Chapter 15 Pieces of Us #2
Colin stared for a long time before opening the car door. The sight of their ruined home pressed down on him all over again—a weight in his chest, sharp and cold. He took Joshua’s hand and held it tight. For now, it was all he could do just to take the next step.
They gathered in the backyard, under the cherry trees. David turned to Colin. “Graham just texted me. He’s been cleared to start. He and his crew are on their way—Emberlight should be here soon.”
Nate held his phone up in front of Colin’s face. It was a text from Trent which read: “On our way. Bringing doughnuts.”
Colin smiled, then bowed his head — a surge of almost overwhelming gratitude bringing tears to his eyes.
The low rumble of a diesel engine fractured the fragile peace. Colin peered through the soft orange canopy to see a truck parking in front of the house. Its side bore the elegant gold script of Emberlight Restorations above a line drawing of a phoenix rising from a swirl of smoke.
They all watched as the engine cut off and the doors opened. The first to step out was a woman in her late thirties, tall, with a no-nonsense ponytail and a clipboard already in hand. She wore dark jeans and a fitted black polo with the company’s logo stitched neatly over her heart.
She glanced up at the house and then at the group in the backyard. “Colin Campbell-Abrams?” she called, walking toward them with brisk efficiency.
Colin stepped forward and nodded. “That’s me.”
“I’m Mara Chen, team lead with Emberlight,” she said, offering her hand.
For a split second, Colin didn’t move. His legs suddenly felt heavy, as if his body was trying to anchor him in place. It wasn’t fear. His brain had frozen, mid-frame. After a beat, he shook himself, then stepped forward to shake her hand.
Her grip was firm but not aggressive. “Graham sent over a few photos. I’m sorry for what you’ve lost—but we’re here to help save what we can.”
Joshua limped over to stand beside him. Mara gave him a brief smile before glancing at her clipboard.
“We’ve got three vans on the way with packing supplies, air scrubbers, and a textile containment unit.
The full crew will be here within the hour.
In the meantime, I’d like to do a walkthrough with one of you if you’re up to it. ”
Joshua watched Mara, feeling a flicker of relief at her calm efficiency.
“I’ll go,” Colin said.
“No,” Joshua interrupted, touching his arm. “Let me. You’ve been carrying this for days. It’s my turn.” He kissed his husband’s cheek and murmured into his ear. “You want me strong, so let me be strong.” He kissed him again. “The task right in front of me.”
Colin smiled and touched his cheek. “OK, bud. If you need me–just holler.”
Mara reached into her satchel and pulled out a sealed package. “N95s and gloves. Put these on before we go in. And don’t worry—we won’t touch anything until we’ve cataloged everything in your presence. Our priority is preserving what matters most.”
Joshua took the gear and followed her inside, his shoulders squared but his hand trembling slightly as he fitted the mask over his face and followed Mara through the kitchen and into their living room.
As Joshua walked away, Colin swayed. Just slightly.
His hand shot out and grabbed a branch of the nearest cherry tree, struggling for balance.
A flicker of light danced in his vision—quick and sharp like the flash before the blast. He blinked it away with a soft moan.
No! Not here. Then he made himself straighten, hoping no one noticed.
In the living room, Joshua forced himself to truly take in his surroundings.
He stood before the ruined couch, touching the scorched fabric.
This was where he’d curled in Colin’s lap after the bar exam, where Colin whispered, “You’re safe now,” as they watched their favorite shows.
Now the cushions sagged, streaked with soot, one leg warped.
It wasn’t just furniture. It had held them.
He drew in a shaky breath, and then his eyes drifted toward the nearby mantle, on the floor next to the fireplace, he spotted the cherished photo of his great-grandparents, Moishe and Chaya Friedman, who had died in the gas chambers of Treblinka.
It was partially covered by soot, and Joshua’s heart sank, fearing it might not be salvageable.
He carefully lifted the blackened frame.
Moishe and Chaya’s faces were still visible beneath the grime.
Moishe’s expression— his look of quiet strength and resilience, the face so like his own—stared back at him, Chaya’s gentle countenance beside him.
His breath caught in a sob, and he turned, holding the precious photo close as he moved to Mara’s side.
She was standing near the stairs, cataloging items with careful efficiency, but turned when he approached.
Joshua cleared his throat. “Mara, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
He hesitated briefly, then extended the picture. “This photo—my great-grandparents. They…” He paused, voice tightening. “They died in Treblinka. It’s precious to Colin and me. Can you save it?”
Mara’s eyes softened slightly, understanding instantly.
She carefully took the frame from him, inspecting it, her gaze intent.
“We’ve restored photos in worse shape. The soot doesn’t seem to have penetrated too deeply, and the glass protected it.
I’m optimistic we can restore this. Or at least make it…
better.” She looked into his face. “I’ll make sure it’s marked as a priority. ”
Joshua exhaled slowly, a weight visibly lifted. “You have no idea what that means to us.”
