by Curry, Edna
He pushed the troubling thoughts away, and threw his tractor in gear. He had to get busy. Bobby was waiting to go home. Home. Well, to their campsite in the basement. At least it was dry and he’d gotten a kerosene heater to keep them warm. Better than some people had now.
Pushing the last branches to the side of the road, he shut off the tractor and consulted with a trio of men who’d been combing the houses. “Everyone accounted for?”
“As far as we can tell. We’ll take another head count at the Red Cross shelter in Sparville.”
“Okay,” Cal said. “Let’s get out then and let the inspectors do their job.”
Making her way back to her little red Chevy, Tami gave the guard a smile and walked past him.
The little boy in the pick-up was still there, sitting up now, watching her approach with sad brown eyes. His face was still tear-streaked and dirty and he looked forlorn.
Her heart tightened at the sight of him. Angrily, she swung back to the young guard, asking, “Is he your son?”
“No, ma’am. I ain’t married. I’m just keeping an eye on him.”
“Well, who has left him here for hours, then?”
“One of the guys working in there.” He nodded toward the town.
“That’s awful!” Tami sputtered. “To leave him here in a truck for hours. What kind of father is he, anyway?”
The guardsman shrugged. “Lots of things are not getting done the usual way right now, ma’am. I reckon he didn’t have no one else to watch him. I offered, ‘cause he knows how to operate a bucket tractor and I don’t.”
“What’s the problem?” Cal asked behind them.
Tami whirled at the sound of his voice, her heart speeding up.
“The lady’s upset that your boy’s been alone in the truck for a while.”
“Oh, the lady is, is she? Maybe she offered to baby-sit him instead?”
“He’s your boy?” Tami remembered she hadn’t actually met Bobby at Sally’s house. He’d always been upstairs. And when Cal had carried him to the car, he’d been asleep, wrapped in a blanket. But she should have recognized those brown eyes so much like Cal’s. And that battered pickup. She wasn't thinking clearly today.
“Yes. Bobby’s my son. How’re you doing, pal? Getting hungry?”
Bobby nodded, a wide smile welcoming his father. “Did you find my teddy bear, Daddy?”
Cal’s face clouded. “No, son. Sorry.”
Tami bit her lip, trying to keep her temper under control. Cal’s son. If things had worked out differently between them, she could have been the mother of his son. She’d have the right to take care of him. But the past was done and gone and wishing wouldn’t change anything.
“Couldn’t you have found someone to take care of him at home? Surely that would be better than waiting for you in the pickup,” she said in as calm a voice as she could manage.
“Not that it’s any of your business,” Cal sent her an angry stare, “but no, I couldn’t. They all seem to be a little busy right now. And we no longer have a home to leave him in, even if I did have someone to watch him.”
“Oh, no!” she said contritely, her hand flying to her mouth. Shame spread through her. She hadn’t even asked if he and his family were okay. She’d assumed if he was there working, they were. How thoughtless of her! “You lost your house? Was anyone hurt?”
The angry line of his jaw softened as he saw her dismay. “No, Bobby and I made it to the basement in time. We only lost property. We can replace that.”
“I’m sorry. Was anyone we know hurt?”
He nodded. “Sam was in his barn when the storm hit and the barn collapsed on him.”
“Oh, no!" Tami exclaimed, her hand flying to cover her mouth. "Were Sally or their girls hurt?”
Cal shook his head. “They were in the house and had gone to the basement.”
“Thank goodness for that. And Sam?”
“Sam’s in the hospital, pretty broken up. They’re not sure if he’ll make it yet, because they’re having trouble locating enough of the right type of blood for transfusions. I called a while ago and they moved him to Rochester by helicopter,” he added reluctantly.
“Oh, no!” Tami repeated, remembering that moving someone to Rochester was the classic signal for critical in this area of small town general practitioners. She’d have to call the hospital there to check on his condition for her story. Poor Sally! How awful she must be feeling.
