“I’m coming with you.”
Ben shrugged. “Let’s go then. Bo, stay.”
“Apparently he isn’t interested in leaving.” Beth stroked her daughter’s hair.
“Daddy?” The panic in the child’s voice was not surprising.
“Daddy will be right back, it’s okay.”
Without listening for more, Ben opened his door and then kept it from slamming. Beth didn’t need three crying babies, that was for sure. Ansel came around the front of the vehicle and followed him to the back door.
Inside, only the pounding rain echoed in the empty house. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find neighbors or strangers there, seeking asylum after their own houses disappeared.
Ben looked around. No water spots. “I’m going to start the generator. If you want, start the fire in the stove, help take the cold out of here faster.”
For use in case of power outages, especially winter power outages, Ben had installed a wood-burning stove in the living room. In fact, Ansel had helped him put it in. For a change he had done something right, always kept the wood box full and kindling, too, and the fire laid. All Ansel had to do was strike the match.
“Okay.” Ansel sounded almost cheerful.
Another miracle. The basement was still dry. He’d been thinking he might have to wade through water, but no. Again, his father’s fine building skills had done their job. Three tries and the generator kicked over, chattered—and died. He swallowed a choice curse word and hit the starter again. “Come on, come on.” It ground, groaned, and sighed. He waited, hearing his father’s voice, reminding him to be patient. Machines needed time to adjust. Ben stared around the basement. Had he been home, this was where he would have waited out the storm. He and Allie and that baby she’d been finally carrying. He slammed the flat of his hand against the concrete wall. The sting on his palm reminded him to not hit the starter but to push it in firmly yet gently, like he was supposed to. He held it in to the count of nine, when the engine coughed and settled into the steady thrum that almost made him cry. Something was finally going right.
His father would have said thank you, Lord. At one time, Ben would have, too. Leaving the generator and memories of his father down in the basement, he flipped the switch that would send power to the rest of the house. At the base of the stairs, he paused and listened for the freezer. While yesterday seemed an eternity long, the power had not been out long enough to defrost either that one or the refrigerator upstairs. They better check the milk, though.
When he returned to the kitchen, Ansel was helping Beth and the babies in from the SUV. Bo padded right beside Beth, watching her carefully. Ansel carried his brand-new son and shepherded Natalie with the other hand.
“Here, give me the baby and you help her.” Ben wiggled a finger toward the two-year-old. He took the well-wrapped bundle of joy, and Ansel picked up his daughter.
“Go home, Daddy, wanna go home.”
“I know baby, we all do, but right now we are going to stay with Uncle Ben.”
“No! Go home.”
Beth leaned her rear against the kitchen counter, the sink right behind her. “Power and all, how blessed we are. Thank you, Ben. So…how would you like us to do this?”
“First of all, why don’t you sit down and we’ll figure it out.” Allie would have had a fit if she saw the state of their house right now, and company here. Not that Beth and Ansel were company, more like family. The two couples had done everything together.
“I don’t have any baby things.” He followed her into the living room. When she eased down on the sofa—she had to move some dirty clothes aside to make room—he started to hand her the bundle he was carrying, but she still had Dawn. Natalie climbed up next to her mother, all the while giving Ben the eye, as if this were all his fault. “You know the bedrooms are upstairs. I kept the downstairs one as the TV room.” And it was the worst mess of all.
“Perhaps we could do the drawer thing for both of the babies. You have something like that?”
“Sure. The guest room has a queen-size bed and…” The bundle in his arms started to squeak.
Beth laid Dawn on the sofa on her other side and reached for the baby. Bo sat with his nose next to the still-sleeping infant.
“I’ll bring in the rest of the stuff.” Ansel left.
“We’ll need to figure out a way to keep Natalie from falling down those stairs.” Beth looked around the room. “We could lay a couple of those dining room chairs, one at the top and one at the bottom.” She yawned. “I know you need sleep desperately, Ben, and so do I. So I think we might give Ansel the first watch.”
Ben caught the yawn from her and his nearly cracked his jaw. He ought to be the cheerful host. He was a zombie. “Ansel can find what you need, right? The linen closet is in the hall by the bathroom. That bed hasn’t been changed since I don’t know when, but no one’s slept in it. Clean sheets and towels. Gas water heater, so we have hot water.”
“Go to sleep, Ben. We’ll be fine.”
He recognized the tone of her voice as the same one she used to soothe her little daughter, but at the moment he was beyond caring. He stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Coming, Bo?”
Bo thumped his tail and, as if shrugging, turned back to his watch.
“Wake me when it’s my shift.” Ben used the railing to half pull himself up the stairs, fell on his bed, and knew no more.
When a cold nose flipped his palm up, waking him, he blinked and stared at the clock. Seven. But looking out the window, he had no idea if that was A.M. or P.M. “Good dog.” He stroked Bo’s head and waited for memories to return. For a change he did not have a thundering headache and the phone was not ringing. Should he be at work already or—? Or! He had a baby now. And people living here and two babies and…Yesterday rolled back through his mind like the nightmare it had been. Had Dawn needed him and he’d slept right through it? Wouldn’t that prove to Esther he was not a fit father for her?
