Susanna's Dream: The Lost Sisters of Pleasant Valley, Book Two (10 page)

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Seth was already turning the car as he punched the button to shut the window, tires squealing on the wet, leaf-covered road. Jefferson was a good ten miles out of his way, and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t find the bridge closed when he got there. He did a quick search of his mental map and came up empty. It would be even farther if he took the interstate, and there was every possibility the exit there would be closed.

He snapped on the radio as he sped along the back road and found the local station in Oyersburg. They’d obviously switched to emergency mode, as the announcers gave up playing pop music to read off strings of closings and warnings that would only be comprehensible to people who knew the area. Apparently people were calling the station, reporting on a flooded street here or a bridge closing there. The local radio station was a lifeline at a time like this.

Listening to the string of reports, Seth felt cold fear growing. This was going to be bad—he was familiar enough with the Susquehanna River Basin to know it. The Hurricane Agnes flood in 1972 had supposedly been a hundred-year storm, but it sounded as if the next big one was arriving ahead of schedule.

Jefferson was hardly more than a hamlet. Seth slowed as he went through. Slicker-clad volunteers were evacuating families from the houses closest to the overflowing creek, loading belongings into pickups and people into cars. One family trudged along the road, probably heading for a neighbor’s house, the father carrying a toddler while the mother clung to the hands of two little girls.

Seth reached the bridge and braked. Maybe they were too busy with evacuations to post a man here. A yellow
DANGER
sign leaned drunkenly against a sawhorse, but it didn’t block the bridge. Still—

His breath caught when he took a good look. The water, brown with mud and impossibly high, surged within inches of the bridge deck. Tree limbs, brush, logs, and unidentifiable debris floated downstream. Already they were piling up against the bridge, adding their weight to the force of the water. The bridge would go; the only question was how soon.

If he didn’t get across now . . .

With a silent prayer, he stepped on the accelerator. He thought he heard a shout from behind him as he shot forward. His tires hit the bridge deck, and he felt it shudder, tremble, sway—

Then he was over. He sped up the hill on the opposite side, risking a glance in the rearview mirror. A massive tree stump hit the bridge. With a groan that he could hear even with the windows shut, the bridge broke apart, letting the stream flow on triumphantly.

Clenching his teeth, he sped on. Surely, by this time, Chloe would have realized the danger. But he couldn’t take that for granted. He had to see for himself. And what that said about his feelings for Chloe—well, he wasn’t ready to admit.

* * *

Curled
up in the corner of the living room sofa, Chloe grimaced at the computer open on the coffee table in front of her. She’d had good intentions of getting work done this rainy day, but it seemed everyone she knew had decided to call her.

So she didn’t get much work done. She’d had a nice long chat with Kendra, her closest friend and colleague at the museum from which she was technically on leave. Kendra had, as usual, been full of humorous gossip about the ins and outs of museum life, and they’d chatted endlessly about anything and everything.

With one exception. Chloe hadn’t mentioned Seth, and Kendra, with unusual tact for her, had respected that omission.

Chloe had still been smiling from Kendra’s call when the phone sounded again, but Brad Maitland’s voice had wiped the amusement from her face. Brad, a close family friend and a favorite of her grandmother’s, had been a sort of honorary uncle to her most of her life.

Brad had sounded grave, but then, when didn’t Brad sound that way? He was concerned about her grandmother, he’d said. She seemed to be failing, and he thought it was time Chloe came home. His tone had conjured up images of her imperious grandmother frail and weak, calling for her.

She’d nearly said she’d drive back at once, but she was only too aware that Gran wasn’t above using Brad for her own ends. She’d get a second opinion before she raced back to Philadelphia.

Her call to the house in Chestnut Hill was answered, as Chloe had hoped, by Nora, the housekeeper.

“Chloe, it’s nice to hear your voice.” Nora had known her since she was a baby and considered Chloe as much hers as Gran’s. “Are you having a good time? Are you eating enough?”

Chloe laughed at the familiar question. A spray of rain hit the window on the side of the cottage, loud enough to distract her for an instant. “I’m eating fine. My sister makes sure of it. How are you?”

“Can’t complain,” she said. “But you’ll want to talk to your grandmother.”

“Not yet,” Chloe said quickly. “How is she? Dr. Maitland called to say she wasn’t well. What’s wrong?”

“I wouldn’t say she’s sick, exactly.” Nora’s tone was cautious, reminding Chloe that, after all, Gram paid her salary, and it was to Gran that Nora’s first allegiance went. “Just a little more broody than normal.”

