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Authors: Lyn Cote

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“Yes. Come.” He took her to the pew where Linc slept.

Jessie dropped to her knees, pressing her prayer-folded hands to her lips. “My son.” With an angel touch, she examined his face, shoulders, arms, hands, chest, abdomen, and legs. She looked up, concern in her expression.

Lee dropped to one knee beside her. “He's bruised up and very tired. He said there was a stampede on one of the bridges when it caught fire.”

Jessie moaned and laid her head on her son's chest. “It's all my fault—”

“No, I was the one who lied and caused Linc to run away—”

“But if I hadn't—”

Lee lifted her to her feet. “None of us could have predicted this fire.” Again he had to hold her, had to know that she was really with him.

“Dr. Smith?” One of the other physicians cleared his throat. “The kitchen is just about out of food again. You haven't eaten since lunch and we insist you go to supper
now
.”

Lee was touched by the genuine concern in the other doctor's voice. “Thank you. Dr. Cooledge, this is my very dear friend, Mrs. Wagstaff. The boy is her son, Lincoln.”

The doctor greeted Jessie, then urged her to go with Lee.

“I don't want to leave Linc.” Jessie hung back. “What if he awakes and I'm not here?”

“I gave him a sedative. He won't wake until morning,” Lee assured her. “Besides, Butch is here to keep watch, aren't you, Butch?”

The little dog sat up and looked at Lee with serious eyes.

“See? Linc's safe. Jess, come on.”

Outside, the day's light had waned to a faint glow over the bleak, burned-over horizon. “I can't believe what I'm seeing,” Jessie murmured.

“It's still a miracle the fires are finally out. I have never experienced such wind in my life.”

“It was horrible.” Jessie's voice broke on the last word and she began to tremble.

Lee put his arm around her shoulders and drew her to a chair and table beneath a canvas canopy. Soon he returned with two tin cups of soup and hunks of warm, fresh bread. He sat down beside her.

“The thought of food makes me sick. I haven't been able to eat anything.” She clenched her hands in her lap.

“What is troubling you? Are Susan, Ruby—”

“They're all safe, but not thanks to me. We should have left the house long before we did. I couldn't believe the fire would reach us.” She bowed her head.

“You weren't the only one who thought that.” He lifted her chin with his hand.

“But it could have cost us all our lives. Susan, Ruby, Miss Wright were depending on
me.
God sent warning after warning, but I wouldn't listen. I was going to save my house no matter what.”

“Jess, how could you know how devastating this fire would be? We're only human. We don't, can't know everything. We're not God.”

“You
speaking of God?” She touched his hand.

He took her hand in both of his. “Yes, this fire burned away a lot of foolish guilt and pride from me, too. Now God's brought you safely here—you and Linc.” He drew her hand to his lips and kissed it.

They sat a long time, knee to knee, hand in hand. Finally Lee came to his senses. “I insist you eat some of this before it's stone cold.” He pushed the tin cup toward her and lifted his own. “You must eat,” he coaxed.

“I can't. Not until I find my mother.”

“You became separated from her?”

Jessie nodded, fresh tears beginning to fall. “She went to town to look for Linc. She thought he might try to find you at the Workman's Rest.”

“Where have you looked?”

“Everywhere. Yesterday we were finally able to leave the beach. We had been marooned on a sandbar for hours—all through that
damp night. Miss Wright and Ruby are suffering dreadful pain in their joints from it. When we left the beach, I found shelter for Susan, Ruby, and Miss Wright at a Lutheran church. I spent all today searching.” She passed her hand over her forehead.

“Your stepfather was here, looking for her, too. I had forgotten…Seeing you pushed every other thought out of my mind.”

“That man.”
Jessie's voice surged with anger. “Their neighborhood wasn't touched. If
that man
hadn't driven her away, Mother would have been safely at home! If anything has happened to Mother, I'll…I'll,” Jessie's voice broke.

“Dr. Gooden was here, too. He's working with the mayor to keep cholera from breaking out in these conditions.”

“I'm glad. But where's Mother?”

Lee moved so Jessie's cheek rested on his shoulder. Knowing he could do nothing to ease her heartbreak shook him. Minutes passed. Jessie finally was able to eat. “How about one more cup of coffee?” Lee suggested. “Then you can sit the rest of the night beside your son.”

