Authors: Judith Pella
The sermon—“I Will L ove Them Freely”—was based on Hosea 14:4. He’d never heard of this book of the Bible and it had taken some searching to find it. The only Bible reading Zack had ever done was the verses he read for these sermons. Maybe someday he would read the entire Bible for himself. Maybe someday he would read one of the sermons with comprehension. Somehow copying and memorizing them didn’t make him perceive the contents. He made sure he remained aloof to Markus’s words. Even if he wanted to, there was no time for that now, he told himself.I just gotta get this thing memorized.
First he finished taking off his boots. His feet were sore from the long, arduous day. Then, picking up the pages he had copied from the desk, he leaned back comfortably in the chair.
He reread the Bible verse, thankful it was an easy one to remember.
I will love them freely
. Scoffing, he shook his head. “How am I going to say that with a straight face when I know you can’t get something for nothing?” he muttered.
When he went on to read the next paragraph, he saw those very words.
How often have I heard men say, “You can’t get something for nothing”? This we understand
.I t made him blink as if suddenly waking up.
Was he actually starting to think like a preacher?
It made him take closer notice as he read on. Markus listed examples of how even the most innocent of gifts given by mere mortals are not given entirely without an ulterior motive. Zack immediately thought of that quilt on his bed. Now, there was a gift given with ulterior motives!
He snorted reproachfully. You are not one to judge them, are you? At least they gave you something. You have done nothing but take.
Yeah? He silently debated himself. What have I taken? I give them a sermon every week, a few kind words. I’ve’ve visited them and helped them with their farm work. Didn’t I ride out to the Cooks’ today when I was dead tired? And what about comforting a grieving widow tonight?I’ve’ve been working harder these past two months than I ever have in my life. I don’t owe them anything.
Yet every time he looked at that quilt it reminded him of who and what he really was. Well, that’s it, then! I ’ll return this cursed quilt. He jumped up, grabbed the thing, and whipped it from the bed. A corner of it snapped at the lantern beside the bed, sending it flying from the table. Glass shattered as it hit the floor, and in an instant a spark from the flame ignited the spilt kerosene. Flames lapped up the deadly liquid and immediately caught the bottom hem of the draperies.
Once more grabbing the quilt, Zack leaped toward the flame, now shooting up the drapery. His bare foot came down hard on the shards of glass. When he instinctively jerked the foot up, his other foot slipped in the puddle of kerosene, sending him sprawling to the floor. His head cracked against the footboard of the bed, and all around him went suddenly black.
The next thing he knew, a hand was shaking him roughly. “Come on, lad, I can’t carry you. You must wake up!” A voice pierced the fog of Zack’s consciousness.
He realized hands were attempting to drag him but with great difficulty. He also saw through blurred vision that flames were licking up all around him. That finally spurred him to action. He leapt to his feet, barely noticing in his panic the pain that shot up his leg from his foot, and followed his rescuer to the door.
“I’ll get some more blankets for the fire,” Mr. Copeland said after seeing that Zack was all right.
Zack saw the quilt was still on the floor and took it yet a third time, using it now in an attempt to smother the flames. But even in the desperation of the moment, it sickened him to use the precious quilt thus. When Copeland returned with more blankets, Zack tossed the scorched quilt into the hall and used one of the woolen blankets to beat at the spreading flames that already engulfed the bed.
It wasn’t long before the whole room was alight. Zack and Copeland were forced out the door and into the hall.
“We better get away,” Copeland said.
“Mrs. Copeland?”
“She’s gone to get help. Come on. It is too much for us.”
“I’m sorry,” Zack said. “I . . .I . . .”
“You need say nothing, lad,” Mr. Copeland said. “Let’s go.”
Zack scooped up the quilt and raced downstairs.
A tiny line of light was beginning to brighten the eastern sky when Zack sat down for the first time in hours. Flames still licked up toward the pearl gray sky from the charred remains of the Copelands’ fine house. Most of the fire was out, and the little that still burned would be doused before long. He hadn’t wanted to quit until it was all out, but less than an hour ago the pain in his foot, which he’d tried to ignore, had gradually turned into a throbbing that made every step an agony.
