Not until she returned home and was undressing did Pandora realize she had lost her silver locket. “The chain must have broken,” she told Ward, near tears.
“Don’t fret, darling. I’ll have another one made for you.”
It was the hot, sultry Thursday evening of September 6 when the Gabriels next saw Jacob Saenger. They had just tucked the twins into bed and were about to go out for a stroll and a breath of air—if such a thing existed—when the front door knocker banged loudly.
“Jacob! This is a surprise,” Pandora heard Ward say. “We thought you’d be spending your first evening at home. Weren’t the movers supposed to finish up today?”
Pandora hurried into the hallway. “Is anything wrong, Jacob?”
“I suppose you might say that,” he answered in a tone edged with sarcasm. “Remember last Saturday at lunch when I told Angelica we were moving and she urged me not to sell the house on 13th Street?”
Ward and Pandora both nodded. “I figured the girl had a good business head on her shoulders after all,” Ward said. “Property prices are going up every day. You could make a bundle on that place by keeping it a few more months.”
“I didn’t know what to think,” Jacob confessed. “But I know now. She’s just thrown me out.”
“Jacob, no!” Pandora cried. “Whatever can she be thinking?”
Jacob slumped down in a chair, his head in his hands. “She’s thinking that she doesn’t want to live with me anymore. She just told me as much. I’m to go back to the old house. She wants the mansion all to herself.”
“But that’s crazy!” Ward blurted out.
Jacob gave him a pained look. “Oh, I sincerely hope not!”
“What did you argue about, if you don’t mind discussing it?” Pandora asked.
“That’s just it! Nothing! Angelica’s been as sweet as can be ever since I brought her back from New Orleans. We’ve had no differences. I thought everything was perfect between us at last. As soon as the movers left this evening, she showed me to the front door and explained very politely but firmly that she had no intentions of sharing her house with ne. She kicked me out!” Jacob let his head sink back down into his hands. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
Jacob left a short time later to go back to the empty house on 13th Street. The Gabriels tried to convince him to stay, but he refused. When he was gone, Pandora went into her husband’s arms, trembling.
“Darling, what’s wrong?” he asked.
Pandora could only shake her head. “I don’t know, but I have this awful feeling.”
That awful feeling manifested itself somtime after midnight in one of Pandora’s nightmares—one of the same horrendous proportions as the dream she had had shortly before her parents were killed in the great hurricane of 1886. She saw herself naked, being whipped by hard rain and thrashed by the raging sea. She screamed and cried for help, but the roar of the wind drowned out her voice. She was all alone, terrified, staring into the very face of death. When she saw three skeletal black hands reach out for her, she woke sobbing.
“Darling, darling, it’s all right,” Ward soothed. “I’m here. It was only a dream.”
Pandora would not be quieted. “This was not just a dream,” she told Ward between sobs. “It was the dream! There’s a terrible storm coming.”
“There, you see, darling!” Ward drew back the drapes at eight the next morning so that the bright sunshine filled their bedroom. “It’s a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky.”
Pandora tried to smile to reassure herself but the nightmare retained its hold on her.
“I told Cass to bring our breakfast up since you had such a bad night,” Ward told her. “You just stay put, darling.”
Moments later, when Cassie placed the breakfast tray and the morning paper before her, Pandora’s worst fears were realized. There was, indeed, a hurricane headed their way. According to the Galveston Daily News, the fierce storm had already ravaged Puerto Rico, the Windward Islands, Cuba, and the western coast of Florida. The U.S. Weather Service report stated that the West Indian cyclone was now gathering renewed strength over the Gulf, headed for the Texas coast.
Pandora’s heart pounded with fear as she silently handed the paper to Ward.
He scanned the report quickly. She saw him frown, but when he turned to her his expression was pleasant again. “We might have a little blow,” he confessed. “But look at that gorgeous morning out there, darling. Surely, we have nothing to worry about. The castle is built solid as a rock and we’re over eight feet above sea level here—the highest point on the whole island.” Pandora’s worried expression never changed. “If you would feel better, I’ll put you and the girls on the afternoon train to Houston.”
