Free Trial by Fire by Terri Blackstock Page A

know why—with all the violent, hateful, malicious people in this world—why did he take Ben?”
    Nick met her eyes. He had always loved Susan. She had been a dynamo in the church, was always the encourager and the one to bring food when someone needed it, the one to baby-sit kids or take in a family who was down on their luck. She was always willing to give. Now she needed for someone to give back. He wished he had the answers for her. “God allowed this to happen for a reason,” he said. “We may never know why, Susan.”
    â€œDon’t matter why,” she said. “There was no reason good enough to get my baby shot through the head and left in a ragin’ fire to die. None! You hear me, Nick? And God and I won’t be on speakin’ terms till he convinces me otherwise.”
    She looked out the window again as tears rolled down her face. Nick dropped his eyes. Her child was gone and she couldn’t hear reason. There was no rationale, only questions that couldn’t be answered.

Chapter Thirteen
    N ick was silent all the way home, but Stan kept lecturing to him about the fact that Susan and Ray had been through trauma, and that their reaction was only temporary. But Nick would rather have them blame him than God.
    When they got to Nick’s trailer, he saw the arson inspector from Slidell across the street sifting through the rubble. Several of the firefighters were on fire watch, to make sure that nothing ignited into flames again. Several members of his congregation were sitting in a circle on the lawn, holding hands and praying. The sight didn’t evoke the usual paternal pride he felt when he saw his flock acting without him.
    â€œWhat are they praying for?” he asked in a dull voice.
    Stan shook his head. “There are a lot of things to pray for right now, Nick. Everybody feels real vulnerable. Our hearts are tender. Maybe this is just where God needs us to be.”
    Nick went in and watched from behind the screen door as Stan drove away. The trailer smelled like a celebration, with the different scents of lovingly cooked dishes. Ordinarily, he would have let the scents draw him and comfort him, but he had no appetite. And looking at those prayer warriors across the street, praying right out in the open, where anyone who drove by would see…that should stir the spirit in him. Were they praying for the people who had done this to their church? Were they praying for Ben’s killers? He hoped they were praying for Susan and Ray, or for him.
    But somehow he felt those prayers were falling on deaf ears.
    â€œHow does it glorify you, Lord,” he whispered, “to see our church in a heap of ashes? How does that work to the good of those who love you?”
    He closed and locked the door before anyone could cross the street to speak to him. He had nothing to say to them, nothing to give. Nothing at all.
    He sat down and tried to get comfortable. He realized that since the church was no more, maybe he was no longer a preacher. He didn’t have a funeral to preach, didn’t have a pulpit, and his library of books which he kept in his office in the church had been burned away.
    Every hope and dream had been consumed. And if Nick was no longer a preacher, then who was he? Maybe being a firefighter was enough. But the truth was that he had even been a failure at that. The irony overwhelmed him, that here he was a preacher and a firefighter, and his own church had been destroyed by fire.
    The doorbell rang, and he closed his eyes tight and decided not to answer it. He couldn’t see anyone right now. He couldn’t talk.
    His stomach told him it was lunchtime, so he ate a dinner roll. He was too tired to get up and serve a plate from one of the dishes in the kitchen. Sometimes a person needed to just lie there and stare at the ceiling. There seemed to be no alternative.
    He tried to nap for a while, but sleep wouldn’t come. When the phone