Chloe heard an imperious voice in the background, demanding to know to whom Nora was speaking. Nora responded soothingly, and in a moment Chloe’s grandmother came on the call.

“Chloe? Why were you talking to Nora?”

“Just asking how she is,” Chloe said. “And more to the point, how are you? Brad Maitland called to say I should come home, implying you were ‘failing,’ as he put it. You didn’t by any chance put him up to that, did you?”

“Failing?” Gran sounded outraged. “Nonsense. I’m perfectly fine.”

Oddly enough, that troubled Chloe. If her grandmother was attempting to manipulate her, she’d surely be more likely to plead illness.

“I’m glad to hear it. I was worried.”

“There’s no need to be.” Gran’s tone was tart. “Not that I wouldn’t be happy to see you give up this foolishness and come home where you belong.”

“Gran . . .” Did she really have to go over her reasons for being here again?

“Yes, I know, you’re writing a professional paper. But you could do that anywhere.”

“Susanna is helping me,” she said mildly, vaguely aware of an unusual level of noise from outside her cottage. “I’m settled here now. But I am thinking of coming for a short visit. Lydia suggested it,” she added.

Silence for a moment. “How is she?” Gran’s tone was grudging, but at least she asked the question.

“She’s blooming. Expecting another baby this winter, and they’re hoping for a girl this time.”

“And the other one? Susanna?” Gran asked the question in an offhand tone that didn’t fool Chloe.

“Doing better, I think. She’s getting used to the idea of having sisters.”

“Since they’re doing so well, there’s no reason you can’t come home.” That sounded more like Gran.

“I said I’d come for a short visit,” Chloe said, trying to hang on to her patience. “Maybe toward the end of the week for two or three days.”

“Two or three days?” Gran’s voice rose.

The noise, like a muffled roar, seemed to be coming from behind the cottage. She rose, carrying the phone, and walked toward the door that led onto the deck.

“I think—”

Her voice died as she looked out the back. The creek—the little stream that normally trickled musically over the rocks—had become a sullen, swollen brown torrent, slapping at the deck. The sound she’d heard was the roar of water, and it was amplified a hundred times, it seemed, when she slid the glass door open.

“I have to go, Gran,” she said quickly. “I’ll call you later.” She snapped off before her grandmother could protest and stuffed the phone in her pocket.

This was incredible. She could only stare, mesmerized, at the scene. Adam had mentioned something about the creek flooding, but she’d never imagined it could be anything like this.

She’d better get the deck furniture inside if she didn’t want to see it floating away. She stepped out onto the deck, feeling the boards beneath her feet vibrate to the roar of the water. She took another step, reaching for the nearest chair. The deck groaned.

“Chloe!” The slam of the front door punctuated the word, and Seth raced through the house toward her. “Get inside. Quick.”

“As soon as I get the chairs—”

An alarming crack cut off her voice. The deck swayed, the movement almost reluctant. And then the floor was collapsing under her, crumbling into bits, taking her with it—

Seth grabbed her arm, his fingers biting into her skin. Water, shockingly cold, swallowed her feet, pulling at her, dragging her away.

But Seth was stronger. He hung on to her arm, and she realized he was clutching the door frame with his other hand, stretching out over the chasm that had opened in front of him.

“Jump!” he cried, and even as he yanked, she leaped toward him. He grabbed her, both arms around her as they toppled back into the kitchen.

For a moment all she could do was bury her face in his jacket, while a wave of thankfulness for his presence warmed her. She turned back toward the door just in time to see the deck, with an agonized shriek, break away from the house and crumble into the creek.

Seth’s hands were strong on her arms. “What were you doing? A couple of deck chairs aren’t worth your life. Why haven’t you been answering your phone? I tried to call and warn you.”

The barrage of questions was angry, but under the anger, Chloe could feel his fear. For her.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. The owner’s going to be so upset. The whole deck is gone.” She still didn’t quite believe it even though she’d seen it.

“The deck’s the least of it,” Seth said, dragging her toward the front door. “Come on. You have to get out of here. The house might be next.”

“It couldn’t . . . could it?” The depth of his concern was beginning to sink in.

“It could. Don’t you listen to the radio? This whole end of town is advised to evacuate. Let’s go.”

She held back, pulling against him. “All right, but at least let me get my computer, my work . . . and what about my clothes?”

“Right.” Seth took a breath, seeming to settle himself. “I’ll get the computer and papers. You go pack a bag. But hurry. I don’t want to be here when the water starts coming in that back door.”