“And leave you here alone?” she cried.
Later that morning, Ward went to his office, still sure that his wife was simply over-reacting to a bad dream. But when he passed the Levy Building on Market Street, he began to take her fears more seriously. Whipping high above his head, he spotted the two ominous weather flags—red squares with black centers—flying in tandem. Sometime earlier, Isaac Cline, the weather officer, had raised his hurricane warning over Galveston Island.
Pandora needed no flags to alert her to the coming danger. She was already preparing for the storm. She had the servants filling vats and jugs with rain water from the cisterns. She ordered the furniture from downstairs hauled up the wide mahogany staircase to the floor above. Only the massive, square piano remained in the front parlor, too heavy to be moved from its usual spot. Cassie was dispatched to the Emporium to purchase non-perishable foodstuffs. All day the household on Broadway was a flurry of activity even though the weather continued fine.
Pandora slept little that night. She lay awake, listening for the boom of the surf, the rise of the wind. But the night seemed inordinately still and silent. Ward, undisturbed, slept peacefully beside her.
Near dawn, she heard the first patter of rain against the windowpanes. Slipping out of bed, careful not to wake her husband, she dressed and pulled on her oilskin cloak. Moments later, she hurried out of the house. The stable boy hitched up the big wagon, as Pandora instructed, then she headed immediately for the beach. The light rain was becoming heavier and the wind was on the rise. Long before the beach house came into view, she heard the boom of the surf, like cannon fire out over the Gulf.
Dawn was just breaking as she drove up to the cottage. She’d meant to take care of this task earlier, but there had been too much to do at home.
The tide was higher than normal. The long, rolling swells broke on the beach with an ominous roar, sending a shiver down Pandora’s spine. There wasn’t much time. She would have to work quickly.
Hurrying into the cottage, she immediately began taking paintings down from the walls. Done with that chore, she took a sheet off the bed and gathered up everything else she valued in the cottage—books, shells, rugs, and Ward’s antique coins. She was about to begin hauling the things out to the wagon when a knock came at the door. She answered it to find the slim, athletically built weather officer, Issac Cline, on her front porch.
“Morning, Mrs. Gabriel.”
“Mr. Cline.” She nodded, but neither smiled nor invited him in. There wasn’t time for social amenities.
“I see you’re packing things up. Good idea! I’m making the rounds now, warning everyone in the houses along the beach to take shelter on higher ground.”
“It’s going to be bad, isn’t it?” Pandora knew the answer to her question already.
“’Fraid so,” he answered. “The barometer’s dropping fast. Looks like we’re in for a major overflow. There’s water standing in the yards near the beach even now, and the storm’s still out there a good piece. Let me help you with these things, ma’am. You need to get on home.”
Pandora was grateful for Cline’s assistance in loading the wagon. Already the wind was whipping the surf to flying foam that coated the telephon
e and power lines along the beach road. The ominious, whining song of the wet wires filled the air, making Pandora’s skin crawl. Three bathhouses down the beach were swaying dangerously on their tall stilts. Any moment now, they would go crashing into the surf. Soon her own beloved cottage would follow.
Issac Cline waved Pandora off and wished her luck. At that moment, Pandora wondered if she would ever see the man again. The brickdust hue of the sky, the rising wind and surf, and her warning dream all promised a major disaster. Many would die before this storm was over.
Even as she headed for home and safety, the streets were clogged with sightseers off to the beach. Some were in buggies, some on foot, and many others crammed themselves into the electric trolly that ran down from Broadway. They all seemed in a holiday mood in spite of the high winds and driving rain.
“Hey, look at the size of those waves!” one young boy yelled to his friend. “Let’s go swimmin’!”
“Go home to your mothers!” Pandora shouted to the pair of youngsters, alone together in the crowd. “It isn’t safe at the beach.”
They only laughed and waved to her, continuing on their early morning adventure.
Ward was coming down the front steps when Pandora drove up to the castle. “Where have you been?” he demanded. “I was worried sick!”
