No Ordinary Day

by Polly Becks

  Mildred seemed slightly relieved. “I’ve got warm soup on the stove, and a pot of tea. What would you like?”

  “Soup sounds wonderful, thank you,” Lucy said. She could feel exhaustion hovering at the edges of her consciousness, preparing to shut her down. “And a bed. And a place to put my cat, if that’s OK.”

  “It’s more than OK,” said Mildred. “I love cats, as Eleanor probably told you. He can have Oscar’s bed. You’re in the room at the top of the stairs. Why don’t you take a nice shower and I’ll bring your meal upstairs?”

  Lucy looked at Ace, who was smiling, staring at the floor. “But I have to help bring my things inside.”

  “Nonsense. Your young man will do that. Give me the cat, and I’ll bring her up as soon as she’s seen where we keep the litter box. I have some cat treats in the pantry. I bet she’s had a rough day of it, poor kitty.”

  “Her name is Sadie. Thank you so much. And thank you, Ace.”

  She came to him, under the sharp gaze of Mrs. Caulfield, and kissed him goodnight. Their kiss deepened, although not as much as either of them would have liked since Lucy was still holding a bag of squirming cat.

  “What time are you off duty tomorrow?” she whispered.

  “Eight o’clock,” Ace whispered back.

  “You know where to find me.”

  Mrs. Caulfield cleared her throat.

  Both of them suppressed a snicker.

  “All right, I still like her, but I was wrong about she and I thinking alike,” Ace whispered humorously.

  Mildred cleared her throat again. “Give me the cat, dear, and up you go,” she said to Lucy. She turned to Ace. “This is a respectable house. We’ll see you tomorrow, I expect, during appropriate hours. You can just leave everything on the porch tonight.” She shooed him out and closed the door behind him.

  Then she took the pillowcase from Lucy and gestured pointedly toward the stairs.

  Lucy headed up, but she could still hear Ace chuckling quietly as he brought the pillowcases to the porch, then got in the car.

  She went to the window in her new temporary room in time to see the headlights turn on as the Jeep backed slowly out of the driveway onto the steep street overlooking the swollen lake and broken lower part of town, invisible in the dark.

  The car’s high beams flashed, looking for all the world like a wink.

  Lucy exhaled and watched until it was out of sight.

  Wondering if everything she had experienced on this extraordinary day had been a dream.

  Chapter 25

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  THE NEXT DAY, Saturday, as Ace had predicted, he was summoned to the Obergrande dam to assist the Army Corps of Engineers in making plans to unclog and bring the hundred-year-old structure back online.

  As he had noted at the Town Board meeting, the assessment he and the other engineers reached was that the simple spillway dam was crumbling in some places, insufficient to handle the flow of the Hudson that had increased enormously over the course of its lifetime.

  Something about the reports of the early details of the flood nagged at the back of Ace’s mind, something that did not add up entirely to him.

  But it was too soon be making decisions, or analyzing hunches yet, he decided, and told the other A.C.E. participants in the discussion. The river was still in flood stage, though it was ebbing. The catastrophic destruction had not even been fully investigated, let alone catalogued.

  All of the dead had not even been found.

  He had come that Saturday morning into a somber office in West Obergrande, an office that had received the news shortly before his arrival that the death toll was already over 175 and rising, something unheard of in the past. Each new story, each revelation, was more heartsickening than the one before. Ace began keeping a list of buildings that were going to need to be replaced or rebuilt, a list that grew longer by the hour.

  And everyone at the table knew that, until the final toll was taken, until the funerals and burials and every other state of mourning had been undertaken, they could only do band-aid engineering, as Colonel Genovese called it.

  The streets were still catching fire in places, power lines still falling down, sparking, sinkholes opening in the middle of roads.

  The conditions both in and around the flood zone were hazardous.

  Ace thought about the new acid that burned in his stomach when contemplating these conditions, a worry he had never experienced in these types of situations before. It actually surprised him how ill the whole realization of the instability of the flood zone made him.

  Until he realized what it was.

  Someone that he loved lived in this place.

  And therefore was threatened by it.

  Then, a moment after the realization came to him, a smile followed it.

  Because now he had someone that he loved.

  LUCY, LIKE THE other citizens of Obergrande, spent the day walking around in a fog for the most part, assisting in rescue efforts where she was qualified to do so, comforting people who had lost loved ones or who were still searching for them.

  Each time she ran into someone else who had survived was a joyful reunion, yet relief was not always present, because around every corner there seemed to be someone else she knew who was missing or dead.

  She came to the edge of the flood zone in the center of the village and looked to see which of the businesses had survived, and which had not, which were going to need renovation but would recover. She was relieved to see that her favorite street in town, Heavenly Street, was mostly intact, though damaged.

  Heavenly Street was so called because seven of the quaint stores along the avenue had the word ‘heaven’ in the title—Pancake Heaven, Sneaker Heaven, Knitter’s Heaven, the travel agency, Heaven on Earth, the candy store, Seventh Heaven, Hardware Heaven, and the liquor store at the end of the street known as Heaven Can Wait, all interspersed between the other shops. All the shops were closed now except for her favorite, Hardware Heaven, the door of which was standing open.

