Faith stood Lucy on her chair so the heat from the stove would dry her nightgown. She offered Lucy another drink of warm milk before turning the child around so the back of her gown would dry.
Pete peeked out from his coverlet.
“You need to standup so your nightshirt will dry,” Faith said. “See Lucy is almost dry already.”
Pete clung to his coverlet and shook his head no. He hid his face trembling.
“Pete,” Faith whispered softly wondering if the boy’s problem was not the cold but fear. She rubbed one hand over his thin shoulders and felt him shaking beneath her touch. “It is alright to cry.”
“I want daddy,” Pete said. His voice was muffled by the coverlet.
“I know you do,” Faith replied. She rubbed one hand over Pete’s back. The boy shrugged off her hand. “You must dry your nightshirt,” Faith said firmly. “You don’t want to get sick. Lucy needs you to look after her.” Pete pushed the coverlet off his head and looked up at Faith. The sadness in his eyes broke Faith’s heart. She leaned down and kissed the top of Pete’s brown hair. “Let’s get you dry,” she said helping Pete to stand on the chair seat. His legs were skinny below the hem of his nightshirt. “Drink your milk,” Faith cajoled knowing the warm milk would help Pete to sleep. Morning was soon enough to face the problems ahead.
Pete lay on the parlor sofa with one arm protectively around his little sister and silently watched as Faith covered them with a warm crocheted coverlet.
“Go to sleep,” Faith whispered placing one hand over Pete’s head. She brushed locks of hair off his forehead and pulled the coverlet up over his shoulders. Lucy was sleeping peacefully beside him.
Sitting in a wing backed chair, Faith bowed her head and said a prayer of thanksgiving that Lucy’s and Pete’s lives were spared. That Royce had not been injured when he had rushed into the burning house to save children he had never met. Her heart swelled with the thought of Royce’s bravery. Yet, she felt chilled at the same time. Life was fragile as she had heard her mother say on many occasions.
Faith opened her eyes and saw her father standing over her. The room was flooded with light. The darkness was gone and another day had begun.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Reverend Gaines said in his vague way of speaking.
“I did not realize I had fallen asleep,” Faith replied sitting up and glancing to see if Pete and Lucy were still sleeping. “Has the fire caused much damage,” she asked, her mind going back to seeing pillars of flames shooting into the sky as one house after another caught fire.
“It started raining heavily around five o’clock,” Reverend Gaines answered. “Otherwise more homes would have burnt. As it is a dozen or so were destroyed and about another dozen were damaged. Thankfully the rest of the town was spared. God’s destructive forces,” he concluded.
Faith knew and understood her father’s meaning. Though she often wondered about a loving God using destruction to reveal himself to mortals. She accepted with a calm heart. God is in control. “Were there many injuries,” she asked.
“Mr. Runyan is at Doctor Thomas’ home. He still doesn’t remember what happened. Shock, Doctor calls it. The man is befuddled but should come around in a day or two. Poor Mrs. Runyan of course was the only fatality. The rest are minor burns and scraps. Still, Doctor Thomas has his hands full. Mary and Mrs. Dial are helping him care for the wounded. Mr. Runyan’s sister will be by later today to pick up the children. She will keep them until Mr. Runyan is able to take care of his children.”
Faith stood and stretched the kinks out of her stiff body. She knew at anytime now people would be showing up at the door with gifts of clothing and food. Father needed breakfast. Her mind went automatically over the things to do as she leaned over Lucy and touched the child’s hair. So young to be motherless, she thought giving a deep sigh before going into the kitchen.
“Hello,” Royce called from the backdoor.
Faith lifted the skillet off the stove before hurrying to open the door. She threw her arms around Royce’s neck and kissed him fervently. “As you can see I was worried,” she said looking into Royce’s green eyes. Men should not have such beautiful eyes. It was a waste.
“I love you,” Royce whispered against Faith’s lips. His heart stopped beating then stampeded. There, he had said the words. Amazed at how hard it had been. He had never before told a woman he loved her.
“I love you too,” Faith replied. “Singed hair, smelling of charred wood and all.”
Royce’s laugh was deep throated. “As bad as all that,” he asked. He took a deep breath and smelled bacon. “Breakfast,” he asked looking hopefully across the room at the skillet now resting on the counter top next to the stove.
“Come in,” Faith replied stepping back. “I do believe you came for breakfast and not to assure me you aren’t hurt,” she pouted up at Royce. “The washroom is over there. See if you can discover Mr. Hargadon the schoolteacher under all that grime,” she ordered.
“I do look a mess,” Royce conceded. “But still in one piece,” he added softly. He was bone weary and disheartened. During the long night hours the men of Junction City had battled fires only to loose one house after another. Fourth Street was in shambles. Houses along both Fifth Street and Third Street were damaged while others were miraculously spared.
Reverend Gaines was seated at the kitchen table when Royce returned. He could do nothing about the smell of
