by Marta Perry
The only possible way out was to unhitch the mare and cling to her headstall. Without the weight of the buggy, they might be able to make it to shore.
Lydia moved closer to the landward side of the buggy. The water was turbulent, but not nearly as bad as on the other side. Remembering the rope Josiah had put in the buggy, she reached back to retrieve it, murmured a fervent prayer for help, and slid over the side.
The water was colder than she’d expected, taking her breath away. But her feet found a stable spot on the rocky bottom, and before she could lose her nerve, Lydia pulled herself along the side of the buggy to reach the mare.
Dolly turned her head at a touch, and if a horse’s gaze could express relief, hers did. Scolding herself for being fanciful at a time like this, Lydia felt her way along the harness, looking for the first buckle. Her fingers, numb in the cold water, brushed it, but before she could grasp it, the mare stumbled in a fresh onslaught as an uprooted bush hit the buggy.
“Easy, girl.” She clutched the harness, trying to shake away the water that splashed in her face. She would not let herself think of Mammi and Daad, of Josiah and the rest of the family. Nor of Simon, who shouldn’t be in her thoughts anyway. She had to move, and fast.
Clutching the buckle, she forced her fingers to obey her, struggling to stay upright against the force of the water. Finally the buckle opened. Praising the Lord, she moved forward. One more buckle, and she thought she’d be able to pull the mare free.
Fighting the current, she edged to the forward strap, her hand closing on it, but her numb fingers refused to do her bidding. She struggled, pulling at it. No breath to speak, none to cry out. In another minute—
“Lyddy!” The sound shot through her with a surge of hope. Pulling herself around, she saw Simon on the bank, his buggy behind him, nearer town. “Are you all right?”
“So far.” Silly question, she managed to think.
“I don’t have a rope. I’ll have to come in without—”
She managed to hold up the rope she’d slung over her shoulder.
“Gut girl. Tie one end to Dolly’s headstall and throw me the other. Can you do that?” He sounded perfectly calm, as if this happened every day. But that was always how Simon reacted in a crisis.
The realization that she was not alone sent a wave of energy through her. She threaded the rope through the headstall after a couple of tries before she looked back at Simon.
He’d turned his buggy so that it faced toward town, and now he came to the edge of the water, reaching out. “Throw me the rope now, Lyddy. You can do it.”
Could she? Her brief spurt of energy was nearly spent. She forced herself to lift her hand with the rope. It fell short, but in an instant Simon had lunged into the water and grabbed it. Moving fast, he fastened it to his buggy.
It was going to work. He’d be able to pull Dolly out, and she could cling to the mare and go with her.
And then she remembered that last buckle.
Her face was wet already. He wouldn’t notice the tears.
“It’s no good. I couldn’t get the harness free. She’ll never be able to get out with it dragging us down.”
Almost before she saw what he was doing, Simon charged into the water. Hanging on to the rope, he made short work of the distance between them, clasping her arm as he reached her. In his hand was a knife.
Not wasting words, she guided his hand to the right strap. A few moments’ work, and the strap was free.
“Hang on,” he muttered. Grabbing the headstall, he forced Dolly toward land.
The mare stumbled, shook and refused to move.
Simon looked at Lydia, and she knew what he was going to say—that they’d have to leave Dolly and use the rope to save themselves. Anguished, she grabbed the loose strap and swung it at Dolly’s headquarters. “Step up!”
She readied the strap for another strike, but with a convulsive movement Dolly lunged forward. Simon tugged, encouraged, urged her on, and all Lydia could do was drag herself along.
Every step seemed to take an hour, but finally she felt the road surface under her feet. Stumbling forward, she pulled herself on, falling headfirst on the road.
Dolly scrambled to safety, and Lyddy felt Simon’s arms around her, half carrying, half dragging her toward his buggy. He held her so close that she could feel the pounding of his heart and hear his ragged breathing in her ears.
And then she knew the truth—so clear and simple she should have seen it before. She loved Simon. In that moment it didn’t really matter that he felt nothing for her. She loved him.
CHAPTER NINE
Lydia struggled to gain control of herself as Simon lifted her into the buggy. Her teeth were chattering and her whole body shaking, but she was safe, thanks to Simon. Whatever else she did, she had to control her emotions. Anything else was unfair to him.
She huddled on the buggy seat, trying to force her brain to work. Were they really safe?
“Dolly…” she began.
Simon was quick to reassure her. “I’ll get her. You grab the lines and move ahead. We have to get clear before any more of the road washes out.”
They weren’t out of danger yet, then. Simon thrust the lines in her hands. She tried to grasp them, but she was shaking so badly she didn’t think she could.
Simon didn’t give her time to think. He slapped the gelding’s rump, clicking to him. The horse moved on, obviously eager to get away. Simon, now holding Dolly’s headstall, walked beside them. After a few yards he halted.
“We should be all right here. Let me tie Dolly properly and then we’ll go.”
Lydia gestured back the way she’d come. “My family…the buggy…”
Simon clasped her hand firmly as if to steady her. “We can’t get back. We’ll have to go on to town. There’s no way to save the buggy.”
