Route 66 Reunions

by Mildred Colvin

  A sigh escaped as she settled back against her heels. “I’ll be staying with Mom and Dad.”

  She brought her gaze back to Jeffrey’s name. “At least it’s only temporary, until I get my own place. Anyway, I couldn’t leave California without saying good-bye.”

  She shifted her position, moving closer to a small grave beside her husband’s and placed a bouquet of baby’s breath in the vase set in front of the marble slab. Tears blurred her vision as she read the engraving. CHARITY FAITH WILSON. GOD’S LOVE BROUGHT YOU INTO OUR LIVES FOR SUCH A SHORT TIME.

  A sob escaped before Amanda could hold it back. She held a tissue to her eyes then covered her trembling lips. Five years since she held her tiny daughter. The hurt was no longer fresh and constant as it had once been, but leaving Charity’s grave would be hard.

  “My precious baby, I miss you so much. I love you, Charity. I always will.”

  Amanda stood and looked from one stone to another. She and Jeffrey had married much too quickly and for all the wrong reasons. Still, she’d grown to love him and would miss him for the rest of her life. Sometimes little Charity seemed a distant memory brought real by the empty ache in her arms. An ache that would never ease because her arms would never hold another child of her own.

  “Good-bye, Jeffrey. Good-bye, Charity,” she whispered before turning on her heel and making her way across the cemetery to her car. Time to go home.

  She turned the ignition key and let the engine warm while she took one last look at the stones sitting side by side across the cemetery. In her imagination she sensed Jeffrey and Charity urging her to get on with her life.

  A sigh escaped. Why Litchfield? Sometimes it was so hard to know if the turning points in life were God ordained or only a cruel twist of life. She put the gearshift in drive and rolled out of the cemetery.

  She approached Santa Monica Boulevard and impulsively turned on her right blinker to go west. She hadn’t been to the beach for a long time and today was for good-byes. The street stopped at Ocean Avenue with a beautiful view of the beach and palm trees standing so tall and regal with the blue of the ocean and sky stretching beyond as if without end. She drove down to the beach and parked, then walked through the sand remembering the times she and Jeff had played with Charity here.

  Charity had loved to sift her fingers through the sand. Memories that had soothed her before now hurt because she’d leave them all behind in the morning. She had picture albums to remember the good times, but for today the loss overwhelmed her. She went to her car and drove back the way she’d come.

  The light changed to red as she approached the corner of Ocean Avenue and SANTA Monica Boulevard. As she waited for the light, a thought occurred to her. She was sitting at the end of Historic Route 66, a special road that stretched from Chicago to where she now sat in California. Tessa Donovan, in Amarillo, lived near the midpoint, and Sarah Nichols lived in Chicago where the road began. While connected by their friendship, the three of them were also connected by the Mother Road. So, if she drove home, this is where she’d start her journey, and she could stop and visit with each along the way.

  The idea was tempting, even though she didn’t intend to go as far as Chicago. Yet if she did, she could say she had traveled Route 66 from one end to the other. Of course, she’d be on the road for several days even with the faster interstate freeways that now covered so much of the original highway. The thought of driving across the country on freeways sent a shudder, especially strong after her visit to the cemetery, down Amanda’s backbone.

  With trembling fingers, she turned on the radio and welcomed the soft music that flowed from the speakers, relaxing her. She drove home for the last night in her apartment. Everything she owned had already been sold or given away, including the car she now drove. Tomorrow, Jeff ’s parents would take her to the airport where she’d catch a flight to Illinois.

  After disembarking at the Springfield, Illinois airport, Amanda rented a car for the last leg of her journey. As she merged onto Interstate 55 going south out of Springfield, she saw a road sign announcing Historic Route 66. She smiled. California didn’t seem so far away now. On a whim, she picked up her cell phone and punched in a familiar number.

  When Tessa answered, Amanda said, “Hey, guess where I am.”

  “Illinois?”

  “Yes, but I mean more specific. I’m on your favorite road just south of Springfield.”

