by Ruth Reid
Thomas stared blankly at the man.
Noreen leaned closer. “Did you hear his question? He asked if your chest feels heavy.”
Thomas furrowed his brows at her. After nearly fifteen years of marriage, they could communicate without words. Her husband’s gaze held a warning she couldn’t easily ignore. Still, he hadn’t answered the rescuer’s question. A two-ton plow horse could be sitting on his chest and Thomas wouldn’t admit it was heavy.
“Tell the firefighter if your chest feels heavy,” she insisted.
Thomas touched his chest midsternum.
“That’s where it hurts?” Noreen turned to the worker. “What does that mean?”
“He really needs to see a doctor. His heart rate is fast, his blood pressure slightly elevated. I don’t like the congested sound I hear in his lungs.”
Thomas removed the oxygen mask again and coughed. “Mei throat’s . . . dry,” he rasped. “Noreen—” He coughed harder.
She pushed off the ground. “I’ll get you a glass of—” Her words caught in her throat. The house was gone. The water glasses, the leaky faucet that would never stop dripping, the kitchen cabinets Thomas had built . . . everything—gone. Her shoulders sagged. Lord, I feel so helpless. I can’t even get mei husband a cup of water for his parched throat.
Voices muffled around her and, for a moment, she had the sensation of everyone moving in slow motion. The firefighters packed equipment into compartments of the fire truck; their Englisch neighbors climbed into their cars. She hadn’t even thanked them.
Thomas barked another mucous-laden cough and Noreen sprang into action. She hurried across the yard to the washhaus. Without a lantern, it was impossible to see inside the wooden shed. She blindly felt her way along the wall until she touched the washtub, then she patted the area to the right where she had hung a washrag on a peg the day before. The rag would have to do. She hurried out of the building and over to the well pump.
Shards of pain tore through her shoulder muscles as she cranked the handle. The pump felt harder to prime than usual, but she persevered. A few forceful pumps and cold water gushed from the spigot. She soaked the cloth, wrung it out, then soaked it with water again. She didn’t want Thomas ingesting any soap residue left behind from cleaning. Even after she was sure the cloth was clean, she rinsed and wrung it out one more time. Her fingers stiffened and turned numb from the icy water, which should certainly soothe Thomas’s throat.
Patty strode across the lawn. “How’s your husband?”
“His throat’s dry and his lungs are filled with smoke,” she said.
“Is he going to the hospital to get checked?”
“He refused, and knowing how stubborn he is, nothing will change his mind.” Noreen gave the rag a tight squeeze, more an effort to release tension than to drain any excess water from the cloth. A few steps away from the pump, she glimpsed the flicker of lanterns in the distance, the glow reminding her of fireflies. The members were making their way to the parked buggies at the end of the driveway where the horses were tied a safe distance away from the fire to prevent them from spooking. Noreen twisted the washrag, then realized she’d extracted too much water and turned back to rewet it.
Patty followed her back to the pump. “Do you want to go with us to take the kinner home?”
Noreen shook her head. “I’m going to stay. Thomas might decide to go into the hospital. He might need me.” He wouldn’t. Thomas didn’t need anyone. She gave the rag a shake. “Thanks for your help. I appreciate it.”
“Once the kinner are settled, I’ll gather a few supplies. Jonathan plans to stay a little longer. I think Bishop Zook is too. Can you think of anything you’d like me to bring back?”
“A water glass would be nice. I’m wetting this rag for Thomas to suck on, but I’m sure he would appreciate more to drink.”
“Absolutely.” Patty placed her hand on Noreen’s shoulder. “Maybe when I kumm back, you’ll be ready to leave, jah?”
“We’ll see.” A hearty cough carried across the night air. “I imagine that’s Thomas reminding me about the water.”
“I’ll see you in a little while.” Patty headed toward her buggy.
Noreen returned to the area lit by floodlights from the fire truck. Thomas was still propped against the tree, breathing into a mask, the rescuer squatting next to him. To her untrained ears, his breathing sounded better. Less wheezy. His chest expanded and fell several times without triggering a coughing fit. That had to be good. She sat next to him and handed him the rag. “Hopefully, you can suck enough water out to help your thirst.”