She wanted to protest, but he was right. A look back told her there was no way to reach the buggy, not now. She watched as Simon secured Dolly to the back. He came quickly around to the front, pausing a moment to look up at her.
“All right?”
She managed to nod. She was alive, thanks to him. She couldn’t seem to find the words to say that, but he didn’t seem to expect it. The rain, still streaming down, flattened his clothing against him, and his face seemed stripped down to the bones, lean and strong.
He swung up to the buggy next to her, reaching into the back to pull out a blanket. “Put that around you. We’d best get to Aunt Bess’s and try to call our folks to let them know we’re unharmed.” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the thunder of rain on the buggy roof and the roar of the creek.
She nodded, grateful when he took the lines from her hands. Even as he clicked to the horse, they heard a crashing sound behind them and turned to see that another sizable portion of the road had collapsed. The rush of stones and broken concrete hit her buggy, and the next instant it had crumpled into itself and washed away.
A shudder went through her, and Simon drew the blanket around her, snuggling her against his side. She knew he was only doing it because she was shaking with cold, but she couldn’t deny the pleasure and comfort it gave her to feel him close to her—warm and solid in the midst of terror.
“We’ll not get back and forth that way very soon.” He pushed the gelding into a faster trot. “There’ll be a lot of damage in the valley. I’m just thankful I left Becky at home.”
“She’ll be safe there with your mamm.” She forced her voice to be steady, thinking of how upset her family would be, as well as Simon’s. “How did you come along at the right moment?”
Lydia realized she had to be feeling better if she could ask the question.
“I went in early and saw how bad it was, so Aunt Bess called your folks. Josiah was out near the phone shanty, so she told him you shouldn’t come. But you’d already left.”
So of course he’d set out to find her. Simon’s sense of responsibility wouldn’t let him do anything else.
“They’ll be worried,” she said, thinking of Josiah and his insistence that she turn back if it was bad. “Josiah will be angry that I didn’t turn back sooner.”
She felt him turn to look at her face.
“Don’t be ferhoodled. He’ll be too happy that you’re safe to think of that.”
“You don’t know Josiah,” she said, making him chuckle.
As the houses of town began to appear ahead of them, Simon pointed off to the right. Lost Creek came raging down the valley, ready to pour into the river. The lower end of town was perilously near to the stream, and as they drew closer, she saw water creeping across lawns toward the houses.
“It’s going to be bad, isn’t it?” Without thinking about what she was doing, Lydia clasped Simon’s arm, finding the strong muscles and warm skin under his sleeve reassuring.
“I’m afraid so. If it doesn’t stop soon, they’ll have to evacuate.”
She had time to murmur a fervent prayer for those in the path of the water, and then they were in town. Simon stopped by the side door of the coffee shop. “You go in. I’ll take care of the animals.”
Almost before he’d finished, a figure in a bright yellow slicker emerged and grabbed the gelding’s headstall. “I’ll take care of them. Go get dry.”
To her astonishment, Lydia saw that it was Frank Pierce. One of his coffee buddies was right behind him.
“You shouldn’t—” she began.
“We’re not so old as that yet,” he said, helping her down. “Get inside, the both of you.”
Simon hesitated, as if about to argue, but she shook her head slightly. Frank was right. This was looking like one of those times when everyone in town would have to pitch in, young or old.
Simon grasped her arm and hustled her inside, wet blanket and all.
Inside, the coffee shop was busy, but she didn’t have time to notice much more before Elizabeth was wrapping her arms around her. “Ach, thank the gut Lord you’re safe. Call your family right away. They’ll be frantic. Then we’ll find you something to change into.”
While she turned her attention to Simon, Lydia hurried into the kitchen and the telephone. Most Amish businesses in the area had either cell phones or landlines. Elizabeth declared that a cell phone was too complicated for her, and she was reluctant even to use the regular phone.
Mammi answered on the first ring—she must have been camped out in the phone shanty. “You’re all right?” she said immediately.
“I’m fine. Just wet. Simon had come looking for me. He got me and Dolly out, but the buggy…”
“Ach, don’t worry about the buggy, not so long as you’re safe.” Daad must have been crammed into the shanty with Mammi. “Is Josiah with you?”
“Josiah? No. Why would he…”
“He set off to find you when we heard you hadn’t made it to town. He hasn’t come back.”
That set up a whole new stream of worry that she knew her parents shared. “He’ll come back soon.” She tried to sound positive. “Or he’ll show up here. But the road is washed out, so he’ll not get a buggy through it.”
“Yah. We’ll call when he shows up. Or you call.” Her daad sounded as if he were trying just as hard as she was. “You’ll have to stay there.”
“Yah.” There was no question of that, and her teeth were beginning to chatter again. “I have to get these wet clothes off…”
“You do that.” Mammi had grabbed the phone again. “So long as you’re safe, praise God.”
They said goodbye without any last-minute additions, and she knew why. Neither of them wanted to talk until they knew that Josiah was safe.
Praying constantly, she took off her wet things, hanging them up to dry, and hurried into the clothes Elizabeth had laid out for her. A glance at the way the dress hung on her told her that she looked ridiculous, but that couldn’t be helped now. She tied an apron as snugly around her waist as she could and rushed back downstairs.