  Lucy had managed to remember to pack a sweater and had worn it into town that morning. She had worked up a head of steam on the walk down from High Street, the farthest place of Obergrande to still be part of what was considered the east side. She pulled the sweater more tightly around her, and carefully climbed the wet wooden steps up to Hardware Heaven.

  The proprietor of the store, John Grimes, was a long-beloved fixture to the people and especially the children of the town. His store contained virtually any houseware or dry good that was needed, as well as many things no one could ever recall seeing before. And he could always be counted upon to produce a stick of Wrigley’s Spearmint Gum if a child wanted one, as long as that child could locate him within the insanely crowded aisles of his store.

  Lucy knocked lightly on the glass window in the front door.

  A moment later, the tall, slim man appeared, wearing his work apron, carrying a mop. A slight smile came to his face.

  “Good morning, Lucy,” he said, leaning on the mop. “Glad to see you made it.”

  “You too,” she said sincerely. “That’s what I really came to find out.”

  Mr. Grimes nodded solemnly.

  “I had hoped to get to speak to you on the way out of the Town Board meeting the other night,” he said, drying up a few small pools of fetid water with the mop. “I thought your commentary was insightful and very well spoken. Thank you.”

  “Well, thank you,” she said, feeling awkward. “Was that really just the day before yesterday?”

  “It hardly seems possible, doesn’t it?” Mr. Grimes twisted the mop handle in his hands. “Odd, don’t you think, that the flood took down the very areas of town the Board was discussing drowning?”

  Lucy’s eyebrows drew together as silence thudded against her eardrums.

  “Well, yes,” she said after a long moment. “But, as impressive as they think they are, the Town Board can’t command the weather.”

  “No, no, they can’t,
can they?” said Mr. Grimes. “There are some who would think this is an act of God, endorsing their plan.”

  Lucy shuddered, feeling suddenly colder.

  “You—you don’t think that, do you, Mr. Grimes?”

  John Grimes smiled.

  “Goodness, no,” he said. “But I don’t think in this case He is necessarily on our side, either. Stay well, Lucy—look after yourself. I hope you will stay in Obergrande—in the Adirondacks. You’re a wonderful teacher, and a wonderful townsperson. Every special place needs special people to live in it. Have a good day—as good of one as is possible to have on a day like today.”

  He went back to mopping the floor.

  Lucy stood in the street for a few moments longer, watching him. She cast a glance up Heavenly Street at the beautiful little shops and restaurants, including Charlie’s on the corner, the place Glen Daniels had considered for their first date, all closed and dark now.

  Then turned around to make her way back to Tree Hill Park, the eastern half of which had been largely under water the day before.

  And was cheered to see that it was drying out.

  She looked up at Obergrande, standing tall and upright against the lightening clouds, its enormous trunk straight, the heavy limbs steady, the slender branches waving the spring leaves in patterns in the wind.

  The iconic tree under which historic events had occurred.

  Where treaties of peace had been signed.

  Where lovers met.

  Her cheeks grew warm at the thought, her heart beating faster in the knowledge of the one she would meet that night.

  We will live through this after all, Obergrande, she thought. You, and the town you have always protected.

  She closed her eyes, listening for the music of the tree, and heard it singing.

  The song of the town, on the other hand, was silent.

  Chapter 26

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  8:23 PM

  ACE PARKED HIS car a few streets west of the controlled flood zone and sighed.

  The day had been a fairly miserable experience all the way around, the sadness and the horror inescapable. But he had determined to take the chance that Life had finally offered him and make the most of it.

  So he got out of his car with the long-stemmed red rose he had managed to find in Newcomb, the last one available at the mini-mart that sold them singly, and hurried down the dark streets, flashlight and flower in hand.

  His heart pounding increasingly each step of the way.

  He was allowed almost without notice into the zone; the privates and corporals patrolling the place now routinely saluted and allowed him entrance, largely owing to his superior rank.

  When he came around the corner of Marshall Avenue, a cross street to Second, he noticed lights flickering in the air on her side of the street, in contrast to the complete darkness everywhere else in the neighborhood.

  Puzzled, he came closer.

  They were glowing beyond the drapes in the windows of Lucy’s tiny house.

  Along the curb in front of her house, black garbage bags sat neatly, the only place on the street where any were.

  He jogged to the fence, walked through the broken gate, hurried up the steps and knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” a muffled voice called beyond it. “Ready for your re-do?”

  Ace turned the handle, choking back his irritation at finding it unlocked.

  Beyond the door a candle was flickering in the hall in front of the staircase. Ace walked up the stairs.

  At the top more light appeared, flickering on the wicks of a dozen or so lighted candles lining the hallway to Lucy’s bedroom.

  He took a few deep breaths to cleanse his mood of worry, then spoke as he approached her door.

  “Babe, you’ve gotta be more careful,” he said as passed the bathroom and headed toward the front of the house. “You can’t leave the door unlocked like that.”

  He had reached the doorway.

