“Stand back,” he yelled.
He ensured he was well-balanced and pushed on the door. Once again, the intense wind caught it, swinging it 180 degrees and slamming the door onto the ground. Looking up, it was so dark, too dark for mid-afternoon. Hope swore it was time to settle the children for the night. Sheets of rain blanketed the atmosphere. Feet and legs appeared on the steps. The legs were wrapped tight around the adult’s waist. Another step. She recognized Alex’s clothing. Tears swelled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. My baby is back. Tom walked up a couple steps and extended his arms to her son. Alex never budged, keeping his body tightly secured to Adam.
“Tom shall take you—” Adam began.
“No-o-o,” Alex screamed.
Tears poured from Hope’s eyes. She had never heard such anguish from their son.
“Alex,” Adam pleaded. “You know Tom. You’re safe. He’ll take you to Momma.”
“No, Poppa. Hold me,” he cried.
Hope placed her hand on her chest to steady her voice. “Alex. Come to Momma,” she called.
“Please Poppa. Hold me,” he begged.
Hope’s heart broke. Wet and cold, Alex should be running to her, with his arms extended. Adam motioned Tom away and walked down the steps with his son in his arms. Seeing the water dripping from the men, Izabella reached to the pile of towels beside her and handed one to Hope.
“Alex, you are safe from the storm,” Adam reassured his son. “Allow Momma to hold and comfort you. Matthew and Tessa are here as are Izabella and Aunt Vicki.”
“Alex,” Hope whispered.
Their son didn’t loosen his grip.
“Alex,” Adam lectured, using a slightly gruff tone. “I must help George. Allow your momma to hold you until I return.”
Alex whimpered, but released his grip, allowing Adam to lower his small dirty frame.
“Agh,” she gasped. “Adam.”
“He requires love and comfort,” Adam reminded her. “I will return in a moment.”
Hope looked at her young son. The bruise covered half his small face. His forehead, cheek, and chin were scarlet red. Her gaze fell on the blood stain on his white shirt. Scanning his face, she found the cut. It wasn’t a surface cut caused by a small branch, but a deep wound.
Alex curled his body toward her. He grasped her forearms, his small fingers squeezing her bruises. Fire raged between her elbow and shoulder. Oblivious to her pain, Adam returned to the steps. Alex tightened his grip. Hope bit her lips to avoid shrieking in agony. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t move.
“Alex,” Izabella whispered in a soothing tone. “You’re hurting Momma.” She gripped his small fingers and pulled his arms away. “Momma loves you. Your arms can go around her belly.”
Hope took a breath, but the tears raced down her cheeks. She held his head against her chest and then turned her attention to the entrance to watch her family.
* * *
Stewart and Greg watched Adam disappear with Alex. They waited and waited in the pouring rain. George’s weight pulled on Stewart’s arms. Adam finally reappeared and ran up the steps.
“Guide my feet,” Adam stated to Tom, relieving Stewart of the stretcher.
Once Adam had a firm grip of the wet wood, Stewart backed up. His arms and back began throbbing with the beating of his heart. He looked at Greg and Adam as they stood gripping the wood.
“You must level that stretcher the moment you are able,” Stewart instructed, stating the obvious, but fearing for the men and George. Stewart rushed down the steps. He and Tom stood on either side of the steps, ready to guide Adam and Greg’s feet. Adam began backing down the steps. Both Stewart and Tom grasped George’s arms and chest, determined to keep the boy from sliding. With each step, Adam raised his arms higher, keeping the stretcher level. Greg inched toward the staircase, crouching with the stretcher lower than his body.
“Damn. I should have relieved Greg,” Adam cursed. “That is far more uncomfortable. What was I thinking?”
Stewart guided Greg’s feet. It was slow and painful to watch. A slip and all three would be hurt. Greg’s feet finally touched the ground. Tom took the stretcher from Greg and guided it toward the doctor. Greg turned around, ran up the steps, and closed the cellar door. Izabella was waiting for the men with towels and blankets.
