The Wedding Planners of Butternut Creek (18 page)

Adam turned to George. “Once we get packed up, I’m taking Hannah to San Pablo. Can we take that generator in your garage?”

At George’s nod, he and Gussie headed upstairs. When they got to the kitchen, Adam called Sam and asked him to pick up whatever they could pack at the thrift shop and carry it to San Pablo.

That completed, he turned to Yvonne. “Would you call Miss Birdie and get the Widows moving? Tell them what we need?”

Then he turned to see Hannah with her bulging duffel and a bag that looked like one of those black valises country doctors used to carry. Wisely, she didn’t say anything, only put down her luggage and stood, tapping a toe.

Adam’s first reaction was to tell her she couldn’t go. Oh, sure, that would work. Hannah was still weak and the toll of this emergency might cause her to relapse but he knew better than to suggest she stay here. She’d walk to San Pablo if she had to. Besides, he saw more focus and intense emotion than he had since she’d showed up. An emergency was exactly what Hannah needed to get her up and going again.

“Give me your keys.” George came upstairs and held out a hand. “I’ll load the generator in the back of your SUV. We have a pantry full of food and Ouida probably has some diapers stored away we won’t need for a while. I’ll put those in, too.”

Adam and Gussie followed George outside to look around. Not a lot of destruction here. A tree lay in the church parking lot and several limbs littered the lawn but Butternut Creek, at least this part, looked pretty good. Although rain still dripped from the trees, the storm had passed, headed east.

After arranging for the Miltons to stay and care for Janey, Gussie said, “I’m going to run home and pack a bag, get some of our food ready to go. Pick me up there.”

Adam went back in the house to see Hannah still standing by her duffel bag, nearly quivering with excitement and impatience.

“Sis, if you need something to do, look around the parsonage and see what you can find that people might need. Get those jugs of water from the basement. Do something useful while I get my stuff.”

“Okay,” Hannah said. “Henry, let’s bring up the water jugs from the basement.” She waved him toward the stairs. “I’ll check the shed in the back. Probably some tools there, maybe a shovel we could use.” She headed toward the yard. “Yvonne, put together some bags with emergency essentials in them.”

Even upstairs, Adam could hear his sister barking out orders. He grinned. She seemed back to her normal self, in full doctor mode—which resembled her big-sister mode a great deal.

I
n half an hour, the SUV was packed with gallons of water, cans, clothing, and tools from the neighbors. Much to Hannah’s relief and the joy of those she’d ordered around, they took off, picked Gussie up, and headed out of town.

With downed limbs and power lines, detours and blocked lanes, the trip took longer than the usual hour. Not a lot of traffic. The wise and cautious population probably still hunkered down or surveyed damage while he and Gussie and his single-minded sister pressed on against a still-high wind and around abandoned cars and the other, miscellaneous obstacles littering the two-lane highway.

“Can’t you go any faster?” Hannah asked again from the backseat, where she was crowded between bags of clothing and supplies.

The first time she’d asked that, he’d said, “Not in these conditions.”

The second time, he’d responded, “Only if you run ahead and clear the highway.”

He no longer answered that question.

“Are you sure you know where the high school is?” she asked.

The first time he’d replied, “Yes, I’ve been there.”

When she asked again ten minutes later, he said, “No, I’m driving off into unmapped space and hope we find it the next time we circle the earth.”

While Gussie tried unsuccessfully not to laugh, Hannah had scowled at both of them. But she didn’t ask that question again.

As much as Hannah was duplicating the constant questions she’d asked years ago when they went on trips with their parents, Adam knew why she asked. Hannah had never counted patience as one of her virtues. She wanted to leap into healing immediately; any delay drove her nuts.

He began several conversations with Gussie, but every time they started, his sister interrupted with a question.

Instead of ordering her out of the car, he ignored her until, pushed to the end of his tolerance, he said, “Hannah, be quiet. Gussie and I want to talk about our wedding.”

She must have realized wedding discussion trumped her topics and was quiet.

“We don’t want it too early in July, with the Fourth and all.” Gussie pulled out her cell and opened the calendar. “June might work better for Hector. Who knows what might be expected of him for basketball?”

“I don’t know. Do they have weight lifting we’d need to work around?”

“Maybe June seventh or fourteenth. We can check with friends and family to see which is better.” She continued to study the calendar. “Camp starts June twenty-ninth.”

“You’re planning your wedding around Hector’s school schedule and camp?” Hannah asked.

“That’s what ministers do,” he said. “Early June sounds good.” He grinned at Gussie and reached for her hand. “Sounds great. Ask Maggie to put those dates on the calendar. Do you think that gives the Widows enough time to plan?”

“Why don’t you just elope, not worry about the fuss of a wedding?” Hannah asked.

“That would break the Widows’ hearts,” Gussie said. “We couldn’t do that to them.”

