Wake the Dawn (8 page)

She needed…she needed…she needed everything. Food, sleep, comforting. Everything. Wait. Comforting? Why did that come to mind? And not just comforting, either; a man’s hug. She was a liberated woman! She didn’t need a man’s hug! And she yearned for one.

She walked into the break room to find Ben digging baby supplies out of various boxes. “What are you doing?”

“Getting together some things to take the baby home with me.”

“You can’t do that.”

He stood and glared at her. “Look, she needs a home and you know Bo isn’t going to let her out of his sight, so we’re going home. They say there’s no damage to my house.”

She could tell he was trying to sound reasonable, but the squared-off jaw showed his real feelings. No doubt he was at the end of his rope same as she was at the end of hers. “Ben, listen to me. You’re in no condition to take care of this baby. You work a forty-hour week, you can’t leave her alone, you can’t be up all night, it wouldn’t work, do you understand? She has to go into the social services system and be put in foster care.”

“She has a foster home, with me and Bo.”

“No.” She pulled a deep breath. She wasn’t getting through and her mind was becoming more befuddled by the minute. “No, listen. Social services would not release a newborn to a man living alone. Little babies need constant attention at first. And if a service rep caught wind of an alcohol problem, they’d scrub you instantly. I’m sorry.”

“Okay, from this day forward no beer, no booze at all. I’m taking her.”

“
Why?
” She had to control herself. And she couldn’t. “Why are you so stubborn about this? It’s not your child!”

“I gave her life. The world’s worst mother tossed her under a bush and I—” His voice dropped. “I don’t know. I feel this intense—I mean, I have this intense feeling that I’m the one she needs. I can’t hand her off to strangers. She’s
my
responsibility. But it’s more than that. I can’t explain it.”

Esther knew there were probably more diplomatic ways of dealing with this, but all she could do was yell. She took a deep breath. “No, Ben, I won’t sign off on this one. The law is very clear. No. I can’t.”

His eyes had narrowed until they were mere slits. He dropped his voice. “You think I would put her in danger after all she has been through already?” The words wore diamond-cutting edges.

“And you think I would?” She fought to keep her own voice under control.

Ansel interrupted. “We were thinking of calling her Dawn, Esther.”

She knew he was trying to ease the tension, but it wasn’t working. “Dawn. That’s nice.”
Actually, it is nice.

“She’s coming home with me.” Ben made it sound final as he shoved a package of diapers in the box and grabbed another container of formula off the shelf. “What if you don’t have distilled water?”

“Boil some.” She grabbed his arm. “Listen to me!”

“You go ahead and fill out your paperwork to cover your…” He ground to a halt and stared at her hand clamped on his arm. With excruciating politeness, he removed her hand with his other and let it drop.

Dawn, who had been sleeping in Ansel’s arms, whimpered and squeaked before settling into a real, genuine baby’s cry.

“Now see what you did.” Ansel raised her to his shoulder and patted her back. “I just got her to sleep.”

“If she doesn’t come with me, what are you going to do? Put her on that chopper and let them leave her alone in the hospital?” Ben shook his head and tucked the edges of the boxes into each other to close the top.

Good question. Esther shoved her hands in her back pockets and stared at the floor. She glanced up to see Ansel and Beth each cuddling a baby.
Life goes on.
“You know for sure your house is beyond living in?”

Ansel nodded. “That’s what Chief said. And I saw that oak tree topple in my rearview mirror. Structural damage for sure, and who knows how much water damage.”

“Okay, I have an idea. Ben, are you listening?”

The glare he sent her could have melted a steel I-beam. He wheeled and went to the fridge.

She pressed on. “These people need a house, you have a house. You need help with Dawn, they have huge hearts to take care of you all. I can’t fill out the paperwork for a few days at least, so what do you say we all work together on this one?”

Beth interrupted. “That would be wonderful! With three of us, we can take turns sleeping and there will always be someone to take care of the babies. Sleep is the one thing you don’t get with a newborn.” She smiled at the infant in her arms, and then to the little girl on the pallet. The child had been up that morning, Esther knew, but she was again sleeping soundly.

Ben put a baby bottle in the microwave and pushed buttons. It began to hum.

