Beyond the Fire

by Dewayne A Jackson

  Captain Armonson smiled. “No trouble, ma’am. I’ll send Walley by every morning to check on you.”

  With that, both Walley and Captain Armonson left the house, and Mary was alone.

  Just two days later, Mary was scraping the last of the flour from her crock and sifting it into a mixing bowl. Walley would be here soon, and she didn’t want to be late.

  Mary had grown quite fond of Walley. Each morning he arrived with a large pail of water and something else besides. Sometimes it was an armload of potatoes from a neighbor’s garden, or maybe a load of wood from a deserted back porch. Though he was looting her neighbors’ deserted gardens, Mary didn’t know how she would have survived without him. His visits broke the lonely ritual she observed each day.

  She poured thin batter on a hot griddle. “Pancakes for us both,” she mused. As she waited to flip the first cakes, she searched her larder for the last pat of butter. “We’ll have a party today, for I don’t know what we’ll eat tomorrow—unless Walley steals more potatoes.” Inwardly she hoped the lad would find something. She had come to depend on him so much.

  Suddenly she heard someone calling, “Mrs. Cotton!” The voice was coming from her front door, so Mary hurried through the house.

  Opening the door, she discovered Walley, laden with not only a large pail of water but many fine potatoes as well.

  “Walley!” she exclaimed. “Where did you find such nice potatoes?”

  “They are from the garrison larder, ma’am,” he said.

  “Walley!” she gasped. “How could you?”

  “Captain Armonson sent them,” Walley explained. “Rations are low everywhere, and he thought you might need them.”

  Mary relaxed. “Thank heavens,” she sighed. “You must thank him for me.”

  Walley grinned, and then he produced something else. “I found this too,” he said, pulling a large black book from under his shirt.

  “A book?” Mary asked. “Where did you find this?”

  Walley squirmed a bit uncomfortably. “In the church.”

  “Walley!” Mary exclaimed. “You wouldn’t steal from a church, would you?”

  “I didn’t steal it,” Walley countered. “I only borrowed it so you could read to me. I’ll take it back, I promise.”

  Mary felt a deep revulsion. She wanted nothing to do with God. God had allowed her husband to leave with the army. He had let her mother die, and He’d taken their precious baby away from her. She certainly didn’t want to read about God, but the prospect of another lonely day loomed large before her.

  “All right,” she said reluctantly. “Only, let’s celebrate with hotcakes just now. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?”

  After cleaning the breakfast dishes, and since it promised to be a lovely day, Mary and Walley settled on the front steps of the shop to read. Mary marveled at the lad beside her. Though it was obvious that he couldn’t read, Walley understood every word. Frequently he would ask her to reread certain passages, for he didn’t want to miss a single thought.

  I just wish Walley could read this for himself, Mary thought.

  As the days slid by, Mary began to discover that reading to Walley not only filled many lonely hours but it brought healing to her own heart as well.

  Armed with Walley’s careful mental notes, Mary began to enjoy the Bible’s unfolding drama. She discovered the patriarchs and Psalmist felt many of the same fears and frustrations she did. But while they found their strength in God, she began to realize that she didn’t even know Him.

  But Mary was content. Walley provided everything she needed. Each morning he arrived with food, water, and other supplies. She had no idea where things came from, and she soon stopped asking. Walley’s companionship gave her ample reason to get up and face each new day.

  One day, Mary paused while reading. Tears filled her eyes, but she didn’t want to cry because she knew Walley would ask questions.

  The Bible lay open on her lap, but her heart was in turmoil. She had just finished reading of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. She could not imagine people being so cruel. Why would anyone kill a man so blameless and good? she wondered.

  Walley’s voice shattered her thoughts. “You must understand this better than anyone.”

  Bewildered, Mary shook her head. “Why would you say that, Walley?”

  “God’s only Son died, just like yours,” Walley said seriously.

