Mountains of Grace

by Kelly Irvin

  And even if she didn’t understand, faith was all about trusting. Trusting that which she could not see. Trusting in God’s goodness and His grace.

  Gritting her teeth, she hopped from the buggy and approached the building. She touched the smooth solidness of the door and ran her fingers over the rough-hewn logs. It wasn’t an apparition. It wouldn’t disappear from her life. Not today or tomorrow.

  Inside, sunlight poured through the windows, the beams highlighting dust and smoke that still lingered in the air. The smell of burnt dreams could not be escaped. It clung to the wood along with particles of lost dreams.

  The smell of a campfire would never be enticing again.

  “I thought that was you.”

  She turned to find Caleb standing in the doorway. A powerful wave of déjà vu swept over her. Only a month ago he’d been a past mistake who’d stood in that door and announced the approaching fire.

  Now he was her way forward.

  Tragedy had a way of stripping the veneer from a person until normally hidden emotion escaped through the wounds, through the sweat, through the blood, that seeped out.

  “I had to see.”

  “I knew you would be here.” Despite the autumn temperatures, his shirt was soaked with sweat and filthy. “We’ll need to paint.”

  No mention of the tender words spoken in the auditorium or the kiss. “Getting the windows open will help too.”

  “Wait, in case we get rain.”

  Rain would be a lovely, welcome respite. “Your cabin?”

  “We’ve started removing the debris.” He put his hand on his back as if reminded of the ache caused by such hard work. “Tobias and Aaron and Henry helped, but we stopped.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re headed to your place to help Jonah.”

  “You don’t want to get yours done?”

  “I want to take time to think about what needs to be built there.” His eyes were red rimmed from irritating soot and ash, but he smiled. “It won’t be a cabin this time.”

  Despite the images of devastation that pressed on her from every quarter, Mercy smiled. “No? What will it be?”

  “It will need three or four bedrooms and a big kitchen and a stone fireplace.”

  “For s’mores?”

  He grinned. “And warmth while we play checkers on long, cold winter nights.”

  We? “It sounds lovely.”

  “There’s so much work to be done. I have to go.” He moved toward her. Again, she met him halfway. Wasn’t that what love meant? Another kiss. Despite the urgency in his voice, he took his time, his hands moving from her cheeks to her shoulders, running down her arms, and then to her waist, leaving her breathless, weak-kneed, and longing for more. “See you at your house.”

  And he was gone.

  For a man who’d hesitated for so long, he seemed to be making up for lost time. Mercy put her hand to her warm lips. Not that she was complaining. She scurried from the schoolhouse. She, too, had much work to do. S’mores, kisses, and checkers in front of the fireplace beckoned to her in the distance.

  Her future beckoned.

  40

  Eureka, Montana

  A guy never got too old for story time. Spencer stood in the doorway and watched while Marnie read Three Billy Goats Gruff to Kylie and Mikey. All three were crisscross-applesauce on the braided rug in front of the couch. The coffee table had been moved and sheets draped over two kitchen chairs at each end between the couch and table. Thus creating the perfect tent.

  Janie, who lay on her back on a blanket, gurgled and batted at toys that hung overhead. Marnie read most of the story, but the kids chimed in at just the right moment when the line “Who’s that trip-trapping across my bridge?” appeared. Their voices deepened and they all laughed as if it were the funniest thing since they discovered farting in the bathtub.

  In the days since the memorial service, the cut on his forehead had healed. He removed the splints on his fingers without the approval of a doctor. His leg no longer hurt. His heart also seemed on the mend. Mercy’s advice to forgive his mother and return to the woman he loved pursued him no matter how hard he tried to forget it. Should he dive for cover under the couch or run until he hit the Mexican border? Maybe farther.

  Or he could take her advice and get over himself. Tim’s prayer still rang in his ears. His sins were forgiven. So were Marnie’s. All he had to do was accept it and let go of the past.

  A tall order.

