Out of the Ashes

by Tracie Peterson

  Their little town of Curry was growing.

  Mr. Langelier walked toward him from the hotel and waved a hand. “Thomas, I was just looking for you.”

  The man’s accent was fascinating. “Yes, sir. How can I help?”

  “Actually, I was looking to see if I could hire you.”

  “Oh, I’ve got a job that I love, sir.”

  “Oui. Yes. I understand that—but I’m asking for your help in exchange for an extra bit of pocket money. As I hear it, you will soon be heading back to school. I thought perhaps a little extra money would help.”

  Between assisting in the kitchen since Cassidy was laid up and his regular job with John and Allan, he wasn’t sure he had much time to spare. But then again, a little extra money would be nice. “I would love to help you, but how much time will you need me?”

  “Only about fifteen minutes a day. Would that be acceptable?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sure I could fit that into my schedule, except when we’re out on an overnight expedition. What do you need help with?”

  The man looked around and then leaned on his cane with both hands. “It’s a bit embarrassing, but I have been doing rehabilitative exercises to strengthen my leg that . . . well, it lost a lot of blood when I was shot in battle—”

  “You were in battle? I didn’t know that, Mr. Langelier.” Thomas covered his mouth for a moment. He wasn’t a boy anymore, he should behave like it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Mr. Langelier waved a hand. “It’s all right, Thomas. Truly it is. As I was saying, I’ve gotten to a point where the exercises get harder and I need assistance. Most of it, I just need someone to be a source of resistance. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes, sir. I can do that.”

  “Spectaculaire! Would you be willing to begin helping me this evening?”

  “Yes, sir. I could come speak to you after dinner.”

  “Merci. Thank you.” Mr. Langelier straightened and looked at all the new buildings. “If you could keep this private as well, I would much appreciate it.” He held out a hand.

  Thomas shook it and nodded.

  “Now, if you would be so kind. I’d love to hear all about the National Park and her great mountain. I hear you know a lot about it.”

  Reaching into his pocket, Thomas smiled and grabbed one of the new brochures. The National Park was one of his favorite subjects. “Take a look at this grand brochure Mr. Karstens put together. He’s the park superintendent and one of the men from the first group to ever summit Denali—well, Mt. McKinley—the tallest mountain in North America. He’s a sight to behold for sure.”

  Jean-Michel frowned. “Mr. Karstens?”

  Thomas was momentarily confused, then realized what he was asking. “No, the mountain is a sight to behold. If you notice, our train here can take you right up to the entrance of the park where Mr. Karstens has been building the roads into the area. But I agree with Mrs. Brennan—the best view of Denali is from our very own ridge across the river.” He pointed toward Curry Ridge.

  “How long of a hike is that?”

  “Oh, a few miles. We call it the Meadow Lake Trail. It’s not too bad though. Cassidy—Mrs. Brennan—and the whole wedding party went up there for their ceremony a couple years ago. It was quite a beautiful day.”

  “I think I’d like to try that sometime soon—the hike, that is. Will you be taking any groups there?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll let you know the next time we schedule the hike.”

  Mr. Langelier turned back toward the hotel. “I’ve heard a lot about this Mr. Karstens at the dinner tables each evening. He sounds like he has tamed the area single-handed as you say, non?”

  “Well, he has done a lot all by himself, that’s for sure.” Thomas showed him another part of the brochure. “He was the only one for quite a while—he was the first superintendent ever. He’s been in charge of the whole place all by himself. Did you know he started the road here with money from the very first official tourist?”

  “That’s very interesting. Roads cost a lot of money to build.”

  “From what I heard, the man gave a whopping seven hundred dollars to get it started.”

  “Indeed. That’s very generous.”

  Thomas watched the man’s face. While seven hundred dollars was an amount an orphan like Thomas might never see in his lifetime, this French man didn’t seem fazed by the number. Mr. Langelier had money—Thomas knew that—but since he’d never really had any money of his own, it was fascinating to see how the wealthy perceived such things.

  “I look forward to seeing this park of yours.”

  “We take a few trips there each summer, so I can let Mr. Ivanoff know that you’d like to go. The Savage River Camp is remote, about twelve miles from the train, but if you really want to see the mountain in all his glory, you have to trek quite a bit farther west. Mr. Karstens has trails in, but they are still building the road.”

  Mr. Langelier nodded. “That sounds like quite an adventure. Do people actually climb this mountain?”

  Thomas chuckled. “They try, but John . . . Mr. Ivanoff says the mountain is very particular about who he will allow to actually do it. Very few have ever made it all the way to the top.”

  “Because of the difficulty, oui?”

  “Yes. Mr. Ivanoff says a man has to have a spirit to match that of the mountain and few do.”

  “A spirit to match the mountain,” Jean-Michel murmured.

  “Exactly. Mr. Ivanoff says the key to overcoming any challenge is to have a spirit that can stand up to it—a spirit that can match the challenge.”

  The train whistle blew and jolted Thomas back into action. “I apologize, sir, but I’ve got to get back to work. I came out to see them set the last cottage and lost track of time. But I will see you after dinner tonight.”

