by Beth Wiseman
He stood in the center of the dusty barn, his arms slightly lifted. He realized he had been about to return her embrace. Although her hug had been brief, her warmth had flowed straight through him, and he ached to hold her again.
Tater whinnied, pulling him out of his stupor. The horse had been amazingly quiet during his conversation with Amanda. Weariness suddenly overcame him, both emotional and physical. He wanted to fall into bed and try to get this entire evening out of his mind.
But as he headed for the house, he realized that wouldn’t happen. He couldn’t put Amanda’s reaction out of his mind. She truly believed in God’s faithfulness, and a part of him wished he had her conviction.
Sleep didn’t come easily to Amanda that night. She tossed and turned, her emotions somersaulting as she tried to process everything Josiah had told her. She felt so clueless, so sheltered. Were there others in their community suffering the same fate as Josiah? Would she be able to tell if they were?
Unable to rest, she left her bed, walked to the window, and opened it. From here she had a clear view of Josiah’s house, although a large oak tree that stood between the two properties partially obscured the barn. The lights were out in his house, and she wondered if he was already asleep.
Despite her confusion about everything else, her love for Josiah hadn’t wavered. She had no idea how to convince him of that, or how to convince him of God’s love. After spending a few minutes breathing in the fresh air, she returned to bed. As her eyelids closed, she prayed not only for Josiah, but for herself.
The smell of smoke pulled her out of her fitful sleep. Fire! Panic shot through her as she jumped out of the bed. She ran to her brothers’ room and woke them up. “Outside, now!”
“What’s wrong, Mandy?” Thomas said sleepily.
“Don’t ask questions, just geh!”
She woke up the rest of her siblings and chased them down the stairs. Where was the fire? Where were her parents? Her terror increased as she realized the fire might be downstairs where she had sent the children. But if that was the case, why didn’t she see smoke?
“Amanda, what are you doing?” Her father met her at the foot of the stairs, his hair standing up in disheveled tufts all over his head. “Why are the kinder down here?”
“Can’t you smell the smoke, Daed?” But even as she spoke the words, she realized the scent wasn’t as strong down here. Maybe the fire was upstairs after all.
Daed inhaled deeply. “Ya, I smell something. But I don’t think it’s in our house.” He dashed to the front door, Amanda dogging his heels. He threw open the door and both of them stepped out on the front porch. The thick scent of smoke filled the air.
“Josiah!” Amanda exclaimed, realizing the smoke was coming from his property. She ran toward his house, ignoring her father’s calls. When she reached Josiah’s driveway, she saw huge flames coming out of the slats of the old barn. Her head jerked back and forth as she searched for Josiah, or a sign that Tater had escaped the fire. When she saw a dark figure dash inside the barn, she rushed toward the burning structure.
“Amanda! Halt!” Her father came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, holding her back. “You can’t go in there.”
She spun around. “Josiah’s inside!”
“I called the fire department from our call box. They’ll be here in a few minutes. There’s nothing else we can do.”
“If Josiah’s in there, he doesn’t have a few minutes.” Her nerves were stretched to their limits. “I can’t lose him, Daed. Not again.”
“You can’t save him, either, Amanda.”
Tears and smoke clogged her throat. She saw no sign of either Josiah or Tater. She grasped at a thin thread of hope that she’d been seeing things. He might be in his house, safely away from the fire. But seeing the fierceness of the blaze in front of her, she knew Josiah couldn’t possibly be in the house. He would be in the barn, trying to save his horse.
She folded her hands and tucked them under her chin, praying harder than she had ever prayed in her life. She squinted, willing him and Tater to come out. Please, Lord. Save them!
Then, in a direct answer to her plea, she saw them exit the barn, Josiah clinging to Tater’s bridle as he hunched over and coughed. As soon as he was clear, he let the horse go and fell to the ground.