  The story came to an end and Marnie closed the book. “Okay, wee-wuggums, it’s time for graham crackers and milk.” She crawled from the tent on her hands and knees. “And then what time is it?”

  “Nap time!” Mikey yelled.

  “Yep!” She glanced his way. Spencer waved. Marnie offered a self-conscious smile. “Nap time for Mikey and quiet time for Kylie.”

  “Sounds good to me. Snacks and naps.” Spencer leaned down to receive two advancing whirlwinds who discovered his presence at the same time as their grammy. “Two things no one should ever give up. You’ll remember I said that when you’re out in the world adulting and wondering what you got yourself into.”

  “Do you want milk?” Mikey tugged on his arm. “Snacks, snacks.”

  “In a minute. You go sit at the table.” He nudged the tiny dynamo toward the kitchen. “I need to talk to Grammy for a minute.”

  “Let me set them up with their snacks.” The careful politeness of the past week resurfaced. She picked up Janie and held her out. “Hang out with your niece until I come back.”

  He settled his crutches against the wall and took the baby. They’d become fast friends over the last month. Her familiar scent of formula and baby stuff made him smile. “What’s up, cutie pie?”

  Marnie left him holding the bag, so to speak. Janie had wispy blonde hair on top of her head but not much on the sides. Her eyes were blue and her skin milky white. She fit nicely in the crook of one arm. “Have I mentioned that your momma will have to fend off the boys with a stick when you get older?”

  Janie didn’t seem to make much of that observation. He wiped at some drool on her chin. She grabbed his finger and gummed it. Her fingers were so tiny.

  So perfect. So unblemished.

  “I don’t know how God came up with this design, but He knew what He was doing.”

  Janie’s rosebud lips widened. She yawned.

  “Am I boring you?”

  No response. Her eyes closed.

  “Guess so.”

  He settled into the glider rocker and waited. Contentment, so long a stranger in his life, stole over him. For once, he didn’t fight it or question it.

  Marnie returned minutes later with a milk mustache and a handful of graham crackers. “Want one?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry?”

  “You apologized for not being a better mother when I was a kid.” Ignoring the urge to remind her of what an understatement that was, he stared at Janie’s petite sleeping face. “I blew it off. I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I don’t blame you. It’s a lot to forgive.” She nibbled at a cracker. “I probably don’t remember half the stuff I did or didn’t do in those days. I know I missed your high school graduation. I wasn’t there when Kylie was born. I barely remember when Mikey was born. And from Angie’s reaction to the fire the other night, I apparently started a fire and put both of you in terrible danger . . .”

  Her face lined with regret and resignation, she stared at the window over his shoulder. Tears trickled down her cheeks and dripped on her red Bon Jovi concert T-shirt. “How is it possible that I don’t remember that night?”

  “You were out of it.”

  “All these years I kept telling myself it wasn’t that bad. You guys didn’t have it that bad. At least I stayed. I tried to bury the fact that your dad left because of me. It was my fault you grew up without a father.” She dumped the crackers on the table, grabbed a tissue, and scrubbed her face. “And the
n to find out I almost killed you. No wonder you refused to come back. I can’t imagine how Angie has been able to stand to be around me, let alone let me close to those kids.”

  Spencer grappled with conflicting emotion. She was right. Spot-on. Everything she said rang true. Yet watching her beat herself up was agonizing. For the first time in his life, those years appeared before him through her eyes. “Angie is better at forgiving than I am. She’s a better person than I am.”

  “It’s more like she suppressed it all and it all came bursting out and exploded in my face.”

  “For which she immediately felt terrible because that’s who Angie is.”

  “She’s a believer. She doesn’t just talk the talk, she walks the walk.” Marnie wadded up the tissue and stuck it in her pocket. “I feel terrible because I’m responsible for your lack of faith on top of everything else.”

  “I’m a big boy. It’s on me if I choose not to go to church.”

  “I hate to think you don’t have God or a good woman in your life. A man needs both.”