It was hard to believe that could happen, but a few minutes ago she’d have said it was impossible for the deck to be swept away. Rushing into the bedroom, she grabbed a suitcase and began throwing things into it.

Necessities for a few days, toiletries . . . surely she wouldn’t be gone longer than that. She snapped the suitcase closed. The rain would stop, the creek would go down, and things would return to normal.

“Let’s go.” Seth appeared in the bedroom doorway and took the suitcase from her hand. “I already put the computer and briefcase in your car. Once the car reaches the top of the hill it should be safe.”

Protesting that she wanted to take another look around would probably be futile. She followed him out, snapping the lock on the door. She moved out onto the sidewalk and stopped, shocked at the sight that met her eyes.

Up and down either side of the street, people were working for the most part in a silence that was more frightening than shouts would have been. Some loaded furniture and household goods into trucks and vans; others seemed to be carrying things up to the second floors of houses. All these people couldn’t just be the street’s residents. It looked as if half the town was here.

She pulled the hood of her jacket up against the pelting rain and turned to Seth. “It really is serous, isn’t it?”

He grinned at her, his face rain-wet. “You’re finally catching on. Now let’s go help your sister.”

Susanna.
Fear pierced Chloe’s heart. Susanna’s shop was just as vulnerable as the cottage was. They had to help her.

C
HAPTER
E
IGHT

S
usanna’s
throat was tight with anxiety as she stacked quilted place mats into a box. The water was rising. Incredible as it seemed, the shop was actually in danger of flooding. All her earlier worries over whether she could buy the shop faded away to nothing in comparison. If what folks were saying was true, there might not be a shop left to buy.

“I’ll put these upstairs, ja?” Dora’s daughter Donna was at her elbow, carrying a stack of paintings she’d taken from the walls.

Susanna nodded, feeling as if her thoughts were spinning out of control. “I think they should be safe there. I don’t know where else to put them.”

Donna hoisted the stack and headed for the steps. “Surely they’ll be all right on the second floor. I can’t believe the flooding will be as bad as they’re saying.”

Susanna couldn’t, either. “Best not to take a chance. It’s wonderful kind of all of you to komm help.”

Donna had arrived a half hour ago. She’d rounded up several other women from the church district, and they’d been boxing and carrying ever since.

“What would my mamm say if I didn’t?” Donna said, her freckled face breaking into her easy smile. “It was all we could do to keep her from coming, too.”

“I’m wonderful glad she didn’t.” Susanna shuddered at the thought of having Dora here to worry about, too.

“I convinced her it made more sense for her to watch the kinder while I came to help.” Donna started up the stairs, edging around another woman coming down. “Not that she can’t outwork all of us when she’s feeling herself.”

“That’s all the candles boxed up, Susanna,” Mary Lapp, one of Donna’s friends, called across the room to her. “What should I do next?”

Susanna looked around the crowded shop, overcome by a sense of helplessness. Usually she loved the cozy clutter of the place, but now she was faced with moving it or perhaps losing it.

She forced herself to focus. What would be damaged most by the water if it got into the first floor?

“I think the hooked rugs should go next,” she said, nodding to the colorful pile. “They’re heavy, so don’t try to take too many at once.”

The woman nodded, moving immediately to the task.

And speaking of heavy, she’d certainly loaded this box up, but she couldn’t waste time taking things back out, not with so much to do. She lifted it in her arms and headed for the stairs, her back aching from the effort.

Mary paused, a bundle of rugs in her arms, looking out the window. “Looks like they’re sandbagging the house across the street,” she said.

“Sandbags won’t do much gut, from what I’ve heard,” Donna said, coming back down for another load. “You can stop fire, but you can’t stop water.”

Susanna pushed herself on, not wanting any of the women to think she couldn’t do her share because of her limp. She heard the door open, turned to look, and missed a step, coming down hard on her knees.

In a moment Nate was next to her, shoving the box aside to help her up. “Are you all right?” His voice was gruff.

“I’m fine.” She could feel the color coming up in her cheeks. “I wasn’t looking where I was going is all.”

“You shouldn’t be carrying anything this heavy,” he scolded, as if she were a child or an elderly person. “Donna, you shouldn’t be letting Susanna do the heavy carrying.”

Donna looked stricken. “Ach, I’m sorry, Susanna. Let me take it.”

“I’m fine,” she said, embarrassed at having attention called to her disability. “I can manage.”

“There’s no need.” Nate lifted the box as if it were a feather. “What’s in here? Fabric? Better not to put it upstairs then.”

