by Linda Ellen
Finally, Vic spouted, “Your name’s Louise…right?” at the same time that she stammered, “D…did you bring more people…?” They immediately chuckled together, making note of the other’s obvious shyness.
“You go ahead,” she offered, drawing her light blue sweater tighter around her chest as a gust of damp wind blew strands of her hair across her face. In spite of the havoc the rain and flood had made of their surroundings, the air seemed somehow fresh and clean, although heavy with moisture. She was glad it had temporarily stopped raining – and was secretly thrilled that he had actually remembered her name.
“No, you…”
Smiling, she swept the strands behind one ear and shook her head as she cast her eyes downward, so he went ahead and answered her question. “Yeah, we caught a few hours of sleep, got up at the crack of dawn and been rescuin’ people. Seems like nobody believed the water would get so high…nobody obeyed the order to evacuate before it did…”
At that, her eyes snapped up to meet his. Guiltily capturing her bottom lip between her teeth, she cringed. That was exactly what her family had done. He immediately realized his mistake and quickly put up a hand. “No offense…I didn’t mean nothin’. The water rose so fast, hundreds of people got stranded at work…”
“That’s okay…you’re right…” she admitted, still feeling a trifle embarrassed in spite of his qualification. “My dad kept saying the water wouldn’t get as high as it did…”
“And gettin’ higher by the minute,” he added with a grimace. Nodding toward the low side of the armory building, he intimated how much higher the waterline had risen since the night before.
Louise glanced that way, hunching her body as a shiver rifled through her. “My brother, Sonny…we don’t know where he is…he took off for downtown after we all got out of school, and we haven’t seen him since,” she confided.
Vic’s heart immediately went out to her, somehow absorbing some of her sadness. “Well, I can try to find out for ya…what’s his name…what’s he look like?”
She turned back, meeting his eyes in hopeful surprise. “His name is Joseph Hoskins. He’s sixteen, and he’s got sunshine blond hair. He sells newspapers…”
Warmed at her unique description of her brother, Vic felt ten feet tall from the look she was sending his way…as if he had suddenly become her knight in shining armor. With unwavering assurance, he promised, “Okay, I’ll keep an eye out.”
Louise wrapped her arms tighter around herself, glancing back at the door to the building. “Thank you…and thanks again for helping with my little brother…Mama and Daddy have enough to worry about…Mama’s been goin’ on and on about Sonny, plus she thinks looters are gonna break in and steal everything we’ve got since we had to leave behind…”
“Aww don’t worry none about that,” Vic interrupted. “I’ll go by your place and keep an eye on it – and somebody said the National Guard is comin’ to help out, too.”
Shaking her head in amazement, Louise murmured, “It’s all like a bad dream…I can’t believe the water…” She turned to glance again at the low side of the building, which truly resembled the large island mansions in Venice she had seen in newsreels at the movies. Louise had wished she could see them in person…but now, it didn’t seem so glamorous…
“Yeah, me neither. I bet we rescued…”
At that moment, his boat mate, Gerald, called from the vessel, “C’mon Vic! Time’s ‘a wastin’!”
Vic swung his head around, waving an arm at his friend. “Yeah, yeah! Comin’!” he groused, catching the other men of the four-man crew chortling at him and ribbing one another. Downright blushing, he turned back to Louise again.
As their eyes met, she huffed a small giggle as he cleared his throat and rolled his eyes. Awkwardly, they softly chuckled and began slowly backing away from one another.
“Well, I…”
“I guess I…”
Then Vic flashed his most charming smile her way; unknowingly making her heart jerk and her pulse speed up even faster. “You better get on back in there and get your own shots…”
With a laugh that seemed like sweet tinkling music to his ears, she backed up some more before answering, “I don’t have to – I took all those shots last summer so I could go camping.” With that, she pivoted on her heel and with a happy skip to her step, hurried toward the door.
Vic watched her pause at the door and glance back at him with a tiny wave, before disappearing inside.
Adjusting his wool cap more securely on his head, he shoved his cold hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Spinning around, he headed toward the waiting boat, his steps accompanied by a jaunty whistle.
Louise would have giggled if she had heard – he was whistling, I’ve Got You Under My Skin.
*
The river had continued its steady, unrelenting rise all night. After just a few hours respite that morning, the rain started up again in earnest around 10 AM. By that afternoon, the flood seemed truly like the days of Noah, with nothing but unending rain in the forecast. The volunteers manning the rescue boats would not have been a bit surprised to know that in a mere forty-eight hours, six full inches of rain fell on the already water-logged area.
Vic and his crewmates stayed on the job all day. They scarcely took the time to eat or escape the wet for warmth, as it seemed the radio at the command post continually crackled with another request of, ‘Send a boat to…’ Despite the fact that he kept so busy, Vic still wondered about the lovely Louise and her family… Had the boy taken the shots? Had the family been evacuated? However, each time his boat dropped off another load of frazzled, shell-shocked refugees at the armory, he had no chance find out.
