shuddered again. It could be days before I can reach them and tell them I’m okay. Will I be okay?
Another cracking sound above their heads. Another stream of powdery plaster came floating down. James staggered forward, eyes wide. His mouth dropped open. His knees folded. He started to fall.
Martha grabbed him by the shoulders, struggling to keep him on his feet.
“The roof . . .” he breathed. “It’s . . . coming down.”
A terrifying craaack . A rumble like approaching thunder. A shower of powdery plaster.
Everything shaking. Everything.
Lea screamed as the world came crashing down on her.
10
L ea struggled to pull herself up from the ringing darkness. Her head throbbed as if about to explode. Waves of pain rolled down her back, her arms and legs. Blinking in the gray light, still unable to focus, she gazed up.
“Oh my God!”
The sky appeared so close, glaring through the jagged hole in the ceiling. She raised her head, feeling dizzy. Underwater, her clothing soaked and the couch beneath her like a furry wet animal. She brushed shingles off the couch. Still struggling to focus, she saw jagged pieces of the ceiling strewn over the room.
Martha and James bent over her. Their faces were tight with concern, ghostly pale in the heavy gray light washing down from above.
“Lea? You’re coming to? Are you okay?” Martha looked twenty years older. Her hair hung in damp tangles over her forehead. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wet.
Lea pulled herself to a sitting position. The room spun around her. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.
She squinted at the shards of wood and broken shingles scattered crazily around the couch. Piles of wet plaster on the carpet. Like cake flour. A snowstorm blanketing the furniture.
“The roof—”
Martha gripped her hand. “Take it slow, Lea. Just breathe. Don’t try to get up yet.”
“What happened?” Martha and James slid in and out of focus. Lea smoothed a hand over her hair, trying to rub away the pain.
“Part of the roof fell in,” James said, gazing up at the sky. “You got hit by some slate shingles. It knocked you out.”
“We were so worried.” Martha squeezed Lea’s hand. “It just came crashing down on you. We put you on the couch and—”
Lea shuddered. “I . . . think I’m okay. Just a headache. The dizziness is going away.”
“Oh, thank God,” Martha said.
“We all got soaked,” James said, his voice hoarse, croaky. “But we were lucky.” He glanced away, as if trying to force down some heavy emotion. Despite his attempt, a sob escaped his throat.
Martha held on to Lea’s hand. “So glad y’all are okay. We were scared. You were totally out. Look. You might have a bump on your head, but it didn’t even break the skin.”
Lea brushed back her dark hair with both hands. “Wow. Guess I’m lucky. I feel okay. Really.”
“It’s morning. The rain stopped a few hours ago,” Martha said. “The winds—”
James motioned toward the broken ceiling. “The rain. It soaked everything. The house will never dry out.”
“But it’s still standing.” Martha turned to her husband. “I think we may be the fortunate ones. I . . . I’m afraid to look outside.”
James shivered. “I need dry clothes.” He started toward the bedroom. His shoes squished on the carpet.
Martha followed him. She turned back to Lea, her face almost apologetic. “We’ve been up all night. Maybe James and I should catch a few hours sleep. Before . . . before we face what’s out there.”
“Yes. Don’t worry about me.” Lea shook off another wave of dizziness. “You two are so kind. I’ll never forget this. I’ll be okay. Get some rest.”
“Help yourself to anything in the fridge. We have to finish it before it spoils. There won’t be any power for a long time.” Martha uttered a long sigh.
They disappeared down the hall to their room.
Lea watched streams of water run down the wall. Stretching her arms above her head,
Another cracking sound above their heads. Another stream of powdery plaster came floating down. James staggered forward, eyes wide. His mouth dropped open. His knees folded. He started to fall.
Martha grabbed him by the shoulders, struggling to keep him on his feet.
“The roof . . .” he breathed. “It’s . . . coming down.”
A terrifying craaack . A rumble like approaching thunder. A shower of powdery plaster.
Everything shaking. Everything.
Lea screamed as the world came crashing down on her.
10
L ea struggled to pull herself up from the ringing darkness. Her head throbbed as if about to explode. Waves of pain rolled down her back, her arms and legs. Blinking in the gray light, still unable to focus, she gazed up.
“Oh my God!”
The sky appeared so close, glaring through the jagged hole in the ceiling. She raised her head, feeling dizzy. Underwater, her clothing soaked and the couch beneath her like a furry wet animal. She brushed shingles off the couch. Still struggling to focus, she saw jagged pieces of the ceiling strewn over the room.
Martha and James bent over her. Their faces were tight with concern, ghostly pale in the heavy gray light washing down from above.
“Lea? You’re coming to? Are you okay?” Martha looked twenty years older. Her hair hung in damp tangles over her forehead. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wet.
Lea pulled herself to a sitting position. The room spun around her. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.
She squinted at the shards of wood and broken shingles scattered crazily around the couch. Piles of wet plaster on the carpet. Like cake flour. A snowstorm blanketing the furniture.
“The roof—”
Martha gripped her hand. “Take it slow, Lea. Just breathe. Don’t try to get up yet.”
“What happened?” Martha and James slid in and out of focus. Lea smoothed a hand over her hair, trying to rub away the pain.
“Part of the roof fell in,” James said, gazing up at the sky. “You got hit by some slate shingles. It knocked you out.”
“We were so worried.” Martha squeezed Lea’s hand. “It just came crashing down on you. We put you on the couch and—”
Lea shuddered. “I . . . think I’m okay. Just a headache. The dizziness is going away.”
“Oh, thank God,” Martha said.
“We all got soaked,” James said, his voice hoarse, croaky. “But we were lucky.” He glanced away, as if trying to force down some heavy emotion. Despite his attempt, a sob escaped his throat.
Martha held on to Lea’s hand. “So glad y’all are okay. We were scared. You were totally out. Look. You might have a bump on your head, but it didn’t even break the skin.”
Lea brushed back her dark hair with both hands. “Wow. Guess I’m lucky. I feel okay. Really.”
“It’s morning. The rain stopped a few hours ago,” Martha said. “The winds—”
James motioned toward the broken ceiling. “The rain. It soaked everything. The house will never dry out.”
“But it’s still standing.” Martha turned to her husband. “I think we may be the fortunate ones. I . . . I’m afraid to look outside.”
James shivered. “I need dry clothes.” He started toward the bedroom. His shoes squished on the carpet.
Martha followed him. She turned back to Lea, her face almost apologetic. “We’ve been up all night. Maybe James and I should catch a few hours sleep. Before . . . before we face what’s out there.”
“Yes. Don’t worry about me.” Lea shook off another wave of dizziness. “You two are so kind. I’ll never forget this. I’ll be okay. Get some rest.”
“Help yourself to anything in the fridge. We have to finish it before it spoils. There won’t be any power for a long time.” Martha uttered a long sigh.
They disappeared down the hall to their room.
Lea watched streams of water run down the wall. Stretching her arms above her head,
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