Beth looked over at Ben. “We should be able to do this, we’ve been friends for a long time.”

Esther watched Ben and his internal war while trying not to seem obvious. She glanced down at Bo, who was watching each of them in turn, as if he understood every word they said. As well he might; she figured his vocabulary ranked pretty high on the dog charts. When Dawn didn’t quiet back down, the pooch lurched to his feet and walked over to stand by Ansel, as if ready to do whatever was needed to make her stop crying.

She almost giggled. “It’s all right, Bo. You know he’s a friend.”

“But I have his baby and he’s not taking any chances.” Ansel took the warmed bottle that Ben handed him. “I think Bo and baby don’t like loud noises.”

Dawn latched onto the nipple and filled the silence with her sucking noises.

Bo laid back down, nose on his paws, and watched Ben to see what they were to do next.

Everyone watched Ben.

He tipped his head back and blew out a heavy breath. “All right, if this is what it takes, so be it. Dawn will
not
be going into the social services system. Period. End of discussion. We’d probably never see her again, and I need my dog.”

Ansel nodded and turned to Esther. “Can we get enough diapers for two? Our store at home might be pretty wet by now.”

Esther heaved a sigh of relief to match Ben’s. “This will be good.”
Please Lord, let it be so.

Chapter Eight

W
e appreciate this, Ben.”

Ben nodded. They’d driven less than a mile and the destruction was beyond imagination. Roofless houses, collapsed garages, uprooted trees; were it not for the few remaining street signs, he’d hardly even know where they were. His tires whispered hoarsely through a heavy carpet of leaves, twigs, and branches.

“Someone said the west side of town was hit worst.”

Ben nodded again, carefully navigating his SUV around the top of a downed tree. Someone had moved it enough to clear the road. How could his house still be standing? But he saw it ahead, since so many trees were stripped or knocked down. Three old houses still standing in a line as if the wind had sheared around them, like some capricious child at play.

“Oh, my…” Ansel’s mouth hung open, his head shaking like a bobblehead figure.

Ben realized he was doing the same. The house his father had built those many years ago. He always said if you did it right, it would last; even he could not have predicted an anomaly like this. When he first moved back home Ben had buried the power lines from the street to the house, despite the long driveway. His father accused him of being mad. But if the entire town had buried the power lines, they might not be in the fix they were in. And if the entire town had chosen to push for the hospital, those who died in this might not have.

The rage that had been simmering ever since Allie was killed made him clench his teeth. His only panacea was now off limits. The fight made him churn, too, when it was time to sign Dawn out of the clinic, out of Esther’s immediate care. How in heaven’s name had she drawn that promise out of him, his word that he wouldn’t drink at all while he had the baby, lest it get away from him? It could drive a man to drink.

He glanced in the rearview mirror where Beth held Dawn in her arms. Her own baby lay sound asleep, and their two-year-old sat in her child’s seat, sucking her thumb. Perhaps that was what the grown-ups needed to do, too. He slowed and stopped in the street; a tree lay across his driveway. So close and yet so far.

“I think you can push through that.” Ansel leaned forward to peer through the rain-rivered windshield. “You want me to get out and see?” He reached for the door handle.

“No, stay put.” Ben shifted into four-wheel drive and eased forward. A branch scraped across the windshield, catching the wiper on the passenger side.

Bo whined from the back of the vehicle. He was not happy banished to behind the seats, but kept his nose on the seat next to Beth’s shoulder, as close to his baby as possible.

The engine growled, but the elm gave in and let itself be pushed off to the side, so it now lay more or less beside the drive. Had they needed to, they could have hiked to the house, but now they’d be able to better protect the babies from the elements.

“Thank you, God,” Beth murmured from the backseat.

If God had been protecting like He promised, Ben’s life would not be as desolate as the destruction. Nor would the town look like this. A memory flicked through, of Esther disappearing into who knew where. Looked like PTSD to him; he’d seen it too often to not recognize it. But what could have gone on in her life to cause something like that? Far as he knew, she’d never been in the service.

He let himself in the side garage door and pulled the red rope disconnecting the electric opener. He shoved mightily, raising the door by hand. Ansel had taken the driver’s seat. He pulled it in. Ben pulled the door down. They’d made it. “I’ll go open the doors and make sure…”

“I’m coming with you.”

