“So what do we do?”
“Landon, you already know the answer.” John heard the calm in his own voice, felt himself relying on a power far greater than anything he might’ve possessed.
For a moment Landon looked unsure. But then slowly peace returned to his expression. They would do the only thing they could do. They would pray. It was then that John heard a crackling on his radio. He moved the few steps to the box and held it to his ear.
The news was still worse, bigger even than Landon’s announcement that Ashley was in labor. An F-4 tornado had been spotted on the outskirts of Bloomington. If the announcer was right, they were about to find out if the storm door would hold the way it was supposed to.
The twister was headed straight for them.
Ashley knew she was in trouble, both her and the baby.
While the winds outside built and the house above them shook, her contractions came at her full force. Landon was timing them, and so far they were twelve minutes apart. That part wasn’t bad, but they were lasting nearly a minute each, and even between pains Ashley couldn’t catch her breath. The experience with Cole had been nothing like this—at least she didn’t remember it this way.
She lay on one of the cots and clutched Landon’s hand, blowing out, trying hard to empty her lungs so she could take a full drink of air. “Why . . . why am I . . . so out of breath?”
“Honey, it’s the pain. Sometimes it can do that.” Landon was doing all he could. Every minute or so he took her pulse, and even now he seemed to be watching her for signs. “I’ll be right back.”
He went to her father, and the two spoke in whispers. But at least once Ashley heard the words high blood pressure and racing heart. She willed herself to be calm. She didn’t need either of them to tell her what the next step should be. If they were worried about high blood pressure and a racing heart, then it was time to take her to the hospital.
But the sounds outside were like something from a horror film, creaking and groaning and pounding. Sounds she’d never heard in all her life in Bloomington. Whatever was going on with her body, she knew they couldn’t go to the hospital now.
Landon and her father returned to her side. Her father checked her vital signs.
“Hang in there, Ash,” Landon said. “Please . . .”
“I am.” Another contraction hit. She tightened, her back lifting off the cot as she tried to survive the knifelike pain slicing through her body. When it was over, she felt a rush of panic. She couldn’t catch her breath, not a single one. “Help me . . . Landon, help.”
He squeezed her hand and leaned over her. “Breathe out, little breaths.”
“I . . . I can’t.”
“Father God . . . we need You now . . . please!” The intensity of his words told her just how worried he was.
Again she considered that maybe this was more than a difficult delivery. Maybe she and the baby were facing a life-or-death situation. She couldn’t bear the thought. She wanted to grow old with Landon, live a full life of raising their family and watching their kids become adults. She wanted what her parents had, what dear sweet Irvel from Sunset Hills had with Hank, her lifelong love—decades and decades of memories, enough to last into life’s very darkest midnight.
God . . . help me. Hold me! I don’t want to die!
Landon was still praying, his voice urgent. “Calm Ashley, Lord. Help her breathe. Right now, I beg You.”
Kari and Brooke and Erin must’ve heard him, because she noticed that they’d gathered with their dad, holding hands and praying. She made a circle with her lips and pushed out the smallest bit of air.
“That’s it, Ash . . . blow out. You have to blow out.” Landon hovered over her, his eyes more serious than she’d ever seen them. “God, help her . . . please.”
She could feel her heart racing inside her. In the background the wailing wind reached another level of intensity. It no longer sounded like a storm but more like a freight train bearing down on them. Ashley wasn’t sure if it was her contractions or her fear that was making it so hard to breathe, but she closed her eyes.
Focus. God, give me Your peace.
And then, despite her terror, she heard His voice—still and silent yet louder than the wind and storm combined. Daughter, I am with you. Do not be anxious about anything. Peace I leave. My peace I give you.
For the first time in four minutes, Ashley felt herself fully exhale, felt the supernatural peace flood her body, and felt the air slowly filling her lungs. “There.” She wanted to shout for joy. “I got a breath.”
“Thank You, God.” Landon breathed the words against her skin. He gently kissed her forehead, his concern not one bit less than before. “Keep breathing out, Ash. Please.”
“It’s the Lord, Landon.” She could sense Him. “He’s here. Everything’s going to be okay.”
They held on that way as the sound of destruction filled the air outside. Her contractions were getting closer together, and she heard Landon and her father talking. If they couldn’t get her to the hospital soon, they might have to stage the delivery here. In the basement. With twenty people gathered around.
The sound of breaking glass mixed with the screaming wind and pounding thunder. The kids were awake now, sitting up and whimpering. Then—in a way that seemed impossible—the intensity grew.
Kari and Ryan had their two children and Cole between them. In between the blinding white-hot contractions, amid efforts at exhaling, Ashley caught glimpses of him.
Cole looked scared to death, and each time she looked his eyes were glued to hers. He mouthed the word Mommy. Once he even held his little hand out to her. “Mommy.”
Kari rubbed his back, and now and then she would lean close and whisper something in his ear.
Outside the wind sounded like a terrible monster, an evil presence. There was a loud crash, and Maddie cried out, “Jesus . . . help us!”
Next to her Hayley’s eyes were big. Brooke and Peter had the girls tucked close between them. “It’s okay. Jesus is with us.” Brooke breathed the promise again and again.
