A Wedding for Julia

by Vannetta Chapman

  “Cabin numbers?” he asked Aaron.

  Aaron ran down his list.

  “And everyone was accounted for?”

  “Ya. Only minor injuries except for the one.”

  “Then we’re all here.” Caleb felt one of a dozen burdens lifted off of his shoulders. These weren’t his cabins, but somehow it felt as if these people were his responsibility until the storm passed.

  Why was that?

  Aaron was the owner. After deciding to marry Lydia and settle down in Wisconsin, he had purchased the property from his Aunt Elizabeth. He’d always been levelheaded and able to handle whatever came his way. Suddenly, though, in the light of the Englischer’s phone, Caleb realized Aaron was only twenty-four-years old. The naked fear on his face reminded Caleb of Aaron’s youth and of the young boy who used to follow him around.

  In recent weeks Caleb had suspected he’d followed his best friend’s cousin here because God intended for him to meet and care for Julia. Maybe there was another reason, though. God was all-knowing.

  Nothing surprised Him—not even the wrath of a once-in-a-century storm. And perhaps, just maybe, God had placed him here, in this barn, to help his young friend at this moment.

  He put a hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “Gotte will see us through this. He will command His angels concerning us to guard us in all our ways.” The words should have come from Ada, but as they surged into Caleb’s heart, he knew the truth of them. Even as the structure over the front portion of the barn creaked and groaned, any remaining fear he felt vanished.

  The promise from the Psalms had barely left his mouth when the front portion of the barn began to shake.

  “It’s coming down,” someone screamed.

  The horses panicked and attempted to knock down the walls to their stalls.

  Caleb tried to holler out for everyone to move toward the back wall, but he couldn’t hear anything except for a loud roaring. So he pushed Aaron to the ground, up against the earthen wall, and he ran in the opposite direction, the direction his body did not want to go—toward the front of the barn.

  He made it to the third stall, where he’d first begun counting guests. Most were now standing, watching in horror as the large doors of the barn were torn off and tossed high into the air. As lightning continued to pulse across the sky, he had a brief glimpse of the scene outside. One cabin flew through the air. An Englischer’s car slapped against the front of the barn.

  “Get back. Everyone move back!” Though he was screaming, the black funnel at the door of the barn seemed to tear his voice away. He turned from the sight of it and began pushing people toward the back wall.

  He heard them stumbling forward in the darkness and then a giant, ripping sound filled the air.

  Someone shouted, “It’s not going to hold.”

  Pumpkin shot past him in the darkness.

  Caleb clapped his hands over his ears, sure his eardrums were going to burst. He fell forward in what he hoped was the right direction—toward the earthen wall the back of the barn had been built against. He could no longer hear the horses or the people around him. He also couldn’t see. Somewhere in the last few moments he’d either dropped the phone with the flashlight or it had been ripped from his hands.

  They were now in total darkness.

  And still the monster outside the front of the barn kept advancing. He was aware of creaking and groaning as the structure fought to remain standing. When the front portion collapsed, he feared they would all be buried alive.

  Throwing himself over the two people closest to him, he covered his own head with his arms and waited for the blow to come. His heart ached as he realized he would never again hold Julia in his arms, never hear the Psalms fall from Ada’s lips, never see Sharon grow into the young woman God intended her to be.

  “The Lord is near to all who call on Him.”

  Was it Ada’s voice or King David’s he heard? He didn’t know and it didn’t matter.

  He called, he prayed, and he cried out from the depths of his heart as Aaron’s barn fell down around them.

  The prayers were still echoing in his heart when they were shrouded in complete and total silence.

  Chapter 35

  Sharon sat on the floor of the basement, pressed between Ada and Jeanette.

  The small windows at the top of the walls did not let in much light, but the lightning still occasionally flashed. Between that and the cell phones used by their guests, she was able to keep an eye on Julia’s movements.

