Mammoth Secrets (21 page)

“There's a turnout ahead, to the right.” Lilah pointed. “Across from the motel.”

On the left side of the rural route, Jake saw the rectangle of the Star Traveler Inn. A broad section of the second floor rooftop gaped like an open maw, the main box of the hotel stripped into a cross-section, but the star-shaped neon sign remained untouched. Red shingles floated atop the muck and leaf-strewn swimming pool, along with half of a downed tree.

“Mercy...” Lilah closed her eyes and then forced them back open.

“Steadman's ranch is over across on the other side.” Eden leaned across her seat. “Still no cellphone reception out here.”

“CB works. They'll call when the ambulance gets towed out.” Luke placed an elbow over Lilah's chair back.

Jake bumped the truck around downed trees and back onto the blacktop.

Luke continued, “Remember our senior year?”

A laugh, and then worry dusted Lilah's gaze.

“What?” Jake ran into a blocked path, backed his truck around, eyeing some downed power poles with concern. “What happened senior year? I'm a foreigner, remember?”

Through the mirror, Jake saw the seriousness behind Luke's gaze even as he maintained easy conversation. “Jeremy, you want to tell him about prom night or should I?”

“Stupid story, anyhow.” Jeremy sniffed and turned to look out the window.

Luke laughed. “Jeremy here wanted to ask Rhonda Steadman to the prom—he and I played basketball—were pretty good at it, too. So, he decided to talk to her right after the big rivalry game with the Thayer Broncos and he'd shot the winning basket. Feeling pretty reckless that day, weren't you?” He elbowed Jeremy, then turned back to the others. “Anyway, so my boy here calls Rhonda up—”

“I was working the diner back then.” Jeremy stood on one side of Eden, with cheeks brightened beet red. “It was noisy.”

“Oh, sure. That's why.” Eden snuffled a laugh into Luke's shoulder.

“Why what?” Jake steered along the dirt access road and looked both ways across the rural highway. No sign of cars or traffic, so he gunned it across the road. “Tell me more.”

“So, when Mrs. Steadman answers, he asks for Ronnie—” Eden offered with a snicker, reliving the moment right alongside Luke with obvious enjoyment.

“Then he doesn't wait for her to say much and goes ahead and asks her to prom—” Luke continued.

“And never realized he was asking her kid brother, Ronald!” Eden finished the punch line with a hoot of laughter. She and Luke doubled over, enjoying the tale far more than Jeremy, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“It was noisy at the diner.” Jeremy jutted his chin and looked out the window. “Like I said.”

“That wasn't even the best part.” Luke reached an arm across Eden's shoulders. Luke's hand squeezed, then shot back, as if burned.

“Uh, the best part was the joke Ronnie and Rhonda played on our Jeremy on prom night.” Eden cleared her throat. “You finish it, Jeremy. Luke and I were already in the limo.”

“When I answered the door, they had little Ronnie all dolled up in a dress and makeup, waiting for me. Everyone had a big laugh. Most of all, Mr. Steadman, who also put the fear of—oh, my Lord.”

“He didn't look that bad.” Eden frowned. “Ronnie's picture even made it in the yearbook.”

“No, not that.” Jeremy blinked, pointing. “Look.”

The sign for the Steadman ranch, Barn Hollow, hung cockeyed, swaying in the wind. The sprawling, groomed lawn sliced with a wide dirt scar that led to a concrete slab; the tornado's path blazed as if it'd been on a mission. The house was leveled to the foundation. Cement, sticks of timbers, one brick and mortar wall with the chimney were still standing, the other three were just gone. Beyond, an enormous, shattered red barn, presumably the one mentioned on the sign, sagged in what used to be the backyard, next to the twisting splinters of an old oak tree.

Lord, help us find these folks safe from harm.

“Mr. Steadman!” Luke was out of the car and shouting as he scrambled up and over what used to be a wall. “Tom!”

“Careful!” Jake called as he eyed the teetering mass of lumber and crumbled drywall. “That doesn't look stable.”

“Hey, Jeremy. You dated Ronnie awhile.” Lilah turned a full circle, taking in the destruction. “Tell me they had a basement? Something?”

“Something.” He turned to the road, then back to the main house as if trying to get his bearings. “By the little red tack barn. To the left of the peach tree.”