  Pretty Patty’s sweet face floated through his mind. A man had to take responsibility for his actions. And just because he didn’t go to church didn’t mean he didn’t believe in God. He’d just preferred to run his own life.

  Patty’s husky voice whispered in his ear. “How’s that working out for you, big man?” A shiver, almost like fever, ran through him. Not good, not good at all. He was tired of going it alone. “If I don’t, it’s my own fault.”

  “But I didn’t set the example. I didn’t establish a foundation. I never prayed. I never read the Bible.” Marnie grabbed her hair and wound it into a knot. A sudden memory surfaced of those hands braiding Angie’s hair the day she started first grade. It did happen. There had been normal days. “You never had good role models for relationships or marriage.”

  “At least you taught me what not to do.” He tried out a laugh. It sounded more like a half sob. He heaved a breath. “It’s not like Dad did much better.”

  “It’s my fault he left. He’s not to blame for my sins.”

  “A stronger man would’ve stayed. He would’ve helped you quit.” Spencer counted to ten silently. Too many years of keeping all this stuff bottled up. It was like prying stones from rock-hard frozen ground. “He could’ve been a parent to Angie and me when you weren’t.”

  “All true and that’s on him.” Her voice quivered as she rubbed at reddened eyes. “You kids probably don’t remember, but your dad did his share of drinking. That’s what we had in common. It’s how we met. Not a foundation for having a family. But he managed to hold a job and confine his drinking to the weekends. I couldn’t.”

  “Like you said, addiction is a disease.” Spencer’s thoughts played ring-around-the-rosy with the question he hadn’t asked in ten years. He shifted the sleeping baby to his other arm, careful not to jostle her. “Do you ever hear from him?”

  “Once in a blue moon.”

  “So you don’t know where he is?”

  “Last time I talked to him was when Janie was born. He was in Seattle. He and his wife. I thought since he was close he might want to come and meet his grandkids.”

  “But he didn’t.”

  “He didn’t say that.” She winced and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “In fact, I think if he could see them without running into me, he might do it.”

  The next question stuck in Spencer’s throat. He swallowed. “Does he ever ask about me or Angie?”

  Her bright smile was reminiscent of the one she gave them in the old days when they wanted supper and there was no food in the house. “Sure, sure he does.”

  And there really was a Santa Claus. “Anyway, I just wanted to say I hope you’ll accept my apology for being such a hardhead.”

  “You don’t know how much that means to me.” Marnie slipped over to his chair. She leaned down and kissed the top of his head the way she used to do when he was under four feet tall and leaving for school in the morning. He breathed in her scent of Ivory soap and Jergens lotion. The memories were there. Hidden under mounds of ugly emotional debris. “Forgiving is one thing. Learning to trust is another. I don’t expect Rome to be built in a day. I’m hoping you consider meeting Jacob.”

  “Can I get back to you on that?”

  She backed away and swiped at her face with both wrinkled hands. “Sure you can, honey.”

  Honey. The memory of that slurred voice calling him late at night into a darkened, smoky living room, TV flickering the only light, asking him to bring her some ice loomed. He fought it back into its box. “Can you do me a favor? Call me Spencer.”

  “Absolutely. I don’t mean to—”

  “Just starting fresh.”

  “Right.” She scooped up the crackers. “I need to check on the kiddos. They like to dunk the crackers. They tend to make a mess.”

  “Have you received the check yet?”

  “Came today. We’re ready to get to work.”

  “Who’s we?”

  She beamed. “Jacob is good at fixing things. We’ll start demoing on Tuesday. My friend will watch the kids. You should come. Demoing is the fun part. Maybe you can work out some of your aggressions and help at the same time.” Her smile faded. “If you want, that is, and you don’t have—”

  “I’ll think about it, Marnie.”

  “Could you do me a favor?”

  “Okay.”

  “Call me Mom.”

  Full circle. He stood, handed over sleeping beauty, and hotfooted it from the living room before he did something stupid like cry.

  God, I’m trying. Marnie—Mom—isn’t the only one who needs grace. I don’t deserve it, but a pretty lady once told me You have more than enough to go around. Help me to forgive and forgive me.