“But they’ll make your lives crazy and try to take over.”

“Making the Widows happy is one of the priorities of a minister in Butternut Creek,” Adam explained. “And in a small town, the entire community celebrates the marriage of a minister.”

“It will be the social event of the year.”

By this time, they’d entered an area where more obstacles littered the highway. At a few places, they had to drive on the shoulder—on one side or the other—in an effort to avoid entire trees and large parts of roofs.

As they entered San Pablo ten minutes later, Gussie and Hannah leaned forward to study the destruction while Adam attempted to avoid it.

Rubble stretched down Main Street farther than he could see and looked six or seven blocks wide. In front of him, he could see that the tornado had skipped through downtown. He doubted any loss of life or many injuries here, because most small towns in central Texas had long since lost their downtown businesses to discount stores outside the city limits.

The tornado had churned up the ground of a park and torn asphalt up in a parking lot. The worst damage seemed to be around the motel where Hector and Gabe had stayed.

“There’s Gabe’s truck.” Hannah pointed at the formerly sleek vehicle now covered in debris. Could have been anyone’s, but it looked like Gabe’s.

Two women in neon orange vests stood at a sawhorse across the highway. Farther down, Adam could glimpse a couple of groups of people. He cautiously maneuvered the SUV toward the women at the makeshift checkpoint.

Relief filled Hannah. They’d finally arrived. She could get to performing her life’s work.

Sitting in that storm cellar and listening to the news about destruction from the tornado, the realization that people were hurt and needed her skills had filled her with focus and purpose. She felt more energetic than she had for a long time and, at the same time, guilty that the suffering of others made her feel alive. Yes, it was horrifying that a crisis, that people she didn’t know losing their houses and getting injured or even killed, filled her with excitement.

She shouldn’t have given Adam the keys to the Escalade. If she’d kept them, she could have jumped in and driven off instead of waiting for him, for supplies, for Gussie. No matter how much she organized and pleaded and pushed, no one else seemed to feel the same deep need to respond immediately to the disaster that she could feel throbbing in the air and vibrating through her body.

She’d always worked in hospitals and camps with the victims of destruction. Most often she’d witnessed not destroyed villages but the terrible damage and pain people inflicted on each other, the scars that hate and war and greed left on human bodies. Here in San Pablo the destruction was impersonal, a force of nature that showed no bias in its action. The good and the bad, rich and poor, different races—everyone in the area was impacted by the amazing force of nature.

As her gaze scanned the area, the sight of Gabe’s truck produced both an unexpected spasm and an illogical sense of panic. He was here, he was safe, she reminded herself. Inside she felt relief as well as a mixture of other emotions.

Hannah scrutinized the damage. In the middle of a debris-covered lot, Gabe’s truck had escaped lightly. The tornado had dumped trees and roofs and signs and other wreckage she couldn’t recognize for blocks and blocks, as far as she could see west of here and south. She struggled to take in the damage as Adam stopped in front of a barricade.

“Can’t come through here,” said a woman in an orange vest who stood in front of a flashing arrow as she waved them toward the north.

“Do you know how to get to the high school from here?” Hannah asked Adam. “Maybe you should ask this lady.”

Without a word, Adam pointed toward a large sign on slightly bent poles with an arrow pointing north and
SAN PABLO HIGH SCHOOL
in huge letters.

She didn’t speak, merely studied the destruction as they drove. The power of nature in a civilized world, a world humans thought they controlled until wind, water, fire, or the movement of tectonic plates took over—well, it astounded her.

They passed the hospital just before the turn into the high school. Cars were scattered across the lot and people moved in and out while several ambulances and a few police cars waited at the emergency entrance.

When they arrived at the school, about twenty trucks sat in the parking lot. Close to the front entrance, she saw Hector help a woman from a vehicle. Adam immediately headed in that direction and pulled up a few feet away. But instead of getting out, he turned toward Hannah. “You’ve been sick, Sis.”

Not wanting to hear this, she unfastened her seat belt and attempted to open the door but bags of supplies hemmed her in. As much as she wished she could put her hands over her ears and sing,
La-la-la-la-la
, that was immature. He had her trapped.

“Please take it easy,” he said.

She nodded. He didn’t believe her. After more than twenty-five years as siblings, he knew that once she got going, she didn’t, couldn’t, and wouldn’t stop, not while people needed her, not while there were injuries and sick children.

“Please,” he said. “Just rest every now and then. Eat. Try to be normal.”

“Thanks,” she growled.

Before he could say more, Gussie got out and started moving bundles to release Hannah.

“Hey, Pops and Pops’s sister and Pops’s girl,” Hector shouted as he settled the woman into a wheelchair. “Let me push Mrs. Everley inside, then I’ll be right back.”

“Let me check her over.” Hannah leaped from the SUV as the supplies she’d been supporting with her body collapsed into her vacated space.

