“Sounds like a plan. Sort of like old times, when your granddad and me held the fort all by our lonesome in that thunderstorm of ’83.”
Alan let his mind drift back. He would’ve been Louemma’s age. “I remember, I think. Didn’t Windridge lose power for three days?”
“Yep. The next week was when Jason ordered the generators installed. We’ve only needed ’em a few times since. That storm caused Windridge to have the leanest year on record. Lost a hundred batches of mash and every damn thing in the fermentation room.”
“I’m glad these bad storms aren’t a yearly fact of life.” The men walked out together. Alan rode the elevator to the basement. He was soaked to the skin long before he wheeled his Jeep into the turnaround in front of the house.
Louemma met him at the door. “I’m all packed to go to Laurel’s, Daddy. Yuck—you’re dripping all over the floor.”
“I know. It’s awful out there, honeybee. I just came home to say I don’t want you going to Laurel’s this afternoon. I’ve gotta grab some food and go straight back to help Hardy test the generators in case we lose power tonight. Ask Nana to phone Laurel and explain. I know she’ll understand.”
Louemma broke into loud sobs.
“No tears, please,” Alan begged. “I know I said this is your last weekend with her.” He touched her hair and she pulled away. “Louemma, blame the weather, not me. I promise we’ll reschedule for another time when the weather’s better. There’s a good girl,” he said, bending to dry her tears with his damp handkerchief. “Now run along and send Birdie out here. Hardy’s waiting for me.” Alan straightened, feeling more than a little distressed by her continued tears. But what choice did he have? He blew Louemma a kiss and when Birdie appeared, requested sandwiches, which she threw together in five minutes flat. Then he squished back out in his wet boots.
“Was that your father?” Vestal called as Louemma hobbled up the stairs.
“Yes.” The girl burst into tears again. “He has to help Mr. Duff check the dumb old generators. So I can’t go stay with Laurel. We won’t get to make our leaf people, ’cause the leaves will get all brittle by the time we can reschedule.”
“There, there. The generators will come in handy if this storm worsens. But you know what? Just because the men have things to do doesn’t mean you need to give up your outing. Birdie’s got the weekend off. She’s almost ready to leave for Frankfort to see her son and his family. I’m sure if we ask, she’d swing by Laurel’s and drop you off. Dry your eyes and let’s go ask.”
“Sure, I’ll take you. Be glad to,” Birdie said. “If your suitcase is packed, we can leave right now.”
Vestal waved as the two set off. She closed the door against a gust of wind.
LAUREL HAD BRAVED the wind and rain to go check on her pregnant mare. Cinnabar had grown chubby and cantankerous in recent weeks. The vet assured Laurel the mare was healthy and that everything was progressing as it should. Nevertheless, Laurel worried about her, especially in this storm.
Already the level of the creek had risen to the underside of the footbridge. If the rain continued for several more hours, as the TV weatherwoman warned, Laurel knew the vet likely couldn’t get here if she needed him.
Hurrying back to her cottage from the corral, Laurel was shocked to see Alan Ridge’s housekeeper helping Louemma cross the rain-slick bridge.
“Hey,” she called, veering off to intercept her guests. “I assumed your father would cancel our weekend because of the terrible weather, Louemma.”
The girl said nothing. Birdie clung to the bridge railing with one hand as she passed Laurel the suitcase with the other. “Miss Vestal said Mr. Alan’s tied up at the distillery. I’m off to Frankfort to visit my son. It was no problem for me to bring Louemma. But it’s far more treacherous driving than I expected. At times, the rain blew so hard I couldn’t see. So I won’t stay to chat. You two have fun. I hope you’re planning to stay indoors by a warm fire.”
“That we are,” Laurel replied with a grin. “And Birdie, drive carefully.”
She moved closer to Louemma, wrapping half of her jacket around the girl. They watched Birdie turn her small car around and head back the way she’d come. “You know what, kiddo? That doggy pal of yours is such a fair-weather pooch. He stuck his nose out as I was going to check on my horses, but the big wimp turned tail and went back to flop down by the fire.”
