The Survivor

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  As if on cue, the weather radio squawked again. Following the high-pitched noise, a tinny voice announced the latest storm warnings in the surrounding counties.

  Earlier, customers had come into the shop and reported the latest weather predictions on the TV. Though John had listened intently, he thought the stories all seemed rather overblown. He figured the news anchors were making things seem as catastrophic as possible so no one would turn off their television sets. Keeping everyone in a panic were the news organizations’ ways of getting people to keep listening. “Frank, they’re talking about a couple of storms rolling through. That’s nothing to be concerned about.”

  “John, the storms are just west of here. They’re coming our way.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  But Frank wasn’t backing down from his dire warnings. “They’re mentioning tornadoes, too.”

  “It’s November.”

  “Early November. It could happen.”

  It could, but it wasn’t likely. After living in Indianapolis for the majority of his adult life, he’d been through all these warnings before. He’d even gotten shaken up a time or two.

  But after sitting in the basement for hours, nothing had ever happened. All he’d done was get himself worried for nothing.

  But since he was mindful of Frank’s obvious fear, John kept the rest of his skepticism to himself. He didn’t want to offend the old guy, but he thought Frank’s nerves were starting to get the best of him. Must be what happened when a man had more time to listen to all the news outlets.

  Pointing to the TV Amos had installed on the wall just a few days ago, Frank said, “Turn on the news again, John. We need to see the latest tracking reports.”

  John had just picked up the remote control when Amos darted in through the back door. When he saw three of the tables full and John and Frank on either side of the counter, he scowled.

  “Sorry, everyone, but it’s time to get on home. Storm’s coming.”

  “Amos, really?”

  But Amos wasn’t even having a little of John’s sarcasm. “I’m serious. They’ve spotted twisters in the area.”

  “It’s just a tornado watch. Not a warning.”

  “All the same, we’ve got to button down the hatches here. Frank, get on now. You’ve got a ways to travel.”

  Frank got off his stool and slipped on his hat. “Don’t forget about water and lots of extra batteries,” he said in parting.

  “I’ve got my things ready. You be careful, too,” Amos said.

  To John’s dismay, the four regulars pulled on their coats and started pulling out car keys. When Amos went right over and turned the open sign to Closed, John had had enough.

  “Amos, you’re going to turn everyone into nervous wrecks.”

  “Good. Better that than bumps on a log.”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing?”

  “Pretty much. Otherwise, you’d have already closed up shop.”

  “If you’re that worried, go on home. I’ll make sure everything’s in order.”

  “You can’t stay here, John. There’s no basement. Part of why I stopped by was so I could take you to my house. I’ve got a good solid basement.” Clapping his hands, he nodded. “Yep, what you need to do is pour some of that coffee in a carafe, grab your coat, and come with me.”

  He’d been in Amos’s basement. Filled with too much dusty memories, it was the absolute last place John wanted to spend the next few hours. “I’ll be fine. You’re worrying about everything too much, Amos. You shouldn’t listen to the news like you are.”

  “I don’t need any fancy weather reporters to tell me what the sky looks like.”

  “Sky?”

  Amos’s brows snapped together. “Honestly, John. Have you not looked at the sky? It looks bad.”

  Opening up a cupboard, he pulled out a large stainless steel carafe and emptied the rest of the coffee into it. “I just brewed this, so it should taste fine for a while.”

  “John, put that down and get yourself together.”

  John was now pretty much beyond exasperated. Amos definitely had adopted the habit of watching too much overblown weather news and had gotten himself in a bit of a state. “Amos, it’s only a little rain. Maybe you should stop getting yourself so worked up. You’re going to hurt yourself or something.”

  Amos’s eyes narrowed as he looked John up and down, just like he was no better than an obstinate four-year-old. “No, it looks like a tornado’s coming,” he said with an exaggerated tone.

  When the radio behind them squawked, sending out another report, Amos pointed to it with a satisfied look. “See?”

  John finally took the time to listen. As he did, the gravity of the situation slowly became apparent. Outside, the wind was whipping into a frenzy, and a faint, glowing, greenish cast now tinted the sky. His ears popped—his body telling him what his mind was refusing to acknowledge. The pressure in the air was changing, and not for the better.

  Then, like the stubborn child Amos had taken him for, John finally said the obvious. “Bad weather is coming . . .”

  Amos’s hand slapped the counter. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for far too long, young man! Hail has been reported. Twisters have been sighted. This isn’t a bunch of old people getting riled up. Take it seriously. Now’s the time to take care of yourself and the people you care about.”

  “I will.” He smiled as Amos marched out of the shop, pure irritation evident in his every step.

  John shook his head. Then unable to stop himself, he looked up at the television and finally looked at the map they were showing.

  And realized they really were in the storm’s path. Unable to help himself, he thought about Mary. Her basement was fit, but he also knew she would probably be struggling to take care of the animals. And Abel.

  And be worrying about getting Jenna to a safe place.

