She sniffed, then sniffed again.
It cannot be…
She sniffed again.
The acrid smell of burnt wood assaulted her nose.
Rebekah’s eyes flew open, her idyllic state replaced by a sudden, sheer panic. She sat up and turned to the window. Sure enough, black fingers of smoke curled past her window. She managed to stand up and get to the window. What she saw below brought horrific scenes from her family’s barn fire, the one that had claimed all her golden locks and almost her life, flooding back. Black smoke billowed from the open front door of their barn.
Last year, it was a lightning strike that had set her family’s barn ablaze. The newborn calf Buttermilk, the innocent baby cow that she’d just helped into the world, screeched in terror from inside. Her fater Samuel and her oldest bruder Jeremiah had fought the fire and evacuated most of the animals before she got out there to help. But the fire was too powerful, and it had consumed most of the barn. The screams of sweet, young Buttermilk, the calf who trusted her, were too much to be ignored.
Rebekah had dodged her fater and outrun her bruder and leaped into the burning barn in search of Buttermilk. Their cries, joined with those of her mother, had followed her inside. With a touch of divine mercy, she had found Buttermilk, terrified, tucked into the back part of the barn behind burning rafters and smoldering, soggy hay that was not as quick to burn.
Plucking up Buttermilk and holding her around her shoulders, Rebekah was on her way out when another beam collapsed. She’d become disoriented and turned asunder before she heard the yelling from outside.
Thankfully, Joseph was there. While her family huddled together and wept over her ultimate and obvious demise, Joseph all the while was trying to figure a way into the burning barn. He bellowed to her from the outside. That was what saved her life.
Her hair was on fire when Joseph broke through the wall of the flaming barn and pulled both her and Buttermilk to safety, but her life was spared.
She shook her head free of the old memories and stared at the window as their own barn spurted flames and belched smoke.
Joseph saved my life in Dat’s barn fire. What if he is hurt now?
What if he is unconscious in the barn?
What if the fire consumes the barn and comes for the house?
Then Joseph will burn up, and so will I. Her breath caught in her throat. So will Lil’ Bit.
Gotte, please let Thomas not be here. Let him be anywhere but here. But Joseph…he might need me.
Her legs wobbled. “Come on, Lil’ Bit. Your dat is in trouble.”
She managed her way down the stairs, all the way to the back door before she needed to stop and rest. Her five months of bed rest were evident with each aching step. Holding one hand under her belly, Rebekah opened the back door. At once, she was slapped in the face by billows of hot, gauzy, gray smoke that took her breath and refused to give it back.
She leaned against the handrail of the stairs and prayed. “Gotte, it feels like the fires of hell have taken over. Please…guide me to my mann if it be Your will.”
With newfound strength, she started across the hazy yard toward the barn. Smiley was there, scared but safe, in the corral near her buggy, but Buttermilk was nowhere to be seen. Oh no, she must be inside the barn. The air burned down her throat and into her lungs. Not again. She yanked her black covering from over her hair and dipped it into Smiley’s water trough. She gave it a squeeze and then held it over her nose and mouth. Coughing coming from inside the barn drew her there with ever quickening steps.
Joseph! Thank you, Gotte!
Sure enough, Joseph was there. With a singed towel, he was embroiled in a flaming battle with a mound of scorching hay. It appeared as though the battle was nearly won, with Joseph the victor, save for a few spurting fingers of red now and again. Black smoke rushed out of the busted barn window and doorway.
“Joseph.” Her face broke into planes of relief. “Joseph!”
Her mann whirled to face her, a scowl on his handsome face. He turned away even more quickly. “What are you doing here?” he shouted. “Get out of here!”
Her smile disappeared from under her damp covering. Joseph had never shouted at her before. “I, well…” A coughing fit broke her sentence in half. “Came to help you.” She listed against the barn door.
“You cannot be of any help to anyone here. This is not your job. Your job is to keep the bopplin safe.”
Thwack, thwack, thwack.
“My job is to keep you safe!” he bellowed.
“I…I…” Rebekah’s apology was broken again by coughing before it could pass her lips.
“Get out of here, Rebekah,” he yelled again. “Go now!”
Not one time through all the years she had known him had she heard Joseph speak to anyone in such a manner. Especially not her. Not once had he ever admonished or chastised her. Something crumpled in her as she retreated toward the house, her tail tucked like a scolded pup. A stabbing sensation in her stomach doubled her over, and she collapsed on the front steps.
Not daring to cry out for help, to her mann or anyone else, she crawled on all fours up the stairs. She managed to get as far as the living room couch where sleep was waiting for her. Half on the couch and half on the floor, Rebekah passed out from exhaustion before she had the chance to get too worked up over the terrifying, ripping pain that tore at her middle from the inside.
When Rebekah awoke, she was curled into the fetal position in her own bed as Elnora changed the bloody sheets from the mattress beneath her.
How did I get here?
Before she could ask that out loud, the recent memory of not seeing Buttermilk tied to her milking tether outside the burning barn filled her mind. “My cow?” she managed through a scratchy, smoky voice.
Elnora smiled. “That is who came to get me. Who told me you were in trouble.” She patted her daughter’s shoulder. “I think Buttermilk has had enough of barn fires for her young life.”
Rebekah tried to return her smile but grimaced instead. Something in her stomach twinged and pulled. She sucked in a breath. “Mater? What happened?”
“Joseph found you on the couch in the living room. You were bleeding quite heavily.” Elnora stilled her movements. “Jeremiah and I came to help with the barn fire. Joseph came in to check on you once we got it under control and that is where he found you, passed out. He feared you were dead. I have never seen my sohn-in-law in such a state of terror.”
Rebekah shuddered. “I did not mean to worry him. Or you and Jeremiah.”
“He was really in a state,” Elnora repeated. “Feared he had lost his wife, his child, and—”
“Wait.” A sudden thought burst out of Rebekah’s mouth. “Pa did not come?”
“No.” Elnora rolled her to the side and pulled the sheet out from under her. “Your fater is very, very sick.”
The memory of how he looked, gray and hunched over, trying to breathe, made her uneasy in a way she could not explain. If she were well herself, she could worry about him, take care of him, really have a hand in helping him get well. Instead, she could not even walk to the outhouse by herself. If only I could do more. “I am worried about him, Mamm.”
Elnora did not answer. She didn’t have to. The pained expression on her face said it all. “What happened that you came to be downstairs, draped over the couch, Rebekah?”
Rebekah thought back and tried to pick her way through her fuzzy memory. “There was a barn fire, it woke me up.”
Elnora grunted as she folded and straightened and otherwise made herself busy, just out of her daughter’s eyeline.
“I remembered fater’s barn fire. Joseph saved me. He did not give up on me. I thought he might need me to save him.” Joseph’s harsh words came rushing back to her in a frightful blast. “But now I know that was not the case. He did not need me for anything.” She spoke quickly, so her mother did not have a chance to ask anything further. “I do not remember anything after that other than crawling into the…”
Rebekah sat up on her elbow and glanced back at her mother. “Mamm?” Rebekah caught a glimpse of the blood-soaked sheet her mother held and the realization of what happened overtook Rebekah’s mind. “Mamm, oh Mamm.” Her voice cracked. “There is no more bopplin, is there?”
Elnora wadded the scarlet sheet and attempted to hide it behind her. “Only Gotte knows that, Dochder. Keep the faith and do not leave the bed,” Elnora stuffed another sunshine-crisp sheet beneath her. “Now roll back toward me.”
“I do not move at all from the bed?”