  Apparently the phones weren’t good for much beyond providing light. She caught snippets of “Still no service” and “Why won’t it work?” but she suspected it would be some time before any type of phone service was operational again. Storms in Wisconsin were no doubt similar to those in Indiana. They came swiftly and landed hard. This storm was unlike anything Sharon had ever experienced. No doubt it had destroyed more than power and phone lines.

  At least the terrible noise had stopped, the sound she thought would be the last thing she would ever hear. The last thing any of them would ever hear.

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Ada?” Sharon squeezed the old woman’s hand again. She was literally skin and bones. It seemed a miracle that she’d survived—that they had all survived.

  “You have been my God from the moment I was born,” Ada whispered.

  “Is she all right?” The man who had read the weather predictions scooted across the floor toward them. “My name’s Brad. Is this your grandmother?”

  “Nein, but she…she is family.” What was Ada to her? Someone special. Someone she needed in her life.

  “She seems disoriented.” Brad pushed a button on his phone and held the light up to Ada.

  When Sharon saw the large lump on Ada’s head, she flinched. Was Ada all right? She was fragile and shouldn’t be out in this cold. She certainly shouldn’t be sitting on the basement floor, and now she had somehow taken a bump on the head. Was she hurt anywhere else?

  She needed to be in her bed. She needed a doctor. How long would they be down here?

  “It could be that she has a slight concussion. They can cause someone to talk out of their head a bit.”

  Ada patted her hand, and Sharon smiled. “She’s only quoting the Psalms. It’s…well, it’s what she does.”

  Brad shared their smile. “We could all use more of the Scriptures, especially today. I’ll ask your mother if there’s any water down here. We’ll try to make a compress to put over that lump.”

  He was gone before Sharon could correct him about Julia being her mother. She had a mother back in Indiana—one she hadn’t treated very well. Would she live to remedy that?

  So many regrets.

  She hadn’t appreciated her family. She hadn’t appreciated her life. What if she were to lose both now, have them ripped away from her by some stupid tornado?

  Tears tracked down her face, but she didn’t bother wiping them away. Others around her were crying. It was nothing to be ashamed of. Fear was nothing to hide.

  Even Bandit was frightened, shaking so hard that the collar he wore shimmered in the beam of the Englischer’s flashlight. The little dog had fallen silent as soon as the door was slammed shut, but he seemed to understand the danger they all were in. He would raise his eyes occasionally and look toward the stairs before dropping his head to his paws—all the time trembling as if he were standing outside in the storm.

  Zoey crawled into her lap. “I’m scared, Sharon.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes, and I dropped my doll when we were running from the car. I want her back. I want my doll.” Wess’s little sister began crying in earnest.

  “I’ll help you look for her as soon as we can go outside.”

  In another streak of lightning, Sharon saw Zoey raise the hem of her purple blouse and wipe her nose on it. “What if we can’t find her?”

  “I suppose that would make me sad, like you’re sad. Many things are lost in a storm, Zoey.” The little girl sat up stra
ighter in Sharon’s lap, clearly not expecting this line of reasoning. She found one of Sharon’s kapp strings and ran her fingers from top to bottom, repeating the motion while she thought about never seeing her doll again.

  “What then? What if we can’t find her?”

  “I could make you another.”

  Zoey put both of her hands on Sharon’s face and pressed their foreheads together. “A Plain doll?”

  “Ya. That’s the only kind I know how to make.”

  Throwing her arms around Sharon’s neck, she squeezed as tight as her little arms would allow. “Danki,” she whispered.

  “Gem gschehne.”

  Julia came to them at that moment with Brad at her side.

  “Mamm, Brad said you’re hurt.”

  “Nein. The Lord upholds all who fall.”

  “I know He does.”

  Brad again focused the light from his phone on Ada’s head. When he did, it also bathed Julia’s arm, and Sharon thought she might faint. The entire left sleeve of Julia’s dress was soaked in blood. Though she’d found some clean cloths and wrapped it, the wound was still bleeding.

