Mountains of Grace Read online

  Again, Gott, are You listening?

  “Did you see Nora?” Christine shouted louder. “Or Juliette?”

  “Nee. I was at school.”

  “Stop screaming at each other.” A tiny thread of irritation wound its way through Mudder’s words. She never showed irritation. Another first in Mercy’s life. “It’s not seemly.”

  Seemly? “Sorry, Mudder.”

  She snapped the reins again. “I’m sorry too. I just want to get there. Is Leesa still behind us?”

  Mercy craned her head and looked back. Leesa and Hope waved in unison. “Still there.”

  “Gut. They need to keep up.” Still that brittle tone. “No time for dawdling.”

  No one dawdled. It simply wasn’t possible to move more quickly in a line of buggies, bicycles, and wagons.

  It took most of an hour to make it to the span bridge over Lake Koocanusa that connected West Kootenai to Highway 37 North, where they would travel back north to Rexford and then seven miles across to the valley where Eureka lay. The lake’s turquoise water sparkled in the early afternoon sun as it lapped against sandstone cliffs. The narrow bridge swayed slightly some three thousand feet above the satin blue-green water.

  A hundred memories crowded Mercy. Fishing for rainbow trout and salmon, splashing in the icy water, canoeing, bonfires and s’mores. Happy childhood memories soon to be scorched by fire.

  They started across. Sirens screamed in the distance, beyond the bridge, then grew louder, shattering the lovely lake peace. Mudder’s knuckles went white on the reins. Cocoa tossed her head and snorted. “Easy, girl.”

  The bridge jerked. It was the longest bridge in the state of Montana. The words so often said to the children during her Montana geography lessons repeated themselves in Mercy’s head. “What do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know. More fire trucks?” Mother shielded her eyes against the sun with her free hand. “The volunteer firefighters are already out there.”

  A second later a white Lincoln County pickup truck barreled toward them. No one ever went fast on the bridge. Partly because it was so narrow and partly because everyone liked to enjoy the view. The bridge rocked. Cocoa’s neck bucked. She whinnied and sidestepped. Mercy clung to the seat. “Mudder.”

  “Easy, Cocoa, easy. You’re okay.” Mother’s grip tightened on the reins.

  The truck roared past.

  “Sheriff Brody. He’s in a hurry.” Mother clucked. Cocoa’s gait quickened. “I hope your daed and bruders don’t dawdle.”

  “Daed never dawdles.”

  “Now would not be a gut time to start.”

  Mercy swiveled and craned her neck. Smoke rolled from the mountains high above her. Dark, black, and foreboding. A wall of orange flames licked at the treetops.

  Indeed, it would not.

  5

  Deputy Tim Trudeau didn’t bother to count to ten.

  “What the Sam Hill are you doing still here?” He stormed across the dirt and gravel that served as a driveway in front of the Knowleses’ sprawling ranch house to the spot where Juliette Knowles sprayed a greenhouse with a garden hose. “Evacuate means leave. Now.”

  Juliette turned. The hose came with her. Lukewarm water splattered his face and drenched his uniform. “Oops, I’m so sorry, Tim.” Giggling, she lowered the hose and turned off the water at the faucet. “I didn’t realize you were standing so close.”

  “You did too.” Tim sputtered and wiped at his face. Truth be told, the water cooled his sweaty face. He would never tell Juliette that. She needed no encouragement. “Get your rear in gear, woman.”

  Juliette’s studied nonchalance as she wrapped the hose around its plastic rack attached to the greenhouse’s outer wall threw fuel on Tim’s internal flames. He forced apart gritted teeth and breathed. “Juliette—”

  “Daddy’s still loading the trailer around back with equipment. We’re trying to soak everything we can. We’ve worked really hard to make our buildings fuel poor, but it might not be enough.”

  Removing trees in a fifty-yard radius around the house, raking leaves and needles, placing firewood piles away from the house, keeping the roof clear of debris—these were all ways the Forest Service recommended making homes more fire defensible for firefighters. But they were no guarantee when homes were built in forests prone to lightning-strike fires.