  “Merci. Thank you, Thomas.”

  Running back to the hotel, Thomas was grateful for his long legs. A few years back, when he first started at the Curry, they had been a nuisance, making him trip and fall as he grew. But now, he could cover a good bit of ground at a quick pace.

  After the train left the hotel depot, he straightened his jacket and walked into the lobby.

  “Thomas!” Mr. Bradley waved him over to the front desk.

  He approached and steadied his breathing after his run. “Yes, sir?”

  “If you’re not busy helping John or Allan, I believe Mrs. Johnson could use your help.”

  “To keep her from killing Chef Ferguson?” Thomas hadn’t meant to say the words aloud and quickly put his hand to his mouth.

  Mr. Bradley chuckled. “I can’t say the thought hasn’t come to me as well.”

  “Sorry.” Thomas lowered his hand. “It’s just that . . . well . . . things haven’t been very easy between them.”

  “I’m fully aware. Mrs. Johnson comes to me at least twenty times a day to complain about one thing or another.” Mr. Bradley glanced past Thomas to the bevy of people waiting to be served at the registration desk. “I see I’m needed.” He started across the lobby, then turned back. “Just do what you can to keep the peace.”

  Thomas nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Mr. Bradley!” Sally, a young maid, approached, a bit of terror on her face.

  At least Thomas wasn’t the only one heading into battle. He imagined other young men had felt the same as he did now—except they were headed off to a real battlefield. Although an argument could be made for the war between Mr. Ferguson and Mrs. Johnson being almost as scary. In both scenarios, the future was unknown, there were certain to be difficulties . . . and probably a little bloodshed. Maybe a lot of bloodshed if Mr. Ferguson didn’t stay out of Mrs. Johnson’s way.

  “Thomas!” The manager’s voice cut through his thoughts and made Thomas turn back around.

  “Sir?”

  Mr. Bradley waved him closer, leaned over the counter, and spoke in a low tone. “I’m afraid we have a delicate situation.”

  “Sir?�
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  “One of the guests that who came in on the train is missing. According to the niece, he gets lost often. He’s not an old man, though—just a little older than Mr. Brennan—but she said he’s got some gray hair at his temples. His name is Mr. Moreau. The rest of his family isn’t due here for a few weeks, and the young lady, his niece, is quite distraught. She said he might get worked up if we don’t find him soon.”

  Thomas raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I understand, sir.”

  “Something is wrong with the man, but the niece won’t say anything else. She’s out searching for him.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “Be as discreet as you can, but search the hotel and then the rest of the buildings. We will have to discuss the man’s illness with the niece at a later time. For now, we best find him. And quick. The niece was unpacking when she realized he’d left the room without her, so he could be anywhere.”

  “I’ll find him.” Thomas lifted his shoulders and took a deep breath. He knew every nook and cranny of this hotel. With a nod to his boss, he took off down the stairs to the basement. He’d start at the bottom and work his way up.

  When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he headed to the large laundry room that serviced the hotel and the trains and hospitals from the surrounding areas. Several of the workers lifted a hand and waved, but as Thomas looked around and under tables, their missing guest didn’t appear to be there. “Have you seen anyone in here who isn’t an employee?” He had to raise his voice to be heard over all the machinery.

  Several nos and shakes of the head were all the response, so Thomas headed to the section gang bunkhouse at the back, but there wasn’t anyone there.

  A few men played cards at a table in the main area outside the bunkroom, and a few of the train workers sat at the men’s bar. But Thomas recognized all of them.

  He’d just have to search the provisions rooms next.

  The hallway to the provisions rooms was quiet, but Thomas decided to check each room thoroughly. The first room was empty of people.

  The second room was not.

  In the corner, a thin man ran a hand along the wall. He obviously hadn’t heard Thomas enter because he didn’t turn. Just mumbled, “There must be a secret passageway here somewhere. The general said—”

  This must be their guest. Thomas cleared his throat. “We don’t have any secret passageways here at the Curry, Mr. Moreau.”

  The man turned, fear etched into his features.

  “Let me help you back to your room. Can I help with anything else, sir?”

  The man straightened and his face became a mask. Serene and gentle as if nothing else had transpired. “Yes, thank you. I’d like to make sure my niece is doing well.”

  Thomas held out an arm toward the door. Why would this man think there was a secret passageway here? And who in the world was the general?

  JULY 17

  Katherine stepped off the train at the Curry and reached up to help her grandmother down the steps. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much improved, thank you. Just in need of a nap.”

  “Well, I can make sure that happens as soon as you’ve had a good lunch.” She held up her hand. “Please don’t argue with me. I insist.”

  “Bossy girl.” Grandmother reached up and patted Katherine’s raised hand. “But that sounds delightful. I do need to see to one other matter first, so if you don’t mind getting our bags up to the rooms, come back to get me in about ten minutes.”

  “Are you sure it’s not something I can handle for you?”

  “No. I’ll take care of it. It will give me a few minutes to stretch my legs as well. I assure you . . . I’m just fine.”

  “All right then, I’ll be right back.” Katherine turned and nodded to the boy on the platform, and he came forward to take her bags. “Would you assist me upstairs, please, young man?”