  “Julia, you need to—”

  “Let’s help Ada, Sharon.” Julia’s eyes transmitted what she wasn’t willing to say in front of her mother. “I don’t have ice, but I was able to wet this hand towel. Could you hold it against her head?”

  Sharon shifted Zoey to the spot where she’d been sitting and Bandit jumped into the little girl’s lap.

  “I have her,” Jeanette whispered, collecting her daughter and the dog. Victoria was pressed close to her side as if she was afraid she’d be pulled away at any moment. “Help Julia.”

  Kneeling close to Ada, Sharon accepted the wet hand towel Julia was holding.

  “Mamm, can you rest back against the wall?”

  Ada glanced left and then right as if the room were only now coming into focus.

  “Take my jacket,” Brad said, shrugging out of his sports coat.

  Julia placed a hand on his arm. “Thank you—”

  “You’re welcome.” Smiling reassuringly at her, he rolled it into a makeshift pillow and placed it behind Ada’s head.

  Sharon was relieved when Ada closed her eyes and allowed her to place the wet towel against the bump.

  “Don’t let her sleep,” Julia cautioned. “Keep her talking every few minutes. Mamm, do you hurt anywhere else?”

  “Nein.” Ada’s hand came out, waving her away with a flutter.

  “I need to go and tend to others who are injured.”

  Others were hurt? How many? How badly? Sharon closed her eyes and breathed a prayer of forgiveness. She’d been sitting there, wallowing in her regrets and fears, and not even thinking to check if others had been hurt.

  Someone found candles and lit them. A soft light filled the basement—not enough to read by, but enough to chase away the darkness and push back the horrors happening outside their door.

  Several men came back from the basement door, shaking their heads.

  “Jammed up good,” one said. “Something’s blocking it from the outside.”

  “We could try to climb out.” Jeanette glanced up at the long row of windows running the length of one wall. By some miracle they hadn’t shattered, but they were also blocked by tree limbs.

  “Let’s wait,” Tim said. “People will come—neighbors and first responders. Until then, the safest thing would be for us to be patient.”

  He didn’t add what they all knew. The temperature outside was dropping and was probably already below freezing. How had that happened? Sharon felt dizzy thinking of all that had occurred in just a few minutes—first the warmness of the day and then plummeting temperatures followed by torrential rains and the tornado. The thought of going outside made her shiver.

  At least in the basement they had shelter. Outside, rain and hail continued to pound against the windows. Who knew what was left of their home, of their lives.

  Tears stung her eyes, and she tried to think of what to say. She was supposed to keep Ada talking.

  “Let me help you with Ada,” Wess said, appearing at her side. Bandit immediately jumped up and began licking Wess’s hand. He scratched the dog between his ears and whispered something to him. Immediately Bandit found Zoey and climbed in her lap.

  “Let me help,” Wess repeated.

  That was his way, Sharon realized. He always seemed to appear when she needed him. And wasn’t that what friends did? He’d been trying to tell her that since she’d arrived, but she’d been too afraid to believe him. That was a different kind of fear—a fear that someone could hurt her the way James had, with his truck and his blue eyes and his lies. She knew now that people could only hurt you if you let them.

  No one made her ride in his pickup. No one forced her to stare into his blue eyes. And she certainly didn’t have to believe his pathetic lies.

  But life was too hard, too unpredictable to handle alone. She needed others. She needed Wess.

  “Maybe Ada can explain to me how to read through the Psalms. I keep trying, but my attention shifts.”

  Ada opened one eye and studied him.

  “You’re a gut boy. You both are gut children.” She reached out and covered their hands with hers. “I remember being young and wanting to do what was right.”

  Sharon and Wess shared a smile. It was hard to imagine Ada ever doing anything that was wrong. Had she rebelled at one time? Had she struggled with regrets?

  “Julia’s handing out bottled water.” Wess took the cloth from her hand. “I’ll hold this. Why don’t you fetch Ada a bottle?”