Louemma gazed solemnly up at Laurel. “I guess I’m a wimp, too. I wish it would stop. I don’t like so much rain. And I hate thunder.”
“Then let’s scoot on inside. I heard a rumble a minute ago, closer than the last one. Inside we’ll be snug and cozy. I’m sure this old cabin’s weathered worse.”
Her quip at least brought a ghost of a smile to the girl’s lips. Truthfully, though, Laurel didn’t much care for storms of this magnitude, either. Too many times while she was growing up her mother had left her alone and terrified. Yet that was all in the past. Today she was determined to take her mind and Louemma’s off conditions they couldn’t control.
“I think we should start with hot chocolate.” At Louemma’s agreement, Laurel fixed them each a mug. She helped the girl sip hers in between working on her weaving project.
“I’m glad you brought my loom down here, Laurel. I only have three more rows and Nana’s table runner will be done. I’ll give the scarf to Birdie.”
“I’ll wrap the gifts and put them in a plastic bag. You can bring it home when you leave, and hide it somewhere.”
When the runner was finished, Laurel tied off the last row for her. “You did a beautiful job, Louemma.”
“I did, didn’t I? Now can I make Birdie some leaf people for her refrigerator?”
“Sure.” Laurel had set all the supplies they’d need on a card table in the living room. “There’s no rush. We have tonight and all day tomorrow.”
“You said we’d play Scrabble. And I wanna start weaving a scarf for my dad. Out of that gray-and-black chenille. To go with his black leather jacket. He’ll look so cool this winter. Don’t you think he’ll look cool?” she said, darting a coy glance at Laurel.
“Cool…definitely.” Laurel paused, biting her lip. “Honey, we have time to do it all. Will you paint some of the heads and arms on the construction paper? It’s easy if you look at the pictures in the book. Oh, come on, try before you refuse. Watch me. Holding a marker isn’t much different from holding your loom shuttle.”
“But I can’t lift my hand up to the card table.” Louemma remained adamant. She refused again as thunder pealed overhead. Simultaneously, lightning cracked outside the window, sending bright reflections skittering across the polished living-room floor. Seated on the couch, Louemma slid closer to Laurel.
“I think I’ll draw the drapes.” Laurel got up and crossed the room to shut out the intensifying storm. Dog sidled over to rub against the child, who shivered on the couch in spite of a crackling fire.
“There’s more light in the kitchen,” Laurel said. “Shall we move in there?”
Louemma nodded, her eyes wide with fright.
“We’re safe in here, honey.” Laurel transferred their supplies and soon the corner breakfast nook was littered with drawings.
Getting up, Laurel attached two of the finished sheets to her refrigerator with magnets. “These are great. Even cuter than I expected,” she said.
“I’m sad, though. Daddy says this is our last weekend, Laurel. Why are you and him so mad at each other? I liked it better when we were all friends.”
Laurel hesitated, and heard gusty wind rattle her windows and doors. “Did you ask him that question?”
Louemma nodded. “He said it’s got nothing to do with me. But it does so if we can’t do this kinda fun stuff anymore. Besides, it wasn’t nice of him to make you cry. He said he didn’t, but I saw you the other day when we drove off.”
The child looked so aggrieved, the ache in Laurel’s heart grew worse. Unless the storm was making her extra edgy. Sometimes the kine
tic energy unleashed by an electric storm did affect her mood.
“It’s only five o’clock, but it looks like night out,” she murmured, cupping her hands to the rain-drenched window so she could see better. Preferring to drop the subject of Alan, she stepped onto the back stoop and flipped on the perimeter lights. Rain slanted first one way, then another. “Let’s take a break. I want to check the TV weather channel to see if they’ve got any idea how soon things will begin calming down.”
“When can we eat?”
“I’d planned to warm up some homemade corn chowder I fixed yesterday. Does chowder and bread sound okay for a stormy night?”
“Oh, yummy! Is it worse out now than when Birdie brought me, Laurel? Do you think she’ll be okay driving to Frankfort?”
Laurel glanced at her watch. “I’m sure she’s there by now. Her son would phone your house if she didn’t arrive on time. Your father or Vestal would let us know.”