Jake looked for the landmarks and failed. Shattered beams, tin roof tiles, splintered trees, a downed laundry line with a shirt still clipped to the cords. Then, he noticed the long, redwood line of fence far off on either side. He traced a line to something that could have once been a peach tree, roots exposed leaving a deep hole in the ground.

“Wind uprooted it.” Luke stepped up. “There's the door. It's wedged shut by that beam.”

The three men stepped up and gave a solid heave to the wood beam that once might have been the ceiling support for a tack shed. It shifted, but wouldn't budge.

The girls dropped the bags they carried and joined. All gave a solid push.

Finally, the beam groaned and gave way, revealing the hard metal vault door set into a concrete bunker, a sign with a trio of black triangles against a yellow square: The Steadman family's nuclear fallout shelter.

Luke knocked, sounding a gong. He knocked again, listening.

Thin sounds came from underneath.

Life.

Luke and Jeremy each hauled open a side of the door, revealing inner steel-lined doors underneath. The Steadman's storm cellar wasn't just dug out from the earth like the one at the chapel; it was set in solid concrete. Luke shook the handles. Nothing.

“They must have it latched from the inside.” He gave it another shake, rapped on it with his flashlight butt.

Then, something clicked. The door whooshed as seals opened, and then pushed up.

Jeremy and Luke hauled back as the shaking body of Mrs. Steadman emerged like Lazarus from the grave. Concrete dust whitened her shocked face, raccoon-eyed from tear-drenched mascara. “Oh, thank you, Lord!” She called up a prayer, clasped her hands, and hugged each one of them in turn. “It's Tom. He's down below, but he's hurt.”

“I'm fine, Earnestine.” A voice sounded from below, still larger than life.

“You're not fine. You're bleeding,” she bit back at him, turned an apologetic grin. “He's well enough to want to argue with me.”

Luke and Jeremy trotted down the concrete stairs to do their work.

A generator hummed, light pushed up from below.

A moment later, the voices went professional, and then the tone shifted. Footsteps trotted up. “Aw, Mrs. S. That's just a scratch.” Luke poked his head up like a squirrel.

“Told you, you old worry-wart!” Tom called up. “Let me go, boy.”

Luke gave an arm to help his patient up to ground level. “You'll be fine. Let's butterfly close that gash, then we'll help you up.”

“My…my…” Earnestine Steadman turned around. She surveyed the wreckage that she'd once called home. “I told him it was heading straight for us! He wanted to hide out in the closet and I said no way. Not this one. Tom couldn't find the cellar keys. We almost didn't get the doors...” Her voice trailed off as she sank to her knees amid the rubble of her former home. Tears came in a tidal wave; sobs wrenched her shoulders. “How could this happen?”

Jake viewed the wreckage, surveying the total loss of their home and property. His mind swept every available verse and scripture, but came up dry. Like the tissue from his pocket, clean, and folded. He unpocketed it, pressed it to her palms. “Here, ma'am.”
What do I say to a woman who just lost a lifetime of earthly memories? What comfort can I give? I don't even know these people.

Earnestine Steadman blotted her eyes, face, sighed at the black and grime she'd wiped away. “I must be a mess.” A burble of almost laughter came from her throat. “Me and my house.”

“I'm so sorry for your loss.” Jake squeezed her hand, finding the cold clamminess of shock. He folded her slight frame in an embrace. “There are no words that can mend this damage. No scripture that can replace what was lost. But you still have each other. That's what matters most.”

“God sent you here to help us.” Earnestine blinked at him, her face, now clean from the chaos of her grief, shone in the subtle reflection of her faith. “We were trapped, and you came. You found us, and I don't even know how, seeing how we were in the fallout shelter. No one knows about that.”

Jeremy paused in leading Tom up the stairs, coughed into his hand, shrugged sheepish, silently imploring Jake not to say anything.

Jake's gaze anchored on Lilah, gently freeing a flag from the rubble. Her face was dusty, determined, and absolutely beautiful. “God works in mysterious ways,”

“He does.” Fresh tears spilled from Earnestine's sky-blue eyes. Her hands clasped Jake's, tighter with each word. “Oh, He does indeed.” She turned to the group and stammered through her gratitude. “I was so scared, and Tom, well, he was just like an injured bear. Not even letting me come near him with the first aid.”