  The truth of Walley’s words struck home. God had lost His only Son, and so had she. There were differences, of course. Jesus had been brutally murdered by the very people he had come to save. Her son, on the other hand, had died of a fever. If only she had known what to do or where to take her baby, he might still be with her. Mary felt so guilty. I loved William so much, she thought. When I lost him, I thought it was God’s fault.

  Tears rolled down Mary’s cheeks. Would I have killed Jesus? She hated to admit it, but she had been so angry at God when baby William had died that she probably would have driven the nails in Jesus’s hands if she could have.

  “You know,” Walley said quietly, “Jesus is kind of like my dad.”

  “How?” Mary asked meekly. This child was teaching her, whether he knew it or not.

  “Dad loved Amity so much that he was willing to lay down his life for her,” he said.

  “Walley,” Mary said, puzzled, “I don’t see how that fits in with this story.”

  “Jesus loved you and me so much that He was willing to die for us!” Walley stated.

  Mary was troubled. She felt silly asking a child questions, but she needed to know. “Walley,” she said, “I know the Bible says that Jesus died to take man’s sin away, but if He did remove sin, why is evil still in the world, and why do we have to suffer?”

  Walley looked at her with keen, clear eyes. “Miss Mary,” he began, “the crucible is for silver and the furnace for gold, but trials come to test our hearts.”

  Mary frowned, and Walley continued, “We know ore is thrown into a furnace to melt the gold trapped within. Once melted, the gold runs into a pan and is given to the goldsmith to make beautiful things, like a crown or a setting for a jewel. The stone from which the gold came is worth nothing and is discarded.

  “Trials come into our lives to prove what kind of people we are. Just as a lump of ore is thrown into the fire, so a sinful world hurls difficulties and hardship our way. Those trials will bring out the good that is inside while exposing the bad for what it is and eventually throwing it away. Trials reveal that some people have really good hearts, while others are cold as stone.”

  “But how does one know whether a heart is good or bad?” Mary asked.

  “God always knows the good from the bad,” Walley said, “but there are things that are obvious to everyone. A good heart is kind, generous, and open to sharing God’s love. And as a special blessing, the Lord grants His peace to all who trust in Him.”

  “And they won’t have any more problems?” Mary asked.

  “I didn’t say that!” Walley countered. “And neither did Jesus. Remember, He said, ‘In this world you will have tribulation, but be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world.’”

  Mary could remember reading those words, but she hadn’t understood them then, nor did she now.

  Walley went on. “Jesus wants everyone to experience a place of peace, a refuge, like Stonewall—a safe place to go, regardless of what is happening in your life.”

  “Where is this refuge, Walley?” Mary asked. Her heart longed for such a place, but she had no knowledge of such a retreat nearby.

  “Peace is found in the person of Jesus Christ, Miss Mary.” Walley’s voice was confident.

  Mary wanted to believe, but how could she? “Walley, how can Jesus give me this peace? Didn’t He die for our sins?”

  “He died, yes, but He was raised to life on the third day, and now He sit
s at the right hand of God the Father,” Walley said. “He wants you to abide in Him that He might live through you. That is where you find true peace: not in the absence of trouble but in the presence of the Lord!”

  Mary felt desperate. “Walley, I don’t know Him. I don’t know how to reach Him.”

  “Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved,” Walley quoted. “Miss Mary,” he said, searching her eyes, “do you believe Jesus is the Son of God?”

  “I have no reason not to,” Mary said. “It says so in this book.” Her fingers reverently touched the book in her lap.

  “Do you believe you are a sinner in need of a savior?” Walley asked.

  “Walley!” Mary blushed, color rising in her cheeks. She could not look him in the eyes. “I …” She paused. “I guess I’m not perfect.”

  Walley smiled, but his eyes fell. “Miss Mary, do you realize you can’t reach the Father or that blessed place of peace without help from a stronger guiding hand?”

  Pride suddenly welled up in Mary’s soul. How dare this young boy tell her what she could and could not do! Though she did not speak, her face stiffened with determination, and when her eyes met his, they were cold and hard.

