Like always, she tried to do things too quickly. “He must be punished.”
“He must.”
“The bishop will guide us.”
“He will.”
They sat in silence and sipped their tea, not speaking for long moments. Finally her
mudder rose and, with a grace Helen longed to possess, glided to the large tub where
they washed the dishes and set the cup in it. “We’ll wash these with the breakfast
dishes. It’s late. Dawn will be here soon.”
Swallowing against the ache in her throat, Helen straightened and took a last sip
of the tea before repeating her mother’s actions.
She followed Mudder through the doorway and slipped past her. “Let me help you up
the stairs.”
A roaring, screaming sound drowned out her mother’s response. A second later, the
living room wall ripped apart. Windows shattered. The enormous oak tree that had shaded
Helen’s childhood home since before her birth crashed through. The sheer surprise
of it made Helen scream.
“What? What is it?” Mudder cried. “Helen? Helen! Where are you?”
“Right here! I’m right here,” Helen gasped when she had enough air in her lungs to
shout. She threw an arm across her face and looked up. All she could see were massive
tree branches crashing down. “Hang on to me.”
Branches smashed into furniture and sent glass, wood, leaves, and debris hurtling
in all directions. Heart pounding so hard it might punch through her rib cage and
free itself, Helen whirled, grabbed her mother, and thrust her to the floor. Her mother
let out an oomph sound and tried to wiggle away. “Stop, Mudder, stay down!” Helen screamed over the
continuous thunder. “Stay down!”
Ach, God, not her too. Please God, not her too. I already lost Daed .
Cowering from the flailing branches, she covered her mother with her body. Rain soaked
her. Tree branches slapped to the floor all around them in a bam, bam, bam that made her jump each time.
Finally, the terrible crashing, tearing sounds abated, leaving behind the steady pounding
of the rain and an occasional rumble of thunder. The noise was all the more ominous.
Nothing separated Helen and her mother from the elements. The jagged hole in the roof
and the wall stood open like a gaping wound.
“What was it? What happened?” Mudder struggled to rise. “Are you all right?”
“The oak tree.” Helen sucked in air, but she couldn’t get relief. No oxygen seemed
to fill her lungs. She panted. Please God, don’t let me have a heart attack. Mudder and the children need me . She tried again. “The storm felled the oak tree.”
Another pillar in her life knocked down.
Chapter 6
G abriel paused at the foot of the stairs, doing a mental recount. Mary Elizabeth and
Abigail washed breakfast dishes with Rebecca, Thomas’s oldest girl, while Mary and
Lillie played with the little girls and kept them out from underfoot. Seth, Samuel,
and Isaac had tromped out immediately after breakfast to survey the storm damage with
Thomas. That left Daniel. The boy—hardly a boy at nineteen—spoke little but his unrelenting
morose stare said it all. Gabriel sucked in a breath and prepared to do his fatherly
duty despite a weariness born of a sleepless night and guilt and despair that lingered
like cobwebs hanging low in a dark, dusty, unused room. They’d come to this place
for a new start, only to find the same problems staring them in the face.
“Daniel? Daniel! Get down here. Time’s wasting.”
No answer. “Daniel!”
Nothing.
Gritting his teeth, Gabriel stomped up the stairs and down the hallway to the bedroom
his four boys shared with Thomas’s sons Eli and little Caleb. The narrow, stacked
bunk beds lined the room, blocking his view. He ducked and peered under the top row
of bunks. Daniel sat on the last one, facing the crib and squeezed up against the
tall east windows, his back to the door.
“Son.”
Still, Daniel didn’t turn. Anger ripped through Gabriel like
“He must.”
“The bishop will guide us.”
“He will.”
They sat in silence and sipped their tea, not speaking for long moments. Finally her
mudder rose and, with a grace Helen longed to possess, glided to the large tub where
they washed the dishes and set the cup in it. “We’ll wash these with the breakfast
dishes. It’s late. Dawn will be here soon.”
Swallowing against the ache in her throat, Helen straightened and took a last sip
of the tea before repeating her mother’s actions.
She followed Mudder through the doorway and slipped past her. “Let me help you up
the stairs.”
A roaring, screaming sound drowned out her mother’s response. A second later, the
living room wall ripped apart. Windows shattered. The enormous oak tree that had shaded
Helen’s childhood home since before her birth crashed through. The sheer surprise
of it made Helen scream.
“What? What is it?” Mudder cried. “Helen? Helen! Where are you?”
“Right here! I’m right here,” Helen gasped when she had enough air in her lungs to
shout. She threw an arm across her face and looked up. All she could see were massive
tree branches crashing down. “Hang on to me.”
Branches smashed into furniture and sent glass, wood, leaves, and debris hurtling
in all directions. Heart pounding so hard it might punch through her rib cage and
free itself, Helen whirled, grabbed her mother, and thrust her to the floor. Her mother
let out an oomph sound and tried to wiggle away. “Stop, Mudder, stay down!” Helen screamed over the
continuous thunder. “Stay down!”
Ach, God, not her too. Please God, not her too. I already lost Daed .
Cowering from the flailing branches, she covered her mother with her body. Rain soaked
her. Tree branches slapped to the floor all around them in a bam, bam, bam that made her jump each time.
Finally, the terrible crashing, tearing sounds abated, leaving behind the steady pounding
of the rain and an occasional rumble of thunder. The noise was all the more ominous.
Nothing separated Helen and her mother from the elements. The jagged hole in the roof
and the wall stood open like a gaping wound.
“What was it? What happened?” Mudder struggled to rise. “Are you all right?”
“The oak tree.” Helen sucked in air, but she couldn’t get relief. No oxygen seemed
to fill her lungs. She panted. Please God, don’t let me have a heart attack. Mudder and the children need me . She tried again. “The storm felled the oak tree.”
Another pillar in her life knocked down.
Chapter 6
G abriel paused at the foot of the stairs, doing a mental recount. Mary Elizabeth and
Abigail washed breakfast dishes with Rebecca, Thomas’s oldest girl, while Mary and
Lillie played with the little girls and kept them out from underfoot. Seth, Samuel,
and Isaac had tromped out immediately after breakfast to survey the storm damage with
Thomas. That left Daniel. The boy—hardly a boy at nineteen—spoke little but his unrelenting
morose stare said it all. Gabriel sucked in a breath and prepared to do his fatherly
duty despite a weariness born of a sleepless night and guilt and despair that lingered
like cobwebs hanging low in a dark, dusty, unused room. They’d come to this place
for a new start, only to find the same problems staring them in the face.
“Daniel? Daniel! Get down here. Time’s wasting.”
No answer. “Daniel!”
Nothing.
Gritting his teeth, Gabriel stomped up the stairs and down the hallway to the bedroom
his four boys shared with Thomas’s sons Eli and little Caleb. The narrow, stacked
bunk beds lined the room, blocking his view. He ducked and peered under the top row
of bunks. Daniel sat on the last one, facing the crib and squeezed up against the
tall east windows, his back to the door.
“Son.”
Still, Daniel didn’t turn. Anger ripped through Gabriel like
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