“You are soaked to the bone and will catch a chill,” Izabella informed them. “Vicki and I shall hold a blanket, giving you privacy to strip down.”
“Come to Poppa, Alex.”
Alex darted to his father’s outstretched arms. Within a few minutes, Alex was stripped and wrapped in a large thick towel. He stood by Adam’s side as the three men removed their trousers and undergarments, and dried themselves with towels. With blankets around them, Izabella placed the clothing between towels to absorb the wet. Greg took his place along the wall beside his wife and encouraged Matthew to move to his lap. Tessa moved back to her momma. Vicki placed her arms around her husband’s shoulders.
“Lower,” Greg pleaded.
Stewart watched Vicki move her hand and rub Greg’s lower back.
“Are you hurt?” Stewart asked.
“Hope,” Adam shrieked.
Stewart turned and looked at his daughter. Seeing her bruises, his jaw dropped.
* * *
“Shh. They’ll heal,” Hope whispered, assuring her husband. “I’m concerned with Alex. That cut and bruise.”
“He’s able to see out of that eye. That was my concern. I will have Doc Edward attend to Alex once George is examined.”
Hope turned her attention to George and the orphanage doctor. The boy hadn’t moved since they brought him down.
“Has he taken ill?”
Still shivering, Adam didn’t respond. Instead, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and began to rock Alex. Exhausted from the trauma, Alex fell asleep. A tear ran down Adam’s cheek. He kissed the top of Alex’s head.
“Adam?” Hope whispered.
“We found the boys together,” he informed her, keeping his voice to a soft whisper. He never opened his eyes. “George is alive, but not conscious. Alex was terrified. I don’t want to talk about it now.”
He leaned his head against the wall and said a quiet prayer, thanking God for protecting their son. The warm of the blanket settled his breathing. His head leaned to the side, touching hers. Both Adam and Alex were sleeping within minutes. Hope looked toward her family. Her father was leaning against Izabella. He was sleeping, as were Greg and Matthew. Vicki looked at her and winked. Their families were safe. She didn’t know what happened in the storm, but knew it would be a night they would not soon forget.
* * *
The warm breeze and bright light woke Stewart. He opened his eyes and looked around. It wasn’t just a bad dream, but his family was safe. Tom had opened the door to the cellar. A warm breeze drifted into the humid room. He stood, put on his damp trousers and tapped Adam on the shoulder.
“Shh,” Stewart whispered, not wanting to wake Alex or Hope.
Stewart picked up Alex and placed him in Izabella’s arms. Alex stirred but did not wake, nor did Hope.
“We shall assess the building and grounds for damage,” Stewart whispered to Izabella.
Greg rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “I’ll join you.”
Stewart kissed Izabella’s cheek and went up the steps to wait for Greg and Adam. He stepped outside and looked around. The sun shone brilliantly in the clear blue sky. If it wasn’t for the devastation, he wouldn’t have believed there was a storm. But, devastation surrounded him. Fallen trees, limbs, and debris covered the grounds. The property would be off limits to the children. Hearing voices, he turned to see Greg and then Adam.
Together, they walked around the building. There were a number of broken windows on all three floors but structurally, the building had survived the storm.
“We must clear the broken glass from the study area, the attic, and eating room before the children can enter,” Adam stated.
“Greg and I shall place boards over the broken windows while you clean the shattered glass. Replacement windows need to be ordered,” Stewart informed Greg. “I’m questioning whether a tornado touched down nearby.”
They worked their way to the shed and then to the barn to check the animals. Finished assessing the buildings, Adam turned and began walking in the direction of the pond. Stewart and Greg followed, all eager to see the area where they found the boys. They walked past the first row of trees and continued deeper into the forest. Adam’s foot slipped on the slick debris. His hands and arms went scurrying into the air, but he managed to remain upright.
“Watch your footing,” Adam warned the others. “We can see the uprooted trees, but not all the scattered branches, leaves and needles.”
