24. Jacob
Jacob
Ireturned to myself as if surfacing from deep water, gasping for air. I had been kissing Vee—really kissing her. And I wanted to do it again. A warning screamed in the back of my mind. Slow down. Think. Too late to worry about what her memories might bring, now.
I ignored the warning.
What had the lightning hit? Not us. I wrapped my body around hers, wanting her safe in my arms.
Her hair brushed my chin. I pressed my lips to the top of her head, breathing into her silky strands. I’d lost control. I’d poured my feelings into my touch, my kiss. I’d kissed other girls, but never like this. Never anything like this. Mercy.
“What is that?” she asked, stiffening in my arms.
I pushed through the door for a better view. Across the creek, Mr. Lund’s farmhouse blazed in the twilight of the storm—the entire south side engulfed in flames. There was no sign of the man. Rain fell in sheets, but flames licked the sagging roof.
I sprinted. Slid in the mud. Vaulted over the narrowest part of the churning creek. Long strides carried me up the hill toward the burning house.
His wagon sat inside the barn. He must be home.
I splashed through puddles in the farmyard and ran for the front door.
The thunderstorm continued to dump rain, but the flames were gaining ground.
I was drenched to the skin. Heat hit me as I mounted the steps.
I took them two at a time and burst into the burning house without pause.
I called out for my neighbor, but my words were lost in the roar of the fire and the rain. Smoke stung my eyes and throat. I pulled my damp shirt over my nose and mouth and squinted. I rushed through the few rooms, searching in the smoke, blinking hard but still blind.
Mr. Lund was slumped on the floor in the back room, breathing but unconscious. I shouted in his ear, but he did no more than groan and cough. The back wall looked ready to collapse in the flames.
At least he was alive. I reached under his arms and clasped my hands before his chest. He was heavy as a downed tree. I pulled him toward the door at the front of the house, his legs scraping along the floor.
Heat intensified with each step, scalding the inside of my nose and mouth as I inhaled… or tried to. My lungs refused to draw in air. The front door crept closer, inch by inch.
A fiery beam crashed behind us. The back wall had come down and part of the roof followed, burying the spot where we’d been moments ago. Burning embers exploded, stinging my skin.
I kept moving, though my arms and legs were leaden.
I dropped to hands and knees. The air was better close to the floor, and I sucked in a few shallow breaths.
I pulled with all my remaining strength despite the bright spots swirling at the edges of my vision.
I imagined Vee’s voice calling my name. Again and again.
Vee.
My thoughts turned sluggish. I was no longer confident I could reach the door. Not with him. But I didn’t leave him. My vision narrowed to a tunnel. Just a little bit more.
Mrs. Lund had rewarded me with a cookie in this very spot so many years ago. I’d told her a story. Made her laugh. I could almost hear her laugh now. But only smoke swirled between us and the door. Perhaps if I lay down next to Mr. Lund and rested for a moment…
A hand on my arm.
A flash of green.
Vee. In the fire.
She crawled over beside me. Together we dragged Mr. Lund the last few feet toward the door. She eased the load enough to make it possible. A few more steps. Then we were outside—stretched on the grass in front of the house, gulping fresh air.
She was soaking wet and smudged with ashes. Her long, damp hair hung about her face as she studied me.
I ached to wrap her in my arms but struggled just to fill my lungs.
She cupped my cheek. “Jacob. Are you all right?” When I nodded, she shifted toward Mr. Lund. The small smile that flashed on her soot-covered face was better than a whole field of green shoots rising from the black soil.
Mr. Lund lay beside us on the soggy ground. The cool rain and fresh air slowly revived him. He appeared uninjured. When his eyes opened and he took in the flames consuming his home, he sobbed quietly. Vee held his head on her lap, patted his graying hair, and murmured soft, soothing words.
Mr. Lund pushed up to sitting, head in his hands. “It’s over. Decided. I’m done here.”
