Chapter Ten
When Walker and Tina got home that evening, Mae and Cleo were sitting in their rocking chairs on the front porch, watching the dark clouds rolling in from the south.
The Tomorrow Tree had at least a hundred years’ worth of root system, plus a trunk that had survived all kinds of wind, hail, and storms, so Tina was not worried about the effects a tornado might have on her old friend.
She and Walker sat down on the top step of the porch and braced their backs against the posts. “Do they still blow the sirens when we are in imminent danger?” she asked.
“Oh, honey,” Cleo answered. “Barbed wire fences and scattered yucca plants have never done a good job of blocking the wind that always blows in the Texas Panhandle. But when Oldham County is put under a severe tornado warning, we all take notice. We tune in to the weather station and listen for the loud screeching sound on our phones warning us to take shelter.”
“I wish they would sound an all-clear blast when it’s safe to come out of the basement. For all their squealing, these damn phones don’t tell us when the storm has passed,” Mae answered. She gave the cell phone lying on the table between her and Cleo a dirty look.
“If we do have to go, we’ve got sandwiches and snacks ready to go take shelter,” Cleo said.
“You aren’t going to let us go hungry, are you?” Walker asked.
“Might happen,” Mae smarted off. “All the food in the bag ain’t just for you, Cleo.
Don’t you think for a single second that I don’t know who ate the rest of the after-school cookies back on the kids’ first day of kindergarten.
” She turned to Walker. “She’s got two empty legs.
No matter how much she eats, they are never filled up. ”
Cleo held up a palm. “You’re jealous because you can’t look at a piece of pie without gaining five pounds, and I swear to God and all the angels, she’s got the memory of an elephant.”
Mae had leaned in to respond when all four of their phones gave off an eerie-sounding blast.
Walker slipped his phone from his pocket and read the message out loud. “All residents in the Vega, Benson, and Adrian areas to take shelter immediately. A tornado has been spotted on the ground five miles south of Benson, moving northeast.”
Cleo pushed up out of the rocking chair and hustled into the house with Mae right behind her. Walker got to his feet and held out a hand to help Tina. For the first time ever, she felt a spark when she put her hand in his and looked up into his blue eyes.
Must be the static from the storm. She blinked and then looked up at the sky. “Good grief, Walker. I can see the funnel dropping out of the sky. We’ve got to hurry.”
“Don’t lollygag around out there. Get on down here.” Cleo’s voice drifted from the basement and through the house.
Tina’s feet felt like they were glued to the porch.
Walker tugged on her hand at the same time lightning flashed and a limb from the Tomorrow Tree split away from the trunk and hung like a limp dishrag.
The top branches swirled like they were dancing to a fast song.
The merry-go-round squeaked, and the chains of the swings slapped against the metal poles.
“Please still be standing when this is over,” she whispered as Walker jerked her inside and ran through the house with her hand still in his.
He raced through the dining room and kitchen, and stood back to let her go down the steep, narrow steps before him.
When they were both inside, he slammed the door shut and threw the bolt to lock it.
The electricity blinked a couple of times and then went completely out, but a couple of oil lamps had already been lit.
Tina remembered the place well from her childhood days.
On the rare days when she’d been the only child at the house, she would be allowed to make a playhouse in the basement.
She and her dolls had pretended they were sheltering from a storm, and on other days, they were in a dungeon and the handsome prince would come along any minute and rescue them.
She sat down on the bed beside Walker and scanned the small room—it still had that twin-sized bed on one side and an assortment of rocking chairs on the other.
Everything, including the two chairs where Cleo and Mae always sat and did that evening, was the same.
She looked up and smiled. Even the grassy-looking stuff hanging from the ceiling was there.
She wouldn’t throw all those memories in the trash, but she could kick the bad things out the door. It wouldn’t be easy, because the ugly had a way of creeping in, but she would give it her best shot. Cleo and Mae deserved that as much as she did.
“I see you are still drying herbs down here,” Tina said.
“Yep, I am,” Cleo answered.
“Rosemary and basil are so expensive to buy in the store, and it costs so little to grow it in our greenhouse,” Mae answered.
Cleo moaned and threw her hands over her cheeks. “The greenhouse!”