Twigs crunched underfoot, an eerie reminder that only a short time earlier the trees were swaying dangerously in the wind. The exact location was unmistakable. The fallen tree, the stump and log used for leverage, and the log that had pinned George and Alex marked the spot. Kneeling, Adam wiped the wet streaks from his cheeks. He squatted and placed his hand on the wet dirt where they found Alex. Stewart lowered himself to his knees and put his hand on Adam’s shoulder. Stewart saw the narrow hollow in the ground, just deep and wide enough to contain the two boys. Staring at the branch that covered them, the boys would have been killed instantly without that hollow. We will be eternally grateful to George for protecting Alex. I will see to it that boy is adopted by a loving family and we remain in touch.
“Alex had a guardian angel today, Adam,” Stewart assured him. “She protected him.”
Adam stared at the ground. “How could you possibly have heard his voice? I couldn’t hear anything but the howling wind.”
“Natasha spoke to me. For a split second, the wind was silenced. She allowed me to hear his cry.” Not wishing to dwell on the event, Stewart rubbed Adam’s shoulder, rose to his feet, and led him and Greg away from the scene and out into the open. “I heard your prayer during the storm,” Stewart informed Adam. “It would be impossible to love my grandson or daughter better. I couldn’t love you more if you were my own son.”
“You’re too kind,” Adam acknowledged, “but I shall attempt to love them better. Every minute of the day is precious. Every life is precious.”
“Yes. Natasha’s hope was that someday the human race would realize that.”
* * *
The next hour was spent cleaning up the broken glass and tidying the rooms the children required for the evening. They returned to the cellar and walked down the steps. Alex was snuggling with Hope but squirmed and ran to Adam’s arms.
“The house has been cleaned enough for the children to go in,” Adam informed them. Tom, his wife, and Greg guided the children up the steps.
“I must ask,” Adam pleaded. “How was Hope transported down the cellar steps?”
Memories of the awful slide flashed through Stewart’s mind. He gave his head a shake.
“In the same fashion as George, but not with the same success. I regret to admit that in my haste, I did not consider her additional weight or lack of agility.”
Adam nodded. Vicki and Izabella led Matthew and Tessa out of the cellar.
“I’ll carry Hope out,” Adam said.
“No-o-o,” she protested. “I’m far too heavy. I’m certain there are multiple babies inside me. I’ll be content to stay down here until I give birth to this child. With the door open, I’ll receive adequate fresh air and sunshine and blankets to keep me warm in the evening.”
Greg walked down the last steps and over to his niece. Squatting, he placed one hand under her legs and the other behind her back.
“Uncle Greg. No-o-o,” she squealed.
“Hope. Hush.” He turned his head toward Adam. “I would appreciate your assistance. Help keep me steady and then guide me on the stairs. My niece is not staying in this cellar a minute longer than necessary.”
Greg lifted Hope. Stewart took Alex into his arms and they ascended the staircase then continued to the door to the addition. Adam and Stewart took Alex to the infirmary to have the gash by his eye examined and thoroughly cleaned and bandaged.
With Greg and Vicki agreeing to spend the night, Stewart went to see George. He sat with him for the longest time but the young boy never moved.
“Oh, George. You have to wake up.”
Depressed, Stewart shuffled his way down the hall and noticed Adam sitting on Alex’s bed, snuggling with his son. When they made eye contact, Stewart shook his head. Stewart went to his own room, sat on the sofa beside Izabella and thought about the day. How fortunate they were.
An hour later, Stewart walked down the hallway. Hope was sitting up in bed, reading. There was no sign of Adam. Continuing, he found Adam in the hospital ward, sitting beside George. His son-in-law looked up and turned his attention back to the patient. They were equally disappointed and discouraged the young boy had not regained consciousness.
* * *
Adam’s hand covered his yawn when he entered their bedroom and closed the door.
