Someday: 3 (Sunrise) (15 page)

Kari touched her daughter’s cheeks. “God’s working out all the details, little girl. Even the ones we can’t see.”

She thought about Ashley. Her sister was handling the absence of Sarah better than any of them could’ve imagined. She doted on Annie and was genuinely happy for Kari and Ryan. One day, if God so willed, Ashley would have another little girl. Kari prayed every morning for that to happen. She also prayed for her brothers—both of whom were struggling in different ways. But here was one prayer definitely answered. Erin and Sam were moving back to the area next summer!

Kari was so happy she had to blink back tears. Somewhere in heaven, she could only hope her mother might share in the joy of all that was happening. There were details that needed to fall into place, babies that were hopefully yet to be born, and marriages that needed some work. Maybe even a wedding somewhere in the future. But today Kari could do nothing but rejoice. Because though they didn’t quite have the happy ending they were praying for, one thing was very clear tonight.

It was within view.

Landon was playing hearts with three other firemen at the Bloomington fire station and trying to get off the phone.

“Come on, Blake,” Seth, his buddy across from him, raised his hand in the air and let it fall to the table, exasperated. “You’re on the phone more than a teenager.”

Landon covered the receiver and whispered, “Wait a minute.” Then he shot the other two a similar look. “I’m almost off!”

“Sure . . . sure.” The fireman to his right set his cards facedown, stood, and stretched. “I’m getting a cup of coffee. Five o’clock puts me to sleep.”

On the other end of the line were Ryan and Peter, Landon’s brothers-in-law. The three of them were trying to work out the details of a fishing trip. John was joining them, but he’d already given his input. Any Saturday in the next month worked fine for him.

“I say we go this week.” Peter laughed. “Otherwise it gets too cold for Ryan.”

“Are you kidding?” Ryan was quick with his response. “I’ve spent half my life on the gridiron. You don’t know cold until you’ve been laid out on a frozen football field.”

“Okay, but we’re not talking about ice fishing.” Peter hesitated, and there was the faint sound of calendar pages turning. “Let’s not take this thing into November.”

Landon was about to say that he agreed with Peter. The coming weekend would work best, and if they made the trip later in the day, Cole could come with them. His soccer game was at ten o’clock, which meant they could be on the shore of Lake Monroe by noon with the whole afternoon ahead of them.

But before he could say anything, the fire alarm went off. The whir of the siren and its rhythm told them immediately what they were up against.

“Structure fire, gentlemen.” One of the guys at the table dropped his cards and pulled his radio from his pocket. On the other end a dispatcher was already giving out the address.

“Gotta go.” Landon shut his phone and hurried with the others out the door and into the garage, where their turnouts hung on hooks adjacent to the fire trucks. The call was for both units, so at the same time four firefighters from the other side of the firehouse were streaming into the garage.

Landon was the designated paramedic tonight, and even though so far the call didn’t involve medical, he would need to be one of the first at the scene. His fingers moved nimbly, securing his uniform and tightening his chin strap. He climbed into the driver’s side as the heavy-duty garage door lifted. “Where are we going?”

Seth took the seat beside him. He was the lieutenant on duty, the one in charge of corresponding with dispatch and making sure they knew where they were headed. “Walnut south toward Ruel Highway.” They had a GPS, but the firefighters at the Bloomington station had worked there for years. They knew the roads faster without punching in the address.

Already the siren was blaring, and Landon whipped the fire truck west down 4th Street. He was turning left on College when Seth barked a few more questions at dispatch. Then he turned to Landon. “It’s one of the old farmhouses on Dillman Road. Make a left just before the highway.”

Dillman Road? Landon’s heart skipped a beat, then slammed into double time. The Baxter house was on Dillman Road. But it couldn’t be. . . . The old road had dozens of homes on acreages. There was no reason to think the call was for—

Seth rattled off the street number and stopped short. “Blake, that’s the Baxter place. I’m sure of it.”

The address was still screaming through Landon’s mind. “Yes. It is.” The Baxter house, the one Ashley and her siblings had grown up in, was on fire. At this hour, John Baxter might be home. Ashley might even be inside, working on her painting. If she was, the kids would be there too. Downstairs watching TV, no doubt.
Dear God, help us
. He tightened his hold on the steering wheel and did the only thing he could do without actually being on the scene.

He prayed.

John’s shift at the hospital had been lighter than usual. Mondays were rounds at the hospital and only a handful of patients in the office. A flu was going around, and a few newborns needed checkups. At the hospital he stopped in to see Brooke’s patient Ethan Teeple. The boy was still in grave condition, but his smile always warmed John’s heart. If anyone could fight leukemia, it was Ethan. John prayed for the boy often.

He headed out of the hospital parking lot and turned east on 2nd Street. He was just reaching College when two fire trucks tore through the intersection headed south. John pulled over, waiting until the emergency vehicles had cleared the path.
Be with them, God. Please be with them.

He’d always prayed for the city’s firemen because they needed all the help they could get. But he prayed especially now that he had a son-in-law who worked for the department. He tried to remember if Landon was on duty today.

The traffic moved back into the various lanes, and John turned right on College. He settled into a steady pace and stretched his left leg out. The weekend had been nice—better than he could’ve hoped, really. He and Elaine had gone out to dinner both Friday night and Saturday. He smiled at the memory. She forgave him. Maybe that was the strangest part of all.

After Ashley’s talk, he had called Elaine and explained that he was sorry. “I’m confused. There’s no other way to say it,” he told her.