“Sam’s house is okay, but the rest of their buildings are all gone. His cows all survived, except three. Speaking of cows, I’d better get out there to feed and water them.”
“But how will you milk them? Is the power restored there already?”
“No. Luckily, Sam has a generator for emergencies. Most farmers do, nowadays. I and the neighbors will take turns taking care of them. We help each other out here, you remember.”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I remember.” Neighbors had always pitched in to do the farm work to help anyone who’d been hurt or sick. It was standard procedure here and one of the warm, wonderful things about a small town that she missed in the big city.
“Sam’s well house was concrete and brick, so that was spared,” Cal continued. “He was luckier than most in that respect. Thanks for watching Bobby, Tim.” Cal strode around his pickup and got in. Tipping his hat to her politely, he drove off. Tami stared after him. He’s acting so cold, you’d think we were mere acquaintances instead of former sweethearts. Is that all he wants me to be now?
As he turned around, she noticed the tailgate of his truck was badly bent and wired closed.
Tim saw her looking at it and volunteered, “Cal said a tree fell on it.”
“I see.” She got in her car, decided to go home instead of to a motel for the night and began the long drive back to Minneapolis.
Arriving at her office, she turned in her film and assured Mr. Edwards she would e-mail in her stories and pictures in the coming days. Then she went back to her apartment.
There, she wrote her feature story and e-mailed it into the office. She gratefully soaked in a hot tub until the water grew cold, then bandaged her sore ankle, plugged in her laptop and cell phone to recharge and fell into bed for a few hours’ sleep.
Early the next morning she packed more suitable clothes and sturdy walking shoes. Stopping at a discount store, she bought work gloves and a cooler which she filled with bottled water and soda.
She would wear jeans, a sweat shirt and sensible shoes today. She wasn’t going to give Cal another chance to laugh at her city clothes. If she ran into him again. More likely, he’d be busy with Sam’s cows. And his son. Her throat tightened as she thought of the sad look on Bobby’s face. She hoped Cal had found a babysitter for him. Where had they slept last night? Surely he had relatives still living in the area.
Turning onto the detour, she tried to remember. When they’d been dating, he’d still lived at home. But she remembered his father had died shortly after hers. She hadn’t returned for the funeral, because his father had never approved of her. She felt it would be hypocritical to pretend she was sorry he was gone. She should have gone for Cal’s sake, and would have, if she’d thought for a minute she’d be welcomed.
She called the hospital and was told there was no change in Sam’s condition. Not encouraging. She felt sick with worry, thinking of Sally, who was probably sitting with him, praying for his recovery.
It was nearly noon when she arrived back at Conley. This time the road was clogged with vehicles, mostly trucks and tractors. Volunteer help had arrived in force. She parked a long way back and walked, looking for Cal’s pickup and Bobby. Cal’s pickup was there, but she was pleased to see it was empty today. Cal must have found a sitter.
A different National Guardsman was on duty at the entrance to town, but looked harried and waved her on through when she flashed her press pass.
A cheer rose from the people working ahead of her. She glanced behind her and saw a large flatbed carrying bright o
range portable toilets roll in. The guard waved it on. She stepped aside to let it rumble past, snapping a picture and smiling at the idea of such a mundane thing as toilets receiving a cheer. Then she wandered into town.
Many more people were working today, and they all seemed less shocked and more energetic. Perhaps the return of sunshine had helped their mood as well, although with the temperature only in the fifties, the air was still chilly. She was thankful for her warm sweatshirt and jeans.
Trucks and tractors with bucket loaders were working on every street. She found herself looking carefully at the driver of each one, looking for a certain tall, slim man. She was only looking for him to avoid him, she assured herself. Not because she wanted to see him again. He was only part of her past, not her present or future. Was it only a few days ago she and LuAnn had joked about her having a hot affair with him and overdosing on him like chocolate? Ha! Fat chance. She’d have to thaw him out, first.
