For new readers, who may not have read my author notes, this is written in a conversational way as I talk to my deceased husband. When I refer to someone just as "you" this means I am addressing my husband, Evan.

After the fire and having spent one night in the crowded motel room with us, Carol and Glen managed to find another motel so they could have a decent night’s sleep. Instead of the belated Christmas celebrations we’d hoped to have with them, they spent time going back and forth to the house trying to find clothes that hadn’t been totally ruined by the fire. They paid many laundry and dry cleaning charges attempting to rid the smell of smoke and stains from clothes still wearable. The gifts we had for them under the tree, like most everything else, were ruined. They hadn’t anticipated their visit to be so expensive, and after doing what they could to help, they headed back to Georgia.

We were in the motel for another week before the insurance company found a house for us to rent. Our next-door neighbor ran an extension cord to our house so that our refrigerator could operate on his electricity and what food we had wouldn’t ruin.  Even on sunny days, going to the house meant entering with a flashlight because all the windows were black. We had to brace ourseleves for the odor of smoke and mildew that assailed our nostrils, and the spongy and squishy  feel of walking on wet carpet.

I called in to work and explained what had happened, and on the third day after the fire, I went in, not knowing quite what to expect. I wasn’t shocked that they had decided to terminate me, since I’d been away from work while in the hospital. It saved me having to quit the job. I knew I was needed at home to help get us back on track. Actually, I was relieved, assuming I could draw unemployment until we could get resettled. I filed with the unemployment office, and within the week,  I got a letter informing me that the claim had been denied, but that I had a right to an appeal.

I wrote a long letter explaining what had happened and the reason for the hospital visit. I also explained how, because the supervisor was upset with me being given permission to take three days of vacation in his absence, he had caused my problem to become worse by putting me in a work situation where I had to do heavy lifting.

When I went in for the hearing, I hadn’t expected my supervisor to be there. He had orders from the new company owner to make sure that no employee drew unemployment against the company. I was quaking in fear at the notion of having to verbalize my position to this tyrant. However, my letter was read aloud to him by the unemployment representative hearing the case. She said the company had decided to grant me unemployment, and he didn’t challenge it. He went back to the company having failed to keep me from getting it.
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It took a few days for us to realize what needed to be done in order to get us back into our house. Our insurance paid for the rental and for renting furniture. They would also cover expenses for a company to come in and clean away fire damage and rubble and for a salvage company to save and clean what was undamaged. It was our responsibility to contact these people.

We were able to have one bedroom suite and the piano refinished. The kitchen appliances just needed cleaning. Most of the dishes and kitchenware were fine. One of the most time-consuming tasks was listing 20 pages of everything we lost, including the age of the item and its approximate value. It was up to us as to how to go about restoring the house.

Don asked us if we would allow him to do the rebuilding. Since he wasn’t a licensed builder, we didn’t think that would be approved. He had gotten quite a bit of construction experience in the last couple of years, and it was starting to appear as if his career might be as a building contractor. This would look good on his resume.

We were surprised that the insurance company and the bank approved him to do the work as long as a building inspector would oversee the job. We were impressed that he seemed to know how to proceed and hire the needed carpenters and electricians. All of the interior had to be gutted, and new insulation and wiring would be necessary. The date we hoped to move back in was set for March first.
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Connie didn’t like to talk about the fire. She seemed very subdued and tended to be fearful.  We felt she had suffered enough, so we didn’t harass her about what had happened. However, she wasn’t through causing us stress and expense.

Shortly after moving into the rental, my car was sitting on the drive that sloped toward the street. I was coming from the house planning to take Connie shopping. She had taken my key and rushed out ahead of me and had gotten into the driver's seat. At ten, she was more interested in driving than any of our other kids had been. Occasionally, you allowed her to sit in your lap, start the car, and steer. On a level drive, there might not have been a problem, but she not only turned the key, she also threw the car out of gear. To my horror, I watched as it started rolling backward. An oncoming car was turning into the street in the path of our rolling car. I was too far away to do anything other than yell and gesture like a madwoman.

The driver of the oncoming vehicle must have seen me, or the rolling car. They quickly backed up and went down another street. Still, there was a parked car on the street. Our car crashed into the side of it. Thankfully, the car was not moving so fast that Connie was injured.

Nevertheless, there were repairs on two cars that we had to cover. We were advised not to report to our insurance company that a child was in the driver’s seat. Thus one more trauma was added to the growing list that our youngest daughter would have to live with.