John held the steering wheel with one hand and stayed even with the traffic around him. The fire trucks and sirens were too far ahead to be seen. Again he smiled to himself. He still couldn’t believe Elaine’s reaction to his apology that night. One other time he’d tried to back out of their friendship, and she’d reacted the same way. That time it had also been Ashley who found a way to bring them together during the final stages of the project to bring Katy and Dayne’s house up to par.

Since then, things had been great until his and Elizabeth’s anniversary. “I guess I started second-guessing myself,” he told Elaine.

Instead of being angry, she had nothing but compassion in her tone. “I understand. I would wonder about you if you weren’t second-guessing yourself. You’ve already loved so fully in your life. Maybe once is enough.” Her empathy filled his heart and doubled his feelings for her.

John kept his eyes on the road, enjoying the familiar drive. It wasn’t dark yet, and the leaves were brilliant oranges and reds. Against the blue sky, the picture was stunning. Only then did John notice a plume of black smoke in the distance.

He kept on, past Winslow Road, and as he neared Rhorer, he could see the smoke more clearly, in the direction of his house. He felt the first ripple of concern. Was it one of his neighbors? The black plume was thick enough that it was most definitely a house fire. John had seen a few of them over the years, enough to recognize the volume and height of the rush of smoke.

He drove by Church Lane, and as Walnut curved to the right, he kept his peripheral vision on the billowing smoke.
Dear God, protect the people inside. Please . . .

But there was no comforting response this time, only the pressing urgency to drive faster, to get home and see how close the fire was to his house. He took the shortcut down Empire Road and turned left onto Dillman. What he saw then took his breath. The fire trucks were barely visible, up the road a quarter mile or so. But there was no mistaking which house was on fire.

It was his.

He pressed his foot harder on the gas pedal and sped into his driveway in time to see red flames pushing through the roof near the back of the house. Two fire trucks were angled into the end of the driveway, and as John drove up and parked, he saw that half a dozen men were dousing the house with water.

His heart thudded against his chest, pounding out a rhythm of barely controlled panic. In his role as doctor, John had been in too many emergency situations to count. But here . . . with his house and all he held dear going up in flames before his eyes, he could barely breathe as he raced up the driveway.

He was halfway to the house when Landon came running toward him. He ripped off his helmet, his face stricken. “I can’t reach Ashley. I’ve already been through the house, but I can’t find her.”

“She isn’t here.” John was certain. He’d talked to her half an hour ago. “She’s at the mall getting clothes for Devin.”

Landon’s body sagged with visible relief, but his face was grim. “I need you to stay here by your car, okay?” He lifted his helmet and took a few backward steps. “We’re doing the best we can. It looks like it’s contained in the attic.” He hurried off toward the others.

Please, God.
John’s prayer was more of a desperate cry.
Help them save the place
. He stared at the house, at the thick, dark smoke pouring out of the far section of the roof. That was the area over the garage, so maybe . . . maybe the structure could be saved.

His eyes never left the building, but he wasn’t seeing his house in flames on a perfect fall evening. He was seeing it the way it would always look—alive and warm with light and laughter and conversation. With Elizabeth and him walking around the back near the creek and Cole stooping low near the pond catching tadpoles. With a Christmas tree in the front window and carols being sung from the living room.

John had no idea how much time passed, but with every minute the flames lessened and then finally disappeared altogether. Still the firefighters poured water on the roof, two of them from positions high on ladders that extended from their trucks.

From the time he and Elizabeth bought this house, they’d been grateful for the fire hydrant. There weren’t many along Dillman Road, but the one the firemen were using now sat right at the end of his driveway. Without it, the firefighters would’ve had to connect hoses from two or three houses away, and they would’ve certainly lost the Baxter house in the process.

One after another his kids began arriving. Ashley must’ve called Kari and Brooke, and in no time the whole family knew, the way they always knew about any event that affected one of them. The looks on their faces broke his heart. They huddled in a small bunch—Ashley and the boys, Kari and Ryan and their kids, and Brooke. Peter had stayed home with the girls, and Luke was away on business again. Reagan called, though, and John promised to let her know how things turned out. Ashley took care of calling Dayne and Katy and Erin and Sam and leaving them messages.

“Has anyone been inside?” Ashley had tears on her cheeks. “Tell me we can still save it.”

Smoke hung thick in the air, and before John could answer her, Landon trudged over. He had smears of soot along both cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot. “God was with us. I could feel Him today.”

John was afraid to ask, but Brooke stepped up and searched Landon’s face. “Is any of it salvageable?”

“Yeah, Daddy.” Cole had his arm around Ashley’s waist. His eyes were wide with fear and admiration for his father. “You saved it, right?”

Despite the exhaustion in his expression, Landon’s face lit up with the most wonderful smile. “We sure did, buddy.” He turned to John. “We contained it completely. When the house was built, someone used firewall material to separate the attic from the garage.” He wiped his hand across his brow and coughed a few times. “It was an inferno in the attic, and the garage is flooded. But the rest of the house only has minimal smoke damage.”

The words washed over him.
Minimal smoke damage?
The entire place had looked like an inferno when he pulled into the driveway. John wanted to close the distance between himself and his son-in-law and wrap him in a big hug. But Cole and Ashley and Devin surrounded him, and Landon was already backing up, needing to return to the other firefighters. Instead John stuck his hands in his pockets and grinned at Landon. “You know what this means?”

“Yeah . . . I get first dibs on bait this Saturday.”

John laughed. “Exactly.”

After the fire trucks left and the other family members had gone home, John and Landon went into the house and moved from one room to the other, opening windows. Miraculously, Landon’s assessment was accurate. The smell of smoke was strong in the house, but nothing was charred and there was no permanent damage.