In Your Embrace (9 page)

He nods as she passes him a ball of material left over from the curtain.
 “Whatever it takes,” he says and shoves the wad between his teeth.

She squeezes his arm, then tucks her hands under his armpits, and slowly drags him toward the hole.
 Justin grits his teeth against the pain.  Tears streak down his face, clearing away the dirt and grime that mats his auburn hair to his head.  Several times she fears she’s going to lose him, but he manages to remain alert though heavily glassy eyed.

Hannah collapses near the entrance to the tunnel.
 Her chest rises and falls from the effort of getting this far.  “Timothy?”

From somewhere down the tunnel she hears voices.
 “I’ve got him.  He’s coming out first,” she calls, hoping they can hear her over the winds and rain.

She helps roll the pastor onto his side and then gently pushes against the sole of his good shoe, helping to guide him into the tunnel.
 Although he is not nearly as broad in the shoulders as Timothy and certainly has a smaller stature than the other men outside, Justin struggles to fit through the narrow gap.

She spits to the side as he kicks up brick dust into her face.
 “You’re doing great,” she encourages, pausing to wipe her face.  It is much darker than it was the first time she came through here.  Fear rises up within her, threatening to root her in place, so she focuses only on Justin’s shoe, pushing when needed.

Their pace is slow, much too slow.

Justin’s grunts and muffled cries of pain tear at her heart. She tries to share words of encouragement as they burrow through the unstable building.  It creaks and groans around them, shifting and settling in the winds.  One mighty gust will bring it all down on top of them.  Hannah prays that they can make it before that happens.

From up ahead and she can see a light around the outline of Justin’s body. Voices echo down the tunnel toward her.
 “Hannah?  Can you hear me?”

“We’re here!” she cries hoarsely, her fingers trembling against Justin’s shoe.
 She can’t see around him well enough to see how close they are to the exit.

A light flickers all around her and she winces, her eyes too sensitive from the dark.
 “I can see you,” Timothy calls.  “You’re about ten feet from me.”

“Did you hear that?” she nearly laughs as she pats Justin’s shoe. “We’re almost here.”

He doesn’t respond.  Hannah lifts her head.  “Justin?  Are you ok?”

When he doesn’t respond again she taps his leg with more urgency. “Timothy, can you see Justin?”

“Yeah,” he calls back.  This time there is an edge to his tone.  “He doesn’t look too good.”

“I think he’s passed out!”

Sweat and hair obstruct her vision.  She blows out through her lips, trying to clear the hair away.  Tears begin to moisten her lower lashes as desperation fills her.  “He’s too heavy for me to push on my own,” she calls out, lowering her head to rest upon her arms.

There is a pause before Timothy speaks again.
 “I know you’re tired and hurting, but do you think you can get him just a little closer?  I’ll meet you halfway and reach in to pull you both out.”

Pastor Justin may not be a large man, but he is dead weight now.
 There is hardly a half inch of space on either side to allow his shoulders to squeeze through.  If he gets twisted even the smallest amount he’ll get hung up.

“I’ll do my best, but I’m getting really tired.
 I don’t know if I’ve got much left in me.”  She can hear the weariness in her voice, the same weariness that makes her arms and legs feel like weights dragging behind her.

“You can do it, Hannah.
 You were strong enough to save Iris.  You were brave enough to enter this building, and you’ve gotten Justin this far.  I know you can make it a couple more feet.  I’m right here.  I’ll grab him as soon as I can reach him.”

Spurred on by his encouragement, Hannah adju
sts her grip on the pastor’s shoes and pushes.  Her elbows buckle and her ribs cry out in protest as she braces her feet against the sides of the tunnel and slides over shards of tile.  A growl rises from deep within her chest as she pushes again and again, moving them forward a couple of inches at a time.

“You’re doing it. Just a little further,” Timothy calls down the tunnel to her.
 All that matters is getting Justin to safety.  After that she can rest.

She cries out as a teepee of rafters behind her collapse, sending a gust of brick dust into the tunnel.
 “Hannah!”

“I’m fine,” she coughs, wafting her hand to try to clear the air.

“Oh, thank God!”  Timothy sounds weak with relief.  “You need to hurry. The storm is getting worse.  I don’t know how much longer you have.”

