Wildflowers

by Robin Jones Gunn

  “I can smell the smoke, Mom,” Anna said as Genevieve parked the car. “Should we get out?”

  “No, let’s wait a minute.” Genevieve anxiously peered into the darkness. The front of the café seemed unaffected. The awning, bicycle, and flowerboxes all looked fine in the streetlight’s dim glow. “It might be all right,” she said. “A false alarm, maybe.”

  “Can’t we get out, Mom?” Mallory asked. “We won’t go in or anything.”

  “No, honey.” Genevieve rolled down her window. The smell of smoke became overpowering. “Let’s wait a minute.”

  She recognized Kyle’s truck parked at the end of Main Street. He appeared around the corner of the building wearing full firefighting gear.

  “He’s waving for us to come over there.” Anna opened her door.

  “Okay, stay with me, girls.”

  “We will, Mom. Don’t worry,” Anna said.

  As soon as they neared the café, they noticed the shattered glass on the sidewalk. The heat from the fire apparently had blown out the windows. The glass shards looked like frozen, sharp-sided snowflakes resting on the flowers and the sidewalk.

  “Oh, Mom.” Anna pointed to the black soot smears that shot up the front of the building. “Look.”

  In her shock at the sight, Genevieve thought for a moment that if the windows were the eyes of the café, then the smoke was like great smudges of mascara. Her Wildflower Café had been crying. And she hadn’t been there.

  Kyle met them and reached for Genevieve’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m so sorry to be the one to break this to you, Gena. I thought it might help if you got here now rather than later this morning.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “The kitchen is gone,” Kyle said.

  Genevieve held her breath.

  “And the dining room sustained enough smoke and water damage that I have a feeling the insurance will consider it a complete loss.”

  Genevieve felt as if the whole world suddenly tilted to the left.

  “The bicycle is fine.” Anna examined her contribution to the café with care.

  “Can we see inside?” Mallory slipped her hand into her mom’s.

  “Yes, I’ll take you around to the back.” Kyle turned on a large flashlight.

  “Any idea what started it?” Genevieve asked. “I’m sure I turned off the oven and stove.”

  “It was the wiring,” Kyle said. “This is an old building, as you know. It appears some smoldering was going on for a while with the wires inside the wall.”

  Genevieve remembered Brad’s experiencing a power failure the day before. “Was Brad’s shop affected?”

  “Somewhat, but not nearly as bad as the café. The initial problem might have been on Brad’s side of the common wall, but the fire broke through on your side, in the kitchen. We probably won’t be able to evaluate the extent of Brad’s loss until he has a chance to look at everything. He should be here pretty soon.”

  From the view afforded them by the light of Kyle’s flashlight, the kitchen looked like a ghastly black-and-white negative of what had only hours ago been Genevieve’s sparkling clean workspace. A gaping hole was in the backdoor where the firefighters hacked through with an ax, leaving jagged, splintered boards in their wake. All the hanging pots and pans above the stove were charred and distorted. Part of the counter was completely gone, melted into great stalagmites of foul-smelling plastics. The wall to the right was burned down, exposing the tiny bathroom where the metal paper towel dispenser stuck out like a blackened wart on the disfigured face of the only wall still standing. Chunks of the roof opened to the celestial darkness overhead.

  “This is awful,” Anna said solemnly. “How can it look so perfect out front and be this demolished inside?”

  “I suggest you get your insurance adjuster here first thing in the morning,” Kyle said. “When you come back in the daylight, be sure to bring a camera to record the damage as it is right now.”

  “Okay,” Genevieve answered numbly. “Is there anything else I should do?”

  “I know it’s hard, but try to keep your eyes on God and not on this situation.” The gentleness in Kyle’s tone washed over Genevieve, giving her a faint sense of comfort. Mostly she felt numb.

  “God is still in control,” Kyle said. “He gives us beauty for our ashes, you know. I see it happen all the time.”

  Genevieve nodded, but her insides had gone cold. She tried to think of her insurance agent’s name, but it escaped her. She tried to recall what kind of policy she had finally settled on, but she couldn’t remember. Her frantic thoughts jumped to the kitchen utensils that Leah had donated to the Wildflower. They were destroyed. How could she possibly replace all those gifts?

  “Are you all right?” Kyle asked.

  “Not really.” She felt too overwhelmed to cry.

  “If Jess and I can do anything, you call us, okay?”

  Genevieve nodded. “I guess all I can do now is go home and start to make calls in a few hours.”

  “Mom,” Mallory said, “you need to put a sign on the front door that says you’re closed.”

  “I think people will figure that out,” Anna said.

  “We’ll take care of all that,” Kyle said. “You can go on home, if you want. It looks like Brad’s car is pulling into the parking lot. I’ll check on you later today.”

  “Thanks, Kyle.”

  “Sure. You remember to call if you need anything.”

  Genevieve was about to go when Brad and Alissa dashed out of their car and joined Genevieve and Kyle. They all ended up spending the next half hour examining the damage by the light of Kyle’s flashlight and discussing what caused the problem.