Later, the guys in the crews of station B-13 would be shocked to discover that they had made more rescues at the peak of the flooding than any other rescue station – a staggering 200 refugees transported every hour. Boats of every size had been commandeered by the city and the Red Cross; a staggering four hundred powerboats operated by 700 volunteers – a good many of them based out of B-13. Those stalwart men made unremitting excursions to the ‘Venice’ that Louisville had so quickly become.
Thanks to the expert leadership of Doc Latham, the pastor of the First Lutheran Church, B-13 station immediately became organized and efficient. He commanded with the swagger and confidence of a general, perhaps due to the fact that he held a pilot’s license on the Great Lakes and a first mate’s license on ocean-going ships. Doc was good at a great many things – including judging character and recognizing leadership ability. These he saw in young Vic Matthews.
By the end of that marathon day, the 21st, Doc had realized that Matthews could be trusted to go the distance, no matter the odds, circumstances, or conditions. In the next few days, the commander was proven right time and again, as he watched the young man quickly grow into a responsible and on the-ball crew chief. More than once, Doc witnessed Vic encouraging his crewmates when the going got tough. He saw him going the extra mile to ensure the safety of the refugees in his care, and observed that the other men with whom Vic served just naturally seemed to respect him and follow his lead.
Though Vic wouldn’t think about it until much later, it seemed the Man upstairs had indeed heard his plea that rainy day, while sprawling so forlornly in the back booth of a White Castle – for a chance to prove his worth. And prove it, he did.
*
With her forehead resting against the cold damp glass of the train window, Louise gazed through the raindrops at the sodden landscape rushing by. The family had been allotted two seats in the passenger car, so she and Edna were sharing a space, with Billy perched on Louise’s lap. Lilly and Willis were seated directly across the aisle. They were on their way to the Dove Creek Country Club, located in another county.
With the drama of Billy and the typhoid shots…coupled with seeing Vic Matthews again and actually talking to him…standing in long lines with hundreds of other people for handouts from the Red Cross…and waitin
g for the decision of where they would be taken as refugees fleeing the inundated city, it had been quite an eventful morning.
The passenger car rocked gently as it rolled along. Packed in somewhat like sardines, the train car – equipped to carry forty passengers comfortably – was transporting fifty-five. The muffled sound of the wheels making contact with the metal tracks was not quite loud enough to drown out the nervous mumbling and occasional weeping of the other passengers. Families were being sent together to the far away club; a kindness appreciated by the refugees. Still, each family unit had its own set of worries – their homes and belongings…their friends back home…their jobs for those who were lucky enough to have them…and just the familiarity of their lives – would things ever be the same again?
Billy was quiet for once, absorbed in a borrowed copy of the comics page. Hugging her brother a little closer and turning her head, Louise glanced past Edna to their parents. Her father sat with his arms around their mother, her forehead snuggled against his neck. One of his large hands held hers consolingly to his chest as he whispered to her. The daughter knew, without having to hear the words, that Willis was comforting Lilly regarding Sonny. Their mother had been beside herself with worry over her boy, as no one had been able to tell them where he was or if he was all right. Lilly was the worrying kind. It was habitual, and one of the ways she showed her love. However, Louise knew in her heart that her brother could take care of himself.
For Louise, her mind seemed too full, packed with a confusing swirl of fear, excitement, dread, and expectation. What would this Dove Creek place be like? How long would they have to stay there? What was happening to their home and belongings? How deep was the water now – and would it get any higher? Her friends Fleet and Eleanor – were they and their families all right? Everything had happened so fast, and since very few people she knew had telephones, she had no idea what was going on in the lives of her friends. The Neighborhood House – was it under water? Would their lives ever get back to normal again?
But the main thought permeating all others…Vic Matthews. Would she see him again?
Returning her gaze to the landscape outside of the rain spattered window, Louise thought back to their departure from the relief station. Huddled under large black umbrellas, the family, along with roughly a dozen other people, had made their way out to a high-axle military transport vehicle. Gazing out the back flaps of the truck as they rode through the submerged streets toward the train station, it was as if they were sequestered inside a large canvas-covered gondola. Their travel mates ranged from the very poor to a well off couple with two children that complained about everything. But no matter their stations in life, all were treated the same, much to the delight of some and the chagrin of others. At least they had been given a passenger car to ride in; others had been relegated to boxcars and sent off to more distant destinations.
Just then, Louise caught a snippet of a conversation from the wealthy family.
“I’m still so angry at those two imbeciles,” the woman fumed.
“I know, dear. As they say, good help is hard to find these days,” the man returned.
“And the audacity of that one, telling me I couldn’t take my minks! I still want you to report them!” the wife added as she regaled the details regarding their overloaded rescue boat. How it had capsized and spilled the rescuers, themselves, and their belongings, into the cold dirty water. She was absolutely livid regarding the ‘clumsy’ volunteer crew. The passengers nearby flashed the ungrateful couple looks of disbelief and annoyance.
It appeared that the woman did not want to accept the fact that she had most likely been responsible for the accident, because she had insisted on taking too many possessions in the boat. Not only that, but clearly, she did not appreciate the efforts of the two-man volunteer team.
