The bathroom door opened, and she stepped out, motioning for him to join her. “Over here. We’ll be safe in here.” Her wide eyes told him she wasn’t as confident as she tried to sound.
“We have to go downstairs.” He ran across the room to her side.
“No! Chance, I can’t.” The blood drained from her face, and she backed away. “You know I can’t.”
“We have to.” He stuffed the flashlight in his pocket and grabbed her arm, dragging her out of the bathroom and toward the double doors of the storeroom. “It’s the safest place.”
“No, I can’t go down there.” She pulled against his grip and tried to jerk free. When that didn’t work, she pounded on his chest with her free hand. “Let go!” Her voice grew shriller with each word. “Don’t take me down there. Please, don’t take me down there,” she sobbed.
Chance stopped, glanced outside at the growing darkness and pounding hail. Gathering her in his arms, he held her close. “Shhh, darlin’. It will be all right. I’ll be with you. I won’t leave you down there.”
She raised her head, tears pouring down her face, and pleaded, “Please, Chance, I can’t.”
Cupping her face with his hands, he gently searched her eyes. “You have to, Emily Rose. I won’t risk losing you like this. Do this for me, please. I’m with you. I’ll stay with you.” He pulled the suddenly pathetically small flashlight from his pocket. “And I brought a light.”
A loud roar sounded above the hammering of the hail.
“Emily, we have to go now.”
Her nod was barely a movement, but it gave him permission to shove the flashlight into her hands and scoop her up in his arms. Somehow, she managed to flip the light switch on the wall as he ran down the stairs. When they reached the basement, the light from two puny bulbs softly illuminated the large space.
“Guess I need to replace some lightbulbs.” He tried to keep his voice casual, but that was hard to do when he was terrified. Trembling, she clung to him, burying her face against his neck. When he reached the center of the large room, he eased her down to the floor beside a sturdy pillar. He sat down next to her and lifted her onto his lap, holding her close.
“See, it’s not so bad.”
“Not so bad,” she repeated in a tiny, almost childlike voice.
Lord, have I done something terrible by making her come down here? His hand shook when he brushed her hair back out of her face. “You doin’ all right, sweetheart?”
“Uh-huh,” she whispered, the fingers of one hand digging into his shoulder. He was certain she didn’t realize she was close to drawing blood with her fingernails. But he didn’t mention it.
The lights flickered. Gasping, she buried her face even harder against him. He pried the flashlight from her hand and turned it on. A second later, the overhead lights went out.
“Chance . . .” He’d never heard a whispered wail before. His heart lodged in his throat. Lord, please help her. Calm her fears. Free her from this living nightmare.
“It’s all right, Emily. I put fresh batteries in the flashlight just last week. And I haven’t used it,” he added quickly. “So it will last long enough.” He set the flashlight on the floor, pointing the beam of light upward.
“What if the building collapses on us?”
“I don’t think it will. They built these old ones to last. The windows are the biggest concern. Some bricks might fall and land upstairs, but I honestly don’t think the whole wall would come down.” He was worried about the roof, but he wasn’t going to mention it. The way it was made, it would require a big tornado to rip it off.
“Those poor people in the trailers.”
His Emily had such a compassionate heart. “Let’s pray for them.”
She nodded.
“Father God, we ask you to keep everyone safe, especially all those families in the trailers.” Mobile homes rarely survived a tornado if they were hit. “Please, Lord, protect the people from harm and our town from more destruction. Show us your mercy, Father.”
Emily shifted her head and whispered, “Amen.” Her voice was no longer muffled, and he didn’t feel her hot breath against his throat anymore, but she hardly moved otherwise.
Chance listened to the noise above them. He hadn’t heard the crash of breaking glass or the thud of falling bricks. “I think maybe the hail has stopped. The roar isn’t as loud, either.”
“The siren quit.”
“It only blasts for five minutes.”
“It was constant during the fire.”
“True. But the standard here for tornados is five minutes. It’s repeated again every ten minutes unless the danger is past.” He checked his watch. “We’ll give it twenty. If it doesn’t go off again, we’ll take a peek and see what’s going on.”
“Gonna be a long twenty minutes,” she mumbled. But she wasn’t shaking so badly.
“We could always pass the time smooching, as Jinx would say.” He was only half kidding. It might be a good way to distract her.
“No smooching.”
“Killjoy.”
“Tough.”
“Are your eyes open?” He shifted his back against the support pillar. The floor was getting hard.
“Yes.”
“Are you looking around?”
“It’s dark.”
“Not right here.” He smiled, thinking it had been a dumb question. How could he even smile when things above ground might be blown to smithereens? “I was wondering what you thought of this space. Will it be useful for the museum?”
He figured she knew he was just filling in the time. She eased her death grip on his shoulder and slowly raised her head. He almost shouted hallelujah.
Looking down, she said, “It has a concrete floor. I thought it would be dirt.”
“A couple of the earliest buildings in town have dirt cellars, so that’s what I expected too. Builders were using concrete even then. However, they weren’t building many structures with real basements in this part of the country.”
