Taking the Reins

by Carolyn McSparren

  He had worried over the answer to that from the moment he made his airline reservation. Now, he was amazed at the words that tumbled out of his mouth.

  “I begged Pappa to let me leave with his blessing, not like a thief in the night. Becca, I was seventeen years old. I wasn’t certain what I wanted, but I knew it wasn’t the life I had. I hated leaving the people I loved, but I was more afraid of staying than I was of leaving. I made the only choice I could.

  “I don’t want the land. I would like your forgiveness whether I deserve it or not. But I can live without it if I must. I do not regret leaving, although I regret the way I had to do it. If you never want to see me again, I can live with that. But I would like to send you letters and have you answer if you can.”

  “You won’t come back?” She sounded suspicious. “You are a bad influence on the children. You fill their heads with tales of guns and oceans.”

  “Becca,” Helga said sadly. But she didn’t disagree with the words.

  He didn’t blame any of them. This afternoon he’d tossed what Helga called “a boom” into the middle of their ordered lives. They’d settle down again after he left, although if he were lucky maybe either Helga or Joan would answer his letters. But he had learned what he needed to know. He’d had to leave alone, without even telling his mother he was going. And if that choice was right, maybe he could learn to live with the others he’d made.

  “Becca, what if Pappa had refused you permission to marry your Roger?” he asked.

  “He gave his permission.”

  “But what if he hadn’t.”

  “We’d have married anyway.”

  “See?”

  “It’s not the same thing.”

  “Yes, Becca, it is.”

  “Come, everyone,” Johann called from the porch. “We eat.”

  Jake started for his rental car, but Becca’s voice stopped him. “Where are you going, Jacob? Did you not hear? It is time to eat.” She grabbed his arm and half dragged him toward the backyard.

  “Becca, I don’t want to intrude....”

  Suddenly she smiled at him. His mother’s beautiful smile. “It’s not a fatted calf, Jacob. Will sauerbraten do?”

  That’s when he lost it. Completely. He managed to hold his three sisters at once while they all sobbed. Becca was the first to break free. She slapped him on the chest. “You are a fool, Jacob Thompson.” She sniffed. “But you are our brother. Come. Help Mama to the table.”

  * * *

  HE PULLED INTO his little mom-and-pop motel twenty miles from the farm after dark and half stumbled into his room. It was far from plush, but he felt as though he could sleep on a concrete slab. His eyes burned from the fire that had grilled the bratwurst and heated the water for the sweet corn; his knee ached from getting up and down to speak to his mother, and his head ached from too much noise and too many people.

  If the community tried to shun everyone who spoke to him, after today they’d wind up with a lot fewer members.

  This night was as close as he might ever come to reconciling with his family. Eating dinner with them might get them in trouble, even after all these years. Perhaps in time he might come back again, even though Becca was afraid of his influence on the children and steered them away from him even at the dinner table. Marthe interposed herself between him and Zebulon, much to Zeb’s displeasure. If it were up to him, the boy would have appropriated Jake and picked his brain until he drove away.

  He longed to call Charlie to tell her what had happened, but what he had to say, he needed to say face-to-face. She was probably still justly angry at him. He planned to use the drive to the airport and the plane ride to get his thoughts in order.

  Wanting Charlie’s respect had forced him to confront his demons. Wanting her love had forced him to beat them. This particular Saint George had his dragon on the ropes. Tomorrow he’d drop off his rental car in Columbia and fly home to Memphis.

  Home to Charlie.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “CHARLIE.” MICKEY STUCK his head in the door. “We got a problem.”

  “Another one?” Charlie leaned back and began to laugh. She couldn’t seem to stop. Every time she caught Mickey or Sarah’s eyes, she laughed harder until tears streamed down her face. She knew she was on the edge of hysteria, but she couldn’t stop. “The only thing worse is an earthquake.”

  “Close,” Mickey said. “Would you buy tornado?”

  Charlie sobered fast. “Tornado? There’s no bad weather scheduled.”

