Tomorrow River

Chapter Thirty-four

The sound of sirens blaring through my dreams wakes me. And the smell of smoke.

A fire is raging, flames licking out of the roof and windows of the second most magnificent house in all of Rockbridge County.

Lilyfield is burning.

“Papa,” I scream out the car window. The heat from the blaze is toasting my cheeks when Curry pulls to a stop alongside Lee Road. He must’ve seen the billowing clouds of smoke from the foothills and headed right over here.

Mama yells, “Shenny, wait!” but I jump out of the car. Shout into the stunned crowd that’s standing helplessly by, some in their pajamas, “Did… did His Honor get out all right?”

“Yeah. I saw him talking to the sheriff,” someone in the crowd calls back.

Once I know that Papa is alive and well, I turn back to watch the worst blaze I have ever seen. I love Lilyfield, so I’m surprised to feel only a little distraught seeing it go up, the same way you would watching somebody else’s home. I know a lot of good things happened in this house, but I can’t hardly remember back that far.

When Woody, Mama, Sam, and Curry come to my side, we try to find a place amongst the other folks who’ve arrived to watch the firemen fighting the conflagration. The trees in the front woods have already burned so there is a clear view of the house. A couple of people say when they spot her, “Is that Evelyn Carmody?” and there is also worried speculation. “How could such an awful fire get started?” Someone else in the back of the throng-Mr. Slidell from the drugstore, I recognize his high-pitched voice-says, “Has anybody seen the twins?”

I call back to him, “We’re fine, Mr. Slidell,” because even though he’s such a crabby man, I am touched by his concern.

When E. J. hears my voice, like a homing pigeon, he flies to our sides. Following close behind him are Louise, Beezy, and a sooty-looking Mr. Cole Jackson. All three of them just about collapse when they see Woody and me and Mama. I think Mr. Cole might be in shock, the way he is shaking. “Evelyn… I prayed every single night for your return.”

Mama says, “Oh, Cole. It’s so good to see you,” and gives him a hug.

“How do, ma’am.” Lou steps up and introduces herself. “I heard a lot about ya. It’s Friday the thirteenth. Be careful.”

Lou has no way of knowing that it’s the luckiest day of my mother’s life.

Blind Beezy, who’s standing beside Mr. Cole, is wailing and waving her arms in the air. “Evie? Evie?”

Mama reaches for her, brings Beezy’s hands to her face so she can feel that it really is her. “It’s… so good to see you,” they say to each other.

Then Beezy must’ve heard Sam talking to one of the firemen who has just come away from the flames to get a cool drink, because she shouts out, “Sam? Sammy, is that you?”

Her boy comes over fast to pat her little back.

Beezy blubbers, “Curry came by the house to tell me what ya were tryin’ to do… but-”

Sam says, “It’s done now, Mama.”

As we are standing together listening to the snap and crackle as the fire destroys our home, E. J. belts his arm around my sister’s waist and pulls her close. He says to me, “I smelled the smoke and Papa told me to run over to the Calhouns’ and tell them to call the fire department. I knew you wasn’t up there ’cause Curry and Sam told me where ya was when they came and got Woody. I ran over the steppin’ stones fast as I could, told Lou, Beezy, and Mr. Cole ’bout your trip to the hospital, then I rushed to the tree with a bucket of water, but… it went up so fast. I’m sorry… the fort is gone.”

An ambulance comes careening down our driveway and behind it, two county cars. My uncle Blackie and grampa Gus are in the first car, my father in the following one. That must mean that Gramma Ruth Love got hurt in the fire and is being taken to the hospital.

When they drive past the crowd, Papa doesn’t notice his wife and girls staring along with the rest of the town. His eyes are closed. As I look at his handsome profile passing me by, still, no matter what he has done to me and Woody or even Mama, no matter how much he has hurt us, I have to grip on to Woody’s hand to keep myself from chasing the car down the road, stop myself from shouting out, “I still love you, Papa. I’m sorry your house is burning down.”