by LoRee Peery
Moselle felt the size of a mouse. Had she been acting like a spoiled child, as though she were the only one in the world who had experienced hurt?
“I heard about the car accident, Beth. Are you all right?”
“The seat belt bruised a rib when it locked, but I’m in better shape than my car.” All expression left Beth’s face. “There will be rumors flying. You used to be a good listener, so I’d like to tell you the truth.”
Moselle knew all about rumors.
“I made another poor marriage choice.”
If rumor proved true, that would be Beth’s third. She tuned back in to Beth’s voice. Then again, the one in the middle hadn’t married Beth.
“This last guy left me with visible bruises.” Beth scrunched her eyes into a squint and her lips tightened. “By the grace of God, I somehow escaped getting killed.”
Moselle empathized but didn’t interrupt.
Beth gave a raw chuckle. “Or kill him. The only thing I had left was the car. Thank God it’s in my name. I mean was. It’s totaled. I had insurance.”
Beth shot Moselle a defensive glare. “I was in protective housing when I came to my senses. And Jesus came to me. I’m no longer looking for a man to supply what is lacking within my own self.”
Moselle twisted the dangling turquoise at her right ear. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Running into you is a bonus I hadn’t considered when I headed back to Platteville. So I don’t have to hunt you down now.” A distant look came into Beth’s eyes. “I’d like to be forgiven for the past and would consider it a great gift if we could be friends again.”
“Only time will tell, I guess.” Moselle couldn’t help but relent. “We’ll look for some common ground then. Maybe I can get a Bible study going for a few weeks.”
“Oh, I’d like that.” Beth unclenched the hold she had on her purse. Her light blue eyes brightened. “I still find it hard to believe that the Lord can redirect a life as sinful as mine, Moselle. All I had to do was repent and accept.”
“That’s all any of us have to do.” Moselle looked deep and saw the wide eyes of the little girl who once was. “Now, how would you like a gift from Frivolities?”
At Beth’s puzzled look, Moselle swung her around by the elbow. “Mom and Aunt Lanae have the most gorgeous purses right over this way. Key lime. Banana cream. Raspberry sherbet.”
“Sounds like ice cream flavors.”
Their laughter cleared the air.
“Better than ice cream,” Moselle commented, “in my humble opinion. Purses don’t have calories.”
She stopped at the purse display, trying to ease out of their heavy discussion. “You need this electric blue bag. It’s the exact shade of your eyes.”
When Beth hesitated, Moselle questioned her own motives. Was she wrong by offering Beth the gift?
“You may think I need a purse because mine is so ramshackle,” Beth said, while pulling at a frayed seam.
Moselle waited.
Beth traced the iridescent sequins on the modish new bag with her fingertips. “But only God can provide what I really need.”
“Couldn’t you say that He’s providing this fabulous purse, a little bit of fancy fun, through me?”
Moselle watched Beth swipe away the tear on her cheek and then run a finger under the opposite eye. In seconds, Beth’s light gray-blue eyes washed bright. “All right, I accept as long as it comes with your forgiveness.”
Conversation was interrupted by the wail of sirens.
****
The muggy morning was dark with the promise of rain when Eric stepped out his front door on the way to his office. By the time he reached the truck parked in the driveway, his clothes were damp from huge raindrop splotches.
Ten minutes later, Chief Kory notified him a 911 dispatcher from Lincoln had taken a fire call. “Actual flames,” Schaeffer announced, which meant the allotted crew had to suit up.
As a first responder, Eric jumped into action and was at the fire hall in record time.
The organized hubbub of men racing and dressing in heavy brown pants and boots kicked Eric’s adrenalin into high gear. By the time he grabbed his own fire coat made of heavy nomex, helmet, and gloves; five other firefighters were hurtling out the door right along with him.
Sirens screamed. Eric saw the bright orange flames and billowing black smoke pouring from a small window, probably a bedroom.
He knew this house. Beth’s aunt Mary and cousin Cassandra lived here.
