The Plan

by Kim Pritekel

  “You’ve been in the store before?” Eleanor asked, grateful for a semblance of a subject to talk about. She knew she would have seen her there before. “And I’m…um…I’m cleaning up a mess I made. I was looking for those.” She indicated the haphazard stack of ray guns. “And accidentally spilled those,” she added, waving her hand around to bring attention to the messy bean piles.

  “Oops,” Lysette said, walking toward her, a saucy look on her face as she reached for the broom. “I’ll sweep this up while you do whatever you were going to do with the ray guns.”

  “Are you sure?” Eleanor barely had the words out of her mouth when the broom was snatched from her hands. Deciding Lysette was, Eleanor turned and headed to the toys. Sitting on a shelf was a roll of blank price tags, so she grabbed it and peeled them off, sticking them to the boxes of the toy guns before scribbling the price on them with heavy pencil marks.

  “I am,” Lysette responded, the wispy sound of the broom whispering across the floor underlining her words. “I’m sure you’re wondering why I just showed up, huh?”

  Eleanor smiled as she continued with her pricing. “Yes,” she answered honestly.

  “Well,” Lysette drawled, the sweeping pausing for a moment followed by the sound of a crate being moved aside. “I was terribly disappointed when you couldn’t join us for lunch yesterday after the pictures.”

  Though Eleanor knew this from overhearing her talking to her father—regardless of the puffed-up version that was told to him—she played coy. She shrugged, unable to make herself turn to look at the beautiful girl sweeping mere feet from her. She felt ashamed. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I guess I just have to deal with responsibilities.” She cleared her throat softly and spared a glance over her shoulder.

  She stopped, her mouth falling open when she saw boxes, crates, and bags had been moved and neatly stacked to clear space under the table, the wood plank below swept clean of runaway beans, dust, or scraps of paper that slipped behind.

  Lysette stopped working and looked up at her, not a single hair out of place. “What?” she asked, a twinkle in her eyes. “Don’t think us rich girls know how to work, too?” She reached out and quickly squeezed Eleanor’s shoulder. “Your preconceived notion is forgiven.”

  Eleanor chuckled. “Didn’t know I had one, but thank you,” she retorted, returning to her task.

  “Do you get a break of any sort?” Lysette asked conversationally.

  “Essentially. My father lets me sit down and get a cold drink for ten minutes or so.”

  “Well,” Lysette said, one hand holding the broom and the other on her hip as she met Eleanor’s curious gaze. “Why don’t I finish up here, then run down to the soda shop and grab us both a cold drink and bring it back? That way, you can finish what you’re doing there,” she added, indicating the stack of ray guns. That mischievous grin that Eleanor was beginning to recognize as an expression of a young woman who knew she’d get her way appeared. “That way, maybe your father will give you an extra couple minutes.”

  Twenty minutes later, the teens sat side by side on the stoop of the backdoor of the store, an ice cold Coca-Cola in hand. Eleanor’s eyes slid closed as the sweet, carbonated liquid slid down her throat. She heard a giggle next to her and glanced over at her companion as she lowered the bottle from her lips, using the back of her hand to wipe away a little dribble that her tongue couldn’t reach.

  “Good stuff, huh?” Lysette said with a knowing smile.

  Eleanor nodded. “Absolutely.”

  “Best dime I’ve spent all day,” Lysette said, tapping her bottle against Eleanor’s before taking a sip.

  “So,” Eleanor said, eyebrows drawing as she formulated the words for exactly what she wanted to know. “Earlier, you mentioned you’d never been upstairs before,” she began, meeting Lysette’s open gaze. “When have you been at the store? Customers aren’t allowed upstairs.”

  “No, I don’t imagine they are,” Lysette hedged. “However, the daughter of the owner of the building is.”

  Eleanor blinked a few times before looking away, watching a stray dog rummage through some boxes left on the ground next to the trashcans before scurrying away. “So is that how you’d met my father before?” she asked, realizing too late that she’d just admitted she’d overheard their interaction.

