Joshua's Mission Read online

  “Probably not.”

  “What if it does happen?” She persisted.

  “When the rain stops, we’ll put it up again.”

  She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide with fear and surprise and hope. “Do you promise, Charlie? Do you promise you’ll put our house back up again?”

  He’d learned over the years not to make promises that he couldn’t fulfill, but he vowed to himself in that moment that no matter what happened on the island, he would find a way to reconstruct Shelley’s home. A child needed at least that much. Every child, from the very young to teenaged, needed to know that they would have a place to come back to, no matter what happened. Usually their parents were able to provide that security, but Georgia hadn’t even returned Alice’s call. Maybe she didn’t realize how serious the storm was. Maybe her cell phone was lost and she hadn’t received the message. Maybe where she lived there were no national news channels. Or maybe she didn’t care.

  Either way, Shelley and C.J. were depending on their grandmother, and Alice was depending on Charlie.

  “Do you promise?” Shelley asked again.

  “Yeah, I promise. Now I’d better get busy putting up this plywood.”

  “But there aren’t even any clouds in the sky.”

  He glanced up and out toward the gulf—something he found himself doing every few minutes. If there was impending doom headed their way, it seemed as though he would be able to see it.

  “Not yet. So let’s get busy.”

  Shelley and Quitz both followed him around for another ten minutes, and then Shelley hurried off when she saw her grandmother loading boxes in the car. “Did you remember Bear? We have to take him.”

  Alice squatted down and said something to the little girl, who nodded once before running back into the house. The diner had closed until the storm passed, as had the schools. Mustang Island officials were assuring everyone that the mandatory evacuation was proceeding smoothly. They also reiterated that every single person had been ordered off the island.

  Charlie had turned the news channel on as soon as he’d risen, well before first light. Though the evacuation route was crowded, the traffic was getting through and there were no reports of price gouging as far as gasoline.

  Folks needed to go farther inland than Corpus Christi, so they traveled northwest—an hour to Mathis or two and a half hours to San Antonio. Charlie had contacted Bill and Ann days ago when the possibility of a Port A hurricane landing was still slim. Bill had said they would be happy to provide a place for Alice and the kids. Ann was already freshening up the guesthouse that was a finished part of their barn.

  Staying in Bandera would keep them out of the city, where hotel prices were bound to be at a premium. More importantly, Charlie knew that Bill and Ann would provide the kind of peaceful refuge the kids would need. There would be no twenty-four-hour news channels blaring in the living room. No, they would keep the kids busy with odd chores on the little ranch and entertain them with the few horses Bill kept.

  “Promise me you’re right behind them, Charlie.” Ann’s voice was stern. He could hear the worry in it.

  “I promise. There are a few folks I need to check on, but I’ll get off the island in plenty of time.”

  Quitz plopped on the ground as Charlie adjusted his ladder and boarded over another window.

  C.J. had been picking up everything out of the backyard and storing it in the garage that wasn’t big enough to hold their car. The house was not well constructed, and paint was peeling off one of its sides. The neighborhood irked Charlie. Why hadn’t they done more to minister to it? His church was always sending mission groups to other countries. Why didn’t they send them down the road? Why was Alice living here, anyway? She deserved better, and so did the kids.

  When he and Madelyn had bought their place forty years ago, the price of land and of houses had been reasonable. Now, an ordinary family couldn’t afford anything but the ramshackle two-bedroom wooden structures like the one Alice lived in. It wouldn’t take a Category 4 to demolish this neighborhood—a solid Cat 3 would have the same effect.

  He continued working his way around the house, grateful that he was able to help in some small way. If the island suffered a direct hit, the boards would do little to protect the house. But seeing the plywood go up over their windows somehow made Alice and Shelley and C.J. feel better about leaving their things behind, and that made his labors worthwhile.

