by Marta Perry
“Getting worse fast,” Simon muttered as he hefted sandbags and handed them to Josiah, who piled them up along the bank. “Worse than where the road went out from under Lyddy.”
“Yah.” Josiah gasped a breath. “I shouldn’t have let her go. I should have stopped her.”
Simon grunted, lugging the bags that seemed heavier every second. “You think you could stop her?”
Josiah grinned at that. “No, probably not. My little sister has a mind of her own.”
An hour passed with everyone working at top speed, but Simon grew increasingly aware that they were losing. As fast as they added sandbags, the creek took them. There was no fighting the water. You could fight a fire, but not a flood. All you could do was save what you could.
The patrol car pulled up again, siren wailing. The patrolman hailed them. “Get out.” He swung his arm in a gesture. “It’s no use.”
“A few more…” Josiah said reaching for another sandbag, and then a rush of water hit, biting into the sandbags and nearly taking Josiah with them.
He teetered on the edge for a moment, trying to get his balance. Simon threw himself forward, grabbing his hand, and yanked him back to safety.
“Whew.” Josiah pounded his shoulder. “Gut thing you’re around to get the Stoltzfus family out of trouble.”
“Komm,” he ordered. “That cop is gesturing to us.”
They stumbled up the bank to where the young patrolman was gathering men together. “School bus stuck in the run out on Fisherdale Road. We’re needed.”
They piled into the car as fast as they could, one on top of the other, as the cop roared out into the street, siren wailing.
“Kinder,” someone murmured, and he knew they were all thinking the same thing. The Englisch school buses would be loaded with young ones trying to get home. Stuck in the run didn’t sound good.
The few minutes it took to get there were the longest Simon had spent in months. All he could manage was a silent, incoherent plea for the Lord’s help.
When they pulled up, they saw that others had made it there before them—neighbors, maybe, or passersby who’d rushed to help. Simon scrambled from the car, following the others to where the yellow school bus had skidded into the run. The water was coming up fast here, too.
They formed a line, holding on to each other. The water wasn’t deep, but it was fast—too fast even for adults to keep their footing easily. Once they had enough to reach the bus, the driver handed out one child at a time. The first man passed the child to the next. Stumbling for footing in the rocky bottom, he passed the child along, and by then more neighbors were waiting with blankets.
Simon took the little girl Josiah passed to him. The child couldn’t be much older than his Becky, and she was crying quietly, her little face wet with tears and rain. “No need to cry,” he said quietly. “You’ll soon be home and safe.”
She sniffled and nodded as he handed her to the next man, turning again to Josiah for another child. The water was getting higher, making it harder to maintain his balance, but the line of helpers never faltered.
Josiah worked steadily next to him, holding on to him as the current battered them. Simon had time to realize how many people he knew there. Amish and Englisch, he had grown up with them. He thought of the elderly man risking his life to save his family pictures. He understood. A lifetime was made up of memories, and Lost Creek was where all his memories had been formed.
For a second he wondered about Aunt Bess and Lyddy, but he knew what they’d be doing. They’d be helping their neighbors, doing their duty, just as everyone else was.
* * *
Lydia discovered that there was no time to think about Simon and what had happened to her feelings—and no time to worry about Simon and Josiah, either. She was far too busy for that. The bakeshop quickly became a center for folks to share information and to stop for a quick cup of coffee before rushing off to help someone else.
Elizabeth set Lydia to making urn after urn of coffee, sending some of it in insulated jugs by volunteers to people working in the hardest-hit areas. Frank appointed himself her helper, and he brought in a small radio that he tuned to the local radio station.
In other circumstances Elizabeth might have objected, but now she didn’t even seem to notice. Instead of music, the station switched to a continuous broadcast of news bulletins on the state of the flooding, fielding calls from people reporting on different areas, announcing road and bridge closings, warning people who had to evacuate, and broadcasting appeals for volunteers at the food bank and at the shelter that was rapidly being set up.
Frank, listening to a report of floodwaters going over a dam on Fishers Run, furrowed his brow. “That hasn’t happened as long as I can remember. And that’s a long time.”
“Maybe the rain will let up soon.” Lydia tried to find the most encouraging thing she could think of to say, but Frank just shook his head.
“All those streams and runs that empty into Lost Creek will still be pouring into the creek for a couple of days, even if it stops now. We’re in for worse before it gets better.”
As if to punctuate his words, the electricity flickered and went off. Lydia looked toward Elizabeth, noting the lines of tiredness drawing down her face. But it would do no good to tell her to rest. She’d never stop as long as she saw her duty in front of her.
“Get the water heating on the gas range,” Elizabeth said. “One of Frank’s friends has been drawing water, so we should be good for a time. And we may as well get everything out of the freezer. Whatever we can’t use we’ll send to the shelter.”
Lydia nodded and headed for the kitchen with Frank on her heels. He grabbed the kettles from her hands. “I’ll fill these. Maybe you should start on the freezer.”
“Denke. Get someone to help you with the kettles, though.”
There were plenty of willing hands now that there was something they could do, and in a few minutes the kitchen had filled with women making sandwiches to take to the shelter and thawing cakes and cookies for use.
