A Simple Charity (39 page)

“I’m hoping you’ll be as gracious as Jack says you are. That you’ll back off. Give us time to heal our relationship.”

“You know what? I’m going to talk to Jack about this, and I’m sure we’ll work it all out.” Meg crossed her arms over the smooth bodice of her gown and stepped between Lisa and the other women in the room. “But right now, I think you should go.”

“You’re right. Jack’s waiting for me.” Lisa went to the door, then turned back to eye Meg. “That’s quite a dress you’re wearing.”

Aware that she was being mocked, Meg simply nodded, her mouth a grim line as she followed Lisa out into the hall. She watched Lisa exit, and then bolted the big front door behind her.

“What was that about?” Shandell asked from the hallway.

Meg held up her hands. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

She grabbed her cell phone from the sitting room, but of course, Jack didn’t answer. “He’s at work. Murphy’s Law.” She shot him a series of texts.

“You know,” she said as she was texting, “after he stops apologizing, Jack’s going to find this whole incident rather amusing.”

“Ya think?” Zoey asked.

“Yeah, one day we’ll probably laugh about it.”

“But right now … not so funny.”

“So … do you want to finish with the dress fitting?” Shandell asked.

Meg held out her arms. “Absolutely.”

An hour later, Shandell had fitted the sleeves and pinned up the hem. Then she headed over to her mother’s apartment for their Sunday visit.

Having changed back into her jeans and a sweater, Meg collapsed on the couch beside Zoey and checked her cell phone. No messages, and the ringer was working. “Where are you, Jack?”

“I have to say, you took that very well today. If Tate’s ex had stormed in like that, I don’t know what I would have done. But I’d have been mighty tempted to throw something. Like pie. A dirty diaper. A candelabra. Anything handy.”

“Zoey, the woman is not well.”

“I know, but she’s a button pusher. Just saying.”

“Honestly? I’m a little sick inside. Maybe it was wrong to rush into this with Jack. We haven’t even known each other a year.”

“Oh, no, no. Don’t let her do that to you,” Zoey insisted. “Don’t let her shake your faith in Jack. You know I’ve been a little wary of your rush to the altar, but that one has changed my mind. I know you and Jack are a forever couple.”

“Unless Lisa has her way.”

“Lisa, schmisa. I know you’re upset, but just give Jack a chance to explain things. There are two sides to every story.”

As Meg went out to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, she thought of calling Kat. Jack’s sister was probably well versed on the Lisa story. But that seemed petty, calling her fiancé’s sister for relationship advice.

Leaning on the kitchen counter, Meg broke down and called the police dispatcher. Trying to keep it casual, she told Cindy that she
was trying to get in touch with Jack. “Would you have him call me?”

“Jack took the day off,” Cindy said. “He said he had a family emergency.”

Meg felt the bottom drop out from her safe world.

“Is everything okay?” Cindy asked.

“Sure. Fine,” Meg said, thanking the woman.

Ignoring the hollow feeling inside, Meg sat down on the sofa beside her sister, who was napping in front of the television, the baby monitor blinking on the end table beside her. An old Christmas movie about a homeless man who moved in to an empty Fifth Avenue mansion was on, and for a few minutes Meg managed to lose herself in the heartwarming story. When the cops came into the mansion, she thought of Jack in uniform, and she remembered the day they had spent working on the holiday food drive. He was a good man, Jack Woods. A helper, not a cheater.

She was settling into the cushions with her feet on the sofa when a big boom rocked the house. From the rattling window glass and the vibration of the furniture, Meg thought of an earthquake at first.

“What was that?” Zoey shot up, instantly awake. “Where’s Grace?” She grabbed the monitor, but found that the baby was silent.

Meg was already at the window. “I think it was an explosion.”

“Did you hear that?” Tate called, appearing at the door. “I think it came from down the lane.”

Zoey trudged toward her husband. “I’m going to check the baby.”

“I just did. She’s fine. I’m going to head outside and check it out.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Meg and Tate threw on coats and boots and trudged down the lane toward a rising plume of black smoke.

“It looks like it might be coming from Fanny’s house,” Meg said, her words puffs of mist in the cooling air.

“Maybe it’s just burning leaves or a bonfire out of control,” Tate said. “It happens sometimes.”

But as they rounded the house next to the Lapps’ and the dense black cloud came into view, Meg began to run. It was the old carriage house that had caught fire, their little clinic that had already welcomed a handful of babies into the world. Orange flames danced in the upstairs windows, wicking into charred black smoke that engulfed the roof. She ran past a handful of bystanders, rushed up as close as she could get before the wall of heat made her skid to a stop. This couldn’t be happening!

“I reached the fire department,” Tate called to her. “Two trucks are on their way.”

He tried to tug Meg back, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the hungry orange flames and billowing smoke. Their beloved center was burning.

34

A
lthough most folks had finished eating, the tables in the Lapp barn were still occupied and every corner was filled with groups of men or women gathered to chat and share a story or two. Over at the dessert table, Fanny rested Tommy on one hip as she surveyed the sweets. She and Elsie were about to share one of the last gmay cookies when Fanny noticed some folks at the door pointing her way.

An English woman stood there, framed by the light of the doorway.