  “That’s all fine and dandy. Now skedaddle.” He plucked the last remaining feet of hose from her sun-glazed hands and slapped it on the rack. Juliette put those same shapely hands on her beautiful hips and scowled. He glowered in return. “And you did do that on purpose. Let’s go. I’ll give you a ride. It’ll give your mom and dad more room in their SUV.”

  “I’m not leaving until they do.” Juliette stomped in well-worn purple cowboy boots up the steps to the front porch. She whirled, crossed her arms, and stared him down. She might be all of five feet four inches tall, but she packed every inch with determined bravado. “Don’t you have other families to notify?”

  This skirmish had nothing to do with the fire or the evacuation and they both knew it.

  He stared up at the only woman he’d ever loved and took a breath. “I saved the best for last. We went to all the Amish families first since they didn’t get the Reverse 911 call. I knew you would be lollygagging behind and I’d have to throw you over my shoulder and hog-tie you to the grill of my truck.”

  “In your dreams.” She rolled her blue-green eyes and laughed. The laugh turned into a half sob. “Honestly, I’m grabbing my suitcase and we’re out of here in two shakes.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I know you love this place. God willing, it’ll still be here when you get back, but it’s out of your hands now. You gotta go.”

  She bounded down the stairs and hurled herself into his arms. “I can’t stand it.” The words were whispered into his tan uniform shirt, already wet with water and sweat and smudged with soot. Her long blonde curls smelled of spearmint-eucalyptus shampoo. Clean and fresh. “It’s their whole life.”

  “You and your sister are their whole lives.” He tightened his arms around her for a second, then eased her back. “Houses can be replaced. Children can’t.”

  “He’s right, baby girl.” Lyle Knowles shoved through the screen door and dragged out two enormous, battered suitcases. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Juliette’s mother, Casey, brought up the rear with two smaller suitcases. “You can take Juliette off our hands if you want.”

  The Knowleses had been surprisingly good with their daughter spending time with a law enforcement officer. Even if they found it confusing that most of the time was spent with family rather than typical dating. Watching football games with her dad. Going to the shooting range. Arguing politics and religion. His, not hers, since hers was almost nonexistent.

  “Mom, I want to help you—”

  “Just get in the man’s vehicle and go.” Lyle clomped down the steps and headed for the mammoth Suburban parked next to Tim’s F-150. “No time to argue.”

  An F-350 roared up the drive and halted within inches of Tim’s. “What the heck?”

  Tim’s boss, Sheriff Emmett Brody, stuck his head out the window. “You got folks who stayed behind?”

  “Yes, sir. Some of the Amish men are still packing equipment and setting up sprinklers, but their womenfolk are all out. I told them they had about a two-hour window.”

  “That window has closed. The wind has shifted.” Emmett gunned the engine. “Backtrack down Wilderness Trail. I’ll take Spring Creek Road.”

  “Got it.”

  Emmett took off without a backward glance.

  Tim whirled and sprinted to his truck. Hand on the door, he looked back. Juliette stumbled toward him. He met her halfway. One quick hug.

  “Be careful.” She touched his cheek with her warm, slim fingers. “Promise.”

  A thrill ran through Tim and he swallowed against the lump in his throat. The desire to kiss her and throw her in his truck blazed through him. Nope
. Not allowed. Friends didn’t act like that. He and Juliette were friends. “Promise. You too.”

  He raced back to the truck.

  “If anything happens to you, I’ll kill you.” Her words carried on the same windy gusts that brought the fire to their door. “That’s a promise.”

  “Right back at ’cha.” He tore down the road, but not without a backward glance. The Knowleses scattered to their vehicles, except for Juliette. She still stood staring after him, her face contorted with conflicting emotions. Ever a study in contradictions. Too complicated for a simple man in search of a simple life to be shared with a woman who wanted the same.

  What was he thinking? Giving his heart to her?

  “Make plans and watch God laugh.” His Nana Trudeau’s French-Canadian accent echoed in his head.

  Nana was never wrong. He stuck his arm through the window and waved.