She leaned back slightly and touched the floor with her hand. “It doesn’t feel damp. But they’ll have to monitor it for a while before they put anything down here.”
They, not we.
Chance’s hope dipped another notch. “It’d be tricky getting anything big up and down the stairs. They were built to handle whiskey barrels, but nothing bigger.”
She laid her head back on his shoulder, curling her hands against his chest. “I think I’ll take a nap.”
Like she had done when she was a child. “I’ll just sit here and be quiet.” And pray. For the safety of his family and folks in the area. He couldn’t even call the ranch. He knew from the past that his cell phone didn’t work down in the basement. He prayed for her emotional healing, and for himself. It was going to hurt awful bad when she said adios and trotted off to Dallas, San Antonio, or Timbuktu.
Five minutes later she asked, “Has it been twenty minutes yet?”
“Almost ten.”
“Told you it was gonna be long.”
“We could walk around down here. It would give you an idea of how big it is.”
“In the dark? No thanks.”
Chance shifted again. She was right. It was going to be a long twenty minutes. So he gave up at fifteen. It sounded as if the storm had passed by. He really wanted to see what had happened. And get up off that hard, cold, concrete floor.
“I think it’s been long enough. Let’s go see how things are.”
She picked up the flashlight and scrambled to her feet. Thankfully, she waited for him, or he might have been feeling his way around in total blackness. When they reached the stairs, they walked up together.
The storeroom wall was still intact, and the door was still open. “So far, so good.”
They walked into the main room on that side. Everything looked fine. It was raining, but the sky had lightened considerably. Relief swept through him. “It missed us.”
“But what about the rest of the town? Or your fam
ily?” She looked at him with worried eyes.
“Let me check on the family, then we’ll go see.” He took his cell phone out of the case attached to his belt. There were three missed calls from his parents, one from Will, and one from Jenna. He called his folks, clicking on the speakerphone so Emily could be part of the conversation too.
His dad answered on the first ring. “About time you checked in, son. Are you and Emily all right?”
Chance smiled at his dad’s assumption that he was with Emily. “Yes, sir. How about y’all?”
“We’re fine. Had some quarter-sized hail, but it didn’t last long. It looked mighty bad toward town. I spotted a funnel cloud dip down between here and there, but it looked like it went back up in the cloud without touching down.”
“The warning sirens went off right when I got to the museum. Emily and I hid in the basement. I couldn’t call you because my phone doesn’t work down there. Before we went downstairs, I didn’t see anything but green sky. It sure sounded like a tornado, but I don’t see any damage from one so far. There’s some hail damage to vehicles, and a couple of store windows across the street were knocked out. From what I can see, the museum weathered the storm just fine. We’re going to scout things out. I’ll call if there’s a problem. Will you let Jenna and Will know we’re okay?”
“They know. They’re here with us now. I put you on speaker once I knew y’all were okay. They all came over when it started looking bad in case we needed to go to the storm cellar. I’d forgotten that building of yours had a basement. Good thinking.”
“I figured it was the safest place in town to be.” He glanced at Emily. She frowned, then nodded in agreement. “I’ll call you with an update in a bit.”
The instant he hung up, Emily grabbed her purse and headed for the door. “That’s a relief.”
“Yes, it is. I wasn’t too worried because Dad is cautious about storms. He orders everybody into the storm cellar if things look dangerous.” When she shivered, he laid his hand on her shoulder. “It’s big, has electric lights and battery operated ones, and the exterminator comes out regularly. Not a bug or spider in sight. When we were kids, they used to keep a cot down there, so we could just curl up and go to sleep. Though I don’t think we ever did. We were always too excited to sleep.”
He cupped her chin and gently lifted her face so she would look at him. “How are you?”
“I still don’t think I could go into the basement, or especially a storm cellar, alone. But I might be able to handle it if I’m with somebody else.” She surprised him by throwing her arms around him and hugging him tight, although her big purse smacked him in the back. “Thank you.”
He held her close and brushed a kiss across her forehead. “I don’t want to lose you, Emily.” When she pulled back and looked up at him with a worried frown, he decided he’d better lighten up. She clearly wasn’t ready to hear what was in his heart. “If I let you get picked up by a tornado, it would just plain ruin my day.”
She smiled, lowered her hands, and edged away. “It’d ruin mine too.”
When they went out, she took the keys from her purse and locked the door. The rain had slacked off until it wasn’t much more than a drizzle. She pointed to several small dents in his pickup and checked her van. It had suffered the same damage on the hood and roof. “It’s not as bad as I’d anticipated.”
Chance opened the pickup door for her. “Nothing that can’t be fixed.” He helped her into the truck and shut the door. The owner of the shoe repair shop across the street came out onto the sidewalk, examining the broken windows. “You okay?” Chance called.
“Fine. Not much damage except for the glass. How about y’all?”
“We’re good. I’m going to drive around and check on things.”
The older man waved and went back inside his shop.
Stopping for a minute to survey the street, Chance breathed a little easier. He prayed things were the same or better throughout town.