Lydia moved quickly back and forth, helping and supervising. The day was so dark that without electricity it was hard to see what they were doing.
“We’ll soon be putting ham on the peanut butter sandwiches if we’re not careful,” she declared. “I’ll bring out some lights.”
Elizabeth would have several lamps in her apartment upstairs, and there were a few more in the pantry. She put them out on the counter and gave Frank and his friends a crash course in operating the gas lamps.
“Just like at my grandmother’s cottage when I was a little boy,” Frank declared after pumping one and seeing it start. “It’s a good thing you folks still have such things.”
Lydia smiled. People who depended on electricity sometimes didn’t know what they’d do without it. Elizabeth had electricity in the shop, because otherwise she couldn’t serve food, but once the shop was closed, she went back to the customary batteries and propane. Plenty of Amish businesspeople did the same balancing act every day, treading the line between modern convenience and living separately.
Lydia turned at the sound of a clatter at the back door, hoping it might be Josiah or Simon. Instead, it was Daniel Miller, who was now married to Lydia’s cousin Beth and owned a general store a little way from town.
“Daniel, what brings you here?”
Carrying an armful of boxes, Daniel was looking for a place to put them down, so she hurried to help him. The boxes were laden with groceries from canned food to coffee.
“When we heard how bad it’s getting, we loaded up what we could from the store.” Daniel straightened from putting a box on the floor, looking cheerful as usual despite the water dripping from him. “I have more in the wagon to take to the shelter, but I brought what I thought you could use here.”
“Wonderful gut.” The words hardly expressed the gratitude she
felt. “You’re okay out your way?”
“Fine. The field across the road is flooded, but that won’t get to us.”
“What about Beth and Noah?” Noah was her cousin’s five-year-old son.
He grinned. “Beth is baking up a storm. Emergencies affect her that way. Noah wanted to come with me, but I thought not this time, not knowing how bad the roads might be.”
“Give them my love.” To her surprise, her eyes welled with tears. “Denke.”
He shook his head, maybe a little embarrassed. “I brought you a couple of jugs of water from the spring, too. I’ll set them inside the back door. And I’ll try to bring more tomorrow.”
She was running out of words to thank him, but he didn’t wait for them, just hurried out to his buggy.
A couple of teenage girls who’d shown up to help started unloading the boxes, and Elizabeth came into the kitchen to see what was going on.
“Ach, people are sehr gut.”
“Yah.” She turned to the two girls, realizing how quickly time was passing. “Shouldn’t you two go home? Won’t your mothers be worried?”
The older one, brushing shoulder-length curls back from a pert face, shook her head. “When they dismissed school early, we thought we’d look for somebody to help. They chased us away from the creek, so we came here. I called my mom, and she’ll call Gina’s mom. We are helping, aren’t we?” She was suddenly anxious.
“You’re both a wonderful blessing,” Lydia said, touched, and they beamed.
The girls moved off to take cans of coffee to Frank and his helpers. Lydia exchanged smiles with Elizabeth. “A flood brings out the good in people,” she said.
Elizabeth nodded, but Lydia could see the signs of fatigue in her face and in the way her body drooped. Compassion gripped her. “Please, Elizabeth, go up and rest for a bit.”
She knew the answer even before Elizabeth shook her head. “Not now. There’s too much to do.”
“We have plenty of helpers,” she pointed out. “At least sit down here at the table and have some coffee and something to eat. It’s a long time since breakfast, and you’ll work better if you have some food in you.”
It was the only argument that would have worked, and Elizabeth pulled out a chair and slumped down heavily. “Guess that’s right.”
Once she’d put coffee and a sandwich in front of Elizabeth, Lydia walked out through the front to see if everything was all right. They had set up a separate stand with free coffee and food for volunteers, and she discovered that someone had put another cup out into which a man in a wet slicker and muddy boots was stuffing bills.
“You don’t need to—” she began.
He managed a smile, though his face was drawn with worry. “Cash I’ve got. It’s a house I’m worried about now.”
“I’m sorry.” She couldn’t find anything else to say.
“They’re trying to save it. I’d better get back.”
“Wait a minute.” She grabbed a paper bag and stuffed baked goods into it. “Take this for the workers.”
“Hey, thanks.” This time his smile looked more genuine. “Thanks.” He tilted his head. “Listen.”
“I don’t hear anything.” She didn’t know what he meant.
“Right. The rain is stopping.” He grinned, elated. “Maybe we’ll beat the water after all.”
Others had realized now, and people streamed out onto the front porch. Sure enough, the sky was starting to lighten a bit, and over the ridge she could see a patch of blue.
“Not over it yet,” a voice said in Lydia’s ear, and she smiled at Frank.
“No, but it’s encouraging, ain’t so?”
He was looking at the sky, not at her, and a smile spread across his face. “You think that’s encouraging? Look there.”
She followed the direction he was pointing, and her breath caught. There, over the ridge, the faintest of colors began to etch themselves on the sky. A rainbow arched across the valley, getting stronger by the moment. A hush seemed to grip those who were watching, and Lydia knew they were as moved as she was.
