Healing the Boss’s Heart

by Valerie Hansen

  And the formerly beautiful trees. She was astounded. “What a shame. Look at the poor cottonwoods.”

  “All the more proof that you wouldn’t have made it to the church in one piece,” he reminded her.

  She hated to agree but he was right. Many of the trees that had lined the riverbank had been toppled, with nearly their entire root balls sticking out of the ground. Those that were still standing had limbs broken away or their whole tops twisted off. The remaining leafless branches were draped with black tar paper and other flexible materials that flapped frantically like ugly, misshapen flags.

  Sheets of corrugated tin had been ripped from roofs and bent tightly around the windward side of the more substantial portions of some of the trees, as if squeezed in place by a giant, malevolent hand. If no one in or around High Plains had been killed in this storm it would be a wonder.

  Raising her gaze to the horizon across the river, she gasped. Her hand flew to her throat. The danger wasn’t over. Her boss had been right about that, too. A wall cloud lay just above the northern hills. And it looked as if it was located directly over her brother Jesse’s Circle L Ranch!

  As she watched, the solid line at the bottom of the black horizontal wall fractured. Dark masses began to drop lower into the lighter sky in several places. At first they just looked like more clouds.

  Then, one of them became a finger of spinning chaos and snaked downward, moving as if it were a double-jointed talon with a razor-sharp claw at its base, ready to tear at the land below. To rip everything it touched to shreds. To kill anything—anyone—in its path.

  Dear Jesus. Maya prayed, pointing, trembling. “Another tornado!”

  “I see it.” He slipped his free arm around her shoulders and gave her a supportive squeeze. “Don’t worry. That one’s a long way from here. Judging by the direction everything is moving, it won’t come anywhere near us.”

  “I know,” Maya replied, having to fight the lump in her throat in order to speak. “But my oldest brother and his family live out there.”

  “Where?”

  She shivered, glad he had hold of her as she took a shaky breath and made herself say, “Right at the base of that funnel cloud.”

  Greg wished he could control nature, make the storm go away for good. Fortunately, the overall turbulence didn’t seem as if it was going to last much longer.

  As they stood and watched, the snaking cord of the latest funnel cloud thinned, broke into sections, then retreated back into the ominous ebony cloud cover until there was no more sign of it.

  The worst of the local wind and rain had tapered off, too, leaving stifling humidity. Greg wasn’t sure whether he was still soggy from his trip outside to rescue Tommy or if he was beginning to perspire, now that there was no electricity to run the air-conditioning. Probably both.

  He looked Maya up and down, ending his perusal at her feet. “You’ll need some sensible shoes if we’re going to hike to the church from here. Are those all you have?”

  “They’ll be fine. I’m used to wearing heels.”

  “I know you are. The problem is the mess in the street, not your shoes.”

  “I used to keep an old pair of sneakers in the trunk of my car. Unfortunately, I took them out last week.”

  “I doubt it matters. Have you checked our parking lot?” He had not done so, either, yet judging by the damage to Main Street, the area at the rear of nearby stores and offices was probably just as big a disaster. If her car happened to be drivable, which was doubtful, there would still be no safe routes in or around High Plains, at least not for a while.

  “You know I haven’t.” She made a face at him. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask? Because if you’re done criticizing me, I want to get started.”

  “I wasn’t criticizing you, I was being rational. We obviously can’t drive through all this debris, so we’ll have to walk. And the easiest way to get hurt is to not be sure-footed enough. You may have to climb or jump.” He studied her tailored outfit, making note of her slim skirt. “Do you think you can do that?”

  “I can do anything that will get me to my daughter,” Maya said emphatically. “I’m going now, whether you come or not.”

  Tommy wiggled in Greg’s arms so he lowered him to the floor, keeping hold of his thin wrist so he wouldn’t run away.

  “Let go,” the child whined. “I have to go find Charlie. He might be hurt.”

