Fireman Dad by Betsy St. Amant

marriage had dimmed, how could she accept the fact that God was in control and that was that?
    “I don’t say it lightly,” Liz answered. She took the heavy box from Marissa’s arm, and offered a sympathetic smile. “Sometimes you have to let Someone else carry the burden.”
    Marissa felt useless without something to hold, and she quickly took the box back. “I get your point. Thanks.”
    Liz opened the door and ushered Marissa through. “You should come to church with us this Sunday. I really think Owen would love our kids’ ministry.”
    Church. Marissa closed the door behind them, stalling. Sunshine greeted her with a rush of warmth and she tilted her face to the blue sky above, wishing her fears could thaw as quickly as her skin. She hadn’t gone to a church service in years, but Liz was right—Owen would like it. He deserved a chance to grow up in Sunday school as Marissa had. But was it wrong to sit on the pew when her heart felt the way it did about God’s sovereignty? She chewed on her bottom lip as Liz waited patiently for an answer.
    Finally, Marissa nodded. “Okay. We’ll give it a try.” For Owen’s sake. She hoisted the box to her other hip as they began their trek to the streetlight post by the curb, feeling its weight grow heavier with every step.
    “What’s Sunday school?” Owen’s brow furrowed and his grip on his toy fire truck tightened. “I already go to school, Mom. I don’t want to go on the weekends, too.” Panic laced his voice from his position on the living room floor, and he sat back on his heels to look up at Marissa.
    Guilt pricked Marissa’s heart. Owen had gone to church with her many times as a toddler, but that was back when he went to the nursery room and she went to the service alone. Obviously he would have no recollection. “This isn’t like your real school, buddy. It’s church. You’ll get to learn a story from the Bible and do an art project and play with other kids.”
    Owen’s smile returned and he began pushing his truck on the floor. “That sounds cool. Why haven’t we been before?”
    “We used to go, before—” Marissa swallowed the rest of her sentence, not wanting to put either of them in a bad mood.
Before your dad died.
“Come on, buddy, it’s time for bed. Pj’s and teeth.” She watched to make sure Owen brushed all of his teeth and not just the front ones, then tucked him into bed, grateful he hadn’t inquired further about their lack of church attendance. She felt guilty enough already. “Sweet dreams.” She kissed his forehead.
    “Night, Mom.” Owen burrowed in his pillow, his red sheets pulled up to his ear. Then he popped upright. “Wait, I forgot my fire truck.”
    Marissa’s stomach tightened, wishing the symbol of thetruck didn’t mean so much to him—and wishing that it didn’t bother her so badly that it did. “It’s in the living room. You can get it tomorrow.” She couldn’t fight that battle tonight. Not again.
    “Mom—”
    “Owen, it’s late. No toys in bed.”
    He sighed, but didn’t protest as he nestled back against the sheets. Marissa turned on his night-light with a soft click, then shut his door halfway before collapsing in the living room chair with a sigh. She clicked on the late-night news, eager for a distraction from long-buried thoughts of Kevin, the fire department and church.
    No such luck. On the screen, flames licked the roof of a ten-story office complex in downtown Orchid Hill above a red banner announcing BREAKING NEWS. Marissa’s fingers clenched the remote control as the familiar adrenaline rush flooded her system. Even after Kevin had passed away, the panic remained automatic at seeing flames. She inhaled deeply, trying to distance herself from the report on the screen. Kevin was gone. Her dad didn’t work the front lines. She had no reason to be concerned for anyone’s safety anymore.
    Jacob.
    Her heart constricted, then thudded twice like a drumbeat. Was Jacob working this fire?