Eric sucked in a disgruntled breath. The movement jerked his gut into a sour knot. The only time he disliked his job was when children were in danger. Cassandra had a daughter, not in school yet.
Then again, maybe no one was home.
The square red and white rescue unit was already parked at the curb, engine running. EMTs Becky White and Lee Kohl were first on the scene, as usual.
He leaped off the personnel carrier. All action came automatically now.
The front door opened when Kory turned the knob. He went counter-clockwise, searching for any occupants. Eric knew Kory would cover the kitchen and check the connecting garage. Eric went in second, sweeping the main living area clockwise.
Behind Eric came Marty Marolf and Rainn Harris, holding on to the hose from the pumper. They all faced the black smoke, now billowing from the hall on their right.
The powerful hose had things under control in mere minutes; the fire appeared to be confined to a futon. Flames were no longer visible, but smoke lingered.
Eric stepped over the hose and dropped to a crawl. He flashed his light under a twin-sized bed. Closet doors stood open and toys littered the floor. He exited that room, took a left and ran into a stuffed toy bunny lying on the floor. He swept the bathroom, checking behind the door and in the tub. All clear.
Lord, I hope the little one isn’t here…
He heard a whimper and asked for divine assistance. Entering the other bedroom, he went from right to left, and found the little girl crouched on the floor between a dresser and a large potted plant.
“Hey, sweetie, you’ll be fine now.” He whipped off his glove and ran a gentle hand over her hair.
“Are you a fireman?”
“I am.”
At his nod, she reached out with both arms. “I’m scared.”
“You should be. But I can tell you’re brave, too.” He swept her up and held her close. “And you’re safe, now.”
Eric scooped up the stuffed animal on their way back through the living area where the smoke was clearing. He handed her the purple bunny with pink polka-dot ears.
Once outside, he saw that her yellow pajama bottoms were rucked, so he smoothed them down to her ankles and headed for the rescue unit. “What’s your name?”
“Emily,” she answered in a quiet voice.
She clung to his neck and wouldn’t let go, so he held her on his lap while Becky listened to Emily’s lungs.
He looked over her head to the front lawn. The futon still smoldered while two firefighters carried it onto the lawn.
“Hi Emily, I’m the chief. Do you know how the fire started?” Kory was in full chief mode, but used a gentle tone with the little girl.
She turned around in Eric’s lap and grabbed his arm, snuggling against it for security.
Becky took advantage of the movement and put her stethoscope against Emily’s heart.
After listening for a moment Becky asked, “Is your throat OK, or is it sore?”
“It’s OK.” Emily looked up at Eric, who gave her knee a gentle squeeze, before he turned to Kory.
“I did it.” Emily started to cry. “My mommy will be mad. But there were butterflies in the candle and I wanted to touch one.”
“You were curious. I think your mommy and grandma will just be glad that you didn’t get hurt.” Kory Schaeffer smoothed a hand over the little girl’s fine hair. “Where is your grandma?”
“Time for a little oxygen,” Becky White interrupted them. “Emily, I’
m going to put this mask on your face now. Don’t be afraid. Take a sniff like you want to smell a beautiful flower.”
While she covered Emily’s nose, Kory went off to do what a fire chief does.
Eric scanned the group of curiosity seekers. Still no sign of Mary or Cassandra.
When Becky folded up her equipment, Eric turned from the rescue unit, Emily secure in one arm. He wondered who to hand her to.
He stopped in his tracks and jerked off his hat, careful to not alarm the girl.
Why in the world is Moselle here with Beth?
****
That night Moselle sat in the porch glider, gently swaying. It had been quite an eventful day.
Her mother’s music drifted through the kitchen window. Moselle sure identified with the lyrics. Make the world go away. No doubt from hearing the song as a girl, she knew Eddie Arnold was the vocalist.
How could she begin to sort out her feelings? She felt like she was being forced into giving up something of herself. Or maybe selfishness, a voice whispered to her soul.