“Josiah!” She ran and knelt next to him. Even though they were well clear of the blaze, she could feel the heat searing her back through her thin nightgown. The shrill sound of fire sirens pierced the air.
“Josiah,” she said again, cradling his head in her hands. Soot colored his face, and he remained very still. She leaned down and kissed his cheek, her unbound hair falling in a curtain around them both. “Say something. Please.”
He opened his eyes slightly, then coughed, his chest heaving from the effort. “Tater?” he asked in a hoarse voice.
She glanced up to see her father guiding the horse farther away from the burning barn. “Daed’s got her. She looks all right.”
Two fire trucks pulled alongside the driveway, engulfing Amanda and Josiah in their swirling light. Suddenly two men in paramedic uniforms hovered over her.
“Let us take a look at him,” one of them said. “Step back and give us room.”
She acquiesced, silently praising and thanking God for bringing Josiah out alive. His cough sounded horrible, and his T-shirt and pants were black. The paramedics helped him to a sitting position and gave him an oxygen mask. After he settled, one of the men came over to her.
“Looks like he’ll be all right. We wanted to take him to the hospital to get checked out, but he refused. Your husband is a very lucky man to have gotten out of there alive.”
Amanda started to correct him, then stopped. “Ya, he is. He’s a very lucky man.”
Chapter Thirteen
JOSIAH STOOD A FEW FEET FROM THE BARN, STARING AT its charred remains, watching thin tendrils of smoke snake up in the air as they greeted the rising sun. The firefighters had extinguished the blaze over an hour ago, but there were still a few hot spots in the rubble. They had assured him the fire had been completely put out. Not that it mattered anyway. The entire structure had burned to the ground.
He took a deep breath and felt a catch in his lungs. He coughed, the burn in his throat and chest mixing with his despair. The barn was a total loss. And while he supposed he should be grateful the fire hadn’t spread to the house or the Graber property, and that his horse had been spared, he couldn’t summon a speck of gratitude. He couldn’t afford to replace the barn. Even if he could, it would take him months to do it himself. He could sell the house and property without it, but without the barn he would take a significant loss.
His gaze landed on his buggy, which had caught fire after the fire department arrived. It also sustained damage, although it hadn’t been completely destroyed. Scorch marks streaked the gray enclosure and oak frame. He could probably do the repairs himself, but he would have to purchase the materials. Another expense he couldn’t afford.
“Josiah?”
He didn’t respond. When Amanda stood beside him, he couldn’t bring himself to look at her. He vividly remembered hearing her voice when he collapsed after leading Tater out of the barn. How she knelt beside him and kissed his cheek, her soft brown hair brushing against his face, keeping him from slipping into unconsciousness. If he allowed himself a single glimpse of her, he might fall apart right there.
“We just finished breakfast. I saved some for you.” She stepped closer to him, apparently waiting for him to answer.
“Not hungry.”
She hesitated a moment longer before saying, “Daed said Tater can stay in our barn as long as you need her to.”
“Tell him danki for me.” His voice sounded flat and emotionless to his own ears, reflecting how he felt inside. Empty. Hopeless.
“Did they tell you how the fire started?”
“The lantern exploded. I forgot and left it lit in the barn last night.”
“Josia
h, I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged. “No need for you to feel sorry. It was my own dumm fault.”
“But if I hadn’t lit the lantern—”
“It was my fault,” he snapped.
Amanda moved to stand in front of him. “I know you’re upset—”
“Upset? Why would I have any reason to be upset?”
“You can replace the barn, Josiah.”
“Nee, I can’t. I don’t have the money, Amanda.” He looked over her shoulder at the pile of black remains. “Or the will.” His gaze found hers again. “I guess God let me know how much He cares about me.”
“Surely you don’t believe this is God’s fault.”
“He didn’t stop it, did He?”
“Nee. But, Josiah, you’re alive. Your horse is alive.” She gestured to the burned barn behind her. “This pile of burnt wood and ash can be replaced. You can’t.” Her hand went to her mouth for a moment, and she swallowed. “I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you last night, Josiah.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her cheek against his chest.