A bulldozer worked on the next street, pushing trees to the side of the street. Chainsaws roared where many men were cutting the fallen trees into manageable pieces to fit into trucks.
Everywhere people were busy picking up broken branches and other debris and dropping it in piles for the tractors to load onto trucks. Rain-soaked clothing, papers and books were strewn across the front lawn of a damaged house in front of her. A child’s plastic block and a picture book lay half-buried by a section of a screened porch.
Tami snapped pictures of them, and of the men on the roof above it, who were replacing the missing shingles with a temporary roof of plastic sheeting. This home looked salvageable. She hoped the children were safely staying with relatives and could soon return, when heat, power and water were available again.
The northwest corner of town had gotten little damage. Although the people living there had no heat or power, they were allowed to return. Tami was amazed to see the contrast between the streets so close together, one side smashed, the other virtually untouched.
In the undamaged north side of town picnic tables had been set up on the lawn of the Catholic Church. A group of ladies busily passed out sandwiches and hot coffee from large thermoses.
“Oh, hot coffee!” Tami exclaimed, gratefully taking a cup from the volunteer. “How did you manage that?”
“It’s only a ten minute drive to Mountain Lake. They have power, there,” the woman said, looking at Tami strangely.
“Of course,” Tami answered, feeling stupid.
Another woman set a large electric roaster full of scalloped potatoes and ham on the table in front of them. There was nowhere to plug it in, but it was still hot from wherever she’d brought it and it sent up a tantalizingly delicious aroma. Workmen in denim jackets and caps lined up behind Tami and she moved aside. She’d eat later, if it looked like there would be plenty. Otherwise she could eat in town.
When there was a break in the line, Tami moved closer to question one of the friendlier ladies. She was short and buxom. A cap covered her short brown curls. She was sympathizing with a woman over her losses as she filled her plate.
“I’m Tami Johanson. Do you live here?” she asked cautiously. The woman looked vaguely familiar but Tami couldn’t place her.
“Hi Tami, I’m Iris, Linda Carnell’s sister." The woman smiled, her eyes watchful for more people to serve.
“Oh, of course, I remember you now. Are Linda and her little ones okay? I tried calling, but haven’t been able to get through.”
“Yes, they weren’t in the storm’s path. I live right over there,” she pointed down the street toward the undamaged section of town.
“Then you had no damage?”
“No,” Iris said, shaking her head. She paused and swallowed, looking at Tami. “I feel so guilty.”
“Guilty?”
Her soft brown eyes filled with tears. “Yes. For being spared. For having a bed to sleep in as usual. Everybody has lost so much, and my house didn’t get scratched. My lawn furniture was outside but didn’t even blow away.”
Another man popped into line and Iris filled a plate and handed it to him. He was in his sixties, tall and thin. “Well, being spared must mean God thinks we live right, eh?” he said jovially. “I live right across from the church on the south side. It got totaled, but my house and my new Cadillac only got a few scratches.”
Iris didn’t answer. The man moved off and she stared after him, intense dislike in her expression. “He’s a total ass,” she said bitterly. “God may have spared him, but I doubt it was because he ‘lived right.’ No one in town lives more ‘wrongly’ than he does.”
“Sometimes there’s no figuring out why things happen,” Tami agreed.
She had no doubt the woman spoke the truth. Everyone in rural small towns knew everyone else’s business and usually the judgments passed were fairly accurate. She cringed, wondering what judgment they would pass on her if they knew the truth about the lies she and her mother had told about their financial circumstances. Would they rate the same contempt for pretending to be better off than they had been?
Tami’s cell phone rang, and she pulled it from her purse, saying, “The tower must be repaired!”
It was Mr. Edwards with new instructions on what he wanted from her for the morning edition.
Iris stared at Tami as she talked, then turned to serve another group of workers. At the next break in the serving line, she came over to where Tami was sitting on the grass, sipping her coffee.