In time, we helped him to his feet and hobbled together across the muddy farmyard toward the barn, coughing with the effort.
The fire had taken the entire roof of the house and most of two external walls, but flames no longer leapt to the sky.
Red embers glowed as the remaining structure smoldered.
The entire house would be ash by morning, but the barn was safe.
Inside the barn, Mr. Lund sat wrapped in a blanket on the back of his wagon and stared at the wall.
Vee moved into his line of sight and placed a hand on his shoulder. “What can we do?”
“After Rosie died. So lonely…” His shoulders straightened. “It’s time… I’ll go to my brother in Mason City.” He looked between us, covering her hand with his. “Bless you. You saved my life.”
He assured us he would wait out the storm in the barn and then head into town. The sky brightened on the western horizon as the sun dipped below the clouds.
I stepped out of the barn and turned toward the setting sun. Vee stepped close, leaning into me. She shivered. I wrapped my arm around her. We were both soaked and filthy, but at least the rain had stopped.
“I need to get you home.”
We picked our way down the muddy slope toward the creek. About halfway down, her shiver became a shudder. I paused to steady her, but she pushed me away.
Her lips trembled as she said, “I saw you. You ran straight into the burning house. Without stopping.” She hugged her arms around herself. “The entire roof caught with you inside. It was…” She shook her head. “I ran. Jumped the creek with my eyes closed. Came up the hill. But you hadn’t come out.”
Her words kicked at me. I reached for her, but she refused my comfort.
“I screamed and screamed, but you didn’t answer. I had to go in.” Her voice broke. “I was so scared?—”
“You were so brave. I’d almost given up hope, and then somehow you were there, and I knew we could do it together. I was scared, too, but I wouldn’t let him die in the fire because of my fear. Thank you. Thank you for saving us both.”
She gave a fierce glare. “Jacob Jensen, I did not crawl into that burning house for him. I went in for you. You wouldn’t leave him, and I wouldn’t leave you.
I only did what needed to be done. I’m not brave.
I’m terrified.” Her voice rose to a wail.
“Terrified of the lightning, of the fire, of what my memories will bring. Terrified of what is happening now. Between us.”
Standing at the edge of the creek, I opened my mouth but no words came out. I stepped close. This time she didn’t back away. Slowly, I cupped her face. Brushed back her hair. Kissed the top of her head. Then I held her gaze and let my fear show.
She pressed her cheek into my palm. “Jacob…”
I lowered my lips to hers for a slow, smoky kiss, salty with unshed tears. It was the only way to counter the fear, a promise rather than a demand.
She kissed me back.
After a long moment, I found my voice and whispered, “All will be well.” Though it tasted like a lie. This beautiful, vulnerable woman would soon be gone. It was terrifying.
A sizable branch swept past us in the roiling creek. The gap between the banks was wider, still jumpable, but more of a challenge. My makeshift bandages had long since fallen away from Vee’s hands, but nothing could be done. Not now.
I clasped her left hand firmly in mine. “We’ll have to run and leap. I won’t let go. Promise. Ready?”
We barreled down the slope, jumped as one, arced over the water, and landed cleanly on the other side, laughing. Glad to be alive. Glad to be together—at least for this moment.
We climbed the slope, hand in hand.
Familiar voices called our names. We rounded the hay shed and found Erik and Jo hurrying toward us. They whooped for joy when they spotted us.
Erik started in quickly, telling their side of the story. “The hay’s dry. Pa made us wait inside until the worst had passed. Said there was no sense in us running around like a bunch of chickens in the middle of a thunderstorm.”
I told our story as we turned toward home, leaving out the kissing parts.
I held firmly to Vee’s hand, our fingers interlaced, though her blisters must’ve been stinging something terrible.
I couldn’t stop glancing over at her, and when she returned my grin, all heaviness left my limbs. I could’ve run for miles.
As we rounded the last bend toward home, I began to whistle.
Come what may.