Mountains of Grace

by Kelly Irvin

  “Aren’t you worried the house will be gone when they let us go back?”

  “It’s only logs, Sheetrock, and planks.” Leesa lifted her apron and patted her face. Despite the long day and the trip into Eureka, her clothes were clean and neat, as usual. “We’ll rebuild, and knowing Daed, the new house will be better than the old one. He has so much experience with building. He knows what he’s doing. Just think of it, brand new. Maybe the bedrooms will be bigger and the kitchen too.”

  Leesa had the ability to see the positive in everything. It was as if God had given her an extra-large helping of rose-colored happy, while He skimped on Mercy’s portion.

  “I liked the old house.”

  “Me too.” Leesa’s stride slowed. “I liked the chair where Daed sat to tell us stories at night by the fireplace in the winter.”

  “And make s’mores or popcorn over the fire.”

  “Jah. Gut memories. We’ll always have those. The fire can’t burn those up.” The older she grew, the more Leesa sounded like Mother. She looked like her too. God knew what He was doing. Somehow Mercy had received the short end of the stick. Tall. Skinny. Overly opinionated.

  “How come Mudder doesn’t give you a hard time about not being married?” Mercy kicked at a grizzled tennis ball someone had left on the sidewalk. It rolled into the weeds and disappeared. “You’re a year older than me.”

  “She used to.” Leesa wrinkled her perfect upturned button nose. No one ever believed they were sisters. Leesa had blonde hair and dimples. While good looks were unimportant in the Plain way of thinking, a person couldn’t help but notice. Mercy was a giant next to Leesa, who always knew what to say and do in every situation. “But now she knows—or suspects—that I’m about to change my status.”

  “Ian proposed?” Mercy squeezed her sister’s arm. “Did you talk to Tobias about it?”

  The deacon loved playing the role of informing parents of impending nuptials.

  “Ian didn’t actually say the words yet.” Leesa’s satisfied smile said she wasn’t worried about that wrinkle in her plan. “But he will. Any day now.”

  “How do you know?” Mercy had been blindsided when Caleb popped the question. They’d been courting for only eight months. They took buggy rides, hiked, fished, ate together, and talked endlessly, mostly about books they’d read. Caleb was a fountain of information about everything except his own family and his feelings.

  He never opened up to her the way she thought a beau—a future husband—would. Nor had he seemed in a hurry to explore the physical side of their relationship. No one ever explained how the pieces fit together—shared views of faith and family, the desire to spend the rest of her life with someone, and the physical romance.

  That last part was a complete mystery to Mercy. She had all these feelings—every time Caleb’s hand brushed against hers, they exploded in chills up her spine. His full lips mesmerized her. She lay in bed at night and imagined what it would feel like to be kissed by him.

  Her cheeks burned at the thought. “How can you be sure Ian is the right one?”

  “We fit together like macaroni and cheese.” Leesa giggled. “Or oatmeal and raisins. Or peanut butter and jelly, or—”

  “Okay, okay.” Mercy laughed with her. “I just have one more question. Are you the elbow macaroni or the cheese?”

  Entertaining themselves with silly food similes, they passed the First Interstate Bank and the church came into view at the end of the block. Despite the hour, cars, trucks, RVs, and buggies crowded the parking lot. A U.S. Forest Service van sat perpendicular to the curb, taking up five or six slots. A Lincoln County sheriff’s truck hugged the line next to it. Leesa and Mercy picked up their pace.

  The church was a narrow, L-shaped white building with a brown cross at the foot end of the L. A nearby sign spelled out the Ten Commandments in a font large enough for passersby to read if they weren’t driving too fast.

  Inside, a handmade sign pointed to a set of white double doors on the right, which led to a big room that didn’t fit with Mercy’s idea of English churches. No stained-glass windows, no statues of Jesus or Mary. It looked more like a meeting room with a laminate wood floor and a stage at one end. Some of the people were familiar, her neighbors from West Kootenai, some she’d seen in Libby. They congregated around maps on one wall, where a U.S. Forest Service ranger was pointing and talking.