  Thanks. I mean, amen.

  41

  West Kootenai, Montana

  In the days since they’d been allowed back into West Kootenai, help had come in waves. Waves of friendship, hard work, and loving support. Caleb gulped down a huge swallow of water and let the dipper hang from its rope attached to the Igloo. It sat on one of nearly two dozen picnic tables arranged in the field in front of what used to be the Yoders’ front yard. The spread of food could surely feed the towns of Kootenai, Rexford, and Libby combined. And Eureka thrown in for good measure. Ham, chicken, roast beef, and peanut butter spread sandwiches on homemade bread. Bushel baskets of apples, oranges, plums, and peaches. Pasta salads, green salads, gelatin salads, pickles, green tomato relish, potato chips, cookies, cakes, pies. And everything needed to serve the food.

  A turnkey production by the most efficient catering service the English world would rarely, if ever, see.

  Women from as far away as St. Ignatius and Lewistown bustled back and forth between coolers and boxes behind the tables, replenishing food as the workers, at least fifty of them, took turns filling their plates.

  The weather cooperated by offering a gorgeous October day. Temperatures that morning began at a crisp forty-five degrees. The sun warmed their faces and offered a soft breeze of encouragement.

  Meanwhile, the enormous task of removing debris and depositing it in mobile Dumpsters had begun. Jonah, wearing long sleeves, boots, a hat, and a mask, led the charge. The difference was already apparent. The walls of the cement basement would soon be revealed.

  Caleb’s back ached and his shoulders hurt, but it felt good. He wiped his face with his sleeve and turned to head back to the detritus that had been the Yoder home. A platter of sandwiches in her hands, Mercy stepped into his path.

  “Did you get enough to eat?”

  “When a sweet woman offers me food, I can’t help but accept.” The image of her standing in their kitchen someday offering him a platter of eggs and bacon seemed so real he could smell the bread toasting. He took a sandwich. He’d been down this road before. How did he know she wouldn’t say no again? He glanced around. “I’d like another kiss for dessert.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “Rain check?”


  “I’ll hold you to that.” Why had it been so hard to say and do these things before? Now that he’d kissed her, all he could think about was kissing her again and again. Any residual bitterness from past lives and love dried up and blew away in the brisk October breeze.

  “It’s nice of you to come here first when your own cabin needs work.” She ducked her head and placed the platter on the table. “So many people have come. It’s amazing. Gott is gut.”

  “So gut.” Good to give Caleb another chance with this woman. Everything else paled in comparison. “I’ve had another letter from my mudder.”

  Mercy took a step closer. “What did she say?”

  “She said they’ll come out for a visit in the spring after I’ve had a chance to rebuild.” He heaved a breath. “I was thinking it would be a gut time for her to meet you and your mudder and daed.”

  “A really gut time.” Mercy was so pretty when she blushed like that. “Your house should be done by then.”

  Their house.

  * * *

  Mercy’s back ached and her shoulders hurt, but the creepy crawlies were gone from her brain. The harder she worked, the better she felt. She stretched on her tippy-toes and then relaxed against the picnic table. Come what may, she was ready. Everything about the morning—the fresh autumn air, the chatter of friends and family from communities across northwest Montana, the hard work—spoke of optimistic new beginnings.

  The feeling of hope had arrived like the prodigal son returning to the fold.

  Juliette plopped down next to her. “How are you?”

  “Wunderbarr, actually. How about you?” She took the saucer-sized oatmeal-raisin cookie offered by her friend. “Now that the school is clean and neat and open and I have my books back, I feel better.”

  “Good.” Juliette leaned closer and eyeballed her. “You look really wunderbarr. Come on, girl, tell me what’s got you blushing like a girl with new undies from Victoria’s Secret?”

  “Juliette!”

  “I’m sorry. I forgot. Proper Amish girls don’t wear fancy panties or any panties at all, maybe. Do you wear panties?”