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  Sam took off. The flashing red-and-blue lights lit the outside world. He returned in less than a minute.

  “Hey, Sam, in here?”

  “Yes, but I gotta get the dog into the truck. He’s gone into guard mode.”

  “Maybe he’ll let Ginny get him out of there. Or we have a tranquilizer.”

  “Please, just go back to the truck. And tell the paramedics the same.”

  Ginny recognized the voice of the Fire Chief Adam Brunsfeld, one of their friends from church. Sam handed her the rope. She tied it through the collar loop and stood up. “Come on, Spook, there is nothing you can do here.” She tugged on the rope but he sank back on his haunches, front legs rigid. She cupped his furry face with both hands. “Come on, boy, we gotta let them do their work.” She stepped back. “Heel, Spook, heel now.” She tugged gently on the rope. “Heel, Spook.” She slapped her thigh and turned to walk away. Whining, Spook obeyed the command he’d learned so long ago.

  “Good boy. Come on. Come.” Tears streaming down her face, she led their dog out to the truck, opened the door, and ordered him in. Spook leaned back on his haunches again but, at another command, leaped up on the seat. She threw the leash in after him and slammed the door shut. The dog scratched at the door and set to howling again. The mournful cry made her stagger as she turned.

  “Adam, douse your lights or we’ll have chickens flying all over the place. Just bring the stretcher.” Sam spoke softly. “He’s been gone for a while.”

  “I have to check him.”

  “I know. But how about using flashlights?”

  Adam took his bag inside and knelt by the body. “Aw, Fred, it shouldn’t have been this way.”

  Ginny leaned against the wall outside, fighting to keep her knees from buckling.

  “You better sit down, Ginny.” Eva Donaldson, their only paramedic and female firefighter, wrapped an arm around her former Sunday school teacher. “Let me help you. Hey, bring a stool over here, quick.”

  Ginny leaned against her as if she had no choice. Even though the voice seemed to come from far away, the strong arm was right there.

  “Breathe, come on, breathe with me. In deep, exhale. Good, the stool is here. I’ll move you over a bit and sit you down. You with me?”

  Ginny nodded, or at least thought she did.

  “Good, now put your head down between your knees.”

  A gentle hand pressed against the back of her head. She could hear Spook howling, men talking in the chicken house. She breathed in and huffed out. “I think he’s been gone for some time. I hunted and hunted and I couldn’t find him. I should’a looked down here.”

  “Why should you have? Ginny, listen to me. You did everything right, you did all you could. Now just let us do our jobs.”

  Adam stepped out the door. “We got the call, a smoke alarm is going off at your house, Ginny. Did you leave something on the stove?”

  “Ah, no. Wait, the casserole in the oven.”

  “We better take the truck up there. Come on, Tim. Let the other crew take over.” He ran for the truck and started it up. Tim grabbed on the back and around the circle they went, back to the upper drive and to the house.

  “How many hours has it been in the oven?”

  “Since five. What time is it?”

  “Ten.”

  “How can it be? Please, Lord.” The darkness crept back in.

  “Head back down, easy, just breathe. Let them deal with the house.”

  Sam stopped beside them. “They need you in there. I’m here, Mom.” He leaned over and hugged her close.

  She could hear the tears in his voice and felt them dropping on her arm. She should be comforting him. She was his mother. The remaining fireman said out the door, “No flames, all smoke. They’re opening all the windows and tossed the baking pan out the back door. He just wanted you to know, Mrs. Clarkson, Sam. No fire.”

  “Thanks,” Sam answered. “Did you hear that, Mom?”

  She nodded. She could hear them moving the gurney, giving orders, all speaking softly.

  Sam stood, keeping one hand on her shoulder. She leaned into him. When the doors slammed, Eva came back and knelt beside her. “I’m going to take your blood pressure, don’t want you going out on me. How are you feeling right now?”

  “Still woozy but better, I think.” The cuff pinched and deflated slowly.

  “What’s your normal?”

  “Oh, between 120 and 130 over 75 to 80, I guess.”

