Nancy knocked on Mrs. Weaver’s door. “Ladies, we should make our way downstairs.” She didn’t wait for Mrs. Weaver’s invitation to enter the room. She found the two women sitting close to each other, far from the window. “I need to secure the shutters, and then I suggest we seek shelter in the pantry. I have a feeling, with the trees being uprooted, we may very well see damage done to the house. The pantry runs under the stairs and offers the most protection.”
“Goodness, it sounds like the end of the world out there,” Mrs. Weaver said, gathering a few things. Alma looked to her for instruction while Nancy secured the windows.
“There, that’s the best I can do here. Let’s go. Bring your coats in case we cannot make it back upstairs.”
“Why would we not be able to return?” Mrs. Weaver asked, her winkled brow furrowing even more.
“The trees are being uprooted, and we have several that could fall against the house. Come on, now. We must hurry.”
Virginia Weaver nodded and went to the coat tree, while Alma retrieved her things from the blanket box near the door. Nancy escorted the two ladies downstairs and made her way to the dining room. The wind’s roar made it difficult to hear anything, so she guided the women by hand signs. She grabbed the outdoor lantern as she passed the counter, then opened the door to the pantry.
Once they were inside, Nancy quickly realized there was no place to sit. “You ladies stay here, and I’ll grab a couple of dining room chairs.”
She stepped from the pantry as a tree in the backyard gave way and crashed against the house. A scream escaped her throat as her hand went to her abdomen. What in the world was going to happen to them?
“Are you all right, Nancy?” Mrs. Weaver asked from the pantry doorway.
She glanced back and nodded. “Get inside. A tree just hit the house.” She grabbed two chairs and dragged them back toward the pantry. Alma was there to take them in hand.
“You come on, now,” she said in an uncharacteristically bold manner. “There’s a little stool here. I can sit on it right fine.”
Nancy nodded and went into the pantry, pulling the door closed behind her. Mrs. Weaver had already lit the lantern. The shadows cast by the dim light were ghostly and ominous.
“We need to pray,” Mrs. Weaver said.
Nancy was still in shock. She sank onto the chair and nodded. Any words she might have offered were stuck in her throat.
“Father, we ask for your provision and protection,” Mrs. Weaver began. “There’s a mighty storm blowing around us. We have no idea what to do other than to hide away here. But we know that You know where we are and what we need. Father, help us now. Be our strong refuge in this time of trouble.”
“Amen,” Nancy managed to whisper.
It sounded like a war was going on outside, but Nancy comforted herself in the fact that the house was well built. Her first husband had insisted the place be constructed sparing no expense. He wanted the very best, and he oversaw the details to ensure everything was done to his standards. Hopefully that meant the house would be able to withstand the heavy winds, since there seemed to be no sign of them stopping anytime soon.
“Might we sing some hymns?” Mrs. Weaver asked. “I always find that settles my nerves.”
Nancy drew a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, I think that would be calming.”
“‘Behold what wondrous grace the Father has bestowed on sinners of a mortal race, to call them sons of God!’” Mrs. Weaver sang with surprising clarity, and Alma joined in with strong alto harmony. “‘’Tis no surprising thing that we should be unknown; the Jewish world knew not their King, God’s everlasting Son.’”
Nancy was unfamiliar with the song and contented herself with listening to the two women sing. She felt a surprising peace despite their situation and closed her eyes to pray for Seth and the others who were out there in the storm. She hugged her abdomen and imagined God hugging her close as well.
“‘If in my Father’s love I share a filial part, send down Thy Spirit like a dove, to rest upon my heart. We would no longer lie like slaves beneath the throne; my faith shall Abba, Father, cry, and thou the kindred own.’”
As the last notes faded, Alma took up the call. “‘Amazing grace, how sweet the sound.”
Nancy smiled at the familiar words and joined in to sing. “‘That saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found. ’Twas blind but now I see.’”
They continued to sing as the storm raged. As the minutes and then hours passed and still the storm held fast, Nancy’s spirit continued to calm. God truly was the only refuge and strength that would last. Her fine house and beautiful yard would be destroyed. If not in this storm, then in another or simply by time itself. Why did people worry so much and put such stock in their possessions? As the Bible said in Matthew sixteen, “For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?”
Even her concerns for Seth and the others diminished. No matter what happened, Nancy rested in the knowledge that God held the reins. It hadn’t been her first inclination, but as she sat and waited, she realized it was the only solution. Nothing else came even close to equaling God’s sovereignty and power. Just as He could bring such a storm in the first place, God could quell it. And through it all, He alone could bring peace to Nancy’s battered heart.
When his large office window shattered, Seth grabbed his coat and went in search of his employer, John Lincoln.
“John, I think we should seek shelter away from the windows. Something came smashing through mine. I didn’t even see what, but I have glass all over my office.”
“I heard the crash and was just coming to see what happened. I’ve lived here for over twenty years and never witnessed a storm like this. I thought it would pass, but this one seems determined to linger. I pray our wives are safe.”
Cyrus, their secretary, entered John’s office. He had several bloody scratches on his face. “The front window is gone.”