Eric and Beth both sought her forgiveness. She needed to find a way to forgive them, and change how the town viewed her.
But if she gave in to their offers of friendship, would she be setting herself up for more hurt? And when she hurt, the searing pain took her breath.
As she looked back, she wondered. Maybe she hadn’t felt successful due to low self-worth. For sure, Beth and Eric’s betrayal, their rejection, had scarred her.
While away from Platteville, she had merely existed. She hadn’t really taken part in life or lived in the moment. Now, with Eric, she wanted to feel alive again.
Moselle hitched a sigh that caught before she exhaled. This was getting to be spooky, thinking of a person and having her or him appear.
“Hey.” Eric bounded up the front porch steps, never taking his gaze from hers. This could become a habit, his turning to her at the end of the day. His red uniform shirt was splotched in a few places from the big raindrops that had once again begun to fall.
They broke eye contact when he sat beside her. With one heel Eric set the glider in motion. When he put his arm across her shoulders, it was natural to snuggle in. She lifted her legs onto the cushioned seat and leaned against his side.
She sighed in contentment then raised a lazy arm to trace the flag patch over Eric’s right shirt sleeve. She longed for time to stand still. She wanted to stay here forever, safe in the muscular arms of her life-saving hero.
“So.” When he finally spoke, the lifting of his chest moved his shoulder against her ear, “I’ve waited all day. Want to tell me what you were doing with Beth?”
“It definitely wasn’t planned.”
“It was quite a shock, seeing the two of you together.”
“You think it wasn’t surreal for me?”
Moselle resettled her cheek on his shoulder, just above the Platteville Volunteer Firefighter insignia patch.
“Beth came to see me at Frivolities.”
She lifted her chin so she could look at him. “It’s rather dumbfounding and erases defensive retorts when a person changes because of God. She told me she was sorry.”
“She left a voice message for me.”
Moselle raised her chin in order to see his face.
A furrow formed in Eric’s brow. “She basically said the same thing to me. I didn’t call her back.”
He kissed her, ever so gently above Moselle’s lip on the right side.
“That irresistible mole, you know.” Eric straightened. She slid her head next to his heart. His words seemed to rumble beneath her cheek, creating an echo to what she heard with her ears.
“You can sort out your forgiveness and what Beth’s revelation means to you later. Now, I want to know why the two of you came to her aunt’s house. Together.”
Moselle blinked and closed her eyes, breathing in Eric’s fresh shower-and-man scent. She longed to burrow deeper into his strength.
“Neither of us had driven downtown. Her car was totaled, you know, and I’ve been walking from Mom’s house since the mornings are so gorgeous. Anyway, someone up the street said ‘Mary Jorgenson’s house,’ so we ran after the trucks we’d already seen. The rescue unit raced past us in that direction.”
Scenes from the fire chased one after another through her mind—the squeals and whoops of the sirens, the shouts of men working together, the neighbors milling around, the sheriff’s cruiser, and the blinking blue and red lights.
Beth’s panic. The way she froze and trembled when the cruiser pulled up.
And Moselle would never forget the lump that gathered in her throat at the sight of Eric, coming through the door carrying Emily. When she watched him, ever so gently, smooth the pajama bottoms over little Emily’s legs, Moselle knew he would be a good father.
“You were pretty mad when you asked Beth where Mary and Cassandra were.”
“And then Mary ran up and yanked Emily from my arms. That’s all it takes. A minute. She left Emily playing in the backyard sandbox while Mary went to look at a neighbor’s new quilt.”
“Since Cassandra was working and Emily was in Mary’s care, I suppose there will be charges filed,” Moselle said.
“Imagine so. A deputy sheriff was there. It’ll be in the statistical data report.”
“Now you’re losing me with your heavy talk.” Moselle sat up and pushed the glider into a faster rhythm. “So, what’re your next plans for the loft?”
