“Viv, have you been paying attention? There's a hurricane coming! Get home now! Quit worrying about the things in that store of yours. They're only things. Your family is waiting for you.”
He came back to the table and looked around sheepishly. He must have realized we could all hear his raised voice. He spoke to Evie and Heath.
“I don't know where in the world your mother is. She knows better than to be out in this weather. I'm starting to get worried.”
Evie spoke soothingly. “Daddy, I'm sure she knows what she's doing. It isn't as if she's never been in a hurricane before. She isn't going to do anything stupid.”
Heath nodded. “Don't worry, Dad. She probably forgot to turn her phone on. Or maybe she forgot to charge it. I'll bet she's on her way home now.”
I hated for Heath to leave after we finished dinner. He gave Lucy a big hug and then held me in his strong arms before he went back to the carriage house.
“Stay safe,” he said, his lips against my hair. “I'll see you sometime tomorrow.” He kissed me good night, and I knew I would be a nervous wreck after he left.
The rest of us went our separate ways after dinner. It wasn't long before the wind started groaning around the house and the rain began slashing against the windows, and each of us gradually made our way to the drawing room, where we could be together. Vivian still wasn't home yet. Graydon had a portable radio with him and he kept an ear to the weather all the time. Every time there was a noise outside, he would jump up and walk to the front door, peering outside into the storm. And every time, he would return to the drawing room and announce, “That wasn't her.” For all they seemed to get on each other's nerves, Graydon was clearly worried about his wife's absence.
As time dragged on, the storm worsened. The wind shrieked outside, slamming into the house with tremendous force. It was amazing to me that the manor didn't buckle under its strength. As Graydon explained, many people think a hurricane is a big thunderstorm, but it's really the wind that does such a massive amount of damage. The rain was relentless, but it was the keening sound of the wind that I knew I wouldn't be able to forget. The house shuddered each time a gust roared past, and I could tell Lucy was afraid. She buried her head in my lap and I stroked her forehead as I tried to get her to relax and perhaps even to sleep.
From somewhere in the house came a thunderous crash and the sound of breaking glass.
“Broken window. Must have blown the shutter off,” Graydon mumbled. “She can't be out in this.” He got up and walked out of the drawing room. Evie followed him and turned to the rest of us saying, “He's going upstairs. He'll find out what the noise was.” She yelled to him, “Daddy, do you want some help?”
“No,” came the reply from upstairs. “Just stay where you are.”
He returned several minutes later, his hair disheveled and shirtsleeves rolled up.
“One of Ruby's shutters blew off and the glass in one of her windows broke. I tried to stuff it with a sheet. We'll get the window fixed as soon as we can once the storm is over, Ruby.”
“Thanks, Graydon,” she said gratefully.
She and Phyllis had been playing a card game by lamplight. As the game finished, there was a noise from outside that was different from the screaming wind to which we were quickly becoming accustomed. It was more of a crashing sound, accompanied by the raw crunch of crumpling metal.
Phyllis was the first to reach the window, followed closely by Graydon.
“It's Vivian!” Graydon announced grimly. “What is she doing out there?”
He ran to the front door and yanked it open. A tremendous gust of wind knocked him right off his feet as he stepped out into the howling hurricane. Phyllis, who was right behind him, knelt down and tried to help him up. He was on his hands and knees, cursing, when Evie rushed up behind him in the doorway.
“Daddy, are you hurt? Let me see!” Evie took her father's arm and helped him stand up. They turned and went into the house, Graydon protesting that he needed to help Vivian.
Phyllis looked up at the figure lurching across the front lawn of Peppernell Manor.
It was Vivian. She was obviously trying to make her way to the front door while carrying a very large, bulky box. She stumbled and sprawled onto the ground.
Phyllis ran out into the wind and rain and bent down over Vivian's prostrate body. She tugged at Vivian's arm and helped her to stand up. Lucy and I watched the scene from inside the doorway. As Phyllis began leading her back into the manor, Vivian began to gesticulate wildly, yelling something, but I couldn't hear her words over the roar of the wind. Phyllis evidently understood what Vivian was trying to say, because she turned around. I could see her gesturing to Vivian and they both returned to the manor, heads bent, slowly making their way through the storm to the front door. The wind was blowing so hard that they were both clearly having trouble staying upright.