  Walley’s enthusiasm faded. “Miss Mary,” he whispered, “we choose where we live.”

  “What do you mean?” Mary’s voice was brittle, and it sounded harsh within the confines of the room. She was sorry. She didn’t mean to be angry.

  “Every day we choose whether we will live inside or outside the Lord’s peace and protection. I chose to stay in Capri rather than follow Aunt Hilda to Waterfront,” Walley said.

  Mary remained silent, but her mind was busy. Life hadn’t given her a choice. Or had it? She thought of all the people who had offered to take her east. She had stubbornly refused every offer. At the time, she had thought she knew what was best, but now she was alone. She had no husband, no mother, and no baby. Her dreams had vanished. All she had was a skinny kid who was rapidly turning into a preacher!

  Mary’s voice broke the silence. “Walley, I’m stuck here. There is no other place I can go.”

  “Do you mean here in Capri?” Walley asked, his head tipped to one side.

  Mary nodded.

  “We’re not stuck!” Walley grinned. “The road is still open. We can flee to Stonewall tonight. I’ll go with you.”

  Mary felt her heart skip a beat. Who was this child, anyway? “But Walley,” she protested, “what will I do with my things?”

  “Leave them!” he said. “Pack a few clothes, and let’s go!”

  A daring urge swept over Mary. Should she try it? “Maybe,” she said aloud, but even as she spoke, common sense began to wash over her. “Walley, I can’t just leave all my things. Besides, I don’t know anyone at Stonewall.”

  “I’ll bet there are a lot of people you know who are already there,” Walley stated.

  The gentle Ella Walton came to Mary’s mind. How she longed to see Ella again.

  Walley sensed her indecision. “The longer we wait, the harder the journey may become. Master Devia may close the road before long. His influence grows stronger within the barracks and what is left of the city.”

  Mary shivered. “But Master Devia is from Amity! He would not bring trouble upon his own people as Jabin would have done.”

  “I don’t know,” Walley said uncomfortably. “The things I hear don’t sound too good. I really don’t want to find myself in his camp.”

  “Walley,” Mary said. “You don’t sound like yourself!” She had heard reports of men on the march, bringing peace to Amity. If the last report she had heard was true, they were near Capri. Besides, Captain Armonson knew of their approach. He had hoped they would bring more food to what was left of Capri.

  Mary began to dream. If there was a large army coming, wasn’t it likely that Bill would be among them? That thought filled her with the deepest longing. “No, Walley,” she said firmly. “I cannot leave Capri tonight.”

  Though his face fell, Walley put on a brave smile as he rose to leave. “Very well,” he said, “but you must remember that no matter what happens, you can choose to live in the peace and presence of the Lord. The key is faith. Reach out to Him in faith, and the Lord will grant you His peace and rest.”

  Mary could sense Walley’s disappointment, and she hated that she had caused it. She rose and followed the boy to the front door. “Thank you, Walley.” She felt as if something very important was slipping away from her. “Walley?” she called after him. “Will you be by in the morning?”

  “I will if I can,” he answered.

  Mary was troubled by Walley’s parting words. After locking the door, she turned weary steps toward the stairs and climbed to her bedroom, knowing she would long consider the words spoken this day.

  CHAPTER 46

  Dark Days in Capri

  Mary awoke to a gloomy world. She wondered if it was early. Glancing out the window, she fussed, “Clouds!” She hated dreary days; they seemed so much longer.

  The water in her basin was cold, and it brought her sharply to her senses. She glanced at the clock on her wall. It was late. Walley should have been there already. Quickly she slipped into her dress. I wonder if he knocked at my door trying to wake me, she thought.

  She stepped to her bedroom door and inspected the heavy wooden panels. Walley had helped her move this door from her father’s workroom downstairs to replace the door that had been shattered the night intruders had entered the store and her life had been changed. She shuddered at the memory.