  Juliette didn’t wave back. Stubborn to the end.

  6

  The man wanted to kiss her. That was obvious. But he refused to do it. Ignoring the rush of her family around her, Juliette tugged her cell phone from the pocket of her shorts and called him.

  “Juliette, I’m driving.”

  “You have Bluetooth.”

  “I’m on a mission to save lives.”

  “I know. I just wanted to tell you something.”

  “Get out of there. Now.”

  Her dad’s mammoth hand clamped down on her shoulder. “Jules, get off the phone. We have to go. Tim can take care of himself.”

  Dad knew how her mind worked better than anyone in the world, except Mom. Juliette lowered the phone to her heart. “Coming. Two seconds.” His hand released and she put the phone back to her ear. “One of us could die in the next few hours. You never know.”

  “Nobody’s gonna die. And if someone does, I hope it’s me.”

  Her knight in shining armor. A gentleman to the end. Which was why he’d never done more than kiss the top of her head like she was his little sister since she returned from Missoula with a communications degree and no job. “What kind of stupid thing is that to say?”

  “I’m saved. I know where I’m going. I’m not afraid to die.” Tim’s voice cracked. “You, on the other hand, God’s still working on.”

  Same song, fortieth verse. Pain burned through her stomach and throat. Had she remembered to eat this morning? It didn’t matter. Nothing assuaged this pain, her constant companion for years. “I love you.”

  “And I love you.” He stuttered the words. “You know I do.”

  “But I’m a heathen so the only way we can be together is if I get on the religion bandwagon?”

  “That’s not how I would put it. Nor is loving a man the reason a woman accepts Christ as her Savior.” His frustration gave the words a hard edge, unusual for an easygoing teddy bear. “This isn’t the time. You need to get your very lovely behind into the Suburban and go.”

  “I can’t commit to something that sounds like a fairy tale. You know what they say: If it sounds like it’s too good to be true, it probably is.”

  “You can’t commit, I know. You can’t even commit to staying in this area. Or to me.” His cough, followed by a gusty sneeze, reverberated in her ear. “Sorry about that. We’ll talk later. I promise.”

  He hung up before Juliette could protest.

  Cursing under her breath, she picked up her suitcase and stuck it on top of the others. She could commit. To a pair of purple, soft leather cowboy boots in a size seven and a half. To the gorgeous Appaloosa her dad gave her for her eighteenth birthday. To the University of Montana Grizzlies. To Chicago-style meat lovers’ pizza and her mom’s huckleberry pie. She committed to many things.

  So far, love had not been one of them. Not until Tim Trudeau stopped her on IH-37 one spring day two years ago and gave her a ticket for driving her Ford Ranger seventy miles an hour in a fifty-five zone. And another for passing in a no-passing zone. And another for having a brake light out. And another for an expired inspection sticker. A bouquet of costly infractions.

  They knew each other from high school, but Tim had metamorphosed into something quite different from that shy, bumbling football player who never knew what to do with his six-foot-five-inch two-hundred-pound body and who once vomited all over her lunch tray in the school cafeteria.

  The brawny hunk who stopped her on the highway was immune to her charms. Professional, kind, borderline sweet. But firm. No, he wouldn’t give her a warning. Her actions put others in danger. She deserved the tickets. Which charmed her, even though the last thing an unemployed would-be advertising agency account exec could afford was a moving violation. He even ma’amed her. Which only charmed her more.

  “Get in, baby girl.” Dad’s jaw bulged against his cheek. “Now.”

  Ignoring the pain in her gut, she tucked the phone in her pocket and climbed into the vehicle.

  “He does get under your skin, doesn’t he?” Mom pulled her seat belt tight and held on to the dashboard while Dad shot down the driveway and zipped onto the road without a backward glance. All the Knowleses drove too fast. With skill, but fast. “What’s the problem with you two? You dance around like two scorpions in a dangerous mating ritual.”

  “Mom!” Courtney slapped her hands over her ears and sang, “La-la-la-la-la-la-la.”

