Though Waters Roar (33 page)

Bebe rested her hand on his knee, worried that he would decide to turn back. “The waterfall brings back memories, doesn’t it? It’s hard to believe we’ve been married for more than ten years already, isn’t it?”

“Mmm . . .” He didn’t seem to be listening. He stared at the falls and shook his head before moving forward again. “I don’t like the look of that dam, Beatrice. It was built right after the war, you know. It was never designed to hold back so much water.”

They barely recognized the cabin when they finally reached it, either. The beach along the lakefront was under water, the fishing pier submerged. The lake engulfed all the trees that had once stood near the shoreline, and Bebe had to remove her shoes and lift her skirts to wade from the road to the doorstep.

“The flooding up here seems even worse than the last time,” she said. “That was when we had the cholera epidemic in town, remember?”

“Maybe we should go back.”

Bebe shook her head, aware of the temptations he faced in town. “We’ll be fine. I’m just remembering.”

Two days later it was still raining. Horatio couldn’t stop worrying about the earthen dam. He walked outside so often to check on it that Bebe wondered if he had a flask of alcohol hidden somewhere. She watched him from the cabin window as he waded down the beach for the third time that day and disappeared among the trees.

“The dam doesn’t look sound to me,” he told her when he returned. “The structure has aged over the years, and it has developed a nasty bulge on one side. I wonder if anyone from town has bothered to inspect it lately.”

“Who is in charge of the dam?”

Horatio shrugged. “This land is all privately owned up here. I suppose all of the landowners are.”

Each day the lake continued to swell before their eyes. Horatio worried and paced, walking out in the rain every few hours to check on the dam. By the end of the week the waves lapped at their doorstep. “I think we should go home,” he said. “I want to send someone up here to inspect the dam and see if it’s sound.”

Bebe resisted his pleas, convinced that Horatio wanted an excuse to go home and get drunk. His latest binge had lasted more than two and a half years—much longer than any of his others had—and she knew it would probably take more than a week for him to dry out. She had been afraid this would happen when he had decided to drive up here himself. Having transportation handy made it too easy for him to leave before he was ready.

That afternoon, when he returned from his walk, he begged Bebe to come outside with him. “Please, I want you to look at it for yourself, Beatrice. You’ll see why I’m so concerned.”

She pulled on a pair of his trousers and waded out to the dam with him, slogging through water up to her thighs in places. She heard the roar of the falls long before she saw them. Horatio stopped in a clearing overlooking the dam, and what Bebe saw frightened her so badly that she clung to his side. Water rushed over the dam with unstoppable power. The river below the falls had become a raging rapids.

“Can you see how the dam is bulging over there?” Horatio shouted above the noise. “It’s only made of earth. I’m afraid it’s going to burst.”

“What will happen if it does?”

“If that dam gives way, all of the water in Iroquois Lake will go surging down the river at once. The houses in The Flats would be demolished by the tidal wave. Remember the flood eight years ago when we had the cholera epidemic? If this dam lets go, that entire neighborhood could be washed right off its foundations.”

Bebe knew he wasn’t exaggerating. Even as they stood watching, a small, bouldersized section crumbled away before their eyes. Horatio gripped her arm. “Look, Beatrice. It’s starting to go! We have to go home and warn people!”

He grabbed her hand as they hurried back to the cabin, struggling as if in a dream to move through the deep water. Bebe packed as quickly as she could while Horatio harnessed the horse to the runabout. For the first time she was grateful that they had driven up to the lake and wouldn’t have to wait for the driver to return for them. But when the vehicle was ready, Horatio stopped her from climbing on board.

“I want you to stay here, Beatrice. The road follows the river most of the way and if the dam bursts while we’re on our way home . . .” He drew a breath as if his chest ached. “If it bursts, we’ll never make it. We’ll be washed downstream with the surge, carriage and all.”

Bebe’s heart hurt from pounding so hard. “Well, if it’s too dangerous for me, then it’s too dangerous for you, too.”

“I can drive faster if I’m alone. I’ll come back for you when it’s safe. I want you to stay here on higher ground.”

“Never! I’m going with you, and don’t you dare try to stop me!” She clutched his jacket in her fists as if she never intended to let go. “I love you, Horatio Garner, and if you get washed away, then I want to be right beside you.”