Ben shrugged. “Let’s go then. Bo, stay.”

“Apparently he isn’t interested in leaving.” Beth stroked her daughter’s hair.

“Daddy?” The panic in the child’s voice was not surprising.

“Daddy will be right back, it’s okay.”

Without listening for more, Ben opened his door and then kept it from slamming. Beth didn’t need three crying babies, that was for sure. Ansel came around the front of the vehicle and followed him to the back door.

Inside, only the pounding rain echoed in the empty house. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find neighbors or strangers there, seeking asylum after their own houses disappeared.

Ben looked around. No water spots. “I’m going to start the generator. If you want, start the fire in the stove, help take the cold out of here faster.”

For use in case of power outages, especially winter power outages, Ben had installed a wood-burning stove in the living room. In fact, Ansel had helped him put it in. For a change he had done something right, always kept the wood box full and kindling, too, and the fire laid. All Ansel had to do was strike the match.

“Okay.” Ansel sounded almost cheerful.

Another miracle. The basement was still dry. He’d been thinking he might have to wade through water, but no. Again, his father’s fine building skills had done their job. Three tries and the generator kicked over, chattered—and died. He swallowed a choice curse word and hit the starter again. “Come on, come on.” It ground, groaned, and sighed. He waited, hearing his father’s voice, reminding him to be patient. Machines needed time to adjust. Ben stared around the basement. Had he been home, this was where he would have waited out the storm. He and Allie and that baby she’d been finally carrying. He slammed the flat of his hand against the concrete wall. The sting on his palm reminded him to not hit the starter but to push it in firmly yet gently, like he was supposed to. He held it in to the count of nine, when the engine coughed and settled into the steady thrum that almost made him cry. Something was finally going right.

His father would have said
thank you, Lord
. At one time, Ben would have, too. Leaving the generator and memories of his father down in the basement, he flipped the switch that would send power to the rest of the house. At the base of the stairs, he paused and listened for the freezer. While yesterday seemed an eternity long, the power had not been out long enough to defrost either that one or the refrigerator upstairs. They better check the milk, though.

When he returned to the kitchen, Ansel was helping Beth and the babies in from the SUV. Bo padded right beside Beth, watching her carefully. Ansel carried his brand-new son and shepherded Natalie with the other hand.

“Here, give me the baby and you help her.” Ben wiggled a finger toward the two-year-old. He took the well-wrapped bundle of joy, and Ansel picked up his daughter.

“Go home, Daddy, wanna go home.”

“I know baby, we all do, but right now we are going to stay with Uncle Ben.”

“No! Go home.”

Beth leaned her rear against the kitchen counter, the sink right behind her. “Power and all, how blessed we are. Thank you, Ben. So…how would you like us to do this?”

“First of all, why don’t you sit down and we’ll figure it out.” Allie would have had a fit if she saw the state of their house right now, and company here. Not that Beth and Ansel were company, more like family. The two couples had done everything together.

“I don’t have any baby things.” He followed her into the living room. When she eased down on the sofa—she had to move some dirty clothes aside to make room—he started to hand her the bundle he was carrying, but she still had Dawn. Natalie climbed up next to her mother, all the while giving Ben the eye, as if this were all his fault. “You know the bedrooms are upstairs. I kept the downstairs one as the TV room.” And it was the worst mess of all.

“Perhaps we could do the drawer thing for both of the babies. You have something like that?”

“Sure. The guest room has a queen-size bed and…” The bundle in his arms started to squeak.

Beth laid Dawn on the sofa on her other side and reached for the baby. Bo sat with his nose next to the still-sleeping infant.

“I’ll bring in the rest of the stuff.” Ansel left.

“We’ll need to figure out a way to keep Natalie from falling down those stairs.” Beth looked around the room. “We could lay a couple of those dining room chairs, one at the top and one at the bottom.” She yawned. “I know you need sleep desperately, Ben, and so do I. So I think we might give Ansel the first watch.”

Ben caught the yawn from her and his nearly cracked his jaw. He ought to be the cheerful host. He was a zombie. “Ansel can find what you need, right? The linen closet is in the hall by the bathroom. That bed hasn’t been changed since I don’t know when, but no one’s slept in it. Clean sheets and towels. Gas water heater, so we have hot water.”