“Are you all right?” John asked, moving to his side. “You’re bleeding.”
“It was a large board—perhaps a sign or a post.” It was clear Cyrus was in shock.
“Let’s move down the interior hallway, well away from the front entry. There are no windows down there,” Seth suggested as the sound of debris hitting the building threatened more trouble.
John guided Cyrus, and Seth followed. There was little else they could do but seek protection and wait out the storm. Others who rented office space in the building soon joined them. Everyone wore the same look of confusion and surprise.
No one anticipated the storm lasting for four hours. It wasn’t until around two o’clock in the afternoon that the wind died down and the rain stopped. Seth had thought of nothing but Nancy the entire time, and now that there was at least a break in the storm, he intended to get home to his wife.
“I’m leaving,” he told John.
“Be careful. Things are certain to be a mess out there. Flooding and debris can create traps.”
Cyrus was more himself after John and Seth had seen to his cuts, but the younger man was still quite shaken. He said nothing as he huddled in the corner.
“Can you make it home on your own, Cyrus, or should I assist you?” Seth asked.
“I’ll be fine.” Cyrus shook his head. “I’ve never seen such a storm in all my life.”
“No one has, son.” John Lincoln touched his shoulder. “Come, we’ll head out together.”
Some of the other office workers led the way, and the trio followed, not exactly hesitant, but guarded at the thought of what they might find.
They stepped from the building and gazed at the destruction around them. Seth thought it looked as if a giant had stepped on many of the buildings. Windows were broken and roofs ripped off. Telephone and telegraph poles had been torn from the ground and plunged into the sides of some buildings, while others lay wrapped in their wires and twisted together with other debr
is.
“Gracious,” one of the other men said. “We had tornadoes in Kansas, but nothing like this. Nothing that lasted for hours on end.”
“I have no idea what the authorities will ask of us,” John said in disbelief. “Perhaps I should box up all the records and take them home. However, with the streets full of debris, I wouldn’t be able to get the carriage here for transport.”
“Why don’t you put the more important papers in the safe, and we can figure out the rest later? Look, the police are already out in force. They’ll no doubt keep looting to a minimum.” At least Seth hoped they would. Right now, however, there was probably more concern about injuries. That again reminded him of Nancy and the ladies at the boardinghouse. “I need to get home.”
He took off at a jog, doing his best to avoid the worst of the wreckage, but as he reached the more residential neighborhoods, he had to slow his pace considerably due to fallen trees strewn across the roads and yards. It was clear that the weeks of rain prior to the storm had weakened the ground. The trees had been pulled out as if they were rooted in sand.
People were starting to emerge from the houses. Many of the women were crying, and the men were doing their best to offer comfort. No one could figure out what had happened or what they were supposed to do now.
The sky overhead was still ominous, and from time to time the wind whipped with an ugly reminder of its power. Seth feared this was nothing more than a lull in the storm. He quickened his pace but found it impossible to hurry. There was just too much to overcome. Fallen trees were a considerable obstacle, especially the evergreens. Their branches were full, and it required great skill to pick a path through them. Seth found himself exhausted by the time he reached his own neighborhood.
When he turned onto his own street, a gasp escaped him. Trees were everywhere, and most of the houses were damaged either by those same trees or the wind’s relentless power. One beautiful Queen Anne house he’d often admired had been cut in half by a huge fir.
Seth picked his way through the branches of fallen trees, some of which didn’t even belong in his yard, to make his way to the front porch of the boardinghouse. A large white oak from the neighbor’s yard now stretched across the end of the porch. His breathing quickened and his heart picked up its pace.
He opened the front door and entered, calling Nancy’s name. He tried to ignore the dread that soured his stomach as he glanced around the sitting room. The front windows were undamaged, probably due to the porch’s protection. It gave him hope.
“Nancy!”
“We’re here!” she called back. “In the pantry.”
As he reached the dining room and then the kitchen, he found his wife and Mrs. Weaver emerging from the pantry. Alma followed them. Seth reached for his wife and pulled her close.
“Are you all right? Is the baby all right?”
“We’re both fine, as far as I can tell. What about you?” She looked up to search his face.
“I’m unharmed. The storm has destroyed a good deal of downtown. I wasn’t sure I could even get through. Trees are everywhere, along with telegraph poles.” Seth continued hugging Nancy. “Are you certain you’re all right?”
“I am. We were quite shaken by the storm, but then we prayed and sang hymns, and the time passed quite easily.” She smiled up at him. “We prayed especially for you. I was so worried.”
“Where are Faith and Clementine? And Mrs. Bryant?”
“I’ve been wondering about all of them. Faith left early—shortly after you—but I have no idea where she is. Clementine and Mimi should have been at the school, since classes have started again, although I don’t know what their situation is like. That school building is an older house. It might not have been strong enough to withstand the storm.”
Seth nodded. “Don’t fret. Worry won’t change a thing. I’ll go to the school after I check the damage to the house. I won’t leave you here if there’s a chance the place will collapse.” He sighed. “I’ll get to it now and then go check on the others.”
