The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek (17 page)

In the middle of the ceiling hung a bare lightbulb, which cast shadows in the corners. He and a few of the weather refugees stood around the walls, leaning against shelving or the appliances. Ouida and Yvonne had the chairs while the rest sat on rag rugs he’d tossed across the dirt floor. They all listened to the weather radio Adam had brought down. Gussie sat close to Adam’s feet with Janey in her lap.

“This hazardous weather warning is for Central Texas in Creek, San Pablo, Mason, Kimble, and Kerr Counties and moving northwest toward Llano, Burnet, Williamson, and Travis Counties tonight and early tomorrow.”

Not just Creek County but San Pablo, where Hector was. He should never have allowed him to go west with the forecast for bad weather. Yeah, like that made any sense. Any tornado was as likely to hit Butternut Creek as San Pablo. But if it hit here, Hector would be down in the storm cellar and safe. He trusted Gabe to watch out for Hector.

“Severe thunderstorms likely across most of the state of Texas. A weather front is approaching from the west, bringing showers and thunderstorms as it moves through.”

It would hit San Pablo first. The weather broadcast would report if Gabe and Hector had driven into a tornado. The thought almost made him want to turn the radio off.

He leaned forward and dropped his hand on Gussie’s shoulder, then gently touched Janey’s head as he straightened.

“Severe weather will be most probable in the central part of the state, roughly ten miles south of Mason and west of Fallen Oak in Fell County. Temperatures will create an unstable air mass, increasing the chances of heavy precipitation. Damaging winds, tornadoes, and large hail will all be possible.”

The adults started, then glanced at each other when the gale drove rain against the windows. Ouida held Carol more securely as if, with the protection of her body, the storm couldn’t injure her child. George stood by the weather radio holding Gretchen. Thank goodness all the children dozed, probably exhausted by being out so late.

Until the storm hit. Twenty minutes after they’d gathered, the winds had picked up more and swept around the house, battering it. Hail pounded against the windows and drowned out the radio. Not that they needed more information to know that gale-force winds had hit and that, perhaps, a tornado would follow. Downed branches hurled around by powerful winds struck the house, banging. It sounded as if someone were bombarding it with rocks or firing bullets toward the walls and windows.

The thunder and howling tumult startled the children awake. They all clung to whoever held them and sobbed in fear, even the two boys from across the street. Adam felt like doing the same. Oh, not clinging, but that hard sobbing would probably relieve a lot of tension.

Instead of crying, he began to sing. He didn’t know why. He wasn’t a singer by any means. And as for choice of a song? The only one that came to mind was a really old one, “The Battle of New Orleans.” The deacon and Gussie began to sing with him. Thank goodness, because he couldn’t carry the tune. Little by little, all the adults joined in and added whatever words they could think of, but for the most part they sang “We dum-de-de dum and we…” When they got to “We fired our guns…” all the adults knew the words. Fortunately, the kids were so distracted by their parents’ singing, the deacon’s rich bass, and Gussie’s lovely and loud voice, they calmed down as the sound covered much of the resounding chaos outside.

After the adults mumbled their way through a couple of verses, Janey said, “Sing something I know.”

“Maybe a prayer first, Brother Adam,” the deacon said. With a voice louder than the thunder he began, “For those who are out in this storm, dear Lord, we just pray for Your protection.” His gigantic voice drowned out the frightening sounds outside and calmed the fear inside. Afterward he said, “We just hope all your children find safe harbor. Amen.” Then he began to sing “Amazing Grace.”

A much better choice.

After eating, Gabe and Hector watched the weather reports on television. Weather forecasters with Doppler radar had replaced all regular programming on local channels.

“Could we watch some baseball?” Hector asked. “The Astros are playing out west tonight and I bet they’ll have a crawl about the weather.”

Gabe shook his head. “I have to make sure you’re okay. I want to know what’s headed toward us.” As he read that a tornado had been sighted in a town to the west, the siren blared outside. “Come on, Hector. Help me with this.” He stood, strode toward the bed, flung the covers off, and tugged on the mattress.

“What are you doing, man? Are we going to sleep on the floor?”

“Help me pull this into the bathroom.”