“Daddy and Mr. Duff are testing generators at the warehouse. He doesn’t know I came here, Laurel.” Louemma lowered her chin and fidgeted. Dog whined and nosed her limp fingers as she whispered, “Daddy said for me to stay home. Nana and Birdie are the ones who let me come, anyway.”
“What?” Distracted by a huge clap of thunder, Laurel wheeled away from the window to pin the child with a frown. “Alan doesn’t know you’re with me?”
Louemma gave a guilty shake of her head. Her gaze remained downcast.
Needing time to mull over the astounding news, Laurel opened the front door and walked out on the windy porch. The perimeter lights mounted on tall poles whipped back and forth. Even with the sporadic light she was able to see that the creek had risen a lot since Louemma and Birdie had crossed the bridge. Curls of angry water slapped the abutments, occasionally washing over the boards. As she watched in morbid fascination, a rather large tree branch floating downstream hit the bridge, and water spewed up and over it like a fountain.
Panic welled unexpectedly in Laurel’s throat. She flew back into the house and slammed the door. “Louemma, I want you to listen to me, sweetheart. This has nothing to do with the fact that you and Vestal went behind your dad’s back and did something he asked you not to do. The storm is making me a little nervous. I’m afraid the bridge may wash out. Then you and I could be stranded here for who knows how long. I’m going to phone Alan and have him come get you.”
Louemma started to cry. Kneeling in front of her, Laurel lifted the girl’s chin and said again, “This is a matter of your safety. I love you, Louemma, and I wouldn’t want anything I did or didn’t do to bring you harm. But no matter how much I care for you, your father loves you more. This is his decision to make. I’ll ask for another weekend to take the place of this one, okay?”
The girl sniffled several times but ended up nodding. Laurel rose and immediately went to the phone. She punched in the number from memory. It rang repeatedly until finally Vestal answered. “This is Laurel. Could I speak to Alan? No, no. Louemma’s fine. We’re, uh, both fine, and having a good time. I just have a question for him. He’s still at the distillery? Vestal, you sound out of breath. Is everything all right there?”
Laurel listened as Vestal Ridge explained she’d been digging in the closet for oil lamps. The lights had flickered a few times, she said. And oddly, at that moment, Laurel’s did the same. They went out, came on, went out and took longer to come on. “Vestal? I have Alan’s cell number. I’m not sure I’ll bother him at work, so if I haven’t spoken to him by the time you see him, please ask him to give me a call.”
“I will, Laurel. He phoned maybe ten minutes ago. He and Hardy will probably be here in the next hour or so to get something to eat. You girls have fun. I’ll pass on your message,” Vestal promised.
Growing uneasier by the minute, especially when Dog began to pace and whine, Laurel decided she would bother Alan at the distillery. She didn’t doubt for a second that his daughter was more important to him than anything, even his business.
“Your dad’s still working up at Windridge. I have his cell number programmed into mine. It’s in the bedroom in my purse. Will you keep Dog occupied until I get through talking to him, Louemma?”
“Okay. Tell Daddy I’m sorry I cried so hard I made Nana say I could come when he said I hadda stay home.”
“Honey, I’m sure he won’t be mad at you. Neither Vestal or Birdie had any way of knowing this storm would get so bad.”
Rushing, while trying to appear calm, Laurel fled to find her purse. She hadn’t used the speed dial feature lately. A million times she’d told herself to dump Alan’s number. As her hands shook, she was glad she hadn’t. The wind sounded much louder in here, Laurel realized as she waited for the number to dial automatically. But nothing happened. She held her phone under the bedside lamp and discovered she had no service. Weird. There was a cell tower on Bell Hill. The man who’d sold her the phone plan had said so, and Laurel recalled having seen it both times she’d ridden up there.
Alan’s phone numbers were on a paper he’d tucked beneath her bedside phone when their relationship was on a more intimate footing. She started to dial his number, but halfway through received the same message. No service.
Frustrated, Laurel realized she had no option but to fall back on her own resources. Returning to where she’d left the girl, she developed a plan B.