  “I should have had the wires in the wall checked,” Brad said for the seventh time. “I knew it was shorting out with all my additional equipment running off the power. I made far too many assumptions about the old wiring’s capabilities.”

  “The café was pulling just as much power with the new appliances,” Kyle said. “My guess is that the stress was equal from both sides.”

  “I find it astounding that the café sustained so much damage while our side was barely affected,” Alissa said. Her shoulder-length, blond hair was pulled back in a clip so that it fanned out over the crown of her head like an ivory peacock tail. However, there was nothing proud or peacocklike about Alissa. She had a beautiful face. Even in the dim light, roused from bed, wearing no makeup, and full of concerned expressions, Alissa’s looks would compel others to let their gazes linger.

  “Mom, I’m getting cold.” Mallory snuggled up next to Genevieve.

  “We can go, honey,” Genevieve said.

  “I’ll come by your house later this morning,” Alissa said.

  “Okay, thanks. And thank you, Kyle.”

  “Sure, don’t mention it. I’m really sorry this happened to you.”

  “Yes, me, too.” Genevieve walked to the car with one arm around each of her daughters.

  “At least the tables were at the camp,” Anna said. “It will be easier to replace the card tables. Or at least it won’t cost so much.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “And like you told Alissa,” Mallory added, “all the food for tomorrow was already at Camp Heather Brook. It would have been worse if the food had gotten burned up.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Remember last year, when you catered the May Day event, our oven didn’t work?” Anna said. “That was a disaster.”

  “This was a worse disaster,” Mallory said as they got into the car.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  The girls continued to express their opinions as Genevieve started the car and drove down silent Main Street. At the corner she turned left and noticed that the sun was beginning to illuminate the morning. Low, thin clouds padded the sky like strips of cotton gauze covering a wound.

  Genevieve felt the throbbing of the wound in her heart at the loss of the café. Brad and the others had given lots of suggestions on how she could re
build and how the café would be even better. None of them had paused long enough for Genevieve to mourn. Not that she blamed them. None of them had suffered the same degree of loss she had.

  Why is it that I had such a definite spiritual moment last night by the tub, and then a few hours later my business is ruined? Did this happen because I told God I want to be made well? Why would He allow the only source of happiness in my life to be destroyed? He could have stopped this from happening. If God loves me, then—

  “Mom, you missed the street to our house,” Mallory chirped from the backseat.

  Genevieve turned the car around and felt shivers of shock racing up her spine. The whole world seemed to be spinning out of control.

  Why would God ask me if I want to be made well and then push me to the edge of a mental breakdown? Am I about to lose my mind?

  Adjusting the rearview mirror, she examined her expression in the pale morning light. Her face looked normal. Distraught, yes. But not destroyed, like she felt inside. She looked fine. Except for her eyes. They stared back at a jagged angle and looked as if they were rimmed with dark soot smudges.

  A frightening comparison flooded Genevieve’s raw mind. The café is like my life. On the outside, from a distance, no one would know my marriage has any problems. But inside I’ve been smoldering for a painfully long time. Is that what God is trying to show me? Is my life about to fall into ruin?

  She pulled into the driveway and pushed the button for the automatic garage door. The girls let out a cheer. Steven’s sports car was parked inside the garage. He was home early.

  Genevieve pulled into the garage and turned off the engine. Steven apparently heard them pulling in because he opened the backdoor. Still in uniform, he had a concerned expression on his face.

  Genevieve could imagine how disturbed Steven must have felt when he came home to find the house empty.

  For the first time in years, Genevieve ran to her husband, fell into his arms and wept.

  For the next hour, Steven became the strongest rock Genevieve had ever leaned on. He comforted her and the girls and fixed them hot tea and toast while Genevieve talked on the phone to Leah and gave her all the details. Mallory and Anna went back to bed while Genevieve sat shivering on the living room couch.

  Steven brought her a blanket and started a fire in the fireplace. He listened as she went over all the details for the third time. At last she stopped shivering.

  “Can I bring you some more tea?” Steven asked.

  “No, my stomach is too upset.”

  “Do you want to take a nap, or would it help if I tried to call the insurance company?”

  “I don’t think they’ll be in the office before nine.”

  “Why don’t you try to sleep for the next half hour or so? I’ll wake you up at nine.”

  “Steven, I think I should tell you something.”

  He sat at the end of the couch, and she put her blanket-wrapped feet on his lap. Steven began to rub her feet.

  “Something happened to me last night.” Genevieve could feel her heart pounding. She rarely had talked to Steven about any of the events in her spiritual journey. In the past she assumed he wouldn’t understand. Today she felt compelled to tell him what she had overheard Teri talking about at the café and how she turned off the bath water last night and sensed that the Lord was asking her if she wanted to be made well.

  “I said yes,” Genevieve said in a timid voice. “I don’t know what it means. I don’t even know why I’m telling you, but I thought something good was going to happen. I thought I’d feel better about myself and about our marriage. But the next thing I knew, the café was destroyed.”

  A fresh batch of tears welled up inside Genevieve. Her shoulders began to shake. “I don’t feel better,” she said before the first sob came over her. “I feel like everything is falling apart.”