“What about Lucy? She needs a mother—”

“And she needs a father, too. Now, come on. You’re wasting time. Let’s go.”

He lifted her onto the wagon and they took off down the mountain as fast as they dared on the flooded road. “I hope you’re praying,” Horatio murmured.

“Yes—with all my might.” Bebe pleaded with God to help them make it back to town before the dam burst. He had protected her and her mother from the bounty hunters years ago, and she prayed that He would send His angels to protect her and Horatio now.
“When you obey the Lord,”
Hannah had said,
“He will always be with you,
no matter what happens.”
Bebe prayed that her mother was right.

Horatio sat on the edge of the seat, concentrating on the path ahead as they traveled down the steep, muddy road as fast as the horse would go. Bebe helped point out some of the deeper ruts and holes, while glancing anxiously at the swollen river on their left. The current had uprooted trees, carrying them along in the brown, swirling water. The river rushed madly alongside them as if they were in a race against it. Perhaps they were.

Please help us, God,
she silently pleaded.
Please spare the town and
our home. Please help us make it in time to warn people. . . .

She suddenly remembered how much Lucy and Mrs. Garner loved to go shopping downtown. She tugged on Horatio’s sleeve in panic. “What about the downtown area? Do you think the tidal wave will hit there, too?” She tried not to picture her daughter and mother-in-law strolling innocently down Central Avenue when the flood hit.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I don’t know. . . . The stores aren’t far from the river.”

Horatio had to stop three times and climb down from the runabout to lead the horse through the deep water that flooded the road. The sound of the rushing river spooked the animal, and Bebe saw its eyes rolling in fear. Horatio was getting soaked but he spoke calmly as he coaxed the horse along. He looked strong and determined. She had never loved him more.

Whenever she thought about the crumbling dam and the water that was powerful enough to sweep them away, Bebe could barely breathe.
Please, God . . . please . . .
she prayed. And when the town finally came into sight below them, she wept with relief. “We made it! Thank God!”

“Yes, we’re almost there,” Horatio breathed. “Hang on, darling.”

The lathered horse was panting with exertion when Horatio stopped at the tannery. They came to it first along their way, and he rushed inside, shouting, “Shut the place down, MacLeod! Send everyone home! The dam on Iroquois Lake is going to burst. Everyone who lives near the river needs to evacuate. Now!”

They stopped next at the mayor’s office, where Horatio delivered the same warning. “Sound all the town’s fire alarms! Get the police and firemen to spread the word! Everyone needs to get up to higher ground!”

Bebe chewed her fingernails while she waited for him. Fear gnawed her insides. Finally, Horatio turned the exhausted horse up the hill toward home. Bebe didn’t even wait for the vehicle to halt out front before she leaped off and ran up the steps into the house.

“Lucy!” she cried. “Lucy, where are you?” If her daughter were downtown, how would Bebe ever find her in time? She would have to go from store to store, searching for her. “Lucy!”

It felt like an eternity before the playroom door opened at the top of the steps and Lucy’s golden head appeared. “I’m up here, Mama.”

“Thank God! Thank God!” Bebe bounded up the stairs toward her daughter, tripping over the last step, struggling to her feet again, hugging Lucy tightly. “Thank God, you’re safe!”

“Ow . . . not so hard, Mama. You’re wrinkling my dress!”

Mrs. Garner emerged from her bedroom down the hall. “What’s going on? Why all this shouting?”

“The dam up on Iroquois Lake is going to burst,” Bebe said breathlessly. “All that water is going to flood the town. People have to get out. Horatio says the tidal wave could wipe out The Flats.”

Horatio had followed Bebe inside after tethering the horse. He stood downstairs in the foyer, calling up to them. “Are all of the servants at home, Mother?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

Horatio ran into the parlor, dripping muddy water on the floor, and rang the service bell to summon them. One after another, they hurried to the front hallway in response. Bebe saw him counting heads to see if they were all there.

“Make sure everyone stays inside,” Horatio told the butler. “Don’t let anyone go downtown. It’s not safe. The dam up on Iroquois Lake is about to give way and all of that water . . .”

“Don’t stand there with the door open,” Mrs. Garner told him as she descended the stairs. “Come upstairs, Horatio, and let the servants fix you a hot bath. You need to change out of those wet clothes before you catch your death of pneumonia.”

He shook his head. “I’m going back out to finish sounding the warning.”