  Lysette smirked as she took another sip but replied simply with, “Yup.” She lowered her bottle and let out a small burp from the carbonation that made Eleanor gasp, then giggle. “Do you ever get a Coca-Cola at the picture show?” Lysette asked, raising her bottle to emphasize her question.

  Eleanor stared down at her hands, which were wrapped around the small glass bottle that rested in her lap. She considered fibbing but decided against it. She cleared her throat and shrugged. “I’ve never been to the picture show.”

  Lysette’s eyes widened. “What?”

  Eleanor let out a heavy breath, regretting she’d said anything. “It’s frivolous and sinful,” she said, repeating what she’d heard about so many things that she wanted to experience.

  Lysette said nothing, simply gave her that same knowing smile and playfully nudged her shoulder with her own. “It’s a hot one,” she said softly at length. “Muggy too.”

  “Yeah,” Eleanor agreed, looking up into the blue, cloudless sky. “Wish it would rain.”

  ****

  August 3, early morning

  Eleanor started, her body sharply moving away from something as she rose into consciousness. Her eyes opened and blinked several times. She expected to smell tobacco and looked for the source standing in his usual place when her body jerked again. A massive boom rent the world around her as it was lit with a blinding streak of lightning.

  Sitting up in bed, she looked around as her bedroom was alight again followed by a deafening boom that seemed to unlock the heavens as rain poured down in a torrential deluge.

  Pushing the covers aside, she swung her legs over the edge of the small bed and got to her feet, stepping over to the window. As she looked out into the night, the wind and rain pounded at the house, making her stumble backward as the front of her nightgown was instantly wet, and the long, loose strands of her dark hair hung in front of her face in tangled, damp tendrils.

  She grabbed the window to pull it down, but it wouldn’t budge. Gritting her teeth, she used as much of her body weight as she could while being lashed by the angry storm, the heavy curtains flapping around her head and slapping the wall.

  Gasping, she looked up when she felt like someone had just poured ice cold water on her only to see water coming in from the corner in her bedroom. During a small lapse in the growing howling winds, she heard an unsettling creak.

  “Father!”

  “Go help your mother downstairs!” Ed barked as he ran into the room, long bangs hanging in his face and his hastily buttoned shirt—a couple buttons tucked through the wrong holes—saturated. His suspenders, which were still attached to the trousers he had on and had worn the day before, hung limply.

  Without asking any questions, Eleanor hurried past him and down the stairs, her bare feet nearly slipping on the trail of water he’d left in his wake. She found her mother in the kitchen pulling out every pot and bucket she had to catch the onslaught of water that was coming in.

  “Eleanor,” Emma hollered out over the storm, “go grab the washtub. Hurry!”

  Eleanor took off like a shot to the washroom, nearly taking a header on some freestanding water as it slowly seeped in from underneath the front door.

  “My god,” she murmured, glancing quickly at it before continuing on her mission.

  The washroom was a small room that held the galvanized metal washtub. It was where they bathed, using the indoor water pump that her father had installed as an anniversary gift for her mother before Eleanor was born. The tub now was upended against the wall after the wash had been finished the day before.

  With a grunt, Eleanor maneuvered the heavy tub to a position where she could dra
g it as quickly as she could to her mother. Panic struck her as she felt herself slipping and, with a loud cry, she went down. Somehow, she managed to roll away in time before the forty-pound tub fell right where her legs were with a deafening clang. She figured it would have broken her legs or shattered her ankles.

  Heart racing and nightgown completely saturated, she gathered herself and began to get to her feet when the bathroom sounded like it exploded as another clap of thunder rocked the earth. Blinding lightning again ripped the night apart, as well as the tree that stood at the back of the house. Eleanor cried out again in fear and shock as half the sizzled tree crashed through the window, filling half the small space.

  She gasped in surprise when she was grasped from behind, hands gripping her under her arms. Turning as she was almost dragged to her feet, she saw her mother, eyes wild.