“Doc, there’s medical staff inside. Let’s get her out of the heat.” With that, he pushed ahead and through the doors.

When Hannah would have followed, a man stepped forward. “Only medical and approved personnel inside,” he said. “Are you a doctor?”

“Yes, I’m an epidemiologist.”

“Sorry.” The man blocked the entrance. “We’re only admitting medical doctors.”

She reached in her pocket, pulled out a laminated identification tag from Kenya, and handed it to the man. “I am a doctor. A medical doctor.”

He studied the tag, compared her with the picture, then handed it back. “Okay, take it to that desk and check in with the lady up there.”

As she glanced toward that desk, Hector returned.

“Where’s Gabe?” she heard Adam ask him.

Although Hannah had taken a step toward the desk, she stopped to listen. It would seem churlish not to show interest in Hector’s coach and Adam’s friend. Amazing how she could lie to herself.

“He’s still around the motel helping sift through the rubble. I hitched a ride here to meet you. He said for you to take me back to the motel, but I’m going to stay here. Bunch of guys from the college basketball team volunteering here. Want to get to know them.”

“Sounds good.” Adam nodded. “Sis, you’ll be okay here?”

She waved and headed toward the desk again. “Of course. This is what I do.” Energy filled her. Time to focus, save lives, and maybe make contact with the doctor and person she used to be.

Once her credentials had been recorded and accepted, the woman said, “The hospital is overwhelmed so we turned the cafeteria into a hospital annex and the gym into triage. They really need help in triage.”

She felt like a horse returning to the barn, like Br’er Rabbit tossed into the briar patch. Actually like Hannah Jordan, MD, back home. She grabbed a clipboard, strode toward the line of people awaiting service, and started asking questions and taking histories.

In the middle of the destruction, Adam didn’t immediately rise to the challenge as his sister had. In fact, he felt overwhelmed with no idea where to start. Rubble covered every inch; blocks and blocks of ruined buildings surrounded Gussie and him and the few other volunteers.

“Hey, guys. Good to see you,” Gabe shouted when he saw them and crossed the parking lot. Large floodlights powered by generators partially illuminated the area but left a lot in deep shadows. “Let me explain what we’re doing. This was a skipping tornado, which means three different tornadoes hopped across the town. We have damage here and farther west, then southwest. We’ll start with the basics of search and clear.”

Everyone nodded.

“That”—Gabe pointed toward what must have been a strip mall yesterday—“contained a video game gallery, one of the few places open when the tornado hit. Fortunately, only a few injuries and no fatalities.” He pointed toward the southwest. “Some volunteers have branched out to survey damage in the neighborhoods, searching for the wounded and transporting them to the high school.”

“What can we do?” Adam asked.

“What did you bring with you?”

“We have a generator in the back of the SUV.” Gussie waved toward where they’d parked.

“Have a chain saw?” Gabe asked.

“Sam’s bringing one,” Adam said.

“Great. First, we’ll clear what we can on the street. Once the heavy equipment gets here from construction sites, we’ll start clearing downed trees in the residential sections. The sun will be up soon, so it’ll be easier.”

“You sound like an old hand,” Adam said.

Gabe nodded. “Not my first rodeo. The ’dozers should arrive in a couple of hours. We’ll clear what we can, but in the meantime we need to scout the area and listen. If you hear someone buried, don’t take chances. If you can’t safely dig them out, let them know help’s coming and they aren’t alone.”

Adam and Gussie chose an area no one else had covered. Walking in different directions, they shouted and listened. Neither heard anything and didn’t know if that counted as good news—no one buried there—or bad news if someone couldn’t respond.

Within an hour, Adam spotted Sam and George making their way through the debris. “Did Ouida make you come?” he asked George.

“No,” George replied. “She suggested it but I made the decision.”

Even wearing jeans, athletic shoes, and a T-shirt covered with a hoodie, George looked like the best-dressed emergency responder ever.

“You guys have a chain saw?” At Sam’s nod, Gabe added, “Take the generator and drive to the residential area behind the motel. Get started clearing that.”

Then Gabe glanced into the rising sun. Adam nearly gasped at the sight of the cuts and darkening bruises. “What happened to your face?”

“Nothing.” Gabe turned away. “We need to get going. Grab a…”

“You have to have someone check that out. May need stitches.” When Gabe didn’t answer, he said, “Don’t be macho.”

Gabe turned to glare at Adam. “I’m here to work.”

“You know, there are diseases in a place like this that can get into an untreated wound and cause you a lot of trouble. Etiologic agents of zygomycosis can cause serious wound infections. It has high mortality rates. It’s often found in rubble and disaster sites.”

“How do you…” Gabe shook his head. “Just my luck. My friend’s sister is an epidemiologist. Do you guys talk about infections a lot?”

“I used to quiz her in a few subjects. She’s up at the high school. You should have her look you over.”