Thomas removed the mask and rasped, “Danki” as he placed the corner of the cloth into his mouth. The longer he went without the mask, the more his lungs rattled. He hadn’t improved as much as she first thought.
She studied how his chest moved up and down in sync with the wheezy sounds he made. Inhaling, exhaling—it all looked exhausting for him. “Your breathing is still labored. Is the oxygen helping at all?” Her question was for the man attending him as much as for Thomas.
Thomas groaned.
Noreen noticed the worker’s strained expression and asked again, “He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”
“I still think he should see a doctor,” the man said.
A firefighter approached, wearing a reflective jacket and pants, clipboard in hand. His yellow, oversized rubber boots had a film of ashes covering them. He glanced at the clipboard. “Are you Mr. and Mrs. King?”
“Jah,” Noreen replied.
“I’m Lieutenant Kyle DeBoer. I was told you are the homeowners?”
Thomas withdrew the rag from his mouth. “Jah, that’s right.”
“We’ll be packing up our equipment and heading out shortly, but I wanted to let you know my report will be available tomorrow. I’m sure your insurance company will request a copy and I’ll file one with the county fire investigator as well.”
“We don’t have insurance,” Thomas said.
“Then you probably won’t need an investigational analysis to determine where and how the fire started.”
Noreen’s insides wrenched. They didn’t need an investigator to tell them what she already knew. She neglected the simmering beef stew. She caused the fire.
“Nay, we won’t need a report.” Thomas turned and coughed into his fist.
Noreen picked up the oxygen mask. “Maybe you should put this back on.”
“Nay, I’m fine.” Thomas pushed off the ground and stood. “How much do we owe you?”
“I don’t handle the billing.” The firefighter tapped his pen against the clipboard. “The fire department will send a bill to the township and from there I’m not sure. There might not be any charge for the service.” He motioned over his shoulder toward the smoldering embers. “Be careful around the ash pile. It’ll stay hot several more hours. You’ll also want to watch for any new hotspots that could develop. I don’t think you’ll have any problems, but secondary fires have been known to start even after a fire is thought to be contained.”
“Jah,” Thomas said. “I plan to keep a close eye on it all nacht.”
The man’s brows lifted and he turned to the other firefighter who had been administering the oxygen.
“Mr. King doesn’t wish to be transported for treatment,” the man who had been caring for him said.
“That’s right.” Thomas coughed.
The lieutenant eyed him a moment as if assessing Thomas’s condition. “Then I guess our work here is finished.” He offered a friendly smile before turning his attention to the other man. “How long do you need, Jack?”
“Five, ten minutes.” The firefighter glanced at his clipboard, flipped a page, then spoke to Thomas. “If you’re absolutely sure you don’t want to go to the hospital, I’ll need you to sign a release-of-treatment form.”
“I’ll sign it.”
Noreen leaned closer to Thomas. “Are you sure you don’t want to see the doctor?”
He shot he
r a let it be glare, turned to the worker, took the clipboard and pen, and jotted his signature on the form. “Thanks for your help,” he said before walking away.
If only she could fool herself into believing his curt behavior was an oddity. But it wasn’t. He wasn’t the same jubilant man she’d married fifteen years ago. But life had been different then.
CHAPTER THREE
April, fifteen years earlier
THEN MARRY ME.”
Thomas’s proposal stole Noreen’s breath. His brown eyes pleaded for her to answer jah, but her mind whirled with fragmented thoughts. She turned her gaze to the sun’s orange-red reflection shimmering over Sunken Lake. A proposal. She should feel honored. But rushing into marriage wasn’t the answer.