  “Oh, Route 66. Be careful. You can meet some very strange people on that road.” She giggled and a male voice rumbled in the background.

  “Who was that? Blake?” Amanda smiled at the obvious happiness in her friend’s voice.

  Tessa laughed. “Yes, my dear husband’s objecting to being called strange. I’ve tried to tell him, if the shoe fits…”

  Amanda laughed with her and ignored the tiny poke of envy in her heart. While she drove ever closer home, she and Tessa talked and laughed until Tessa had to go. Amanda hung up with a smile. After their short conversation, she felt more relaxed about her move. Her next call was to her parents. They should be home from work by now.

  Mom answered.

  “Hi. I’m about home, Mom.”

  “Amanda, we could’ve met you at the airport. Or Karen could have.”

  In so many words, she could’ve let them know her arrival time. Amanda laughed. “Maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you. I wanted to rent a car anyway. It’s fine, Mom. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Okay?”

  After they hung up, she tossed her cell phone in the other seat and turned the radio on in time to catch a weather report. Most of central Illinois was under a tornado watch until six o’clock that evening. Music replaced the urgent message as if the announcement was of no importance. Amanda leaned forward to look up. A blanket of dark gray clouds she hadn’t noticed before now covered the sky.

  The clock on the car’s dash said five thirty. Thankfully, the tornado watch would be over in half an hour, about the time she reached home. Surely nothing would happen. The sky didn’t look bad to her. To further ease her mind, the clouds above thinned and a patch of blue appeared, sending sunshine streaking across the land.

  She entered Litchfield’s city limits. The blue sky dominated the expanse above with only scattered puffs of dark clouds as a reminder of what could have been.

  Amanda stopped in the drive of the rambling old house she’d grown up in. The two-story white frame home had been built a hundred years ago. The swing hanging at the end of the wide, welcoming front porch creaked as a breeze pushed it. Thank You, Lord, for a place to call home. A happy place.

  She sat a moment before releasing her seat belt. She had much to thank God for. Love of family ranked at the top.

  She stepped from the car into sunshine.

  “I’m so glad you made it safely.” Mom met her at the front door. “Did you know we’re under a tornado watch?”

  Amanda returned her mother’s hug. “Yes, but I think it’s blown over now.”

  “Do you need help unloading?” Dad asked.

  “No.” Amanda gave him a quick hug and lifted her small bag. “Here’s what I need for the night. I can get the rest tomorrow.”

  “That will work. Come on in and tell us what you’ve been up to.” Dad ushered them into the living room.

  Amanda told about her uneventful flight and said, “I rented a car rather than bother Karen. I’m sure she’s at work or was when we landed.”

  “Probably.” Mom shrugged. “I could’ve taken off work to pick you up, but maybe it’s best this way. How long will you keep the car?”

  “Not long. I’d like to buy my own.”

  “Until then, you might as well borrow mine and save the rental fee. Dad’s been taking me to work here lately anyway.” Mom stood. “I need to check on supper. Why don’t you come with me?”

  Dad glanced toward the door. “If you ladies will excuse me, I’ve got a baseball game I’d like to watch.”

  Amanda smiled at them and shook her head. “Don’t s
tart babysitting me. What I’d really like to do, unless you need help, is check out my room before sUPPER.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Mom headed toward the kitchen, and Dad went to the family room and the TV.

  With her overnight bag dropped on the floor of her old room upstairs, Amanda sank to the bed and fell back with her arms outstretched. The muffled sound of the sports announcer on TV in the family room directly below her rose to her room. Dad was watching a baseball game. She laughed and shook her head. Some things never changed. He always watched the sports channel before supper.

  The muted sound of the phone ringing brought Amanda from her bed and down the stairs. She followed her mother’s voice to the kitchen.

  “Hi, Karen. Yes, she got home a few minutes ago. No, there were a few storm clouds, but they cleared off.”