Ashley let the words wash over her weary body. Jesus is with us . . . Jesus is with us.
All four of Erin and Sam’s girls were crying openly now, and Sam worked next to Erin to keep them calm.
Just as the next contraction hit, the house above them seemed to shudder. More breaking glass, more thuds and crashes.
“Mommy . . . it’s the end of the world!” Cole jumped up and ran to her and Landon. “Daddy, I’m scared!”
“Cole . . .” Ashley ran her tongue along her lips. They were so dry, same as her mouth and her throat.
“Son, it’s okay.” Landon was still hovered over her. He kept one hand on her wrist, and he placed the other over Cole’s shoulder.
Cole buried his head against Landon’s chest. “Why won’t God make it stop?”
Across the room, Ashley heard her dad’s voice rise above the others. “Jesus . . . we beg You to keep us safe. We thank You—” another crash shook the house—“for being with us. We need You, Father.”
The entire family seemed to brace itself, as if the worst was just ahead. Another pain gripped Ashley’s middle, making her dizzy from the way it seized her.
Then, as quickly as the storm had descended on them, it stopped. The wind and rain, the lightning and thunder—all of it settled into utter, eerie silence. The only sound was that of the children crying softly, the adults making quiet reassuring sounds.
Her father let out a sigh. “Thank You, Jesus.”
Ashley glanced at him. He lifted the radio close to his ear.
Between contractions, Ashley sensed that her siblings were finally able to calm the kids. But she could just barely hear her father whispering to Luke. The news was horrific. The F-4 had turned and headed east, just missing downtown. Another tornado—an F-3, weather officials were guessing—had gone through the Clear Creek area of town.
“What was that?” Ashley wasn’t able to say much. Her breathin
g was fast and irregular.
“Everything’s okay,” her father answered quickly. He was trying to keep the news from her, trying not to upset her further.
Landon still had Cole pressed up close to him. Finally Cole felt safe enough to return to his sleeping bag and his place near Kari and Ryan.
Landon stayed beside Ashley, talking her through each contraction, praying over her, and helping her stay calm enough to keep breathing. But the contractions were too close to wait another minute.
Finally her father joined them. “How far apart?”
“Seven minutes. Six and a half, maybe.” Landon’s voice was strained, his words clipped. “I’d like to take her if you think it’s safe.”
“We’re still in a watch situation, but the worst of it’s passed.” John looked weary, beaten. “It’s after midnight, and the phones are out. I tried calling the hospital. There’s no telling what things are like there, but I think we should go. It’s bound to be better than waiting here.”
Ashley listened to their conversation, listened and prayed while another contraction took hold of her body. No matter how calm she felt or how strongly she sensed God’s presence, she agreed with both of them. “Please—” she was breathless again—“let’s go.”
They got her to her feet, and each of her sisters whispered from the shadows that they’d be praying for her. Ashley felt weak and dizzy. Her father unbolted the storm door, and they made their way up the stairs by flashlight. She was sure they were all terrified about what they would find.
Her father creaked the top door open. He stepped inside and shone his flashlight around the living room and kitchen. “Amazing.”
“It’s still here.” Landon had his arm around her, supporting her almost completely. “Come on, Ash. Let’s get you to the car.”
The Baxter house was still standing! On the way through the kitchen toward the door, Ashley was shocked at how little damage there was. Despite hours of furious tornado-force winds, the rooms were intact, the walls still holding firm. Only several windows were broken. When they reached the garage, they saw that a ten-foot section of the roof had been stripped away.
“We’ll find more damage in the morning.” John hurried ahead of Landon and opened the door for Ashley. Landon helped her into the backseat before climbing in beside her, and minutes later John was heading the car toward the hospital.
Ashley spent most of the ride staring down at her abdomen, praying for her baby, staring at the place where Landon had tight hold of her hand. She felt awful, like she might be sick if she looked up. But when she did, she saw devastation was everywhere. Hundred-year-old oak trees were uprooted and tossed into gullies or lying at strange angles across the road. Street signs and vehicles and roofs were twisted and littered the pavement. Several times her dad had to stop and maneuver around debris so they could continue on.
Finally, when Ashley didn’t think she could take another contraction, they wheeled into the hospital parking lot and pulled up outside the emergency room entrance. The place was packed, but her dad would know what to do. He ran inside, and in what felt like seconds, he rushed out with a stretcher. He and Landon helped her onto it.
Landon kept close to her face. “Keep praying, baby. . . . Everything’s going to be okay.”
But she could tell from his face that something was wrong. Very wrong. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, filling in the light and making it impossible to see him. “Landon . . . where are you?”
“I’m here, Ash. I won’t go anywhere.”
She wanted to tell him that she loved him with all her life, that nothing could happen to her because she wanted to spend forever loving him, and she hadn’t had nearly enough time. But she could feel herself slipping away, falling . . . falling . . . falling, and for the first time that night, the pain began to dim.
It grew more and more faint until she wasn’t sure anymore. Was she in the hospital, really? Or was she at home? Maybe the entire night was only a bad dream, and she’d wake up ready to go to the lake, ready for the next day of the Baxter reunion. Or maybe she was already dead . . . being taken to heaven.
