by D. M. Webb
How could they love him? How could they stand him?
“Because you are our son.”
Did he ask out loud? He didn’t know. He knew only that his mother’s voice was a sweet balm upon his heart. She pulled him into a tight embrace, his head resting on her bosom like a child being rocked to sleep. His father’s hands rested upon his head.
He heard soft prayers being whispered, and a gentle hush fell over him. His craving abated, but his shame still covered him.
: : : : :
His gut clenched. David ran a finger under the waistband of his jeans, relieving some of the pressure against his abdomen. It had to be nervousness.
He had to relax. Maggie was at the shop. This was his day off. It was only a meeting with Bro. Johnny. Nothing catastrophic.
Tufts of lavender plants dotted the sidewalk. He navigated the gray, concrete slabs. His stomach flipped against his backbone again. He couldn’t do this.
The sun mocked him with its bright and cheerful presence. A cool breeze blew, alleviating some of the heat on his face. Sweat traveled down his back. His t-shirt clung to him. Tomorrow would be better. He whirled around as the front door opened.
“David, good morning.”
David’s shoulders sagged. He took a deep breath before turning to face the preacher. “Morning, Bro. Johnny.”
“Walk with me.”
The man descended the steps. Apparently, he expected David to obey. David rolled his shoulders forward. The muscles creaked and joints popped as he followed Bro. Johnny across the thick grass toward the church. He fell into step with the preacher.
“I’m glad you decided to come today.”
David stuffed his hands into his pockets. He pursed his lips. “Dad call you?”
“Yes.” Bro. Johnny veered from the path leading to the church and headed toward the fence that surrounded the cemetery. “But don’t fault your father. He’s very worried about you.”
“I know.” They reached the black wrought iron. David leaned his forearms against the top railing and clasped his shaky hands. “He call this morning or last night?”
“This morning, right before you got here. You had a bad night?”
Bro. Johnny mimicked David’s stance. He looked over at David and then gazed across the landscape peppered with headstones and statues.
“Very bad.” David hung his head and stared at his shoes, scuffed and worn. “I really don’t know how to handle this.”
“You are taking the right steps now.” Bro. Johnny met his gaze. “Talk to me.”
David sighed. Every fiber within him revolted at the idea of revealing his latest sin. He steeled himself. His hands clamped onto the rail for support. “I can’t seem to handle thunderstorms very well. Last night, thunder woke me, and for a split second I was back there. At the car wreck. I . . . thought it was Rebecca’s car.” He cleared his throat. He couldn’t believe he was going to ask this. “Tell me, how can I miss Rebecca and still love her without feeling guilty? Feels like I’m cheating on Maggie. I can’t straighten out these feelings.”
“David, listen to me on this. Maggie knows that Rebecca was the love of your life. She knows that you still have that love for her. Even though you love Maggie with the same amount of love you have for Rebecca, she knows that Rebecca will always be a part of you.” Bro. Johnny hooked an elbow over the fence. “God made us capable of loving many people at once. When the Holy Spirit resides in us, we will have big hearts. Hearts able to hold all that in.”
David leaned his back against the fence and crossed his ankles. “At times, I feel like I am doing an injustice to Maggie for harboring feelings towards Rebecca. Sometimes I feel like I am disrespecting Rebecca’s memory for loving Maggie.”
“Rebecca is dead. In all sense of the matter, she was your wife, even though you were not officially married. You treated her with respect and love; she honored you. There is a reason the vows say ‘til death do us part.’ We become free to love again.” He nudged David toward the wrought iron table that sat near one of the oak trees. “Have a seat and tell me about your night.”
David eased into the hard, iron chair. He leaned his head back as he crossed an ankle over his knee. “I needed a drink.”
“Or so you thought.”
“Or so I thought.” How humbling to have to tell someone about his fall. His horrible night, his horrible soul naked in the sun. “I had hidden some bottles in the house. I needed them. Practically destroyed Mom’s kitchen until I discovered the liquor wasn’t there.” He sighed and met Bro. Johnny’s eyes. “I needed that drink to wash everything away. The horrible memories, the guilt . . . the pain. It hurts all the time.”