“Why’d you let me sleep like that?” He sat on the edge of the bed and scratched his head.
Bo cocked his head and gave him a doggy grin.
“Well, you’re sure in a good mood. How’s our baby?”
Bo headed for the doorway, then turned to look over his shoulder as if to make certain Ben was up.
“I’m coming.”
He filled a basket with dirty laundry on the way to the kitchen. Wait. Shouldn’t run the washing machine on the generator. He’d take the load down anyway. When he got to the head of the stairs, he heard laughter, both adults and a child’s high-pitched giggle. He found them around the small table in the kitchen, with Natalie sitting on a stack of phone books. Lots of phone books; small town.
“The coffee is still hot.” Beth smiled at him. “I hope you slept well.”
“Slept. I think I died.” Ben poured himself a mug of coffee and leaned back against the counter. “Sure smells good in here.”
“I’ll fix you a plate.” Ansel pushed his chair back. “How do you like your eggs?”
“Over easy. But I can do my own.”
“I know, but I’m getting to know your kitchen. Sit down.”
Surprised, Ben did as he was told. “What happened to taking turns, shifts?”
Beth seemed cheerful, too. “Well, we did. I slept for a while, then while I fed Nathan here, who thinks his meal should be more than it is yet, Ansel went to sleep. Dawn was awake for a while. If she so much as kicks her feet, Bo will come and get you. He’s worse than an old man.”
“Is she sleeping now?”
“Just got her back down. Most babies take a morning nap.”
“I not a baby.” Natalie stared across the table at him, then gave her mother a line of gibberish that left Ben wondering if his hearing was going out.
Beth handed her daughter the last piece of bacon and Natalie munched away, never taking her gaze off Ben.
“Did anyone try to wake me?”
“Bo did, but when he came back down, I swear
he was shaking his head.”
“I don’t even remember that. No one called from the office?”
“Nope. But then the phone lines are down, no dial tone. The tower is back in business. I used my cell to call my mother and make sure they were all right and let them know where we are.”
If his cell had shrieked at him, surely he would have heard it. And Bo would have persisted. “I better call in.” He pulled his cell out of the holster and groaned. Dead. He’d forgotten to plug it in.
Ansel shook his head. “We did the same. Plugged it in this morning so if you want, you can use it.” He set a plate in front of Ben and his cell, too.
“Do we have power yet?”
Ansel frowned. “I don’t remember. Is your generator set to shut down when the power comes on?”
“Yes, but there is a slight pause. A long flicker.”
“Then no, at least I don’t think so, but I haven’t taken time to go down there and check. How big is your fuel tank?”
“Diesel and fifty gallons, so we’re in good shape.” Ben fell to eating and listened while Ansel brought him up to speed.
“They hope the river crested, it stopped raining about three A.M., no flooding so far, but the high water has cut pretty far into the bank on the other side, that bend on the far side downstream of the bridge. Talk of closing it.”
“You’ve been on the police band?” Ben spread jam on his toast. He had his base radio set up in the living room, and thanks to the generator they had access to the news that way. He picked up Ansel’s cell and punched in the numbers of the border patrol. He had to stop and think, since he had his phone set on speed dial and never dialed the number any longer. “Did anyone mention the WiFi towers?”
“They got the one across the river operational sometime during the night. The one in town took a hit, but repairs should move ahead now that the storm is leaving. We can only pray that the storm right behind the first bypasses us.”
“There’s another one on the way? Wasn’t this one enough?”
Jenny’s business-like voice. “Border patrol.”
“Jenny, Ben here.”
“Oh, good. We were about to send someone to your house to check on you. You all right?”
“I am. Ansel and Beth are here with me, since their house isn’t habitable.” From the sound of the breath she exhaled, he figured she was afraid he was passed out, not just sleeping. And passed out for a different reason than exhaustion. “Jenny, listen. I am okay.” He spoke slowly and with all the sincerity he could muster.
“Ah, good. That’s real good. Chief said to tell you that for right now, you needn’t come in. That baby is with you, right?”
“Yes, Esther gave her okay when Beth and Ansel needed a place to stay, too. Is there anything more I need to know right now?” Even he could detect the difference in his voice. He was feeling pushed again. Jenny cared, that’s all; he mustn’t let it get to him.
It wasn’t her fault she was the first to hear the news. Well, often the second. Whoever was manning 911 heard the worst first, then border patrol, if at all.
“You’re sure this is all right?” He lifted the cell away from his ear to look at the face. Two bars. “My phone should be recharged fairly soon.”
Jenny was asking, “You have enough fuel for your generator?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now, don’t get huffy. You have no idea how many calls we’ve had for diesel. They’re about out at the Quick Stop. So, you better refill yours, just in case.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Sorry.”
Don’t be a jerk, James. You’ve been one for far too long. “Are there still travel restrictions on the roads?”
“Yes, we’re asking people to not drive unless absolutely necessary. The usual service trucks, emergency vehicles, and National Guard are excluded, of course.”
“How is Esther doing?”
Jenny was silent a moment. “Let’s just say…ah…”
“I take it the military are still over at the clinic?”
