Mountains of Grace

by Kelly Irvin

  Their clothes, their shoes, their coats, their blankets, their beds.

  Their everything.

  The family photos taken every year at Christmas. Baby photos. Her paintings that Mom had proclaimed so good they had to be framed. Mom and Dad’s wedding photos. Grandma’s baby photos.

  Mementos that couldn’t be replaced.

  “Nothing you did or didn’t do caused this to happen.” Tim’s big hand enveloped hers. She held on and breathed through tears not allowed to fall. “I promise you that.”

  “I should go home. Mom will need me.”

  “Right.” He squeezed her hand, let go, and rose. “I’ll walk you to your truck.”

  “Wait.” She couldn’t put this off. Not and sleep tonight. “We need to talk.”

  Hat in hand, he wavered. “Can we talk and walk?”

  “Not for this. I want to see your face.”

  “That is serious.” He sat. “I imagine I’ll want to see yours as well.”

  Juliette waved the waitress over. “Could we get two diet Pepsis in to-go cups?”

  “No burgers today?”

  “No time.”

  “I’ll get those drinks right away.”

  “Stop procrastinating.” Tim squeezed her hand. “There’s nothing you can say that will make me care for you less.”

  Care, not love.

  “I got a job offer.”

  “That’s great.” Despite the words, his expression turned wary. As if he knew what was coming. And he did. How many jobs were there in Podunk Eureka or Libby, for that matter? “Doing what? Where? Here in Eureka?”

  “Not in Eureka.”

  “Kalispell? That’s still close enough. Even Polson would work.”

  Juliette shuffled the ketchup and mustard bottles so they flanked the salt and pepper shakers. She cleared her throat and met his gaze. “In Billings. It’s a great offer for someone with no experience. It’s an assistant account executive at a marketing firm. The pay is good, enough to live on at least. It’s a foot in the door.”

  “In Billings.” His lips barely moved. His face had turned to concrete. His blue eyes were as cold as the water of Lake Koocanusa in winter. “Congratulations. When do you go?”

  “Don’t be like that.” She grabbed his hand. He jerked it into his lap under the table. “Come on, Tim, you knew this was a possibility.”

  “It’s for the best.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve prayed and prayed.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He scanned the surrounding tables as if seeking a way to escape. Seconds passed. “I think I just got my answer.” He pushed back the chair ever so gently and stood. “Have a good life, Juliette.”

  “Come on, Tim. It’s only eight hours away.” She shoved between tables. His long stride forced her to scurry past other customers who stared unabashedly. She was making a scene. It would get back to her mom and dad. So be it. “Tim, Tim, stop.” She grabbed his arm as he pushed through the door and onto the sidewalk.

  “There’s nothing more to say. I knew this was a crapshoot.” He tugged his arm free and glowered at her. He never got mad. Never. Frustrated. Sarcastic. Borderline broody. But never angry. Until now. “I won’t stop praying for you. But I understand now. This wasn’t meant to be more than friend evangelism. I allowed myself to cross that line so I’m learning a hard lesson.”

  “Come with me. There’s so much to do in Billings. It’s a big city.” By Montana’s standards, Billings was a sprawling metropolis with 170,000 residents. “We can explore it together.”

  “Come as what? Your buddy?” His jaw worked. The pulse in his temple jumped. “You don’t get it. Playing with people’s feelings is dangerous. And wrong. Just wrong.”

  “I’m willing to make it more. You’re the one . . .” She paused to let the Wilkenses, who lived down the street from Aunt Tina, pass. They smiled and nodded. Tim smiled and nodded. Then went back to scowling at her. “You’re the one who can’t get past our differences. Every couple has differences. I have friends who are married, and one is Catholic and the other is Lutheran. They make it work.”

  He pivoted and started toward his truck.

  “Tim, come on. Can’t we at least talk like civilized human beings?”

  “This isn’t about differing denominations and you know it.” He jerked open the truck door and turned back. His stare would melt rubber. “It’s about believing or not believing. I can’t force you. You have to come to Jesus of your own accord. And until you do, we’re never going to be together.”

