A Flicker of Hope

by Ruth Reid

  Mr. Trombly quietly cleared his throat as if to remind them he was in the room.

  Heat infused Thomas’s face. Thankfully, a clatter in the kitchen drew her father’s attention away.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Present Day

  THOMAS DRAGGED THE RAKE THROUGH THE DEBRIS, FEELING as useless as the burned rubbish he moved from one spot to another. The lantern light limited his ability to see beyond a small circumference, so he’d have to wait until daylight to thoroughly sift through the pile. But he had to do something.

  Off to his right, a glow of lantern light illuminated Noreen’s form as she sat perched on the chopping block, shoulders hunched and her hands wrapped around a mug. He should have insisted she go home with Jonathan and Patty. Outside was no place for her. The mosquitoes this time of the year were merciless. And admittedly, he wasn’t much company. She hadn’t always appreciated his need to have time alone and he had zero desire to listen to her optimistic rhetoric. Sure, he was thankful that she got out safe, that he could finally take short breaths without much pain, and that the fire didn’t spread to the barn or past their corn field. But God could have prevented the fire in the first place. Had He wanted to, God could have prevented the past fifteen years of heartache. But who was he to understand the mind of God?

  Thomas took a short breath without discomfort, then tested his lungs further and breathed in deeply. This air exchange triggered a cough, which produced a thick substance in the back of his throat. The time he’d had walking pneumonia, he coughed up greenish phlegm. This constant cough hours after the fire was no doubt God’s way of reminding him that he wasn’t out of the woods. Maybe his thankfulness had been in vain. Next, the muscles between his ribs would spasm. That had been happening sporadically since he went back into the house to retrieve the tin box.

  Thomas coughed hard and spat a liquid, coal-tinted substance onto a piece of wood that used to support the tie beam. The sizzle told him the building material and household contents were still too hot to handle. Perhaps tomorrow cleanup could start.

  Timorous footsteps approached from behind. He turned slightly and noticed Noreen walking stiffly, trying hard not to spill the contents in the mug she was carrying. “I poured you some kaffi,” she said softly, eyes on the liquid sloshing over the rim of the mug. “It won’t stay warm much longer and without a kettle—” Her words broke. She glanced up and offered a weak smile along with the mug. “I thought you might want to take a break.”

  He hadn’t done any work yet, but he set the rake on the ground and accepted the mug. “Danki.”

  “Can I get you one of the cheese sandwiches Patty brought?”

  “Nett nau.” He took a drink. The tepid coffee was too strong to appreciate hot or cold. Thomas studied Noreen as she stared at the smoldering mound. He couldn’t help but wonder if she was rehashing memories of better times or simply pondering their losses.

  She cleared her throat. “I heard Rebecca gave birth to a boy. Your bruder must be thrilled.”

  “He should be. Levi got the sohn he’d wanted.”

  “You make it sound as if he’s been disappointed with his three daughters.”

  “Of course that isn’t true,” Thomas snipped. “What man wouldn’t feel blessed to be a father? Sohn or daughter.”

  She turned her gaze to the ashes. “I thought I was going to die in the fire. When you showed up in the kitchen . . .”

  “You were surprised.” He finished her sentence. Despite using a soft, even tone, she recoiled, a wounded—or was it appalled?—look in her eyes.

  “I just wanted to thank you for saving mei life,” she snapped.

  They were both tired and on edge. The Bible warns of tribulations, and this was just another trial. Either they would work through it or it would drive a deeper wedge between them. But that wasn’t new. He took another swallow of bitter coffee and grimaced.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered.

  He lifted his mug. “You didn’t make the kaffi.” He cracked a smile, hoping it would help diffuse the tension between them.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated, stiffening her back and evening out her tone, “that you felt obligated to save me.”

  Obligated? He didn’t know any man who wouldn’t try to protect his family, rescue them, lead them to safety. It was the husband’s duty—his role. He stifled the thought to set her straight and instead took a deep breath and released the tension in a sigh. “You should have gone home with Jonathan and Patty. You won’t be comfortable here.”