  C.J. appeared at his side as he was covering the last window. His brown hair was just a little too long, obscuring his vision and curling at the collar of his shirt. When he glanced up, Charlie noticed the freckles across his nose. Still a kid in spite of the big feet that hinted at the man he would soon become.

  “The guys at school were all talking about the storm.”

  “Were they?”

  “Most of what they said made no sense. I think they were mainly trying to scare the younger kids.”

  “Huh.”

  “But some of the guys were pulling up pictures on their phones of Hurricane Allen.”

  Charlie wondered about that, fourth grade kids walking around able to access any information they wanted, whether they needed to see such things or not. “That one hit in August of 1980.”

  “You were here.”

  “I was.”

  “Was it… was it as bad as those pictures looked?”

  Charlie stowed the hammer in his toolbox, handed the box to C.J., and picked up his ladder. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to grow up not knowing your father and having your mother dump you at Nana’s. He tried not to judge others. Folks had their reasons, and he couldn’t pretend to understand what today’s young people dealt with. But he did recognize a scared kid when he saw one.

  Quitz jumped up and walked with them back toward his truck.

  “Allen was bad,” Charlie admitted. “Mostly because of the wind.”

  “Over one hundred?”

  “Yes. If I remember right, closer to one hundred thirty down in Port Mansfield.”

  “What about here?”

  “Corpus withstood a lot of wind damage.” He didn’t mention the tornadoes that Allen had spawned. They had traveled north and done extensive damage in Austin. C.J. didn’t need to know that. He had enough to worry about.

  Charlie lowered the tailgate on his truck, and C.J hoisted up the toolbox, pushing it deep into the truck bed. Charlie added the ladder and Quitz began to whine. “Front seat, girl.” The dog readily jumped in when Charlie opened the passenger door.

  “The pictures they showed had trees blown over, and roofs… roofs completely gone, and some houses wiped away.”

  “I imagine those photos were taken in Port Mansfield. The storm surge… do you know what a storm surge is?”

  “Waves, wind, and tide. Our teacher talked about it in school.”

  “All right. Well, the storm surge in Port Mansfield was more than twelve feet high.”

  “Twelve feet?”

  “Yup. That would be… ” Charlie glanced toward the front of the house where Alice and Shelley were coming out the front door. “Almost to your roofline.”

  “Holy cow.”

  “Which is why it’s important for you and Shelley and your grandmother to get off the island.”

  “What about you?”

  “I have a few things left to do. I’ll be a couple of hours behind you.”

  They walked over to the little car Alice drove. The trunk barely closed, it was so full. Bags of clothing, a box of family pictures and important documents, and an emergency supply kit filled the back seat. The supply kit held things like food, water, flashlights, and extra batteries, plus a weather radio that could be recharged via a hand crank on the side. Charlie had bought them many of the items in that box over the years, with the fervent prayer that they would never need to use them. A small spot behind Alice’s seat had been left empty for Shelley. C.J. would ride up front beside his grandmother.

  “I appreciate your doi
ng this, Charlie.” Alice swiped at her hair, trying to keep it from blowing in her face. She also glanced continually out toward the gulf.

  “Not a problem. Neighbors take care of neighbors.” He helped Shelley into the car, carefully buckling her and Bear into the backseat.

  When C.J. had settled into the front seat, Alice walked with him back to the truck.

  “Get them off the island, Alice. Get to Bandera. Don’t stop if you don’t have to. Just keep driving.”

  “What about you?” She swiped again at her hair. The winds had increased considerably in the last hour, and Charlie expected the clouds would begin to build up any minute.

  “I’ll make the last ferry out.”

  “I just hate to… ” She waved at the small frame house tucked in a row of small frame houses. Charlie could tell by the look in her eyes that she realized it would not survive even an indirect hit by Orion.

  “I hate to leave everything.”

  “You’re not.” He put a hand on each of her shoulders. Though only forty-eight, Alice looked older. The last few years had taken their toll, as had the shifts at the diner. “You have the kids.”

