Latching the door, she hurried back to the window. All three of her daughters stood there shouting for help, their voices all carrying farther than hers could.
She took a shoe from Claire’s hand and lobbed it against the window. It hit with a clank before falling to the ground below.
She picked up the shoe Megan had dropped on the floor, but the window opened before she could throw it, and Thomas stuck his head out.
The girls started speaking at once, words about a fire and smoke and Ma not being able to talk anymore.
She felt a tear slip down her face. Even if her throat wasn’t aching and raw, she’d still not have been able to speak for the giant lump lodged inside it. She needed help, and Thomas was there.
Just a few hours ago, she’d told him she’d never be able to trust him again. Yet she had every confidence he’d get them out of this building unharmed.
Thomas barely took time to pull on his boots before he raced down the stairs and into the night. The red glow of the fire from the first floor windows of Jessalyn’s shop sent eerie shadows over the melting snow.
“I need to get a ladder,” he shouted up at his daughters, then darted across the street. He’d seen an old ladder lying along the side of The Rusty Wagon. Hopefully the thing wasn’t broken or rotted through. But first he raced up onto the porch, thrust open the door to the bar, and shouted, “Fire at the seamstress shop. We need help.”
By the time he’d raced around the building to the ladder, the handful of men who’d been inside were already trickling out, Isaac leading the charge. He appeared at Thomas’s side and hefted the far end of the ladder. “Jessalyn and the girls, are they still inside?”
“Why do you think I need the ladder? They’re at the window that faces your apartment. I think it’s one of the girl’s rooms.”
Isaac gave a quick nod. “I sent Leo Crivits for the fire wagon and Neville and Virgil are heading down to The Penny to see if they can scrounge up help there.”
“Sounds good.” Thomas hefted the long ladder. Pain stabbed his shoulder and flashed up his arm, and he groaned. Of all the times for his shoulder to get temperamental. He gritted his teeth against the ache and turned back toward his wife’s shop, then stilled. Through the windows that lined the street, orange flames covered the first floor of her shop. “Oh dear God, please let us get them out before that floor collapses.”
“What was that?” Isaac called.
Thomas shook his head. “I didn’t realize the fire was so bad. Now let’s go.”
He started across the street, not caring if he had to drag the ladder the entire way himself despite his screaming shoulder. But Isaac kept pace, following him to the side of the building and helping him place the long ladder beside the window.
Olivia reached for it instantly.
“Wait for me to come up.” He checked to make sure the ladder stood sturdy, then climbed the rungs while Isaac held the bottom.
“Take Megan first.” Jessalyn spoke in a low, gritty voice he barely recognized, then handed their youngest daughter out the window. Megan wrapped her arms around his neck and clung tightly. It was a semblance of her usual hug, but this time panic and fear tightened her arm muscles.
“I’ll be back for Claire in a minute.” He met his wife’s eyes, and nearly found himself reaching for her when he saw the dampness reflected in them. “Sit down, Jess. There’s less smoke on the floor than there is up high.”
He didn’t watch to see if she obeyed, but headed down the ladder as quickly as possible with Megan’s small body wrapped around him.
By the time he handed her to Isaac, others had arrived to help put out the fire, many with buckets they filled with snow rather than water.
He turned and raced back up the ladder for Claire, who came willingly and obediently, clinging to him just as Megan had while he made his way back down again despite his worsening shoulder. By the time he returned for Olivia, both she and Jessalyn were standing at the window while flames licked up the door on the opposite wall of the bedroom.
“Can I follow…?” Jessalyn’s voice gave out before she finished.
It’d be better if she waited. Even if she still climbed down by herself, at least he could help her if she started to slip. But he wanted to leave her in a burning room even less. “Yes, follow me, but be careful.”
Not until he climbed down several rungs and she stepped onto the ladder above him did he realize she was in her bare feet and nightgown. His daughters had all been dressed the same. But did half the men in town need to see his wife in her nightclothes?
He climbed to the base of the ladder, where he handed Olivia off to Isaac. Isaac didn’t let her bare feet touch the snowy ground, just hefted her into his arms like a doll and carried her across the snow to the stairway entrance to his apartment.
Thomas glanced up the ladder to find Jessalyn making her way swiftly down. When her feet reached the final wrung, he swept her into his arms much as Isaac had just done with Olivia.
“Can’t have your feet getting frostbit,” he whispered, which explained why he was holding her, but not quite why he was hugging her so tightly, or why his heart thudded in his chest, or why she wound her own arms tightly about his neck.
“Thank you,” she croaked, followed by a harsh coughing sound.
“Let’s get you inside and find Dr. Harrington. You need to be examined.”