  She stared at him hard, eyes watery. “You think I’m too feeble to sleep in the barn, but I’m nett.”

  “That’s nett what I meant.” He tossed the last bit of coffee on the cinders, the hissing reminding him of when water boiled over the kettle spout and hit the surface of the wood stove. Now, the cast-iron stove, with its detached stovepipe, stood by itself, its white enamel coating burned down to the primer.

  She reached for his empty mug. “I’m going to make up a bed in the hayloft . . . if you care to join me.”

  “Later.” He snatched the rake off the ground. “I need to watch to make sure the fire doesn’t restart.” It wouldn’t, the firemen had doused it good, but he needed some excuse to avoid spending more time with his wife. She was being emotional again and he wasn’t in the mood to tiptoe around her this time.

  Noreen walked away, crossing the lawn in the darkness. A few moments later, lantern light flickered in a barn window.

  Thomas recalled how they had once promised each other that they’d never go to bed angry, but that was years ago—things were different then.

  A sharp spasm in his rib muscles stole his breath. He clasped one hand over his chest and gripped the rake handle tightly, diffusing the pain. Lord, help me.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  April, fifteen years earlier

  THOMAS GUIDED NOREEN BY THE ARM DOWN THE WOODED path. “You’re nett peeking, are you?”

  “Nay.” She giggled.

  He tipped his head slightly to get a better view of the blindfold placement. Her eyes were covered by his handkerchief.

  She sniffed the air, her nose twitching like a rabbit. “I know we’re nett at the lake.” She sniffed again. “Damp. Mossy. Balsam.”

  He wasn’t surprised she figured out quickly they were in the woods. He loved the woodsy scent in the spring especially after it rained. Twigs snapped under his feet.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “Almost there.” He spotted a fallen tree blocking the path a few feet ahead and he stepped in front of her. “Careful, there’s a tree down.” He reached for her hand. “Watch your step.”

  “How do I manage watching mei step wearing a blindfold?”

  He chuckled. “Gut point. I suppose you’ll have to rely on me, won’t you?” He crossed the rotted log backward, keeping his eyes on Noreen. “Big step.”

  She followed his instructions, gingerly feeling her way with her foot over the fallen oak. Suddenly, her balance shifted, both arms teetered. “Ach! Thomas!”

  He caught her before she tumbled to the ground. “I have you.”

  “I’m nett sure I like being led blindly anymore.”

  “I won’t let you fall.” He coaxed her forward. “Just a few more feet.” He chuckled at the way she shuffled her feet along the mulched bed of pine needles. He stopped her. “Okay, you can look.”

  She peeled off the cloth binding and scanned the area.

  He pointed to a red rag tied around a large maple. “I’m going to build a swing and attach it to that limb so we can swing as we grow old together.”

  She smiled weakly, confusion spilling into her gaze.

  He placed his hands on her shoulders and pivoted her westward. He inched closer and drew her attention to the large oak with the blue rag tied around it. “That’s one corner of the haus.” He pointed to another blue rag tied to a tree a few feet to the left. “That’s another and,” he said, directing her attention to the heavier wooded area wher
e the third and fourth marked trees were impossible to view because of the dense woods, “the other boundaries are just beyond those pines and before the stand of birch trees.”

  “The haus?”

  “Our haus.”

  “And the white rags?”

  “Those are the trees I’m keeping. Everything else will be taken down. We’ll have a large lawn and garden area. The barn will go somewhere over there.” He motioned to the right, but she wasn’t following. Her face had turned ashen. He dropped his arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “Thomas, I can’t go against mei father’s wishes.” As tears collected on her lashes, she averted her gaze. “If he knew I was with you—alone in the woods . . .”

  “We’re nett doing anything wrong.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Her mouth trembled and a breathy sob broke loose. “I can’t marry you.”

