“Is everything all right?” Ezra asked with concern as Estrella ended the call.
“Sí, Dr. Ezra. The children are home from school. My mother just wanted me to know,” she reported.
“You need to go home to them,” Ezra said. Lillian looked at him. He had clearly paid her objections to that idea no mind.
But Estrella answered before she could jump into the conversation. “They are well, Dr. Ezra. I’m staying here, with you and Mrs. Elliot. I cannot leave you alone in the storm.”
Lillian was relieved to hear that. Well, she was paid a nice sum to watch over them, and her job was fairly easy. She should stay here; there was no question in Lillian’s mind. Estrella’s mother could watch over her children. She did it all the time, didn’t she?
If only the wind would let up. That was the worst part, Lillian thought. It was getting on her nerves and sounded even worse in the dark. Howling gusts beat against the old house like an old woman beating a rug with a broom. That’s what she pictured—it was the way they cleaned in her day—and it felt as if the house might be beaten and blown right off its foundation. She knew that at least one wooden shutter had been pulled off and flung to the front lawn. And a few shingles. She imagined the house would have even more bare patches and tiles from the slate roof missing before it was all through.
Earlier, she watched the huge trees on the hill behind her property from the window in the kitchen. She saw a very tall one, at least three stories high, slowly tilt to one side and then come crashing down. Luckily, it had fallen in a woodsy spot, nowhere near the house. But it had still been frightening. When she came back to Ezra’s room, she didn’t tell him. No need to make him worry more in his condition.
There was a sound at the back door and they all looked up.
“Must be Emily, coming in with her key.” Lillian put her handwork aside and started to get up.
“I’ll go, Mrs. Elliot. You shouldn’t walk around in the dark. It’s not safe,” Estrella said.
“She’s right, sit tight, Lily. We don’t want you taking a spill. Enough folks are lying around here with casts on right now,” Ezra said.
Lillian hated to be ordered around but stayed in the room nonetheless, standing at the foot of Ezra’s bed.
Emily appeared a few moments later, wearing a rain slicker that was a startling shade of yellow. Visible from a satellite in outer space, Lillian suspected. She carried a huge flashlight that was practically blinding.
Lillian had to raise her hand to her eyes. “My word. Do you need to keep that thing so bright?”
Emily turned the light to the floor and Lillian noticed that Dan had come, too, and was standing just behind her daughter.
“Sorry, Mother. It’s standard-issue for village employees. It’s all hands on deck tonight. Dan came out to help me, thank goodness. Janie is at Jessica’s,” she added, in case Lillian was wondering about her granddaughter.
Dan stepped forward, also wearing an impossibly bright yellow slicker. “Is everyone all right here? How are you doing?”
“We’re holding up. Nothing much we can do. Some dinner would be nice. My stomach is growling,” Lillian said honestly.
“Not served in the dining room tonight, on the good china,” Ezra cut in.
“Of course not,” Lillian huffed at him, though she knew what he was driving at. She did have a tendency to . . . overnormalize in an emergency. Was that such a bad thing, while everyone else was losing their minds? Cooler heads must prevail.
“I’ve brought you some soup and sandwiches. It’s in the kitchen. Estrella is bringing it all in on a tray.”
“On a tray? Why can’t we eat in the kitchen?” Lillian was feeling claustrophobic, stuck in this room in the dark for the last few hours. The kitchen would be some change of scene.
“We can’t get Ezra out of bed and into the kitchen tonight, Mother. Be reasonable.”
Lillian glanced at her husband. “I’ll sit with him here while he eats, and then have mine in the kitchen.” She would eat her soup at a normal table, she added silently. Not slurp it all over herself like a second convalescent.
“Lily, let’s get the big picture here. What does it matter where we eat our soup?” Ezra struggled to sit up straighter in bed, and Dan stepped over to help, giving him a firm lift. “Should we go to an evacuation center, Emily? Estrella needs to get back to her family. I won’t keep her here. I really won’t,” he insisted.