Eric stretched out his leg and stopped the swaying movement. “We can talk about footings and setting posts another time.”
Moselle stiffened her back at his serious tone.
He emphasized his next words with a soft fist against the arm rest. “I won’t give up on getting close to you, Moze. I’m convinced we’re meant to be.”
Before engaging a thought that made any sense, Moselle blurted, “I think I can forgive you both. But I’m not ready to give more.”
Yet.
“Whatever we did or did not do to each other in the past, I think we both took our friendship for granted. Then our love.”
Yes, she had loved him, so much that she’d never given another man a chance to get close. But he’d never come right out and told her he loved her.
He encircled her arm above the wrist. Long, gentle fingers ran butterfly touches up and down.
“We talked of everything except how we felt about each other,” he rasped.
Light-headed, his voice reached her as though it was something tangible, and had pierced the protective covering over her heart. Her pulse pounded. He’d read her mind.
The muggy air held more moisture than oxygen, to Moselle’s way of thinking. What had happened to the night breeze?
“I need to tell you something.” Eric now played with her hand, fixated, as though it was a work of art. “You’re not the only one who was hurting that last night we were together, Moselle.”
She straightened and pulled her hand from his.
“After I left you, I drove around. I was too angry to go home. When I cruised through the park, someone was sitting in a swing.” Eric tipped his head as though listening to a sound in the distance. “The old swing was moving just enough that I heard the chain grating against the top. But it was the sobbing that broke my heart.”
A sick glob formed in the bottom of her stomach. “Beth,” Moselle guessed.
“Right the first time.” Eric scrubbed his eyes then ran his fingers across his forehead and down to his chin.
“You came to her rescue,” Moselle finished for him.
She didn’t want to care. But Beth’s dad’s cruelty had made her angry every time she witnessed his actions. “Her step-dad made her cry, I suppose. He was always doing that. I remember him as quite the drinker.”
“I don’t know if Beth would say I came to her rescue. I was a listening ear. She spilled it all out to me. I promised not to repeat a word.” He paused and reached for her hand, lacing their fingers. “That man was more than a
drunk. But if Beth wants you to know the whole sordid story, she’ll have to tell you.”
“So she told you a family secret that she couldn’t reveal to me?”
Why Eric? Moselle was supposed to have been Beth’s best friend.
“Something like that.” Eric paused to study their linked hands. “Your name came up. She wondered why I wasn’t with you. She thought you were decent, Moselle. In comparison, Beth felt she could never measure up to your standard of goodness.”
She waited for him to continue, not sure what to say.
He squeezed her hand, then after a while, released the pressure. “She never said it out loud, but I believe Beth felt dirty inside.”
Moselle shrugged. And she wondered why those youthful feelings came back in such a rush. “Who knows why messed-up teenagers think and do what they do? I just remember that it all seemed so important at the time.”
“I’ve said enough.” Eric placed the tips of two fingers under her chin and lifted her face so they had eye contact in the dim light from the window. He looked deep.
Moselle yanked herself away from the physical contact and stood. The frame of the glider hit her in the calf. She ignored the jolt of pain. “What kind of crazy talk is that?”
She marched from her seat and leaned against the porch post. Then she stretched further out and let the rain hit her full in the face. That was one way to hide her tears from Eric.
He came so close from behind her that Moselle felt his body heat. “What do a couple of kids know, anyway? I was mad at you. So I might not remember it clearly.”
Eric tried to pull her back under the protective roof overhang. Moselle stiffened in resistance.
“Distorted as it was, our common ground was our friendship with you,” Eric rumbled.
Moselle remained staunch, resisting his touch, until Eric relaxed his hold on her upper arms.
She heard Eric swallow, the sound clear and somehow loud against the softly falling rain.
“You fought me off, Moze. I felt rejected. Beth needed me.”
Moselle chewed on that for a moment. She let her muscles soften. “I don’t know why I should think of her now, but remember the woman in the Bible who used precious perfume on the feet of Jesus?”