Songs of Christmas (21 page)

Mrs. Honeyfield sat up front, next to Molly, and slammed the door shut. “Oh, thank you so much, Molly. You saved me.”

“I haven’t saved you yet. But I’m trying,” her mother replied with her trademark grin.

“Mom, look at Mrs. Honeyfield’s car. We were just standing here, waiting for you, and a huge branch flew out of nowhere and smashed into it.”

“I saw it, honey. Let’s just all say a silent prayer and buckle up . . . This is going to be bumpy ride,” Molly warned in her Bette Davis voice.

Molly turned the SUV out of the lot, moving through the water slowly. Amanda felt as if she were in a small boat and wondered how high the water had to be before even her mother’s vehicle would be trapped.

Her mom headed toward the first street that led away from the water, Scudder Lane, a steep hill that was hard to walk up but would probably not be flooded yet.

“Good Lord, look at that!” Mrs. Honeyfield gasped. They were just about to turn onto Scudder and had a clear view of the green and dock and the monument area near the harbor where the flagpole and veterans’ monument stood. The water had come up over the dock and the monument garden. A capsized boat, pulled loose from its mooring, floated in the middle of a flooded Main Street.

“Oh, brother, let’s get out of here,” Amanda’s mother said under her breath.

Amanda totally agreed and was relieved when they made the turn onto Scudder. But she hadn’t really counted on the amount of water flowing down the street, like a river, pulled by gravity to the harbor.

“Can you make it, Mom?” she asked. “Maybe we should try another street?”

“They’re all pretty bad until we get away from the village. If we can go a little farther on this one, I’ll turn onto Highland, which runs parallel to the water. That should be better. It’s my old rainstorm bus route,” Molly confided without taking her eyes off the road.

Amanda nodded and swallowed back a lump of fear. What if a tree branch fell on them? One very well could, she realized. Or a wire. A lot of the power lines were loaded with ice, dipping dangerously low. Some had already fallen, along with at least one utility pole, she noticed, cracked like a toothpick.

Her mother turned onto Highland, a smaller road lined with trees, and with no houses visible from the street. Though it was slick with a layer of slushy ice, it wasn’t full of water, Amanda saw with relief. They were no longer heading straight up, away from the harbor, but were making progress nevertheless.

“So far, so good,” Molly murmured. Then suddenly Amanda heard her say, “Oh, no!”

The SUV jolted to a sudden stop. A huge fallen tree blocked their path. “Wow, that was big one,” her mother said.

“Oh dear, I hope no one was hurt.” Mrs. Honeyfield looked out her window. A car lay underneath the tree, even more thoroughly smashed than her own.

For a long moment, nobody spoke or even made a move. Amanda heard the steady beat of the wipers, whisking away the icy rain, and the sound of the car’s blower, pumping hot air at them.

Suddenly Betty started to cry, her little face crumpled with fear. “Mommy, I’m scared!” she wailed.

“It’s all right, honey. I’m just going to turn around. Don’t worry.” Her mother’s tone was amazingly soothing. Amanda almost felt better herself . . . though she knew better. It wasn’t all right. It wasn’t all right at all.

Amanda leaned over and hugged her little sister, then kept her arm around Betty’s thin shoulders. “It’s just a bad storm, Betty. Don’t be scared. We’ll be home very soon,” she promised.

Betty sniffled and seemed calmer, but didn’t say anything.

Mrs. Honeyfield handed back a tissue. “Here, maybe this will help. Poor little thing.”

Amanda wiped Betty’s tears as their mother put the SUV in reverse. The big vehicle rolled back slowly toward a driveway where Amanda guessed her mother planned to turn and backtrack.

Then the SUV came to a sudden stop. “Oh, blast! We’re stuck.”

“Stuck? How did we get stuck?” Now Mrs. Honeyfield sounded frightened. She peered out of the side window, trying to see what had happened.

Molly sat back and put the vehicle in park. “I’ll go out and see.”

“No, Mom, don’t get out of the car. I don’t want you to.” Amanda knew she sounded foolish—and a lot like Betty—but she was suddenly terrified that her mother might be hurt. Molly could get hit by a tree limb or step on a downed power line.

“Don’t be silly, honey. I’ll be fine. Just let me see.”

Molly unhooked her seat belt and opened the driver’s door.