  And she wouldn’t have been listening to any of the reports, because she didn’t even own a battery-operated radio.

  Making a sudden decision, John grabbed his coat and ran to the garage. For a split second, he thought about taking his truck. He hadn’t technically joined the church yet. Maybe it would still be okay if he drove . . .

  But that wasn’t what he’d promised himself. When he had finally made the decision to leave Indianapolis for good and court Mary, he knew he would also become Amish. He’d even met with the bishop and church elders and planned to become baptized in just a few weeks.

  It was time. So, though it was raining and the newscasters warned of approaching storms, he bypassed his keys. Instead, he grabbed his hat and heavy coat, and let himself outside. If he hurried, he could probably make it to her house in fifteen minutes.

  Tucking his chin to his chest, he started on his way. His heart was telling him he was out of choices. They’d already been made. He’d fallen in love with Mary and Abel. Nothing was going to keep him away. It was time to tell her the truth.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The minute she realized John had walked to her house in the storm, Mary flung open the door and ran out to him. “John, I can’t believe you came all this way on foot!”

  His eyes lit up as he reached for her hand. Then, with a wary eye toward the sky, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her back inside. “You shouldn’t have come out here. You’re going to get soaked to the skin.”

  “No worse than you,” she said as they headed toward the house. The wind was blowing so hard now that the rain seemed to be falling sideways. Tiny flecks of ice were interspersed with rain, making each drop feel like a pinch when it swiped her cheeks. “I hope you won’t catch cold.”

  “I’m fine,” John said as he helped her scramble up the three steps leading to her door.

  She held on to him with one hand, and closed her other hand over the icy railing. Wit
h two more steps, they were safely inside.

  After closing the door behind them, John looked down on her. For a moment, she thought he was going to lean close and brush his lips against hers, but of course he straightened.

  “Mary, I started worrying about you the minute I realized just how bad the storms are. How are you? Are you frightened? Do you need anything?”

  She’d been scared to death. This afternoon proved to be another one of those times when she missed her husband terribly. Not only would he have comforted her through the crisis, but he would have taken care of everything, too. In the years since his death, there had been many a time when she’d come to realize just how much she’d taken William for granted.

  He’d handled the hard, physical labor on the farm. That was true.

  But he’d also had such a steady, confident nature that she’d come to depend on his advice and support. “I’ve been afraid, but I’ve been strong,” she said. She didn’t want John to think she was helpless.

  Looking at her, pure pride shown in his eyes. “You’re incredible, Mary. Most women I know would be wringing their hands.”

  “I’m not most women,” she teased. Of course, John didn’t have to know that she wasn’t near as courageous as he imagined. In fact, she would’ve gladly spent the last hour wringing her hands in worry—if she’d thought it would help. But of course in the years since William had passed, she’d learned that hand-wringing didn’t do much of anything besides create sore hand muscles.

  She was just considering how much to admit to John when the wind blew hard against the front windows, making them rattle.

  Looking at the panes of glass with concern, John threw a question over his shoulder. “Where’s Abel? We need to get to a better place fast.”

  “He’s back in his bedroom. I had him gather a few things for the storm cellar.”

  “Mamm?” Abel called from the hallway as he bounded in. “Mamm, we should go, don’tcha think?”

  “Certainly. Especially now that John is here. Abel, he walked all the way over here in the rain. Isn’t that something?”

  A moment of distrust flashed through the boy’s eyes before he contained himself and nodded. “Mr. Weaver.”

  “I know you two probably have everything under control, but I thought I’d try to lend a hand. If I could.” There. He was asking permission, though he really didn’t know how he could physically make himself leave if Abel didn’t want him there.

  As the wind knocked the windows around them, Abel glanced at the windows and then back at John. “I . . . I’m glad you’re here. For Mom.”

  “I am a lucky woman,” Mary said, further smoothing things between them. “Now I have two men looking after me.” With another awkward smile, she said, “Well, are you two ready to go down to the storm cellar? It’s cramped and dark, but we’ll all be safer there. You know, just in case the winds get worse.”

  “That sounds like the perfect plan. What can I carry?”

  Mary strode to the kitchen counter. “We have a battery-operated flashlight and a Coleman lantern, too. If you carry these, I’ll get the box of food and blankets.”

  John grabbed both from the counter. “Anything else?”

  “Abel, can you think of anything I’ve missed?”

  “Nee, Mamm. We just need to go. Now.”

  “All right, then.”

  After tossing the two lights in another box, he grabbed one of the blankets she’d been holding and held out a hand to her. “Ready?”

  Oh, his voice was so dear. Right then and there, she knew she’d been right to trust him. Right to trust him with her son’s behavior, their welfare, and her heart. “I am now.”

  After helping her grab a few more blankets and the basket full of neatly packed goods, he ushered Mary and Abel outside, holding her arm securely.

  “Abel, stay near me!” he called out over the wind.

  “I’m trying, but the wind is strong.”