  He paused. His gaze softened. He ducked his head and stared at the sidewalk. “It breaks my heart.” He whirled, slid into the truck, and slammed his door. A second later the window whirred down. He stuck his head out. “You break my heart.”

  Then he drove away and left her standing there.

  “Love you too.”

  The truck disappeared and she still couldn’t move. Her throat hurt. Her head hurt. Acid burned her stomach.

  “Man troubles?”

  She jumped and turned. The waitress stood halfway in, halfway out the Grill’s door. She held out Juliette’s phone. “You forgot this. It’s been blowing up. I figured you decided against the Pepsis.”

  Juliette thanked her. Three texts from her mother.

  Come home.

  Come home now.

  Please come home now.

  Two more from Courtney.

  Whr r u? I need u.

  Mom’s crying. Come home.

  Didn’t they get it? Juliette couldn’t come home. Home was gone. Aunt Tina’s house was not home. She wished she could go home.

  Or anywhere but here.

  On my way sweetie.

  14

  Eureka, Montana

  Language escaped Mercy. Did her father speak in German or English? His mouth moved, but the words were gibberish. She bit her lip and concentrated on the tiny burst of pain. Better than acknowledging the enormous, looming, agonizing ache that permeated every bone and muscle in her body. The stoniness on her father’s face when he returned from the trip to Kootenai had told the story.

  Gone. Obliterated. Leveled.

  Leesa’s hand crept into hers. Mercy squeezed. Her sister squeezed back.

  Don’t cry. It’s only stuff. Don’t cry.

  Father sat at Grandma Knowles’s walnut dining room table, Moses on one side, Abraham on the other. Her hands spread, palms down on the embroidered tablecloth, Mother sat across from him. Despite her pale face, her expression never wavered when Dad delivered the news.

  The fire took everything except the lean-to where he stored the buggy.

  Did God call that a sense of humor?

  “What about Nickle and Dime?” Job climbed into Dad’s lap and snuggled against his chest. “Did you find them?”

  Dad’s rough-skinned hand rubbed Job’s back. His gaze dropped to the table. “We didn’t see them. All the animals, even the rabbits, are smart enough to know they have to leave when fire comes.”

  “What about the others?” Abraham asked. “Who else lost homes?”

  “At last count, Emmett said thirty-one buildings were lost, but many of them were outbuildings. We’re the only Plain family to lose a home.” Dad’s tone didn’t change. He might have been discussing the weather forecast. “Ian and Caleb’s cabin is gone. So is Luke and Samuel’s cabin and the one Andy shares with Henry. The rest are all Englisch homes.”

  “So the Beachys and the Masts have homes to return to?” Thank You, Gott. A tiny, insistent voice refused to be silenced. But why not us? Why not the Yoders?

  “Daniel’s shop is gone and their sheds. Robert’s outbuildings are gone, but the house still stands.”

  The grandfather clock next to the hutch dinged the hour in the silence. Five o’clock.

  It’s not fair. Life’s not fair.

  Mercy sneaked a gander at her siblings. Their faces ran the gamut. Shocked, stoic, worried, sad. But no one seemed angry.

  Am I the only one, Gott? Th
e only one who wants to stomp my feet and throw myself on the floor in an epic tantrum?

  No answer.

  She should be thinking of others, not herself. “The Knowleses?”

  “The house is gone. The stable. The sheds. Only their plant nursery survived.”

  “Where will we live now?” Hope leaned against Mom. “Will we stay here? What about our clothes and our books and our beds?”

  “And Grandma Zook’s cedar chest.” Leesa would be thinking of marriage. Her time was at hand. “It had the quilts in it that I was to have when I marry.”

  “And the table and chairs that were Grandma and Grandpa Yoder’s.” Mercy gripped her hands in her lap. “It’s hard to image our house without them.”

  “All things we can do without.” Dad’s stern gaze skipped from child to child. “It doesn’t matter if we understand these things. Gott’s will be done. We are blessed. We have each other. We have all we need.”