“To the cottage one last time,” she answered sadly. “By tomorrow morning, it will be gone. I saved a few things. Mr. Cline is making rounds, telling people to evacuate the low-lying areas.”
Ward’s face turned solemn at his wife’s words. “That bad, is it?”
Pandora nodded. “And bound to get much worse.” She hugged him, clinging desperately. “Oh, Ward, I’m so frightened! Please don’t leave me until it’s over!”
“I won’t, darling. I promise,” he said gently. “Come inside now. You’re soaking wet. Why didn’t you wake me to go with you and help?”
Jacob Saenger received a frantic call at his office shortly before noon that Saturday. He was ordered to report to the hospital immediately. Cancelling the rest of his appointments, he headed directly to St. Mary’s Infirmary. He’d been so busy most of the morning that he hadn’t realized how quickly the weather had deteriorated. The light rain from earlier in the day was now coming down in torrents, and the wind had risen to a howling gale. There was no doubt now that a major storm was blowing in. The hospital would be inundated with injured. Already, he’d been told by his colleague on the phone, people were coming in with broken bones, gashes, and bruises inflicted by flying debris.
Even now, as he made his way on foot through the wind and rain, water was filling the streets. The wooden blocks of the sidewalk had floated loose and bobbed about his boots like so many oversized corks. He looked up at the wildly swaying palm trees just in time to save himself, dodging quickly when he spied a wind-driven slate shingle coming straight for his head.
He’d tried to ring up Angelica before he left the office. The telephones were still working, but the lines were jammed with frantic callers. He would have to try again from the hospital. He only hoped it wouldn’t be too late by then. At the rate the wind was rising, the lines couldn’t stay up much longer.
The hospital was a madhouse—everyone running this way and that. Many people had come in from low-lying sections of town seeking shelter. They got in the way of the doctors who were trying to care for the injured. The whole place was chaotic.
Before setting to work, Jacob hurried into one of the offices to use the telephone. Finally, the operator was able to ring through to Angelica’s number.
“Thank God,” he breathed into the receiver.
A moment later, he heard the operator’s voice again. “I’m sorry, sir, but that telephone seems to be off the hook. It’s not ringing.”
Jacob gave an exasperated sigh. “Operator, try another number for me.”
Ward hurried to the jangling telephone in the hallway. “Yes, who is it?” he demanded.
“Ward, it’s Jacob. Thank goodness you’re at home. I have to ask you a great favor. Angelica’s all alone. I’m at the hospital. The injured are already pouring in and we’re going to haye to evacuate the old folks’ home near the beach and bring them here somehow. I can’t leave. Can you make it down to Angelica’s house?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Will you go down there and bring her back to the castle? She’ll be terrified all by herself.”
“I’m on my way, Jacob. Don’t worry. I’ll have her back here in no time. How bad is it there?”
A shattering of glass made Jacob duck quickly. “The windows are all being smashed. Those damn slate roof tiles are flying through the air like shrapnel fired from a cannon. Be careful when you go out, Ward. A person could get decapitated.”
“I’ll keep my head low, don’t worry!”
Pandora had been standing near her husband as he talked to Jacob. When he hung up, she cried, “Ward, you’re not going to leave?”
“Just for a few minutes, darling. Angelica’s all alone down the street. Jacob asked me to bring her here.” Already, he was pulling on his foul weather gear. “I’ll be back before you know it, Pan.”
Before she could protest further, Ward was out the door. The wind slammed it shut behind him. Pandora sank down in a chair, her head in her hands. She mustn’t worry, she told herself. He would be back. The old Sherwood mansion was only a few doors down the street. Nothing could happen to him in that short distance.
“Oh, please, God, bring him home safely,” she whispered in a deceptively calm voice.
