“Adam! Adam!” Emma ran into the barn. It was a small building; if he was there, she ought to be able to find him. She went into Dill’s stall. The horse looked fine. None of her other animals were around.
Then Emma saw it: a rusty shovel thrown carelessly against the wall. She picked it up. Something dark and sticky dripped from one side.
Blood.
With a growing sense of dread, Emma dropped the shovel and ran outside. The sound of shattering glass filled the air.
“Adam!”
Just as she started for his house, she saw Peter’s buggy pull into the driveway. At the same moment, the smell of smoke reached her nose.
“Fire!” she yelled. “
Grossmammi’s
in there!”
But it wasn’t her house on fire. It was the workshop.
Smoke filled the shop. With all his strength Adam crawled toward Laura’s cries. When he reached her he smelled gasoline. Saw the small gas can with a flaming rag tied to it rolling on the hardwood floor. A bolt of yellow fabric caught fire, inches from Laura’s face.
“Laura, grab my hand.” He stretched out to her prone body on the floor.
“I . . . can’t . . . see.” She pushed herself up and tried to stand.
“
Nee
. Don’t get up. Stay on the ground.”
She lifted her head. Turned her face toward him.
He nearly passed out at the sight.
Clara hadn’t realized Laura was missing until she smelled the smoke. She and Carol came off the porch at a run. She saw Emma come toward Peter’s buggy. Her husband jumped out, shouted something at Emma, who then turned and dashed to Carol.
“Fire! In the workshop!”
Without hesitation, Carol headed for the barn to call the fire department. Emma heaved, trying to catch her breath.
The workshop is on fire?
“Clara,
nee
!”
Ignoring Emma, Clara ran blindly in the direction of the building. She could see flames licking up the back wall and curling over the roof. All that hard work. All her dreams. Disappearing in smoke.
Peter appeared, carrying two buckets of water from the pump in the barn. He tossed them on the fire, but it had little impact.
Clara sank to her knees. Peter came up beside her and put his arm around her. She wept.
Then she heard something that made her tears vanish.
“Help! Help us!”
“Adam!” Emma ran for the building, but Peter caught her arm and dragged her back.
“You can’t
geh
in there!”
“Adam’s in there.” She looked around. “Where’s Laura? Dear Lord, she must be in there too!”
“Carol’s calling the fire department right now.”
“They won’t make it in time.” Emma burst into sobs. “They’ll die before the firemen get here!”
From her room, Leona watched helplessly as Mark threw the flaming gas can into the shop window and then ran like a coward into the woods. She heard glass breaking, saw the smoke rising and the flames growing. Heard the bloodcurdling cries of a girl, the weakened voice of Adam Otto. Watched Peter holding Emma back.
It couldn’t end like this. Evil would not triumph. Leona closed her eyes, wept, and prayed harder than she had ever prayed before.
Clara looked on in horror as her husband ran toward the burning building. Smoke snaked through the spaces between the wood planks and underneath the door. Adam’s and Laura’s voices went silent.
“Peter!
Nee!
”
Sirens sounded in the distance. Peter kicked at the door. After four futile attempts, he ran and grabbed an axe from the woodpile in the backyard. He hacked at the door until it splintered, then kicked it one more time. It fell open, and Peter disappeared inside the smoke-filled building.
She couldn’t lose Peter, not now.
I don’t deserve him, Lord. But he doesn’t deserve to die. Save him, Jesus. Please, save them all
.
Leona continued to pray as Peter ran into the workshop. She held her breath, waiting for him, and for Adam and Laura to come out. After what seemed like an eternity, Peter came out, carrying Laura. He set her gently on the ground. Clara went to her, and although Leona couldn’t see what upset her so much, she couldn’t miss the horrified look on her granddaughter’s face.
Smoke billowed through the broken front door. The fire truck finally arrived. Two men in full gear jumped out of the truck just as Peter dragged Adam by his arms from the workshop. Adam didn’t move. Peter collapsed beside him.
Leona continued to pray as two of the firefighters went immediately to attend to Laura and to Adam. And as she watched, the workshop her husband had built alone by hand, the place where he had worked for nearly fifty years, crashed in upon itself in a blaze of flame.
Adam fought for breath, but all he inhaled was smoke. His eyes refused to open. He tried to reach for Laura again. Felt nothing but unbearable heat.
Emma appeared in his mind. Beautiful Emma. He had never told her how he felt. Never made amends with his father. Never found out what troubled his mother. His return to Middlefield had been a failure. His life, an even bigger one.
No, he hadn’t failed. Not completely. He had made peace with God. These past weeks he’d prayed. Asked for the forgiveness he desperately needed. Put Emma and her family before himself. Tried to protect her, because he loved her.
Now he was going to die. And much to his surprise, he wasn’t afraid.
He did, however, have regrets. Wished he had done things differently. Wished he had been braver, wiser, more honest about his feelings. If he could do it all again, there were many things he would change. But he wasn’t going to get that chance. God would just have to understand.
He hoped Emma would too.
Suddenly he felt cool air on his hot skin. Maybe he had already died.
“Adam?”
Now he was certain he was dead. It was the voice of an angel. Sounding like Emma, sounding very far away. He tried to open his eyes again. Felt drops of water on his cheek. Did it rain in heaven?
“Adam . . .”
The voice was softer now. Like a loving whisper in his ear. He took a breath. Suddenly his body shook with spasms as he gulped for air.
“Miss, you’ll have to move,” a man’s voice said.
“I won’t leave him. Not until I know he’s all right.”
“We have to get oxygen to him.”
The spasms stopped. Someone tried to put a mask over his face. Adam managed to shove it out of the way. He opened his eyes. Saw his Emma kneeling over him, her eyes filled with tears. And love.
He managed to reach up and touch her soft cheek. “I’m okay, Emma. Everything is okay.”
She smiled, and he knew the words were true. Emma disappeared as the paramedics put the mask over his face, and he closed his eyes, finally able to breathe.
“Peter, you shouldn’t be doing that.” Clara went to her husband and helped him put on his shirt. He’d burned his right forearm, yet refused to go to the hospital.
Grossmammi
, of course, had a salve she said would take care of the burn and had applied it to Peter’s arm soon after the fire.
“You had a restless night.” Clara gently guided Peter’s arm through the sleeve of his shirt and pulled it over his head. She looked at the white bandage on his arm. “Are you still in a lot of pain?”
He shook his head. “Not so much. Just hard not to sleep in
mei
own bed.” He looked at Clara. “Our bed.”