“An evacuation center? Are you daft? I will not end up on a cot in some drafty gymnasium. We’re perfectly fine right where we are. You go if you really want to,” Lillian told him. She couldn’t see how he could, if he couldn’t even get to the kitchen safely.
“Now, now. Calm down, you two. Please.” Emily took off her slicker and put it on a chair. It was dripping on the floor, but Lillian stopped herself from saying anything.
Before Emily could say more, Estrella came in with a tray. The food looked and smelled very good, and Lillian broke down, too hungry to wait to eat in the kitchen.
“I’ll have mine over here, on this little lamp table,” she told Estrella as she served Ezra on his bed tray. “Please,” she added as an afterthought.
“And then you should go home, Estrella. Emily will take you. You can get her home in some truck or something, can’t you?” Ezra asked Emily.
“The town vehicle that dropped us off will be back in a while. I just have to call.”
Lillian knew Emily was very circumspect about using the town services for anything that had to with her personal needs or family. But Estrella was a village resident, virtually stranded here. So she supposed Emily had reasoned it out that way.
“I appreciate that, Ms. Warwick. But as I told your parents, I need to stay here with them tonight. It’s not safe for them alone.”
Her cell phone rang, and she answered it. Lillian squirmed at the note of worry in her tone. “¿Mamá . . . ? ¿Qué pasa?”
Lillian made a face and started eating. More drama.
The conversation was again brief and Estrella put the phone away. “My mother is taking the children to a neighbor a few doors down. They live on a higher floor. She was afraid our cottage would be flooded. Water was coming in on the porch.”
“Oh my, that’s awful. See, they need you.” He glanced at Emily. “You need to take her to her family. I won’t hear any more objections. We’ll manage all right. Someone can come check on us in the morning.”
“Yes, we’ll survive . . . I hope,” Lillian said quietly. She patted her mouth with a napkin. Scratchy paper; she hated that. But one needed to make do in an emergency. As everyone kept reminding her.
“I’ll stay with you,” Dan offered. “If you can spare me?” he asked his wife.
“Thank you, honey. That’s a good idea. You stay for a while and I’ll come back here later. I think there’s only so much I can do out there until it stops raining.” Emily turned to Estrella first. “I appreciate that you want to stay, Estrella, but Ezra is right. Your children and mother are most important. They need you. I’ll take you to them right away.”
“All right, Ms. Warwick. If you say. Thank you.” Estrella looked at Lillian. “I’ll get everything ready so Dr. Ezra will have his medications on time, and you can check his vital signs, Mrs. Elliot.”
“Yes, yes, we can do that.” Lillian brushed aside her concerns. “Dan here can help me, I’m sure.”
“Yes, of course,” Dan assured Estrella. “Just show me what I need to know.”
Dan followed Estrella to the kitchen. It was some comfort that Dan was taking over for tonight.
This storm is a trial on many fronts, isn’t it? Lillian hoped all the hullabaloo would soon be over.
Chapter Nine
THE RAIN ENDED TUESDAY AROUND NOON, THOUGH STRONG winds and a light drizzle prevailed. Amanda followed her parents outside to look over the property. Tree branches littered the lawn and two trees had fallen, but they didn’t hit anything, luckily. The house next door had not been so fortuna
te. A large tree had crashed into the roof, tearing a hole right through it.
“Oh, too bad for the Nelsons. We were so lucky,” Molly said, turning to Matt.
“More than lucky, I’d say.” Her father started gathering up the branches and putting them in a wheelbarrow. Amanda helped.
She heard her mother’s phone ring and saw her answer it. It was her aunt Jessica calling again to see how they were. Her mother listened a few minutes, then said, “Of course we can help. Just tell me what time.”
A few moments later, she finished the call and walked over to Amanda and her dad, who were heaping all the branches in a pile at the back of the property.
“Reverend Ben is setting up a comfort center at church. Jessica said a few of the deacons are going to hook up a generator there tonight and open up tomorrow. She said to bring any clothes we want to donate and food and things. I’m going to bring some food from the shop. I have to empty out the freezers anyway.”
