A New Friend

The fire hadn't left much of the interior of the building intact. Fallen roof beams, piles of crumbled drywall and shattered window glass lay everywhere. I sighed. The orphanage, as I had known it for several years, was no more.

Thankfully none of the children were hurt. They had woken up to the wailing of the smoke alarms and followed the adults out of the building until they were safely away from it. I could see them through what used to be a window, standing in their pajamas and nightdresses and looking at what used to be their home.

The smoke in the upstairs office wasn't bad. But the damage there was disheartening. Melted computers, printers, and telephones. Burnt paper records. Even the collection of photos of past and present orphans which had adorned the office walls lay on the floor, badly burned. Naomi wasn't going to be happy when she heard about it. She'd taken many of the photos herself.

Making my way across the chaos of the orphanage's ruined office, I saw something under a miraculously still-intact chair. Lifting the chair and laying it aside, I saw something that looked like a soft hat or maybe a pillow inside a shallow box lid. But when I poked at it, just to make sure, I heard a mew of complaint.

A cat looked up at me, as if wondering why I'd disturbed their nap.

What in the world was it doing here? Maybe it had crept into the orphanage before the fire? Or was the cat a pet, and someone had kept it hidden under their desk?

I knelt next to the box. “We need to get you out of here.”

As I lifted the box and held it in my arms, I heard other mews, higher-pitched than the cat's had been. The cat didn't look too pleased with me. One paw was raised at me, claws extended.

“Now, now,” I said. “I'm not going to hurt you or your kittens. Just be patient and we'll be out of here soon.”

The cat didn't seem convinced, but relaxed a little.

The floor was weakened by the fire and the water from the fire hoses. I could feel it creak and crack as I walked across it. Then suddenly a small part of the floor gave way under me and my left foot and lower leg went through an uneven opening.

Where was the box? I must've dropped it as I'd fallen. Then I saw it, a few feet away from me. Still intact. The box's occupants didn't sound happy about it, though.

A voice called from the doorway. I couldn't see them clearly through the smoke. Male? Or female?

“Are you okay?” they asked. “I thought I heard something collapse in there.”

“Don't come in,” I warned them. “The floor's weak. I just fell partway through it.”

They took one step into the remains of the office anyway, but even a floor section that close to the doorway was too weak. They quickly retreated.

“I'm going to get some help,” the unknown person said. “Stay where you are.”

As if I had a choice in the matter.

The cat looked over the top edge of the box, looked around herself, and then at me. Probably wondering if she should carry her kittens to safety or not. But she decided to stay where she was.

It felt like a long while before I finally heard booted footsteps climbing up the stairs. The stairs apparently were still strong enough. I also heard someone, or maybe more than one person, on the ground floor below me. Something was being moved into position there.

“You still okay?” the same unknown person called. “I've brought help.”

I nodded. “Not exactly comfortable, but I'll survive.”

“We're going to try to push your foot up through the opening,” they told me. “Then pull you over to where I am.”

“What do you need me to do?” I asked.

“Nothing right now,” they said.

“Suits me fine,” I said. “I'm not exactly going anywhere.”

I heard soft laughter.

And then I felt someone pushing up against the sole of my left foot. But it wouldn't go far enough. I was still stuck. Then I heard pieces of ceiling (to them; floorboard, to me) being removed. But they must've removed one piece too many. The part of the floor where I was trapped gave way completely and I fell. The box also fell through.

I narrowly missed a metal ladder and then someone caught me.

“Did they make it?” I asked, trying to see where the box was.

“You mean this box and its occupants?” another person asked me.

The fireman briefly tilted the box toward me so that I could see inside it, then held it upright again. “They're just fine. Are they yours?”

I shook my head. “I found them in the office upstairs. I don't know how they got in. Not that it matters anymore. I'm just glad they're safe.”

They checked my left leg and foot for any cuts or scrapes. As they did so, the rest of the firemen came down the stairs and entered the room.

“We need to evacuate you from the orphanage,” the firemen's leader said. “More of it is weakening. It could collapse at any moment.”

Thankfully we made it outside safely.

The children hurried over. I was glad to see that they were unharmed. Then the children noticed the box with the cat and her kittens inside it. You would've thought that it was Christmas morning, instead of midnight in June.

“Where'd they come from?” a boy asked me. It was either Joshua or his twin brother Simon.

I shrugged. “I found them upstairs, in the office.”

“Can we keep them?” the boy asked.

Normally I would've said “no”, but I figured that this called for an exception.

“Absolutely,” I said. “And if anyone disagrees, have them see me.”