  “According to NOAA the front was supposed to go north of us sometime tomorrow morning. It’s changed direction and it’s coming fast. Southhaven just got hit. Trees down, power lines on the ground. It’s a big one, Charlie. It’s headed straight for us. Look outside.”

  Just then the tornado sirens in Collierville sounded. A second later all the lights went off. The only illumination came from streaks of lightning followed much too closely by claps of thunder.

  “Where’s the colonel?” Charlie asked. She got to her feet and headed out the back door.

  “He drove downtown to talk to his decorator,” Sarah said with a sniff. “Imagine Granddad with a decorator. And Vittorio went home early.”

  “Look outside,” Hank said from the hall. “It’s black out there.”

  “Get Sean and Mary Anne. Everybody, go climb down into the grease pit.” Charlie ran toward the equipment shed. “Sarah, show them how to get down there. Come on, people. Time’s awastin’.”

  The afternoon had been windy with lots of clouds, but nothing like this. The wind whipped Charlie’s hair into her eyes. One gust nearly knocked her off her feet. She could hear the others pelting behind her and the whir of Mickey’s chair.

  “There’s a pipe ladder in the wall at the far end to climb down,” she shouted. “You’ll have to let Mickey down by his arms. We can’t get his wheelchair below. Sarah, show them, you’ve done this before.” She started the big tractor, backed it around and aimed it at the pit.

  “Hey, you gonna run us down?” Hank shouted into the wind.

  “Get down there, then I’ll park it over the pit so the outside walls can’t fall on you if the shed gets hit in the storm.”

  “We’ll be able to climb out, won’t we?” Mickey said.

  “I’ll leave room for you to crawl out between the tractor’s rear tires. Now, people!”

  Sarah and Mary Anne scrambled down the ladder. Hank and Sean lowered Mickey by his arms until his feet were on the floor and his body propped against the concrete wall with Mary Anne’s arm around his waist. “What am I supposed to sit on?” he complained.

  “Your rear end!” Hank said. “Here’s the cushion out of your chair.” He tossed the thick seat cushion down. Mary Anne caught it and lowered Mickey onto his backside.

  Sean and Hank scrambled down, then Charlie drove the tractor so that the tires straddled the opening. “I’ll park Mickey’s chair on the downwind side,” she called.

  “Hurry!” Sarah said. “It’s getting darker.” A flash of lightning was followed almost at once by a crack of thunder that echoed in the metal building.

  If the time between the lightning and the thunder could be measured at a mile per second, that last strike was much too close. “I’ll be down in five minutes,” Charlie called. “I’ve just got to turn the inside horses into the pasture.”

  “What?” Sean called from the pit. “Charlie, are you crazy? You don’t have time.”

  “Sure I do,” she said. “The rest of you stay put. You’ll be safe.” Over the din they couldn’t hear her footsteps.

  “We have to go help her,” Sean said.

  “No, we don’t,” Sarah said. “She said to stay put. If we all go out there, we’ll get separated. I’m doing what she says.”

  “For once,” whi
spered Mickey.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  AS HE DROVE through Collierville, Jake watched the clouds boil up behind him.

  The flight from Missouri had been harrowing. They’d barely gotten airborne when the winds began to buffet them. The plane landed safely at Memphis, but he made a vow not to fly on a feeder airline in bad weather again anytime soon.

  Charlie’s truck sat in the airport parking garage where he’d left it. Rain drenched it as he drove out from under the roof. He should probably warn Sean he was on his way, but that would entail pulling off and stopping in a parking lot. Even if he believed in talking on cell phones while driving, in this weather he needed all his concentration and both hands on the wheel. The trucks whipping by threw up cascades of water that left him momentarily blinded.

  He turned on the radio to hunt for a weather station, but all he found was static. Great. When he finally pulled off 385 and onto the highway that led to the turnoff for the farm, he stopped under the overhang of a gas station and called.