“Why not?” Embarrassment made her voice tart. “The water surely won’t be that high.”

“No, but if even a little gets in the ground floor, the damp will go up through the walls.” He turned, heading back down with the box, which forced her to follow him. “I’ve got the store truck and driver outside, and I brought a couple of other boys to help.”

“That’s wonderful gut of you—” she began, but he didn’t seem to be listening.

“Thomas, Matthew, start loading the truck. Anything that can be harmed by the water or damp should go. As soon as the sisters have a box loaded, you take it.”

The two teenage boys who’d followed him in nodded and set to work carrying boxes out the door. Both were Amish, and Susanna had seen them working at Nate’s store, although she couldn’t have put first names to them. An older man, Englisch, who was probably the driver Nate had brought, went outside to help load. In a moment, it seemed everything was moving at twice the speed it had been.

“I hadn’t even thought about the damp getting into things.” She wiped her hands on her apron, suddenly aware of how disheveled she must look. “There’s more stock upstairs that we didn’t even have on display. If we have to move all that, as well—”

“We’ll do the downstairs first, ja?” Nate said. “Then, if we have time, we can bring things down from upstairs.” He touched her arm lightly. “Don’t worry.”

She seemed to feel stronger for his touch, which was ferhoodled. “It will be as God wills,” she said. But surely it wasn’t wrong to hope the shop would be spared.

“All we can do is our best,” he said. Stacking up two boxes, he lifted them. “There’s enough space in my storeroom for all of it, and everything will be safe there.”

Before she could find the words to thank him, Nate was already out the door.

“My brother’s bossy,” Donna said. “But he means well.”

“I know.” Susanna flushed. “I mean, I know he means well . . .”

Donna laughed. “And he’s bossy. You’re too polite to say so, but I’m his sister, so I can.”

The door swung open again, this time to admit Chloe and Seth Miller. Chloe’s beautiful hair was bedraggled, and it looked as if her jeans were wet to the knees.

“Chloe, what happened? Are you all right?” Susanna hurried to clasp her sister’s hand, realizing it was the first time she’d done so.

“I’d be floating down the river by now if Seth hadn’t come along.” Chloe looked cheerful for someone who’d had such a near miss. “The creek took the deck right off the back of the cottage.”

There were murmured exclamations from the others.

“Thank the gut Lord you’re safe. Maybe you should see a doctor—”

“I’m perfectly all right. We’ve come to help. Just tell us what to do.”

“I see Nate brought a truck,” Seth said. “We have both cars out front, too, so we can load things in them.”

Susanna would protest, but she was too thankful. Besides, of course Chloe wanted to help. They were kin, after all.

One of the boys, either Thomas or Matthew, she wasn’t sure which, came to pick up another box. “I heard the creek bridge up at Summerdale is gone.” His eyes were wide, and Susanna realized there was fear mixed with his excitement. “Someone said the new flood walls upstream will send all the water down to us and swallow up the town.”

“Well, we’ll send you out on a raft, then.” Nate put a reassuring hand on the boy’s shoulder. “If there’s anything that moves faster than the water, it’s gossip. Go on, now.” He gave him a gentle shove toward the door.

“He’s afraid,” Susanna said softly. “Do you think that’s true? About the flood walls making it worse for us?”

“Probably.” Nate looked grim for a moment. “Everything has consequences, ja?”

Yes, everything did. She wasn’t sure how her little shop, precious as it was to her, weighed in the balance of all that might be lost.

“Susanna, if you have a broom or something else with a long handle, I could use it to get the baskets off the hooks.” Chloe nodded toward the array of egg baskets that hung from hooks in the ceiling.

“Ja, I’ll get it for you.” She was only a few steps from the basement door. She pulled it open and reached for the broom that was usually propped on the landing. It wasn’t there. And then she saw it, floating in the water that was already up to the top step.

She slammed the door shut, as if that would keep it out, and swung around. Nate, seeing her face, was there in a moment.

“What is it?”

“The cellar’s filled with water right to the top step. We should get people out—” She stopped, her voice choking at the thought of all that remained to do.

Nate took a quick look and then slammed the door shut, just as she had. His expression was grim.

“Take your last load out now. We have to go.”

“A little longer—” Chloe began, but her words were cut off by the sound of a siren out in the street.

The driver poked his head in the door. “Police are ordering us out. Telling everyone to get to higher ground now. The creek’s rising faster than anyone thought it could.”

There was a murmur of dismay, but no one argued. Grabbing what they could carry, people headed out the door.