They drove up and down several streets but found no evidence of a tornado. A few people, including Jinx, walked out and stopped them to ask what they’d seen.
“Nothing but some hail damage,” Chance said. “Did you see a twister? We were in the museum and stayed away from the windows. But it sure sounded like a tornado.”
Jinx slid his thumbs under the straps of his overalls. “Spotted a funnel cloud right over the gin. Or where the gin used to be. Don’t know if it ever touched down. I dove in the bathtub right after I saw it.”
“It looked all right when we drove by. We’ll go on up toward the north side of town and check out that area.” Chance shifted from park into drive.
“Let us know if anybody needs help.” Jinx waved at Emily and backed away from the truck.
They drove around most of the town. Everyone they talked to said basically the same thing. They’d seen the funnel cloud, but it never touched the ground. The trailers had rocked in the straight-line wind but stayed fastened down.
When he turned back onto Main Street to take Emily to her car, they met Dalton coming the other way. There was no other traffic, so Chance stopped in the middle of the street. Dalton did the same.
Chance lowered his window. “Everything all right?”
“The Driscolls north of town lost the roof off their barn, but that’s the only report I’ve heard so far. The weather service said the storm is moving on toward the northeast. They don’t expect any more problems for us.”
“That’s good to hear. Talk to you later.”
Dalton nodded, smiled at Emily, and drove on down the street.
Chance pulled up in front of the museum, easing against the curb this time. “I’m going back to the office to put things away before I head home. I’m not sure I even locked the door. Are you ready to call it a day?”
“I just have to pack up the laptop and turn off the lights. I think I’ll go hang out with Jenna for a while. I need some Zach time.”
Chance laughed and caught her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “Good idea. I might crash your party.”
“Help yourself. That little guy has enough love to spread all the way around.”
So did she. She just didn’t know it yet.
18
“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Emily.” On Friday afternoon, Sylvia Hanson, director of the McGovern Museum, walked her to the elevator. A good sign that the interview had gone well. “We have a dozen more applicants to talk to, but you have an impressive resume. You’re equally impressive in person.”
“Thank you, Ms. Hanson. The McGovern is going to be a wonderful museum. I hope I have the opportunity to be a part of it.”
“I hope so too, but keep in mind that the final choice doesn’t rest with me alone. The top applications will also be reviewed by members of the board.”
“I understand. Thank you for your time, ma’am.”
“I’ll give you a call either way. We should have the list narrowed down by next week.”
Emily thanked her again and shook her hand. As the museum director walked away, Emily pressed the down elevator button. When the door opened, she stepped onto the empty elevator, selected the first floor, and waited sedately. The in-ebook. stant the door closed, she pumped her arm in the air. “Yes!” She danced around in a little circle, not easy in two-inch heels, and rejoiced at what undoubtedly had been the best interview of her career.
Emily had brought along a portfolio of her displays at the two small museums she’d set up. Ms. Hanson had raved about them and asked to keep the photos.
The director had also been interested in Callahan Crossing, how the people were doing and how bad things were. Some of it was normal curiosity about a tragedy, but it appeared that she sincerely cared.
She did, however, question why Emily was still in Callahan Crossing. A report on one of the Dallas TV stations indicated that the museum had been destroyed, and she assumed that Emily had gone back to San Antonio.
Emily explained about Chance dona
ting a building and Mrs. Simpson donating the Bradley-Tucker House and its contents. Ms. Hanson was delighted as only someone who loved history and museums could be. But she also sympathized with the losses in the original building, assuming that all the documents had been destroyed, if not by the fire, then by the water.
That was when Emily explained how they had saved the records and pictures. Afraid she might come across as bragging – or being nuts – she hadn’t planned on mentioning it. Judging by the moisture in Ms. Hanson’s eyes as she told the tale, it obviously earned her some points.
For some reason, that bothered Emily. She wanted to be evaluated for the job by her qualifications and experience. Not by some crazy thing she’d done on the spur of the moment.
When she reached the van, she got in, leaned her head against the headrest, and breathed a huge sigh of relief. She’d cleared the first hurdle. Excitement swept through her. She had to tell Chance.
Digging through her purse for her cell phone, she found it squished into a corner. When she punched in his number, her heart tripped along at a staccato beat. Was that because she was excited about the job or about talking to a certain handsome cowboy? One she had yet to see on a horse.
Chance always checked the caller ID. “Hi, darlin’.”
Oh, my. His voice sounded good. Warm and tender. Almost . . . loving. “Hi. Are you busy?”
“Nope. Just sitting here twiddling my thumbs and hoping you’d call. Is your interview over?”
“Yes. It went well. I think. She seemed pleased with my qualifications and portfolio. And she asked about Callahan Crossing. She thinks you’re absolutely wonderful to donate the building for the museum.”
“Don’t have anything else to do with it.”
She figured he was thinking “Whoop-de-doo.” Chance didn’t care whether or not he impressed people. She was the same way in some situations but obviously not when it came to a big job.
“I knew you’d knock her socks off. I’m proud of you, Em.”
She believed him, but she also detected a hint of sadness in his voice. “Thanks.”
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