  Touching this door’s latch, she could smell the faint odor of lacquer and paint. Fond memories of her father passed through her mind.

  Quietly she stepped from the room and glided down the stairs—and then froze. Someone was standing by her back door. No one had ever been there before. Is it Walley? she wondered. Taking several deep breaths, she walked very quietly across the kitchen to the back door.

  She quickly slid the bolt and lifted the latch. The door swung open, and a man nearly fell at her feet. She recognized him instantly. “Ed Turner!” she gasped. “What on earth are you doing lurking at my door?”

  The man regained his balance and turned to face Mary. She understood the look of shock on his face when he was off balance, but anger clouded his features when he heard her use the word lurking.

  “I ain’t lurking, Ms. Cotton,” the man said. “I’ve got orders!”

  “Who gave you orders to stand at my back door?” she demanded.

  “Captain!” Turner leered at her, showing off his missing teeth.

  Mary felt shock and surprise. “Captain Armonson?” she asked. “But why? And where is Walley?”

  Ed Turner puffed out his chest. “Captain Armonson is no longer in command at Capri. Captain DeKlerk arrived last night, and there have been some changes. I’ve been promoted to sergeant!” Turner’s excessive pride threatened the buttons on his new red coat.

  Mary suddenly shivered. “Where is Captain Armonson?” she persisted. “And why didn’t Walley come this morning?”

  “We put the runt to work in the kitchen. There are lots more men to feed, and there’s a lot more food to cook.” Ed Turner rubbed his ample belly and belched.

  Mary felt utter revulsion, but she asked once again, “What about Captain Armonson?”

  “He needed a little … training.” Turner grinned. “He was sent west for a little reeducation.”

  Mary recalled Walley’s words last night. It was becoming painfully obvious that he’d known more than he’d let on.

  “Well,” she said with determination, “if Walley can’t bring my water, I’ll have to go myself.” She stooped to pick up the bucket that sat by the back door.

  “Sorry, ma’am.” Turner’s missing teeth mocked her. “You are not to leave this house.”

  “Why?” Mary asked, her anger beginn
ing to replace her fear. “I’ll get water if I want to.” She started to brush past Ed Turner, but he grabbed her arm and shoved her roughly back into the house.

  “You’re not going anywhere, missy,” he barked. “I’ve got my orders!”

  Mary was flustered and angry now. “Who gave these ridiculous orders?” she snapped. “I’d like to give them a piece of my mind.”

  “Captain Jan DeKlerk is his name, and you’ll get to see him, but you won’t have to leave the house to do it.” Ed Turner’s smile was none too pleasant.

  Mary shrank back, a horrible thought crossing her mind. “Why?” she asked softly.

  “He’ll be along sometime today,” Turner sneered.

  “How does he know where I live?” she asked.

  “We’ve been watching that kid come over here. Say, what do you do with a kid all day?” Turner asked, slowly inching his way through the door. “Now, I could understand you and me spending all day together.”

  With one swift movement, Mary shoved Turner outside and slammed the door. She slid the bolt and raced to the front door. Another man wearing a red coat blocked her escape there. Tears of frustration filled her eyes. Creeping back through the house and up to her bedroom, Mary fell upon her bed and sobbed herself to sleep.

  Mary awoke with a start. Someone was pounding at her door. She listened, and suddenly a voice shouted angrily, “Open up, or we’ll break the door down!” Mary recognized the voice of Ed Turner.

  A second voice interrupted Turner. “This is Captain DeKlerk of occupational forces! May I come in?”

  Mary crept down the stairs. If it was the new commander, maybe she could impress on him her need of food and water.

  Mary inched toward the door. “I’ll not open for the likes of you, Ed Turner!”

  The second voice grew hard. “Did you harm her, Turner?”

  “Didn’t do a thing, Captain,” Turner said. “I just followed your orders.”

  “She sounds frightened,” DeKlerk said. “You are dismissed, Turner! Don’t come around here again!”