Jessie accepted coffee from the volunteer. Looking over Lee's shoulder, Jessie saw her stepfather. Rage shot through her like the thrust of a hot poker. The cup of coffee dropped from her hands. “You!”

Before she could say more, Hiram rushed forward and—for the first time in her life—wrapped his arms around her. Shock froze her.

“Jessie.” Shaking with emotion, Hiram tried to catch his breath.

Sudden dread gripped Jessie. “Mother. It's Mother, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Hiram gasped. Releasing Jessie, he gripped the back of a chair.

“Tell me.” Jessie heard the shrillness in her plea. Hiram continued to struggle for words; she fought the urge to shake them out of him.

“The captain of the Coventry Company,” Hiram said, “caught up with me at my station.” He gasped again, drawing another ragged breath. “He saw Esther. He's sure it was Esther—”

“What happened? Is she at another hospital?” Jessie's control began slipping. “Where is she?”

“We've lost her. Dear God, she's gone.” He began to weep in strangling gasps.

“No!” Jessie shook him by one of his shoulders.

“She was helping a family get out of their burning house. She went back in. Coventry Company tried to stop her.” He struggled for breath. “The roof collapsed. She never made it out.” Dry rasping sobs wrenched his body.

Jessie swayed. “No, you're lying. You're lying!” Voices buzzed in her ear. Lee gripped her, holding her up.

Hiram moaned. “If I hadn't argued with her, she would have been home safe with the twins.”

Jessie wrenched herself from Lee. Her hands clenched and unclenched. She wanted to beat her stepfather, see him bleeding and broken on the floor in front of her. She wanted to hear him scream with anguish.

Hiram dropped to his knees in front of Jessie. “Dear God, forgive me. Jessie, forgive me.”

Jessie half turned away from him, seeing his abject sorrow but unwilling to let it sway her.

Huff in his painful raspy voice went on, “I've sinned against God and man. Esther, Esther, I'm sorry. I always had to have my own way in everything. Forgive me.” He buried his face in his hands.

Jessie took a step back from him.

“She said I'd never loved her. Oh, God, it's true. I loved only myself. Forgive me, Jessie.”

His words made her sick. She wanted to leave him here in his misery. But the honest grief in his voice forced her to turn back to him. Pity for him reared up inside her. Fighting it, she brought to mind all the times he had forced himself between her mother and her. Then she pictured the day he had marched her to Margaret Wagstaff's back door and coldly left her there alone.

Margaret.
She saw Margaret's sweet face. Margaret had taught her to love no matter what, no matter who. Then she recalled Rev
erend Mitchell's dying words, “Forgive. You'll never be free until you forgive.” He had said the words to Caleb, but she had needed to hear them, too.

She hated her stepfather.
I can't forgive him. I don't want to.

She heard Margaret's soft voice, “Forgive, Jessie, forgive.” As if Will and Margaret stood one on each side of her, she felt bathed in their love for her; her love for them. Will and Margaret loved her and God. God didn't hate. He forgave.

Jessie closed her eyes. She heard people moving around them, speaking in quiet, troubled voices, near but apart. She tried to harden her heart against all Will and Margaret had taught her of love. She couldn't. She opened her eyes.

Feeling older than her years, she took Hiram's hands in hers. She tugged him to his feet.
This is because of you, Margaret, you, Reverend Mitchell, and you, Mother.
“I forgive you.” Her voice was dead.

“Jessie, I don't deserve your forgiveness.”

Jessie tried to say something comforting, but she felt numb, unable to respond. She felt alone, totally alone.

Her stepfather wept into his hands. “What will we do without your mother?”

Jessie averted her eyes. She mumbled, “We'll manage somehow.”

She felt like a wounded animal. She wanted this man, whom she still hated to take his grief away. She wanted to mourn alone. How could God have let this hateful man live and let her beautiful mother die? Waves of anger tried to swell inside her.
I forgave him, Margaret. I'll do what I can.
She looked to Lee. Tears dripped from his eyes. But Jessie felt dry, flat, alone.

Then it came…

Soothing warmth poured through Jessie. Over the jagged shards of her shattered heart flowed a healing balm. Love, more wonderful than she thought possible, more healing than she could have imagined. Its intensity gripped her.