He stood motionless for a second before succumbing to her embrace. Closing his eyes, he rested his chin on the top of her head, touching the stiff fabric of her kapp. Fatigue seeped into his bones. He was tired of the struggle, of fighting against everything—his feelings for Amanda, his past, his uncertain future. Only now, as he felt her tighten her arms around him, as he breathed in the sweet scent of her freshly shampooed hair, did he feel a semblance of peace. He longed to hold her forever, to tell her how much he loved her. But he didn’t dare. She’d said he had amazing inner strength, but compared to her, he had none.
“Amanda! Mr. Josiah!”
They broke apart as Andrew and Thomas neared. His first instinct was to send them away. They didn’t need to bear the brunt of his foul mood again. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead he walked toward them, meeting the boys at the edge of his driveway and the grassy yard.
“Wow,” Andrew said, gaping at what little remained of the barn. “That was some fire.”
“Mamm made us stay in the house.” Thomas rubbed his nose with the palm of his hand. “I wanted to come over, but she said nee.”
“I wanted to come over too!” Andrew stepped in front of his brother. “But we had to watch from the window.” His eyes grew wide with amazement. “Never seen a fire that big before.”
“Or so many fire trucks.” Thomas moved to Andrew’s side, not content to remain in his brother’s shadow for very long. He took in a deep breath. “It sure does stink! What are you going to do about the barn?”
“Not much I can do. It would cost me too much to fix it.”
The young boy’s face fell. “I’m sorry, Mr. Josiah.” Then he leaned over and whispered something in Andrew’s ear. Andrew nodded, and both boys took off running toward the house.
“Wonder what that’s about,” Amanda said.
“With those two, there’s no telling.”
“They think the world of you.” She moved closer to him. “So do I.”
He looked at her, incredulous. “Even after everything I told you?”
She nodded.
“Amanda, I can’t be trusted to hold my temper in check. I’m afraid . . . I’m afraid I might hurt you.”
“I’m not. I could never be afraid of you, Josiah.” She reached up and brushed back a lock of his hair from his forehead. “If I have to, I’ll spend the rest of my life convincing you of that.”
“Mr. Josiah!”
He turned at the sound of Thomas’s voice. The boys bounded toward him, each of them holding something in his hand. As they neared, he saw that each held a small, clear plastic baggie halfway filled with coins. The change jingled as they ran.
“Here.” Andrew held out his baggie to Josiah, and Thomas followed suit. “It’s all we got, but you can use it to rebuild your barn.”
Josiah crouched down in front of the boys, unshed tears burning his eyes. The bags were filled mostly with pennies, and he doubted they had more than six dollars between them. He could only imagine how long it had taken for them to save such a meager amount. Yet they were ready to part with it willingly, expecting nothing in return.
“Danki, buwe,” he said, then cleared his throat. He closed his hands over each of theirs, gently pushing the money back toward them. “I appreciate the offer, but keep your money. Spend it on something special.”
“But we are,” Thomas said.
“You have to have a barn, Mr. Josiah,” Andrew piped up. “Tater needs a place of her own.” He shoved the money back at Josiah.
“Take it,” Amanda said quietly as she crouched beside him. “I’m not the only persistent one in my family.”
“I can see that.” He accepted the small bags.
Andrew grinned. “I can help you clean up the mess, Mr. Josiah.”
“Me too!” Thomas added.
Josiah’s spirits suddenly lifted, and he nodded, smiling back. “You know I can use the help. I’ve got a broom in the house, but the shovel was in the barn.”
“I’ll get the broom,” Thomas volunteered and dashed to the house.
Not to be outdone, Andrew said, “And I’ll fetch Daed’s shovel. He won’t care if we borrow it for a little while.”
When the boys disappeared, Josiah turned and looked at Amanda. The scent of smoke still hung heavy in the air, but things didn’t seem as bleak as they had moments before.
