Читать книгу Healing the Boss's Heart - Valerie Hansen - Страница 11

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 hurt 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.”

“Surely, there will be others coming in, too.”

“That’s true.”

“How will we get that generator back to Reverend Michael?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll arrange something.” He was eyeing the upper story of the Garrison Building as they passed it and turned down First Street. “Thankfully, I won’t have much cleaning up to do.”

Maya gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I should have asked. Is your apartment damaged? If it is, I’ll help you with it. I promise.”

“It’s fine. Let’s worry about one thing at a time.” He glanced across the street. “Access to the front of the hardware store and the parking lot looks blocked but I can probably find a few good old boys with trucks and winches to get past the clutter.”

He waved to a small group of his employees who were gathered in the street. “Is everybody okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Garrison. We were getting ready to close. No customers at all.”

“That’s good. Try to get to our spare generators, will you? I want the biggest one delivered to Reverend Michael at High Plains Community Church, ASAP. No charge. And grab a half dozen extension cords to go with it. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll try to get a little gas for it, too. Anything else?”

“Yes. See if you can find a volunteer to man what’s left of the store so folks can get whatever they need—at cost—whether they have the money for it or not. Just write everything down and we’ll work out the details later.”

“Gotcha. I can stay. I live so far west of town I’m sure the storm missed my place.”

“Good.” Looking satisfied, Gregory turned back to Maya. “How much farther is it to Tommy’s?”

“Just down there. I can see the house. Praise the Lord! It’s still standing.” She could tell that her boss was having to work to keep hold of the struggling boy’s arm.

“Whoa, kid. Hold your horses. I’ll let you go in just a second.”

“Charlie!” Tommy kept yelling. “Charlie. Charlie, where are you?”

Maya looked up and down the street, hoping against hope that the black-and-white mutt would suddenly appear. Very little was moving other than the refuse that flapped in the trees and lay draped over every bush and signpost, as if naughty teenagers had arrayed it like toilet paper in a prank. Sadly, this was no childish practical joke. This was harsh reality.

Green-painted shutters had been ripped from the quaint Otis home and there were spaces on the sloping roof that were clearly missing patches of asphalt shingles. Other than that, the house looked in pretty good shape, especially compared to some of the others they’d seen so far.

Gregory released the boy and Tommy raced ahead, vaulting a low hedge that bordered the backyard of his foster parents.

Holding Layla close, Maya paused to watch. A dog house lay on its side with a chain tether still attached. The rest of the yard was deserted. Charlie was nowhere to be seen.

Tears came to her eyes as she heard the child start to sob. His loud weeping immediately drew Beth and Brandon from the house and they fell to their knees to embrace him.

At least Tommy was safe, Maya thought, thanks to the quick actions of Gregory Garrison. And this was probably only one of the many happy reunions occurring all over the area.

She’d never thought to pray for an animal before but considering the heartbreaking agony the poor, lonely little boy was in, she couldn’t see a thing wrong with doing so now.

“Father, thank You for saving us,” she began to whisper. “And please help Tommy find his dog.”

At her ear, hugging her neck tightly, she heard her three-year-old add, “Amen.”

Middle-aged, slight portly, Brandon Otis was the first to approach and offer his hand to Greg. “Thanks for bringing him home. We were pretty upset.”

“I can see that,” Greg said, noting a slight tremor in the man’s grip. “No sign of the dog?”

Brandon shook his head. “Nope. None.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice to add aside, “That’s the least of my worries. Beth doesn’t say much but I think her old ticker is acting up again. Wouldn’t be surprised after what we just went through.”

That took Greg aback. “Your wife is ill?”

“The only times it bothers her is when she’s stressed, like now. And having Tommy’s dog here hasn’t helped. We just didn’t have the heart to refuse to let him bring it.”

“How is that a problem?”

The older man huffed in disgust. “We had a fight just about every night over bringing Charlie inside. We always said no, but half the time he ended up sleeping in Tommy’s bed with him anyway. Poor Beth had more laundry from this kid than a dozen of the ones we’d fostered before him.”

“I had just assumed Charlie was your dog.”

“No way. Beth’s allergic. The only reason we gave in was because the authorities swore Tommy would be lost without it.” He gestured. “I even built a dog house with a tie-out chain. See? Not that Charlie spent much time there.”

“Tommy was riding a bike downtown when the storm hit. Charlie was with him then. Afterward, we couldn’t find him and we’d hoped he’d wandered back this way.”

“Nope. Sorry. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.”

Disappointed, Greg left Brandon and stepped over the low hedge into the Otises’ backyard. As he approached, Beth stood, wiped her eyes and went to join her husband, Maya and Layla.

The boy was sitting on the grass with his face in his hands, oblivious to the wet ground, when Greg crouched next to him.

“I’m sorry,” was all Greg said. That was apparently enough.

Tommy looked up. His eyes were red and his face puffy and tear-stained. He paused a moment to stare, then got up and threw his arms around Greg, catching him by surprise and nearly bowling him over.

“Nobody cares,” the boy wailed.

Astounded by the intense reaction, Greg nevertheless recovered enough to embrace the child and try to comfort him. He was in way over his head. He didn’t know how to handle kids, what to say to them or how to help. He just knew that Tommy’s suffering was touching his heart with a depth of feeling he hadn’t known existed.

As soon as the child’s sobbing lessened enough that he could heed spoken assurances, Greg said, “I care. And so does Ms. Logan.”

“Charlie’s my—my only friend,” Tommy stuttered, sniffling. “He’s my best buddy. We go everywhere together.”

“Then I know he’ll come back if he can,” Greg said sympathetically.

The boy’s blue eyes widened. “What if he’s hurt like my mama and daddy were? They never came back.”

“There are going to be lots of people out looking for ways to help each other in the next few days and weeks, son. I’m sure someone will find your dog. And we’ll look especially hard for him, just like we promised.”

“You—you will? Cross your heart?”

Greg made the motion that went with the question as he replied, “Yes. Cross my heart.”

In truth, he felt as if his heart was breaking for this sad, lonely child. Remembering his own youth he could readily identify with Tommy. There had been no one in his young life at the Garrison estate who had understood him except his mother, and when she’d died he’d been so bereft that no words could describe it. Although he’d still had a father, Dan had become even more withdrawn than usual, leaving Greg feeling totally isolated.

In those days, if he hadn’t had some animals to tend, to talk to without censoring his thoughts and words, he’d have been as forlorn as Tommy was now.