As much as he hated to leave her there, Seth made his way upstairs and went room by room to check for damage. He kept thinking of what he’d seen as he made his way home. What if Clementine had been injured or killed? No doubt there would be deaths. How would he ever tell their parents . . . or Gabe?
“God, please spare my family and friends from any harm.” He went to Clementine’s room first. The scent of her perfume brought a smile to his face. “Protect my sister, Lord. Please let her be all right.” Seth continued his search.
The shutters had kept the windows from shattering, and although one large tree had crashed against the house, there was only minimal damage, as far as he could see. Once he was outside, Seth could see there was a lot of pitting and exterior damage to the house, but it wasn’t anything that would keep them from being able to live there. Part of the porch had collapsed under the neighbor’s tree, but it didn’t look to threaten the house’s stability. The worst of damage was at the back of the house, as well as the carriage house. One of the larger trees had collapsed the south side of the carriage house. He managed to force his way through the mess to find that the horse was dead.
“Poor boy. You had no idea what hit you.” Seth knelt and stroked the animal’s head. Beams from the roof had crashed down on him, leaving him badly broken. Nancy would be saddened at the loss, but all the more so at the thought of his suffering.
Seth made his way back inside to find the three ladies taking a general inventory of the house.
“One of our bedroom windows is cracked and the windows in the office are broken,” Nancy told him. “I think that’s the most immediate problem.”
“The carriage house roof collapsed.” He shook his head. “Racer didn’t make it.”
“Oh no. Poor beast. Did he suffer?” She bit her lower lip.
“I don’t believe so. I think the initial collapse killed him instantly.” At least, that was what Seth prayed had happened. He hated to think of the horse struggling beneath the weight of the wreckage. “A tree fell against the back of the house. I need to figure out if it presents any immediate danger or if we can stay here without concern. For once I’m glad we don’t have natural gas. First, however, I need to check on Clementine.”
“And Mimi,” Mrs. Weaver declared.
“Yes, of course.” Seth gave the old woman a smile. “I’ll trust you to keep Nancy from doing anything foolish.”
Mrs. Weaver bobbed her head. “We will take care of her. Don’t you fret.”
Nancy reached out to touch her husband’s arm. “Seth, do you suppose the storm extended farther than Portland? Like . . . to Oregon City and our folks?”
“I doubt it. It was a bad storm, but I can’t imagine it was that widespread.”
She nodded, and the worry faded from her face. “We’ll get the glass cleaned up and see what else we can do.”
“Don’t cook anything or start any fires. I know it’s cold, but I need to make sure the chimneys and flues are working properly.”
“We will don extra clothes and wrap up in blankets if need be.” She stretched up and kissed his cheek.
Seth took hold of her and bent to kiss her on the mouth. He hadn’t realized how frightened he’d been for her and the baby, but now that he was assured of their safety, he realized just how harrowing the entire experience had been. And he didn’t yet know whether his sister was alive. He kissed Nancy again and held her for a long moment.
“Don’t overdo it. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
But before he could take up his hat, there was a knock at the front door. Seth opened it to find one of their neighbors, Mrs. Trent. She was pale, almost ashen.
“Can you come quick? It’s my George. I think he’s dying. His heart has attacked him, and I can’t wake him.”
There was no choice but to delay his plans. “Show me the way.”
CHAPTER 11
Faith opened her eyes and blinked several times. The surroundings were u
nfamiliar, but she was warm and felt safe. She felt a rocking motion and wondered at it. How could she be in a rocking bed? She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, a man was sitting beside her.
“Andrew?”
“Glad to have you back among the living. Or maybe I should say the conscious.”
She heard a pounding in her ears. Was that her own heartbeat? “What happened? Where am I?”
“You’re on the Morning Star in my quarters. You were hit in the head by debris. Do you remember anything?”
She closed her eyes again. “I remember the storm. There was a fierce wind and . . . yes, there was a lot of debris flying around.” She thought about it for a moment.
When she opened her eyes again, Andrew had moved. Now, instead of sitting on the bed beside her, he sat in a chair.
“I see you’re back again,” he said.
She shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
“You’ve been in and out of consciousness for nearly five hours now.”
“Five hours?” Faith tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness sent her back to the pillow. “What happened?”
“You were hit in the head with debris from the storm. Ben sewed you up. He said to tell you he put in four strong stitches.”
She touched the back of her head and felt a bandage. “Tell him I said thank you.”
“You can thank him yourself. He’s been here checking up on you every twenty minutes or so.”
“My family will be worried sick.”
“As soon as you’re up to it, I’ll get you home.”
“I can take myself. The cable car goes right to the corner.”
“The cable cars aren’t running. You don’t realize it, but our little storm destroyed most of Portland.”
“What?” Faith tried to comprehend what he was saying. “It was just some wind and rain.”
“A wind and rain that lasted four hours. The Army Signal Corps said the barometric pressure dropped to just about the lowest point they’d ever seen. It was like a hurricane. It tore out the telegraph and telephone lines, ripped off roofs, and tore buildings apart like so many matchstick figures.”
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