Bro. Johnny reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small, brown Bible. The edges curled from apparent use and a corner frayed. “I received this little New Testament from a friend thirty years ago. It was the turning point in my life. At a time when things threatened to crash down upon me.” He placed the Bible on the table and pushed it across to David. “Open to Proverbs twenty and start reading.”
David lifted the Bible. So small in his hands. His fingers trembled as he turned to the Book of Proverbs. “Wine is a mocker, strong drink is a brawler, and whosoever is led astray by it is not wise.” His voice broke.
He threw the Bible down on the table and jumped up. Such a small book, but it packed a wallop against his chest. David stumbled away. Tears hindered his vision.
How could words printed thousands of years ago talk about him? How? He held a fist over his heart. It hurt him as it pounded against his sternum.
His hand lashed out and splayed against the nearest tree. He looked around. Back in the pastoral yard. At his feet the gnomes grinned at him. He turned away from their knowing eyes and sank to the ground. Acorns dug into his bottom as he pulled his knees up and lowered his head.
Bro. Johnny’s loafers, shiny and pristine, stopped in his field of vision. David refused to look up.
“David, God’s words will speak to us all. We just need to listen.”
“How could those sentences describe me so well? It’s not possible.”
“With God all things are possible.” Bro. Johnny lowered himself beside David and leaned against the tree. “You are not the only man to succumb to the lure of alcohol. And every one of them was like you. You drink. You fight. You are fast to anger. This is not what God wants of his children.”
David raised his head. Pressure pounded against his skull. “I tried. I really did, but I never told anyone the whole story. Never even told God.”
“But He knew already.”
“I know.” He closed his eyes against the pain, the hurt. The memory flooded his mind. The fire consumed his life, everything he desired and loved. “I’m afraid to speak the secret. No one knows.”
“And this drew you to drinking.” Bro. Johnny passed the Bible to David. “Tell me, did you read your Proverbs today?”
David snorted. “No. I also failed in that.”
“David, everyone fails and falls. Stop your self-loathing and self-pity, and read. Right now.”
David flinched at the sharpness of his tone but opened to his required reading. “Dishonest scales are an abomination to the Lord, but a just weight is His delight. When pride comes, then comes shame; but with the humble is wisdom. . . .”
He ignored the sun beating against his back and on his head. Sweat mingled with tears, but he kept reading. It had been a long time since he heard God’s voice. He had almost forgotten how it sounded.
Chapter 17
DAVID PUSHED AGAINST THE charred door. It fell to the side, sending showers of sparks flying as it hit the floor. Somewhere beyond the flames, he could hear the constant beep of the PASS device.
“Toby, over here.”
Together, they shoved past the furniture slowly being consumed by the licking flames. David, with his hand on Toby’s shoulder, followed further into the smoky room. The beeps sounded louder.
“Here!”
Jason’s voice, laced with pain, came from the right corner of the room. They pushed an easy chair out of the way. Jason, on his side, pulled off his mask and gripped his left knee. Lying beside him was part of a ceiling rafter.
“Stupid board fell on me. Twisted my knee.” He grimaced as he tried to move.
“Take him, Toby.” David pulled Jason to his feet.
Toby’s arm snaked around Jason’s chest, and they hobbled out through the burning room.
“Command, found him. Need EMS standing by.”
“Roger that. Be advised . . .”
David’s radio crackled. “Command, say again. I did not read.” He smacked his radio. At the same time a beam from the far side of the room crashed into the window. Fed with fresh oxygen, the fire leapt to life.
“David! Look out!”
Toby’s voice was lost in the uproar of flames. David fell to his knees and shielded his face against the sudden onslaught of heat. The flames rolled over him and toward the window.
“Go. Get him out!” David got to his feet and hunched over, avoiding the fire eating away at the ceiling. “I’m right behind you!”