“We’re going to sleep on the bathroom floor?” He took the other end of the mattress and followed Gabe.

Once inside the bathroom, Gabe said, “Okay, get in the tub.”

“What…?”

“Don’t argue. Do what I say.”

Hector slid into the tub and Gabe flipped the mattress on top of him.

“Stay there until I come back.”

“Like I could move.”

Gabe ran out of the bathroom, headed for his room and tub. Outside, the wind slapped his face, rain soaked him, and hail battered against his back and arms. In the short distance between Hector’s door and his, the wind had increased to such a level that he had to grasp the door handle to steady himself enough to insert the key card. Once open, the door flew against the wall with a crash. He struggled to close it against the force, then ran toward the bathroom. Before he could reach it, something crashed through the big window facing the parking lot. Automatically, he looked toward the sound as glass exploded throughout the room.

By instinct, he closed his eyes and put his hands over them as he fell on the floor between the bed and the back wall. He hoped the narrow space provided enough cover, because he wasn’t about to stand up again to reach a safer place.

He lay on the carpet in the darkness and listened as the chaos outside increased. He’d heard that a tornado sounded like a train. It did, but louder, as if it were in the room with him, deafening and so powerful the room vibrated. The whooshing roar of the tornado, the crash of debris against the building, and the buffeting of the rain and hail and wind outside underscored how finite and vulnerable his body was against the force of the storm. Scared him to death.

He wished he could get at least part of himself under the bed, but it had a solid platform. Nothing to hold on to, nothing to slide under as he huddled there. He breathed a prayer more heartfelt than any he’d ever said before. “Dear God, please…please…,” he repeated, sure God would understand because his brain seemed incapable of deciding what, exactly, to ask for.

How was Hector? He should have stayed there. He could have huddled beside the bed in the other room as well as he did here. “God, please watch over Hector.” There, a real, solid prayer.

The noise and terror lasted forever. He shook and the bed shook and, he imagined, everything in town shook.

But it didn’t last forever. Felt like it, but it didn’t. After a period of time—hours, minutes, seconds, or years—the level of noise decreased. Although the rain still fell, it no longer hammered. He pressed the button on his watch that illuminated the dial. Didn’t help, because he hadn’t checked before the tornado had hit. Twenty seconds, probably.

Then he pulled himself to his knees and looked toward the window. The curtains still blew straight in but fluttered a bit. The sound of debris crashing into cars and windows had stopped. On the wall, a weak light came from the security system.

He slowly stood. Once on his feet, he rubbed his hands over his face. They came away wet, from the rain, he guessed, but sticky. When he wiped them on his jeans, glass embedded there scraped his hands. He shook his legs to get rid of whatever had accumulated on top of him. Then he walked slowly to the door, mentally checking his body for damage. He could walk fine. His hands were sticky. His face and back burned and his feet squished on carpet soaked from rain blown inside. Something—hail and glass, he guessed—crunched under his shoes.

He opened the door, took a step outside, and stood for a moment, in the pouring rain. He was alive. He lifted his hands and turned his face up to wash them off before he inspected the exterior damage. His truck had a broken window and probably more damage from the chunks of rubble that covered it. A couple of trees were blown down, and the roof on the other end of the motel had been torn off.

He’d always thought of nature as being a gentle breeze or the sound of a peaceful brook gurgling across rocks or a sunrise. Now he truly understood nature, both sides. He glanced up. On the top floor, parts of the roof had been peeled back and chunks of walls were missing, but this floor looked stable.

As other guests had begun to look out doors, he turned toward Hector’s room and was at the door before he realized he didn’t have a key. Fear for the kid’s safety hit him, but he attempted to push it aside. Hector was safe, he told himself, safe in the tub covered with a mattress.

Of course, he could also be covered by piles of debris from damage to the second floor.

Like the other windows he could see, those on Hector’s room had been smashed. He could climb inside, but jagged pieces of glass stuck up from the bottom sill. He should check with the office about a key—if the office still existed—before he climbed inside. He’d turned that way and had taken several steps in that direction when he saw the manager.

“Can you get me in here?” Gabe shouted. “I need to check on my friend.”