She gave him a small smile. “The buwe will be back soon, eager to get started.”
“Ya.” He couldn’t move away from her, not yet.
“I have to get back home and help Mamm. Today is supposed to be washday, but I think we’ll wait until the smoke clears completely.”
“Gut idea. You don’t want to smell like a barbecue.”
“Nee, we don’t.” She reached up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered. “Just wanted to remind you of that.”
He turned and watched her walk away, wondering what he had done to deserve her love. Then he realized he had done nothing, because he didn’t deserve it.
“I found the broom, Mr. Josiah.”
“Gut,” Josiah said, still watching Amanda, waiting until she disappeared inside. He didn’t know how he would be able to walk away from her, from everything here.
But somehow he had to.
Josiah woke up the next morning to the sound of hammers pounding nails. He popped out of bed and ran to the window, rubbing his eyes as he tried to fathom what he saw. Amish men, at least twenty of them, were in his backyard, working in perfect sync. They had already nailed several beams of wood together where the south side of his barn had been, creating a partial wall.
They were raising a new barn.
He threw on his clothes, dashed downstairs and out the door. A few of the men looked at him. He recognized Ben Weaver and Aaron Lantz, who both waved at him, then continued their work, with Ben holding up one of the six-by-six square poles while Aaron nailed a two-by-four to the base of the pole at an angle for support. Several of the other men were doing the same. To his shock he even saw Peter pitching in, although he didn’t look too happy about it.
“You look surprised, Josiah.” Uncle John came up beside him.
“I am.” He pushed his hat back on his head, surveying the scene in front of him. “I truly am.”
“You shouldn’t be.” John clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You know our ways. When a person loses something in our community, the rest of us help out.”
“But I’m not part of your community.”
“That could change, you know. It’s up to you. You’re family, a part of ours, and a part of the Lord’s.” He dropped his hand from Josiah’s back. “Better get to work. Here,” he said, handing Josiah a hammer. “Geh and help Ben and Aaron. I don’t think that beam is straight.”
The beam looked straight enough, but he eagerly joined the others, still incredulous that so many had turned out to help him
. As the day progressed, even more men showed up. By the noon hour the women had arrived and were setting up tables of food on the Grabers’ lawn. It seemed the entire community had put their own lives on hold for a day to help him build his barn. And while he knew this was the Amish way, their generosity humbled him, a generosity he doubted he could ever return.
“Beautiful day for a barn raising, ya?” Leah Lantz stood to Amanda’s left and unwrapped a huge bowl of chicken salad. The faint scent of chicken, celery, and salad dressing wafted through the air.
“Ya,” said Rebecca Miller, on Amanda’s other side. She placed a tray of thinly sliced ham, turkey, and roast beef on the table. “That chicken salad smells delicious, Leah. Did you make it?”
“That’s the only thing she knows how to make,” Leah’s sister Kathleen said from the other side of the table.
Leah smirked at her. “I’ll have you know Aaron loves my chicken salad.”
“He’d better. He’ll be eating it every day for the rest of his life.”
Leah just responded to the dig with a soft smile.
Kathleen left to help some of the other women inside, clearing Amanda’s view of the men working on the barn. Her gaze zeroed in on Josiah, who was working near Ben and Aaron. Still holding the hammer, he pushed his hat back and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He had rolled his shirtsleeves up, exposing his tanned forearms.
“The barn is coming along quickly, isn’t it?” Rebecca asked.
“It always does when everyone helps out,” Amanda replied. She tucked the ribbons of her white kapp into the front of her dress and waved her hand in front of her heated face. The day had turned sultry, but the heat didn’t impede the men’s progress.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Leah said, moving closer to the other two women. “I’m not glad Josiah’s barn burned down, but I love a gut barn raising.”
“Me too,” Rebecca echoed. “It’s wunderbaar to see everyone come together to help someone in need.”