Wake the Dawn by Lauraine Snelling Page B

her life to cause something like that? Far as he knew, she’d never been in the service.
    He let himself in the side garage door and pulled the red rope disconnecting the electric opener. He shoved mightily, raising the door by hand. Ansel had taken the driver’s seat. He pulled it in. Ben pulled the door down. They’d made it. “I’ll go open the doors and make sure…”
    “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.”