  Amanda got a drink of water from the refrigerator. She sipped her drink while listening to her mother’s side of the conversation with her older sister. Her fingers tightened on the glass when her mother’s eyes widened and a sharp gasp left her lips.

  “What is it?” Amanda asked.

  Mom shook her head. “Were there any injuries?” She listened a moment, and then closed her eyes. “Lord, help them.”

  “Mom?” Amanda set her glass on the counter as her mother hung the receiver back on the hook. “What’s happened?”

  Dad stepped out of the family room. “What’s going on? Who was that on the phone?”

  “Karen. She said Lakeland was hit by a tornado. They don’t know the extent of damage yet or how many are injured. But that isn’t all of it. A second tornado was sighted, and it’s also headed straight for Lakeland.”

  “How can that be?” Amanda looked out the window at the calm sunshine. Lakeland was fifteen miles away. It didn’t seem possible that the sky above Litchfield held only a few dark clouds that appeared to be moving away while tornadoes battered the neighboring town.

  Dad held his hand out, gesturing for them. “Let’s go in the family room where we can pray. We don’t know how bad it is, but God knows.”

  Amanda knelt with her parents on the carpet in front of the sofa. She bowed her head and listened to her father’s strong voice petition the Lord to protect their neighbors in Lakeland. She added her pleas as tears of concern and sympathy fell.

  Before they finished praying, the phone rang again. Amanda continued to pray while her mother answered. A few minutes later she came back into the room and sank into the easy chair beside the sofa with her head bowed.

  “That was Karen again. She says the tornado has passed and most of downtown Lakeland is leveled. It’s on the local station if you want to listen.”

  Dad pulled himself to his feet and crossed the room to the radio. They listened to the damage report of their neighboring town. Five minutes later he turned the radio off.

  The small town of less than two thousand in population had been hit hard. Most of the business district located on the north side of town was gone. Several homes were destroyed. Outlying farms had been leveled. Both tornadoes followed a similar path, the second taking what the first left. At least two lives had been lost, but the radio announcer said the number could rise as reports continued to come in.

  Amanda sat with her parents in stunned silence. To think only moments ago her greatest concern was moving back home with her parents for a few months. Her problems seemed so childish now. At least she had a roof over her head.

  Chad Randall turned away from Lakeland Cemetery. The short drive into town didn’t take long. He slowed his truck at the city limits to creep down the only cleared main street in the north side of Lakeland. If the heavy traffic was any indication, every thrill seeker in central Illinois was creeping along in front of him. Anger toward the insensitive curiosity of man tore through his heart. Why didn’t they stay at home and let these people grieve in private?

  Trees looked as if a giant wood shredder had chewed on the top branches, leaving bare, torn trunks in its wake. Foundations held floors of clutter with no walls. Broken glass and bricks covered the ground everywhere he looked.

  At the intersection he turned south, leaving the devastation behind. As he drove past untouched buildings and houses, he marveled at the power of the wind. Marveled and cursed it for taking his little sister.

  He turned into the parking lot of the state and county offices and stopped near the building. He stepped out of his truck, locked it, and went inside. The receptionist took him to a small private room that held a desk with two chairs facing it. He sat in one to wait for the social worker. When she entered the room, he rose.

  “Hello, I’m Mrs. Carter. Mr. Randall?”

  He nodded. “Chad Randall.”

  “Thank you for coming today. I’ve been working with your niece’s case and will help you any way I can.”

  He shook her hand and sat back down as she took the chair behind the desk.

  “Mr. Randall, first I want to tell you how sorry I am for your loss,” she began.

  He fought the anger and pain that rose to the surface every time he thought of his sister and, rude though it might be, he could not acknowledge her sympathy.

  “Your niece is being cared for in a local foster home—”

  “That’s why I’m here.” He cut into her planned speech. “My sister and brother-in-law wanted me to take her if anything happened to them. I’m all she has now. If you’ll tell me where she is, I’m prepared to get her.”

  Mrs. Carter held up a hand. “Mr. Randall, I’m sure you will gain custody of your niece in time. Before we discuss that, I’d like to ask you some questions.”