“I’m trying.”
 She pushes Justin again and the urge to scream in frustration over their slow progress nearly tips her over the edge. The light around her is brighter.  She must be getting close.

“Timothy?”

“Another few feet.  That’s all I need.”

Nodding, Hannah screams as she shoves hard against Justin’s foot, digging deep within herself for a strength she know she doesn’t possess.

“It’s just too far.”  At Timothy’s words Hannah feels all hope fade.  
 I can’t do this.  I just can’t.  Please help me.

“Hang on a second,” he calls down the tunnel to her.
 She waits, listening to her labored breathing echo around her.  “I’ve got some rope.  Tie it around his waist and we’ll pull him out.”

The first two tosses fall short but the third is right on target.
 Hannah twists and turns as she tries to tie the rope around his waist

“I’m not very good at tying ropes but it should hold.”

“Pull!”  She hears Timothy shout.  Hannah’s head falls to rest on her arms as she feels Justin’s unconscious form being pulled away from her. Her lower lip trembles with relief as tears well in her eyes and spill over. She is completely spent of strength and energy.

“I’ve got him!”
 Timothy shouts.  “Hannah, can you crawl to me now?”

“I think so.
 Just give me a—”  She cries out as a terrible crash behind her creates a ripple effect among the beams.  The floor beneath her quakes.  She screams and covers her head with her arms.

“Hannah!”

Timothy’s cry is lost in the thundering crashing all around as the building collapses in around her, sealing her inside.

NINE

Broken

Timothy watches in horror as the building before him crumbles.  The roof sags and caves in.  The walls splinter and collapse, flattening the building to the ground.

“Hannah!”

The men yank him back as the awning nearby detaches from the wall and slams to the ground only a few feet from where he stood.  “I heard her scream,” he says in a daze, turning to look at Rubin.  “She’s hurt!”

The older man nods, the graying hair at his temples no longer visible against the mortar that clings to his coarse hair.
 “There’s nothing you can do for that girl now.”

Timothy knows that Hannah’s screams will haunt him till the day he dies.  But as he glances back at Pastor Justin, his chest swells with gratitude when he sees that the man is starting to come around.

“You did everything you could,” Rubin soothes.  “She knew the risks when she went in there.”

“So did I. I never should have allowed her to go.”

“She wasn’t yours to protect.”

Timothy runs his hands through his hair, wincing at the matted tangles he finds there.
 He can feel the push of the winds against his back.  It’s getting harder to see as the rain begins to fall in thick sheets.

“You need to come inside, Tim.
 We’ll get her out of there once the storm has passed.”

“No,” he shakes his head and pulls out of his friend’s grasp.
 “I’m not leaving her in there!”

He rushes toward the rubble and throws himself to the ground, beginning to toss aside broken boards and chunks of foundation aside.
 He ignores the howling of the winds and the torrent that beats down with unrelenting force.  For several moments the world falls away.  All that matters is getting to Hannah, to save the girl who risked everything for people he cares deeply about.

“Tim, you gotta come with us, man! You’re gonna get yourself killed if you stay out here!”
 Daniel jogs up to him and grabs his arm.  His hair hangs heavy in his eyes as he motions for Rubin to go on without him.

Timothy focuses on his friend with tears welling in his eyes.
 Blood drips from his palms where wood and metal have gouged him.    “I can’t leave her behind.”

“I know,” he says and kneels beside him, “but if you get hurt, who’s going to help her later?”

Timothy glances beyond Daniel’s shoulder to see Rubin and three other men struggling to carrying Pastor Justin around the side of the main church building.  Although much of the rear section has been demolished, the main sanctuary is the safest structure within reach.  The winds whip down the street with gale force, nearly toppling the men backward.  As they lean into the wind, he glances at the sky overhead.

“The storm’s here, Tim. There’s no more time.”

His hands tighten around the board.  Splinters bury deep, but instead of shying away from the pain he embraces it as penance.  
I couldn’t save her.

With every piece of his soul he doesn’t want to leave Hannah behind, alone and terrified, but Daniel is right.
 He has no other option.  Rising to his feet, Timothy throws one last desperate look at the ruined building and sprints toward the church.  
Please take care of her,
he prays as Daniel rounds the edge of the building behind him.