  “Yes, miss.” The young lad appeared to be all arms and legs.

  Katherine didn’t correct his mistake. It was nice to be called “miss” again. Made her feel young and took her back to days that were happier. She’d hashed out a lot with Grandmother on their trip north. The woman’s words had been full of wisdom, but she also pointed Katherine to Scripture. Even though some of the conversation had been hard to hear, it had been beneficial. “Like roses,” Grandmother said, “we all need a little pruning.”

  What needed pruning in Katherine’s life was a portion of her past. Words that she had believed because they’d been forced into her mind. Darkness that threatened to press in every time she allowed the memories to replay.

  One crucial question her beloved grandparent wanted her to ponder was if Katherine truly believed the lies Randall had told her. As she walked up the stairs to their rooms, she mulled it over again. Did she? As Grandmother pointed out, Randall had been a ruthless liar who manipulated everyone for his own benefit. Why should Katherine ever believe a word he had said? She’d honestly never considered it that way.

  If she were truly a new creation now, she had to throw off the old.

  With new determination, Katherine opened the door to her room and made herself a promise. She would no longer allow anything her husband had said to be believed as truth.

  None of it.

  It was over.

  She had a relationship with her Savior now. The darkness had no power over her.

  This was a new life. And she would take it.

  She paid the boy a coin and closed the door to head back down the stairs. Just like everything, she would have to take one step at a time. One day at a time. Bad times would no doubt come, but she had to remain strong. Please God, make me strong.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she heard her grandmother’s voice. She looked to her left and saw Grandmother in one of the lovely leather chairs in front of the fireplace, talking to someone.

  His back was to Katherine, but she knew who it was.

  Jean-Michel.

  Her heart skipped a beat as she walked over to them and took a deep breath. “Jean-Michel, it’s so good to see you again.”

  He turned and those green eyes of his latched on to her heart. She thought she was incapable of love anymore, but with him in front of her, all the old feelings—the good feelings—came surging back.

  “Katherine.”

  Just hearing him say her name made her legs feel a bit like jelly. This was much harder than she’d imagined. “I’d still like to take that walk if you’d like to reschedule.”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  Grandmother stood with the help of her cane and Jean-Michel. “Why don’t we all have lunch together first, and then Katherine can get me upstairs for a time of rest? This afternoon should be lovely for a walk in the garden.”

  Katherine nodded, noting the weariness in the elder woman’s face. “That is a wonderful idea.” She was relieved that the older woman wanted to eat.

  Jean-Michel held his arm out for Grandmother. “Shall we?”

  The two canes tapped in rhythm along the foyer floor. Katherine put a hand to her churning stomach and watched them as they walked ahead of her. Lord, give me wisdom. And strength.

  Voices in conversation drifted over her along with the smells of a delicious luncheon. Katherine’s mouth watered. This was comfortable and normal. She could do this. Plenty of people around, good food, and a man she was once madly in love with.

  Jean-Michel held out a chair for her grandmother and seated her, then came around for Katherine. “I do believe I smell the chef’s signature rolls. I think I’ve eaten several dozen since we arrived.” His smile and casual words broke down the stiff walls around her.

  Lunch passed in a blur of chitchat and wonderful food. Several times, she’d even laughed aloud and Grandmother smiled with joy. But the older woman faded fast, so Katherine excused herself for a few moments to take her grandmother upstairs. Jean-Michel told her he would meet her by the fireplace.

  She made it through lunch and felt relaxed. Sh
e could make it through their walk together too. There was a day long ago when she’d looked forward to walks with Jean-Michel as if they were the grandest event on earth.

  “Promise me you’ll be honest with him, my dear.” Grandmother took the steps at a slow pace.

  “I promise.” But that didn’t mean that she had to tell him everything, right? At least not yet.

  “I’ll be praying.” She put her wrinkled hand to her mouth and yawned. “And don’t forget to come back to get me for dinner. I understand they are serving fresh salmon this evening. I do believe it’s become one of my favorites. Of course, the duck confit and white bean puree they served a few weeks ago is also a favorite, and then we mustn’t forget those glorious desserts.”

  Katherine smiled, a little chuckle escaping. “Oh, Grandmother, I won’t forget you.”

  “I’m quite serious, my girl, so don’t you laugh at me.” Grandmother winked. “You might get so caught up with your young man that you forget all about little ol’ me up here.”

  “That could never happen.” Katherine looked at her grandmother with sincere admiration. “You mean far too much to me. You’ve helped me find my way back to the living.”

  The old woman smiled. “I only did what God told me to do. He’s the one who gives us life, and He’s the only one who can sustain it.”

  After settling her grandmother in, Katherine made her way back downstairs. Grandmother’s words echoed in her head. Why had she never heard such things as a child? Why were her parents not at all concerned with matters of faith?

  Jean-Michel stood at the fireplace with his hand on the mantel. “You came back.”

  His words made her blush. She didn’t know if he was referring to just now or her sudden disappearance from the hotel weeks ago. “Yes. I’m very sorry for leaving the way I did last month.”