  Steven’s expression remained steady. He didn’t tell her everything was going to be all right. He didn’t say, “See? That’s why I never put my trust in God.” All he did was listen.

  Genevieve tried hard to stop crying. “I don’t understand what went wrong.”

  “I don’t either,” Steven said solemnly.

  “I don’t understand God.”

  “Neither do I.”

  They sat together in silence. Genevieve realized that was something her husband always had done well. He was good at being with her, listening to her, and supporting her through difficult situations. When he was home, he was 1000 percent home and 1000 percent with her.

  What am I thinking? Steven is not here for me. Isn’t that what I’ve been saying all this time? How can I be sitting here thinking about how great it is that he’s with me?

  “I’m going upstairs to bed,” Genevieve said in a small voice. “I think I need to get some sleep.”

  “Good idea,” Steven said. “Would you like me to wake you at a certain time?”

  “Wake me at ten o’clock, if I’m not up already.”

  Genevieve fell into her unmade bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. She closed her eyes and saw the ghastly, black charred remains of the Wildflower kitchen etched on the inside of her eyelids.

  “My café,” she whimpered in a low moan. “My dream café.” Mercifully, exhaustion overtook her and silenced her with dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Eight

  It took more than a month for all the paperwork to clear with the insurance company and for Genevieve to receive payment on the settlement for the café. The amount was almost double what she had expected thanks to Collin Radcliffe, a Glenbrooke lawyer who volunteered to assist her even after she insisted she didn’t need help. Collin helped her to think of items she had forgotten to list on the original forms as well as what it would take to replace some of the built-in equipment at the current market price.

  The stroke of brilliance that put Collin at the top of the list of local heroes was that he researched the history of the café’s site. He discovered that section of Main Street originally had been the site of a library. In fact, it was the first library west of the Rockies that had been established in any logging town.

  Genevieve failed to see why Collin grinned so broadly when he delivered all the documents to her a week and a half after the fire. Then he opened a file, and it all became clear. Since the site was a historical landmark, they could apply for funds from not only the Oregon state government but also the federal government. Certain criteria had to be followed, such as the placement of a historical marker in front of the café.

  The promise of additional funds for rebuilding the café launched Genevieve into a planning frenzy, and for almost a month she had dreamed bigger dreams than ever for the café. Having such a consuming project had a wonderful effect on her energy and contentment level. Steven was home and that made it easy for her to ignore her harbored anger toward him. They worked together with polite consideration.

  The only time during the month after the fire that Genevieve felt a sense of panic was on the Wednesday right after the fire. She remembered that Jessica and her small circle of friends were to hold their Bible study that afternoon at two-thirty. All that morning Genevieve thought about Jessica and her group. It certainly wouldn’t be a problem for them to meet at Jessica’s large home, as they had done in the past.

  But Genevieve struggled with the realization she wanted to be there with them. She wanted to hear what they had to say and inch her way back into a closer connection with God. She wanted to tell someone about her mysterious moment before her bath when she thought God was asking her if she wanted to be made well. She felt drawn to the light.

  However, Genevieve’s pride wouldn’t allow her to call Jessica and say this was finally the day she could and would come.

  The others will think I’m only turning back to God because the café was demolished.

  I don’t know what chapter they were studying during the week, so I won’t have notes or thoughts to contribute to the discussion.

  When the café is b
ack up and running, I probably won’t be able to continue with the group, so it’s pointless to start something I can’t finish.

  Two-thirty came and went on that Wednesday, and Genevieve closed the door in her mind labeled “Jessica and the Bible study group.” She pressed on with her plans to remodel the café more intensely than ever.

  As the weeks went on, good-hearted, steady Steven stood with Genevieve, making few demands and even fewer complaints. He took extra time off so he could be available to her and the girls. He did extensive yard work and built shelves in the garage. He accompanied Mallory on her class field trip to the planetarium and drove Anna and two of her friends to the mall in Eugene. Steven and Genevieve spent most of their conversations discussing the girls and the café.

  Five weeks after the fire an invitation came for their family to attend a special celebration for the arrival of Brad and Alissa’s adopted daughters from Romania. The ceremony was to be held the second Sunday in June as part of the morning service. Out of the blue, Steven announced he wanted them to go, as a family, to show Brad and Alissa their support.

  Genevieve was sitting at the kitchen table with a stack of papers when Steven walked in and stood beside her with a glass of iced tea in his hand.

  “Did you see this in the mail?” Steven asked.

  “No. Anna brought in the mail, but I haven’t looked at any of it. My bookkeeping system has gotten a little behind.” That morning the builder had asked Genevieve for a significant-sized check. She didn’t have her accounts balanced yet and wasn’t sure she could write the check.

  That’s when Steven showed her the invitation and made his announcement about the four of them attending church Sunday.

  Genevieve put down her pen. “The event for the girls is being held at the church.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ve never gone to church before. For any reason.”

  “I know.”

  Genevieve examined her husband’s calm face. “I’m sure Brad and Alissa will know that we support them even if we can’t make it to the service.”