As he moved away from the city’s center, Micah saw areas that hadn’t burned. He’d heard about citizens taking stands in various areas to fight for their homes. It seemed strange to see a seemingly undamaged house standing amidst the burned-out remains of other residences. What might have been the difference if each homeowner had taken a stand against the flames?
He crossed Van Ness Avenue. On one side of the street, the fire-damaged neighborhood looked much like downtown, but on the other side, it was as if nothing had happened. Almost as if a giant hand had put a barrier in place to keep the fire from going any farther.
After a few more blocks, Micah found himself in his childhood neighborhood. There were signs here and there that it had sustained damage from the earthquake, but except for the smell of smoke drifting from other parts of the city, the area had escaped the fires.
The church came into view first. The spire showed no signs of damage, which was good. Every time they had the slightest shaking, his father worried about the steeple falling down. The lawns of the church were lined with tents, and people milled about at various tasks. No doubt some of them were congregants who had been rendered homeless. Micah skirted the church grounds and made his way to the back, where he knew he’d find the parsonage. Even here there were signs of his father and mother’s labors to lend aid. A second and third clothesline had been erected, and a half-dozen women were hanging laundry from the lines. On the far side of the yard was his mother’s garden, and several young boys worked to weed and water it.
Micah stumbled up the back steps and through the open doorway. He could hear his mother giving commands like an army sergeant.
“Rose, you get someone to help you peel potatoes. We’ll need some carrots too. Joseph, you help your mother with the firewood. Take the little wagon and fetch what you can.”
Micah came up behind his mother. The top of her head didn’t even reach his shoulder. He leaned over and rested his chin atop her hair. “And what would you have me do?”
She whirled around, nearly smacking him with the broomstick she held. “Micah! Oh, praise God! We were so afraid. Joseph! Joseph, come and see. Micah is home!” She embraced him without reservation. “Are you all right?”
“I’m exhausted. I’ve worked since the quake with very little sleep. I just wanted to stop here and rest a little before I go see if Caleb and the others are all right.”
His father came into the room. He looked so tired. “Micah! Oh, son, it’s good to have you home.” He too embraced Micah. “The others are just fine. I speak to Caleb every day. They’re all over at the warehouse he bought. They’ve set it up to help those who’ve no other place to go.”
“And Kenzie?”
His father smiled. “She’s fine, Micah. Just fine.”
Micah felt relief wash over him. He swayed and shook his head as his father reached out to steady him. “I’m all right. I just need to rest a bit.”
Without a word, his father took him in hand as he had often done when Micah was a small boy. His father handed Micah’s medical bag to his mother, then pulled him through the house and past all the chaos. At the end of the hall, he opened the door to Micah’s room and ushered him inside. Micah sank onto the edge of his bed, and for a moment it escaped him as to what he should do next.
His father helped him from his coat, then pushed Micah back toward the pillow. “Lie down, son.”
Micah nodded, eased back onto the bed, and closed his eyes. He could feel his father undoing the laces of his shoes and pulling them from his feet, but after that, nothing.
CHAPTER
3
Micah. Micah, wake up!”
Opening his eyes just a fraction of an inch, Micah saw his mother’s worried expression. “What’s wrong?” His tongue felt like it was coated with ash.
“I’m so sorry. I know you haven’t had but a few hours of sleep, but we have an emergency.”
The wordemergencybrought Micah fully awake. He sat up and glanced around for his shoes. “What is it?”
“The Walters boy. He was working with his father today over at their burned-out house. He went through one of the floorboards and has a bad gash on his leg. He’s bleeding. A lot.”
Micah found his shoes at the end of the bed and quickly stepped into them. “Did you put on a tourniquet?”
“Yes. But then I came for you.”
“Good.” He bent to tie his shoes. “I’ll need a clean, clear space to work.”
“I’ve already got him on the kitchen table.”
Micah smiled up at his mother. “You’d make an excellent nurse. Care to assist me?”
She smiled. “You know I would never expect you to manage alone.”
He straightened. “Where’s my coat?”