Toby led the limping Jason through the smoke and toward the door where helping hands would be waiting.
Fire consumed the house. The flames ate their way toward David as he made his way through the hallway. He felt that he had always walked through hell, and it never had scared him, but this fire was different.
It licked and caressed the walls and ceiling, determined to consume it all. Just steps away loomed the door. Toby and Jason’s backs had disappeared through the smoke. It swirled, but before David took a step, a sudden roar filled the hallway.
A blast of extreme heat hit him full force in his chest. He flew back, landing hard on his side. He struggled to his feet, only to have one collapse beneath him, and the other to fall through the floorboards.
The uproar of the fire drowned his scream. Above him, boards and chunks of sheetrock slammed down. Boxes fell from the attic. White and black smoke wafted around him.
He clawed at the floorboards and managed to pull his leg out of the hole. The fire rushed and danced above. Even through his gloves, the heat from the downed board seared through. He dragged himself away from the hole and reached for his radio. Pieces dangled from its clip.
Oh, great. David tried to regain his footing. Pain shot through his leg. He bit back his curse as he fell to his side.
Around him, hell grew and turned its eyes on him. For the first time, fear touched him.
He twisted and pulled his tank off his back to read the gauge. Not much left. This was his third time in, and his tank was running dry.
Not that it would do much good, anyway. A crack ran the length of his mask. The smells of burning wood, carpet, and other materials entered his nostrils.
A rafter above crashed into the floor and fell through. Definitely needed to get out. The hallway was not safe. He used his one good leg and scooted down the hallway. He paused outside a bedroom door. His broken mask clattered to the floor as he flipped it off his head.
With his teeth, he pulled off a glove and felt the door. No heat. He struggled with the glove. It refused to slide back on his hand. He used it and gripped the door knob. The door swung inside. Thick smoke billowed down the hallway, drawn to the fresh air. He coughed and dragged himself inside the untouched master bedroom.
Sanctuary, for the moment. He shoved the door closed and looked around the room through watery eyes. If he could get to the window, he could get out of this devil’s den. He reached around him.
Where was his mask? David looked around on the floor. Great. He had left it in the hall. He hesitated. Maybe he could make it back through the doorway to get it.
A sudden crack dominated the unearthly silence of the room.
A part of the ceiling fell down. He ducked flying debris. Heat flooded the room as the fire from the attic fell through. Hell’s flames blocked his way to safety.
But it no longer mattered.
The fire was unimportant as it smiled, slowly creeping its way to him. In the deafening laughter of the fire, a steady rhythmic beeping marched along with his heartbeat. That was a new one–the fire beating out a high-pitched tempo.
Strength melted from his body. He lay among the debris and watched the flames creep closer to claim him. Pain streaked through his leg. His mind focused on the dancing flames. Smoke lulled him to sleep. His eyes blinked lower and lower.
“Too many regrets.” His voice rasped in his throat as he spoke to the fire. He tried to draw in a deep breath. His chest shuddered from the painful, hacking cough. “Should have told the truth.”
Maggie. Her name entered his mind. His floating pink angel. The flames grew taller. “I should have told her.”
He tried to raise a hand of defiance to the flames, but his arm refused to budge. Did someone spill glue? Why was he stuck to the floor? Through the haze, heat battered him, and calmness and peace settled around his heart.
It wasn’t a bad way to die. He would be unconscious before he felt the flames burn him. Too bad he didn’t get a chance to have a last meal. A good slice of steak, medium rare, loaded baked potato. Scratch that. Make it an apple pie and maybe a chocolate shake. Yeah, something sweet. Like Maggie.
A white light hit him in the face. Huh, so that part of death was true.
“We found him!”
Well, that declaration didn’t fit with the program.
Rough hands rolled him over. The pain in his ankle shot through his leg. Off the floor he rose. Was he floating?