“Ah, yes, that would be affirmative.”
“Is her house still standing and habitable?” He couldn’t believe he was asking these questions, and from the sound of Jenny’s voice, she was surprised, too.
“I—I think so.”
“She’s not sleeping at the clinic?”
“Not that I know of.”
And if she didn’t know, no one did, so he rather doubted. The grapevine in this small burg could relay information faster than the WiFi, although all those downed phones might slow it up a little.
“Thanks, Jenny.”
Again, she sounded as though she was shocked and trying to conceal it. Had he really been as bad as all that? Or was she overreacting? She wasn’t much of a drama queen, so he doubted she was overreacting.
Since he’d not stopped at the cleaner’s, his uniforms were in the SUV. Better bring them in and hang them. They were probably pretty dank and a little smelly. On his way out the door, he caught a message on the scanner. The bridge was now officially closed.
Chapter Nine
Good thing her mother had trained her well in manners.
Esther managed to nod at Dr. Livingston’s instructions, although she flunked smiling. At least she didn’t think she was shooting daggers at him and his high-handedness, even though she most assuredly thought about it. He is only doing his job, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time. And he is good at his job. Your job is to be thankful.
The reminder to herself drummed deeper into her subconscious. Thankfulness was not normal when orders and questions were dipping and flying faster than bats in a cloud of mosquitoes. Her response with a “Yes, sir,” caught her by surprise and earned her a narrow-eyed look.
Dr. Livingston stared at her a moment, then rolled his lips to keep from smiling, if the slight crease in his cheeks could be called a smile. “You are not one of my staff, are you?”
“Rhetorical question. But I do appreciate all that you have brought to us and all that you and your staff are doing.”
“Thank you, Doctor. That was well said.” He leaned his haunches against a counter. “Do you have any questions?”
“I understand you’re pulling out before the next front hits.”
He nodded. “Affirmative. The National Guard will still be on site but not medical help. I wish we had some roads open, but closing the bridge cuts off your closest route to Grand Forks, am I right?”
“Yes.”
“But there is another?”
“Of sorts, an unmarked road up this side of the river. But at least all our supplies are restocked—and, thanks to you, some things we didn’t have before.”
“And you and your people got some rest?” With arms loosely crossed over his chest, he rubbed his chin with one finger.
“Yes, thank you.”
He dug a card out of his chest pocket and handed it to her. “A direct line to me. If you get an emergency over your head, call me and perhaps we can talk you through it.”
Esther mentally heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I didn’t see any way of helping our bleeder, short of going in, and we just weren’t set up for that.”
“I know. Our field hospitals are far better equipped than you are. I hear you’ve been lobbying for a regional hospital to go here.”
She nodded. “Fat lot of good it has done.”
“You’ve taken on the county, too?”
She shook her head. “But that’s the next step. Hopefully this storm will change their minds.” Like closing the barn door after the horse had hightailed it but better late than never. She must still be tired; she was even thinking in clichés.
“Why have you not gone back and gotten your MD?”
She hoped the flinch didn’t show. “Personal things.”
“How long have you suffered from PTSD and what are you doing about it?” When she started to say something, he held up a hand traffic-cop-style. “Don’t try to BS me, I’ve been at this
a long time and heard it all.”
Esther pulled herself up short and reminded her shoulders to disengage from her earlobes. “I hoped I was dealing with it well enough.”
“On meds?”
“And counseling. Have been for about three years.”
“And?”
Esther heaved a sigh. “And this was hard to deal with.” Talk about understatement!
“‘This’ meaning the storm and all the chaos?”
She nodded. “The pressures of med school sent me into full-blown attacks and so I dropped out—before they could kick me out.”
“You are sure they would have kicked you out?”
“I guess.”
“Or was it the paranoia of the disorder?”
“I—ah…” She stared down at her crossed arms and tongued her bottom lip. When she looked back up at him, she could feel her eyelashes near to fluttering, her throat drying, and one swallow wasn’t sufficient. “I don’t know.” The words wrenched themselves from a dark place deep inside and flung themselves from her mouth. “I was afraid I might misdiagnose or mistreat a patient. I couldn’t bear it if someone died or grew worse because I couldn’t control what was going on in my head.” Or my whole body for that matter—the tremors used to rack her entire body.
“But the diagnosis by someone other than yourself is solid and documented?”
She shook her head. “All of that would show up on my medical records. No bona fide med school would let me back in.”
“I wouldn’t give up on that if I were you. So you basically do everything any doctor would do in a clinic on the edge of nowhere. And it looks like without supervision?”
“We are an affiliate of the regional hospital in Grand Forks. They send various specialists up on a rotating schedule and I report to Dr. Ho, head of the satellite clinics.”
“I see.”
“Five minutes, Major.” The call came from the hallway.
“I’m going to think on this and get back to you. There might be some other avenues.”
“Thank you, sir.” The rush of gratitude wobbled her knees. Don’t count on anything, that insidious inner voice warned her. After all, he doesn’t know the whole story. She chose as usual to ignore the voice. “And thank you for all your assistance here. Please thank your staff, too.” She held out her right hand and shook his.
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