Thomas reached for her hand. “Let’s sit closer to the water.” He led her around the nettle bushes and down the grassy slope to the sandy shore where they sat on a fallen log. After a gentle squeeze of her hand, he let it go. He stared at the lake, elbows propped on his knees and chin rested on his fisted hands. Within seconds, he repositioned himself so he was straddling the log, facing her. “Is your tongue twisted?” He tipped her chin up slightly with the pads of his fingers. “Open your mouth.”
“What?”
“Oh, she does talk. For a minute there I thought something had caught your tongue.” He slapped his hands against his thighs. “Hmm . . . wonder what she’s thinking. Does she remember that only minutes ago a man proposed?”
Noreen smiled. “I’m thinking you’ve been breathing in too much wood glue. I only turned eighteen a few months ago. Mei sisters waited until they were in their midtwenties to marry. Besides—”
He stifled her words with a kiss. A kiss so complete it left her insides fluttering like a curtain on a windy day. When he lifted his lips from hers, his gaze held a determination she’d never seen before.
He cocked a grin. “You don’t want to wait until you’re an old maid, do you?”
“I still have a few more years before that happens. Eighteen is hardly the age to worry about growing old alone.”
“I suppose,” he said with a chuckle, “if you’re willing to take that risk.” He pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.
Old maid. She huffed, unsure if she should be annoyed by his statement or flattered by his persistence. Deciding she’d rather enjoy his company while they were still together, she leaned her head against his sturdy shoulder and snuggled into his warm embrace. If she could choose the ideal place to become engaged, it would be here—sharing a log next to the lakeshore at the end of a perfect day, yet the circumstances weren’t as ideal as they appeared. They hadn’t courted long. He’d only just recently kissed her, and up until then, she wasn’t sure why he kept asking to drive her home from the singings.
Noreen smiled, recalling how he’d hardly said a word and never looked her in the eye more than a few seconds in the beginning. Then, when he finally did kiss her, he did so with such complete control. Any measure of sound reasoning she’d once possessed disappeared with the rush of new sensations. At that moment, she was his. Even now, sitting next to him, her breathing was uneven. The same giddy, unbalanced, tingling sensations rippled through her veins as they did every time she was nestled in his arms. Yes, she could marry Thomas, raise a houseful of kinner, and be the most content fraa in the district. Thoughts filled her mind how nice cooking and cleaning and sewing for her husband would be. Her heart pounded harder, faster, nearly drowning out the lulling sound of meadow crickets chirping in the distance. Put things in perspective. Mamm and Daed would never allow her to marry.
Noreen pushed off his chest, shaking her head, grounding the lofty thoughts. “I’m leaving at the end of the month.” She swatted a swarm of pesky gnats. “I’m going to miss this place, the members of our district . . . you.”
“You say that like I’m an afterthought. You’ll miss the district and people—and oh, jah, you, too, Thomas.”
“You most of all.” If he could look inside her heart, he would understand she didn’t want to move, didn’t want to leave him.
“Then marry me,” he repeated, this time with more conviction.
She shook her head slowly. “Mei moving isn’t the reason we should get married.”
His smile faded.
Noreen stood. “It isn’t like I’m leaving Michigan,” she said, stepping just out of reach of the foamy wave. “Oscoda County is—”
He bounded up from the log. “Sixty minutes away by car in gut wedder. Mei horse wouldn’t make that trip.”
“We can write.” She took a step backward and the soles of her black leather shoes sank into the wet sand.
“Or we could get married.” He lifted his brows as if to prompt agreement, and when she didn’t respond, he slid his arm around her waist, pressed her against his chest, and captured her mouth fully.
She had known him all her life but never to be impulsive—nothing like this. A shudder washed over her as he trailed kisses from her mouth, over her cheek, and to her ear.
“I don’t want to be your pen pal,” he said, drawing his words in a husky breath. “I want to be your husband.”
He kissed her like she was already his wife, weakening her resolve. Yes, I’ll marry you, her mind echoed, but an inner voice of reason took over. Take captive every thought and bring it into submission.
Over the lake, a flash of lightning preceded a loud clap of thunder by only a few seconds.
“That was way too close.” Noreen pulled away, adjusting her prayer kapp as she stood. Raindrops plunked in the lake, creating ripples of circles.