A rainbow—God’s promise that all would be right with the world. Just as it had been for Noah in the Scripture, it was a promise for them, too.
CHAPTER TEN
Sunlight streaming in the windows of Elizabeth’s apartment woke Lydia early, making her wonder where she was. Then yesterday’s events swept over her, and she swung herself out of bed. According to the clock, she’d had about three hours of sleep, but she was sure that was more than many people had on that frightening night.
The sound of coughing from Elizabeth’s bedroom made her pause and listen, but the sound was not repeated. It would not be surprising if Elizabeth had a relapse after the day she’d put in. With Simon’s assistance, she’d finally been able to persuade Elizabeth to get a few hours’ sleep.
Simon. For a second she relived the relief that had overwhelmed her when Simon and her brother had returned from their rescue work—grimy, soaked and exhausted, but going on some sort of adrenaline that had them talking and laughing at two in the morning.
Hurrying to dress in the clothes her cousin Beth had kindly sent in by way of Daniel on one of his trips, Lydia tried to arrange her thoughts to meet the challenges of the upcoming day. Without electricity and clean water, the town had seemed paralyzed yesterday, but folks would be bouncing back today. At least those who hadn’t suffered damage would.
But the water had continued to rise, and the last she’d heard before tumbling into bed was that they couldn’t expect a crest before early tomorrow morning. That meant another full day of losses and misery.
Well, as long as they had gas and water, they’d continue feeding people. And she’d better get started. Tiptoeing down the stairs, she looked around, trying to think of what to do first. Get some coffee started on the stove, she decided, and then see if she could sweep out some of the mud that had been tracked in.
Sweeping her way to the door, she stepped out into a sunlit early morning. It was surprisingly warm for the early hour, and the combination of sunlight and warmth couldn’t help lifting her spirits. Main Street looked much as usual, though there were few people out this early. She took a few steps to the corner and looked down the hill toward Lost Creek.
She gasped at the sight that met her eyes. The water had come up dramatically overnight, with several houses inundated up to the second floor. The area used last night to launch boats to take people out of the hazard zone was now under water, as well. But they’d gotten everyone out. That was the important thing.
She and Frank had trundled a wagon loaded with insulated jugs and sandwiches down the hill at some time during the night. They’d provided food and drink to anyone who needed it, rescued and rescuers alike. She’d still been there when the last couple of boats had come in, with Simon and Josiah helping bring them ashore.
“All clear,” the fire chief had called when he’d finished his sweep. “We even got the dogs and cats and canaries.” Like the others, he was somehow both exhausted and exhilarated.
A ragged cheer had broken out from those waiting as they hurried to help unload the last boats. Finally, when all was finished, they’d straggled back up the hill again.
Lydia stood there lost in memories until she heard a step and Simon moved next to her. He stood with her, looking down at what had once been a peaceful residential area overlooking the creek.
“Could be worse, I guess,” he said at last. “We got everyone out.”
She wanted to speak, to tell him how she admired his courage and dedication, the sense of responsibility that wouldn’t let him quit. But if she brought up so emotional a subject, she’d fall apart, and she couldn’t let herself do that. Simon was beginning to see her as a friend. She couldn’t ruin it by letting him see that she longed for more.
She cleared her throat. “Did you get some sleep
? And Josiah?”
Simon chuckled. “He’ll be along in a minute. The guys we were working with insisted on putting us up last night, and the last I saw Josiah, he was stowing away a huge breakfast.”
“Gut.”
“Yah. There’ll be more to do today. I heard they’re hoping for help from the county or state, but I doubt they’ll get trucks through today. Too many bridges down for that. Maybe tomorrow.”
“So we’ll get along the best we can, then,” she said. “Komm. The coffee should be ready by now.”
As he fell into step with her, she realized she hadn’t thought to ask an important question. “Have you heard from your Mamm? How is Becky?”
He frowned. “The phone lines are down in a couple of places. I couldn’t get through on a regular phone, but one of the guys had a cell phone he let me try. Mamm says they’re fine. They’ll try to bring water and food in today.”
“But the road…”
“The road will be closed awhile yet, but Daad says he and your daad think they can clear enough on the old railroad bed to get a pony cart through, if nothing bigger.”
Lydia couldn’t believe how encouraging it was to think that they wouldn’t be isolated from their families. “I hope Daad thinks to bring some of my clothes,” she said lightly. “Everything I have on is borrowed from my cousin Beth.”
He glanced at her. “Looks gut on you. Good thing Beth and Daniel are close enough to get back and forth.”
As they went inside, she realized he hadn’t really answered her question about Becky. Was that on purpose? She wasn’t sure, and she waited until they were both supplied with coffee to press the subject.
“How is Becky doing?” She tried to keep her voice casual, not wanting to earn one of his sharp rebukes for intruding into his private affairs.
Simon frowned, staring down into his cup as if looking for an answer there. “Mamm says she keeps asking about me. Last night she couldn’t go to sleep until Sarah took her into her bed. Mamm said Sarah told her stories until she fell asleep.”
