With one hand still holding her fast, he put his other hand to the back of her head and lowered his mouth to hers.

  The kiss was unlike anything Kenzie had ever experienced. There was a hunger, a desperation in the way he kissed her. Almost without realizing what she was doing, Kenzie’s arms went around his neck, and she began to kiss him in return.

  She lost track of time altogether. They might have been that way for mere seconds or days. It didn’t matter. The effect was overwhelming and rendered her completely speechless as he pulled away.

  “The thought of doing that is all that got me through the week,” Micah said, grinning like a mischievous child. “I’m so glad to see you’re all right.”

  Kenzie just stared at him in dumbstruck silence. Caleb and the others were coming toward them, and the looks on their faces left little doubt that they were just as stunned as she was.

  Micah released her and turned to face the others. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you, but I had business to take care of.”

  Caleb laughed. “Seems your business is similar to our own.” He looked at Camri and Judith with raised brows. “Maybe you girls should be planning a triple wedding instead of a double.”

  CHAPTER