  “You promise you’re coming, Uncle Charlie?” C.J. had rolled down his window and was half hanging out of it.

  “Yeah, kid. I’m coming.” He squinted at his old truck. Quitz was leaning against the passenger door, her head stuck out the window. She and C.J. looked comically alike. “I want to check on a couple more people, and then I’ll be out of here.”

  “Thank you, Charlie.” Alice threw her arms around his neck, hugged him tightly, and then abruptly turned away. He watched as she hurried to the little Dodge Neon and climbed into the driver’s seat. Once she was buckled, she started the engine. They all waved at Charlie.

  He waved back and stood waiting, watching them until he was satisfied they had joined the queue of cars on the main road. The ferries were working overtime, taking folks over to the mainland. It was still a faster route than the bridge on the south end of the island. Also, by taking the ferry she would come out to the north and east of Corpus, bypassing a portion of the scores of folks who were leaving.

  The evacuation had been orderly as far as Charlie had been able to tell. They would get off the island just fine, and if Alice drove straight through they would be in Bandera before dark. What was normally a three-hour drive would probably take them five or six, but it was still early morning. They would make it just fine.

  He started his truck and turned on the radio. The announcer was saying that Orion remained on a direct path for the southern part of the Texas coastline. It was expected to make landfall within fifteen hours. There was now a ninety percent chance that Mustang Island would receive a direct hit.

  CHAPTER 8

  Becca walked with her mother down the side of the two-lane road toward her grandfather’s house. They could have taken the tractor or hooked up the buggy, but the fall day was nice, and a walk seemed more in order. Her mother was working on a new line of notecards with autumn scenes. They would stop occasionally so she could sketch the outline of a tree or flower or even Joshua Kline and his father planting what was probably winter wheat.

  “Joshua’s a nice boy.” Her mother tucked the notepad back into her purse. “Don’t you think?”

  “Ya, Mamm. He is. So is Alton.” Becca nearly laughed when her mother’s eyes widened. “I thought you wanted to marry me off. Are you saying Alton would be a bad choice?”

  “No… ” She drew out the word as she hooked her arm through Becca’s. “It’s only that Alton isn’t quite settled yet, but Joshua… well, Joshua seems steady.”

  “And steady is a gut thing?”

  “It is indeed.” Her mother squeezed her arm and then wandered toward the fence line where the Klines’ Percherons were standing and looking hopeful.

  “This one’s name is Blaze.” Becca rubbed the horse between the ears, scratching the white spot that no doubt had resulted in his name. “They were using him to pull Alton’s truck out of the ditch two days ago. Do you remember?”

  “I do. You nabbed one of my apples to feed the beast.” Her mother reached into her pocket and pulled out two small carrots.

  “How did you know you’d be needing treats for the horses?”

  “Daniel and Abigail Kline are one of the few families left with workhorses. They bring them to your dat for shoeing when necessary. I always hope to see them when I’m walking to your daddi’s, but often they are in the back pasture.”

  “Funny the things you learn about your own mother.”

  “We’ve been neighbors with the Klines since you were born, Becca. I would think you would know how familiar we are with one another.”

  Becca shrugged and they continued toward her grandparents’. “I suppose I didn’t pay that much attention when I was in school. Joshua was so much older than me.”

  “Age makes less of a difference when we’re adults.”

  “And Alton was younger, so I certainly didn’t pay much attention to him.”

  Her mother laughed at that.

  “You know, Mamm… spending this past summer with Aentie’s family has caused me to view things differently. Sometimes it feels as if I’m seeing everything for the first time.”

  “A time away is often gut for us, especially for young women your age.”

  “Life is certainly different in Wisconsin.”

  “Ya. I’ve been to my schweschder’s many times over the years. Different is a gut word for it.”

  “I’ll admit I like our bathrooms better.”

  Her mother nodded but didn’t comment on the value of indoor bathrooms over outhouses.