“All right, I’m coming, too,” Amanda said. Betty started crying when she unhooked her seat belt and grabbed at her jacket.

Amanda felt torn, but Mrs. Honeyfield turned and began to comfort the child. “It’s all right, dear. Let’s sing a song. Do you know ‘The Farmer in the Dell’?” she asked cheerfully. “I bet you can name all the animals, can’t you?”

Amanda couldn’t quite believe it. It had to be some trick you learned when you were a grandmother. But it seemed to work.

Amanda pulled her hood up, jumped out of the car, and met her mother at the back of the vehicle. The wind was blowing so hard, she was pressed against the rear fender.

“It’s a big branch, look.” Molly pointed down. The back of the car had gotten stuck on a thick branch. Smaller branches shot off the main trunk and were poking up. “Think we can pull it out?”

“I don’t know . . . what if it breaks the car or something?”

Her mother shrugged. “It might pull the muffler off . . . no big deal . . . Let me see what’s going on down there . . .”

Her mother kneeled down in a mound of slush and looked under the SUV. How did she know about car mechanics, too? Amanda wasn’t sure; she just did. She pulled at some parts of the branch and broke off a few pieces with her gloved hand.

Amanda held her arm so she wouldn’t slip as she got up again. “You start it up, Amanda, and drive forward very slowly. I’ll give a yank back here and try to get it loose.”

“Mom, that’s dangerous. You might get hurt. What if the car rolls backward or something? I think we should call Dad . . . or the police, even.”

“If it doesn’t work, we’ll call for help. I don’t feel like being stuck here all night, Amanda. Nobody is going to come for us in the blink of an eye. Let’s just try.”

Amanda gave her a look but finally turned and pulled open the driver’s side door and got in. She already knew how stubborn Molly could be. She supposed they could have walked to a street with houses and knocked on some doors, asking for shelter, but that wouldn’t be easy either, with Mrs. Honeyfield and Betty in tow.

Amanda took a breath, said a silent prayer, and started the engine. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw her mother wave at her to go. Then very slowly, she pressed down on the gas pedal.

The wheels spun and spun, making a horrible sound. Betty had been singing quietly, then suddenly started crying again, making it even worse.

Amanda was about to give up when, suddenly, the big vehicle lurched forward—and drove smoothly down the street a few yards in the right direction. She quickly stopped and looked in the mirror to see what had happened to her mother.

But Molly was nowhere to be seen.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” She turned to Mrs. Honeyfield, who quickly nodded, then she jumped out of the SUV again.

She saw her mother on the ground, trying to sit up, then falling back again. “Mom . . . are you all right? Here, let me help you.”

Amanda crouched down next to her mother. Her hood had fallen off, and her hair was plastered with icy rain. Her face and the front of her jacket were spattered with mud.

Amanda could tell from Molly’s expression that she was in pain. “Hurt my back . . . a little,” her mother grunted. “Help me up, my bottom is freezing off.”

Amanda did so willingly, pulling Molly up with her arm around her waist. They hobbled back to the SUV, and Molly clung to the back door. “You have to drive, okay?”

Amanda’s eyes widened. She had to drive? She rarely took this tank out, even in good weather. But she swallowed back her fear and nodded. “Okay, Mom, let me help you get in.”

Molly nodded and Amanda pulled open the back door. “Hi, sweetie, Mommy’s going to sit back here with you now.” Molly forced a cheerful voice as she maneuvered into a seat next to Betty.

Betty stared at her, wide-eyed. “Mommy, what happened to you?”

“I fell in a puddle. It was really yucky.”

Amanda was in the driver’s seat, fastening her seat belt, and heard Betty give a little giggle at Molly’s answer.
Thank You, God, for letting us get safely back into the truck,
Amanda silently prayed.
Now, if You could just help us get safely home . . .

She started the engine, feeling strangely calm, though the wind still roared ferociously, rocking the heavy vehicle from side to side, and icy rain lashed at the windshield.

While Amanda drove at a snail’s pace, Molly navigated from the backseat. They were not too far from Mrs. Honeyfield’s house and dropped her off a few minutes later. Then they headed home.

More low power lines and broken tree limbs were scattered all along the way, and Beach Road was blocked at one point with a huge downed tree; the branches seemed at least two stories high. Somehow, they managed to get around it, driving on some side roads without too much trouble. Finally, the house came into view. Amanda felt so relieved, she practically started crying.