Mara offered him a gentle smile. “I think perhaps I do.”
Joshua nodded, blinking back tears. “All right, Mara. What do you need from me next?”
He moved alongside her as they navigated the living room, cataloging the damage with quiet, methodical care. He spoke only when necessary, answering her questions or clarifying the importance of particular items in a low, soft voice.
Each step felt impossibly heavy, but he forced himself forward, silently repeating Colin’s words: “One simple task at a time”.
It became his lifeline, holding him above the rising tide of grief.
He reached toward a framed photo on a shelf, blackened by soot but still recognizable: Colin and him at Ross Castle.
His fingers shook, hovering inches from the frame, before he quickly withdrew, swallowing hard. “Can you save this one?”
“I’ll see the picture is marked as a priority,” she promised, then pointed. “This lamp?” she asked, pausing by a ceramic piece near the couch, covered in a layer of soot.
Joshua shook his head slowly. “Not sentimental.”
Mara made careful notes and photographs as they worked through the ruined room.
Joshua glanced toward the kitchen, where Colin, Trent, and Jeff were packing up food; upstairs, David and Nate were upstairs, boxing what they could.
The house felt fuller, less desolate, with friends moving quietly through its battered spaces.
Colin would glance up now and then, silently checking in, but remained deliberately distant, allowing Joshua space to navigate this difficult task.
“This set of books?” Mara asked, gesturing toward the bottom shelf of a bookcase.
Joshua leaned closer. “They're mostly replaceable paperbacks,” he murmured. “But the poetry books—those were gifts from Colin. I want to save them if possible.”
“We'll prioritize them,” Mara promised, marking them on her list.
They worked onward, Joshua’s confidence growing as he dealt with each decision in front of him. It was painful but manageable, taking one small step at a time.
Eventually, they reached the small table near the front window.
Joshua froze, his throat tightening, as he saw the statue of their two clasped hands lying next to the table, clearly damaged.
He approached it slowly, his hands trembling as he reached toward it, already shaking with sobs as he carefully lifted it.
The resin was blistered in spots, one fingertip chipped clean away, and a dark crack ran along the base. But the two clasped hands still clung together, blackened yet unbroken.
Mara’s voice softened as she took in the statue. “This looks custom-made.”
Joshua nodded, brushing the damaged hands. “Colin had it made for our anniversary,” he whispered. “It means… god, it means so much to both of us.”
Mara waited quietly, allowing him the emotional space he needed.
“Can it be saved?” Joshua asked, his voice barely audible. He turned to face her, and behind the mask, his face was streaked with tears.
He watched in silence as Mara lifted the statue, examining it closely. She ran her gloved fingers over the intricate detail, then sighed quietly.
“There is damage here that may be beyond my ability to repair. The missing fingertip, for one thing.” She sighed and slid her finger along the dark crack.
“I’m not sure about this. It’s possible I could do––something.
” She looked at Joshua, noting the tears on his cheeks, and laid a hand on his arm. “I’ll try.”
Joshua took the statue into his hands, studying the ugly, darkened marks etched into the surface of the statue he adored.
“It’s all right,” he whispered, his hand brushing their clasped hands as if to reassure a beloved child that this flaw hadn’t lessened their worth.
His gaze lifted to meet Mara’s. “Do what you can, and I’ll hope for the best.” “It’s like life—some scars run deep. But we carry them anyway.”
Mara held his gaze a moment, then nodded slowly, moved by the quiet resilience in his words. “Yes, we do.”
He handed it back to Mara to be packed, then turned and spotted his husband standing in the living room doorway, listening to every word. Colin’s smile was a benediction as he moved to Joshua’s side and wrapped him in his arms.
“I love you so much,” he whispered.
“Just as I love you.”
“The task right in front of you, my darling.”
“One thing at a time, my yedid.”
“That’s how we’ll get through this.”
Joshua tightened his arms around Colin, surprised by a flicker of quiet pride. Just hours ago, facing this had felt impossible—yet here he was, still standing.
From the kitchen, he heard Trent sigh dramatically as he and Jeff carefully wrapped salvaged food items. “God forbid we can’t save Colin’s protein bars. Can you imagine the weeping and wailing from Josh?”
Joshua turned to Colin, and they both burst into laughter as they held each other close.
Mara tucked away her clipboard and approached them, smiling as she heard their laughter. “You handled that exceptionally well,” she told Joshua. “This kind of loss—it’s tough, but focusing on small tasks can help you get through it.”
Joshua turned and met his husband’s eyes, then leaned against him, whispering, “I’m learning that.”
“The crew will be here shortly to start packing salvageable items. We’ll secure everything carefully and get you an initial restoration plan within a day or so.” She laid a hand on Joshua’s arm. “We’ll help you get your life back… I promise.”
Joshua leaned into Colin, letting the hope settle in. For the first time since the fire, it felt possible.