Not long after the fire started about a dozen men had formed a bucket brigade from the Copelands’ well to the house. One of the men had noticed Zack’s bare feet and had found him a pair of boots. He had put them on gratefully, not even noticing they were a bit small. Now, after being on his feet for hours fighting the fire, the constriction of the leather, along with the cuts on his feet from the broken lantern, had finally taken their toll.
There wasn’t much more to be done now. The house was gone except for two outer walls and the brick chimney. The roof had caved in a few hours ago, sealing the fate of the structure.
The response of the Maintown folk had been heroic. Even before Mrs. Copeland had reached the post office where the fire bell was kept, sleeping folk in the town proper had been awakened by the stench of the fire and had hurried to the scene. Those who lived farther out responded almost as quickly upon hearing the loud clanking of the bell, a sound all feared and none took lightly. Within a half hour twenty or thirty men and women had gathered and formed the bucket brigade. The folk had tried mighty hard to save the place, and though they failed, at least they had prevented the fire from spreading to the homes of neighbors.
Zack still could not believe what had happened. Although he had worked as tirelessly as any to heave water on the flames, he had done so in something of a daze. At first his head was swimming from cracking it on the bedpost, then the pain in his foot began intensifying, but mostly he’d simply been in shock at the swiftness of the disaster. His utter fatigue in missing an entire night’s sleep hadn’t helped, either.
Lifting his eyes, he saw the scorched quilt lying in a heap in the dirt not far from the garden rock on which he was sitting. What an irony it was the only thing saved from the fire. His things—William L ocklin’s things—were destroyed. And, of course, nearly all of the Copelands’ possessions. Mr. Copeland had been able to save a few things from the lower floor before the roof had caved in, but nothing of much consequence. Oddly, Zack had been wearing his own clothes that day, since they were the most appropriate to wear for working at the sawmill. An inexplicable wave of sadness washed over him as he was struck with just how completely WilliamL ocklin’s existence had now been extinguished. He felt as if he had lost a friend in the fire.
With a miserable sigh, he decided to focus on the most immediate problem. He lifted up his injured foot and tried to remove the boot. His arms felt like rubber, so weak he could barely budge the thing, and the pain caused by wiggling the boot forced him to stop. He suspected his foot had swelled.
“Can I help you?” came a feminine voice.
He looked up to see Ellie Newcomb approach. “I can’t believeI’m too weak to take off my own boots,” he said.
She knelt down in front of him and grasped the boot, gently edging it back and forth. He grit his teeth against the pain because he knew the boot had to go and he hated the thought of cutting someone else’s shoe, especially since these were all he had. Finally it fell off, and Ellie gave a gasp.
“Your foot is soaked with blood!” she exclaimed. “What happened?”
“The lantern broke,” he said dazedly, still reeling from the pain caused by removing the boot.
“Let me get something to clean your foot, and I ’ll bandage it.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Don’t be silly. I must take care of this.”
He laid a hand on her arm, lightly restraining her. “Ellie, look what I’ve’ve done!” When she gave him a puzzled look in response, he struggled to his feet and hobbled to where the quilt lay. He picked it up and carried it back. “It’s ruined.”
For a moment she seemed confused until it dawned on her what he was holding. “Oh!” she said with distress; then she seemed to regret her response and made an attempt to mask her emotion. “Don’t worry about that now, Reverend. You and the Copelands are safe. That’s what’s important.”
He looked at her as if she were uttering gibberish. The scorched quilt in his hands had been the nicest gift he’d ever received. “Freely given . . .” he mumbled.
“It will be okay, Reverend,” she said, patting his shoulder. “Honestly, it will. Now, don’t move.I’ll be right back.”
Watching her walk away, he envied her confidence. He wished he could believe her.
Ellie was worried about ReverendL ocklin. She supposed he had a right to be distressed. His only home had burned down around him along with all his worldly possessions. Funny that he had salvaged that quilt out of everything.
But beyond the physical losses and his injuries, something else seemed to be eating at him. Maybe it was just shock. Perhaps he blamed himself, since the fire had started in his room.
Ellie found her father standing with a group of men watching the last embers of the fire fade to a stream of black smoke.