A trip that usually took twenty minutes had taken two hours, Amanda realized. But she was never so relieved to turn up the driveway.

Molly had called Amanda’s father, who had told them their electricity was off, but he had somehow managed to get the garage open and they pulled in. He was waiting there, pacing back and forth. He eagerly helped Molly out of the vehicle, practically carrying her into the house.

Amanda took care of Betty. The garage was lit only by a camping lantern, and the house was dim as well. It wasn’t completely dark outside, but soon would be. Her father had built a fire in the fireplace and lit some candles, which Amanda found a comforting sight.

“Get out of those wet clothes,” her father told everyone. “Thank God you’re all home safe and sound. I was nearly out of my mind worrying about you out there. How in the world did you hurt your back, Molly? Did you try to push that SUV out of a ditch or something? Are you totally crazy?”

Her father, the epitome of a reasonable person, rarely got angry or even raised his voice. But he was on the verge of losing it now.

“Calm down, Matt. We had a little trouble. With a tree trunk.”

“Mom was very brave. She saved the day,” Amanda cut in, defending her mother. “She was a total hero.”

“Amanda helped, too. She had to drive us all the way from the village,” her mother told him.

Her father sighed and put his hands up. “All right . . . you’re all safe. That’s all that matters. I’m going to get you some pain relievers and a salve for your back. I hope it’s just a sprain.”

Molly was already stretched out on a couch in the great room, her wet, muddy coat a heap on the floor, her face still covered with grime. “That was my secret plan. I just want to be waited on until the storm is over. How long is it going to last, did they say?”

“Last I heard, until tomorrow morning,” Matt said, reappearing with the first-aid supplies. “I’ll put the radio on again in a second. I didn’t want to waste the batteries.”

It was odd not being able to just turn on the TV, Amanda realized. She couldn’t remember the last time they had to get their information from a radio. Her father turned it on, and the urgent tone of the all-news station filled the silence.

The reports were grim. The storm was enormous, sweeping up the East Coast and hitting all of New England. Hundreds of thousands of homes across three states were already without power. Cities and towns all along the coast were flooded, and it would get worse until the tide peaked later in the evening.

“We saw a boat in the street, Daddy,” Betty said suddenly.

“You did?” Amanda could tell from his tone that he didn’t quite believe her.

“Yeah, we did,” Amanda assured him. “Right on Main Street. It had come loose from its mooring and floated up from the harbor.”

“Holy cow . . . there was that much water on Main Street?”

Molly nodded, looking distressed. “A lot of stores on Main Street are going to have water damage. I just hope my shop isn’t completely flooded.”

“I hope so, too, honey. But we’ll just have to deal with it.” He shook his head and turned back to the radio.

Amanda had taken off Betty’s wet jacket and boots and was about to fix her a cup of hot cocoa, using a flashlight to maneuver around the kitchen. Unfortunately their stove ran on electricity, but her father had set up the camp stove on a counter. She got it going and set up a pot of water to heat. Her father had already fixed them a supper of some soup and sandwiches and even had plates out. She guessed they would eat by the fireplace and maybe play some board games, the way they often did during a big snowstorm.

“Can I have a marshmallow?” Betty asked in a small, quiet voice.

It was a little close to dinner for sweets. Even the cocoa was pushing it. But, Amanda thought, all things considered, her sister really did deserve a marshmallow. They all did.

“Sure, pal. You go for it.”

She smiled and turned back to the stove, pouring the boiling water into Betty’s favorite cup.

She said a silent prayer of thanks that she was in this warm, safe house with her family, back safe and sound from their perilous journey. She knew that so many people tonight could not say the same. No matter what dissatisfactions she had with her life right now, she knew in her heart she was truly and deeply blessed.

* * *

THE POWER HAD GONE OFF SHORTLY AFTER LILLIAN AND EZRA HAD
turned on the TV and watched a few minutes of news about the storm.

Lillian had almost been relieved when the screen suddenly went black and all the lights went out. The reports and pictures were very disturbing.

Emily had promised she would come as soon as she could. She was at the Village Hall and couldn’t leave at a moment’s notice to help them. She was the mayor, after all. She had to stay and do her job, tonight of all nights. People were evacuating their homes and going into emergency centers, and the police and fire departments were racing around, answering calls about power lines and fallen trees and other disasters.