No. There were feet under his head. And a hand with no glove. Wait, that was his hand. Someone carried him. So, he wasn’t dead yet.
Smoke and flames swirled. Voices shouted. Then bright light. He hit the ground hard.
“Get those turnouts off!”
Hands pulled at his clothes. He fought against them.
His jacket pulled at him and then disappeared, and his pants and boots slid off him. White light hit his eyes again.
“Pupils are dilated. Crank the oxygen. Full.”
What? A mask slipped over his face, and some of the haze receded, but his body still refused to properly obey him. Jeremy’s face blurred in front of him.
“Hey, little brother. You’ll be okay.” Jeremy’s face came closer.
David reached out to his brother. “I’m naked, and no one bought me dinner first.”
Jeremy laughed, and his hand rested lightly on David’s face. “No. You’re not. We just had to remove the turnouts.”
David patted at his brother’s tactical vest. A cough racked his chest.
“You know,” Jeremy shook his head, “you are one lucky man.”
David smiled and tried to push the mask aside. “No. I’m–”
“Don’t try to talk. Let the oxygen work.” Jeremy disappeared from his vision.
He stared at the sky above. The haziness receded a little. Apparently, he wasn’t going to die today. Wasn’t that good? Another cough ripped through his dry throat. Oh, man, he needed a drink. He smiled through one more cough as paramedics loaded him into the ambulance.
He craved water. That was a first.
: : : : :
“So, weren’t you scared?” Maggie dipped her hand into the water, letting the current flow through her fingers. “I mean, you were trapped. Sounds almost like something out of a movie.”
David settled the oars on the bottom of the rowboat as they lazily drifted across the small pond behind his parents’ house. He shrugged. “Yes and no.”
“That isn’t an answer.” She scooted to the seat in front of him and sat with her back to him. He bent down and wrapped his arms around her, holding her as his chin rested on top of her head. His heart thudded against her back. She stroked his clasped hands and relaxed against him. “Either you were or you weren’t.”
His breath stirred her hair as he spoke. “At first I was. Thought I was going to die. That’s the second time I
felt that. Once at the river, and now the fire. All I could think was that I never did tell the whole truth. Then, I felt peace inside me.”
Maggie tried to turn around to face him, but his arms clamped tighter, holding her still. He stretched out his leg with the ankle brace. His lips tickled her ear. “Don’t turn around. I’ll never be able to tell you if you look at me.”
Fear settled into her heart. What could be so bad that he had to hide from her as he spoke? He laid his cheek against hers. Hot skin against her cool skin. She nodded. “Okay. Go ahead, then. What do you mean, the whole truth?”
“Before I do, can you tell me something?”
She nodded again. A cloud moved in front of the sun. Gray light settled over the pond. The birds quieted. “Yes.”
“Did you mean it when you told your father to tell me that you would always be here for me?”
“Oh, David.” She pulled his arms tighter around her as she pressed her head against his. She could do this. “Always.”
A deep sigh shuddered inside his chest and rattled against her back.
“I’ve kept a secret for three years now. And your father said I will have to release it to be released from the alcohol.” He cleared his throat. “Two weeks before the wedding, Rebecca found out . . .” His fingers drummed against her hands.
Long moments passed. Maggie waited. Found out what? She swallowed. She could guess the answer to that.
His breathing grew heavy, and a wet drop hit her shoulder. She reached behind her and found his cheek. Tears slicked it. She caressed him. “Go ahead, sweetie. You’ll feel better. Just say it. In a rush. It’s the best way.”
He nodded. His voice rasped in her ear. “She found out she was six weeks pregnant . . .” His chest shook, but he continued. “We decided not to tell anyone, least of all her parents. Pass it off as a honeymoon baby. No one would know.”
Knowing what it might have been was one thing, but actually hearing it was another. Maggie’s heart broke. Tears fell from her eyes. He didn’t fight her as she gently turned around on the bench to face him.
“My child died, Maggie! Rebecca and my child.” He hid his face behind his hands. His body shuddered.