“It’s out, then?” she asked, coming up beside him.
“Yes,” her father said. “We’ll put a watch on it for the next couple of hours just to make sure.”
“Dad,I’m’m worried about ReverendL ocklin. His foot is badly cut, and I think he’s in a lot of pain. He’s in shock and exhausted, as well.I ’d say it’s been a full day since he’s slept.”
“We’ve made arrangements. He will be staying with us, and the Copelands will go to the Belknaps.”
Ellie knew Glennis Belknap was Mrs. Copeland’s cousin.
“We ought to get him home right away,” Ellie said. “I want to bandage his foot first, though.”
“I’ll bring the wagon around.” Though Dad and Boyd had ridden their horses to the fire immediately upon hearing the fire bell, Ellie and Georgie had come later in the wagon, bringing a jug of coffee for the fire fighters.
She walked with her father to the barn, saying, “I need a moment of privacy.” I n a corner of the barn, she lifted her skirt and tore away the ruffle of her petticoat. She knew Maggie would laugh at her modesty, but she couldn’t have lifted her dress in front of the reverend! With the torn ruffle in hand, she hurried back to where he was still sitting.
“This will have to do for a bandage,” she said, “until we get you home.”
“Home?”
“You will be staying with us, if you don’t mind.”
“What about the Copelands?” he asked.
“They are going with the Belknaps,” she explained as she wrapped the ruffle around his bloody foot. With the growing light of dawn, she could see his foot was worse than she’d thought. There was one large shard of glass protruding from it—no wonder it had pained him so! She plucked this out with her fingers but feared there might be some smaller splinters still in the cut.
“What about Mrs. Donnelly?” he asked. “You don’t have room for me and her.”
“Mrs. Donnelly went home. She couldn’t rest, fearing Tommy might come home and not find her there. My mother went with her.”
Dad drove up with the wagon. His and Reverend L ocklin’s horses were tied to the back.
“Can you walk, son?”
“Sure, Calvin.” ReverendL ocklin struggled to his feet, shrugging off helping hands and nearly collapsing with his first step. He cursed.
Ellie and her father exchanged a look but said nothing. Ellie supposed if her mother were there, she’d chide the minister for his impropriety no matter that he’d had a terrible day and had every right to forget his manners.I n any case he grudgingly allowed them to help him to the wagon, where he hoisted himself, again reluctantly accepting help, into the back. Ellie climbed up next to him, and Dad got in the driver’s seat. He told them as he snapped the reins that Boyd and Georgie would stay with Colby to watch the house.
“Where’s Maggie?” the reverend asked.
For some reason the query disturbed Ellie. Despite how dazed he was, he had noticed Maggie’s absence.
“Mama took her to the Donnellys’,” Ellie said. “She reckoned if Tommy did come home, it might be good for him to find a friend there.”
“He’s not coming home,” Reverend Locklin muttered.
“Why do you say that?”
“Huh?”
It appeared he hadn’t realized he’d spoken out loud.
“What makes you think Tommy’s not going home?” she asked again. “You don’t think he’s—”
“He’s scared, that’s all. No matter what happened out there, he’s just scared.”
“But where else would he go? He’s only seventeen.”
“I was only twelve.”
“You were twelve when?”
“When I —” Stopping abruptly, he gave his head a shake. “He’s nearly a man,” he finally added. “Maybe he’ll be better off.”
“Without his family, his friends? All alone?” Ellie could not fathom such a thing. When she’d been away at Mrs. Dubois’ Finishing School, only as far away as Portland, she’d been lonely even with fifty other girls around her every day. She’d realized then how important her family was to her and that there were no friends like old friends.
Reverend L ocklin turned and gave her a strange look, the first time since she found him after the fire that there had been real clarity in his eyes. She couldn’t guess what it meant, and he said nothing to illuminate it.
Dad was pulling the wagon into their yard, and Ellie chose not to question the reverend further. She didn’t like the sensation that look had given her, or perhaps she’d liked it too much. I t had given her a tingle, almost as much as their kiss had. It was as if he were seeing her, really seeing her for the very first time. She’d felt as though in that moment he’d seen who she really was.