him. “I think Bo and baby don’t like loud noises.”
Dawn latched onto the nipple and filled the silence with her sucking noises.
Bo laid back down, nose on his paws, and watched Ben to see what they were to do next.
Everyone watched Ben.
He tipped his head back and blew out a heavy breath. “All right, if this is what it takes, so be it. Dawn will not be going into the social services system. Period. End of discussion. We’d probably never see her again, and I need my dog.”
Ansel nodded and turned to Esther. “Can we get enough diapers for two? Our store at home might be pretty wet by now.”
Esther heaved a sigh of relief to match Ben’s. “This will be good.” Please Lord, let it be so.
Chapter Eight
W e appreciate this, Ben.”
Ben nodded. They’d driven less than a mile and the destruction was beyond imagination. Roofless houses, collapsed garages, uprooted trees; were it not for the few remaining street signs, he’d hardly even know where they were. His tires whispered hoarsely through a heavy carpet of leaves, twigs, and branches.
“Someone said the west side of town was hit worst.”
Ben nodded again, carefully navigating his SUV around the top of a downed tree. Someone had moved it enough to clear the road. How could his house still be standing? But he saw it ahead, since so many trees were stripped or knocked down. Three old houses still standing in a line as if the wind had sheared around them, like some capricious child at play.
“Oh, my…” Ansel’s mouth hung open, his head shaking like a bobblehead figure.
Ben realized he was doing the same. The house his father had built those many years ago. He always said if you did it right, it would last; even he could not have predicted an anomaly like this. When he first moved back home Ben had buried the power lines from the street to the house, despite the long driveway. His father accused him of being mad. But if the entire town had buried the power lines, they might not be in the fix they were in. And if the entire town had chosen to push for the hospital, those who died in this might not have.
The rage that had been simmering ever since Allie was killed made him clench his teeth. His only panacea was now off limits. The fight made him churn, too, when it was time to sign Dawn out of the clinic, out of Esther’s immediate care. How in heaven’s name had she drawn that promise out of him, his word that he wouldn’t drink at all while he had the baby, lest it get away from him? It could drive a man to drink.
He glanced in the rearview mirror where Beth held Dawn in her arms. Her own baby lay sound asleep, and their two-year-old sat in her child’s seat, sucking her thumb. Perhaps that was what the grown-ups needed to do, too. He slowed and stopped in the street; a tree lay across his driveway. So close and yet so far.
“I think you can push through that.” Ansel leaned forward to peer through the rain-rivered windshield. “You want me to get out and see?” He reached for the door handle.
“No, stay put.” Ben shifted into four-wheel drive and eased forward. A branch scraped across the windshield, catching the wiper on the passenger side.
Bo whined from the back of the vehicle. He was not happy banished to behind the seats, but kept his nose on the seat next to Beth’s shoulder, as close to his baby as possible.
The engine growled, but the elm gave in and let itself be pushed off to the side, so it now lay more or less beside the drive. Had they needed to, they could have hiked to the house, but now they’d be able to better protect the babies from the elements.
“Thank you, God,” Beth murmured from the backseat.
If God had been protecting like He promised, Ben’s life would not be as desolate as the destruction. Nor would the town look like this. A memory flicked through, of Esther disappearing into who knew where. Looked like PTSD to him; he’d seen it too often to not recognize it. But what could have gone on in
Dawn latched onto the nipple and filled the silence with her sucking noises.
Bo laid back down, nose on his paws, and watched Ben to see what they were to do next.
Everyone watched Ben.
He tipped his head back and blew out a heavy breath. “All right, if this is what it takes, so be it. Dawn will not be going into the social services system. Period. End of discussion. We’d probably never see her again, and I need my dog.”
Ansel nodded and turned to Esther. “Can we get enough diapers for two? Our store at home might be pretty wet by now.”
Esther heaved a sigh of relief to match Ben’s. “This will be good.” Please Lord, let it be so.
Chapter Eight
W e appreciate this, Ben.”
Ben nodded. They’d driven less than a mile and the destruction was beyond imagination. Roofless houses, collapsed garages, uprooted trees; were it not for the few remaining street signs, he’d hardly even know where they were. His tires whispered hoarsely through a heavy carpet of leaves, twigs, and branches.
“Someone said the west side of town was hit worst.”
Ben nodded again, carefully navigating his SUV around the top of a downed tree. Someone had moved it enough to clear the road. How could his house still be standing? But he saw it ahead, since so many trees were stripped or knocked down. Three old houses still standing in a line as if the wind had sheared around them, like some capricious child at play.
“Oh, my…” Ansel’s mouth hung open, his head shaking like a bobblehead figure.
Ben realized he was doing the same. The house his father had built those many years ago. He always said if you did it right, it would last; even he could not have predicted an anomaly like this. When he first moved back home Ben had buried the power lines from the street to the house, despite the long driveway. His father accused him of being mad. But if the entire town had buried the power lines, they might not be in the fix they were in. And if the entire town had chosen to push for the hospital, those who died in this might not have.
The rage that had been simmering ever since Allie was killed made him clench his teeth. His only panacea was now off limits. The fight made him churn, too, when it was time to sign Dawn out of the clinic, out of Esther’s immediate care. How in heaven’s name had she drawn that promise out of him, his word that he wouldn’t drink at all while he had the baby, lest it get away from him? It could drive a man to drink.
He glanced in the rearview mirror where Beth held Dawn in her arms. Her own baby lay sound asleep, and their two-year-old sat in her child’s seat, sucking her thumb. Perhaps that was what the grown-ups needed to do, too. He slowed and stopped in the street; a tree lay across his driveway. So close and yet so far.
“I think you can push through that.” Ansel leaned forward to peer through the rain-rivered windshield. “You want me to get out and see?” He reached for the door handle.
“No, stay put.” Ben shifted into four-wheel drive and eased forward. A branch scraped across the windshield, catching the wiper on the passenger side.
Bo whined from the back of the vehicle. He was not happy banished to behind the seats, but kept his nose on the seat next to Beth’s shoulder, as close to his baby as possible.
The engine growled, but the elm gave in and let itself be pushed off to the side, so it now lay more or less beside the drive. Had they needed to, they could have hiked to the house, but now they’d be able to better protect the babies from the elements.
“Thank you, God,” Beth murmured from the backseat.
If God had been protecting like He promised, Ben’s life would not be as desolate as the destruction. Nor would the town look like this. A memory flicked through, of Esther disappearing into who knew where. Looked like PTSD to him; he’d seen it too often to not recognize it. But what could have gone on in
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