The Way of Women (27 page)

“Focus on something else,” she ordered herself, not even recognizing her fractured voice. “Think of Lissa. Mellie. They are far worse off than you are.”

“You are the God of miracles. All I want is a miracle.” She dug in her pocket for a tissue, but even that was denied her. “I’ve gone to church all my life, and now when I really need You …”

She shook her head. “What’s the use.” Taking her briefcase from the backseat, she exited the car, locked the doors, and lifted her suitcase from the trunk. A hot shower would indeed be welcome. Maybe she could drown her sorrows.

She dropped her things and clutched her middle.
Drown
. Her mind leaped back to the morgue and the ghastly sight she’d seen there.
Oh, God, not drowning. What a horrible way to die. Please not drowning
.

She sucked in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and entered the gymnasium. From across the room, a salty voice announced her arrival, peppering it with several profanities.

“Why, I never—” Katheryn wheeled around, ready to lambaste such rudeness. And swearing like that—there were children here.

“Gimme a kiss, baby.”

She glanced around to see half the people at the tables looking her way, most of them chuckling or at least grinning.

She plunked her suitcase by the door, setting her briefcase atop it.

“Don’t be such a sourpuss. C’mon and gimme a kiss.”

“Adolf, stop that.” An elderly woman stood up, and at that moment Katheryn saw the bird cage. A cage not half big enough for the brilliant red Macaw parrot that was shifting from one foot to another.

“A bird, it’s a bird.” She clapped one hand to her chest and shook her head. “I thought …”
No wonder everyone’s laughing
.

“Sorry, when he’s upset, he reverts back to what his previous owners taught him. If I’d known he had such a foul vocabulary, I’d not have taken him in.” The woman threw a sheet over the cage. “And this is just too small for him. Perhaps tomorrow I can locate a larger cage.”

Katheryn joined her at the cage. “Is he mean, too?”

“No, just sounds like it. He loves to cuddle and have someone stroke under his wings. If you like, I’ll bring him out later.”

“I’d love that. I’ve always wanted an African Gray parrot. Ever since I read an article in
Reader’s Digest
called ‘I love you, Mrs. Pat.’ ”

“I read that too. People think birds are just dumb animals, but these guys can really think. He never asks for a kiss except when he sees a woman.”

“He’s sure beautiful.”

“There’s a place over by me. Get your tray and come sit down.”

Katheryn had just seated herself when the two children from the night before came over.

“Did Lissa go home?” the boy asked.

“No, she’s in the hospital.”

“Is she dying?” His little sister’s eyes saucered.

“No. They gave her a transfusion.” At their questioning eyes, she added, “Some new blood. She has a disease called leukemia.”

“Poor little thing.” The parrot lady laid her hands in her lap. “I had a cousin died of leukemia. Hear they’ve learned lots of ways to help folks get well again since then.”

“Yes, we’re hoping and praying that happens for Lissa.”

“Bye.” The two ran off.

“Cute kids. But I’ll let you eat in peace.”

“No, I need … ah … I’m Katheryn Sommers.”

“Attie Hartwell. I used to live up in Toutle, but I saw my house go
floating down the river on the television, so who knows where I live now. Got me and Adolf out, the rescuers did. I’ll thank God for them the rest of my life. Came right in the second-story window and took me and Adolf right out. Good thing his wings were clipped, or he’d a been lost for good. He clamped his claws into my shoulder all right, made ’em bleed, but I lost my husband two years ago in a logging accident, and Adolf is the only family around here I got left.”

“No children?”

“One on the East Coast, one in Atlanta. They want me to come live with them, but this area’s been my home all my life. Why would I want to go traipsing off across the country? The land will still be there. I can always build a new house.”

Katheryn propped her elbows on the table and her cup in both hands. “You are very brave.”

“No, not brave, about the biggest coward you ever did see, but God has taken care of me all my life. Why would He stop now?”

“You think losing all you owned and your husband dying was God taking care of you?”

“Ah, honey, those kinds of things happen to all of us at one time or another. People die when it’s their time, and my Bill, I know he’s lots happier where he is now. Why, if he still walked this earth, he’d be fussin’ and stewin’ ’cause his tractor was gone. He worked on restoring that tractor ten years or more. His baby …” She shrugged, her faded eyes lit with something Katheryn could not identify. “And he’s so busy up there, that tractor don’t mean nothin’ to him now.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Why would anyone worry about an old tractor when he’s living in the light of heaven? He’s probably took Jesus fishin’ by now.” Attie patted
Katheryn’s arm. “Sorry, here I go on about me, and you’ve not told me nothin’ about yourself, except for your name.”

“I live in Seattle, I have—had—have two sons and a daughter. Susan is pregnant with our first grandchild. My husband, David, is a professor at the University of Washington.”

“And who did you come down here to wait for?”

“David and our younger son, Brian. They went camping.”

“Near the mountain?”

“Yes.” On the mountain, near the mountain, what difference did it make? “So far, no one has seen them.”

“They are still finding survivors.”

“I know.”

“Not knowing has to be the hardest part.”

All the noises of families and children and babies, old men, old women and those in between, most displaced from their homes, with staggering losses, facing the unknown, just like her, receded as she stared into Attie’s sweet face.

“You are not alone.” Her voice came gently across the void.

“Feels that way, though my mind knows differently. I cannot bear the thought of …” She sucked on her bottom lip, teeth worrying the tender flesh.

“You needn’t bear it.”

“I know, think of something else, others who are worse off than I …”

“I only know one way, and that is Jesus. His name is the most powerful word in our world. I say His name, over and over, whenever things get so heavy and deep I cannot bear them. I say that name above all names until I can sing it. Only one word, easy to remember.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Simple but never easy.” She took Katheryn’s hands in her own, hands knobbed by arthritis and softened by love. “I’ll be praying for you.”