  Lots of people might be, Greg thought. He said, “We’ll all look for your dog while we walk over to the church to get Ms. Logan’s little girl. Maybe Charlie went there to guard all the other kids.” He could tell by Maya’s grim expression that she wasn’t buying his theory but as long as Tommy did, that was good enough for Greg.

  “O-okay. But if we see Charlie he gets to come, too.”

  “Absolutely,” Maya told him, taking his hand and bending to look him in the eyes. “You have to be really good for Mr. Garrison and me, okay? It’s very dangerous out there and if you got hurt, you couldn’t keep looking for Charlie. Do you understand?”

  The child nodded soberly, amazing Greg with his sudden acceptance of adult authority. Apparently, if there was a valid reason to obey, Tommy was capable of controlling himself enough to do so. He just wished Maya had interceded in that sane and practical manner before the wild kid had splashed mud all over the sidewalk.

  Realizing how trivial his thoughts were in light of the disaster that had just descended upon High Plains, Greg began to chuckle quietly.

  Maya arched her eyebrows and gave him a withering look. “What in the world is so funny?”

  “I am,” he said, shaking his head and following with more self-deprecating laughter. “I was just thinking about not wanting mud splashed on my office. Right now, I’d willingly settle for a little mud on the outside if that was all that was wrong.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said. “But if you keep me standing here wasting time for one more minute I’m going to scream. Are you ready to go?”

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  He left Tommy in her care as he shouldered the damaged front door to force it partway open. Then he motioned and held out his hand.

  When she took it to let him assist her and the boy through the narrow opening, he noticed that her slim fingers were clammy and trembling. Considering how scared she must be, especially in regard to her daughter, she was handling her feelings pretty well.

  Greg hadn’t been a praying man for a long, long time, but under the circumstances he was tempted to try it, just this once. All he wanted to ask was that Maya’s bravery be honored by a safe reunion with her child. If her God really existed, really cared, she deserved that much at the very least.

  Chapter Three

  Maya would have run all the way to the church if there had been any way to safely do so. Stepping gingerly and wending her way through the rubble, she was awestruck. So many loose building bricks littered what had once been the sidewalk they had to take to the center of the street in order to pass.

  Whole structures had collapsed, and many of those that hadn’t actually fallen had been stripped of portions of their facade, making them barely recognizable.

  Broken glass lay everywhere. Cars were smashed, some lying on the sidewalks and lawns where they’d been dropped like discarded toys. Since she couldn’t see any occupants inside the wrecks she could only hope their drivers had sensibly run for cover before the worst of the storm had overtaken them.

  Piles of jagged refuse were heaped against the windward sides of anything solid, not to mention the rubbish floating in the High Plains River, near where the lovely, quaint gazebo had stood mere minutes ago.

  Greg put out his hand and stopped her. “Wait here with Tommy a second. I think I see movement inside the pie shop. They might be trapped.”

  There was no way Maya could bring herself to argue with him when he was bent on doing a good deed. All she said was, “Hurry.”

  She knew without a doubt that people could be hu
rt all over town. Dying. Suffering. That thought cut her to the quick. Many of her friends and neighbors might be in dire straits—perhaps even worse—not to mention her brother Jesse. For the first time since the onset of the tornado, Maya thought of the Garrison family, too.

  As soon as he returned and reported that the folks in Elmira’s diner were all right she asked, “Do you think your father is okay?”

  “Probably. He’s too mean to die.”

  “What an awful thing to say!”

  “Just quoting him,” Greg answered, continuing to lead the way east along Main Street. “He’s been saying that for years. Besides, the estate is pretty far out of town. I don’t imagine it was in the storm’s path. At least not this time.”

  “I wish I could say the same for the Logan ranch,” she replied. “I suppose there won’t be any way to tell how Jesse and Marie are until communication is restored.”

  “Maybe we can hitch a quick ride out that way later and you can see for yourself.”