  Sharon stood and hurried toward the back of the basement. It felt good to stretch her legs, and seeing the others did much to alleviate the terrible things she was imagining as she had sat holding Zoey.

  The woman with the baby was sitting in a corner, her sister positioned in front of her with the quilt Julia had grabbed around them both. Sharon couldn’t help smiling as they adjusted the quilt and she saw the mother move the babe from one breast to the other. Tornadoes might strike and darkness could fall, but a mother’s love? Nothing changed that.

  The first thing she was going to do when she left this room was write her mother and her dad a long letter. And come Thanksgiving she was going home. She didn’t know if she would stay, didn’t know what God wanted her to do yet, but she knew there were some things she needed to put right.

  Returning to Wess’s side with three bottles of water, she was surprised that several people had scooted closer, and Ada was speaking in a soft steady voice. This time it wasn’t the Psalms, but instead she told of what had happened before.

  “My babe was born in this house, you know.”

  “Julia?” Wess asked.

  “Ya. She was our only child. Gotte blessed us with her. Twice we had to take refuge in this room.”

  “What happened?” Victoria crept forward on her knees. Her hair, usually in a straight neat braid, had pulled loose and was tangled around her face, which was smeared with dirt and tears. “Did anyone die?”

  “The first time, in nineteen hundred and eighty-four, the Lord took twelve souls home, but not from here in Cashton. We thought He would. Yes, we thought He would.” Ada reached for her prayer kapp and seemed confused when she didn’t find it there. It had been knocked loose in the trip from the house to the basement.

  Reaching forward, Sharon placed an open bottle of water in Ada’s thin, wrinkled hand. Ada glanced at it, took a small sip, and continued with her story.

  “I remember that July day as if it were only yesterday. One moment the wind was whispering through the cornfield, the next—” Her hand came out to indicate something being wiped away. “Jonathan, my husband, grabbed Julia and told me to run. I was in this very room, already down the stairs. I can still hear the sound of that black cloud, coming out of the sky, as it reached for my family.”

  She laughed, and the sound seemed so completely out of place that Sharon glanced around uneasily. The group
around Ada had grown. It seemed everyone in the basement was caught up in the story. Even Bandit was watching her, and Julia had stopped to rest on an upended crate. She was looking at her mother with such love that Sharon once again felt a hand press heavily against her heart.

  How she missed her family. How she prayed she would live to see them again.

  “The door to the outside wouldn’t shut, much like today. Jonathan, he was a quiet man. He still is, I suspect, if we keep our present ways in heaven. He came down those stairs holding Julia.” Ada looked up and around the group until she found her daughter. “The force of the tornado was pulling them back outside, but he screamed—actually screamed and threw her at me.”

  No one moved or spoke, but Bandit whimpered.

  “Do you remember, Julia?”

  “Yes. I remember you catching me, and dat…I remember him struggling with the door.”

  “I fell backward with you, fell to the ground. I was so afraid I’d hurt you. When I looked up, he’d yanked the door shut and thrown the bolt. I don’t know how he did it. Never knew how—”

  “I remember him screaming.” Julia’s expression had taken on a far-away look, and Sharon realized she wasn’t seeing them anymore or this cold November afternoon. She was seeing a July day when she was a small girl.

  Chapter 36

  Julia could hardly feel the fingers of her left arm.

  She was aware she’d lost a good deal of blood, but she didn’t think rewrapping the wound was a good idea. When she’d landed at the bottom of the stairs, thrown there by the force of the tornado, she’d crashed into several of the jars of canned preserves that had fallen onto the floor. The glass had carved a jagged wound from her shoulder to her elbow.

  At first she’d been consumed by the fear that she’d hurt Victoria, or that Victoria had also been cut. It had taken a few moments to realize just how much blood was streaming down her arm as the men had struggled with the door and slammed the bolt shut.

  Staggering to her feet, she’d pushed Victoria into Jeanette’s hands and headed to the back of the basement where she knew old clean rags and towels were kept next to the washing machine.