  “Your daed is right.” Mother wrapped her arm around Hope. She smiled. Her voice held steady. “I’ll use Grandma Knowles’s old Singer and get started on more pants for the boys. Leesa, tomorrow we’ll go into town for material. I’ll put together a list.”

  “Pots, pans, dishes, silverware.” Hope got into the spirit of things first. “Sheets and blankets and pillows.”

  “We don’t have beds . . .”

  Mother’s scowl stopped Seth from finishing his sentence.

  Starting over from scratch. Where would the money come from? How could this be God’s will? What made it a blessing?

  The questions tumbled over each other, trying to escape. Mercy gritted her teeth. Father’s expression said he expected them to fall in line. Especially his older children. The younger ones would follow suit.

  She counted to ten twice, then backward. “What about me, Mudder? What shall I do?”

  “You, I have a surprise for.” Dad stood, Job clasped against his side like a sack of potatoes, and strode from the room. “Don’t just stand there, come on.”

  Mercy did as she was told. Of course, everyone followed behind, their procession set to the music of Job’s delighted giggles. Through the kitchen, out the back door, and across the driveway to the freestanding garage. Emmett’s truck was backed into the driveway. The tailgate stood open in front of the garage door.

  Caleb leaned over a stack of desks in the truck’s bed. Her scholars’ desks.

  “They survived.” This time the tears threatened to escape. Mercy raised her hand to her mouth and swallowed hard. Breathe. “The school survived.”

  “It did.” Dad’s awkward pat on her shoulder served to make the tears that much harder to stymie. “Caleb and Ian and the other men helped load everything up to bring it here. Emmett let us use his truck. We figure you can have school in the garage until we’re allowed to go back.”

  At the sound of their voices, Caleb turned. He shoved his straw hat back. Sweat soaked the brim. His shirt was wet as well. “We could use some help here. Mercy, show us how you want them arranged.”

  “Jah. Of course. Danki for this.”

  Mercy whirled and scampered into the garage before he could see her face. He’d come to the school to warn her. He saved Lola—at least tried to save her. He gave them a ride home from the church. He gave no hint of the terrible hurt she must’ve caused him. He was such a good man. Her heart pounded in her chest. He showed her how he cared in so many ways. Why could he not take that one step further? To be vulnerable to her in a way no other person would ever be? Wasn’t that what husband and wife did?

  Nor did he raise the topic again. Confusion at his behavior ran circles around her. If only she could ask him. Did he not find her appealing enough to kiss? To touch? And why was that so important to her? Should it be?

  She had no one to ask.

  The dark garage smelled of car oil and grease even though it had been years since either of the Knowleses drove a car. Intricate, lacy cobwebs festooned boxes that lined one wall. Shelves on the other side displayed gardening tools, a Weed Eater, a blower, and all manner of household cleaners, paint, and varnish. This had served as Grandpa Knowles’s domain before his death three years earlier at the ripe old age of eighty-five.

  “I’ll wipe off the window above those boxes and see if I can get it open.” Caleb paused next to her. “Don’t worry. You’ll have it whipped into shape in no time.”

  The soft concern in the words loosened sadness’s grip on Mercy. Breathing came more easily. “I’m sorry about your cabin.”

  “I reckon it’s not the same as losing the house you grew up in.” His face somber, he set the desk to one side and scavenged in a box on top of a workbench until he came up with an old rag. “I only lived in that cabin two years. For you, it’s your whole life. That must be a bitter pill to swallow.”

  “Did you have mementos from your life back home there?”

  His face lined with sadness, he shook his head. “Some clothes, some household goods, that was it. I brought my tools and my books with me.”

  His books. He saved his books after telling her to leave hers at the school. “What are you reading right now?”

  A question she asked him every time she saw him when they were courting. Talking about books had been the highlight of many of their jaunts around the lake or hikes in the Cabinet Mountains. She missed that more than she thought possible. “I’m sorry. That’s none of my—”

  “A biography of Abraham Lincoln. It’s really good.” His face turned red as if caught in a naughty prank. “I finished another Louis L’Amour Western last week.”