“Go to sleep, Ben. We’ll be fine.”

He recognized the tone of her voice as the same one she used to soothe her little daughter, but at the moment he was beyond caring. He stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Coming, Bo?”

Bo thumped his tail and, as if shrugging, turned back to his watch.

“Wake me when it’s my shift.” Ben used the railing to half pull himself up the stairs, fell on his bed, and knew no more.

When a cold nose flipped his palm up, waking him, he blinked and stared at the clock. Seven. But looking out the window, he had no idea if that was
A.M.
or
P.M
. “Good dog.” He stroked Bo’s head and waited for memories to return. For a change he did not have a thundering headache and the phone was not ringing. Should he be at work already or—? Or! He had a baby now. And people living here and two babies and…Yesterday rolled back through his mind like the nightmare it had been. Had Dawn needed him and he’d slept right through it? Wouldn’t that prove to Esther he was not a fit father for her?

“Why’d you let me sleep like that?” He sat on the edge of the bed and scratched his head.

Bo cocked his head and gave him a doggy grin.

“Well, you’re sure in a good mood. How’s our baby?”

Bo headed for the doorway, then turned to look over his shoulder as if to make certain Ben was up.

“I’m coming.”

He filled a basket with dirty laundry on the way to the kitchen. Wait. Shouldn’t run the washing machine on the generator. He’d take the load down anyway. When he got to the head of the stairs, he heard laughter, both adults and a child’s high-pitched giggle. He found them around the small table in the kitchen, with Natalie sitting on a stack of phone books. Lots of phone books; small town.

“The coffee is still hot.” Beth smiled at him. “I hope you slept well.”

“Slept. I think I died.” Ben poured himself a mug of coffee and leaned back against the counter. “Sure smells good in here.”

“I’ll fix you a plate.” Ansel pushed his chair back. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Over easy. But I can do my own.”

“I know, but I’m getting to know your kitchen. Sit down.”

Surprised, Ben did as he was told. “What happened to taking turns, shifts?”

Beth seemed cheerful, too. “Well, we did. I slept for a while, then while I fed Nathan here, who thinks his meal should be more than it is yet, Ansel went to sleep. Dawn was awake for a while. If she so much as kicks her feet, Bo will come and get you. He’s worse than an old man.”

“Is she sleeping now?”

“Just got her back down. Most babies take a morning nap.”

“I not a baby.” Natalie stared across the table at him, then gave her mother a line of gibberish that left Ben wondering if his hearing was going out.

Beth handed her daughter the last piece of bacon and Natalie munched away, never taking her gaze off Ben.

“Did anyone try to wake me?”

“Bo did, but when he came back down, I swear he was shaking his head.”

“I don’t even remember that. No one called from the office?”

“Nope. But then the phone lines are down, no dial tone. The tower is back in business. I used my cell to call my mother and make sure they were all right and let them know where we are.”

If his cell had shrieked at him, surely he would have heard it. And Bo would have persisted. “I better call in.” He pulled his cell out of the holster and groaned. Dead. He’d forgotten to plug it in.

Ansel shook his head. “We did the same. Plugged it in this morning so if you want, you can use it.” He set a plate in front of Ben and his cell, too.

“Do we have power yet?”

Ansel frowned. “I don’t remember. Is your generator set to shut down when the power comes on?”

“Yes, but there is a slight pause. A long flicker.”

“Then no, at least I don’t think so, but I haven’t taken time to go down there and check. How big is your fuel tank?”

“Diesel and fifty gallons, so we’re in good shape.” Ben fell to eating and listened while Ansel brought him up to speed.

“They hope the river crested, it stopped raining about three
A.M.
, no flooding so far, but the high water has cut pretty far into the bank on the other side, that bend on the far side downstream of the bridge. Talk of closing it.”

“You’ve been on the police band?” Ben spread jam on his toast. He had his base radio set up in the living room, and thanks to the generator they had access to the news that way. He picked up Ansel’s cell and punched in the numbers of the border patrol. He had to stop and think, since he had his phone set on speed dial and never dialed the number any longer. “Did anyone mention the WiFi towers?”