September Sky (American Journey Book 1) (45 page)

Emily returned to the center of the raft, shielded her eyes, and got her first glimpse of a new nightmare in progress. The wind and the water had pushed a mountain of debris against the house and begun using the debris as a lever to tip the residence onto its open side.

She watched helplessly as the house lurched forward and chairs, tables, and dressers spilled one by one out of the two bedrooms. When Rose's bed slid across the floor of her room, struck Max and Isabella from behind, and pushed them into the brine, Emily screamed.

Emily scanned the front of the house and searched for signs of life. She saw furniture, framed paintings, and other small debris but not the people who had raised her. She slid to the side of the raft and braced herself for another plunge when she saw two heads pop out of the water.

"Papa! Mama! I'm over here!"

Max and Isabella turned their heads, waved their arms, and shouted. They appeared shaken and frightened but physically sound. They had survived the fall.

Emily grabbed a board out of the water and started paddling. She was going to save them. If it took every last ounce of her strength, she was going to paddle to the house, pull her parents onto her seaworthy raft, and get them out of harm's way.

The dream of a family reunion didn't last long. Less than a minute after Max and Isabella had emerged from the water, another surge from the sea slammed into the house, lifted it from its foundation, and began to slowly roll it forward. This time nature didn't let up.

Emily shouted, waved her arms, and pointed at the house in a desperate attempt to warn her parents of the new danger but apparently succeeded only in confusing them. She watched in horror as they moved
toward
the doomed residence rather than away from it.

The end, mercifully, came quickly. Seconds after Max and Isabella reached what they no doubt believed was the most stable structure around, the stable structure turned on them. The two-story residence, once the pride and joy of a young naval officer and his blushing bride, completed its slow but unstoppable forward roll, crushing the Becks instantly.

Emily lifted her head and her arms and screamed at the sky. She could not believe that fate could be so incredibly cruel. Just minutes after she had found her parents in a most wonderful way, she had lost them again and lost them for good.

She fell to the raft and started to sob as the cold, hard truth began to take hold. Life as she knew it was about to change. At the age of twenty, Emily Beck was an orphan.

CHAPTER 78: JUSTIN

Justin watched the nun leap out of the second-floor window and reminded himself that she wasn't Sally Field. She wasn't a stuntwoman or an immortal or a sorority-pledging college girl with nine lives either. She was an incredibly courageous woman who threw herself into a hurricane so that others might live to see another day.

"How long has she been doing that?" Justin asked.

"She's been at it for more than an hour," a fiftyish woman said.

Like the much younger woman standing beside her at the window, she wore a black tunic, a white coif, and a cross around her neck. Like the other woman, she held a knotted rope that was tied to a cast-iron radiator on one end and the Flying Nun on the other.

"How many people has she saved?" Justin asked.

"She's pulled out six on my watch."

"Can I do anything to help?"

The older nun started to speak but stopped when a teenage girl bolted through a door at the far end of a gas-lighted corridor. The youth waved her arms as she approached.

"Sister Margaret! Sister Margaret! We need you in the infirmary."

"What is it, Belle?"

"We have another mother," the girl said. She put her hands on her hips and paused to catch her breath. "This one floated here in a trunk."

"Is she in labor?" Sister Margaret asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

Sister Margaret turned to face Justin.

"Can you pull a rope, sir?"

"I can pull two if I have to," Justin said.

"You just may on a night like this," Sister Margaret said. She handed the rope to Justin. "Sister Teresa will tell you what to do. Thank you."

Justin watched Sister Margaret and the teen walk quickly down the corridor, stop to help another nun pull a drowning man through an open window, and continue toward the door. When they disappeared from sight, he turned his attention to Sister Teresa.

"Is she going to do what I think she's going to do?"

Sister Teresa nodded.

"She's already delivered three babies tonight. This will make four."

Justin shook his head and smiled.

"You people are amazing."