“Is that Meg?” Fanny asked, handing Elsie the entire cookie.

As Elsie turned toward the door, Meg strode toward them. Her red hair swung wildly over her shoulders and her mouth was a grim slash. Why was Meg here, looking so frazzled? Even in the most complicated deliveries, Meg managed to remain cool as a cucumber.

“Something’s gone wrong,” Fanny said aloud as Meg reached them.

“It’s the birthing center.” Meg clutched Fanny’s arm. “There’s been an explosion, and the building caught fire.”

Stung by alarm, Fanny fought the sick feeling in her belly. “Oh, Meg, no!”

Elsie’s hand flew to cover her mouth, as folks around them surged closer.

“We’ll all go,” said a man’s voice. “Kumm. Let’s hitch up the buggies.”

“I’ll give you a ride, Fanny,” Meg offered. “It’ll be faster.”

Fanny handed Tommy to Elsie and hurried out with Meg, grabbing Caleb on the way. He took the front seat beside Meg while Fanny settled in a fog in the back. Cold fear clutched at her, making her shiver. The clinic was empty, thank the good Lord!

“Your neighbor Marta told me you’d be at the orchard.” Meg kept her eyes ahead as the car seemed to fly down the roadway. Snow mounds and farms and fences whizzed past them.

“Was anyone hurt?” Fanny asked.

“No. It’s a blessing that none of our mothers were in labor. And Marta’s son was able to look inside before the heat and smoke were too bad. He said it was all clear.”

“That’s very good news,” Caleb said.

“Ya,” Fanny said with a confidence she didn’t feel. “If no one was hurt, then it’s only wood and nails. Nothing that can’t be replaced.”

“We’ll try to stop the fire before it does too much damage,” Caleb said, turning to Fanny. “We might be able to save your center.”

“And the fire department might be there already,” added Meg. “Tate called them as soon as we saw the fire.”

The sight that greeted them at the end of the lane stole Fanny’s breath away. The old building seemed to have a different life now, with eyes of flame in the upstairs windows and a toothy look below
where the fire had sprung through, burning the three solid carriage house doors.

Any hope of saving the building drained away the moment Fanny saw it engulfed in flames and black smoke. Even the steady stream of water from the fire truck seemed powerless against the hungry fire.

Somehow, the fire chief found them in the commotion of assembling folk. The tall man wearing the bright green coat and black helmet introduced himself as George Katcher, the fire chief. His voice was gruff, but his eyes were kind as he confirmed Fanny’s fears. “When more than a quarter of the roof is in flames, we know we can’t save the structure.” He paused to turn back to the ball of fire and smoke behind them, then faced them with a frown. “I’m sorry. We’ve already hosed down the roof of your house and the nearby trees to prevent the fire from spreading. We’ll stay on the site until the fire is out.”

As Caleb thanked the man, Fanny stared at the orange glow and wondered how so many hopes and dreams could slip away just like that.

Rose Miller tapped her shoulder and gave her a hug. “I’m taking Tommy and Beth to our house. We’ll keep them the night, give you two less little ones to worry about.”

“Denki.” Only after Rose left did Fanny realize that her cheeks were streaked with tears and soot. She swiped them away with her sleeve and focused on the friends and neighbors organizing into lines. The fire chief didn’t think it would help, but at least it was worth a try.

As she went down the line, she passed so many familiar faces: Tate Jordan and Marta Kraybill. Bishop Samuel and his wife, Lois. Adam King, Jimmy Lapp, Gabe King, Ira Miller, and Zed. Her heart ached at the thought of all Zed’s work burning to cinders, but Zed
had no time for self-pity. He stood in line closest to the fire, tossing water and stepping back to dodge the heat.

Fanny took her place between Emma and Meg in one of the bucket lines. A line of men passed water from the house spigot to the burning building. Fanny was in the second line of women and children. They passed empty buckets back to the water source. The bucket brigade was slow and tedious, but it was better than standing back and doing nothing.

When the structure began to creak and sway, everyone had to move back. The fire truck pulled closer, allowing metal poles to push the debris inside the building’s footprint. With a sad groan, the walls collapsed, leaving only the sad arched frame of the old carriage house doors.

Steeling herself, Fanny bit her lower lip and stepped out of the bucket line. The firefighters thanked everyone and sent them on their way home.

It was done.

Afterward many of the folks who had pitched in stopped into the house for fellowship and rest. On Elsie’s instruction, Will had gotten the folding chairs out of the storage shed and set them up in a wide circle in the front room. Ordinarily Fanny would have been on her feet, serving food and hosting guests, but this was no ordinary gathering, and the fire had knocked the life out of her. A dozen or so people sat out in the front room, but right now Fanny preferred the relative quiet of the kitchen, where she sat at the table, warming her hands around a cup of hot cider.

Zed sat beside her, and although neither of them had much of a desire to talk, she drew a silent comfort from his presence. His face was smudged with soot from working the line close to the smoke
and fire. Throughout the terrible afternoon and evening, she’d been so glad that he was there to take action and make wise choices. The sharp prongs of the crisis had shaken loose the scales of shame and embarrassment and revealed the plain, strong foundation of love between them. She would not hide from him anymore.