Strength…peace…joy…lifted her spirit—summer breezes fluttering through her cold heart. Love, God's unbelievable love for
her became love for this man. It bubbled up within her, overflowing; its force stunned her.

“I forgive you,” Jessie whispered and purifying tears washed her cheeks.

Lee saw Jessie's face softened, her embrace of Hiram lost its wooden quality. Reaching out, Lee laid his hand on her shoulder. The smile she gave him was the most beautiful he'd ever received, reminding him of a Renaissance Madonna, smiling down at the babe Jesus. Fleetingly he recalled the touch of his own mother's hand, the mother he'd lost when he was near Linc's age. “Jess,” he whispered, his tears falling, too.

She stepped closer to Lee, releasing Hiram. The three of them stood like statues. Only their labored breathing and flowing tears betrayed them as human. They silently absorbed the impact of what had just taken place.

She'd learned of the miracle of grace, but she'd never experienced it so real before. Her tears washed away the last traces of the numbness that had gripped her. Her heart lived again. In the faces of Lee and her stepfather, she saw what she felt reflected back to her.

Finally Jessie spoke, “We have to take care of the twins. They'll need us the most, Hiram.”

Wiping away his tears with his hands, her stepfather embraced her fiercely, then stepped back. “You're right. They need us. You must come and live with us until you can rebuild.”

“I'll come to help you, but I have to stay with Miss Wright, Susan, and Ruby—”

“I have room for them, too. Bring them with you.”

Gazing at Lee, Jessie saw her own surprise mirrored in Lee's face. “Even Susan and Ruby? Do you mean that?”

“Yes, I've been a fool. All I sense now is that they need me and I need them. I can't explain it. I feel…changed. I'm not the same.”

“I feel it, too.” Jessie drew nearer Lee.

“I have to go break the news to the twins.” Hiram spoke briskly, his usual take-charge manner returning. “The three of us will get
ready for all of you. You, too, Smith, I mean, Dr. Smith.” He shook hands with Lee, kissed Jessie once more, then hurried away.

Jessie and Lee stood, faced each other, then Lee said, “I can't believe what I just witnessed.”

“I can hardly believe it myself. I can't explain it, but all my anger toward him left me—completely.”

“This is a day of miracles.”

Nearby only a few tired volunteers clustered at the back, drinking coffee and talking quietly. On the night breeze, the scorched stench from the burned-over land came to Lee.

“Jess, what about me? Has your anger toward me left you?”

“Yes, oh, yes.” She stepped eagerly into his open arms.

“I can hardly remember the man I was that April morning when I walked up your back steps.”

Jessie rested her head on his shoulder.

The powerful joy on her face almost made him weak at the knees.
I don't deserve her, Lord
. Lee murmured, “I'll try to be worthy of you, Jess.”

“Don't talk about being worthy of me. Tell me what's in your heart.”

“I love you, Jessie. You'll be my wife?”

“Yes.” Jessie stroked his cheek. “Yes. God's given us time and love, gifts too precious to waste.”

 

January 20, 1893

Papa's shouting woke Cecy. She sat up in her bed. In the blackness, she clutched her favorite dolly. Would he come to her room and break things?

Mama's high voice climbed higher while Papa kept shouting. The loud voices fought back and forth. They might rush into her room. They might shout at her and break her china dolly's head. Cecy felt tears wet her cheeks. They might break her.

The door opened. Soft light glowed into the darkness. It was Nana.

“Nana!” Cecy cried out. She held up her hands.

“Hush, hush, sweetheart.” Gently, Nana lifted her. “It's all right. I'm here. Don't cry.”

“I'm scared,” Cecy whimpered. Warm, soft arms closed around her. She heard Nana's soft words, but she couldn't stop shaking.

Nana carried her to the rocking chair, snuggling her close. The old chair began to move back and forth. Creak. Creak. She rested her head on soft Nana. Nana smelled sweet, like the powder Nana patted on Cecy after her baths.

From below, the voices shouted and cried, but Nana hugged her. Nana wouldn't let them break dolly or her.

Then Nana said the good words, the words that always let Cecy breathe easier. She closed her eyes to sleep. Nana whispered in her ear, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to
lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul…”

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