Out of the Ashes

by Tracie Peterson

  “This way, please.” The tour guide’s voice echoed through the tunnel.

  While every other lady had a lantern, Katherine insisted they only needed one between the two of them, so she could carry it and Grandmother could use her cane. But the older woman always seemed to take it from her.

  “I guess that means we better continue on our way.” Grandmother dusted off her skirt and once again captured the lantern.

  Katherine shook her head. She didn’t mind following behind and bringing up the rear of their little party. It kept her from having to converse with strangers and gave her time to take in all the breathtaking sights. Grandmother had given her lots of space today, and for that she was thankful. It was refreshing to fully enjoy something again. It had been almost five years since the last time. . . .

  Memories of a dark-haired young man with beautiful green eyes filled her mind. Oh, how she had loved him. He’d shown her so many wonderful places in France and always made her feel like a princess. If only she could go back to those days. Before all the ugliness. Before the monster had been unleashed.

  Randall had known she didn’t love him. He even knew she loved another, but it didn’t matter. In fact, he seemed to very much enjoy knowing he had played a part in separating true love. She closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, trying to will the memories from her mind.

  Straightening her shoulders and opening her eyes, Katherine realized she’d stopped walking. Why did all thoughts of Randall turn her into stone? He was gone. For good. But the damage had been done. Grandmother assured her that she could heal and come back from it. But how?

  How could she ever move past the violence and the constant barrage of hateful words? He’d drilled ugliness into her every single day for three years.

  She’d been relieved when he died. As horrid as that seemed, it was true.

  But joy and happiness eluded her. She couldn’t find her way back.

  Because he haunted her. Haunted her thoughts. Every time she looked in the mirror, she heard his voice. Every time she tried to move past the ugliness, she remembered his words. And she often woke in the middle of the night feeling one of his blows against her back or legs.

  Yes, she’d been relieved when he died. But a new torture had only begun.

  The silence around her brought her out of her memories. Looking up, all she could see was black.

  She wanted to move but couldn’t remember what was around her. How many steps had they taken since the Bottomless Pit? Was she still close? Was the path smooth or did it drop off? She couldn’t remember. Her thoughts had taken over and she’d pushed the real world aside.

  Now there was nothing but darkness closing in. Her eyes couldn’t even adjust. There wasn’t a bit of light anywhere. And now she couldn’t take a full breath. It was like the time Randall locked her in the closet. She’d never known a fear of small places until that moment when the blackness seemed to snuff out all the air.

  Her heart plummeted and she decided to sit on the path where she stood so she wouldn’t collapse and fall to her demise. How long before Grandmother noticed she wasn’t behind her?

  The thought made her heart race. If the path ahead was strenuous, Grandmother would be focused on that. Not the fact that Katherine wasn’t behind her.

  Randall’s voice began to ping around in her brain. Every insult, belittling comment, and tormenting bellow competed for an audience.

  “No. Stop! No.” Katherine threw her hands over her ears. She closed her eyes against the dark that pressed her further and further into the damp limestone floor. It seemed to squeeze the very life out of her, making it harder and harder to breathe. Suffocating her.

  Would this be the end? Would she die here in the dark being tormented by the words of a dead man who vowed to love and cherish her?

  Why God? Why? Grandmother says that You love me—but how can You? How could You let me experience a taste of love and then snatch it away? How could You allow my father to arrange a marriage to Randall? How could You watch the torture and just let me live through it?

  Why am I even here? I’m worthless! Not good for anything.

  Katherine dropped her hands from her ears and pulled her knees up under her chin. Let the darkness take her. Her breaths were coming in short gasps now. She had nothing to live for anyway. . . .

  A faint sound—like humming—echoed through the silence. It came closer. Katherine knew that voice. Knew the song too. It had been the only thing to get rid of her bad dreams when she was a child.

  As Grandmother’s voice washed over her, tears ran down her face.