  She had teased him about wanting to be a cowboy. She even bought him a cowboy hat for his birthday. They’d laughed so hard her sides hurt. His blue eyes turned dark with emotion. At that moment she’d been sure he would kiss her.

  So sure, she couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

  But he hadn’t. Instead, his face a deep red under his tan, he laid the hat on the table and offered her a piece of cake. “Did you save the hat?”

  His smile died. “I did.”

  She tore her gaze from his face and stared at the dirty cement floor. “It won’t be much use when it comes time to rebuild.”

  “It reminds me of better times.”

  The words were replete with bewilderment.

  She didn’t dare sneak a peek. A tiny flutter of air brushed her cheek.

  As if he might touch her.

  She squinted his direction. He turned away.

  “Gott’s will be done.” Glancing toward the door where her father stood talking to Aaron Plank, Mercy pushed a mower into a corner and out of the way. “That’s what Daed says.”

  “But that’s not what you say, is it?” Caleb popped open a wooden ladder and scooted it closer to the window. A few seconds later he had the narrow single pane open. Fresh air wafted through the stuffy garage. “It’s all right. I promise I won’t rat you out.”

  He knew how her mind worked. Even when she didn’t say anything. Perplexed, she studied Caleb’s face as he slid the ladder aside and began stacking boxes to make more room for desks. He was sincere when he said he wouldn’t tell on her. “It’s hard for me to understand how Daed can be so certain that this is Gott’s will. And why would Gott want us to be homeless? Why would He want us to lose everything we’ve ever had in a few short hours? What purpose does this suffering serve?”

  “I can promise you one thing. Your daed feels the loss strongly.” Caleb dusted his hands on equally dusty pants. “I don’t know what Gott’s plan is. None of us do. But Scripture says He ‘is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us.’ I try to hold on to that.”

  She’d caused him so much pain and yet here he stood, trying to make her feel better. “I’m sorry—”

  “It’s okay. I reckon your daed would like something cold to drink.”

  The door slammed shut on that conversation. “I’ll bring out some cold tea. For you too.”

 
; He slipped from the garage and began helping Abraham and Seth pull her big oak desk from the truck.

  Mercy surveyed the garage quickly filling with a hodgepodge of desks and boxes of books. Her new classroom. The swirling emotions didn’t abate. The fire, the destruction of her childhood home, Caleb, a stranger named Spencer McDonald whose face appeared in her mind’s eye at odd moments. Everything seemed to conspire to send her life spiraling out of control.

  The only thing she could do was bring cool drinks to a group of men who were hurting and trying not to show it. Think of others instead of herself. Caleb had shown her that by his example.

  It always came back to Caleb.

  15

  Eureka, Montana

  Grandma Knowles’s guest bedroom made escaping into a book easy. Mercy should’ve been asleep. Instead, dressed in a nightgown, she sat with her knees up and the gown pulled around her feet on the wide cushioned ledge next to the bay window. Floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with hardbacks, paperbacks, and children’s books surrounded her like a lovely group of friends. Deciding which book to read had been her biggest challenge. If she lived here, she would never leave. Never set foot in the garage that—as of a few hours earlier—served as her schoolroom.

  Hope snuggled against a pillow, her back to the light cast by the kerosene lamp Mercy stuck on the end table next to her perch. The little girl had been asleep the second she crawled under the rose-flowered comforter, a small lump in a king-size cherrywood bed.

  The book by an author named Janette Oke—Grandma Knowles had an entire shelf dedicated to the novelist’s works—was entitled When Calls the Heart. The novel told the story of a woman who left her home in Canada to teach in a coal-mining frontier town where the children were poorly educated and spoke little English. She did it because she had a calling.

  In this new town Elizabeth—that was the heroine’s name—had caught the interest of two men. Both were Mounties. Canada was only eight miles from where Mercy sat, so she understood what Mounties were and what they did. What she didn’t understand was how Elizabeth was supposed to know which one to choose.