Finally Home

by Lyn Cote

  The phone rang.

  With a grimace, Guthrie picked up the receiver of the wall phone. “What? Don’t worry. I’ll come right in.”

  “What is it?” His expression had her worried.

  “The creeks have overflowed their banks. My aunts need me.”

  Flood? She stood up, carefully letting the kitten jump down. “I’m coming with you.”

  “The river is expected to crest at Portage four feet above flood level in two days.”

  “What does that mean to Petite?” She imagined her parents’ new house being washed away.

  “The downtown near the bridge will be under water.”

  Lynda and the aunts’ houses flooded! “Oh, no.”

  “The state is sending out sandbags. The Red Cross will be bringing in volunteers. I’ve got to get to town and start helping my family get ready.”

  “Wait for me. It’ll only take me a minute to get into jeans and sweatshirt. Please write a note for my parents.”

  “I’m just going to my aunt’s to move stuff from the basement to the attic. You don’t—”

  “Please wait for me.” She raced for the stairs.

  About three hours later, Hannah’s hands quivered with exhaustion as she held a cup of decaf coffee.

  “Guthrie, you and Hannah need to get some rest,” Aunt Ida said as she poured cream into her own cup.

  After hours of working silently beside Hannah and Guthrie, Brandon had refused coffee and had gone to bed.

  Guthrie looked up. “We still need to move—”

  “We’re putting our foot down.” Edith shook her finger at him. “Now Ida is going to bunk in with me tonight. Hannah, you will take my bed—”

  Hannah objected, “No, I—”

  Ida wagged her finger at Hannah. “Don’t argue. Guthrie can sleep on the couch in the parlor.”

  For the second time that night, Hannah found herself dressed for bed, this time in a borrowed lavender-flowered nightgown. Edith’s room had been stripped of almost everything but the bed. Even the rose-patterned rug had been rolled up. Guthrie planned to store their beds and the sofa in Hannah’s parents’ unfinished home, which perched well above flood stage.

  Bone-weary, Hannah sighed and lay down upon the bed. Moving furniture had been exhausting, but her earlier conversation with Guthrie about Brandon had taken its toll, too. The two brothers had worked side by side, but Brandon’s bitter words had been too fresh for both of them to put aside. She’d seen them trying to cooperate, but the hurt was still there between them.

  Fatigue weighed down her arms and legs. Her thoughts drifted. Dawn would come within a few short hours. Just as she closed her eyes, she heard Guthrie groan and collapse onto the sofa. So near and yet so far.

  For a second, Hannah savored the memory of Guthrie’s tender kisses. They had drawn her heart closer to him and evoked a longing for more. She took in a ragged breath.

  Lord, help Guthrie learn to let the past go. Soften his heart toward his brother. I’m so tired…. Goodnight. I mean, amen.

  Morning dawned, a rainy blustery morning. In her Packer sweatshirt and jeans from last night, Hannah stood in the aunts’ kitchen talking on the phone to Lynda. Around her, the two aunts were cooking a substantial breakfast for them, scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes. The delightful fragrances made Hannah’s stomach do flip-flops of anticipation.

  “What?” Hannah couldn’t believe what Lynda had just said.

  “Bill has to leave this morning for a court appearance in Oneida County,” Lynda repeated. “I’m going with him.”

  “When will you be back?”

  “He said we’ll be back as soon as we can. He said it could take more than one day.”

  “How serious is it?”

  “It’s a misdemeanor left over from his past. He’s hoping the judge will dismiss the charge in light of the changes he’s made in his life. He has a lawyer hired and affidavits from his drug counselor and boss in Chicago, his boss here and your father.”

  “You said we. He’s letting you go with him?”

  “Yes, I pestered him till he finally gave in. Mom and the great-aunts will take care of the kids.”

  Hannah’s heart sank. This development would hit Guthrie when he was already down. “Okay. I’ll be praying for Billy.”

  “Don’t worry, Hannah. I know Guthrie will be upset, but Bill couldn’t put this off any longer.”

  Guthrie, followed by Brandon, entered the kitchen.

  “Your sister wants to speak to you.” Hannah handed him the phone.

  “What is it, Lynda?” Guthrie asked gruffly.