“That’s a good idea. We should all go over and help. I can’t open my office without electricity. Well, only for emergencies,” Matt added. “And there’s no school tomorrow. We already know that.”
The school district had called and closed schools through Wednesday, and it could be even longer, Amanda thought.
“It will be good to do something productive,” Amanda said. “All those photos on the news are getting to me.”
They had learned from the news that the houses and businesses in Cape Light had gotten off lightly compared to many of the waterfront towns nearby. Cape Light’s harbor was protected by land masses, but that was not the case in nearby Spoon Harbor, Hamilton, and Essex. Many beachfront houses had been washed right off their foundations or otherwise destroyed by the tide and winds. People had lost all their possessions, houses and cars, boats . . . everything was washed away in the monster storm.
Amanda realized again how lucky she really was. “I have a lot of old clothes I’ve been meaning to give to charity. I’ll go upstairs and sort it out,” she said.
“Me, too. I have a ton of stuff,” her mother replied. “We should all clean out our closets and get everything together in bags. Jessica said they need shoes and coats . . . and blankets. Let’s see what we can find.”
Amanda was grateful for the assignment. She was starting to feel bored and cooped up. The first night of the storm had been exciting, and even fun, eating dinner by the fire and playing board games. But she didn’t look forward to more of the same. Once it got dark out, it felt very cold and dismal in the house. It was hard to live without all the creature comforts and technology she took for granted. She could have used the time to practice, but had been forced to leave her cello at church.
She wondered if the church had been damaged. Her aunt hadn’t mentioned that. Amanda knew at least a few panes of glass in the big windows had been broken . . . and she knew who would be called to fix them.
* * *
THERE WERE STILL A FEW LARGE PUDDLES IN THE CHURCH PARKING lot, but not enough to daunt the crowd that had come to help on Wednesday morning. Even Betty was eager to get inside and see what was going on. Outside, the nearby playground on the green was closed, with village workers all over the area, cleaning up debris. They were accompanied by a throng of gulls, who were pecking at the seaweed and shellfish that had ended up so far in from the harbor.
Amanda made her way inside with her family, tugging their big black trash bags full of donations. Long tables had been set up in Fellowship Hall, and many people were there, sorting clothes into neatly folded piles for women, men, and children. Blankets and other household goods were being sorted on the other side of the room, and in the hallway near the kitchen, more tables held nonperishable foods—soup, oatmeal, peanut butter, pasta, tuna fish—along with cases and huge bottles of water. So many towns didn’t have any water supply right now.
Amanda had listened to the news on the radio that morning. It was hard to believe how many people were suffering and how much they had lost. Donations of clothes and food would not go very far toward replacing these losses, but it would be something, she reasoned.
Amanda soon lost sight of her parents. Everyone was going different ways. Her father left the church with her uncle Sam and a few other men to help some older congregants who were stuck in their homes. Her mother automatically gravitated toward the kitchen. Amanda followed as far as the door. It was filled with women, all much older and far better cooks than she.
“I’ve never seen such a thing, and I’ve lived here all my life.” Sophie Potter was at the stove, where two huge pots gave off the pleasing aroma of fresh clam chowder.
“It was just as bad in sixty-three,” Grace Hegman countered. “Don’t you remember?”
“I don’t recall nearly as many trees coming down,” Sophie replied. “But that was a wicked one, no question.”
Amanda watched her mother make her presence known and then slowly wheedle her way into the cooking. Amanda turned away with a smile. Before too long, Molly would have taken over the stove and Grace would be out in Fellowship Hall, sorting jars of peanut butter.
“Let’s help in here, Betty,” Amanda said to her little sister as they entered the hall. Betty clung to her hand, seeming daunted by the crowd. But once they were in the big room, she spotted a group of her little friends, helping their Sunday school teacher sort out children’s clothing.
“I’m going to help Miss Pam,” she told Amanda, then darted off.
Well, that was easy. Amanda had expected to have her little shadow around all day. Now she had to figure out where she could help.