  “Let’s go!” Emma yelled above the storm. “The storm shelter has been flooded, we’re going to the store!”

  Eleanor nodded in understanding, then followed her mother toward the front door, her father pulling around in the truck, which splashed to a stop in a wave. She gave the motorcar a dubious look before running out into the storm, trying to block her face from the punishing rain, which came from above but also bounced off the drought-hardened earth below.

  The two women somehow managed to squeeze into the cab, her mother mostly sitting in her lap as Ed got the truck moving. He wrestled with the steering wheel and the gearshift as he tried to avoid the worst of the gathering puddles. Eleanor held on to her mother, her eyes wide as she brought up a hand to push wet, muddy strands of hair out of her face.

  “God has spoken,” Emma said softly. “Forgive me for my sin.”

  Eleanor glanced at her mother’s profile, surprised at the soft words, which she suspected were meant only for Emma’s soul.

  The truck took on too much water and stalled out just outside of town, so they abandoned it and forged through the storm, which continued to rage. Eleanor was relieved to see all the windows were intact as they sloshed through the mud and gathering water in the street to the storefront.

  “Eleanor!” Ed yelled over the wind, grabbing her arm to turn her toward him. He stuck the key into her palm. “Unlock the door! I’m gonna go ’round back!”

  Nodding her understanding, she reached out and grabbed her mother’s hand and yanked her along as she fought the storm the last handful of yards and struggled to insert the key into the lock. Victorious, she pushed open the door and nearly shoved her mother inside before following, both women working together to get the door closed again.

  “Oh, my goodness!” Eleanor exclaimed, leaning back against it, her hand going to her chest as she tried to catch her breath.

  “Not too bad in here,” Emma said, walking around the main level of the store. “No water. Luckily, this part of town is a bit higher up than the farm.”

  “Do you think we lost the house, Mama?” Eleanor asked, her voice quiet and somber as she pushed away from the door.

  “I don’t know, honey. I just don’t know.” Emma put her hands on her hips and looked around. “Your father will be glad everything seems to be okay here. Let’s gather some blankets to use tonight.”

  “No,” Ed said, his deep voice resonating in the store. “Not wasting money for items to be sold.” He walked over to Eleanor and held out his hand, the key placed in his palm. Without another word, he locked the store door and headed upstairs, the two women following.

  Chapter Five

  Eleanor raised her head from where she shivered on the floor curled up beneath the table next to bags of animal feed. She heard the front door of the store being unlocked and pushed open, though she was surprised there was no sound of punishing wind and rain entering with whomever was shutting the door, their wet, booted feet squeaking on the tile floor.

  Confused, she looked around, nearly banging her head on the underside of the table as she went to sit up. It was only her back screaming at her that stopped her rise. Resting on her elbows, she looked around. It was still dark out, and the storm seemed to have receded to a mere mewl from the lion’s roar earlier. She had no idea what time it was, but as tired as she felt and the fact that her hair and clothing were still quite damp, she assumed they hadn’t been sleeping long.

  Her focus turned to the stairs when she heard the squeaky footsteps ascending. The halo of light from a flashlight arrived before the silhouette holding it. Squinting at the sudden burst of light, Eleanor raised her hand to shield her eyes.

  “Oh, sorry about that, young miss,” a man said as the beam was lowered and partially shielded by a hand. The substantially dimmed light cast eerie shadows on the storage room around them and illuminated the handsome face of a man who looked around at the family of three, his gaze landing on Eleanor before it moved to Ed and Emma, who had found their own small space to attempt to sleep. “Lose your house, did you?” he asked Ed.

  Ed was slowly sitting up, a hand coming up to push his hair from his face. “Roof went bad,” he said, wincing as his neck popped. “First floor took on some water, too. Can’t say I understand it. Bad storm but…”

  The man walked in farther, his trouser legs covered in water with mud spots halfway up his calves. “The Castlewood Dam breached,” he explained, reaching a hand down to help Emma to her feet as Ed picked himself up off the floor. After Emma was standing and steady, the man leaned down, extending his hand to Eleanor.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, crawling out from beneath the table with his help.