  Hannah sat at the table and gave him a tentative smile. This news on top of everything else gave new meaning to the phrase, “It never rains but it pours.”

  Guthrie listened with a worried look. “Do you have to go with him?” Pause. “Okay. We’ll pray for you two.” He hung up and sat across from her.

  Brandon slid into the chair beside Hannah. “Good morning.”

  Hannah greeted him an uneasy smile.

  “What’s wrong?” Brandon glanced at her, then at his brother.

  “More bad luck,” Guthrie muttered. “Can’t anything go right?”

  “Now we’ll have none of that at the breakfast table,” Aunt Ida scolded from the stove where she was flipping pancakes. “A lot has gone right. We’ve got Hannah and her parents.”

  “And Bill’s back,” Edith added. “By the way, I think we should call him Bill now. He’s grown up.”

  “That’s right,” Ida concurred. “And Brandon’s home finally.”

  Guthrie’s expression didn’t lighten.

  “Now cheer up, Guthrie,” Ida urged.

  Brandon nodded. “Yeah, you don’t have any real problems. No one’s divorcing you.”

  “Brandon, it wasn’t right for you to take up with Deirdre right after she broke up with your brother.” Ida shook her spatula at him.

  “You wouldn’t have liked it if he’d done that to you,” Edith agreed. She was lifting bacon out of the cast iron frying pan onto paper toweling.

  “And we knew that Deirdre only married you, Brandon, to get out of this town.” Ida scooped the last of the griddle cakes onto a platter and brought them to the table.

  Edith began cooking scrambled eggs. “The fact is she didn’t love either of you.”

  “She’s the kind of woman who never brings peace to a home, only strife.” Ida poured everyone coffee and sat down.

  The two men stared at their great-aunts, plainly not believing their ears.

  Brandon recovered first. “I wish you’d told me all this nearly four years ago,” he said with a sour twist to his mouth.

  “Deirdre was what we used to call a siren. You wouldn’t have listened to us four years ago.” Edith put the platter of bacon and eggs on the table and sat down.

  Ida nodded. “No, just like if we told Guthrie now that he’d better hold on to Hannah and not let her leave Petite, he wouldn’t listen, either.”

  Hannah pursed her lips, but a giggle still slipped out of her mouth. Leave it to the aunts! “Thank you, ladies.”

  Guthrie started to speak, but was interrupted.

  “Any time, dear.” Ida patted Hannah’s hand. “Edith, will you say the blessing?”

  They all joined hands and Edith said, “Dear God, please give the young men and women who will be sandbagging today strength, good health and safety. Please give our nephews the faith and wisdom they need to end the strife in this family. Thank you, Lord, for everything, even this flooding. Amen.”

  The prayer touched Hannah’s emotions. This was the prayer of the truly faithful, thanking God for everything, even the trials. She swallowed to keep back tears. Too little sleep and too much conflict were getting to her.

  “Guthrie, don’t frown so,” Ida said gently. “Bill and Lynda will be back before we know it. And in the meantime you can concentrate on settling things with Brandon.”

  Hannah’s eyes widened. The aunts’ batteries were ce
rtainly charged today!

  “I’m just supposed to forget my feelings?” Guthrie frowned. “I don’t have any right to them, I suppose?”

  “No, that’s not what your aunt means,” Hannah declared. “She just means life goes on. Bill deserted his family but has now changed. Your brother has discovered the truth about his wife and is going to have to go through a painful divorce—”

  Ida cut in. “That’s right, dear. Now, everyone, eat! Angry words upset digestion!”

  Guthrie nodded. “I’ll be fine. We’ve gotten through worse than this.” He lifted his fork, but in spite of his brave words, his defeated expression hurt Hannah’s heart. He looked like a man without hope. How could he entertain thoughts of a future they might share if he couldn’t hope?

  “Eat your breakfast, Guthrie.” Aunt Ida frowned. “It will be a long hard day.”

  “Yes,” Edith said, “after you finish moving Lynda’s belongings up to the attic, you’ll have a rough day or two of sandbagging. The state has started down by the bridge over the river by Lila’s motel. The Red Cross is due by noon.”

  As if in response, the rain outside gushed harder. Hannah quivered at the thought of going back outside to be drenched again, but it couldn’t be avoided. Whether Guthrie continued to reject the possibility of a happy ending for Brandon, Lynda or himself, the whole town of Petite faced a long hard fight to keep the water at bay.