Her aunt Jessica walked by, carrying a pail full of rags and two mops. “Can I help you clean something?” Amanda offered.
“There’s water all over the sanctuary floor. Some windows are broken.”
Amanda knew that already. She took a mop and followed Jessica to the sanctuary. A few of the deacons were there, along with Reverend Ben. They had pushed the pews to one side of the wooden floor and were cleaning up water and debris on the other.
“Amanda, good to see you,” Reverend Ben greeted her. “I was so relieved to hear that you got home all right.” Reverend Ben had called her house the night of the storm, just to make sure she was home safe.
“I saw the windows in here break that day,” Amanda admitted. “I should have told you then.”
“Don’t let it trouble you,” he replied. “I don’t think anything could have been done until the storm was over anyway. And Gabriel has already patched them up with duct tape and plastic.”
Gabriel was here. Amanda had to force herself not to look around for him. She hoped he hadn’t already left.
“But I should never have left you and Mrs. Honeyfield here,” Reverend Ben went on. “The weather report I was listening to said the heavy rain wouldn’t start until the evening, and I believed them.”
“That’s all right, Reverend. The storm came in faster than anyone expected. I’m just glad I’m here to help clean up.”
“So am I. What’s that saying—‘many hands make light work’?” said another voice.
Amanda turned to see Gabriel. He stood nearby, smiling at her, a large mop in hand. The minister was called away then by someone with a question, and Amanda found herself alone with Gabriel.
“I thought you would be in Texas by now. Did the storm delay your trip?”
Amanda shook her head. “I didn’t get called for the audition.”
“Oh . . . I’m sorry. That’s too bad.” He looked genuinely concerned for her. “You must be disappointed.”
“Yeah, I am. Or, I was. Until the storm came. It’s been a big distraction,” she admitted. “And it put things in perspective. I mean, in the big picture—having a roof over your head and your loved ones safe and all your belongings and memories not floating away—missing out on a job isn’t such a big deal, right?”
He nodded. “Right. Totally. I think the last few days have helped a lot of people count their blessings.”
&nb
sp; He started mopping the water and she did, too, working near him.
“How about your house? Was there any damage?” she asked.
“No, we got off easy. But a tree fell on the back of my shop and broke some glass, my own projects mostly. I should have stored them more carefully, I guess. But it’s a small thing when you compare it to what other people have lost and are going through.”
Amanda glanced at him, wondering if he was really all right about his artwork being ruined. It was hard to tell. She didn’t know him all that well yet, she realized. “Well, it is a loss. It’s your work, and it’s irreplaceable. I’d like to see some of it sometime,” she added.
He was squeezing out the mop, and the muscles in his arms showed through his long-sleeved cotton shirt. “Sure, anytime . . . Does that mean you’re sticking around?”
She wasn’t sure how to answer that. She didn’t plan on staying here forever, but it seemed that God had a different plan for her right now. “Oh, I’ll be here awhile, I guess. There’s not much going on around the holidays.”
“Good. Then maybe we can go out sometime, to the movies or something? When you don’t have any practice sessions or Barbie parties planned,” he teased her.
Amanda knew now there were few plans she would not cancel to go out on a date with him. “I’d like that,” she said honestly.
“Good. We’ll figure it out,” he promised.
They worked together for the rest of the afternoon, first cleaning up the sanctuary and then working in Fellowship Hall sorting clothes.
Amanda found she was getting to know Gabriel in a different way. He was still charming and friendly but not always so glib and teasing. He was kind and patient with older people, like Digger Hegman, who came to their table to help sort and wound up telling stories about the “heavy weather” he had seen at sea.
“There was this one storm, the waves were higher than a house. Higher than the church steeple probably. We were three men on board and tied ourselves down in the cockpit. We was rocking and rolling. Didn’t know which side was up. Figured we were going to sink or that boat was going to get broke apart, like a hammer cracking a nut. We were praying and crying. Ain’t no nonbelievers in a storm like that one,” he added with a cackling laugh.
Songs of Christmas Page 17