"We're not amazing, Mister …"

"Townsend. My name is Justin Townsend."

"We're not amazing, Mr. Townsend. The Lord is amazing," Sister Teresa said. "We merely do the Lord's work."

Justin appreciated her modesty but thought she was selling the outfit short. The sisters were doing more than saving lives. They were saving a community.

"OK," Justin said. "What does the Lord want
me
to do?"

Sister Teresa smiled when something or someone tugged on the rope twice.

"Right now He wants you to reel in Sister Ruth and whoever she has in her arms."

Justin tightened his hold on the rope.

"You've got it," Justin said. "If you need to do something else, I can probably manage."

"No. I'll help," Sister Teresa said. "This is my station."

"Fair enough. Can we trade places though? I can do more from the window."

Sister Teresa nodded.

Justin waited for Sister Teresa to step out of his way. When she assumed a position in the rope line behind him, he walked to the window and got his first good look at the outside world since seven thirty, when a surge had flooded the main floor and sent dozens scrambling up the stairs. Even from his limited vantage point, he could see that the storm had worsened.

No matter where he looked, he saw people in the water. Many waved their arms in a desperate attempt to stay afloat. Some clung to furniture, barrels, and parts of houses. A few did nothing at all. They drifted past the window with their backs to the sky. Like so many others on this dreadful day, they were silent testaments to the hurricane's deadly toll.

Justin also saw debris zip through the air like it had been shot out of a cannon. Bricks and metal now flew as freely as boards, glass, and shingles, creating a "one and done" situation for anyone lifting his head at the wrong time.

Flying debris threatened not only people floating in the water but also those standing near the open windows of stable buildings. Justin learned this firsthand when he stuck his head out the window to check Sister Ruth's position and nearly took a shingle to the noggin. The slate tile whizzed past his ear, smashed into the side of the window, and exploded into a hundred pieces.

Justin reacted to the near miss by letting go of the rope and quickly moving out of harm's way. As he stepped back from the window, he tripped over his own feet and fell to the floor.

Sister Teresa let go of the rope and dropped to her knees.

"Are you all right?"

Justin sat up.

"I'm fine. At least I think I'm fine," Justin said. He sighed, shook his head, and laughed. "That was too close for comfort. I think someone's watching over me today."

Sister Teresa stood up and extended a hand.

"That's how it works," the nun said with a smile. "Let me help you up."

Justin took Sister Teresa's hand and slowly rose to his feet. He brushed the dust from his pants and returned his attention to the window. He felt his stomach lurch when he saw an unattended rope slide back and forth across the windowsill.

"Oh, crap!" Justin said. "We forgot about Ruth."

Justin returned to his station, grabbed the rope, and pulled as hard as he could. When he felt the rope go slack, he stuck his head out the window and saw that Sister Ruth had drifted toward the building. Even in the darkness, he could see that she held a young woman in her arms.

"Can you see her?" Sister Teresa asked.

Justin looked over his shoulder and nodded.

"She's right outside the window. She's got someone too. Keep pulling."

Justin pulled the rope hand over hand until he heard something thump against the side of the building. When he looked back at Sister Teresa and saw that she had a firm grip on the rope, he let go of the rope, stuck his head out the window, and looked down.

What he saw made his heart race. He saw not only the indestructible flying nun but also a girl who looked an awful lot like the one he had left in Houston. Petite and slim with long black hair, she was at first glance the spitting image of Emily Beck.

"Grab her arms!" Sister Ruth said.

Justin did as instructed. He leaned out the window, reached down about three feet, and grabbed the victim's flailing arms. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, he took a deep breath, gathered his strength, and pulled her through the window.

Justin knew the moment he lowered her safely onto the floor that she wasn't the person he had wanted to see. She was smaller and lighter than Emily and at least a year or two younger. Even so, he felt good – really good – about playing a role in saving her life.

"Are you OK?" Justin asked.

The girl nodded.

"What's your name?"

"Amelia."