Louise immediately bristled at the woman’s tone and words, while wondering if it had been Vic’s crew…
She certainly hoped not, and shut her eyes to send up a heart-felt prayer for his safety.
*
Forty-five minutes later the train car shimmied, the wheels emitting a soft squeal as the engineer applied the brakes.
Louise and the rest of the passengers sucked in deep startled breaths, as they were jarred from the mesmerizing serenity of their own thoughts. The refugees began dazedly reaching for their belongings as the train slowed to glide into the station, knowing they had arrived at the small railroad terminal in Anchorage.
Emerging from the train car, they glanced around at their surroundings, which were, thankfully, sans dark murky water. Although it had been raining it felt more like a normal January day. The sun was even attempting to peek through a thin place in the clouds. Such a feeling of freedom this brought to the passengers! It was as if they had just been released from a long stint in prison. The very air seemed lighter and easier to breathe…
“Right this way, folks,” a voice called, prompting the emerging refugees to turn their heads. A small man with a round face and a jolly expression motioned from the window of a bus parked at the edge of the platform. “I’m gonna take the women and children out to the country club.”
“The women and children? But…” Lilly immediately blustered, turning toward Willis in near panic.
“Don’t worry ma’am,” the driver assured. “The men’ll be stayin’ right down the road at the Presbyterian church. They’ll visit every day,” he added kindly. The ladies, though not entirely happy at this prospect, nevertheless acceded to the inevitable.
The beleaguered travelers hoisted their meager belongings and trudged toward the waiting transport. The friendly man introduced himself as Jack Bayford, and informed them that he was one of the custodians at the club. As he pulled the bus away from the brick two-story depot, he chattered on about their accommodations.
“Now, the ladies of the local Presbyterian Church are already makin’ plans on how we’ll get you folks fed, and we’ve been workin’ on sleepin’ arrangements. Don’t you folks worry, we’ll take good care of you.”
Several of the travelers thanked him, as he went on, “So, is it really as bad as they say? Buildings under water, bridges washed out, people drownin’…?”
Willis spoke up from the family’s seats in the center of the bus. “We didn’t see any of that, though the water looked to be about four feet in our neighborhood. I haven’t heard of any drownings yet…”
“Well that’s good!” the animated man exclaimed. “Cause I was tellin’ my brother that they’re gonna have to rebuild the whole city at that rate!” Switching subjects as if he had turned a page in a book, he then launched into telling the refugees a little of the history of the country club.
Louise allowed her mind to wander, gazing out the bus windows at the landscape of gently rolling hills. Later, she would realize they had been passing the many golf courses of the country club’s massive grounds.
Finally, the bus turned into an entrance road and the passengers got a glimpse of their accommodations for the coming days – and none of them knew how long that would be. The clubhouse resembled a sprawling white brick mansion nestled in the midst of a stand of mature evergreen trees. Two massive stone chimneys rose through the steep, gray-shingled roof. Something about the structure seemed to exude gentle strength and security…
“Wow, look Edna…isn’t this beautiful?” Louise breathed as she took in the sight. She had never been privileged enough to stay anywhere so luxurious. Louise wasn’t alone, as the other passengers were uttering similar opinions. Even Edna murmured agreement that it was, indeed, a lovely place.
Soon, the driver pulled the conveyance up to the main front door and the weary women bid goodbye to their husbands and older sons.
Willis hugged the girls and Billy, before taking his wife into his arms for a comforting embrace. She held on tight, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his coat.
“Now, don’t worry. I’ll be over to see you tomorrow. For now, we just have to make the best of thin
gs,” he reassured, as all five Hoskins stood together for a final farewell. The calm patriarch added, “We’ll get through this. Come summer, we’ll look back on some of this and laugh, you’ll see.”
“I hope so…” Lilly murmured, her pale blue eyes seeking her husband’s reassurance.
He gave her one of his trademark winks and murmured, “Lilly girl, you know I keep my promises…” For a moment, years of privately shared memories passed between their locked gazes. Lilly’s eyes softened as she silently admitted that her wonderful husband always did keep his promises – no matter the personal cost.
With a quick kiss, Willis reluctantly disengaged from her embrace and re-boarded the bus with the other men.
The women were quickly ushered inside the club and out of the cold January wind by a man who introduced himself as C. L. Bearden, one of the club’s trustees. He was a tall man who carried with him an air of confidence, that of the privileged class. A bit eccentric, however, as evidenced by his fine, but somewhat worn clothing and handlebar mustache. He gave the impression of being of a bygone era.
“Come right in, ladies. We’ve been expecting you,” Bearden informed them as he led the group to a large room decorated a pleasant light green. Large lace-curtained French doors allowed a good amount of light to filter in. A massive stone fireplace, in which burned an invitingly cheery fire, took up a third of the interior wall. The women and small children immediately headed toward it, lugging their possessions. Several of the ladies, including Lilly, showed some displeasure that the beds they would be sleeping on were actually straw-filled mats on the floor.
“But…surely we will be afforded private rooms…” the wealthy woman immediately complained, her nose wrinkling at the sight of the mats. “…And beds.”