  “You’re up but not dangerously so. Pulse high but not dangerously so.”

  “What will happen now?”

  “You have any history of strokes, heart, breathing problems?”

  “No, no, and asthma but not for a long time.”

  “Do you have an inhaler?”

  “Somewhere.”

  “Back to your question. We’ll take Fred to the hospital but there is no need for you to ride along. We will have some papers for you to sign in the morning. Do you have a funeral home that you prefer?”

  “I—I can’t think.” She clamped on to Sam’s hand. “I…”

  Sam said firmly, “I know where the papers are. Can we let you know in the morning?”

  Eva’s voice beside Ginny’s shoulder said, “Yes. Look, Ginny. I am going to let Sam take you up to the house. Oh, shoot, the smoke.”

  Sam replied, “The basement should be clear. We can use the bedroom down there.”

  Ginny warned, “You’re getting far away again.”

  “How can I help?” Pastor Mike loomed beside Sam.

  “Oh, good. I didn’t hear you drive up.” Eva kept her hand on Ginny’s other shoulder. “If you and Sam can take her up to lie down, I think that might be best.” She nudged Sam. “But if you see any change with your mom, you call, hear me? Even if she says no.” She squatted beside the stool. “You heard me, right?”

  Ginny nodded. “Long as I don’t have to walk up there.” She sucked in another breath. “We can go in the sliding glass door so no steps to climb.” Just talking took every bit of stamina she had left.

  “Come on, Eva,” the ambulance driver called. “We need to get back online. There’s an accident out near Bowers.”

  “Don’t worry about us, we’ll take care of things here.” Pastor Mike took charge.

  “Get some fluids in her.” Eva called from the ambulance. It roared away up the drive.

  Ginny tried to keep her eyes open but the tears seemed to have glued them shut.

  “Hang on here and I’ll bring my car close.”

  “Erica took the kids next door so she’ll be here any minute. I told her to go to the house and warned her about the smoke.”

  “Let Spook out of the truck.” Ginny felt woozy.

  “No, I’ll get you in Mike’s car and then drive the truck to the house and bring Spook inside.” He sniffed. “Anyone else you want me to call?”

  “I—I—sorry, I can’t think.”

  “That’s okay, Mom, we’ll take care of things.”

  Mike stepped in front of her. “Okay, me on one side, Sam on the other. Just let us help you.”

  “Did someone shut the chicken house door?”

  “I will,” Sam answered. “On three, we lift and we’ll let you get your feet under you. Unless you want me to carry you.”

  “Carry me? I don’t think so.” With total concentration, she managed to put one foot in front of the other and sank down on the car seat. Sam lifted her legs and swung her in. “I’ll be right up. At least you can’t fall down now.”

  She leaned her head against the seat back. “How did you know to come, Mike?”

  “Georgia called me. So did Erica. Said Sam was on his way over and 911 had been called.”

  “Oh.” She felt the uphill drive, turning the corner and stopping. It was as if she was sitting in the backseat, watching what was going on. Surely all this was happening to someone else. “When am I going to wake up from the nightmare?”

  His warm hand clasped her ice-cold one. T
he fog was creeping in again, dense and dirty.

  Chapter Nine

  If someone can give me a ride, I can spend the night with her and stay for however long she needs me,” Amalia said into the phone. She turned off her alarm clock.

  “Thank you, Amalia,” Pastor Mike replied. “I’ll be right in. Ginny is sleeping, and this will allow Sam and Erica to go back home.”

  “Good, I’ll be packed and meet you at the side. Thanks.” Amalia mopped at her tears again. She knew so well what Ginny was going through, even though her valley had been fifteen years ago when Aaron died. Although it was not unexpected since he was some years older than she, one can never be prepared. And for poor Ginny, there had been no preparation. Amalia dug out her small suitcase, folded in the things she would need for the next few days, and zipped it shut. She made sure her knitting and a couple of other projects were in her bag along with the necessary supplies, and she watered her plants well. Stacking Jehoshaphat’s food dish high, she told him, “I’ll ask Pastor Mike to make certain you’re fed. I’ll give him a key.” Who knew when she might be back? It all depended on how Ginny was doing.

