Something Borrowed

Chapter 51

Amelia

If only she'd been strong, it all would have gone differently. She'd have hugged her husband to her. Fought his father off. Pleaded with the man she loved to stay. Reassured him that those cruel, lunatic ramblings were false.

But she wasn't strong. She was dizzy and weak, her throat aching and thick. She could barely draw a breath, let alone speak. She could barely keep her arms around Rebecca, let alone fight the old man. She couldn't even stand.

By the time her sluggish, air-starved brain finally caught up to Josh's absence, his father had him against the porch rail, screaming insults. By the time she managed to push Rebecca into Melissa's arms, the old man had fallen to his knees, begging and pleading. She rose, took a step forward, wavered, and sank to her knees, tears running in rivers down her grimy cheeks. And in that all-important moment, that was all she could manage--

She knelt in the snow and she cried.

She knew what he was seeing. Her silence-- endorsement. Her weakness-- loss. Her tears-- grief for the man she loved.

Only the last was accurate, and damn him for not knowing who it was she grieved.

His mouth thinned, his eyes went so blank he could have been the demon his father claimed, and Amelia's flailing heart went still in her chest.

"No!" she tried to cry as he turned away, but all that came out was a choked cough. "Josh, no!" she tried again, but her lungs seized and she collapsed in a paroxysm of hacking. When the world came back, Melissa was beside her, rubbing her back, and Josh was gone.

Amelia raised her blurry gaze to the house. Smoke billowed from every seam in the siding, rising in shifting black puffs overhead. Some windows showed the glow of flames, and the building was beginning to creak and groan in distress.

"It'll be alright," Melissa said. "It'll be okay. Josh'll get him out. They'll both be okay. You'll see."

Amelia wondered when her smart, practical friend had gotten so painfully stupid.

They were going to die.

Paralyzed by despair and physical weakness, she wavered there on her knees, her shins and feet going numb. There was no way Josh could find his way to Brent's room, let alone carry him back out. Not before choking to death on smoke. Not before that moaning, shifting roof collapsed and crushed him to death, burying him in embers and flames.

As if knowing she needed a reason to be strong, Melissa pressed Rebecca back into her arms. Amelia took her, stroking her hair as the little girl sniffled and hiccoughed into her breast. She wanted to wail herself, but she held it all inside. She bent over, burying her face in her daughter's hair.

Then she heard men yelling. The sound of shattering glass. She jerked her gaze up to see a group of men fall away from the bucket line, circling around to the side of the house. The line expanded seamlessly, filling the gaps they had left. Amelia had to fight for her feet, but this time she was strengthened. By fury. By hope. By Rebecca's need.

"Take her," she said, her voice a bare whisper as she passed Rebecca back to Melissa. The girl took her with a solemn nod, and Amelia staggered off toward the side of the house, following the gaggle of ranch hands. As she moved, a measure of strength returned to her wobbly legs. By the time she reached the house she was running. She ought to feel scandalized, standing amongst these rough men in her nightgown with her hair in a loose tumble down her back. Perhaps later, she would take the time to feel such frivolous emotions.

Standing at the back of the group, she craned her neck to follow their gazes. Glass rained down from the window high above, smoke billowing out. And then, praise God, Josh leaned out, looking down. He must not see her, because he only remained there for a moment, taking in the gathered men before ducking back inside. Long moments passed while Amelia held her breath and watched the flickering light of the flames in the empty window. Then a limp leg appeared, dangling out over the sill. Then another. A torso, shoulders, and a head. Brent's body, clad only in long underwear, hung over empty air, suspended by a length of sheet that was looped around his chest beneath his arms.