And Katheryn, looking deep into the faded eyes, knew she would. “Thank you. I hope He hears you better than He hears me.”

“Oh, He hears you, all right.” Attie’s fingers caressed Katheryn’s cheek, feather light and burning deep. “You listen and look. He’s here.”

“Mrs. Hartwell, could you take Adolf out of the cage, please. He’s lonesome,” one of the children pleaded.

“Why, yes, I’ll do that.” Attie stood and laid a hand on Katheryn’s shoulder. “You want to come meet my friend?”

“I’d love to, but I need to go call my son and daughter. Another time, perhaps.”

The older woman traipsed across the room to show off the bird to the children. Katheryn didn’t have to wait to use the phone. It seemed like the shelter wasn’t nearly as full as it had been the day before.
Perhaps some of these people have found their loved ones
, she thought.
Oh God, let me be one of them
.

“Hi, Mom. What have you heard?”

“Nothing. Not a thing.”

“How about if I come down there so you can come home?”

Home, her yard, her office, an empty house. “Thanks, but I’ll stay. I’ve met a young mother and her little girl. At least I can help someone here. They need me. And besides, I might hear something anytime.”

“We need you too, you know.”

She could hear the gruff fight against tears in his voice. “Lucky knows something is wrong; she’s under my feet every minute.”

“Poor girl. Give her an extra treat.”

“She misses you. Grandma’s called half a million times. Can’t you call her?”

“I will, tomorrow. It’s too late now.”
She’s the last person I want to talk to. Besides, what can I tell her—nothing. And right now, I don’t want to hear about Bernie. I just cannot handle one more thing
.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow. ’Night. I love you, son.”

“I love you too, Mom. Come home soon.”

He sounded more like six than twenty-four. Katheryn turned from the phone and went back to retrieve her things. The noise echoing off the walls made her head ache.

That does it. I’m going for earplugs
.

When she returned from a drugstore near the hospital, she put the soft foam forms in her ears and, taking out pad and pen, tried to write.

Brandy would not play. The dialogue was stilted, no action and humor, what a joke. She’d do better to write a murder scene. Not for a children’s book, that was for sure.

As soon as they dimmed the lights, she left off adding up her checkbook and slid under the covers.
Be grateful you have a bed
, she reminded herself. Would someone please take care of that baby?
David, where are you? God, where are You?

Y
ou look like death warmed over.”

“Glad I can’t say the same for you.” Frank stared at her through eyes glazed by only two hours sleep, and that on the cot in his office. Never had he seen such confusion as in the three days since the mountain blew. Three counties involved, with all their services, National Guard, state government, private companies, and people taking things into their own hands to search for survivors, pets, livestock, family keepsakes. Besides all the activity of a mountain that could blow again at any moment and a debris dam at Spirit Lake that threatened more death and destruction.

“Been bad, huh?”

“You can’t begin to know the half of it. I hear you’re helping Mrs. Sedor.”

Jenn nodded. “How about that cup of coffee I promised you?”

“Now?”

“I’d say we both could use one.”

“We’d better take my car. Sig doesn’t like pickups. We’d crowd him.”

“You aren’t on duty?”

“I’m supposed to be going home to sleep.”

“I’ll take a rain check, then. Get some rest.”

“No. You can leave your truck there in the public parking lot.”

This time Sig greeted her with a slight wag of his tail and no lip lifting.

“He likes you. Backseat, Sig.”

“I like him. One of these days he may even let me pet him.” She slung her backpack in first and climbed in the Blazer. The odor of alcohol made her wrinkle her nose. “You keep it with you, eh?”

Frank started the engine and slammed the truck into reverse, rear wheels spitting gravel. “Anybody ever tell you to mind your own business?”

She stared at him as he checked both ways for traffic. Bloodshot eyes, new creases on top of old, slightly gray around the gills, and in the close confines, she could smell the booze on him too. The old adage, rode hard and put away wet, would be a compliment to the condition he was in.

“How about I drive you home?”

His jaw tightened. “Coffee or nothing.”

Jenn nodded. “Pigheaded as ever.”

“Jenn, I’m too tired to argue or play games. Now, can I have the coffee without a sermon or not?”

“Guess if you want to crucify or kill yourself, that’s up to you. Huh, Sig?”

She turned enough to look over her shoulder at the dog, who looked back, tongue lolling and the tip of his tail brushing the seat. “You know, you are one handsome fella.”

Both ears pricked, he stared at her.

“I swear he understands every word I say.”

“Not only what you say, but he reads your body language, your scent, and most likely knows what you had for breakfast too.”

“His sense of smell is that good? Even if I haven’t had breakfast?”

“Yes.” He flicked on his turn signal.

“How long you had him?”

“Five years. He was a year when I got him.” He parked his truck and opened the door. “You coming?”

When she reached for her backpack, he added, “You don’t need that in the restaurant.”

“You never know.” She slung it over her shoulder. “See ya, Sig.”

Frank slid into a booth and waved away a menu. “The usual.”

“Thank you.” Jenn accepted hers and took the seat opposite. “What’s the usual?”

“Two eggs over easy, burn the bacon and hash browns, wheat toast.” The waitress’s badge read
ROSIE
. “Oh, and an entire carafe of coffee. The blacker the better.”

Frank set his broad-brimmed hat on the seat beside him and slicked his hair back with both hands.

“You look God-awful, Frank.” Rosie plunked the carafe on the table.

“And a happy day to you, too.”

“Not too many having happy days around here. Some guys came in, can’t get their ships out, real unhappy campers.” Rosie shook her head. “Ships, loggers, sportsmen, you oughta hear them complaining. You’d think The Lady did this just to spite them.”