Brenda Minton - Rekindled Hearts

The rest of the town was deserted. People had heeded the warning and taken shelter. He glanced toward the day care. The kids would be safe there. He didn’t see anyone outside. The only movement was on the city green, next to the gazebo. Colt’s dog, Chico. The stupid chocolate lab was barking at the storm as wind blew and a few small trees toppled.

Even the mildest storm, if it included thunder and lightning, caused the dog to lose it. Chico had one spot in the fence that he could dig his way out of. Since the dog couldn’t get inside Colt’s house, he was probably heading for Lexi’s.

The roar of the wind increased. He couldn’t see the funnel from where he was, but he knew that it was out there. And he had no idea where it was heading.

“God save us.”

He repeated Bud’s words, because he knew he couldn’t save himself. Dust filled the car, filling his nostrils with the scent of destruction and earth. His heart pounded and the sound roared in his ears.

He wasn’t ready to die.

He wasn’t going to let his dog die. He jumped out of the car and ran toward the dog, shouting his name, knowing the animal couldn’t hear above the roaring wind. A piece of metal flew through the air, bouncing off the ground and then into the air again.

Colt yelled at the dog. Chico turned and as he did, the metal hit his side and the dog fell.

The pull of the storm made it hard to move, hard to breathe. Colt leaned, pushing himself forward. When he reached the dog, he kneeled, breathing deep for a moment, giving his heart a second to slow its pounding rhythm, letting his lungs refill.

The rain had slowed, still heavy, but not pounding. Debris floated in the wind and fluttered to the ground. They were in serious trouble. The pieces of siding and insulation had to come from homes in the outlying areas. To the south he could see the form of a dark wall cloud. The air had stilled, but the storms weren’t over.

He had to get hold of Bud, or one of the storm spotters, to see what was happening outside of town. And they would have to notify the county officers to make sure they were in the area.

He keyed his mic. Nothing. He pulled his cell phone out, hoping for a signal. He still had one. That meant they still had towers standing. When Bud answered, he could hear the younger cop’s fear in his shaking voice. Colt wondered if he sounded the same.

“Bud, what’s it look like out there?”

“Bad, Chief. I saw a county deputy. He said there’s a tornado forming. It was on the ground for a while, and went back up, but it’s still there. I can see the rotation.”

“Okay, make sure the county emergency management has been contacted. You might want to contact the hospital and some of the other communities around here. If they haven’t been hit, we’re going to need their help.” He held a handkerchief to the wound on his dog’s side.

“Sure thing. Oh man, it’s on the ground again.”

“Bud, take shelter somewhere. When it’s over, we’ll do house-by-house searches. But stay safe.”

“Got it. You, too, ’cause it’s heading that way.”

Colt slid his phone back into his pocket and turned his attention back to the dog. “I’ve got to get you to Lexi’s before this hits.”

The wind picked up, blowing across the lawn. Colt glanced toward the High Plains Community Church. He could make it there. But two blocks away was Lexi’s house and veterinary clinic. Was she there, or out on a call?

He had to make sure she was okay. “Come on, Chico.”

But the dog wasn’t moving. “Buddy, don’t ask me to do this.”

The dog raised his head and looked up at him.

“Come on.” Colt scooped the sixty-pound dog into his arms. More blood oozed from the cut.

As the storm rolled toward them he ran across Main Street and down the road toward Lexi’s, and safety. And if she wasn’t home? He didn’t want to think of her out on the road, tending sick cows in the middle of a tornado.

Lexi stood in the entryway of her house, knowing that she shouldn’t be there. She should be back in the basement, where she’d gone after she had first heard the siren. But her heart wouldn’t let her go back, not until she knew if Colt was safe. She’d watched his car pass earlier.

She knew he would risk his life to save everyone else. He was all about saving other people. If only he had put that same care into their marriage.

He said he had divorced her to save her from heartache.

Whatever.

She knew that he had divorced her to save himself. He didn’t want to live his life worrying about her, worrying about what would happen to her if something happened to him. He had divorced her because he hadn’t been able to deal with the death of Gavin Jones, a deputy that Colt hadn’t been able to reach in time to save.

As mad as he made her, Lexi’s heart still ached when she thought of Colt, of loving him and losing him. She closed her eyes and leaned against the cool glass of the window.

She prayed he would be safe. This felt too much like their marriage, when she had prayed every night that he would come home safe. And one night, a few months after Gavin’s death, he hadn’t called to let her know he would be late.

He had found her on the couch, crying, afraid something had happened to him. That night had been the final straw for them both.

Now he was out there again. And she was afraid. Again.

It had to be bad. Debris littered her yard. Her power was out and the house was silent. No news on the radio, no hum of the fridge. Silence, other than the howl of the wind picking up again, and rain pelting the windows and metal roof.

“Please, God, keep him safe. Keep our town safe.” The wood door shuddered and heaved as the wind ripped across the Kansas plains.

She should go to the basement.

As she turned away from the door it blew open. And there he was, bloody and heaving as he carried their dog into the house. His dog. Chico had been hers, but after the divorce, he picked Colt.

The dog had broken her heart, too. Each time she’d bring him back home, the dog would run back to Colt’s.

“Colt.” She froze for a second and then came to life again, because the house shuddered and the wind outside had changed. It wasn’t blowing straight at the house the way it had. Windows on all sides seemed to be taking a beating from wind and rain, leaves sticking to the glass.

“Get to the basement.” Colt’s blond hair was rain-soaked and plastered to his head. A streak of blood marked his cheek. “Lexi, go!”

She ran down the hall to the door that led to the basement. She opened it and motioned him down. Before she could go, she needed supplies. She needed something for him, or the dog, whichever one was injured. Her clinic was on the lot next to the house. She couldn’t make it over there, not in this storm.

“Lexi, down here now.”

“I’m coming.”

She grabbed a few things from the kitchen counter and ran down the stairs, slamming the door behind her. She held the rail and took careful steps in the darkened basement, glad to see a sliver of light from the small window and then the bright beam of a flashlight Colt had found.

“I’m here, in the corner.” Colt’s voice, soft and firm. He never panicked.

Lexi bit down on her lip, listening to the crash and splinter of trees and the wind slamming her house. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest and she didn’t want this to happen, not this, not now.

Not when she was finally starting to get it together again. Total destruction was a perfect marriage crumbling into a nightmare of silence and loneliness. This nightmare she couldn’t take, not the town crumbling around her.

What was God thinking? Did He know she had been at the end of her faith rope and she was just beginning to climb back up?