  Chad’s stomach clenched as he stared at the woman. Why did the government always have to make everything so difficult? “What do you need to know? Character references?”

  Mrs. Carter smiled. “I’m not accusing you of being an unfit uncle, but I would like to know where you intend to live. I understand you are Kara’s closest living relation?”

  Chad nodded. “Yes, my father died while I was in elementary school. My mother passed away a couple of years ago. Steve was raised in foster care. I don’t know what happened to his parents. I’m not sure he ever knew his biological father.”

  “I see.” Mrs. Carter glanced at the folder in front of her and made a notation. She met his gaze again. “The other day on the phone you mentioned you would be staying on your sister’s farm so you could rebuild. Have you seen the property yet?”

  “No, I got here as soon as I could. I came straight here after the funeral.”

  “I can sympathize that your concern is with your niece, but rest assured, she’s in good hands. The family she’s with has two teenage girls who love babies.” Mrs. Carter laughed. “She has the equivalent of three mothers fussing over her.”

  “Ma’am, with all due respect, they aren’t her family. She doesn’t know them.”

  Mrs. Carter nodded. “Yes, that was true at first, but she’s been there three days, since the night of the storm. Small children adapt quickly. Will you be staying at the farm?”

  Chad nodded. She had a point. He didn’t even know if he’d have shelter other than his truck. “What do I have to do to get custody of Kara?”

  “Since you will likely need a lawyer for probate, may I suggest that you begin proceedings with an attorney to obtain legal guardianship after you’ve had some time to see what you’re up against with the house? Go out and look things over. If you need help cleaning up and rebuilding, go to the courthouse and get on the list. I understand volunteers are being assigned work locations.” She looked down at the file again. “You teach at a high school in the northern part of the state, is that correct?”

  “Yes, in Rockford.”

  “I assume you have a home there?”

  “An apartment. I live alone. There hasn’t been need for a house, but if that’s what it takes, I’ll buy a house. I intend to raise Kara just as Jessica and Steve wanted.” She needed to understand.
“Steve might have been raised in foster homes, but he didn’t let his background keep him down. As an attorney, he saw the need to provide for his family. I’ll check with the firm. I’m sure he made provisions for Kara.”

  Mrs. Carter smiled. “It sounds as if Steven Jones was one of the rare successes that come out of the foster care system. I always love to hear of those.”

  “He was a good man.” Chad felt his throat tighten and didn’t say more.

  “I’m sure he was.” Mrs. Carter stood and so did Chad. “We’ll get this all ironed out, but for now, why don’t you take a look at the farm?”

  “In the meantime, may I see Kara?”

  “Absolutely. Let me call the Warners and set up a visit. Check back with me in the morning. We should know something then.”

  Chad bit his tongue to keep from saying what he thought of the delay. He wanted to see Jessica’s baby now. Rather, he wanted to take Kara home with him. His grief had been so intense that he’d barely thought of his niece beyond his need to get to her.

  He again shook hands with the social worker and left. He drove back to the center of the destruction and stopped at the four-way stop. This time he turned to the right—the opposite direction from the way he’d come into town—and drove four miles into the country before turning on the gravel road that led to what was left of his sister’s home.

  He stopped near the house. For a few minutes he sat in silence and stared out the windshield. The house still stood. So many houses in town had been leveled to the floors with no loss of life. He’d been told that Jessica and Steve had not died in the house. The neighbor who found them assumed that after the first storm passed, Steve went out to take a look at the damage to the barn. Jessica heard on the radio that another tornado was headed toward them and ran out to tell him to take cover. Before they reached shelter, the second tornado hit and flying debris from the barn killed both of them. The house didn’t appear to have been touched.

  He stepped from the truck and took a quick look around. The barn was little more than a pile of rubble. He walked around the house. Several windows had been shattered. In the backyard, he stopped and stared. A large maple tree leaned against the house with one branch buried in the roof.