  Earlier, she had called a friend in senior services to take over her senior-living-home chores and now, hat on head, she shut the door behind her, making sure the little sign on her door said GONE VISITING, so the woman who checked every door every day would not panic when she hadn’t turned her tag over.

  Dear Lord, she prayed, comfort all of us, but especially Ginny and her family. Fred will be sorely missed here on earth but I know You gave him a grand welcome up there. Then she thought, Bet he was surprised to go home so abruptly. Collapsed in the chicken house. I sure do hope it was a swift journey so he didn’t lie there and suffer—all by himself. Somehow I don’t think chickens count.

  When Pastor Mike pulled up to the curb, Amalia picked up her bag and case and, heaving a sigh, stepped outside. Automatically she checked her watch. One a.m. Good thing she was not one to sleep heavily or she might have missed the call.

  “Thank you for doing this.” Mike held the car door open for her.

  “I’m glad I can. My sister did the same for me when Aaron died. But that was a waiting game, not a blindsided surprise, or rather, a shock. Do they know the cause of death?”

  “Preliminary suggests a major heart attack that just dropped him.”

  “Poor Ginny, yay for Fred.”

  “I know. At times like this, if I didn’t believe there is more life after the body dies, I could not—”

  “He was your friend too, wasn’t he?”

  “Fred was everybody’s friend. If there was any way he could provide help, he did, to whoever needed it. And on top of that, he was just plain fun to be around.”

  “I can see and hear the angels and all the saints welcoming him home. What a party!”

  “And so we help Ginny and the kids through this.”

  “I know. Sure brings back lots of memories. So grateful we lived on the farm and there were so many things that had to be done.…I found that keeping real busy made grieving easier.”

  “She depended on him for so much, like he depended on her. What a pair they were.” They rode in silence, except that she asked for someone to look in on the cat. Already that cat was crippling her ability to just go.

  Pastor Mike assured her the cat would not pine away. He stopped the car at the path off the driveway. “You want me to carry that in for you?”

  Amalia smiled as she scooped up her bag. “No, thanks, you go on home and get the rest you need. Give that wife of yours a howdy from me.”

  “I will. She said to tell you, the coffeepot is always on.”

  “Thanks.” She shut the door behind her and walked the flagstone path to the patio and sliding glass doors. The upstairs was all dark. She tapped at the door and opened it before Sam could get there. She sniffed. “Is something burning?”

  “Not now. Mom had a casserole in the oven, and five hours later, the house was filled with smoke. The guys on the fire truck came up to check it out. Good old smoke alarm did the job.”

  “Ginny sleeping?”

  “Like a log. I hear so many people say they couldn’t sleep. I think she just crashed.”

  “That’s good.” She lifted her case. “Where shall I put this?”

  “They said to not use the upstairs until tomorrow when they set up some exhaust fans and the smoke should be cleared. The guest room down here has twin beds. Mom is on one, you take the other.”

  “I can sleep on a sofa or wherever.”

  “Why, when there is a perfectly good bed?”

  “Whatever. Are there any doctor’s orders for her or just take one minute at a time?”

  “Eva said to push fluids, so when she wakes up, hand her a glass of water. If there is any change, BP a bit elevated but understandably so, to call for help. You drive, right?”

  “Yes, I just opted to no longer have a car since I live right in the middle of town. My driver’s license is still current and I will probably maintain that. Good ID.”

  Erica stepped out of the room where Ginny slept. “No change. She’s not running a temp or anything.”

  “Okay, you two go on home and hug those twins of yours. They will sorely miss him.”

  “As will we all.” Sam shook his head. “I think I’m in about as great a shock as Mom is. And to find him like that. How horrible.” His sigh carried the weight of gallons of tears. “The chicken coop is locked up. I’ll be over in the morning to do the chores.”