  A week after Thomas’s proposal, Noreen cut through the woods on his property and spotted him sitting with his back against the maple tree, fiddling with a stick. “I’m glad you got mei message.”

  “You said it was important.” He tossed the debarked stick and patted the mossy ground beside him.

  “I can’t stay long.” She scanned the wooded area. Thomas’s property was tucked off the main road, but someone could be out mushroom picking and stumble across them. Satisfied they were alone, she plopped down beside him. “I wasn’t sure I’d be able to steal away. Mamm had me doing laundry all morning. I hung the bedding on the line and then told her I needed more boxes from town.” Hearing movement in the foliage, she looked to her right. A squirrel sprung from the bushes and scaled a nearby tree. Blowing out a breath, she caught him studying her.

  His eyes twinkling with mischief and sporting a lopsided grin, he placed his arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. “Why are you so nervous?”

  “I told you. I’m supposed to be packing—or going after boxes. Not spending time with you in the woods. Alone.” But she had to see him.

  Thomas frowned. “He’s still sore about us leaving the singing early, isn’t he?”

  She nodded.

  “I should have known better. I’m sorry I got you in trouble.” He tipped her chin up. “Before supper the other nacht, I asked him for your hand in marriage. For his blessing.”

  “And he said nay.”

  “He said I was unprepared.”

  Until he motioned to the building site, she hadn’t noticed the sawdust around a few of the trees.

  “I’ve been cutting down trees,” he said, smiling proudly. “I’m preparing the land.”

  Thomas cupped his hand over her shoulder and plotted aloud the house he planned to build, the square feet, the number of bedrooms, the pros and cons of building a basement, but she couldn’t concentrate on anything but the weight of his arm around her and sharing this place next to him—where she belonged.

  “I want a big wraparound porch,” he said, lifting his hand long enough to point and remind her of the staked-out markers.

  If she closed her eyes, she could visualize the white painted banisters, the mat at the door for people to wipe their feet, and a colorful array of hanging planters filled with blooming pink petunias. She could see it all because Thomas had a way of describing every detail, bringing it all to life.

  “You don’t want a wraparound porch?” He broke her silence.

  “I do, it’s just . . .” It seemed pointless to plan a house they might never share. The distance between the districts would prohibit spending time together. Not like this.

  “I’m going to ask your father to kumm look at the land. Maybe if he sees where I plan to build and that I’ve started to timber the property, he will give us his blessing. The lumber for the haus is already cured. These logs will be used eventually for the barn. Soon, I’ll have enough money to purchase the windows and insulation, and Jonathan is giving me a wood stove that one of his Englisch customers no longer wants.” He chuckled. “I’m getting carried away, aren’t I?”

  “You’re excited, and I am too.”

  “Your father will think differently when he sees for himself that I can take care of you.”

  She would like nothing more than for Thomas to take care of her, to live on this plot of land, and to be his wife. But her father wasn’t an easy man to convince, which was why her sisters waited until they were in their midtwenties to get married. After they move next week, Thomas might grow weary of waiting. He might find someone else to share his life. She wished her father hadn’t been injured. Then they wouldn’t be forced to sell the farm and move. Leaving Thomas, her childhood home, her friends, the district . . . Cast all your care upon Him, for He cares for you. Don’t worry about tomorrow . . . And don’t think about moving, she chided herself.

  She reached for Thomas’s hand and twined her fingers with his. “Can the kitchen windows face the barn?”

  He grinned. “Of course.”

  “I’d like to have something to look at while I’m preparing the meals and doing dishes,” she said, falling into sync with their earlier topic.

  “You can have anything you want.” He shifted slightly, his gaze intent. “I’m serious, Noreen.” He lifted his hand to her face and caressed her cheek with the calloused pads of his fingers. “I want you to have the house of your dreams.”

  Her insides warmed. She lowered her head as heat reached her cheeks.

