Valerie Hansen - Blessings of The Heart

“I have to go potty,” Bud announced.

“In a minute,” Mitch promised. “Right now we’re getting Daddy’s bed out of the way so it won’t get wet.”

Ryan shot him a knowing look. “That’s not the only thing that’ll be wet if you don’t take him to the bathroom. When he says he has to go, he has to go.”

“Okay, okay.”

It suddenly occurred to Mitch that the facilities were outside and it was pouring. He glanced at Ryan. The boy was sporting a sly grin.

Mitch frowned. “Did you take your brother to the outhouse before dark, like I told you?”

“Yup.” Ryan’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “But he’d never seen one before. He was scared to go in.”

“Why didn’t you go in with him?”

“It was too crowded.” His smile spread from ear to ear. “Guess you’ll have to make the trip, huh?”

Mitch sighed, vowing to add a portable commode to the list of supplies he intended to get the next time he drove into town. He reached for his jeans and pulled them on over his pajamas, then slid his bare feet into his boots. “I guess I will. Help your brother put his shoes on.”

He grabbed a waterproof plastic poncho, slung it over his head and held the front part out of the way while he hoisted his youngest son in his arms and covered him with it.

“I’ll take Bud now. Ryan, you fix the beds while I’m gone. When I come back I’ll help you. Okay?”

Ryan nodded compliantly.

Looking terribly smug, he handed his father a flashlight.

The humidity gathering beneath the plastic gear had already brought up beads of sweat on Mitch’s forehead.

The moment Ryan opened the door for him, the rain gusted in, soaking the floorboards and puddling on the uneven surface. Lightning illuminated the yard as if a floodlight had been turned on. Thunder crashed and rolled, echoing across the hills.

If Mitch hadn’t been obliged to make a mad dash for the outhouse he would have stopped then and there and told his eldest son a few things about following orders in the future. As it was, he figured he would be doing well to keep his balance and get there and back in one piece. Discipline would have to wait.

From her second-story vantage point, Bree could see the recently dug pond that had caused her new neighbor such consternation. Every time there was a flash of lightning the water level looked higher. If this deluge kept up, the creek he’d mentioned was probably going to start flowing again very soon.

“I think I’ll still run a pipe from our well so they’ll have decent drinking water all the time,” she told herself. “That’s only fair.” Besides, doing that would keep the neighbors from disturbing her solitude by hiking up the hill to fetch water day after day. She made a disgusted face. Did having an ulterior motive cancel out the benefits of doing a good deed? “I sure hope not.”

As she watched, the water level in the pond continued to rise, then appeared to stabilize even though the rain was still coming down hard. Her brow furrowed, and she peered into the darkness, hoping for another bright burst so she could see better. When it did finally come, she could have sworn there was less water in the pond than before. How strange.

Puzzled, she watched the anomaly for a few more minutes, then pulled a light cotton robe over her nightgown and went downstairs to make sure her computer was disconnected in case of a lightning strike. There wasn’t much point in going back to bed while the storm raged. She’d never be able to sleep when the flashes were so bright she could see them through her closed eyelids!

Bree got herself a glass of milk and settled into a chair at the kitchen table. She noticed that her hands were trembling slightly. Undue concern during bad weather was a new phenomenon for her. There seemed to be something particularly disconcerting about the ferocity of Arkansas summer storms. Maybe it was the stories her part-time housekeeper, Emma, had told about that kind of weather spawning tornadoes. Or maybe it was simply the fact that Bree was alone in the enormous house with no one to talk to. Most of the time, that was exactly how she wanted it. Tonight, however, she almost wished it was time for Emma to drive out from Serenity and clean the place again.

Thunder rattled the windows. Bree winced. “Guess I’m not much of a country girl,” she murmured. “I’d sure like to ask somebody a few questions right about now.”

Mitch had pulled on his leather boots without lacing them, and they were totally soaked. Thanks to the blowing rain and stifling humidity, the rest of him wasn’t much drier.

Bud had obviously never had to rough it before. Consequently, their foray into the storm had taken far longer than Mitch had anticipated.

By the time he returned Bud to the cabin, Mitch was furious with Ryan. Pulling off his slicker, he glared at the boy. “You knew this would happen, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t know it was going to rain,” Ryan answered, acting subdued under his father’s ire. “It’s not my fault this place is a dump. It’s worse than going to camp. At least they had the bathrooms in the same building.”

“You went to camp?”

“Yeah. Once. Mom sent us. I didn’t like it much.”

“No doubt.” Mitch noticed that Ryan was fidgeting more than usual. Since the sound of running, dripping water had been serenading them for hours, he suspected the power of suggestion was getting to Ryan the same way it already had to Bud.

“You wouldn’t happen to have to use the bathroom, too, would you?” Mitch asked with a slow drawl.

“Me? Naw.”

“You sure? I could lend you my poncho. You wouldn’t get too wet.”

Ryan eyed him with obvious misgivings. “You mean you wouldn’t come with me?”

“Nope. One of us has to stay in here and watch your brother. If you go, that means I stay.” He could see the indecisiveness in his son’s face turn to stubborn resolve.

“Fine. Gimme the raincoat. I’m out of here.”

Mitch watched him don the man-size slicker and pick up the flashlight. The only thing that hinted at anxiety was a slight pause in Ryan’s stride as he opened the door and faced the storm. Then he slammed the door and was gone.

The kid has guts, Mitch told himself with pride. He hadn’t been nearly that brave when he was only eight. Of course, he hadn’t been compelled to care for a younger sibling, either. That responsibility had undoubtedly forced Ryan to grow up way before his time—which was a real shame. If possible, Mitch was going to teach the poor kid to enjoy being a child again.

Warmer thoughts of Ryan had just about blotted out the last of Mitch’s rancor when the door burst open and his son ran in, shouting, “Look out! It’s a flood!”

If it hadn’t been for the wild look in his son’s eyes, Mitch might have doubted his truthfulness. Instead, he joined him at the door and shined the flashlight on the yard to assess the situation for himself.

“It’s just runoff water,” Mitch assured the frightened boy. “Nothing to worry about.”

Ryan grabbed the light and pointed it toward the creek bed. “Oh, yeah? How about over there?”

“That’s just…” Reality struck, bringing Mitch’s heart to his throat and making his pulse race. He whispered, “Dear God.”

“You told me not to cuss.”

“That wasn’t a curse. See the debris in the water? Those are whole trees, not twigs. I didn’t know it was raining hard enough to do that.” He whirled. “Come on. We’re getting out of here. Follow me. I’ll get Bud.”

“Want your raincoat?” Ryan held it out.

“Forget it. I’d rather be wet than get caught by that water coming down the canyon.”

Mitch scooped up his youngest son and ran for the front door. Bud immediately started to bawl.