  No answer. Then he realized that the lights at the station were off and the pumps were not in use. No electricity. Not unusual in a storm. It might be off for ten minutes or ten hours. Nothing to do but keep driving and show up unannounced the way he had at Helga’s. The storm seemed to be taking direct aim at the farm. He ran across the dial on the radio once more and found a single station announcing a tornado warning. A moment later the sirens went off.

  Charlie and the others might not be able to hear the sirens from the farm. This was not merely another thunderstorm—he could smell the ozone. He knew that smell from his childhood. A tornado shelter was a necessity where Jake grew up, and Micah Thompson had built a strong one. Good thing. Jake and the others had hunkered in it often while funnel clouds raced across the sky around them. Their house had never experienced a direct hit, but over the years, they’d lost two run-in sheds and one double plow.

  Chances were minimal Charlie’s farm would take a direct hit, but he still wanted to be there, to be with Charlie and the others in case they needed him.

  He wanted a life with Charlie and Sarah. Whatever it took to make it work, he’d do it. He didn’t care where they lived or what they did, so long as they were together. Maybe he could find land close to Charlie’s. They’d work it out somehow.

  A branch blew by him. He swerved to miss it and momentarily lost control of the truck, before he wrested it back into the center of the road and turned off on the side road that led to the farm. When he turned into the driveway and parked, everything seemed normal. “Charlie,” he shouted, leaping out of the truck. “Sean, Mary Anne—anybody!”

  Jake ran into the near end of the stable and saw Charlie at the far end.

  “Charlie!”

  She turned, barely able to keep her feet in the wind coming in the side door. “You left. You took the truck and left.” She had to shout. “Where did you go? What did you do?”

  “No time for that now. There’s a tornado coming. I had to warn you.”

  “We’ve got weather radio. I already got the others into the grease pit in the garage. That’s the safest place to ride it out. Since you’re here, you better go join them.”

  He grabbed her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “You know that’s not the reason I came back.”

  “Do I?”

  He couldn’t tell whether the moisture on her cheeks came from the rain or tears.

  “I left because I did it again. I made the wrong decision, and you got hurt. I chose not to tell you about Sarah. You trusted me, and I betrayed you just the way I’ve betrayed everyone else I love.”

  “Who said anything about love?” She dashed the rain from her cheeks.

  “I did.”

  “You don’t run out on people you love.”

  “I did.”

  “Well, stop it.” She sounded furious. “People make bad decisions all the time. You do, I do, Sarah did. Love is risky. Deal with it.”

  A five-foot branch covered with leaves struck his shoulder. The sky had gone black. Around them the trees whipped and bent. Bits of gravel from the driveway flew up and struck their faces. He turned his back to the storm. “I did.”

  She touched his cheek. “You’re bleeding.” She turned and started walking away. “It’s getting closer. We have to get the horses outside. I can’t leave them trapped in their stalls.”

  “I’ll turn them out. Get to the grease pit.”

  She flung her hair out of her eyes. “Too many horses for one person to move.” The wind hurled the words back at him as he limped after her.

  He heard the horses kicking their stalls. Storms normally didn’t bother them, but they knew this one was different. They always knew. “Open the stall doors and turn them out,” he said.

  “They could run out onto the road and hit a car. We’ve got to move them into the pasture.”

  “I said I’ll do it. Charlie, you go now.”

  “We have ample time if we hurry.” She grabbed the halter and lead line from Pindar’s stall, slid the door open only wide enough to get in, haltered him, threw the door wide and pulled him forward. He fought her. He was terrified to stay where he was, but too scared to go outside into the wind. “Come on!” she yelled, wrapping the line across his nose and pulling. “Jake, we’ll have to put the geldings in with the mares. No time to take them to the geldings’ pasture.”

  Once in the aisle, Pindar seemed to realize the danger lay inside. He dragged her out the side door, across the gravel road to the pasture gate and tugged at his line while Jake held the gate open.