“Louemma, I can’t reach your dad, so I’ve decided to drive you home myself. You haven’t even unpacked. Let me bank the fire, then I’ll get your suitcase and we’ll go.”
“Can’t we just stay here?” Louemma begged, her face stark white. “I don’t like to go anywhere in a car in bad weather.”
Laurel knew the story of the girl’s accident. Her mom had gone out driving in a snowstorm, and her car had hit a patch of ice. “Sweetie, I feel strongly about getting you home where you’re safe, sound and in your dad’s care. I promise to drive very carefully.”
Dog paced to the door and back. Laurel made sure the fire in the fireplace wouldn’t get out of control while she was gone. Her worry mounted because the shepherd was pawing at the door and whining almost constantly now.
“See?” Laurel said, grabbing Louemma’s jacket and her own heavy wool cape. “Dog’s telling us that leaving is the right thing to do.”
Louemma, clearly still not convinced, stayed close to the shepherd’s side. She let Laurel hustle them both onto the porch. They’d descended the first two rain-slick steps when a horrendous crack of thunder, followed by a jagged fork of lightning, terrified them both. The girl began to sob violently and balked at moving another step. Laurel’s heart leaped straight into her throat. Two other things occurred, one right after the other, that added to her fears. First the lights went out—everywhere. The house lights and the perimeter floodlamps that lit the way to the footbridge. And then…she couldn’t see the footbridge.
God, where was it? A second bolt of lightning danced along a frothing creek, which had been rising less than an hour ago, but had now turned into a raging monster. The glimpse she got showed mud and debris from the construction site up the mountain being tossed into her yard and into the clearing where her pickup sat.
Laurel became aware of another danger. In the corral, her horses screamed above the roaring wind. One of them, probably the gelding, banged at the gate. A rumble farther up the hill sounded ominous, as if trees were being uprooted. Was that possible?
At first Laurel thought they should go back inside, where at least they’d be protected from the elements. Strong, gusting wind and raindrops pelted them with increasing force. Yet the tension lodged in her stomach sent an unmistakable warning. The cries of her childhood had honed certain instincts Laurel had learned to heed. Those instincts prodded her now. They told her that for safety’s sake, she and Louemma needed to flee. Flee at once.
“Louemma,” she said in as normal a voice as she could muster, “I want you to stand right here with Dog. I’m going back inside the cottage for a flashlight and my cell phone. I wa
nt to try contacting your dad once again.”
“But how can he come get me, or how can you take me home?” Louemma asked shakily. “The bridge is gone, and the creek’s so wide. My tutor told me all about floods. She said Kentucky has them.”
“Listen to me, sweetie. The worst thing anyone can do in a bad situation is panic. The calmer we stay, the better off we’ll be. We have Dog and we have each other.”
“But…but…you’re going to leave me and Dog here.”
“Only for a minute. Please, Louemma. I need you to cooperate.”
Although the girl was as pale as death, she clamped her teeth over her bottom lip and bobbed her head up and down.
Inside, Laurel quickly scooped up the big flashlight she always kept beside her bed, and a smaller one from her bureau drawer. Praying the batteries in both would last, she dug her wallet and cell phone from among the contents of her purse, which she dumped out on the bed. Her fingers could hardly grip the phone. She turned it on, but it was as dead as could be. Dashing into the living room, she decided to try Alan’s home on the wall phone. She hated to worry Vestal, but on the other hand, if she was hiking downstream with Louemma, she needed to let someone know, someone who could tell Alan her plans.
But now she wasn’t getting even a dial tone. Feeling starkly alone in a topsy-turvy world, and perhaps more frightened than she’d ever been—which was saying a lot, because as a kid fright had been a perpetual state for her—Laurel abandoned the dead phone. Any bad storm could knock out electricity and phone lines, she told herself. The cell tower had appeared to be a sturdy bulwark of steel set in solid concrete. The absence of that signal concerned her more.
She ran down her list of choices; they seemed pathetically few. None would be easy, and none would meet favorably with her young charge. Of that Laurel was certain.
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