The children cheered. They quickly named the cat Smoky and the kittens – nine of them – were named Samson, Leo, Izzy, Jasmine, Bert, Ernie, Charlotte, Violet, and Frankie.

The other adults joined us then. I briefly explained what had happened inside.

At first they didn't approve of my decision about Smoky and her kittens, but I managed to change their minds.

“Did you find anything intact?” Naomi asked me. She was “Coach” to the children. But she also sometimes helped in the office. She'd even started a weekly newsletter recently.

“Except for Smoky and her kittens, no,” I said. “Between the fire and the water from the fire hoses, almost everything was ruined or destroyed. One chair survived. I found the box with Smoky and her kittens underneath it. I'm sorry about your photos of the children. They were all badly burned.”

Naomi looked sad, but then she cheered up. “You did me a favor, though.”

“I did?” I asked.

“Because the old photos are gone for good, I can start taking new photos of the children,” she said and hugged me. “Thank you.”

I didn't expect the hug. Naomi usually didn't hug anyone, except children.

“You're welcome,” I said.

She just nodded and rejoined the other adults.

While the children knelt near the box and played with Smoky and her kittens, the adults stood apart as we conferred with each other. We stood because the grass was mostly wet and the nearest seats were at a table on the opposite side of the orphanage.

Naomi spoke first: “At least the children are all safe.”

“But they need somewhere to sleep,” Rebecca said. She was “Nurse Becky” to the children. “They can't camp out here. We have no tents or sleeping bags.”

One of the female firemen came over and said, “Actually you do. We take charitable donations at our firehouse all year long. We have auctions at least once a year, which helps support the firehouse. But a few days ago, a big moving truck arrived and the driver asked if they could donate a large amount of sleeping bags and tents. They used to belong to a children's camp that closed. I'm glad we said 'yes' to the donation.”

“Thank you for your generosity,” Rebecca told her. “It's a relief that at least they have somewhere temporary to sleep.” Then she sighed. “Tomorrow, however, will be a different story. We'll have to figure out what to do until the orphanage can be rebuilt.”

I nodded agreement. “Maybe there's a farm or youth hostel where the children could stay until then. We can start calling around in the morning,”

The female fireman said, “We'll go back to the firehouse and bring you the tents and sleeping bags. With everyone's help, we should have the children in their tents and sleeping bags in about an hour at most.”

And so, an hour later, I was sitting on a dry patch of grass, looking up at the night sky. Almost everyone was asleep. The firemen had all returned to the firehouse for the night. Or so I thought.

One of them approached and asked, “Mind if I join you?” One of the female firemen.

“Be my guest,” I said.

She sat down next to me. She was still wearing her fireman's fireproof coat and boots. Her hair was collar-length and very dark. “Quite a night.”

I nodded. “Indeed. Thank you for your help. All of you.”

She shrugged. “It's what we do.” Then smiled. “But it's not usually this exciting.”

“I really meant when you were in the doorway and I was partly trapped in the hole in the floor,” I said. “It was comforting knowing that help was coming. Thank you especially.”

She smiled. “You're welcome.” Then held her right hand to me. “I'm Olivia. Sometimes the guys at the firehouse call me Ollie.”

I shook her hand. I felt weak compared to her. “Which do you prefer?”

“Olivia,” she said.

“Hi, Olivia,” I said. “I'm Abdullah. You can call me Abe instead, if you prefer.”

“Which do you prefer?” she asked.

“Abdullah,” I said.

“Hi, Abdullah,” she said. “So – what happens next?”

“We try to raise the funds to rebuild the orphanage,” I said. “I don't know how that's going to happen. We're not exactly affluent. Maybe we can distribute fliers around town and see if anyone's feeling generous or set up a GoFundMe account.”

“What if someone held an auction and gave you the proceeds of it?” Olivia suggested.

“That would be amazingly generous,” I said. “Do you know anyone willing to do that?”

She nodded. “We could. It's definitely not the first time, either. We did it when a family lost their house to a natural gas explosion. They were left with nothing but the clothes on their back and not much in the bank. We decided to hold an auction to help them. It really helped. But in your case, you might need more than that. Maybe I could call some of the other firehouses in the area and see what they can do.”

“That would be a dream come true,” I said. “But it's really okay if they say they can't help. They need funds to keep their firehouses going, after all.”

“You just leave that up to me,” she said.

“I wish I knew how to repay you,” I said.

“You already did,” she said.

I glanced at her. “I did?”

Olivia nodded. “You said 'thank you'. What better payment is there?” She stood up and stretched. “I have to get back to the firehouse. I'll be back as soon as I can. Are you going to be okay sleeping out here?”

“I think so,” I said. “Will I see you in the morning? Any of you?”