“Would you mind if I used your phone to make a quick call?” she asked. “I’ll be happy to pay the cost, and it’ll save me driving twenty miles.”
“Of course I don’t mind,” Tami said, passing the phone to her. “Don’t worry about the charge.”
“Mom has my kids in Mountain Lake, and the baby has a cold. If she’s still running a fever, I should take her to the doctor,” she explained.
Iris talked a few minutes and handed the phone back. “Thanks so much. That’s a relief. She’s napping and her fever’s down. So I can stay here.”
“That’s good.”
“Don’t you want some food? And come sit over here at the table. You’ll catch a cold sitting there on the wet ground. It’s only the first of April, you know. The ground hasn’t warmed up yet.”
Tami moved to the table, tucked the phone back into her purse and took the plate the woman brought her.
The casserole was delicious and she was enjoying it when Cal sat down across from her with a full plate. “Morning. I see you’re back.”
She jumped at the sound of his voice, even though she’d been watching for him. “Hi,” she said, trying to ignore the way her pulse sped up. Her gaze wandered hungrily over his body, noting the way his broad shoulders filled out his blue denim jacket. His dark hair was mussed, as though he’d been running frustrated fingers through it.
“I almost didn’t recognize you in everyday clothes,” he said with a smile.
No doubt that meant he didn’t approve. Well, she’d dressed for comfort, not to please him. Her office clothes hadn’t pleased him yesterday either, had they? But she could understand his tension in the crisis yesterday. At least he was smiling today. She tried to change the subject. “Where’s Bobby today? At your Aunt Mary’s house?”
He shook his head. “Mary’s working. All the nurses whose homes didn’t get hit by the tornado are working extra so the ones who were hit can take time off.”
“Oh.”
“Your Aunt Cora has Bobby today, along with a half dozen others.”
“Aunt Cora? Baby-sitting?” Of course, Aunt Cora could be pretty down to earth at times, but taking care of kids? That was a far cry from her usual home decorating business.
“Amazing what people will do in an emergency, isn’t it? Though I’d be more amazed if you or your mother had offered.”
Tami cringed at the bitter sarcasm in his voice. Well, maybe she deserved that. Her mother had often called Cal ‘just a farm boy’ and had made no secret of the fact she’d disapproved of their
romance. She looked away, realizing what snobs they’d been.
She knew Louise Johanson had been called ‘fussy’ and ‘overly neat’ and Tami had tried to follow her mother’s rules. Neatness seemed unimportant today in the middle of this mess. Everyone here wore work clothes, caps and gloves, and gooey mud was the order of the day.
Iris came over and refilled their coffee cups. “Could we borrow your phone again? Bertha needs to see why more sandwiches haven’t arrived.”
“Sure.” Tami pulled it out of her oversized purse and handed it over, ignoring Cal’s surprised look.
“You have a cell phone?” he exclaimed.
“Yes. Do you need it?”
“Yes. Thanks! We had one in the city office and another in the fire-hall. But both buildings were flattened and all our emergency stuff is under the debris somewhere. We need some more generators out here.” He took the phone when Iris returned it and began punching numbers.
Another man wearing a canvas tool-belt said, “Can I use it next? If I can phone for more plastic tarps instead of having to drive to Mankato for them, we can get more roofs covered before dark. My son works at the lumberyard, and he can bring it out here for me.”
“Sure thing,” Tami agreed, making a mental note to tell her boss about the extra charges. She smiled in acknowledgment of Cal’s nod of thanks as he passed the phone on.
“The bank’s open again!” A chubby man whose cap proclaimed his name was Joe announced, sitting down with a full plate. “We got a gas generator hooked up for them, so they have power for lights ’n stuff.”
“Great!” Cal said. “I was running out of cash. Unexpected expenses, you know,” he added, casting Tami an embarrassed look. “How’s your ankle?”
“It’s fine,” Tami said. An unreasoning pleasure spread over her at his concern. With all he had to think about as mayor of Conley, he’d remembered her small injury.