  She barely had time to pull off the halter before the big horse galloped across the pasture to join the mares and foals. They were huddled together in the far corner, heads down, rumps to the rain. The mares formed a circle around the foals, shielding them with their bodies.

  Jake brought Annie and Aries out.

  As she ran back into the stable, Charlie was caught by a gust of straight-line winds that threw her to her knees.

  “Charlie!” Jake pulled her to her feet.

  “I’m okay. Come on.” She ducked inside and away from the opening. She rubbed her shoulder and grimaced. “Leave me. I’m fine.”

  The wind blew small branches against the metal sides of the barn and rattled the metal roof like a giant hand playing a snare drum.

  Charlie hauled Terror, the pony, to the pasture while Jake opened the stallion’s stall. Picard reared and backed against the rear wall. The whites of his eyes showed and his nostrils flared in terror.

  “Easy, big guy,” Jake cajoled and grabbed a handful of mane. Picard lowered his head when he felt Jake’s touch. In that instant of calm, Jake slid the halter on and snapped it under his jaw.

  The stallion reared straight up, dragging Jake off his feet and narrowly missing his skull with his right front hoof. “Knock it off, big guy,” Jake said. “We’re trying to save your neck.”

  No way could they put him out with the other horses. He’d try to kill the babies and geldings and attempt to breed the mares, even in the middle of a tornado.

  The only choice was to let him out into the stallion paddock attached to his stall. It wasn’t large, but it would give him some freedom of movement. The fence was electrified, although with the power off, it wouldn’t actually zap him. Jake hoped he wouldn’t test it. He stood back out of the way as Picard thundered through the open door and into his paddock, then raced to the fence across from the mares’ pasture and began to rear and scream for the other horses.

  That left Molly in the foaling stall with Flopsy and Mopsy. He found Charlie putting a halter on Molly, who quaked with fear.

  The wind had risen to a banshee scream, and the rain pelting on the metal roof made so much noise Jake couldn’t hear what Charlie said.

  Jake put his mouth to her ear
, and yelled, “We can’t put them out.”

  “We have to!”

  “Shut the outside doors, open their stall door and leave them in the aisle.”

  “What if the tornado hits?”

  “Inside, they’ve got room to move. We put them out, the others could kill them. Come on, we have to shut the doors first.”

  It took both of them to pull the fifteen-foot-wide steel doors together and latch them from the inside. Jake felt the gravel from the driveway sting his face and arms. He tried to shield Charlie, but she pushed him away.

  When they opened her door, Molly hunkered against the back wall. Mopsy was small enough to shelter under her belly, but Flopsy was already too tall to do more than lean against her. Their eyes were wide and frightened, but so long as Molly remained in the stall, they’d stay with her.

  “Leave her,” Jake said.

  “What about us? We can’t open the outside doors. She could run away.”

  “Out the common room door. Then we run along the back of the barn to the grease pit.” He grabbed her hand. “No time to argue. Is there room for us with the others?”

  “Barely. I parked the big tractor over the pit so the roof wouldn’t fall into it.” She ran with him.

  As they opened the common room door, the giant oak on the far side of the patio leaned away from the barn and then toppled slowly, its roots tearing out of the sodden earth. It fell between the barn and garage and barely missed hitting the roof of the common room.

  Even over the cacophony of the storm and the scream of the wind, the tree hit the ground like a bomb. At the far end, the heavy branches propped the trunk a couple of feet above the ground and surrounded it like a green cave.

  “We have to go back!” Charlie shouted.

  From one second to the next, the world went still. No wind, no rain—silence.

  Charlie clutched Jake’s hand and whispered, “It’s coming. We can’t reach the shed.”

  “Crawl under the tree. Now! Get as far under as you can.” Jake thrust her toward the oak as the first blast of hail hit him. “Behind the branches,” he said and shoved her to her knees. “Lie flat as you can. They’ll stop the debris.” Or some of it, he thought. A direct hit from a level-five tornado could roll that tree across the pasture like a toothpick and the pair of them with it.