  A pretty, plump lady wearing a purple shirt that read Team Jesus and a long white skirt stood behind a table next to a folding chair stationed by the doors. Purple-rimmed glasses stuck in curly hair dyed a startling magenta, she hummed a song as she shuffled a stack of papers and stuck crayons in a box. The song turned out to be “Jesus Loves the Little Children.”

  A blond-haired boy about two made siren sounds as he crawled around under the table pushing a large toy fire truck. Despite the noise, a baby clad in a pink onesie slept in a car seat.

  The woman glanced up when Mercy and Leesa reached the table. “Hello, hello, welcome to First Church of God. Mikey, hush, hush those sirens for now.” She stuck her head under the table and shook her finger at the little boy and then straightened. She held out her hand. Leesa and Mercy took turns shaking it. Her skin was soft but her shake firm.

  “Sorry about that. Mikey wants to be a firefighter when he grows up. He practices. A lot. I’m Angie Rockford, the church secretary, here to make you feel at home. Let’s get you signed in. The Red Cross folks are right there at the next table. They have motel vouchers and vouchers for food. Just fill out this form to get started. We also have food donations from our church members and a ton of donated clothes. Grab a grocery bag and pick out whatever you need. Of course, you probably won’t find much that suits your style. But we do have packages of new socks and underwear. We might have your size. We also have blankets and sheets and towels, if you need those.” Her cheeks pink, she paused for breath. The woman must have enormous lungs.

  Leesa jumped in. “We’re good for now. We were mostly interested in information. What have you heard about West Kootenai? Did the fire reach it? Has anyone come by here—?”

  “The Forest Service is coordinating containment of the fire,” a familiar deep, unusually raspy, voice boomed from behind them, “but the sheriff’s office made sure everyone was evacuated who wanted to evacuate.”

  Mercy turned to find Deputy Tim Trudeau approaching. His shirt was wet with sweat and dark circles under his eyes spoke of exhaustion. “Did you talk to my father?” Again Leesa spoke first. “Did you see them? Did they leave?”

  “They were still loading the trailer when I drove by.” Tim lifted his tan cowboy hat, stained with sweat and soot, and ran his hand through thinning brown hair with auburn highlights. “Your dad said he was almost done.”

  “You didn’t demand that he get moving?” Mercy hated the way she squeaked when she felt upset. She drew a breath. Calm. “What if they didn’t get out before the fire came?”

  “They did.” Caleb strode across the room in that long-legged gait that always made Mercy stop and look—even when she shouldn’t. He halted next to Tim. His gaze enveloped Mercy. As if she were the only one in the room. His smile was lopsided, but a smile. How hard it must be for him to pretend nothing had happened between them. “I also stopped, as did Sheriff Brody. Your daed and bruders were setting up sprinklers. We headed out at the same time. It takes longer when you’re pulling a trailer.”

  He’d come for her at the school. Then he’d gone to check on her family instead of rushing away from Kootenai and the fire. Despite everything that had happened, he still cared. He was a good man. A kind man, and she’d hurt him. The thought broke her heart. All the words she hadn’t said before threatened to spill out. Not now. Not now.

  She grasped for something that made sense right at this moment in front of Leesa and Tim. “Was the fire close?”

  “Close and getting closer. After Emmett stopped and told us to get out, we all saw it coming.” Caleb’s fingers gripped his suspenders. Hi
s knuckles turned white. “We all froze for a second.”

  “What did you see?” Mercy had viewed the fire at a distance. That was enough. She didn’t need to know more, but she couldn’t help herself. A person had to face the worst to get past it. “How bad was it?”

  “The fire was only a mile or two away and eating everything in its path.” Caleb crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Jonah ran past me to your bruders. He told them to go, go, go. They went. So did I.”

  “So you think our house is gone?” Mercy’s voice sounded strange in her ears. Like a little girl’s. Small. “The barn, the sheds?”

  Caleb shuffled his scuffed, dusty work boots. “I don’t know, but I do have something that will make Job happy.” He smiled, but it didn’t hide the misery on his face.

  Mercy summoned her own smile. “You found Nickle and Dime?”

  “Nee. I’m sure they raced away on their own, but I do have Lola. She’s out in the buggy, making a mess of my clothes.”