  “It’s not only that we are more progressive.” Becca said the last word carefully, unsure whether she liked it or not. “But outhouses and iceboxes? Unnecessary hardship makes no sense to me.”

  “The communities in Pebble Creek don’t see it that way. And if I remember right, they have both an Old Order and a New Order group.”

  “They do, and they get along quite well. I just don’t understand why there are differences.”

  “Because people see things differently.” Her mother stopped and pointed toward a stand of trees in a pasture across the road. “Tell me what you see.”

  “Several trees. Bright fall colors—bronze and crimson and mulberry. And weeds growing at the base.”

  “Gut. But what I see when I look at the same scene are crunchy leaves—”

  “You can’t see crunchy.”

  “A bird’s nest in the limbs.”

  “Too far away. You might guess, but—”

  “And someone’s initials carved into the tree trunk.”

  “You can’t possibly have seen that!”

  They both laughed and began walking again.

  “True. Some things I didn’t see, but still I know they are there.”

  Becca was quiet for a moment, trying to guess at her mother’s point. Finally, she shook her head. All the talk about leaves and bird’s nests… “What does that have to do with the vast differences in Amish communities?”

  “We both looked at the same thing, but we saw slightly different details.” Her mother’s voice was gentle and patient, reminding Becca of the light breeze dancing through the trees. “The same is true with Plain communities. We read the same Bible and share the same faith, but the details we perceive vary somewhat.”

  “So neither is right or wrong?”

  “How would I know?”

  They had turned down the lane to her grandparents’ home and waved at her grandmother, who was standing outside beating a rug she’d draped over the porch railing.

  “But, Mamm—”

  “I only bring it up to remind you that differences are never simple to understand.”

  Becca thought of those words later as she walked with her grandfather to check on the boys who were planting his back field. Levi walked with a limp. He even used a cane. But he never complained about his left leg if it pained him. He still mana
ged to run a small farm, though he accepted any offer of help that came his way. He’d once told her that it was important to be humble, and perhaps that was why God had allowed his leg to heal improperly after his accident. She couldn’t imagine her grandfather being anything but humble. He was the bishop. He understood the Bible and its teachings better than anyone she knew.

  “Ya, but understanding is different from doing. Isn’t it, Becca Lynn?” No one else used her middle name, and in her aenti’s community in Wisconsin, folks didn’t even have middle names—opting for a middle initial instead. Her mother told her that practice was actually quite common. Funny the things you learned when you traveled away from home.

  This conversation about understanding and pride had been several years before when she’d been struggling with vanity, owing mostly to the fact that she was a good twenty pounds heavier than the other girls her age. Somehow, when she was around her grandfather, those details she disliked about herself never mattered. Now when they visited, she thought back on those conversations. She appreciated her family more than any other thing in her life. Her mother, father, and grandparents all made her feel normal.

  After they checked on the planting, Levi suggested they help her grandmother by picking what was left of her fall harvest. Most of the plants had been cut to the ground and the soil turned over, but there were still a few lingering bell peppers, cucumbers, winter squash, and even cherry tomatoes.

  “We’ll have our first hard freeze any day. Best to bring these in before we do.”

  Becca had gone up and down the rows, collecting a surprisingly large quantity of vegetables. When she’d finished, she joined her grandfather on the bench in the afternoon sunshine.

  “Have you given any more thought to joining a winter mission?”

  “I talked to Mamm and Dat about it. They were hesitant because I’ve only been back home two months.”

  “But—”

  “But I think I would enjoy it.”

  “Any job prospects in sight?”

  Becca sighed. “I could work at the Cheese House in town.”

  “A fine establishment.”

  “It would be a part-time position, and I’m not sure being around all the cheese and breads and sweets would be a good idea.” Becca stared down at her hands. She’d always thought they were pretty, like fresh cookies rising in the oven. Then she’d heard one of the boys proclaim her “doughy,” and suddenly she found herself sticking her hands in her apron pockets or behind her back whenever she was with a group.