“I’ll go with you.” Bebe released her hold on Lucy and started down the stairs.

“Oh no, you won’t,” Horatio said. “You’re staying right here with Mother and Lucy.”

“And you’re staying, as well,” Mrs. Garner said. “There’s no reason in the world why you should risk your life. You can very well send someone else.”

Horatio took another step toward the open door. “People are going to need a place to go for shelter. I’m going to bring as many people as I can up here to the ridge where it’s safe.” He turned to the servants, who were whispering fearfully among themselves. “Get some coffee and food ready for them. I’ll be back shortly.”

“No, Horatio. I forbid it!” Mrs. Garner said. Lucy began to wail as if the panic had become contagious.

“Daddy, Daddy!” She started down the steps toward her father, stretching out her arms to him. Bebe caught her and tried to comfort her, but she squirmed in protest, trying to reach Horatio. He was almost through the door when Peter, the family’s carriage driver, stepped forward.

“I’ll go with you, Mr. Garner. We can rescue more people if we take two vehicles.”

“Very good. Thank you, Peter.” They left hurriedly, making plans.

“Daddy! I want Daddy,” Lucy cried. Bebe finally released her after the door closed behind Horatio, and Lucy fled into her grandmother’s arms.

Mrs. Garner glared at Bebe as if the commotion were all her fault, then turned her attention to Lucy. “There, there. Come with me, dear. The cook will fix us some tea and cookies.” She led her away by the hand.

For the next hour, Bebe tried to distract herself from her fears by helping the servants turn the house into a shelter for the refugees. Church bells clanged incessantly all over Roseton and fire bells sounded a warning in the distance. When Bebe went into the parlor to build a fire to warm the room, she found Lucy and Mrs. Garner sitting side by side on the horsehair sofa, sipping tea. Bebe wasn’t sure if she should be irritated with Mrs. Garner for not helping or grateful that she was distracting Lucy.

“What are you doing?” Mrs. Garner asked as Bebe knelt to pile the wood in the fireplace. “Let the servants do that.”

“I don’t mind. I’d rather work than pace the floor and worry. And I’m sure everyone will be wet and cold when they arrive, so I thought I would warm the room for them.”

Mrs. Garner surveyed the overstuffed room with a worried look. “You’re not going to allow strangers to come into my parlor, are you? What about all of my things?”

“That’s all they are, Mother Garner—things. People’s lives are at stake.”

But Mrs. Garner rose from her chair like a queen rising from her throne and strode from the room with Lucy close behind her. Bebe crumpled up a piece of newspaper and lit a match to it. By the time she got the fire kindled, her mother-in-law had returned with two chambermaids.

“I don’t care what you were doing,” Mrs. Garner told them, “I want you to help me protect my things.” She paraded around the room, pointing to all her bric-a-brac and silver pieces. “Take this . . . and this . . . and this . . . upstairs to my bedroom suite for safekeeping.” Lucy followed her grandmother around, whining for attention as Mrs. Garner pointed to each item. The maids ran up and down the stairs, hauling everything away.

Two hours after he left, Horatio returned. Bebe felt weak with relief as she hugged him, not caring if she got wet. He led a bedraggled group of people into the house, half of them small children. “I’m so proud of you,” Bebe whispered as she brushed his wet hair off his forehead. A moment later, Lucy raced into the foyer to see her father.

“Daddy! Lift me up, Daddy,” she said, reaching up to him.

“Carry me.”

He patted her head. “Not now, sweetheart. I’m all wet. Your nice dress will get all wet.”

Bebe looked at the frightened, shivering children that Horatio had herded into the foyer and saw them gaping at the enormous rooms and sweeping staircase. She remembered how overwhelmed she had felt the first time she’d entered Horatio’s home—and these poor souls were fleeing for their lives.

“Come, Lucy. Let’s take these children upstairs and show them where your playroom is. They must be terribly frightened.”

Mrs. Garner moved to bar their way. “You can’t be serious!

These people can’t be trusted. They’ll break all her nice things.”

Bebe winced at her mother-in-law’s insulting words, spoken loudly enough for the children and their mothers to hear. “We can always buy more, Mother Garner,” she whispered. “Please, I don’t want Lucy to grow up to be selfish.” She motioned to the refugees again. “Come, children. This way. Mothers, too, if you wish. Lucy, you go first and show them where your playroom is.”