  “What’s got you out in this mess?” Ed asked, standing tall, hands on hips.

  Eleanor looked from one man to the other. She’d never seen this new man before, though it was obvious her father had. There seemed to be tension between the two, particularly from her father. The other man—taller, larger, and stronger-looking—seemed more relaxed, even a small smile on his face. She glanced at her mother, noting that she was looking down at her feet.

  “Well, with the dam going, Denver’s got a few feet of water and rising. Came out here to check on Adalyn and the kids.” He indicated the building around them. “Wanted to make sure everything here was okay, too.” He looked at the three who had moved to stand in a small group at the center of the crammed room. “Listen, we’ve got room at the house. Why don’t the three of you come on over and get a bath and a good night’s sleep, hmm? We can fill your bellies with a good breakfast later.”

  “We’re fine, sir,” Ed said, taking a slight step forward. Eleanor was surprised to see her mother’s hand reach up and grab his biceps. It didn’t seem to be a move of support but rather one of warning. “I take care of my own.”

  The man, still unidentified to Eleanor, raised a hand and ran it through his short-cropped hair. “No doubt, Ed. No doubt at all. Well, listen, not sure what kind of shape your house is in or what it’ll take to get it livable, but two stores down, I’ve got a little apartment you could use.” He eyed Eleanor and Emma. “Only sleeps one comfortable, though. But it’s got running water and a cook stove.”

  “We’ll take it, Davis,” Emma said, absolutely shocking her daughter even as she ignored a death glare from her husband. “But please allow Eleanor to take you up on your kind offer.” She reached over and grabbed Eleanor by the arms and gently nudged her toward the stranger.

  “Mama—”

  Emma cut her off, again pushing Eleanor toward the man. “Please.”

  He met Emma’s gaze, and if Eleanor didn’t know better, she felt a silent communication, a softness pass between the two. He gave her an almost imperceptible nod before smiling at Eleanor. “Ready to head out?”

  Ten minutes later, after Davis had opened the door to the tiny apartment, Eleanor sat in the front seat of his car beside him. She was terribly worried about her mother. The look on her father’s face, the way his jaw muscle had bulged as she and Davis had walked away…

  “She’ll be okay, kiddo,” Davis said softly.

  She glanced over at him, noti
ng the extremely kind smile he was giving her, his features visible from the lights of his dashboard instruments. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she just gave him a small smile back as she tucked her hands into her lap.

  He got the dark green Ford Cabriolet moving slowly, water parting in their wake in the double spotlight of his headlights. It made her think of the parting of the Red Sea. They passed her father’s truck.

  “Is that your dad’s?” Davis asked.

  Eleanor nodded before clearing her throat. “Yes, sir.”

  He took a turn past the truck, a slow wave of water washing up against the stalled Ford. Once they were headed straight again, he spoke. “Do you know who I am, Eleanor?”

  She shook her head, again looking over at him. “No, sir.”

  “Well, I guess in fairness I haven’t seen you in about thirteen years.” He grinned over at her. “You and my daughter were just little things getting into trouble. The boys weren’t even born yet.”

  Eleanor looked out at the world beyond the windows of the car. To her surprise, the flooding seemed to get less the farther into town they went. “How does my family know you, sir?” she asked, feeling slightly better to hear that obviously this man knew her parents to some degree other than the tension she’d witnessed between him and her father moments before.

  “Well, nowadays, I own the building your father’s shop is in, but I’ve known your mama since we were just a little older than you.”

  She searched her memory and couldn’t ever remember a time when her mother had said the name Davis. She was putting together the bit of information he’d given her when he slowed the Ford and pulled off to the side of the road. Confused, she looked around, noting the man huddled beneath his jacket and fedora. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his baggy trousers as he hurried down the road.

  “Samuel!” Davis called out, pulling the car up alongside the walking man. The man stopped and turned to look at them, the whites of his eyes bright against the darkness of his skin. “Any luck?”