  Juliette stared out the window. Mom always did know exactly what was going on in her older daughter’s head. It bugged Juliette to no end. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing you want to tell me about, in other words.”

  Or Dad. He used to carry her on his shoulders into the Kootenai church when she was little. He gave her jelly beans when she was good and a smack on the behind when she was bad. He praised her for reciting her verses and critiqued her choice of wardrobe. Some of their biggest fights were over what she wore to youth group on Sunday afternoons.

  “God’s House deserves respect,” he roared.

  “God gave me this body, didn’t He?” she argued.

  “How about jeans and a nice T-shirt?” Mom, ever the peacemaker, would intervene.

  The show that repeated every Sunday afternoon until Juliette went on a youth group campout on Lake Koocanusa her junior year.

  Nope. Her brain did its own version of Courtney’s la-la-la-la with hands on its ears.

  Light receded into a pinpoint beam in a swirling dark world.

  She dug through her purse until her fingers wrapped around the remnants of a roll of antacids. Two left. She popped them in her mouth. The chalky taste gagged her.

  “Your stomach hurts again?” Courtney’s freckled nose wrinkled. “You eat those things like candy.”

  Juliette glared at her little sister. The last thing she needed was for Mom and Dad to be concerned about her gut in the middle of an evacuation. “It’s the garlic bread from supper last night, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.”

  “Fine. Crabby butt.” Courtney turned to stare out her window.

  No need to bite the girl’s head off. Stifling an apology, Juliette did the same.

  Garlic, onion, Mexican food, any spicy food she ate resulted in a steady burn.

  The story on loop in her head resumed of its own volition.

  No more youth group. No more church. No more God.

  More fights, more afternoons spent confined to her room, more tears, more dreams of being free.

  Until she was. No one ever mentioned how hard adulting could be. A person found out quite suddenly that adulting involved walking a high wire with no net.

  Like falling in love with a man who kept a copy of Martin Luther King Jr.’s The Measure of a Man in his glove compartment for light reading on his supper break. How did a woman compete with that?

  Or coming home to Mom and Dad and speaking those dreaded words. You were right. The worst punishment in the world for any child, but especially for Juliette. The last thing she ever wanted was to let them down.

  “There’s Caleb. Why is he still here?” Dad skidded to a stop and rolled down the
window. “Hey, Caleb, you better roll. The fire is moving faster than they expected. It’ll be here in the next hour.”

  “I’m making one last pass to make sure no one needs help.” Caleb’s horse tossed her head and whinnied, a high, tight sound. Her eyes rolled. She strained against the harness. “Easy, girl, easy. I’m worried about the Yoders.”

  “Let Emmett and his deputies make that pass. He came by and said to leave immediately. You need to get out.”

  Caleb shook his head. “You go first. I don’t want to hold you up.”

  “We’ve got room for you.”

  “I’m not leaving my horse.”

  “Understood.”

  They had moved their horses to a pasture on the other side of the lake a day earlier. Juliette leaned through her window. “Is Mercy still up here?”

  “No, the women and children went first, but Jonah and the boys were still here, last time I checked.”

  “Tim and Emmett will get them moving.”

  Caleb gestured toward the road. “Be safe.”

  “You too.”

  Juliette pushed the button to roll her window up, but she leaned her head against the glass so she could see in Dad’s side mirror. Caleb veered off on Spring Creek Road instead of following them.

  Checking on Mercy no doubt. The guy had it bad. Being turned down probably made it even worse. Guys were like that. They wanted what they couldn’t have. He was the right height for Mercy, who was tall for a woman. He was wide in the shoulders, narrow in the hips, and had sandy-blond hair, but for some reason Mercy couldn’t say yes.

  Which took guts for an Amish woman. Mercy liked Caleb, but she said she liked teaching more. Her expression said it was something more than that, but her Amish reticence kept her from spitting out the truth.

  Maybe it was because Caleb wasn’t much of a talker. Or because he was shy about the physical part. His smoldering expression suggested plenty of heat. Not that Mercy had much to say about that. She turned red as an heirloom tomato every time Juliette asked her about it. She was so cute.