Running toward his friends isn’t the problem.
 Stopping is.  The wind claws at him and threatens to drag him right past the church building.  He grabs onto the metal railing that leads to the front doors and slowly pulls himself up the steps.

Jonas braces himself in the doorway to grab onto Timothy’s arm and pull him up the final step.
 The instant he is out of the wind, Timothy collapses to the floor in the entry hall.  The carpet is well-worn and faded but achingly familiar.

How many years has he crossed over this threshold?
 How many tears has he shed at the altar since Abby was stolen from him?  How many doubts have plagued him because of the trials God has placed in his path?

A soul shaking grief washes over him.
There’s nothing that I can do to save Hannah now, Lord.  This one is up to you.  I just hope this time you do the right thing.

He looks up at the sound of a cry and grabs onto Daniel’s outstretched hand behind him, pulling his friend through the front doors.
 Daniel sprawls to the ground as Timothy rises and leans against the double doors, fighting to turn the lock into place.

As the storm is sealed outside, Timothy slides down the paneled doors and slumps to the ground.
 Leaving Hannah behind is the second hardest thing he has ever done.  Putting his wife Abby in the ground still holds that number one spot in his life.

Tears fall unheeded down his face. He wipes his face, angry not only with himself but with the God he used to believe in and follow to the best of his ability.
 The God who he trusted not only with his life, but that of his precious wife.  The God who stole her from him far too soon.

Old bitterness swells up inside, and he struggles to stuff it back down.
 Most days he can get by fairly well.  As long as he stays busy, he can ignore the gaping hole left in his chest.  The therapist he went to see a couple of times after the funeral would frown at his lack of progress, at his refusal to deal with his grief, but it’s how he survives.  People can’t hurt you if you never let them close enough to try.

What about Hannah?
 I let her get close, didn’t I?  
It was a mistake to let her follow him to the hospital.  A mistake to not make sure she remained there.  
Whatever happens to her, this is on me.

Resting his head back against the door, Timothy spies four men carrying Justin up onto the raised platform behind the pulpit.
 He never realized just how narrow the aisle is until he sees them shuffling along.  He cringes at the shrill cry when Justin’s splint connects with one of the wooden pews.

“Tim, get over here, man! You need to take a look at his leg,” yells Matthew, a short roly poly of a man.
 As Timothy rises and jogs down the aisle, he notices Matthew’s retreating hairline is slick with perspiration from the effort it took him to help carry the injured Pastor.

He kneels down beside the partially unconscious man.
 Although he has no medical training to speak of, he’s seen his fair share of accidents on job sites.  Basic first aid is a must.

“I need someone to get me some water,” he calls to the men standing helplessly around him.
 “If the pipes aren’t working then stick a bucket outside and catch me some.”

Jonas and Rubin hurry off.
 To the rest he says, “I need clean towels and peroxide to sanitize the wound.  See if you can get into the supply closet. There should be a first aid kit in there.”

Daniel nods and sprints down the aisle.
 “We just need to ride out this storm and wait for help to arrive.  Mark, as soon as the storm begins to subside, I need you to get back to that hospital.  Charley’s on call.  Tell him we need him.”

“Matthew?
 I need you to find some boards and take care of those windows.”  He points to the once beautiful stained glass windows that have been lost.  Rain pours through the opening, flooding the floor.  “Let’s get this place sealed off as best we can.”

He raises his head to see who still remains.
 “Philip, I need you to grab John and hunt down anything soft.  Blankets, crib mattresses, choir robes, anything we can use to shelter us if this roof decides to cave in.  There’s not much we can do to keep from being crushed, but if the damage isn’t too severe we might at least be able to avoid any more wounds.”

As the last of the group hurry to their allotted tasks, Timothy looks up to see Jonas return with a small bowl of water and a stack of towels from the baptistery.
 “Thanks. Do you think you can give the others a hand?”

Jonas is already down the steps in search of someone in need.
 Timothy smiles.  That is one of the reasons he didn’t give up on coming to church altogether.  The men here have big hearts and not just a willingness to serve, but an eagerness as well.