“I did no such thing, Earnestine,” Tom grumbled, rubbing his forearm, the sleeve of his shirt torn, dried with brown blood, a fresh bandage peeked out underneath.

“Hmph.” She stepped to his side, wrapped him in her thin arms. “Couldn't even touch him to put on a bandage.”

“Well. You found us,” Tom growled toward Jeremy. “I can only guess how.”

“A miracle!” Earnestine waved her arms at the heavens. “Thank you, Lord!”

Fear flash over Jeremy's face, there was anger in Tom's, and wonder in Earnestine's gaze.

“You know how we found you, don't you?” Jeremy dipped his toe in the situation.

“Of course.” She cocked her head at her daughter's high school crush and then blinked back to her new pastor, her faith in their discovery unshaken. “It's a miracle.”

“God had nothing to do with it...” Tom's face reddened again with anger as he turned his wrath on the paramedic who'd once dated his daughter. “You knew about this place?”

“Yes, but...I didn't—we didn't—”

“Oh, you go on and stop it, Jeremy. He's not gonna hurt you.” Earnestine stepped in between her husband and the paramedic. “Her daddy might rail into Ronnie some, but you're all grown now. A few stolen kisses and whatever, that's water under a very old bridge.” She set her hands on her hips, having a good laugh. “Rhonda's got three kids, living in St. Louis. You think I don't know she showed you our fallout shelter?” She turned to Eden and Lilah. “I made sure I knew what my teenage daughter was doing most of the time. And that's why I also sent her to college in the city. She needed to broaden her horizons a bit.” She turned a sweet smile and patted the boy's cheek. “And so did you, Jeremy.”

“Indeed.” Jake couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of his soul. “Miracles come in all shapes and sizes, don't they, Mrs. S.?”

“Why else would God have sent you all out here together?” She hooked arms with her husband.

Tom nodded in agreement, though his glum look indicated he thought otherwise.

Together, they walked through the wreckage of the former barn, the bulk of it now scattered across the back field, though half of the structure—one wall, the hay loft, the barn door still braced shut, and part of the roof—soared into empty space.

“That used to be the back door,” Tom said.

“We'll have to change the name of the ranch, Tom.” Mrs. Steadman shook her head, leaned her forehead to his shoulder. “Can't call it Barn Hollow when there's none there no more.”

“Maybe we should call it Barn-A-Field.” He swept her up in a bear hug with his good arm. “Or, maybe we should just chuck it all and retire to St. Louis, like you've been begging me since the grandkids were born.”

She sagged against him, and they laughed like two people who hadn't just lost everything in the world.

 

 

 

 

29

 

Jake headed the truck back toward Mammoth at the end of the longest day he could remember.

Sunset painted the broken storm clouds shades of fuchsia, burnt umber, and amethyst as they turned on Main Street.

“Who's hungry?” Lilah asked, pointing to an empty space in front of Earl's Kitchen. The orange neon sign winked “Open,” beckoning them inside for a dish of comfort and a cup of reassurance after their long day.

Jake parked and shut off the engine.

Jeremy, Luke, and Eden jumped out the back of the king cab.

Jake hesitated, hands still gripping the curve of the smooth steering wheel.

Lilah unlatched her seatbelt, but made no other move to leave the cab.

“Quite an effort today.” He cleared his throat. “Well done.”

“You, too.” A smile touched her lips. “It meant something to those folks, you know. Your being there.”

“I didn't do anything.”

“You. God. Whatever.” She emitted a strange-sounding laugh.

“Me, God, whatever?” He repeated her callous words, a shard of worry slicing his spirit.

Where was this flirtation going, exactly? If he followed this relationship through to fruition, what sort of comfort would she be as a pastor's wife?

“I told you, Jake.” Her gaze went cold. She shrugged, as if in answer to his silent question. “I'm the wrong girl for you.”

His thoughts dusted to Margaret—the perfect pastor's wife—all but raised for the part by her devout family. Charitable to a fault. Sweet. Good-natured. Understanding about the time required to help those in crisis. Or, at least, so she'd seemed on the outside. Looks were deceiving...