Without a word, the woman slipped a card in the lock and shoved the door open before she headed to the other rooms.

“Hector!” Gabe ran into the bathroom. “Hector.”

“I’m fine,” the kid shouted.

Before he attempted to move the mattress, Gabe tossed off several chunks of the ceiling that had landed on it. “Give me a little help.”

With that, they shoved the mattress aside. Hector stood, placed his hand on the towel rack, and stepped out. “That was wild, wasn’t it?” Then he looked at Gabe in the eerie light from the window and the faint light of the security system. “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean? We just survived a tornado.”

“You’re covered with blood.” Hector pointed. “On your face and your shirt.”

Gabe held his hands out. Now that he could see cuts on the back of his hand he realized why they’d felt sticky. Glass, the glass from the shattered window, had hit him, Gabe guessed. He hadn’t noticed, probably because of the adrenaline that had flowed through him and the sharpness of the shards.

“It’s nothing.” He pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call Adam. See what’s going on there, let him know we’re okay.” He let the phone ring but it went to voice mail so he left a message. “We’re okay.”

With that, he clicked off the phone and moved toward the parking lot, Hector behind him. “Let’s see how we can help.”

Adam could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket. He couldn’t answer because smiling, singing, and attempting to look relaxed and calm kept him busy enough. Besides, he didn’t think he could hear the person on the other end. He pulled it out to see Gabe’s number and grinned.

During the next song as the noise outside lessened, George turned around and waved. “All clear,” he said. They all shouted and clapped with relief. “Everyone can go back home. A weak tornado came down in San Pablo but missed us.”

With those words, he and the Miltons froze. Janey pulled away from Gussie and stood next to Adam, her hands over her mouth and eyes wide. “Is that where my brother is?” she asked.

Adam pulled out his phone and listened to the message. “They’re okay,” he told the group. He hit
REDIAL
and waited. When Gabe answered, he put the phone on speaker.

“We’re okay. Hector and I are fine,” Gabe said without waiting for a greeting or question. “But we’ve got a lot of destruction here. The town really needs help. They’ll need generators, water, clothes, medical help. You name it. They’ll need it.”

“I’ll call Sam. We’ll get there as soon as possible.”

“Meet you at the high school.”

Adam clicked off the call, then clicked the phone on again. Before he could hit Sam’s number, Gussie said, loudly and forcefully, “I want to get married.”

His gaze flew toward her, as did the eyes of everyone else in the storm cellar. “Right now?”

“I want to set the date.” She leaped to her feet, put her arms around Adam’s neck, and leaned against him.

“Yes. Of course,” he said because he desperately wanted to marry Gussie, tomorrow or sooner if possible.

“I know this is crazy but I thought…I was so afraid.” Gussie stepped to look directly at Adam. “I’ve been so wishy-washy but
now
I know what I really want. I love you. I want to get married. Soon.”

Henry stood. “Great idea. You and Adam discuss this. We’ll get Janey to bed.”

With that, most of the crowd hustled out except Gussie and Adam. Hannah stood with her arms folded, and George monitored the radio.

“I know this is crazy but as the wind whipped by, I was so scared.” Gussie’s voice was deeply emotional. “I thought,
Gussie, you’re an idiot to have put off marrying Adam for this long. It could be too late. We could all die
.”

Adam leaned forward to take Gussie’s hand but before he could, Hannah spoke.

“Okay,” she said. “Cut the lovey stuff. You can do that later. Now we need to move. They need doctors.” Hannah stepped in the narrow space between the two and faced Adam. She would have grabbed his arm to hurry him along, but Adam glared at her. Most unlike Hannah, she recognized the warning and moved to the right. “Okay.” Hannah sighed. “I’ll get packed while you guys waste time.” She stomped up the steps.

“June?” he suggested. “July? I’ll have to check on Hector’s schedule.”

“We’ve decided.” She nodded. “We’re getting married in the very near future. This summer.”

He nodded, then leaned down to kiss her.

“That’s a relief.” Henry came back down the stairs and picked up Janey’s blanket. “I was afraid Gussie’d be living with us in that little house forever. Not sure if we’d survive that much longer.” He headed back up the steps.