  “Jesus loves me this I know . . . for the Bible tells me so . . . Little ones to Him belong . . . they are weak but He is strong.”

  Katherine opened her eyes and saw a small circle of light pierce through the blackness and come toward her. “Grandmother.” The name left her lips on a whisper as the echo of footsteps filled the space around her. Sobs shook her body.

  “Yes, Jesus loves me. Yes, Jesus loves me.” The song continued on as the light came closer.

  “Katherine, I’m here. I heard your cries. But more importantly, God heard them. Before I ever could. He prodded me to turn around.”

  “Why does God hate me?” The crushing of the darkness from before pressed in again. Harder. Stronger.

  “Oh, my dear. He doesn’t hate you. He loves you so much.”

  “No—how could He leave me like that?” Katherine cried. “He left me here with this darkness. It’s pushing and pressing all around me.”

  The footsteps stopped. “In the name of Jesus Christ who is above every name”—Grandmother’s voice was stronger than Katherine had ever heard it—“I say to you, darkness, to flee.”

  The vise she’d felt around her chest fell away. Katherine took a deep breath and inhaled Grandmother’s familiar peppermint scent.

  “‘For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.’ That’s from Romans chapter eight.” Grandmother nodded and brought the light close to Katherine’s face.

  The lantern lit up the entire area around them in a beautiful golden glow. The pressure around Katherine was gone. She could fill her lungs again. “How . . . ? What did you do?”

  “I believe that the enemy is strong, my dear. But our God is stronger. He is the light. And no matter what hold the enemy has had on you through Randall Demarchis’s evil actions or words, we need to give it all to the Savior, who is defeating the enemy as we speak. The name of Jesus is powerful. For He is the King of kings and Lord of lords.”

  Katherine put a hand to her chest. “It really is gone. I can breathe.” The shock overwhelmed her a bit. She’d never seen or heard her grandmother do anything like that before. But she’d also never felt as dark or oppressed either.

  “Do not doubt God, my child. And do not doubt His love for you, even though wicked men may tell you otherwise.” She tugged on Katherine’s hands. “Let’s get moving, we need to catch up with the tour and then later, when we are out in the beautiful sunlight once again, we’re going to have a long chat.”

  7

  MAY 1—THE CURRY HOTEL

  Now, I know we’ve been awful busy these past couple weeks and the doctor had you laid up for a week just to be sure everything was okay, but there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Mrs. Johnson wiped down the bread table with gusto and gave Cassidy the look that meant she was in for an interrogation.

  Cassidy smiled and finished scrubbing the other prep table. “I’m all ears.”

  Mrs. Johnson harrumphed. “Now, don’t you go sassing me, Cassidy Faith.”

  “Never.” Sarcasm oozed with each syllable.

  The older woman ignored her comment but gave her another telling look. One Cassidy had seen a lot over the past few years. “We’ve only got a little time lef
t alone while the others are at tea. And it’s too delicate a subject to broach in front of anyone else.”

  “Goodness, now you really do have my curiosity piqued.”

  Mrs. Johnson placed both hands on her hips and shook her head. “You better watch your tongue, missy, or I’ll have to demote you to washing dishes.”

  “You couldn’t make it without me, Mrs. Johnson, and you know it, so threaten all you like.” Cassidy continued to wipe down the other kitchen prep areas. “Besides, who else could you find to put up with your bossy ways?”

  The head chef gasped and then started chuckling. “I boss everyone around. And they have to take it because I’m the boss.”

  “Maybe I do it because I love you.”

  “Well, then, maybe I won’t demote you after all.”

  “All right, then.” Cassidy winked. “Didn’t you have a question you wanted to ask?”

  Mrs. Johnson tossed a rag at her assistant. “You are exasperating, you know that?”

  “Well, if that’s your question, I guess I would have to agree. Most people used to get aggravated because I was too happy. And I do recall someone accusing me of thinking that life was all gumdrops and rainbows. . . .”

  “Cassidy,” Mrs. Johnson groaned. “We’ve come a long way since then.”