When they finally reached the door, Vivian saw me and reached for my arm. “I dropped the box with some of the paintings for the front hall!” she gasped.
I looked at her, mouth agape. “Vivian, what were you thinking? Who cares about the paintings?”
“We have to go back out there and get them! They'll be ruined!” she insisted.
Phyllis was listening and turned around, her hair bedraggled and water dripping from the tips of her fingers. “I'll get them,” she stated quietly.
Vivian stared at her, eyes wide. “Would you, Phyllis?”
Phyllis nodded and headed back out into the wind and rain. With a slight limp, Graydon charged into the front hall in a rage.
“What were you doing?” he demanded. There was a loose bandage over one eye and he was holding his right arm close to his side, as if it pained him to move it.
“Graydon, just listen. You know those paintings that Carleigh and I planned to hang in the front hall. I had to bring them home with me to protect them from the hurricane.”
“That was the stupidest thing you've ever done!” he bellowed. “And now you've probably wrecked your car, too! Was that the crunching sound we heard?”
“Graydon, I simply refuse to discuss it with you until you've calmed down. Yes, my car was the crunching sound you heard. And Phyllis is out there right now retrieving the box with the paintings.”
“You've got to be kidding!” Graydon yelled. “How can you send someone outside in a hurricane?!”
“She volunteered,” Vivian said quietly.
I stood at the front door, waiting for Phyllis as she struggled to the door with the large box that Vivian had dropped. I wanted to help her, but Lucy was clinging to me and whimpering, terrified that I would leave her to go out into the storm. I could see Graydon and Vivian out of the corner of my eye.
Graydon was looking into Vivian's eyes. “Thank God you're all right,” he told her. She smiled at him. “But you shouldn't have sent Phyllis out into the storm. She deserves better than that from you.”
“I'll apologize, Graydon,” said Vivian with a pout.
“That's my girl,” he said. They joined me in peering out into the storm. Phyllis was lugging the box of paintings up to the front of the house. I ran out to help her and together we got the box up the stairs. She pulled and I pushed it through the front door.
“There's your box,” she told Vivian.
“Thank you, Phyllis,” Vivian replied. She glanced at Graydon. “I'm sorry I let you go out into the storm.”
Phyllis nodded her head in acknowledgment.
Vivian continued. “And thank you for coming to my rescue out there.” She looked at her feet. Vivian, who was usually so poised and confident, was clearly not used to apologizing.
“You're welcome,” Phyllis stated.
I turned to Phyllis. “Let's get you out of those wet clothes and into a bathrobe,” I told her briskly. “You go change and I'll make you something hot to drink.” She looked at me gratefully. Lucy trotted behind me into the kitchen and watched while I made Phyllis and Vivian cups of hot sweet tea.
Hot sweet tea during a hurricane . . . I was getting to be a real Southerner.
I set up a tray with the tea and a plate of benne wafers and knocked on Phyllis's door, Lucy still following me silently.
“Come in.” She sat in her living room in a bathrobe and slippers.
“You okay, Phyllis?”
“I am now. Thank you for bringing me tea. That's some storm out there.”
“With the exception of Ruby's shutter and window, the house seems to be making it through the hurricane just fine.”
She settled into her armchair. “This house has been through plenty of hurricanes. Sarah told me about the Great Hurricane of 1893. It made landfall in Savannah, Georgia, and devastated the coast from Georgia to New York.”
“It sounds awful.”
“That's what Sarah said. But you know what? This manor house has survived them all. And you know why? Because slaves built it, that's why. They were craftsmen. They took pride in the work they did. They were good at what they did. Their work has stood for almost two hundred years, through hurricanes and storms and climate and weather, and it's still standing because they knew what they were doing.”
