“Are you okay?” I asked.
“We’re in the basement.” Marcy’s voice was shaking, and I could hear Lily B whimpering.
“You want me to come over?”
“There’s not time. Stay where you are.”
“Where’s everyone else?”
“Marshall and Granddaddy Jim are in Gleason. It’s not storming there. Momma K’s at the church. She’s all right. But I don’t know where Daddy K is.”
“I’m coming over there. I don’t want you and the kids to be alone.” I grabbed a flashlight from the closet and the battery-powered radio we kept for emergencies.
“No—listen, you need to get downstairs NOW. The weatherman on the radio says the tornado is heading our way.”
The volume was turned down, but I could see the radar and a graphic that showed the towns in the tornado’s path. The name Armadillo flashed in the same angry red as the warning at the bottom of the screen.
Then we lost power. The TV shut off and the cordless phone went dead. I turned on my flashlight. “Lima Bean! Come here, buddy.” I went back in my room. Lima Bean had crawled under the bed again. I put him in a laundry basket, draped a blanket over him, and headed for the basement. I called Marcy on the cell phone.
“I’m going to the basement. I just wanted to let you know I’m okay.”
“Hurry, Kevin. It’s not good. The radio says it’s hit the other side of Armadillo. It’ll be here any minute.”
“Are you sure? It’s so quiet outside.”
Then I lost the signal. I ran down the steps to the front hall of the funeral parlor. It was awkward carrying my cat in a basket and the radio too. I had the radio’s strap around my arm, but the radio was heavy and kept banging against my leg.
The sirens stopped wailing. I uncovered Lima Bean’s face. “I think the worst is over.”
Lima Bean looked up at me as if to say, “I’m not feeling what you’re feeling, buddy.”
“I don’t care what Marcy says. We’re going to go check on her and the kids.” I put the radio down, but decided to take Lima Bean with me. He would cheer Lily B up. She’d think it was funny to see him in a basket. I went to the front door and reached for the handle.
Then I heard a roar. It was like a train, but there were no train tracks nearby. I opened the door just in time to see a tree fly across the road.
And I saw the funnel cloud. It was coming in our direction.
I locked the door. The Paramount began to shake. Terrified, I snatched up the radio and ran to the basement. I jerked the door open, slammed it shut, and ran down the stairs two at a time. I hunkered down in a corner, clutching Lima Bean’s basket. I prayed. God, please protect me and Lima Bean.
My heart pounded. I’d never been so afraid before. Was my family safe? I had no choice but to pray. Please keep Marcy and her children safe.
The house rattled and vibrated. I took Lima Bean out of his basket and squeezed him tight. I prayed harder. Protect my mom and dad, my granddad and Marshall. Watch over our friends and our town.
Then the shaking stopped. I loosened my grip on the cat, and he ran and hid under a cabinet.
I looked at my watch. I’d been in the basement for less than five minutes, but it felt like I’d been there for five hours.
I was scared of what I’d find when I went upstairs. I opened the basement door and stepped out slowly. Everything looked okay.
I tried to call Marcy on my cell phone, but the signal was still out. I opened the front door.
Marcy’s house was still standing!
I went to check the outside of the Paramount. I walked all the way around the building. I didn’t see any damage, not even to the hearse garage.
I went back to the front and noticed that down the road an uprooted maple tree was blocking both lanes of traffic. It must have been the tree that I saw flying through the air earlier. The tornado probably picked it up somewhere else and dropped it here. Limbs were scattered across the lawn, and I noticed a tree behind Marcy’s had been snapped in two.
Then I saw something red in the yard. I walked over and picked it up.
It was a Christmas ornament.
A few feet away, I found a toothbrush and some asphalt roofing shingles that didn’t match our place or Marcy’s.
Above me, a piece of vinyl siding was caught in the trees. A rag doll dangled from the tip of a branch.
An ambulance wailed in the distance.
Chapter Seventeen
I got Lima Bean and my flashlight and went to check on Marcy.
Her doors were locked. There was still no cell phone signal, so I knocked on her basement window.
She met me at the front door. “Have you been listening to the radio? It’s horrible. The tornado hit the east side of Armadillo. There’s a lot of damage.”
“Have you heard from Mom?”
Marcy nodded. “She called on the landline. She’s okay, and the church building is okay. They’re opening it up to the community as a shelter.”
“What about Dad?”
“I haven’t heard from him.” Marcy’s hands trembled as she lit an emergency candle. “I know he had his cell phone, but with the signal out, I can’t reach him.”
“Do you know where he was going?”
“I know he had to go to Walmart. And he said he was going to the barbershop.”
Marcy’s telephone rang. It was Mom. Marcy told her I was there, and she told her to put me on.
“Are you all right?” Mom asked. Her voice was shaky.
“Everything’s fine here. Do you know where Dad is?”
“No. When you see him, tell him I’m at the church. We’re setting up a shelter. Several homes near here were wiped out. Oh, hold on.” I could hear someone in the background asking her about water. Then she came back on the line. “Have Marcy take the kids over to the Paramount. We need someone there to answer the phone in case we get a call. Go in the guest kitchen, get all the cases of sodas and bottled water we have, and bring them to the church.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Be careful out there, honey. It may be dangerous.”