They are real.
 No masks needed here.  Pain is pain.  Guilt is guilt.  Forgiveness is readily offered.

Dipping the cloth into the bowl, Timothy begins to clean Justin’s face.
 The open wounds on his palms sting as he plunges them into the water, but he ignores the pain.  He will tend to his own injuries later.

He winces as each new cut is revealed under the layers of dirt on Justin’s face.
 The pastor’s chest rises and falls in steady breaths. He is sleeping for the time being.

Timothy wrings the dirty water from his cloth and sinks back.
 There is little he can do for the leg.  A lump rises in his throat when he surveys the splint that Hannah constructed for Justin.  It is crude at best but amazingly intuitive considering what few supplies she must have had to work with.

“Are you ok?”
 Daniel asks as he sinks down beside Timothy.

He blinks, surprised to see that most of the men have returned.
 He can see Jonas and Matthew propping up bookcases in front of some of the shattered windows while Rubin and John work at rocking the back rows of pews out of their foundation to use to help shore up the roof.

“Yeah.”
 He clears his throat as his voice cracks.  “Yeah.  I’m good.”

Daniel shoots a pointed look down at Timothy’s hands and he realizes that he’s twisting the cloth so tightly in his hands that the tanned flesh of his fingers looks white.
 He releases his grip and sets the cloth aside.  “Just feel helpless, you know?”

His friend nods.
 “You shouldn’t blame yourself.  You know that. It’s just a hard thing to accept.”

Timothy sucks in a deep breath and holds it till his lungs begin to burn.
 Then he slowly blows it out.

“She’s different.” He turns to offer Daniel a wry smile.
 “Never seen a girl who thought so much of complete strangers and so little for her own well-being.”

His friend nods.
 “Nothing happens by accident.”

Timothy frowns.
 He has never liked hearing people say that, as if God intends for terrible things to happen to good people.  Like Abby…was it God’s plan to take her in her prime?  If so, for what purpose?  This is a question that has tumbled around in Timothy’s mind since the night she died.

“I know you want to be the hero here, Tim, but you gotta get your head on straight.
 Just remember you’re just a man.  You have limitations. We all do.”  Daniel pats him on the back and then rises.

“I know,” he whispers to no one.
 He is painfully aware of just how little he truly can do to make a difference.

As the hours pass, Timothy grows restless.
 The walls shudder and shake, but they hold well enough.  The classroom behind the sanctuary caves in and the men rush to seal off the hole.  Timothy’s entire body aches, but he forces the pain aside, focusing on the task at hand instead.

Slowly the storm begins to abate and the water stops flooding in.
 With each step he takes, water rises from the carpet and over the soles of his work boots.  Timothy paces near the front doors, restless as a caged animal.

“I think it’s nearly over,” Jonas cries out as he peels back a waterlogged bookcase from one window.

Timothy wrenches open the front door and races outside.  His heart plummets at the darkness all around him.  Night has fallen again and without any electricity, he can’t see a thing.  “Someone get me a flashlight!”

He rushes back up the steps and grabs the light Daniel offers to him, but his friend holds firm.
 “You need to wait for help.  You don’t know what’s out there.”

“Hannah is what’s out there.
 She needs me.”

Ignoring his friend’s protests, Timothy races around to the back of the church.
 His chest clenches at the sight of the devastation before him.  “Hannah!”

Propping his light on a board, Timothy falls to his knees and begins tossing debris away.

“Easy, man!” He turns to see Jonas and Rubin approaching with flashlights.  They set their lights down beside him and begin to help with the removal.  No one speaks.  They just work.

Others arrive to help.
 A line forms to help dump the debris farther away, leaving the area free to work in.  A brilliant light flares to life behind them.  Timothy shields his eyes and sees Matthew and John rolling an old hotwired work truck toward them, its headlights on.  “Yes!” He cries.  “Grab more cars.  Grab anything you can find.”

No one speaks of their pain or hunger or weariness.
 They work as a team, slowly uncovering what was once a beautiful church.  A place of hope and peace.  Timothy can only hope that it will not become a symbol of remorse as well.

“Hannah?” He calls.
 His voice has gone hoarse over the past hour from shouting her name.  She has yet to answer them and fear takes root in his heart.