“I never thought about it that way, Phyllis. You're right. They must have been amazing craftsmen.”
“And they built those cabins, too. The only reason the cabins don't look so good now is that they weren't allowed to use the high-quality materials on their homes that they used for the great house.” She shook her head in disgust.
“It's amazing that they're standing at all, then. What a testament to their work.”
“Unfortunately not everyone sees it that way.”
“Maybe we can get them to, Phyllis, if you'll think a little more about my suggestion to restore them. Graydon thinks it's a good idea, and we would do it respectfully.”
She stared into space for a full minute, then answered me.
“Maybe. Just maybe. I suppose the family will go ahead and do what they want whether I like the idea or not, so it would be nice if someone could do the work like it deserves to be done, to honor those people who built the cabins.”
“I would do that, Phyllis. I promise.”
She smiled at me. “Do you think maybe I could help you?”
“I wouldn't want to do it without your help,” I told her.
“Then let's give it a try.”
I beamed at her. “That's wonderful! Everyone will be so happy to hear that you've given the project your blessing!”
“You go back to the manor now and ride out the rest of this storm in the drawing room with the rest of the family. I'll be fine here.”
“By yourself?”
She smiled again. “I won't be by myself. Sarah's here with me.”
In spite of myself, I turned around to look behind me. As I had known, I couldn't see anyone standing there, but apparently Phyllis could. “Okay. But come and join us if you want to,” I remarked as Lucy and I left.
“Who's Sarah?” my little one asked as we made our way back to the drawing room.
CHAPTER 18
W
e all camped together in the drawing room that night. Evie and I went down to the basement and brought up several air mattresses, sheets, and blankets that had been in the storage room containing the emergency supplies. Everyone shared a big pot of “hurricane stew” that Phyllis had left in the kitchen. It was delicious mix of tomatoes, zucchini, sausage, onions, and carrots. Even Lucy liked it, and she wasn't usually fond of any red food except pizza.
It took Lucy quite a while to fall asleep because of the noise from the wind, the excitement of having a sleepover with the entire household in the drawing room, and the lamp that we left burning dimly in the corner. But eventually her breathing became deep and regular and I knew she was sleeping soundly.
It was almost midnight when the power went out. I was still awake, listening to the crashing and shrieking of the wind outside. I didn't know if anyone else was lying awake, but when the lamp went out suddenly several voices started whispering at once.
“Daddy, are you awake? The power's out,” Evie said. She didn't even sound tired.
“I know,” came his reply.
“Hush, both of you,” cautioned Vivian. “You'll wake Lucy.”
“Should we get the candles?” asked Ruby.
“Nah,” answered Graydon. “As long as it's the middle of the night, let's just try to get some sleep. We'll get the candles tomorrow when the storm is over. If it ever ends.”
As if in response, the wind outside roared around the house, slamming rain into the windows. I shuddered. The emergency radio bleeped on, warning us of possible tornado conditions nearby.
That
really scared me. I lay next to Lucy, stiff as a board, wishing I could be sleeping as peacefully as she was. Evie stood up and went to the front door. I watched her from my mattress through the doorway of the drawing room. She opened the door and looked out; the noise from the wind reached a deafening pitch with the door open. With an effort, she closed the door again and came back into the drawing room.
“The sky doesn't look any different and I don't hear a tornado,” she whispered. “Not yet, at least.”
Having lived in the Midwest, I knew all about tornadoes. They touched down often in Illinois, but I had never experienced one in Chicago.
“Is it common to have a tornado during a hurricane?”
“No, but it's happened before,” Evie answered.
I don't know how I ever got to sleep, but eventually I drifted off into a fitful rest.
There must have been a lull in the wind for a brief moment in the middle of the night. That's when I heard the blood-curdling scream that jolted me to my feet.
Evie and Graydon heard it, too. The others remained asleep.
We all raced to the front door and stared out into the storm. We couldn't see anything but the slashing rain and the trees near the house, nearly bent over to the ground from the force of the wind.