I helped Marcy carry the kids and their stuff across the street. When she was settled in, I loaded all the extra canned and bottled drinks we had in the back of the truck and tied a tarp over them in case it rained again.
When I headed to town, there was some debris scattered and a few limbs down—but it wasn’t as bad as Mom had made it sound. I drove for quite a way, and everything looked perfectly normal, as if nothing had happened.
“Maybe there’s not as much damage as we thought,” I said aloud, thinking that would calm my nerves and keep me from worrying about where my father was.
Then I rounded the curve. I slammed on the brakes.
It was as if a giant tractor had mowed down the neighborhood. Houses were gone. Trees were gone. Power lines were gone. They’d been replaced by splintered wood and twisted metal. The roof of someone’s garage lay in the middle of the street.
I backed the truck up and tried to think of a different route to the church. I remembered there was a road past the old Fix-Rite building. I drove through another unscathed neighborhood, then turned onto the road leading to the Fix-Rite. A large oak had been pulled up and dropped on top of a house. I drove around a pile of lumber, and when I reached the intersection, the Fix-Rite was gone. There was nothing left but the concrete foundation. The wooden partitions we’d used to divide the open floor into meeting rooms were scattered across the parking lot and in neighboring yards.
I managed to navigate the turn without running over any debris. Then I had a clean path to the new branch meetinghouse.
I pulled up to the back door and started unloading the sodas and water. Brother and Sister Conrad came out to help.
“We’ve got four families here who’ve lost their homes,” Sister Imogene said.
“Is my mom okay?”
“She’s shaky but she’s all right.” Brother Conrad carried
in the bottled water two cases at a time. “She’s worried about your dad. I think she’ll feel better when she hears from him.”
When we finished unloading the truck, I went to the cultural hall to look for Mom. She was stacking emergency hygiene kits on a table in the back.
“Mom—”
She whipped around when she heard my voice. “Oh Kevin, I’m so glad you’re not hurt.”
“Do you need my help?”
“Not right now. I’ll need to stay here for a while and help Imogene. I may be here all night—it depends on how many people come in. You’d better get home before it gets dark. Marcy may need you. Has your father called?”
“No. Cell phones still don’t work.”
“Please make sure he calls me when he gets back to the Paramount.” Her voice trembled. “I want to know when he gets home. Please don’t forget.”
I tried to go back to the Paramount the same way I came in, but the police had already closed off the streets. It was starting to get dark, and a light drizzle was falling. After navigating the maze of closed and blocked roads, I found a way that would take me to the state road that ran in front of the Paramount. It was a roundabout route I normally wouldn’t take, but with all the debris scattered everywhere, I didn’t have much choice.
I drove for about three miles and encountered more mangled trees, but at least the road was still clear. Then I looked to either side and saw that the tornado had cut a swath through a wooded area but left the adjacent farm unscathed except for debris that was scattered across the field and floating in the pond next to the barn. It looked like the farmer’s car had been blown into the pond. The back end of a blue sedan stuck out above the water. It had a bumper sticker on the right side.
There was a black briefcase in the middle of the road. It had popped open and was lying upside down. I figured that whoever lost it might appreciate getting it back. I parked the truck and got out to retrieve it.
I gathered the papers together, and stuffed them back inside the briefcase. One slipped from my grasp. I picked it up. It was a prepaid contract for services from the Paramount Funeral Home.
The blue sedan in the pond—
I abandoned the briefcase and ran, leaping across the culvert beside the road. The field was soggy and my feet sloshed in the standing water. As I got closer to the pond I could read the car’s bumper sticker: My other car is a hearse.
Chapter Eighteen
Mom was curled up on the sofa in the family waiting room for the intensive care unit, trying to get some sleep. I put a blanket over her earlier, but she was still shivering.
Granddad sat across the room, pretending to read the Memphis Commercial Appeal.
I walked to the window and watched the Life Flight helicopter take off—the same one that had brought my father to the hospital. It disappeared into the cloudless mid-morning sky.
The sound was muted on the TV in the corner, but the images spoke volumes. The tornado that hit Sherman County was all over the cable news channels. It had torn the roof off Walmart and the Piggly Wiggly. Information was displayed in bullets on the side of the screen. One hundred homes in Sherman County destroyed. No fatalities at this time. Seven people with minor injuries treated and released at a nearby hospital. One person with serious injuries transported to a Memphis hospital.
My mother didn’t need to see that. I turned the TV off.
Marcy and Marshall came in from spending a few minutes in Dad’s room. The two moved to a quiet corner where Marcy felt safe enough to lean into Marshall’s chest and sob quietly.
A nurse tapped me on the arm. “The doctor wants to speak to your mother. Would you have her step outside, please?”
I nudged Mom and lifted the blanket from her shoulders. “The doctor wants to see you.” I took her hand and helped her to her feet.
The doctor was waiting for us in a consultation room down the hall.
“Mrs. Kirk, your husband has some severe injuries.”
Mom’s eyes were dull from worry and lack of sleep. “Is there hope?”