  Hannah closed her eyes for a moment. Lord, Guthrie is a wonderful man, but please shake him out of this new slump, this dark valley we’re in. Maybe it will never work out for us, but he needs help to accept Brandon back into his family. Please be with Bill and Lynda today as they try to put the past behind them once and for all. Soothe Brandon’s broken heart. And lift Guthrie’s spirits. Give him back his hope. I think I love him, Lord!

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hannah had water in her boots and mud up her nose. In a line of about twenty-five volunteers, she and Guthrie worked side by side moving sandbags to reinforce the river levee. Guthrie handed her another soggy, sand-filled cloth bag. Her arms had the strength of overcooked spaghetti. Shivering in the cold rain, she nearly dropped it, but managed with a grunt to heft it on to the next person. Since morning light they’d lifted a mountain of bags to create a wall to protect Petite from the waters of the Wisconsin River, their only hope to keep Petite from flooding.

  Without warning, Hannah’s knees buckled. She sank down in the soupy mud that surrounded them. The steady rain and cold gusts beat against her hooded yellow rain slicker. Her heart raced, and she breathed rapidly as if she’d been running. We still have more bags to put into place!

  “What’s wrong?” Guthrie asked.

  “I can’t get up.” She felt like a flattened toothpaste tube—all her stuff had been used up. She knew she should feel something about this. But a pervasive numbness tamped down everything except the sensations of being exhausted and cold to the bone.

  A man wearing a Red Cross vest ran down the line tapping shoulders. “Come on. A group of students from Madison has come to relieve you. The Red Cross van has hot coffee and sandwiches. And there are blankets and cots at the church. You’ve done a great job! Now move out and make room for the fresh workers.”

  Catching her hands, Guthrie pulled Hannah to her feet. She leaned against him as he half-carried her up the levee. Without his support, she knew she would be crawling on her belly up the muddy incline.

  “Guthrie!” a familiar voice called. “Hannah?”

  Hannah looked up to find her sister right in front of her. “Doree!” Shock. Joy. She threw her arms around her sister’s slender shoulders. “Why? What…”

  “I came as soon as I heard the announcement on the TV asking for volunteers. How are Mom and Dad?”

  Hannah found herself weeping.

  Wearing a red vinyl poncho like a beacon in the gray scene, Doree put one hand on each side of Hannah’s face. “Hannah, what’s wrong! Did something happen to—”

  “She’s just overtired.” Guthrie reclaimed Hannah so she could lean against him again. “We’ve been tossing around furniture and sandbags since breakfast.”

  “Mom and Dad are fine.” Hannah tried to smile. “They’re coordinating with the Red Cross at the church. I’m fine. If only this rain would stop.”

  “I’ve got to go now. Tell them I’ll see them later.” Doree walked backward, still talking. “I’ll talk with you later!”

  Hannah nodded as Guthrie led her away. She looked up and gave him a weak smile.

  “Don’t worry.” Guthrie tucked her closer. “We’re going to the Red Cross van. We’ll pick up some food, then head for the church to sleep.”

  Soon he sat her in a chair in the warm church basement. A plate of sandwiches sat on her lap. She couldn’t remember carrying them.

  “Eat,” Guthrie ordered.

  She stared at the food, unable to pick up a sandwich. “I…can’t.”

  “Here.” He lifted a cup of coffee to her lips. “Careful. It’s hot. Just sip it.”

  Strong hot coffee trickled inside her, warming as it went. “I’m so cold.”

  “That wind made us feel the chill more.” He held a sandwich to her lips. “Eat.”

  She opened her mouth, bit and chewed. “I’ll try to feed myself.” She couldn’t remember that chewing had ever been such hard work before. Her taste buds seemed to be out of order, too. She only felt the texture of bread on her tongue. She glanced at Guthrie. He looked as though eating had become a chore for him, also. “You need to eat, too.”

  “I don’t need any encouragement.” He devoured a sandwich in two bites and picked up another. With his other hand, he put her sandwich to her lips. “Come on. A few more bites and you’ll get enough strength to finish your meal.”

