still coming down hard. Her brow furrowed, and she peered into the darkness, hoping for another bright burst so she could see better. When it did finally come, she could have sworn there was less water in the pond than before. How strange.
Puzzled, she watched the anomaly for a few more minutes, then pulled a light cotton robe over her nightgown and went downstairs to make sure her computer was disconnected in case of a lightning strike. There wasn’t much point in going back to bed while the storm raged. She’d never be able to sleep when the flashes were so bright she could see them through her closed eyelids!
Bree got herself a glass of milk and settled into a chair at the kitchen table. She noticed that her hands were trembling slightly. Undue concern during bad weather was a new phenomenon for her. There seemed to be something particularly disconcerting about the ferocity of Arkansas summer storms. Maybe it was the stories her part-time housekeeper, Emma, had told about that kind of weather spawning tornadoes. Or maybe it was simply the fact that Bree was alone in the enormous house with no one to talk to. Most of the time, that was exactly how she wanted it. Tonight, however, she almost wished it was time for Emma to drive out from Serenity and clean the place again.
Thunder rattled the windows. Bree winced. “Guess I’m not much of a country girl,” she murmured. “I’d sure like to ask somebody a few questions right about now.”
Mitch had pulled on his leather boots without lacing them, and they were totally soaked. Thanks to the blowing rain and stifling humidity, the rest of him wasn’t much drier.
Bud had obviously never had to rough it before. Consequently, their foray into the storm had taken far longer than Mitch had anticipated.
By the time he returned Bud to the cabin, Mitch was furious with Ryan. Pulling off his slicker, he glared at the boy. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know it was going to rain,” Ryan answered, acting subdued under his father’s ire. “It’s not my fault this place is a dump. It’s worse than going to camp. At least they had the bathrooms in the same building.”
“You went to camp?”
“Yeah. Once. Mom sent us. I didn’t like it much.”
“No doubt.” Mitch noticed that Ryan was fidgeting more than usual. Since the sound of running, dripping water had been serenading them for hours, he suspected the power of suggestion was getting to Ryan the same way it already had to Bud.
“You wouldn’t happen to have to use the bathroom, too, would you?” Mitch asked with a slow drawl.
“Me? Naw.”
“You sure? I could lend you my poncho. You wouldn’t get too wet.”
Ryan eyed him with obvious misgivings. “You mean you wouldn’t come with me?”
“Nope. One of us has to stay in here and watch your brother. If you go, that means I stay.” He could see the indecisiveness in his son’s face turn to stubborn resolve.
“Fine. Gimme the raincoat. I’m out of here.”
Mitch watched him don the man-size slicker and pick up the flashlight. The only thing that hinted at anxiety was a slight pause in Ryan’s stride as he opened the door and faced the storm. Then he slammed the door and was gone.
The kid has guts, Mitch told himself with pride. He hadn’t been nearly that brave when he was only eight. Of course, he hadn’t been compelled to care for a younger sibling, either. That responsibility had undoubtedly forced Ryan to grow up way before his time—which was a real shame. If possible, Mitch was going to teach the poor kid to enjoy being a child again.
Warmer thoughts of Ryan had just about blotted out the last of Mitch’s rancor when the door burst open and his son ran in, shouting, “Look out! It’s a flood!”
If it hadn’t been for the wild look in his son’s eyes, Mitch might have doubted his truthfulness. Instead, he joined him at the door and shined the flashlight on the yard to assess the situation for himself.
“It’s just runoff water,” Mitch assured the frightened boy. “Nothing to worry about.”
Ryan grabbed the light and pointed it toward the creek bed. “Oh, yeah? How about over there?”
“That’s just…” Reality struck, bringing Mitch’s heart to his throat and making his pulse race. He whispered, “Dear God.”
“You told me not to cuss.”
“That wasn’t a curse. See the debris in the water? Those are whole trees, not twigs. I didn’t know it was raining hard enough to do that.” He whirled. “Come on. We’re getting out of here. Follow me. I’ll get Bud.”
“Want your raincoat?” Ryan held it out.
“Forget it. I’d rather be wet than get caught by that water coming down the canyon.”
Mitch scooped up his youngest son and ran for the front door. Bud immediately started to bawl.
Racing toward the car, Mitch belatedly realized that Ryan wasn’t right behind him. He tossed Bud into the back seat and was about to return to the house for his other son when Ryan appeared, leaning into the wind and struggling to make headway through the pelting rain.
“Had to stop and get the bear,” the boy shouted.
Mitch was already standing in mud and water up to his ankles. Fortunately, Ryan was able to get the passenger door open without his help.
Sliding behind the wheel, Mitch leaned over and pulled Ryan into the car beside him, then started the motor while the boy struggled to shut the heavy door against the force of the gale.
“Where’s the dog? Who’s got the dog?” Mitch shouted over the combined furor of the storm and his upset children.
“I don’t know,” Ryan hollered back. “Want me to go see?”
“No. Stay right where you are. I’ll get him.”
The moment Mitch opened the driver’s door the soggy little dog jumped in, bounded across his feet and scrambled over the back of the front seat as if he’d always done it that way.
The boys cheered.
“Belt yourselves in!” Mitch ordered.
He put the car in reverse, praying the tires wouldn’t slip in the slimy mud and wishing he’d had enough foresight to bring his four-wheel-drive pickup truck instead of the cumbersome passenger car.
Gently, evenly, he pressed the accelerator. Every instinct screamed for him to gun the motor, to race onto the paved road as fast as he could. But he knew better than to try.
The rear wheels slipped, spun. Mitch eased up on the gas, and they finally caught. He prayed a silent thanks to his heavenly Father, then added a fervent, soul-deep plea for further help, just as he had every single day and night his sons had been missing. Nothing like a disaster to bring out the spiritual side of a man, was there? Well, at least something good had come out of that time of horrible worry and loneliness.
Mitch’s hands clenched the wheel.
The