  “Job will be happy. Of course, she’s really Mudder’s cat, even though Mudder won’t admit she’s attached to her. Danki for bringing her.” Mercy tried not to stare at Caleb’s big calloused hands. He had broad shoulders and big biceps. The kind that would make a hug truly felt. The only time he ever touched her was to help her into the buggy. Never a hug. Never a kiss. How could he expect her to say yes?

  What were they talking about? Cats. Lola. “She’s a gut mouser. Daed and the boys will be at the house by the time we get there. We should go.”

  “When can we go home?” Leesa wiped at her face with the back of her sleeve. Mercy patted her back. Leesa sniffed.

  Her sister didn’t form the rest of the question, but it banged around in Mercy’s head. When could they go back to see if the house still stood? And the school? And the Borntragers’ store? And the Knowleses’ house? Caleb’s cabin? All their friends and family. Their community. Their entire lives.

  “When the danger is past.” Tim’s tone softened. “When it’s safe.”

  Not an answer.

  “If the wind shifts, the fire may circle around and make another pass.” This time the observation came from behind Tim and Caleb. “They’ll have to wait to see what the weather does.”

  Mercy tore her gaze from Caleb. The newcomer was a tanned, muscle-bound man who was tall, even hunched over metal crutches. He balanced on his right leg. His lower left leg and foot were encased in a medical boot that stretched from below his knee to just above his toes. His handsome face—even a Plain woman couldn’t miss his dimpled cheeks, nice teeth, dark curly hair, and blue eyes—was bruised. A bandage covered part of his forehead above his left eye. Splints covered three fingers on his left hand. Lines around his mouth suggested pain he was determined not to acknowledge.

  “Spencer McDonald, what are you doing here?” Tim didn’t sound particularly happy to see the man. The deputy was usually as friendly as a rambunctious toddler.

  “Passing the time.” Spencer swung toward them more gracefully than anybody on crutches should. “Checking on my sister, if that’s okay.”

  His gaze landed on Mercy. His eyes were the darkest sapphire blue she’d ever seen. He looked like he was in his mid to late twenties, but he had the solemn eyes of a much older man. A person could disappear into their cavernous depths, following trails that led to a place where he finally let go and allowed entry. He didn’t smile, but his full lips parted. His lower teeth were slightly crooked. “Hi.”

  Her hands fluttered to her own lips. She corralled them back to her sides. “Hi.” Nothing else occurred to Mercy. She closed her mouth.

  “What happened to you?” Tim looked wary. “Wreck your motorcycle?”

  “I got rid of that thing a long time ago.” Spencer smiled. “I’m a smoke jumper now. I got hurt jumping with the team sent in to fight the Caribou Fire.”

  “That’s a good job for you.” Tim’s mouth clamped shut for a few seconds. “I mean, you always were crazy.”

  “That’s not very nice.” The words were out before Mercy could swallow them. “Some people might think being a policeman and going after bad guys with guns is crazy in this day and age.”

  The newcomer smiled. His whole face changed. Time, years, disappointment, and uncertainty fell away. In a singular moment Mercy stood on the shores of Lake Koocanusa and watched the sun rise over the water. She swallowed and slipped her hand into the crook of Leesa’s arm, lest she fall flat on her face—Mercy, not Leesa.

  “It’s okay, Amish girl.” Spencer shrugged. “People who don’t know what they’re talking about might call smoke jumping crazy, but smoke jumpers are actually highly trained individuals. It requires tremendous physical fitness, presence of mind, and the ability to think independently and creatively.”

  The words he strung together echoed somewhere in her brain while she focused on Amish girl. He made them sound like a designation for someone special. Plain girls weren’t supposed to desire to be special. To stand out. Mercy tried to hide the smile his words prompted. Demut not hochmut. Humility not pride.

  “Why don’t I give you a ride home?” Caleb broke the sudden silence. “It’s getting late. Your daed is probably there by now.”

  A buggy ride with Caleb. No. No way. “You don’t have to do—”

  “That would be wunderbarr.” Leesa tugged at Mercy’s arm. “I’m starving. We missed supper.”

  “Wait.” Spencer swung forward a step on his crutches. “Tim apparently forgot the manners his mama taught him. He didn’t introduce you—”

  “Spence!” Angie Rockford sped across the room and launched her roly-poly body at him. “You came. You came. You came.”