  She shook her head, then pointed. “Not unless that bridge is in better shape than it looks from here. The whole roadway is blocked up by big pieces of houses and goodness knows what else.”

  “You’re right. That probably means the rescue units from the other side of the river won’t be able to get to us without going miles out of their way, either.”

  “I know.” She sighed. “It’s going to take us weeks just to dig out, and that will be only the beginning. No wonder so many people are just wandering around in a daze. It boggles my mind, too.”

  “I can help with the rebuilding,” Greg told her, leading their little group in a circuitous path that avoided loose wires that were dangling between battered telephone poles. “My lumber yard and hardware wholesale can supply resources, even if they’ve sustained some damage.”

  “That should be profitable, too.”

  Maya knew she shouldn’t have taken his offer so negatively but she’d worked for the man long enough to know that he was fixated on the bottom line: net gains. It wasn’t his fault that that was the way his mind worked, but she did see it as the reason he’d been so successful when he was barely thirty.

  He sobered and glowered at her. “This isn’t about business, it’s about survival. I’m not going to try to make money from the misfortunes of others, even if my father’s opinion of me suffers as a result.”

  “He wouldn’t understand?”

  “No. That old man has never approved of anything I’ve done, which is the main reason I told him I was leaving High Plains for keeps, years ago.”

  “It must have been hard for you to come back.”

  “Yes, it was. If my cousin Michael hadn’t phoned and told me Dad was terminally ill, I’d still be enjoying my studio apartment with a view of Lake Michigan, instead of standing in the middle of this horrible mess.”

  “With me,” Maya added, giving his strong hand a squeeze. “I’m really sorry you have to go through all this but I’m glad you’re here. If you hadn’t been, who knows what would have become of me in this storm.”

  “I hope you’d have had the good sense to duck.”

  Maya nodded. “Yeah. Me, too. But I doubt it.”

  Reverend Michael Garrison, Greg’s cousin, was also pastor of the largest house of worship in town, the three-story High Plains Community Church.

  By the time Greg, Maya and Tommy arrived on the church grounds, Michael had his shirtsleeves rolled up and was standing outside the historic, white-sided wooden building, offering solace and sanctuary to passersby.

  Tall, slim and darker-haired than Greg, he greeted everyone with open arms, then shook Greg’s hand as Maya left with Tommy and hurried toward the annex where the preschool was located.

  “How does it look over here?” Greg asked Michael. “Are the church and preschool okay?”

  “Fine, fine,” the pastor answered. “Maya’s daughter is a wonder. She came through the storm like a trooper. All the kids did. The last time I looked, Layla was helping Josie and Nicki comfort the most frightened little ones.”

  “Sounds tough and capable, just like her mama,” Greg said proudly. He scanned the church. “I can’t believe those big stained-glass windows survived.”

  “They have safety glass over them, thanks to our insurance company’s insistence.”

  “How about the parsonage out back? Do you still have a place to live?”

  “Yes. It’s fine, too.”

  “Good. Well, if you don’t need me right now I’ll go see how Maya’s faring. Is there anything else I can help you with first?”

  “Not that I can think of,” Michael replied, looking weary and old far beyond his twenty-eight years. “I’m still trying to get my head around all this. We lost the carriage house, right down to the foundation, so we can’t use it for temporary housing the way we used to.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Move survivors into the fellowship hall in the church basement for the time being. I’ve already got half a dozen women working in the kitchen, preparing food as best they can without electricity.”

  Greg brightened. “There are a few generators in stock at my hardware store. If we can get to them and they still work after all this, they’re yours.”

  “God bless you.” Michael clapped him on the back with affection. “I knew we could count on your help. I’m glad you were here.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been told that same thing once already. I’m not sure I should be happy about it but it does seem advantageous.”

  “The good Lord works in mysterious ways.”

  “Well, maybe. Just don’t start trying to tell me I’m back in High Plains because it’s God’s will, okay?”