Thomas didn’t seem concerned about the change in weather or finding shelter. “You haven’t given me your answer.”
“I haven’t even invited you to a family supper, and you’re asking me to be your fraa. What are mei parents going to think?”
Thomas tilted his face skyward as the rain came down harder. She hadn’t realized he was chuckling until he made eye contact with her again. “I’ve worked several summers for your father. I’ve eaten several meals with your family. He’s even asked me to—”
“To what?” Thunder rumbled in the distance.
“To make sure you get home safe.”
“Then I suggest you take me home before people talk about us leaving the singing so early.” She lifted the hem of her drenched dress enough that it didn’t drag over the ground and took off through the meadow where he’d tied his horse.
Thomas caught up to her. “Since when have you given any merit to tittle-tattle, Noreen Trombly?”
She stopped to catch her breath. “I don’t. Usually.” Until tonight. Leaving the singing as early as they had would certainly provoke a host of speculation. Her father would be waiting up—upset if she didn’t come home at a decent hour. Not to mention being soaked to the skin. He’d expect an explanation about that as well. “Kumm on.” She took off sprinting.
“Hey, wait up.”
She glanced over her shoulder and tripped on a slippery rock. Falling forward, the palms of her hands landed on a patch of bull thistle. “Ouch.” She shook her hands, feeling like a hundred needles had stuck her at once.
Thomas helped her up. “You don’t have to be in such a hurry. It’s nett like you’re going to melt in the rain.”
She looked down at her dress. She’d have to scrub hard to remove the mud stains.
“What are you fretting about? Even covered in mud, you’re beautiful.”
She continued to the buggy. “What makes you think I’m fretting?”
He opened the passenger door, waited for her to climb onto the bench, then untied his horse. Once he was seated beside her, he faced her. “I’ve known you a long time. I know when you’re happy, when you’re sad, and when you’re irritated. I know when you’re fretting over something.” He brushed a raindrop away from her cheek with the back of his hand. “And I know you don’t belong in Oscoda County. Your place is with me.”
Despite the chilly springtime air making her s
hiver, warmth she’d never experienced spread to her core as his arm came around her shoulders. She leaned her head against him. If only for the moment, this was where she belonged. At his side.
As quickly as the rain came, it disappeared. The ride home was much like their first ride together. Neither of them talked. But unlike the other times he’d driven her home, when he stopped the buggy next to her porch, he set the brake and climbed out.
Lantern light from the sitting room window spilled out on the porch as Noreen climbed the steps. “I had a nice time, danki.”
“I did too.” He leaned against the banister and crossed his arms. “What time should I kumm for supper tomorrow?”
“I must say, you’re awfully forward, Thomas King.” She eyed him carefully. The light from the window illuminating his confident smile. Perhaps she didn’t know him as well as she thought.
He pushed off the banister. “I don’t have much time to convince you to marry me, do I?”
CHAPTER FOUR
Present Day
THE MOSQUITOES HOVERED IN VICIOUS DROVES AS IF PREPARING to hibernate for the winter. Noreen slapped a mosquito biting the side of her neck while another one droned near her ear. Perhaps she should move closer to the burn pile. She’d sat next to the woodshed on the chopping block to get out of the smoke, but Thomas and the men hadn’t seemed bothered by the bloodsucking pests, which was probably because they hadn’t left the smoldering ashes. Thomas stood between his brothers, Jonathan and Levi, each with shovels in their hands. Noreen didn’t recall seeing Levi arrive, but he was covered in soot like the others. From where she sat, she couldn’t make out what Thomas was searching for, but the determined look on his face showed the object’s importance.
Bishop Zook approached the men and clapped Levi’s shoulder. Without the house to buffer the noise, the men’s short bursts of conversation carried across the lawn along with sporadic pops and crackles in the smoldering rubble.
A glow of lamplight flickered in Noreen’s peripheral vision. Patty ambled toward her, pillows, blankets, and a large brown paper bag in hand.