  “Whoa, easy, Sissy, easy.” Spencer’s face turned red under the deep tan. His arms opened. One crutch toppled to the floor with a bang. He tumbled back a step but managed to stay upright in his sister’s embrace. “I told you I would.”

  “Mikey, Kylie, look, it’s Uncle Spencer. Wake up, baby Janie, your uncle is here.”

  “They don’t know who I am.” Despite his protest, Spencer grinned that same all-out grin that lit up his face and the room. He allowed Angie to tug him away from their group. “How many kids do you have now? Forty?”

  Angie howled with laughter. She had one of those laughs that made everyone within hearing distance want to laugh too. It started as a soft tinkle, then grew and grew until it became a snort-slash-deep-belly-chuckle.

  Mercy chuckled. Leesa joined in. Neither Caleb nor Tim seemed amused.

  “I wonder what he’s doing here.” His gaze on Spencer’s retreating figure, Tim grimaced. “Whatever it is, it can’t be good.”

  “What did he do that has you so riled up?” Mercy had no business asking about an English man. A long day, an uncertain world, and a ridiculous smile combined to make her reckless. “You don’t seem to like him very much.”

  “Spencer used to live around here. He was one of those bad boys all the girls drooled over. I guess I still resent the fact that they couldn’t see how much better off they’d be with the good guys.” Tim looked at his watch. “I have to get back to Libby. Have you seen the Knowleses since you got to Eureka?”

  “That seems harsh.”

  “Trouble follows him around and slops over on other people.”

  Leesa glared at Mercy. Caleb looked none too happy either. “The Knowleses left ahead of us. They would’ve arrived in Eureka long before we did.”

  Mercy peeked over her sister’s shoulder. Angie hugged her brother’s neck. The woman had tears running down her face. Not everyone thought Spencer’s return was a bad thing.

  Besides, boys grew into men. They changed. Didn’t they?

  “Come get Lola and I’ll give you two and her a ride to your house.” Caleb stepped into the space beyond Leesa, blocking Mercy’s view of the happy reunion. “It’s dark out there.”

  “Lola is never glad to see anyone.” Nevertheless Mercy allowed Caleb to lead them from the room. She grasped at her scattered thoughts. They
were like leaves somersaulting on the autumn wind. A safe topic presented itself. “How are things where you’re staying? It must be crowded with Arthur’s family and everyone.”

  “Arthur’s brother has an RV parked behind his house.” Caleb held the door for them and they strode from the church. If he wondered why she cared about where he stayed or what he did, he was kind enough not to throw it in her face. “We’re borrowing it.”

  “That’s gut. You should be comfortable there.”

  If they’d married, the two of them would be staying in that RV now. Instead he had no family here and had to ride out the fire with Ian.

  His expression told her nothing. He didn’t share his feelings when they were courting. Why would he do it now?

  Caleb’s buggy was parked on the other side of Tim’s truck. Snowy looked happier than she had earlier in the day. Morning and arithmetic lessons seemed years ago. Mercy petted the horse’s graceful neck. She rested her forehead on the silky mane and breathed in a scent as familiar as her mother’s or coffee or spring breezes.

  “She’s back here.”

  Mercy inhaled one last healing scent and trailed after Leesa to the back of the buggy. Caleb pulled a box toward the edge and unfolded the flaps. Lola screeched and leaped into Mercy’s arms. Her pitiful meows said, “Where have you been?” and “How could you leave me?”

  Mercy staggered back, but she hung on to the writhing cat’s bony body. “You’re fine, kitzn. You’re fine.”

  Lola climbed up Mercy’s chest and buried her wet nose in her neck. Her heart pumped in a rapid beat against Mercy’s collarbone. “You sweet thing, Job will be glad to see you too.”

  “She really likes you.” Caleb’s words had sharp edges. His features were etched in stone.

  “She recognizes me, that’s all.” Mercy stroked Lola’s silky fur, more to calm her own emotions than the animal’s. Why didn’t men say what they meant? How was she supposed to know what Caleb’s feelings were before that momentous question that caught her totally off guard? “Cats choose their owners, not the other way around.”