Another lull, and we heard it again. It seemed to be coming from behind the manor. Graydon grabbed a raincoat from a hook near the rear door of the manor and turned to us.
“I have to see what's making that noise.”
“Daddy, you can't go out there! You're limping and your arm is all bandaged, and your eye is hurt, too!”
He looked at Evie grimly. “I can't just ignore that screaming.”
There was a tremendous banging at the front door. I hurried to yank it open and Heath stood there, soaking wet.
“What's going on? Were you screaming?” I asked.
“No. But I heard it, too. I went out to see what it was and I didn't find anything.” He looked at Graydon's bandages in surprise.
“What happened to you?”
“Never mind. Where's the noise coming from?”
“The pond outside Phyllis's apartment.”
“Let's go.”
Before Heath could say anything, Graydon had opened the rear door and was headed out into the storm, his body bent to shield his face from the wind. Heath hurried after him.
I could barely see Heath and Graydon as they made their way slowly to the pond. Suddenly Heath bent down and reached for a dark form lying on the ground. He must have called for Graydon, who turned back and knelt down. Together, the two men started pulling the form toward the house. Addie had somehow gotten out of the carriage house and was jumping back and forth between them.
I couldn't stand watching anymore. I ran out into the storm, telling Evie to keep an eye on Lucy. “Heath?!” I cried, lurching toward the dark figures.
“Stay back, Carleigh!” came his voice through the storm's din. I ignored his warning and kept going toward the men. The rain stung as the wind blasted it into my skin.
I stopped short when I heard Heath yell. “Carleigh, go back and call an ambulance! This guy needs help!”
I didn't even stop to ask who the person was or why he needed help. I turned on my heel and ran back into the house.
I burst through the door; and it wasn't long before Evie was at my side as I held the house phone to my ear. She held a flashlight.
“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” asked a woman's voice.
“I don't know! There's someone hurt outside, but I don't know who or how,” I answered breathlessly.
I told her where I was located. Her voice came back on the line.
“I don't think we can get anyone out there right now because of the storm. Can you describe the injuries to me? I'll tell you what to do to keep the patient stable until help can arrive.”
“Yes.” I stayed on the line while we all waited for Heath and Graydon to pull the stranger to the safety of the house.
I turned to Evie. “Where's Lucy?”
“She's still asleep. Can you believe it? I'll go back in the drawing room and stay with her. I just heard you come in and I needed to know what's going on.”
Vivian and Ruby appeared in the kitchen. “What's wrong?”
Evie turned around. “I don't know. There was screaming outside. Daddy and Heath are out there and they're bringing someone back inside. The person is hurt.”
I looked outside again, the phone still clutched in my hand. Heath and Graydon were still tugging on the stranger's arms, making slow progress toward the manor.
I had to help them. I spoke quickly into the phone.
“I'll be right back.”
“Okay,” came the dispatcher's calm voice.
I ran out again into the fierce storm. “Come on, buddy!” Heath was yelling above the wind. “Try to push yourself along a little. Carleigh, take Addie into the house, will you?” Graydon tried to put his arms around the man's torso to help Heath pull. The man seemed to be having trouble using his legs. I focused the flashlight's beam on the ground behind Heath and Graydon so they wouldn't trip.
I called to Addie, though I doubted she would leave Heath and Graydon with the man. To my surprise, she made her way over to me, checking behind her every couple seconds to see if Heath was all right. I grabbed her collar and made her stay next to me.
I moved the flashlight beam a little by mistake when I grabbed the dog and saw a dark substance covering the man's legs. Blood.
“Heath, what happened?” I yelled.
“Alligator!”
I froze. Vivian was standing behind me and heard Heath.
“An alligator!” she exclaimed, wringing her hands. “What are we going to do? We won't be able to set foot outside!”
The man being dragged appeared to be drifting in and out of consciousness, but it was still too dark to tell for sure. Graydon and Heath pulled him up toward the back of the manor as I ran inside with Addie.
Leaving Addie, I returned to the scene as Heath and Graydon were finally able to drag the stranger into the kitchen and turn him onto his back.