“Call it a hunch,” she said with a smile. “Nice meeting you, Abdullah.”

“Likewise, Olivia,” I said.

She waved, and walked away. Soon after, I heard the sound of a car or truck starting up and driving off.

Amazing how working at an orphanage can feel so isolated most of the time, and then, when an emergency happens, you realize that the orphanage isn't isolated after all. People you never knew before offer not just their help, but also their friendship.

I laid down, using one arm as a makeshift pillow, and gave thanks to God. Soon after, I fell asleep.

When I woke up the next morning, my head wasn't lying on my arm anymore. It was lying on an actual pillow. And there was a blanket covering me, pulled up to my shoulders. I sat upright. Around me, things were already happening. Adults and children were teaming up, taking care of things. There were many adults, though, I'd never seen before, much less met.

“Come on, you lazy thing!” Olivia's voice called to me. “Get up! You're not going to just lie there all day, are you?”

I stared at her. She had a big grin on her face.

“I told you that I'd get you some help, didn't I?” she asked.

I nodded. “More – much more – than we could've hoped for.”

“Why don't you dust yourself off and join in, then?” she said.

I did so. I was about to fold my blanket, when a child ran over, helped me fold it, and then took the blanket and pillow to wherever temporary storage was located.

Flatbed trucks had already arrived, delivering new sections of walls, windows, and roof shingles. Carpenters, plumbers, electricians, and painters must have been busy since daybreak. They didn't sound like they minded the extra work on top of their day job. They sang, laughed, traded jokes, and clapped each other on the back.

Feeling like I was in a dream, I joined Olivia and she told me where I could help. I spent the day going from group to group, helping out. Work stopped for lunch, which turned out to be a picnic lunch like I'd never seen before. And, then, when dinner rolled around, dinner was even better than lunch had been. We ate around a bonfire.

True, the orphanage wouldn't be rebuilt in a day, anymore than ancient Rome had been. But another several days like this, and we would almost be back in business.

Smoky and her kittens tended to stay out of the way. Someone had even brought a cat-house for them, along with a large water dish and a large food dish. They happily moved in.

After dinner, one of the firemen – Nate, I think – came over to me and said, “If you think Ollie's impressive today, you should see her at the firehouse. She's a bundle of energy. I don't think we could manage it all if it weren't for her.”

“She's amazing,” I said.

“She sure is!” he said, clapped me on the back, and went back to what he had been doing.

Six days later, if you'd seen the orphanage the night of the fire, you wouldn't have believed your eyes.

We had a completely rebuilt orphanage (two floors like before – but with a new dormitory wing, which we hadn't had before), running water, electricity, phone lines, and even broadband internet connection. I was asked if we wanted cable TV as well, and – no doubt to the displeasure of those who'd wanted it – I said no. After all, the new orphanage library (where the old dormitory had been, which is which the new wing had been added) and the books donated to it would be more beneficial for everyone. Clothes? The local thrift stores donated so many clothes that we had to finally ask them to please stop, because we had more than enough now. We thanked them, like we thanked everyone who had helped us since the night of the fire.

On the seventh day, we decided, in good Biblical fashion, to celebrate the rebirth of the orphanage. An all-day picnic with outdoor games, followed by a dinner around a bonfire.

Olivia stood beside me, looking at the orphanage. She was dressed in a plaid button-down shirt, rolled-up jeans, and sneakers. I had to remind myself that she was still a fireman. For her, helping out at the orphanage was only temporary.

“Amazing what can happen when people join together and work for a mutual goal,” she said.

“I still can't believe it,” I said. “I've been upstairs to the new office and it's even better than the old one. I have only one regret, though.”

She looked at me. “Oh? Which is?”

“There are fewer children now than a week ago,” I said. “So many were adopted between then and now. And I'm finding that I miss them. Quite a bit.” I was going to miss Olivia, too. But I wasn't sure if I was ready to say that aloud just yet.

She smiled. “Don't worry. I'm sure that you'll have some new ones to replace them with soon enough.”

I nodded. “Thank you – for everything.”

Olivia gently punched me in the arm. “Anytime. That's what friends are for.”

“I wish you didn't have to go back to the firehouse,” I said.

“Actually I've been meaning to discuss that with you,” she said.

“Oh?” I said.

She nodded. “I asked the other firemen if it was okay if I worked full-time at the orphanage. They weren't too happy that I wanted to, though. I said I could still work at the firehouse part-time. That made them happier. Would that be okay with you, too?”

“Very much okay,” I said. “Again – thank you, Olivia.”

“You're welcome, Abdullah,” she said. “Want to roast some marshmallows with me?”

I nodded. “I'd love to.”