“Here?” He couldn't hide a smirk. “The Palmer Weekly?” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “That's not a paper.” He paced, then stopped. “Laurel, come with me—the two of us in Europe. It'll be fun.”
Laurel had imagined traveling the world with Adam, and for a fleeting moment, she thought it might be possible. Then she remembered her family, sweet Justin, and the farm. She'd just found a new home. This is where she belonged, not somewhere on the other side of the world. “Adam, I can't leave. My family needs me. And … and this is my home.”
Adam said nothing for a long while. “So, that's it then. I go back to England and you stay?”
“I guess so,” Laurel said, her heart heavy. Lord, there has to be a way, she anguished. Father, can I go? No matter how much she wanted to be with Adam, she found no peace in the idea of leaving. God had another plan for her.
The sound of laughter and singing carried through the window. “They must have started the bonfire,” Adam said morosely. Taking her hand, he said, “At least we can have one more evening together. My plane leaves tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Laurel said, careful not to look at Adam. She didn't want him to see her tears. “I have to go, Adam. I'm sorry. Good-bye.” She wrenched her hand out of his and ran from the barn, wishing she'd never met Adam Dunnavant.
Chapter Thirty
WILL SET HIS EMPTY COFFEE CUP ON THE COUNTER. “ARE YOU FEELING better?” he asked Laurel.
“I'm fine. I've just been a little tired.” Laurel added the cup to the dishes already piled in the sink.
“Did something happen at the dog sled races? You've been kind of quiet ever since.”
“No. Nothing,” Laurel lied. She didn't want to talk about Robert's possessiveness, and she certainly couldn't tell her father about what had happened with Adam.
Putting on his coat, Will hollered, “Come on Luke, we've got to milk the cows. We've been lazing around here long enough.” He pulled on his hat and gloves. “It's a cold one,” he said, kissing Jean and heading out the door.
Jean lifted Susie out of her highchair, and carrying the little girl on her hip, headed for the bedroom. At the same time, Luke raced through the kitchen, grabbing his coat and hat off the back porch before disappearing out the door.
“Slow down,” Jean called after him.
“He didn't hear you,” Laurel said with a grin, clearing the last of the breakfast dishes off the table. She watched Luke run to the barn and sighed, wishing she could have his high spirits. She'd felt gloomy since Adam had gone. She shuffled across the room, lifted a pot of hot water off the stove, and carried it to the sink where she added it to the cold water. Bubbles danced and burst.
Laurel picked up a dish and ran a washcloth over the egg-encrusted plate. Her mind wandered back to the kiss she and Adam had shared. For a moment it had seemed as if their life was as it should be, but to Adam, work was everything. Eventually he'll find out it isn't enough, she thought dismally, scrubbing the dish.
The back door flew open, and Luke ran inside. “Fire! There's a fire!” he yelled.
“Where?” Laurel asked, alarm pulsating through her.
“The Lundeen's place! Dad's already on his way!” Without bothering to close the door, Luke sprinted out.
“Mama!” Laurel shouted, dropping the plate back into the water. “The Lundeens' house is on fire! I'm going!” She didn't wait to see if her mother had heard. Stripping off her apron, she pulled on her boots and coat.
Susie in her arms, Jean ran into the room. “A fire?”
Laurel could hear Brian's steps on the stairway as he galloped down. “Where's a fire?”
“At the Lundeens'. I'm going.” Laurel hurried out the back door.
“Me too,” Brian said, following her.
“You wait for me,” Jean told Brian, then called after Laurel, “I'll be there just as soon as I can.”
Peering through the muted early morning light, Laurel headed for the gate, keeping her eyes on the smoke pouring out from beneath the Lundeen eaves. Her father and Luke, looking like hurdlers, had nearly made it across the pasture. She pushed on the gate, stopping just long enough to close it, then ran across the field. Pulling up her skirt, she plunged through deep snow, struggling to stay upright as her legs dropped through the crusted top and sank into white powder. Barely noticing the cold, she struggled to run faster. Smoke now billowed out a side window.
Will charged through the snow, Luke just behind him. When he reached the gate, he didn't stop to open it but catapulted over the top. Luke followed.
Cold seared Laurel's lungs, and her legs ached, but she kept going. Please, Father, let them be all right, she prayed, sorry that the last time she'd seen Robert she'd been angry. Too winded to climb over the gate, Laurel unlatched the bolt and pulled hard. Snow piled behind it, and she barely managed to open it enough to squeeze through. She sprinted the last few yards.
Patricia Lundeen stood in the driveway, her two girls clinging to her. Luke stood beside them. The girls were crying; Veronica hiccuped with each sob. No one else was in sight. Smoke rolled out the windows, and flames licked the rooftop.
Patricia glanced at Laurel; her eyes were tormented and sorrow-filled.
“Where're Daddy and Robert?” Laurel yelled, grabbing the woman's arm. “Where are they?”
Patricia looked at the house. “I told them to leave it, but they wouldn't listen.” She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. “He's inside. So is Robert. Your father went in to get him.”
“No!” Laurel ran to the house, but radiating heat forced her to stop at the front steps. “Daddy!” she screamed. “Daddy!”
A few moments later Will and Robert stumbled from around the side of the house. Blackened from soot, they staggered, coughing. Robert dropped to the frozen ground, resting on hands and knees and gulping in air. Still panting, he sat up, rested his arms on bent knees, and stared at the burning house. Anguish etched his face.
Will stayed on his feet but bent at the waist and coughed again and again.
“Daddy, are you all right?” Laurel asked, wrapping an arm around his waist.
Will nodded. Straightening, he stared at the burning home. “It'll just take …” He coughed. “A few minutes for … me to … get my breath.” He shook his head slowly. His eyes slid to Robert. “I'm sorry, son.”
Patricia kneeled beside her oldest and wrapped her arms around him. The girls joined them, and the four sat in the cold, weeping and holding each other.
Finally Veronica stood. “What are we going to do?” she asked, chewing on the end of her braid.
Joanna pushed herself to her feet and draped an arm around her younger sister.
