Page 69 of If the Boot Fits

Samantha shook her head, humbled by her aunt’s faith. “You’re amazing.”

“No, sweetheart. I’ve just lived longer than you, that’s all. Experienced more hardships and witnessed God’s provision in the aftermath.” Her thumb rubbed the back of Samantha’s hand. “No one enjoys adversity, but nothing can draw a child of God closer to the Father. It is easier to rely on his strength when we’ve been weakened. Easier to trust his guidance when we know we are lost. Easier to seek his presence when pain makes us crave his comfort.

“God has promised to provide all we need, and his people are already heeding his call. Your uncle and I have been offered several places to stay over the next few days, and I have no doubt that we will have food to eat and clothes to wear.” She looked back toward the house. “And who knows what treasures might be found when we sort through the rubble? The Lord is so good about providing unexpected joys. Maybe we’ll uncover an undamaged photograph or an unbroken teapot.”

Samantha’s lips twitched as good humor began to restore itself in her spirit. “If anything is stubborn enough to survive a fire, it would be that ticking torture device you keep on the mantel.”

“My mother’s clock?” A laugh bubbled out of her aunt that brought an answering smile to Samantha’s heart. “I had no idea you disliked it so much.”

“Neither did I, until we were forced to keep company for so long.”

Samantha chuckled, and her aunt joined in, releasing the heartache and inviting optimism.

“That’s a sound I love to hear.”

Samantha turned toward her uncle’s voice and picked out the forms of three men heading their way. Asher led the group, his arm outstretched with a lantern to light their path. Her pulse fluttered at the sight of him. His gaze sought hers, and while a smile played at the corners of his mouth, the grave look in his eyes warned that the unpleasantness of the night was not yet over.

The men formed a circle of sorts—her uncle coming alongside her aunt, Asher positioning himself close to Samantha, and the sheriff closing the loop.

Asher set the lantern on the ground in the center of their gathering. When he straightened, he placed his hand at the small of her back, the touch soothing the nervousness that had sprung to life when Sheriff Jeter’s gaze latched on to her.

“Monty has a few questions for you, Samantha.” Uncle Obadiah tipped his head toward the lawman. “But he promised to keep the interview brief.”

Aunt Regina folded her arms over her chest. “Can’t this wait? She’s been through enough tonight.”

“With all due respect, ma’am,” the sheriff interrupted, “I’ve found it best to interview folks while things are fresh on their minds. The more time that passes, the fewer details tend to emerge.”

“But she’s exhausted. We all are.”

“It’s all right.” Samantha placed a hand on her aunt’s arm. “I don’t mind.”

She knew her aunt was just looking out for her, but in truth, she’d rather get the entire incident behind her now than have to dredge it all back up again in a few hours.

Asher’s hand settled at her waist. Warm. Steady. Supportive. “You sure?”

Samantha peered into his face and courage seeped into her bones, as if having him at her side was all she needed to be brave. “I’m sure.” She turned to the sheriff. “What questions do you have?”

“I understand you were the one who discovered the fire. Can you tell me where it started?”

Visions of flames leaping up from the center of her bed sent a shiver through her. Asher must have noticed, for he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and tugged her close to his side. His nearness banished the vulnerability the memory stirred and helped her find her voice.

“In my room. I had fallen asleep downstairs after doing some reading. I remember a crash of some sort that woke me. I thought my aunt or uncle had gotten up and dropped something as they fumbled around in the dark. I listened for a minute but didn’t hear anything else, so I laid down and drifted back to sleep. When I woke a short time later, I smelled smoke. I ran upstairs and found my bed on fire.”

Sheriff Jeter raised a brow. “Your bed? Not the curtains or the floor where a candle might have fallen?”

“No, sir, it was the bed. My window had been broken, and a bottle of some kind lay in the middle of the coverlet. I think . . .” Her forehead scrunched as she concentrated on the memory. “I think I smelled kerosene, though I’m not certain. All I know is that the bed coverings were completely engulfed in flames, and the fire had started climbing up the wall behind the headboard. The wallpaper was shriveled and curled into blackened bits.”

Her aunt made a strangled sound. “If you had put the journal away and gone to bed as I’d encouraged . . .”

“Praise God for his mercy,” Uncle Obadiah murmured as he wrapped an arm around his wife.

Asher’s hold on Samantha tightened, and she thought she felt a tremor pass through him. But maybe that had been her own shiver. Either way, she leaned into him, hoping to dispel the chill the memory induced.

“Well, that confirms that you were the target, not the Hopewells.”

The sheriff’s matter-of-fact comment did nothing to soothe her nerves, but his conclusion did not surprise her. She’d reached the same verdict hours ago.

“Mr. Ellis told me about the doors and shutters being fastened shut from the outside. The arsonist must have done that piece of work well after dark to avoid being seen. I’ll question the neighbors later today to see if anyone noticed a lantern bobbing around during the night. My guess is that everyone was in bed by the time he worked his mischief, but we might get lucky and find a witness.”