  “Why are you blushing?” he teased, nudging her shoulder with his.

  “Maybe our haus needs more bedrooms. I do want a houseful of kinner.”

  “Do I need to build a third story? Because if you want a dozen or more kinner, I’m all for it.”

  “I don’t think a third story is necessary.” She chuckled softly. “There’s plenty of land to build an addition.”

  Thomas leaned closer. “I knew the first time I kissed you that I was going to marry you.”

  “You did? I mean—you hardly looked me in the eye for weeks.” Obviously since their first kiss, he’d morphed into a man with purpose. He wasn’t averting his gaze either. If she was reading his expression right, his big brown eyes had reached a whole new level of intensity.

  He traced his finger around the outline of her lips. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” Her voice quivered as charges electrified her nerves.

  He kissed her cheekbone lightly, then trailed soft kisses down the bridge of her nose and to her lips. His slow, careful movements brought her off the ground as she moved into his embrace, parting her lips, tasting a hint of coffee on his tongue. Caught up in the moment, in the tenderness of his touch, something unleashed within her. A soft moan escaped her when his hand moved to the small of her back and he pressed her harder against him. Yes, she was his. This moment would live in her mind forever.

  The hardened sound of someone clearing their throat broke them apart. Peering up at her father’s scowled expression, her heart pounded, the beats jumping over themselves.

  Thomas bolted to his feet. “Mr. Trombly, we were just—”

  “Noreen, go to the buggy. Nau!”

  Two days after Noreen’s father found them in the woods together, Thomas answered the knock on the screen door hoping to find Noreen, but instead found Jonathan’s fiancée, Patty, eyes red-rimmed and sniffling. His brother and Patty’s wedding was next week; perhaps her tears had something to do with that.

  “Jonathan went into town,” Thomas explained.

  “I came to give you this.” Patty extended a letter-sized tin box toward him. “It’s from Noreen. She asked me to give it to you.”

  “Oh?” He stepped onto the porch and inspected the box. It looked like something she would keep sewing supplies in.

  “Noreen wrote you a letter and said it was inside.”

  “Danki.” He eyed Patty, who was obviously shaken. “Are you okay?”

  “Nay, nett really.” Her voice squeaked and her eyes were budding with tears. “I have to go.” She twirled around, hurried off the porch, and climbed into her b
uggy.

  His brother would have his hands full when he married that one. The woman’s emotions were braided as tight as twine. Thomas closed the door and turned his attention on the tin box. Opening it, he discovered an envelope with his name scrawled on the front and removed it.

  Dear Thomas,

  I don’t even know how to begin this letter. The guilt and shame I feel is overwhelming. I never should’ve snuck away to meet you in the woods. My father is furious. He still hasn’t spoken to me and it’s been two days. My mother just cries—a lot.

  I heard my parents talking last night about me. My behavior has disgraced the family. They’re sending me to live with my sister. I don’t know when. Oh, Thomas, I shouldn’t have gone against their wishes. I hate that my daed looks at me with disgust, like I’m tainted now. I hate that my mother cries all the time because of me. But I hate not being with you. Planning our future, our house.

  I don’t think I’ll have a chance to sneak away again. I’ll have to settle for seeing you on Sunday (that’s if I’m not shipped off before then).

  Love,

  Noreen

  Thomas folded the letter and placed it back in the tin. He couldn’t let Noreen’s father think poorly of her. He had to set things straight.

  “Was someone at the door?” His mother set the basket of dirty laundry on the floor.

  “Patty, but I told her Jonathan had gone into town.” He pointed to the basket. “I need to run an errand. Would you like me to carry the laundry basket out to the washhaus?”

  “That would be great, danki.” She followed him outside and scurried ahead of him to open the door to the washhaus. “You can set it next to the tub.”

  He lowered the clothes basket.

  “Are you going to be home for supper? I think Jonathan is having his meal with Patty’s family. Levi will be home so it’ll be the three of us.”