her mind images of the horrifying moments when she and the children had struggled to escape the maddened waters.
She couldn’t keep them from filling her nightmares, but she didn’t intend to let those memories taint her waking hours. If they did, she might get distracted and fail to discover Leland had found them until it was too late. She couldn’t take the chance he’d abduct Kevin and Rose Anne as he’d tried to before her sister died.
“And now everything is gone?” Michael asked, drawing her back from the abyss of her fears.
“Not everything.”
“What’s left?” he asked.
“Anything more than twenty-five feet above the brook survived, though several buildings were flooded a couple of feet into the first floor. The school, where we’re headed, is the closest building to the brook that wasn’t damaged at all.”
He looked along the road running east and west through the village. “You’re talking about more than five hundred feet away from the stream’s banks.”
“Uh-huh.” She’d started to say ja, but halted herself. “Look at the mountains. They make this valley into a funnel, and the water kept rising and rising. We lost two restaurants and three shops as well as parts of the town hall, the fire station, the library, the elementary school, a building supply store. Also some historic buildings like the old gristmill that used to sit next to the brook. And, of course, a lot of houses, including a couple that had been here from when the town was founded in 1750. Many of the records were saved from the town hall, and, thankfully, the local newspaper had stored its back issues from the nineteenth century in the library, because their building washed away.”
“What about the library books?” asked Benjamin. “Were the books saved?”
“A lot of them were lost. The cellar and first floor of the library were flooded, and many of the ones out on loan were washed away.”
The men exchanged glances, but she looked at Kevin and Rose Anne. She was glad they were talking to each other and paying no attention to the adults’ conversation. Her arms ached as she remembered holding them and trying to comfort them after their escape from the flood. They’d been upset about losing their home, but having the library flooded had distressed them even more. They’d loved going there and borrowing books or listening to one read aloud to them.
“Though the books have gone swimming,” Rose Anne, ever the diplomat, had said, as tears had welled in her eyes, “Jenna will tell us stories. She’s nice, and she has lots and lots of the goriest stories.”
Carolyn had translated Rose Anne’s mangling of the language as she did each time Rose Anne came up with a new “version” of a word. She’d guessed the little girl meant glorious rather than goriest, but she hadn’t wanted to take the time to ask. Instead, she’d offered the little girl what solace she could. However, after talking with her good friend Jenna Sommers, the village’s librarian and the foster mother of a six-year-old little girl whom Rose Anne adored, Carolyn knew it would be many months—maybe even a year or two—before the library was operational again. First, people needed homes, and the roads had to be repaired and made safe.
And the children needed to be kept safe, too. Her sister had won full custody of the two children in the wake of her separation from Leland. He’d fought to keep them. Not because he wanted them. They would have been in the way of his rough life of drinking and drugs. He’d fought because he hadn’t wanted his wife to have a single moment of joy. It hadn’t been enough he’d left Regina with bruises and broken bones each time he bothered to come home. At last, her sister had agreed to let Carolyn help her escape the abuse. Regina had been free of her abusive husband for almost three months before she became ill and died two days later from what the doktors had said was a vicious strain of pneumonia.
“Wow,” murmured one of the men behind her as they reached the main intersection where a concrete bridge’s pilings were lost in a jungle of debris and branches. “Is there another bridge into town?”
“Not now. There was a covered bridge.”
“Was it destroyed?” Michael asked.
“Half of it was except for a couple of deck boards. The other half’s wobbly. From what I’ve heard, engineers will come next week to see what, if anything, can be salvaged.”
“So the road we traveled in on the bus is the only way in or out?”
“For now.” She didn’t add it might be several months or longer before the lost and damaged bridges were repaired.
She led the men to higher ground. She listened as they spoke in hushed Deitsch about how difficult it would be to get supplies in for rebuilding. It was hard not to smile with relief while she listened to their practical suggestions. How splendid it was to have these down-to-earth men in Evergreen Corners! Instead of talking about paperwork and bureaucracy, they planned to get to work.
Hurrying up the street, Carolyn saw two of her chickens perched in a nearby tree. She was glad neither child noticed. Both were too busy asking the newcomers a barrage of questions.
The parking lot in front of the high school held news vans with their satellite dishes, so she cut across the lawn to avoid the curiosity of reporters looking for a few more stories before they headed to the next crisis. She nodded her thanks to Michael when he opened the door for her and the children but didn’t slow while she strode along the hall that should have been filled with teenagers.
The temporary town hall was in the school’s gym. She’d already heard grumbling from the students that the school had survived when so many other buildings hadn’t. By the end of next week when school was scheduled to restart, she guessed most of them would be glad to be done with the drudgery of digging in the mud and get back to their books. Kevin and Rose Anne were growing more restless each day, and only the hunt for their chickens kept them from whining about it.
Voices reached out past the gym’s open doors, and Carolyn said, “This is where volunteers are supposed to sign in. They’ll get you a place to stay and your assignments.” She flushed, realizing what she should have said from the beginning. “Thank you for coming to help us.”
“More volunteers?” A man wearing a loosened tie and a cheerful smile came out of the gym, carrying a clipboard. Tony Whittaker was the mayor’s husband. Asking their names, he pulled out a pen to check their names off. “Michael Miller, did you say?”
“Ja,” Michael replied.
Tony’s smile became more genuine. “I’m glad you and Carolyn have met already.”
“Really?” she inquired at the same time Michael asked, “Why?”
“You, Michael, have been assigned to the team building Carolyn and her children a new home.” He chuckled. “Hope you’ve made a good impression on each other, because you’re going to be spending a lot of time together for the next three months.”
Carolyn woke to the cramped space in what once had been—and would again be—stables. The barn, along a ridge overlooking the village, was owned by Merritt Aiken, who had moved to Evergreen Corners after retiring from some fancy job in California.