  “Yes, ma’am. We have.” Cassidy went over and kissed the beloved woman’s cheek. Mrs. Johnson might seem prickly and harsh to everyone else, but to Cassidy Brennan, she was like a mother. The two had a bond forged by hard work and tragedy. They’d laughed together, cried together, and worked their fingers to the bone together.

  “Now, if you’ll let me finish.” Mrs. Johnson lowered her voice. “How on earth did you not know you were in a family way all this time? We talked about all of this before you married Allan.”

  Cassidy smiled at the blush that crept up the older woman’s neck. “I noticed my waist was getting firm and maybe a little thick, but I thought it was just from all that good food we cook around here. You’re always having me try one of your new creations.”

  “Well, now we know it wasn’t that. Honestly, now it makes me understand your moodiness.”

  “Moodiness? I haven’t been moody.” Cassidy frowned. “Have I?”

  “Well, let me see. A few months back you were sobbing like a baby over the northern lights.”

  “They were incredible and all I could think about was the glory of the Lord shining down.”

  “Then last month you yelled at poor Thomas because he hadn’t told you the piglets had been born. Then you cried and cried when he took you to see them.”

  “Well . . . they were . . . precious.” Cassidy shrugged. “All right, so I’ve been a bit . . . emotional.”

  “It’s typical of your condition. I was a sobbing mess for months.”

  Everything stopped. What had Mrs. Johnson just said? Cassidy tried to keep her voice low. “You . . . had a baby?”

  The cook nodded. “Two. A boy and a girl.” Sadness edged her voice. “I lost them with the others.”

  “When you said you’d lost all your family, I thought you just meant your husband, siblings, and parents. Oh, Mrs. Johnson, I never thought of you having babies. You never told me . . . in all these years.” Tears came to her eyes. “Here I go again.” Cassidy wiped her eyes with her apron. Now that she thought about it, she had been crying at the drop of a hat. “What were their names? How old were they?”

  Mrs. Johnson looked for a moment as if she wouldn’t answer. She picked up a dish towel and began drying a large glass bowl. “Jonathan was twelve and Deborah was fifteen.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Again the tears came. How terrible to lose a child. Cassidy had only just learned of her own baby, but the thought of losing it was more than she could bear.

  “Now, don’t be crying,” Mrs. Johnson commanded. Her gruff tone returned. “I already cried a lifetime of tears over these past seven—almost eight—years.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Cassidy couldn’t help herself. She came and wrapped her arms around the older woman’s shoulders. “I’ll bet you were a good mother.”

  “I was a bossy mother, as you can well guess.”

  Looking up, Cassidy smiled. “And you probably had the cleanest kitchen in the world.”

  “I did.” She patted Cassidy’s arm. “Now stop all this. I didn’t share it so you would feel sorry for me. I shared it because I wanted you to know that I am here for you to talk to. I can help you with any questions you have about . . . your condition. Usually a girl has her mother to talk to about such things, but since yours is gone, I thought I might offer.”

  This only caused Cassidy to hug her all the tighter. “Oh, you sweet woman.” The sound of voices coming down the stairs caused Cassidy to release her hold. She stepped away and picked up a couple of potholders. “I’d better check the pies.”

  Two of the kitchen maids burst into the room, laughing and whispering about something. One look at Mrs. Johnson quieted them, however. The girls hurried through the kitchen and disappeared.

  Cassidy closed the oven door. “I appreciate that you care enough to share all of that with me.”

  “Well, just so you know, I plan to keep a close eye on you.” Mrs. Johnson stabbed a finger in the air. “And I will brook no argument when it comes to this, all right, Mrs. Brennan?”

  “When it comes to what?”

  “Keeping your health and the baby’s as my utmost concern.”

  “Mrs. Johnson, please, the doctor says that—”

  “Pishposh, I know what he said, I was there. But he is not here with you every day. I am.”

