Valerie Hansen - Nightwatch

She almost let the answering machine take the call, then decided it might be important. “Hello?”

“You made it? You’re okay?”

He didn’t have to announce who he was. “Hi, Mitch. Yes, I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t you call me like you promised?”

“I was going to. I just walked in the door.”

“Oh.”

Sensing poignancy underlying his simple words her heart fell. “Did they find what you were afraid they would in the ashes?”

“We don’t know anything for sure. Nobody does. Since neither Rob nor Ellen have surfaced, we have to assume the worst.”

The sadness in his voice cut her to the quick. “I’m so sorry. I know you were close to the whole family.”

“Yeah.” She waited patiently while Mitch cleared his throat and prepared himself to go on. “I was just wondering about the kids. How are they doing?”

“Probably better than you and I are. Paul and Megan were sound asleep and Tim was only sniffling a little when the social worker finally showed up. She said she was going to take them straight to the county hospital to be checked out. I haven’t heard anything more.”

“Do you expect to?”

“Probably not tonight. I did put in a good word for myself, though. There’s a chance they’ll place the kids with me, at least temporarily, especially because I’m not fostering any other children right now.”

“That’s good news.”

Jill knew he was deeply concerned so she tried to sound reassuring. “I’ll stay in touch with the powers that be and make certain the kids are happy and well cared for no matter where they’re sent. I promise.” She smiled at the telephone as if it were Mitch’s friendly face. “We should be celebrating the fact you saved all three of them, not fretting about a system that’s only in place to keep them safe.”

She chose not to elaborate about some of the less than ideal foster situations she’d found herself in while growing up. Mitch already had enough to worry about. She wasn’t going to add to his burdens.

“How soon do you think we’ll know?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. A lot depends on whether or not their parents had made prior arrangements with relatives or close friends in case of emergencies.”

“You mean like choosing godparents?”

“Yes. Do you happen to know if they did?”

“Hmm. I don’t think so. The kids were never very keen on their aunt Natalie and their uncle Thad hasn’t been back in the States for very long, so I doubt they considered naming either of them as guardians.” He huffed. “Young parents expect to live long enough to see their children raised.”

“Yes, I suppose they do.” Starting to think about her husband’s untimely demise, she fell silent.

Sometimes it seemed as if that part of her past was little more than a dream; at other times pain pierced her all the way to her core. Lately, those uncomfortable moments had grown further and further apart and had hurt less. She supposed that was a good sign, although it meant that she was slowly forgetting the man she’d vowed to love and cherish for the rest of her days. That seemed wrong.

A softly spoken comment from Mitch brought her out of her reverie. Too bad she had no idea what he’d just said. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said take care of yourself. Get some rest.”

“You, too,” Jill told him. “You must be exhausted. It’s been a rough night.”

“I have had better. Thanks for taking over with Tim so I could go back to work. I didn’t dare let go of him. He wanted to run back inside to look for his folks.”

“I understand,” Jill said, recalling memorable parts of the evening. “What do you know about Natalie Stevens?”

“Not much. Why?”

“Because, like I told you, she sure wasn’t acting normal when I spoke with her.”

“People get irrational under severe stress,” Mitch said with conviction. “I’ve seen it happen over and over. They either deny that there’s been a tragedy or try to place the blame on others. It’s always tough. Especially when they show up on scene the way Natalie did.”

“I’m so sorry she took her anger out on you.”

“I have broad shoulders,” he said, but Jill could tell the woman’s unfair accusations had hit him hard. That, added to the fact that Mitch tended to blame himself whenever any task wasn’t accomplished to his high standards, would weigh heavily on him for a long, long time.

“God’s shoulders are even broader than yours,” Jill said, trying to sound kind as well as wise. “Don’t take too much on yourself.”

“I have a job to do.”

“I know. Since you keep telling me the Lord gave you that job, why can’t you believe He also trusts you to do it well?”

There was nothing but silence on the line for what seemed like forever. Finally, Mitch simply said, “Night, Jill. I have to go,” and hung up, leaving her staring at the receiver in disbelief.

She paused, then made a silly face. “Okay, mister, have it your way. Beat yourself up for every little thing, whether you really made a mistake or not. Be stubborn. See if I care.”

She shook her head, disgusted mostly with herself. She did care. For Mitch, for the children, for the traumatized family, for the whole town. This tragedy would affect practically all of them in some way.

Yet it was Mitch’s feelings that tugged the hardest at her heart. After all, he was a good friend and he faced danger often.

Picturing him as a victim instead of a rescuer, she suddenly experienced such a deep, personal sense of loss it made her literally ache.

The tears she had denied all evening returned and slid down her cheeks as she finally allowed herself to mourn for the lost—and for the survivors.

During a restless night, Jill had dreamed at least once of braving danger in order to save nameless, faceless children. By morning, she awoke feeling less rested than she had before the Pearson tragedy.

Coffee hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped it would, at least not so far. Refilling an enormous mug that had belonged to her husband, she took it with her and headed for the barn to begin her morning chores. There was nearly enough new spring grass to satisfy the few cattle she pastured but she still needed to be sure they had dry, baled hay to supplement their diet or they’d make themselves sick gorging on the fresh growth.

Shaggy, brown Mugsy danced along at her heels, his eagerness making her smile the way it always did. He was soon joined by her larger, black-and-white sheepdogs, Salt and Pepper.

Spring was clearly on the horizon. Slim buds were poking skyward from amid the thick daffodil foliage at the base of the well house and the forsythia bush was starting to look as if its drooping branches had been sprinkled with bright yellow confetti. Jill smiled contentedly. That was one of the perks of living on the old farm. There were often surprises popping out of the ground or bursting into bloom to cheer her just when she needed a lift. Flowers even appeared in the lawn sometimes, as if God had strewn the seeds there to bring more beauty into her life and remind her she was loved.

She was just coming out of the barn, still accompanied by Mugsy as well as the ranch dogs, when the ringing of the cell phone in her pocket startled her. She fumbled and slopped coffee in her haste to answer.

“Hello?”

“Jill. It’s me, Mitch.”

“You sound upset. What’s wrong?”

The moment he said, “They gave those poor kids to Natalie Stevens,” Jill understood completely.

“No way. How did that happen?”

“I heard she showed up at the hospital and claimed them. I’m headed over there now to get some answers.”