  “If you need anything, call me.” Erica rubbed her forehead. “I hope the smoke doesn’t bother you. Oh, I put a bottled water by her bed. There are more in the fridge in her office.”

  “Thanks. Glad they caught it before the house ignited.”

  “I know, me too.” Sam slid open the door and ushered Erica ahead of him. “Night.”

  Amalia carried her case into the bedroom and set it on the chair. Spook thumped his tail from where he was stretched out alongside Ginny’s legs. His eyes begged her to leave him there, so she did. She had no idea if this was permissible behavior but too bad. Today was not a permissible day. They’d deal with that later. She changed in the bathroom and, after standing to watch Ginny in a log state, slipped under the covers. The smoke smell was not severe here but she could guess about the upstairs. Oh, well. If the fire department didn’t exhaust the upstairs, they could call one of the cleaning services in the morning to bring out their huge exhaust fans to clear the air. In reality, everything might need to be scrubbed down to free the house from the nose-biting odor. Knowing the horrors ahead of all the paperwork caused by a death, she figured she could run interference for her friend. Fred most likely had all the info in folders in one drawer of the file cabinet or, if there was a safe, some things in there. That was the way Fred did things.

  She drifted off with her usual adaptability, waking every time Ginny made a noise. Once she was sobbing in her sleep, but didn’t respond to any questions. At six, Spook wanted to go out, so Amalia slid the glass door open enough for him to leave and come back. Go back to bed or…Back to bed won out, but an insistent phone soon trumped it. Since it was now eight a.m., she grabbed it before it could ring again.

  “Morning, Amalia, everything still all right there?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, your mother’s still sleeping. What time do you plan to go to the hospital?”

  “I just called in that I won’t be at school today so that is next on my list. Eva said there would be papers to sign.”

  “There are always papers to sign. Mike is planning on being here about ten unless we call and set a different time. So you want to go to the hospital after that?”

  ‘That will be fine. By the way, I was over there early and did the chores so you needn’t worry about that.”

  “Thanks.” She clicked off the phone.

  “Sam?” Ginny’s voice was more croak than talk.

  “Yes, he said he did the outside chores early this morning. He’ll come back
in time for the meeting with Mike. If you tell me where the dog food is stored, I’ll feed this hungry beast and start some breakfast. You need help getting up?”

  “Why? I’m not an invalid.”

  “True. Just offering.”

  “What if I never want to get up again?”

  “Uh-huh, feels that way right now. You have quite a few messages on your phone. You want me to screen them?”

  “I don’t know. What I want doesn’t matter.” She paused, the back of one hand across her forehead. “I keep hoping I’ll wake up and this is all a horrid nightmare.”

  “If only we could set the clock back.” Amalia rose. “I’m coming, Spook.”

  Ginny croaked the instructions. “In the pantry, the tubs are marked. He gets a cup and a half of kibble, add warm water, and let it sit a few minutes before you give it to him. For some strange reason, I cannot make myself move.”

  “You can have a few more minutes. Holler if you need anything.” Amalia followed the dog bounding up the stairs. Instead of heading to the kitchen, he tore down the hall into their bedroom and came out, head and tail down.

  Amalia felt herself tear up. “You were hoping to find him, weren’t you, fella? I’m sorry. Come on, let’s find you some kind of treat. Peeuw, it stinks up here.”

  Spook made another round of checking every room and returned to wait by her side. When she set his dish on the floor, he ate some, made another round of the upstairs to check for Fred, finished his breakfast, and went to stand at the door to the garage. She watched when she let him out. He put his front feet on the car door, looked inside, did the same thing with the truck, and stood sniffing the air.

  Despair radiated off him in waves as he lay down on the concrete apron.

  “Yeah, I know just how you feel.” Amalia descended into the daylit basement and asked Ginny, “What would you like for breakfast?”

  Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ginny shook her head. Slowly, as if even that took more energy than she had. “I’m not hungry.”

  “I know. That’s not what I asked you. How about toast with cheese on it? Get some protein in you, or I will fix eggs any way you want them.”