  Grinning and looking a lot better than he had when Greg had first walked up, Michael said, “Perish the thought.”

  Greg was still digesting his cousin’s last comment when he reached the door to the preschool. Its handmade sign was hanging by one edge and flapping in the breeze, but other than that and some deep dings in the paint on the lapped wood siding, it looked unscathed.

  He shuddered. Given the fact that he could better assess what little was left of the carriage house and old town hall from where he stood, it was phenomenal that the historic church—and the children inside the annex—had been spared. This tornado had come way too close for comfort.

  Greg was reaching for the knob when the door flew open and Tommy ran out, barreling into him.

  “Whoa. Where do you think you’re going?” Greg caught the small, wiry child and swung him into his arms.

  “Let me go. I gotta find Charlie.”

  “We’ll go, we’ll go. I just need to tell Maya, I mean Ms. Logan, and her daughter what’s going on.”

  He stepped into the doorway to scan the room. In view of the mess the children had made while playing on the floor, it was hard to tell that the tornado had actually skipped over their facility. Greg smiled when his gaze found Maya’s.

  “She’s fine. Layla’s fine,” Maya called out, waving excitedly. “Come on in.”

  Greg shook his head. “Can’t right now. Tommy and I are going to go looking for Charlie, like we promised, and I need to stop by the hardware store, too. Michael needs a generator.”

  “Then we’ll come with you,” Maya said quickly and firmly. “I want to see what’s left of my house and check on some friends. We can drop Tommy by his foster parents’ house on the way. The Otises live over on First Street, across from the schools.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to it?” Greg eyed her feet once again.

  “Yes, I’m sure. I got here in one piece and I can get back the way we came just as well as you can. Besides, if I want any other shoes, I have to go home to get them.”

  “That sounds reasonable.” He had to tighten his grip on the wiggly boy. “Hurry it up. Tommy’s giving me fits.”

  “When has he not?” With Layla in tow she joined them at the open door. “I know I shouldn’t be smiling, in view of all that’s happened, but I can’
t help myself. I’m just so happy to be with my daughter again.”

  “I imagine a lot of folks feel that way. I hardly know what to think or do myself. This whole picture is too unbelievable to take in all at once. Half of me wants to mourn while the other half can’t help grinning about the most inane things.”

  “The buildings can be rebuilt,” she said wisely. “It’s the people I care about who worry me now. And I’m sure Tommy’s foster parents are beside themselves.”

  “Maybe Charlie went home,” the boy piped up. “He has a dog house and everything.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” Maya said.

  She lifted her small daughter and they started to leave the church grounds together. Yes, the dog may have survived, he told himself. In view of the loss of the gazebo and many of the other structures in the vicinity where they’d last spotted the scraggly mutt, however, it was iffy. Then again, if Charlie was half as streetwise as Greg thought he was, he could also be in the next county—or farther—by now.

  Unfortunately, he may have been so frightened by the turbulence and devastation he might never decide to come back.

  Maya’s arms and back ached from toting the three-year-old on first one hip, then the other, yet she refused to put her down.

  “I can walk,” Layla kept insisting.

  “I know you can, honey. But it’s too dangerous, especially since you’re wearing shorts and sandals. Look at all the nails and sharp, pointy things that can hurt you. Mama needs to carry you just a bit farther.”

  “Um, I’m not real used to kids but I suppose I can take her for you if you need a break,” Greg offered.

  “No. I’m fine. I don’t mind a bit.”

  “You just don’t want to let go of her, right?”

  Maya had to smile. “How did you know?”

  “It’s basic human nature. You’re her mother and you need to be close to her right now.”

  “Boy, is that the truth.” She sobered. “Look at all this. I don’t even know where to think of beginning.”

  “The rescuers are starting their searches,” her boss observed. “I saw one of the patrol cars wrecked back there but apparently there are enough undamaged police units and fire trucks to get the job done. At least I hope so.”