  “Really, I appreciate it, I really do, but I think I can handle us going at our regular pace. I don’t see that anything needs to change. I feel fine.” So maybe the older woman was a bit overprotective of her. She could handle five more months of that, couldn’t she?

  “Like I said, I will not tolerate you arguing with me on this point. Besides, Allan and I agree. And we already have a plan.”

  “A plan? You and Allan have a plan?” Cassidy rarely got angry. But she felt the emotion burning in her gut now. So much for not being moody. “When, exactly, were you going to let me in on this plan?” And why was she so fired up about it?

  “As you needed to know.” Mrs. Johnson grabbed several loaves of bread and started slicing them.

  As she needed to know. As if she was a child incapable of taking care of herself. Why all of a sudden did everyone think they needed to tell her what to do? “I cannot believe this. My husband and my boss have conspired against me! They’ve made a plan without even talking to me.”

  “You forget, I know how you are. You think nothing of hoisting up fifty-pound bags of flour or running up the stairs two at a time. You need someone to keep you in line so you don’t hurt yourself. Mr. Brennan agrees with me.”

  For the first time since Cassidy could remember, pure rage flowed through her veins. Never mind that she might be overreacting. She threw that thought out as soon as it entered. Maybe she should’ve gotten angry ages ago. She untied her apron and slapped it down on the table. “I believe Mr. Brennan needs a good talking-to!”

  Cassidy stomped from the room, feeling quite satisfied that she’d shocked Mrs. Johnson speechless.

  Thomas joined Allan and John in the dining room after dinner. It was now or never. He had to tell the men the truth. It was only three years ago that he’d shaken the hand of the President of the United States. He’d had his picture taken with him, and the First Lady had commended him. He could definitely face the two men he respected most in the world. Couldn’t he?

  John’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled at Thomas. “Come on in. We’ve been waiting on you so we could discuss the schedules for tomorrow.” Cassidy’s father had taken Thomas under his wing when all the boy seemed capable of doing was invoking the wrath of Mrs. Johnson with his clumsy ways. But Thomas had grown out of that, and John taught him well about being a guide around these parts of Alaska.

&nbs
p; Allan was all smiles these days. But Thomas guessed that any man would be when his wife was expecting their first child.

  Oh, how he hated to wipe the smiles off their faces. He inhaled deeply. “There’s something I need to tell you both.”

  John leaned in and propped his elbows on the table. “Have a seat, son. It can’t be all that bad.”

  Allan simply relaxed back in his chair. “Thomas, you should know us by now. We won’t bite. We promise.”

  Thomas nodded and took the chair next to Allan. He had so much respect for these men. He never wanted to let them down. “I’ve made a mess out of something, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

  “Well, we can definitely help with that. We’re good at fixing things.” John reached over and patted him on the shoulder. “Go on.”

  “Um, well, that is to say . . .” He cleared his throat, but the knot lodged there wouldn’t move. “You know that Mr. Karstens asked for me to help for a few days up at the park headquarters?” The superintendent of the Mount McKinley National Park was a great man, but he didn’t think it at all amusing when Thomas apparently locked him in the storage room for several hours.

  Allan chuckled. “Let me stop you there, Thomas.” He picked up a piece of paper off the table and waved it. “Mr. Karstens telegrammed earlier.”

  Thomas stood up. “So you already knew that I messed everything up? Is that why you were laughing?”

  “We couldn’t help ourselves,” Allan admitted. “We were just imagining you locking poor Harry in the storage room.” He burst into laughter anew.

  “Allan Brennan!” Cassidy’s voice screeched across the room. Thomas had never heard her screech before. Nor had he ever seen her quite so red in the face. “How dare you laugh at Thomas! Don’t you pick on him.”

  Allan stood.

  Then John stood.

  Thomas looked between the two at their shocked faces and then back to Cassidy.

  She charged into the room in a way that spoke volumes. Someone was in big trouble. He just hoped it wasn’t him. He’d never seen Cassidy in such a state.