  “Okay.” She chewed and swallowed another bite. Tuna fish, the sandwich was tuna fish.

  With a groan, Brandon collapsed onto the chair next to them. “Whew. My muscles are getting muscles.”

  She stared at him. Her tired brain reminded her Brandon and Guthrie were at odds, but she couldn’t manage to act as a buffer between them right now. She needed to focus all her energy on taking her sandwich from Guthrie’s hand and lifting it to her mouth.

  “I’m surprised you’ve held up, big brother,” Guthrie said in a calm voice, then devoured another sandwich.

  Hannah concentrated on chewing. Guthrie was right. The food and coffee were bringing her back.

  “I’m not the weakling you may think I am.” Brandon swallowed half a sandwich. “I work out regularly. But I am tired.”

  “So am I,” Guthrie said.

  “Wow.” Brandon’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m surprised to hear you admit that.”

  “Don’t fuss,” Hannah mumbled. Finishing her sandwich and coffee, she handed the plate and cup to Brandon. The food had made her feel human again, but her exhaustion couldn’t wait. “I can’t sit up anymore. I’ve got to lie down.”

  Handing his plate to his brother, Guthrie jumped up and led her to cots that had been set up in the Sunday school rooms. She lay down on the first empty one and fell asleep instantly.

  Guthrie gazed at her, warm emotions surging through him. Hannah. She’d worked beside him last night and all day, helping out the town she’d only lived in for a couple of months. She’d worked as hard as any of them. She’d become a part of them already. What a woman!

  Bending over her, he pulled off her boots, which stuck out over the end of the cot, and opened her slicker. “Take a break, Hannah. You deserve it.” The temptation to kiss her lured him. Her soft lips invited his touch, but he’d been such a jerk lately. What had gotten into him, grumbling at everyone? At Hannah. She’d talked to him straight, spoken the truth. His bruised heart felt a touch of warmth, healing.

  “She’s really something, you know that?” Brandon appeared at his elbow.

  Guthrie kept his gaze on Hannah’s face. “Yes, she’s a real lady.”

  “Don’t let her get away.” Brandon t
urned.

  Guthrie caught his brother’s elbow. “I’m…I’m glad….”

  Brandon glanced over his shoulder. “I’m glad I’m here this time, too. Will you give me another chance?”

  Guthrie thought a second, picking out his words with care. “Our family always gives a second chance.”

  Brandon blinked back tears and walked away quickly.

  Guthrie stared at Hannah. Will you give me a second chance? I’ve let my family, my anger get in the way. Would she give him the right to kiss her, to love her?

  “Hannah! Hannah!”

  Hannah opened her eyes and stared at the strange ceiling. Where am I?

  “Hannah!”

  Small hands tugged at her shoulder.

  She glanced into Amber’s face. “What is it?”

  “Misty’s not in the church. She’s lost.”

  Hannah’s mind tried to process the sentence. Couldn’t.

  “Our kitty’s lost!” Jenna shouted from the other side of Hannah. “Help us!”

  Hannah sat up. “When did you find that she was lost?”

  Amber looked near tears. “We were playing with her, but she wanted to go outside—”

  Jenna cut in. “Mommy told us not to go outside. But we didn’t have a cat box.”

  Amber took over again. “So we let Misty outside. But she didn’t come back!”

  “Where’s your mother?” Hannah stretched, trying to wake up her stiff and aching body. She slid her feet into her soggy rubber boots.

  “She’s outside helping put up the sandbags so the water doesn’t get us,” Jenna replied.

  “But we don’t want the water to get Misty, either.” Amber’s teary eyes were as round as dimes.

  Hannah stood up, tugging her yellow slicker around her. If she didn’t take care of this, the children would disturb someone else or try to find the cat themselves and probably get lost or worse. “Okay.”

  “You’ll take us to find her?”

  “No, you girls must stay here inside where it’s warm and dry. Who’s taking care of you?”

  “The great-aunts.” Amber took Hannah’s hand.

  “Take me to them.”

  Through the darkened church basement, where volunteers slept on cots and floor, the girls led her to the church kitchen. Both the aunts lay, curled up in blankets, sleeping on the benches on each side of the built-in table. In the low light, Hannah looked at the kitchen clock that read five forty-seven. Barely sunup. She sighed.