Please let me live, God. And where was Landon—where was her husband? Landon, can you hear me?
Her mouth wouldn’t work, not at all. She wanted to scream that it couldn’t be so; she couldn’t be dying. The baby wasn’t even born yet, and she didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl. How could she die when she hadn’t met her second child?
But then a peace came over her, a calm even greater than the one she’d felt earlier.
For the second time that night, she felt God’s presence and the certainty of something she hadn’t thought of before. She felt herself relax deeply, completely. Everything was going to be all right, because she loved the Lord, and He loved her. She was safe in His hands now, and forevermore she would be healthy and happy, safe and loved and completely cared for.
Whether she ever woke up again or not.
Finally the storm had passed.
Katy Hart and the entire Flanigan family used their flashlights and crept carefully out of the basement and up the stairs. The storm had raged for hours, but upstairs they found little damage. At least from what they could tell in the limited light.
The electricity was off, and probably would be for a while. Days, maybe. But she’d gotten a cell phone call from Rhonda. Some mobile phones were working. The CKT families were starting a phone chain, and anyone with service was being asked to call three people until they were certain everyone was okay.
Times like this, if someone was in trouble, it was better to find out immediately. That way they could bond together and do what they could to help. Families might be missing people or in need of shelter—or worse.
Jim and the boys made their way from room to room, checking the ceilings and windows. Jenny stayed next to Katy in the kitchen, making phone calls. All of them were shocked by the violence of the storm. Jenny kept saying the same thing: “I could feel the hand of God over us. Every minute while we were down there.”
Katy had felt it too. But what about the others? As many families as there were involved in CKT, someone was bound to be suffering that very minute. She couldn’t relax until she knew every one of them was okay.
The basement at the Flanigan house was nicer than the homes most people had, so they’d been able to eat dinner and drink water. They even had a battery-operated television downstairs, so the kids had been able to watch videos after the electricity went out. Only during the last few hours, when the winds screamed and the thunder crashed, did they turn everything off and form a prayer circle.
It was the first time Katy had ever seen Jim look scared. Now, between phone calls, Katy couldn’t thank God enough for keeping them safe.
One after another, she and Jenny went down the list of names and numbers. And one after another the news was good. People had lost cars and roofs and in one case half a house. But they were okay and accounted for. All except the Reed family.
Next to the Flanigans, Katy was closer to the Reeds than anyone in CKT. She’d called them three times, but no one answered. She was about to dial them for the fourth time when her phone rang in her hand. She jumped and checked caller ID. It was Rhonda. “Hello?”
On the other end, Rhonda was crying, so upset her words were barely understandable.
When Katy could finally make out what her friend was saying, the news knocked the wind from her. “Rhonda, say it again. Say it slow.” Katy was on her feet, pacing the kitchen floor. “The Reeds . . . are you sure?”
“Yes . . . their house . . . it’s gone. There’s no . . . no sign of them.”
Katy pressed the phone tight against her ear, not wanting to miss any part of the conversation. “Let’s try to meet over there. It should be safe to go out. You and I and maybe Jenny. We can pray and look around and—” she raked her fingers through her hair and tugged at her roots—“we have to do something.”
“Okay. I’ll leave in five minutes.”
br /> There was no talk about what they might find or how the news could go from bad to worse. Their friends were missing; they were in danger—their house destroyed. Of course Katy would go. She closed her phone and looked at Jenny.
Her friend came to her and hugged her. “I’m sorry, Katy.”
“Come with me, please?”
Jenny hesitated. Then she nodded and went to tell Jim.
Ten minutes later Katy and Jenny were driving around debris and twisted house parts, swerving around cars that had been tossed around like toys. Even at one in the morning, the darkness couldn’t hide the obvious. Bloomington had been devastated by the tornadoes.
When they reached the Reeds’ neighborhood called Autumn Trace, Jenny slowed her Suburban. The place looked like something from one of those storm-chaser videos on the Discovery Channel. On either side of the street, where rows of houses had stood just hours ago, the entire block was leveled. Only an occasional chimney or partial brick wall was left standing. Emergency vehicles filled the streets, and a police officer blocked the way ahead of them.
Jenny rolled down her window. “Our friends’ house is gone.” She motioned ahead. “They’re missing. We want to help find them.”
The officer looked like he was going to turn them away. But clearly there weren’t enough emergency personnel. “We have units coming from as far away as Illinois, but for now . . . I guess we can use all the help we can get.”
Jenny thanked the man and inched ahead, careful not to hit fallen trees or cars mangled along the road. “It’s hard to tell where to go.”
But just then they spotted Rhonda’s car forty yards in front of them. Two fire trucks were parked across the street.
“There.” Katy pointed to the spot where crews were working. “That was their house!” Katy’s heart pounded so loudly it seemed to echo through the Suburban.
This couldn’t be happening, not again. They’d already lost Sarah Jo Stryker and little Ben Hanover. And now the entire Reed family? CKT couldn’t take a blow like this. She peered into the darkness, afraid to climb out of the SUV. Her teeth chattered, and she clenched her fists. “Why . . . are we here again?”