Now that she had time to look, she realized that the coffee shop was crowded not with customers but with people trying to help. They were making coffee and pouring it into thermoses as quickly as possible, while Elizabeth directed several women who were making sandwiches just as fast.
“What do you want me to do?” She touched Elizabeth’s arm, fearing she’d see strain on the elderly woman’s face, but Elizabeth seemed charged with the energy provided by an emergency.
“Start heating water on the gas stove,” Elizabeth said with an approving look at her. “If the electric goes off…” She stopped, looking at Lydia intently. “What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t hide it—she was too worried for that. “Josiah went out to look for me, but he hasn’t come back yet.”
“Josiah will be all right.” She hadn’t seen Simon come in, but there he was, like her, changed into dry clothes. “Josiah’s too wily to get himself into trouble.”
“Unlike me,” she muttered, wishing she’d turned back before she couldn’t. Still, if she had she’d be trapped at home, and this was where people needed help.
“Don’t worry,” he said, and clasped her hand briefly.
Pressing her lips together, she nodded. “I’d best get busy.”
She turned away, and as she did so, the back door opened. The figure that stamped in was as soaked as she had been, but he had a grin that split his face at the sight of her.
“Josiah!” She rushed to throw her arms around him. Thank You, Lord. Thank You.
* * *
Things started to move quickly after that. Thankful that some of his clothing was still in the storeroom, Simon found something for Josiah to wear, while Lydia called home with word that he’d arrived. Word started filtering in about flooding threatening the houses that stood with their backs to the creek on the edge of town.
Simon glanced at Josiah and saw that he was thinking the same thing he was. “They’ll need some help.”
Josiah grabbed his soaked rain jacket. “We’d better go.”
Lyddy caught him as he followed Josiah toward the door. “Where are you two going? You’re barely dry yet.”
“Don’t worry.” He couldn’t help but smile. “You look like a little girl dressing up in her mammi’s clothes.”
“Never mind that,” she said, her cheeks flushing. “What’s happening?”
“We’re going to help people in those houses down on the lower end of town.” He realized her gaze was following Josiah. “I’ll make sure he stays safe, and you look after Aunt Bess. Okay?”
She managed a smile, but her eyes were dark with concern. “I will. You’ll be careful, ain’t so?”
He nodded, and then escaped before he could consider whether any of her concern was for him. Foolish, he scolded himself. She’ll worry about anyone caught in the flooding.
The rain still drummed down fiercely as he hurried to catch up with Josiah, soaking into his jacket again. Josiah glanced at him, but if he was curious as to what his sister had to say, he didn’t ask.
“Hope they’ve got sandbags down there,” he said instead. “Not that I think it’ll do that much good.”
“Yah. Best thing we can do is probably get furniture moved up to the upper stories.” He’d always wondered why those folks in the flood-prone houses didn’t move, but he supposed it wasn’t as easy as that. Who would want to buy them?
Anyway, it was human nature to think it wouldn’t happen again. Until the next time.
They rounded the corner leading down to the lower street, and Simon caught his breath. “It’s worse than I thought.”
Josiah nodded. “The heaviest rain has been upstream of all those little runs that flow into Lost Creek. If it doesn’t slack off soon, it could be the worst we’ve ever seen.”
“What we saw was bad enough.” He relived those moments when he’d seen Lyddy out in the creek, battered by the water, hanging on to the mare.
“Yah.” Josiah’s face looked grim. “You want to tell me what happened?”
“When we get time. And you can tell me how you—”
“Look!” Josiah started to run, and he raced after him, realizing what he’d seen. An elderly man was struggling up the bank beside his house, pulling a trunk about as big as he was.
They reached him at the same time. “Here, we’ll take that. Can you make it up the bank yourself?”
White hair plastered in strands across his face, the man nodded. “Couldn’t leave it behind—pictures of our whole life in there. Don’t leave it.” He added anxiously as Josiah gave him a hand up the bank.
“We won’t,” Simon said quickly. He hefted one end and Josiah took the other. When they felt the weight, they exchanged looks.
“How did he get it that far?” Josiah said quietly. “He doesn’t look like he could get himself out.”
“Guess it’s a lifetime of memories. We’d best check the house.”
A police car pulled up in front of the house, and a young patrolman came scrambling to help, while an older man rushed inside. By the time they’d reached the sidewalk, he’d brought an equally elderly woman out, sheltering her under a rain poncho.
After a quick assessment of the situation, the older officer opened the back door of the patrol car. “I’ll run them up to the Presbyterian Church. They’re starting a shelter there. Porter, you get folks organized to move furniture and start sandbagging.”
“Yessir.” The young man looked gratified but a little scared.
As the police car pulled out, a town truck loaded with sandbags drew up. There was no way of driving any closer—they’d have to carry sandbags down the hill.
Other folks arrived to help—he saw Daniel King leading a group of Amish teenagers and a bunch of men coming from the lumberyard down the road. It seemed natural to team up with Josiah, and together they lugged sandbags and stacked them.