“It’s survived worse winds than this,” Mae assured her. “Remember five years ago when the hail tore off part of the plastic covering? Walker fixed it for us, and we only lost a few of our plants.”
“But this is a tornado. We haven’t had to deal with that kind of thing since we were still in elementary school,” Cleo said.
“Remember the one that hit south of town and tore up Herman Richman’s grandpa’s farm?
It came with hail and strong winds and swept all kinds of things away.
It picked up a full-grown bull and put him in the top of a tree. ”
“This one zapped a limb off the Tomorrow Tree,” Tina muttered under her breath.
“What was that?” Mae asked.
“Nothing,” Tina answered and looked up. “Are you drying enough stuff down here to last if your greenhouse is damaged?”
Cleo nodded. “Mae has herbs stored for teas and cooking purposes for the next hundred years.”
“Not if I sell some at the craft fair,” she argued.
“What fair?” Tina asked.
“About seven or eight years ago—after you left town—the volunteer fire department started sponsoring a big craft fair in the school cafeteria every year. Folks come from miles around to set up their wares, and the funds go to buy whatever the department needs. We rent booth space, and we sell baked goods,” Mae explained.
“The church rents a booth. Our quilt is raffled off at that time. We rent another booth to sell our herbs.”
“And I bake cookies for days and days,” Cleo added. “In addition to the table rentals, some folks give a donation to the department. You never know when you might need them in a hurry, so me and Mae support them all we can.”
Tina smiled at the idea of Cleo selling her dried “poinsettia leaves” at the fair, and felt Walker nudge her shoulder. She sent a sly wink his way. Strange that after all these years, they could still read each other’s minds. Now that was true friendship.
Another short burst of vibes shot through her body. Storm static, again.
“It’s a bad one,” Cleo yelled when the noise filtering in from outside was so loud, they could hardly hear each other. “If this house is still standing, we’ll be some lucky folks.”
Before anyone could comment, everything went eerily quiet. Tina’s ears took a minute to adjust from the howling wind and debris tossed onto the metal roof. She checked the time on her phone and was amazed that it had been only fifteen minutes since they were sitting on the porch steps.
“Guess we can take these sandwiches back upstairs and have supper in the kitchen,” Mae said.
“After we check for damages,” Cleo told her.
“That won’t take long. This old house is solid, like the one in the Bible that was built on rock,” Mae assured her. “Walker, you can go on up and unlock the door.”
He nodded and took the stairs two at a time, opened the door, and turned around to face the parade behind him. “It’s raining now, but the kitchen is still here. Seems like the power is still out, though.”
“Is our tree still there?” Tina asked.
“How about the greenhouse?” Cleo yelled.
“Raining too hard for me to see either one,” Walker answered.
“We’ll have to wait a while to see what damage was done to our place and the town,” Mae huffed as she entered the kitchen.
“At least we’ve got a gas stove, so I can heat up some leftover potato chowder to go with our sandwiches.
The storm didn’t take what was left of last night’s lemon squares, either, so that can be our dessert. ”
“What can I do to help?” Tina asked.
“You can get the matches out of the cabinet and light the oil lamp over there,” Mae answered and nodded to her right.
“You and Walker can check upstairs and see if there are any water spots on the ceiling. If any of our roof blew away, rain will already have seeped in. You’ll have to light the lamp in the foyer, so take the box of matches with you after I light the stove,” Cleo replied.
“We’ll have the food on the table by the time you get done. ”
Mae raised her voice as Tina and Walker left the kitchen. “Start in the attic. That’s where it will show up first.”
“They’re taking this pretty calm,” Tina said.
Walker struck a match and lit the lamp, then carefully carried it up the stairs, down the hallway, and to the attic door.
“I was thinking the same thing. They seemed more concerned about the greenhouse than this one—but then, they’ve been through things like this before and know what to do.
” He made it up the narrow stairs and then duck-walked over to the center of the area, where he had enough room to stand up straight. “I don’t see any leaks. Do you?”
“Nope, not a one,” she answered after craning her neck back to check the bare wood ceiling. “Bring that light over here closer. I think I see . . . Nope, that’s just a knot in the wood. You don’t think they would ever move out of this place, do you?”
“I hope not, but this is a lot of house for them to take care of at their age. Without boarders, I don’t know how they’d handle it.”