The doctor took a deep breath before he continued. “Please understand. I can’t tell you everything is all right when it’s not. Your husband has a long recovery ahead.”
Mom swallowed so hard I could see the lump in her throat. “So you think he’ll pull through? He’s not going to die?”
“With his injuries, he could take a turn for the worse. But for the moment, he’s holding his own.”
Mom tugged at her wedding band. “What can I expect?”
The doctor flipped through his chart. “In a few days, if his condition stabilizes, he’ll need more surgery. When he’s well enough to be dismissed from here—which won’t be for at least a month—he’ll have to spend some time in a rehabilitation facility. It will probably be several months before he can come home, and when he does, he’ll likely need assistance with many of his daily activities, such as walking, bathing, and using the bathroom.”
That night, President Carter came to see my mother. I figured it would help Mom to talk to him privately, so I left the waiting room. I’d been sitting for a long time and needed to stretch my legs. I walked to the end of the hall and turned the corner.
“Kevin, I—”
“Dani!” I cried.
She reached out, and I let her comfort me. We clung together as if our lives depended on it.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Is your dad going to be all right?”
“We’re praying he will.”
Dani reached up and wiped the tears from my face.
“I’ve missed you, Dani.”
Her face flushed. “I’ve missed you too.”
Later, I stood beside my father’s bed. President Carter handed me the vial of consecrated oil. I put a drop of it on Dad’s head and pronounced the first part of the anointing for the sick.
I recalled how, years before, my father had given me a healing blessing. It was the day we went to Seven Devils Swamp and I got bit by a water moccasin.
President Carter then placed his hands on Dad’s head. I added mine.
“Arlice Theobald Kirk.” The thickness of President Carter’s voice revealed the tender feelings he had for my father. “By the power of the holy Melchizedek priesthood, we lay our hands upon you. . .”
Chapter Nineteen
I was supposed to leave for the MTC in five days. Dad was still in the hospital in Memphis. Mom was with him; she hadn’t been home since the day of the tornado. Marcy and Marshall were running the Paramount. Granddad was doing everything he could to help—from babysitting to cooking to running errands. He’d even stood in as a greeter at the last funeral.
Dad was getting better, but he was months away from being well enough to come home. I couldn’t leave my family. Not now, not when they needed my help.
I took my suitcases out to the hearse garage and loaded them in the back of the S-10. I hadn’t taken the price tags off yet, and I still had my receipt, so I knew I could return them to the department store and get my money back.
“Where are you off to?” Granddad was in the garage, measuring a length of a two-by-four. He was building a playhouse for Lily B. It was supposed to be a Christmas gift, but he was getting started early.
“I’m returning this stuff.” I opened the driver’s side door and set the sack of still-unopened white dress shirts on the seat. “I won’t be needing any of it.”
Granddad dropped his wood. “What do you mean, you won’t be needing it? You’re leaving in five days.”
“No I’m not.” I put two shoeboxes, each holding one new pair of shoes, on the car floor.
“Kevin, you’re supposed to be going on a mission.”
“I can’t leave Mom. Not with Dad in the hospital.”
“Kevin Andrew Kirk.” Granddad dropped the wood and set down the saw. He walked over and poked my chest with his finger. “You are not changing your plans. I won’t let you.”
I slammed the truck door. “Marcy and Marshall can’t
handle the business by themselves.”
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“Mom needs me to help take care of Dad.”
Granddad shook his finger in my face. “Your mom needs you to go on your mission. The Lord needs you to go on your mission. And I need you to go on a mission.”
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know anyone who has as much faith as you. If you don’t go on this mission, why should I have faith that the things you believe in are true? How can I have faith that Arlice will get better?” Granddad wiped his forehead with a worn handkerchief. “I need you to keep your faith, Kevin. It helps me to keep mine.”
I took the suitcases out of the truck and carried them back to my room. Marcy was there, waiting for me. “I saw you carrying your suitcases outside.”
I put them back on my bed. “I was going to return them.”
“Did you change your mind?”
I sat down beside the suitcases. “How can I leave you and Mom and everybody with Dad in such bad shape? How can I? It seems selfish.”
Marcy shoved the suitcases over and sat down next to me. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.”
“You can’t run this funeral home by yourselves. Mom can’t take care of Dad alone.”
“Granddad’s helping us.”
The phone rang. Marcy went to get it.
While she was gone, Lima Bean trotted over and snaked around my legs.
Marcy came back and handed me the phone. “It’s your mother. I told her what you were doing.”
I put the phone to my ear. Mom didn’t even say hello. “What are you thinking?” she hollered. “Now is not the time to back out of your mission.”
“I don’t feel right about leaving you,” I insisted. “I need to take care of you and Dad.”
“Kevin, I am a grown woman. I can take care of myself. I have a business. I have Marcy and Marshall, Lily and Des. I have your granddad. I have my church family. I won’t be alone.”
“But Mom—”
“No buts, Kevin Andrew.” Mom’s voice softened and her smile seemed to come through the phone lines. “Besides, I won’t have you skipping out on this mission, not when it means so much to your father. He almost got a hernia from jumping around when you told him you were going.”
The Final Farewell Page 13