A few doors down might have been a few miles in the driving wind and rain and the quickly rising water. The wind from the north was driving the bay waters into the city streets. Already, Broadway was a raging river. Ward could barely see his hand before his face in the torrents of rain. The black sky boiled with rage, making the early afternoon almost as dark as midnight. The air was filled with debris—branches, roof tiles, bits of wood from houses that had already been demolished. Inch by inch, gripping the iron railings of fences along the street, Ward made his way slowly toward the Sherwood mansion. For every step he took, the wind blew him back two paces.
By the time he got there, the bay had met with the Gulf. Water was waist-deep in the yard, flooding the Sherwood basement and washing under the front door. A furious gust of wind hurled him into the door and it flew open. He fell to the floor and stared up, unable to believe the bizarre scene before his eyes.
“You came. I knew you would.” Angelica, dressed in her finest purple satin gown—the one trimmed in silver lace to match the locket around her neck—swayed toward Ward to help him up.
“Angelica, we’ve got to get out of here. The place is flooding. The castle’s on higher ground. You’ll be safe there.”
She smiled, then trilled a seductive laugh. “Darling, we can’t be alone there and I have everything ready here. See?”
Taking Ward’s arm, Angelica led him to the dining room. The table, covered with a spotless damask cloth, was set for two with gleaming silver and the sparkle of crystal. Candles glowed warmly. Angelica reached to the wine cooler and filled a champagne flute, handing it to Ward.
“We’ll drink a toast and then we’ll eat. And afterward, darling…” She went up on tiptoe to kiss his lips firmly.
Ward stood perfectly still, stunned, watching the water on the dining room floor climb up his boots.
“Stop it, Angelica! This is pure foolishness! You don’t know what it’s like out there. If we wait, we won’t be able to get back to the castle at all.”
Just then, Ward heard the giant oak in the yard crash against the side of the house; Angelica didn’t seem to notice.
Slipping her arms around Ward’s waist and leaning her head against his chest, she murmured, “Then, by all means, let’s wait, love! We can forget about dinner, if you like. After all, we’ve both been dreaming a long, long time of this night. Come, we’ll go upstairs.”
Ward st
ared down at the woman clutching him. Her eyes were as glittery as if she were running a fever. The color in her cheeks was high. Her pretty mouth opened and she ran her tongue suggestively over her lips.
Suddenly, Ward scooped her up into his arms. She snuggled close, nibbling at his neck, and whispered, “That’s more like it, darling. Let’s go upstairs.”
When Ward headed for the front door instead of the bedroom, Angelica fought him for all she was worth—screaming, hitting, biting. If she continued struggling against him like this, he knew they would both drown on the way home. Quickly, never letting go of her, Ward snatched loose a heavy curtain rope and tied it firmly about Angelica’s waist. Moments later, amidst Angelica’s screams and curses, they entered the storm.
Ward felt as if he’d stepped into a black, watery hell. Above the howl of the wind and the roar of the water, he could hear the screams of the dying off in the distance. Suddenly, to his horror, he realized that all of Galveston might be gone by the time the sun rose again.
Pandora! I’ve got to get home to Pandora, he kept telling himself as he groped his way through the rising flood waters.
Angelica stopped fighting so hard once she was faced with the killer hurricane as her major opponent. The going was rough. Ward tried to hold onto Angelica, but several times the swirling water swept her out of his arms. He used the curtain rope to tug her back.
Nothing looked real or familiar. Total darkness closed in. Broadway was now awash with all manner of debris—an angry river, uprooting trees, felling houses, smashing lives. He could no longer find the railings he had followed on his way to rescue Angelica. All he could do was cling to his charge and hope that he was going the right way. The swift current whirled them this way and that. Soon he lost all sense of direction.
Angelica let out an hysterical scream. “Ward, get him off me!”
Ward pulled her close and felt another man’s hand clutching desperately at her arm. He tried to help the poor fellow, pulling as hard as he could to bring the victim’s head above the surface of the foul water. When he finally managed, his blood turned suddenly cold. In a flash of lightning, he found himself staring into the glazed eyes of a dead man. Ward released the body and pushed on, not knowing where he was headed. All they could do now was hang on and hope that they could ride out the storm.
Forever, For Love Page 36