“Did the doctor re-examine Alex’s eye?” Hope asked, resting her book against her stomach. “Will there be any scarring?”
“Yes, but given his age, the scar should fade as Alex grows. Doc Edward is hopeful it will not be visible once Alex becomes an adult.”
Her heart sank. She had been too optimistic, hoping it would disappear completely. “I’m thankful he didn’t lose his vision out of that eye. Did George wake?”
Adam stared at the floor, shaking his head. “Nay.” He took a deep breath and retrieved his sleeping attire. “If you hear Alex, you must wake me.” He pulled the night shirt over his head. “It’s my hope he will sleep through the night.” Adam crawled under the sheets, kissed her cheek, and rolled onto his side, falling asleep before Hope turned off the light.
* * *
“Oh my God,” Keeghan moaned. “What an awful storm. I’m glad the family survived, but please, please, please let George come out of this. He sounds like an amazing kid. I’d adopt him.”
“Given the option, you’d adopt every kid in the orphanage,” Will responded. “My heart goes out to the family as well. George saved Alex’s life. The kid has to make it. What do you want to bet Adam and Hope adopt him. Either that or Greg and Vicki adopt him. Someone in the family will adopt him.”
Keeghan wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded.
* * *
Stewart rose before dawn, and went down for breakfast. Greg entered the dining area as Stewart sat down with his coffee.
“I just got off the phone with my father,” Stewart informed him. “He will contact the crew and inform them we will not be working today. I will pay them from my personal resources. I would appreciate your help to repair the remainder of the broken windows.”
When they finished eating, Stewart and Greg walked to the shed for boards to use to cover the windows. Greg bent down to pick up a board. Within seconds it crashed to the floor. Greg cringed and gripped his side.
“Greg!”
“Do not speak a word of this to Adam or Hope, but I pulled something yesterday. I didn’t sleep well last night.”
“You need to see the doctor. I’m taking you, right now.”
The orphanage doctor gave Greg a thorough examination.
“Greg, you have a pulled muscle. You need to rest to allow it to heal.”
“I don’t have time to rest,” Greg groaned, leaving the examining room. “We are behind at the site. As I said yesterday, I’m considering overtime.”
“I will speak with the client and inform him we will be delayed. You will rest and allow your body to heal. Given the ferocity of the storm, I’m sure the client will understand. Poppa and I will work at the site.”
* * *
The sun shone brightly into the room when Hope woke. Adam continued sleeping. In their years together, Adam had never slept past sunrise, always rising to enjoy his coffee before assisting to serve the
children their morning meal. She heard movement in the hall and then saw Izabella holding Alex’s hand.
“Shh,” Hope whispered, pointing toward Adam. “Poppa is sleeping. How is my father?”
“He and Greg are doing more clean-up,” Izabella responded quietly. “I will feed Alex and bring you a tray.”
Hope reached for her novel and began reading. Adam never twitched. The aroma from her breakfast woke Adam.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
He kissed her cheek and crawled out of bed. “Tired and a bit stiff, but I’m well.”
He dressed and left the room.
Adam’s parents arrived to assist with the children and Nana Donovan kept Hope company.
“I haven’t seen Adam or Poppa,” Hope told her Nana.
“Izabella told me they recruited volunteers to assist with clearing the debris from the storm. The children will be allowed outside later in the day. Stewart and Adam are also spending time with George.”
That night, movement on the bed woke Hope. Opening her eyes, Adam was twitching and mumbling.
“Adam. Adam. You’re dreaming.”
Adam bolted upright, looking around the room, his breathing hard and heavy. He looked at her.
“Are you hurt?” he demanded, clearly terrified. “Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she assured him.
“I’ll move to the spare room.”
“No. Stay by my side. Speak with me, Adam,” she pleaded. “Unburden your grief.”
“The hour is late. We both require sleep.”
Adam rolled over with his back to her. It seemed she had just returned to sleep. “Poppa. Help me-e-e.” The horrific scream split the stillness.
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