"That's a pretty name," Justin said. "My name is Justin."

He glanced at Sister Teresa.

"Can you manage the rope for a minute?"

"I'll be fine," Sister Teresa said. "I'll let you know if Sister Ruth gives it a tug."

Justin nodded and returned his attention to the girl.

"Where do you live, Amelia?"

The girl averted her eyes.

"Amelia, where do you live?"

The teen hesitated again before finally offering an answer.

"Twenty-Ninth and Q."

"That's not too far from here," Justin said. "Where's your family?"

Amelia stepped back and looked down each end of the corridor, as if seeking a place where she could avoid questions she clearly didn't want to answer.

"I'm just trying to help, honey. If you tell me who your parents are, maybe I can help you find them. There are a lot of people here. Maybe your folks are here now."

Amelia started to shake.

"What's wrong?" Justin asked.

He put his hands on her shoulders.

"Amelia, what's wrong?"

The girl looked away.

Justin slowly turned her toward him.

"Amelia?"

"They're not here. They're dead!" Amelia said. She started to sob. "They're all dead!"

"Are you sure?"

Amelia nodded and exploded into tears.

Justin took her into his arms and held her for the next few minutes. He didn't know what to say to someone who had just lost her family, but he knew he couldn't leave her side.

When Sister Teresa recruited another man to help with the rope and asked Justin to take Amelia to the comfort and safety of the third floor, he did just that. He took her to a classroom where nuns attended to the needs of children who had been separated from their parents.

As Justin tried to comfort the young woman who looked like Emily, he thought about the genuine article and started to ask questions he didn't want to ask. Where was she? Was she safe? Was she even alive? If she was, could he bring himself to leave her now?

He didn't have the answers and didn't know where to look for them. He knew only that the frightened girl at his side had given him hope that the woman he sought, the woman he had not found in the Ursuline Academy, was still out there – safe, sound, and waiting to see him again.

CHAPTER 79: EMILY

The hurricane that claimed Emily's parents gave her no time to mourn. Just minutes after it threw a house on Max and Isabella Beck, it turned on their daughter with a vengeance.

Lying on her stomach, Emily clung to the raft as the winds picked up and the waves rose higher. She didn't dare lift her head. Boards, bricks, and slate shingles flew above and around her like bullets and destroyed nearly every living thing in their path.

When Emily looked to her left, she saw a shingle strike the neck of a man standing on a roof and remove his head as cleanly as any guillotine. When she looked to her right, she saw bricks hit a woman floating on a slab much like her own and turn her to pulp.

Emily vomited over the side of her raft and then pulled herself to the middle. She resisted the temptation to throw herself overboard or offer herself up to the flying debris. Though the appeal of death was strong, so was the desire to see Anna again. If she did nothing else on this horrible night, she would try to survive so that she could give her sister the support she would need.

Emily pushed her hands through two slots in the raft and held on as best she could. She rested the left side of her head on the slab's rough surface and stared at a scene that seemed torn from a nightmare or a painting of a biblical flood.

No matter which way she turned, Emily saw and heard destruction, misery, and death. She saw massive houses implode and people flail helplessly in the churning water. When she heard a boy scream for his mother and then suddenly go silent, she closed her eyes and sobbed. Even the toughest challenges of her twenty years had not prepared her for this.

For the next two hours, Emily hung onto the raft and willed herself to live. She wanted to live not only for her sister, whom she would now have to raise, but also for the young man who still owned her heart. He was as much a part of her now as anyone.

As Emily struggled to stay on the raft, she began to ask old questions. Did she really have to let Justin go? Was there any way they could bridge their differences? Was it too late to consider 2016? She could raise Anna anywhere. The unthinkable suddenly became thinkable.

Emily wondered what her parents would advise now if they were able to do so. Would they insist that she take Anna to New Orleans and surround her with the only family she had left? Or would they still encourage her to follow her dreams to a place from which there was no return?