Susanna looked at what was left—what would surely be lost—and felt as if her heart was breaking. “I’ll just get a few more—”

“No, Susanna.” Nate’s voice was kind, but his grasp on her arm was firm. “We must go. All of us.”

She pulled back against his grip for an instant, her vision blurring so that she couldn’t see his face clearly. Chloe came, putting her arm around Susanna’s waist.

“It’ll be all right,” Chloe murmured. “Come on.”

Susanna nodded. They were right. It was just so hard.

She stepped out onto the porch, automatically locking the door. How futile a gesture was locking up if she was going to lose everything?

The others were squeezing into the two cars and the truck. Susanna glanced down toward the lower end of the street and her breath caught. The street was submerged already, the current washing across it fast and powerful.

Nate touched her arm. “Look.” He was pointing toward the river, usually only a glint of water through the trees. Now it advanced across the fields, turning them into a rippling mirror. A shudder went through her. Surely this was what the world must have looked like to Noah just before it vanished under the waters.

A loud crack had all of them turning to look upstream at the creek. The red covered bridge, the subject of so many photos and paintings, cracked again as something they couldn’t see struck it from upstream. Almost in slow motion it lifted from its foundation and broke away. For a few minutes it seemed to hold together, floating downstream like an ark. Then it hit the tree line and began to crumple apart, just like Susanna’s life.

* * *

Chloe
put another box on the stack in the storage area at Nate’s store and straightened, rubbing her back. She’d have said she was in good shape, but a few hours of lifting and carrying had her muscles protesting.

She probably wasn’t the only one. The large rectangular room was filling up as people, some in Plain dress, some Englisch, stacked things wherever they could. Not just the contents of the shop, she realized as a couple of men passed her carrying a table between them. Nate must have offered storage room to others who had to evacuate. People were working quickly, racing the clock to beat the rising water.

Susanna paused in sorting the contents of a box to give her a wan smile. Chloe’s heart lurched. Her sister’s face was bleak, and she looked exhausted. Still, Chloe knew better than to try to get her to take a break. She’d already tried, as had Donna, but Susanna was quietly stubborn. She listened to what anyone had to say and then went her own way without fuss.

Movement near the door caught Chloe’s eye. Nate and Seth stood there, deep in conversation it seemed, and it struck her that there was something very similar in the way they stood and in their gestures, as if being Plain had set its mark upon them no matter how far away they strayed.

That was what she feared, she knew—that Seth was being drawn inevitably back to the life he’d once known. Caring for him could only lead to heartbreak.

The conversation seemed to come to an end. Seth nodded, grabbing a slicker from a stack of them that Nate had unearthed from someplace, and headed out the door. Without stopping to think, Chloe hurried across the room.

Nate had disappeared by the time she reached the door, so she couldn’t ask him where Seth was going. She snatched up a slicker and stepped out into the night.

The pelting rain forced her to pause long enough to yank on the slicker. Luck was with her—Seth had stopped to fasten his at the intersection of the store parking lot and the street.

“Seth!” She ran after him, half afraid he’d vanish into the storm before she could reach him.

But he heard her, because he turned, stopped, and waited for her to catch up with him.

“Where are you going?” She pulled the hood up as she spoke, despite the fact that her hair was soaked already.

“They’re calling for volunteers to help with the evacuation.” Seth’s face was grim. “It’s bad, Chloe. Worse than anyone expected. Nate’s heading down to the south end of town. They’re going door to door, trying to get people to leave. I thought I’d go back to the creek and see what help they need there.”

“I’ll go with you.” She snapped the slicker up around her neck.

She could see the reluctance in his face. “Don’t you think you’d better stay here with your sister?”

“There’s nothing else I can do for her.” She managed a smile. “I’m an able-bodied volunteer, right?”

His face relaxed into the smile that always charmed her. “Right. Let’s go.”

He started walking, and she fell into step beside him. The noise of the rain on the slicker set up an echo that was somehow disorienting, as if she’d wandered into an alien world. Maybe she had. They were all facing something completely out of their normal realm.

“You said they were evacuating the south end of town?” She made it a question as she tried to orient herself to directions. Susanna’s shop was at the east end, she knew, where Main Street sloped down a fairly steep incline to run parallel to the creek.

“Right. The south side is down toward the river, where the park is.”

She remembered from her first visit to Oyersburg, when she’d met Seth at the park and admired its charming setting along the river. “I thought the idea was that using the flood plain as a park set up a buffer for the town.”