  The master bedroom was full of small spheres of glowing radiance, hovering above the wicks of even more candles, carefully placed in the windows, atop her dresser, and on the bedside tables. It seemed to Ace that he was looking through the doorway into a land from a fairytale, a forest full of magical spirits in the devouring darkness of the now-dead neighborhood.

  Standing with her back to him, looking out the window into the night, was a figure in a long, sheer nightgown, the type of which Ace could not possibly have thought to name, though he could see it had a matching robe, equally translucent.

  Her long blond hair had been carefully swept up atop her head, with tendrils of soft, light curls cascading down from it at the base of her neck, which was much more willowy and long than he had realized. He could not tell what color the negligee was in the candlelight, but it seemed to glow like a candleflame itself, and it clung to the gentle curves of her body, narrow shoulders that tapered to a slim waist blossoming out to a backside the outline of which made his heart pound and heat rise within every muscle of his own.

  “ ‘Babe,’ huh?” Lucy said, still looking out the window, her back to him. “Is that what you intend to replace ‘ma’am’ with, Sergeant?”

  “Only with your permission, ma’—Lucy,” Ace answered. He was not surprised at the weakness in his own voice. “I will call you anything you want me to—although a new idea came to me just this afternoon.”

  She chuckled, still not turning around. “Something other than ‘babe’?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what would that be?”

  Ace cleared his throat, which had suddenly gone dry. “How do you feel about—‘my love’?” he asked quietly.

  He saw Lucy’s back stiffen, her head raise up.

  Slowly she turned around.

  For a moment, Ace didn’t recognize the woman standing in front of him.

  The hair that had caught his attention at the Town Board meeting from the moment she came into the room was gleaming in the candlelight, pulled back from her face for the first time since he had known her. The face revealed by the updo was far more beautiful than he had even remembered in his dreams, high cheekbones and an elegant jaw line that had always been swallowed by her curls. Her lips were smooth and soft in a way that made every part of his body recall what it had felt like to kiss them yesterday.

  But the eyes were the element he could not pull his gaze away from.

  Lucy’s eyes had been what had really captured his interest the night before last, large and long-lashed, taking up a substantial part of her fair, heart-shaped face. They were absolutely transparent, clear as the sky above the atmosphere, full of light and warmth and openness, transmitting any emotion she was experiencing—anger, sadness, vulnerability, joy—all of them were clearly seen the instant they entered her eyes.

  He stared at them, utterly entranced, trying to decide what emotion he saw in them now.

  They were gleaming, soft, with a hint of tears making them even more gorgeous.

  She returned his stare, but with a look that made his knees tremble.

  “Does that mean that you love me?” she asked, her voice trembling as well.

  Ace swallowed again in the hope that his voice wouldn’t shake.

  “Yes. Yes, it does. I realized it when I couldn’t stop worrying about you today.”

  Lucy pursed her lips and nodded. The expression in her eyes changed.

  Ace would have guessed that what he was looking at was relief.

  “Thank God,” she said. “I was afraid I was going to have to be in love alone. Because today I discovered the same thing.”

  Ace held out the rose to her, stretching his other hand out to her as well.

  “Come to me,” he whispered. “Come to me, my love.”

  A smile came over her lips, and into her eyes as she shook her head. She slid the outer robe of her negligee slowly over her alabaster shoulders and let it drop to the ground behind her.

  “No, soldier,” she said, “you come to me.”

>   Before she could take another breath the rose was in her hands and she was in his, both of them spanning her waist, lifted from the ground and being carried to the bed, trembling with passion.

  And something else that felt very much like joy, though she was not certain she had ever experienced it before.

  As much as she had contemplated what her eyes had seen in him over the past few days, it was a totally different experience being in his grasp.

  The muscles of his arms were stronger than she could have imagined, his shoulders wider, his back broader, his scent more clean and masculine as well. She ran her free hand through his hair and felt a thrill shoot through her, each tiny nerve in her body on fire.

  Feeling small, vulnerable in his grasp.

  And loving the feeling.

  He was kissing the hollow of her throat as he laid her gently down, his hands lifting her arms over her head alongside her ears, which were ringing now in time to the pounding of her heart.

  As his sensuous lips continued up from her throat to her neck, one of his calloused hands, a soldier’s hand that had seen the steel not just of weapons but of tools, the tools of his profession, flattened against her palm, so big atop her small one. He gently slid his fingers down between hers until they were entwined together.

  His mouth was now just outside her ear.

  “I told you yesterday that there was a lot to me,” he whispered, sliding his other hand behind her waist and drawing her close, pressing his chest to hers. “An intensity when something matters to me—I don’t want to frighten you—”

  “I want it,” she whispered, forestalling his question. “Reach deep inside me. Wear me out. Take me up mountains and to the bottom of the ocean. Give it all to me, Alex.”

  At the sound of his real name, Ace raised his head and looked into her eyes.

  “I want to be important to you,” she whispered.

  He was on fire now, his skin burning. “Believe me,” he said, his voice husky with arousal, “you are. You’re the most important thing in my life.”

  Lucy smiled impishly.

  “Prove it,” she said. “Give me everything you got.”