  “Indeed it is. But we’ll be better in your cellar.” After they opened the heavy wooden door, he shined the flashlight down into the dark cavity. “Are you ready for this?”

  As the wind and rain blew against her face and cheeks, almost stinging her skin, she nodded. “Definitely.”

  “Can you go first? I’ll follow with Abel.”

  “Jah. I can do that,” she replied. And amazingly, she could! Everything seemed easier by his side.

  After helping her get settled on the wooden bench and giving Abel a reassuring look, John positioned himself right in front of the door—as if he was doing everything he could to ensure their safety.

  To Mary’s eye, he looked stronger than ever. And he seemed more determined to be a part of their lives. She wondered what had brought about the change. She knew he’d gone back to Indianapolis to not only revisit the past, but to also discover what the future had in store for him.

  As the wind howled outside, a look of alarm entered his eyes. “Where’s Jenna?”

  “She’s all right. She’s with Chris.”

  “And who is Chris?”

  Mary bit her lip to keep from smiling. Their situation wasn’t the least bit amusing, but his reaction was—a true combination of horror and embarrassment . . . and possessiveness. Like he truly cared about Jenna and was anxious to protect her, too.

  “Chris is an Englischer who she’s friends with.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Friends?”

  With an embarrassed look, she gestured toward Abel. “Jah.”

  Abel rolled his eyes. “Chris is her boyfriend. He’s who got her pregnant.”

  Mary was beyond embarrassed. “Abel!”

  “It’s true.”

  To her relief, John just smiled. “Well, now I understand. So you feel she’s in safe hands? He’ll look out for her?”

  “I think so. I believe they were off to talk to his parents.”

  As the wind howled again, Abel shivered, betraying that he really wasn’t as brave and fearless as he was hoping to appear. The wind bristled against the door.

  Truly, it looked as if it might not be any match for the fierce winds.

  What if it wasn’t?

  “John, there’s room on the bench with Abel and me,” she said, attempting to sound far more calm than she felt. “Please, come over here and sit with us.”

  “I think it’s best if I stay here by the door. If something happens, I want to be here.”

  “But you could get hurt,” Abel blurted out.

  “And we would feel horrible if you were hurt,” she added. More quietly, she said, “We would feel horrible if anything bad happened to you.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen. I promise. I’ll move next to you if the winds get worse.” As if on cue, the winds outside gusted and blew, making the cracks in the shelter whistle.

  Seeking to reassure them both, he added, “It’s also important to me to protect you.”

  After another flash of worry, Mary nodded. But Abel looked at him. “Why?”

  “Why? Because I care about you, of course.”

  Confusion clouded Abel’s eyes. But he said nothing.

  John realized it was time to speak from his heart. “Listen, just in case something happens . . . I just want you both to know that you’ve become my family. You two have become the most important people to me in the world. I went to Indianapolis last week to be sure of some things. See, I started worrying about my feelings for the two of you.”

  “What was worrying you?” Abel asked.

  “My past. Back when I was eighteen, when I left here, I had to make a lot of sacrifices. Turning against my faith and family wasn’t easy. In fact, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. While I was considering returning to the church, to the Plain way of life, I was beating myself up. Part of me was starting to think that maybe it would be wrong to go back. To go
back to everything I had given up.”

  Mary’s face seemed to fill with hope and doubt and kindness. “You wanted to be sure,” she whispered.

  “That’s right.” He couldn’t help but look at her in wonder. She understood him, even when he struggled to put all his jumbled thoughts in order.

  No matter what, she was looking for the best in him.

  In that moment, he realized that that was how she would always be. Kind. Giving. Wanting to respect his point of view.

  She had survived the loss of her husband and now was ready to move on again. He had never felt more humbled.

  “Are you sure now?” she asked.

  John looked at her, looked at Abel sitting next to her— silent and waiting, too.

  “I’m positive,” he said. Just as a terrible noise roared through their valley.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  For Jenna, the last two hours had felt like one of her old daydreams—the kind she used to have when she was sure the rest of her life was going to be sunny and perfect. Of course, she’d long since learned that such things could never happen.

  But things had certainly come close. After she and Chris had left Mary’s house in his car, they’d driven around the outskirts of Jacob’s Crossing. At first, their conversation had been stilted, then things between them had smoothed and Jenna started remembering everything she’d liked about him.

  Chris was the type of guy who seemed to actually try to hear her when she talked. He didn’t interrupt, or try to top her story with one of his. Instead, he simply listened and asked questions. Just as if everything she had to say was important.

  He asked about the baby, too. Lots of questions about how she felt and how being with child felt. At first she’d been embarrassed, but then, little by little, she began to enjoy sharing the details with him. She’d been keeping so many things to herself, that it was a relief to share her excitement and apprehensions with him.

  Then, after stopping for ice cream, they heard about the storm coming in. Though he offered to drive her the four extra blocks to Mary’s, Jenna declined the offer. For reasons Jenna didn’t care to contemplate—she wasn’t quite ready to leave his side.