Page 128 of This Time Around
“The house.”He choked out the words.
“No.”My head shook.No.
“You’re safe.We’ll figure it out.But the house is gone, Rebecca.”
All the blood rushed from my body and spread to the floor.I was cold.So cold.He was wrong.He had to be.I pulled out of my brother’s hold and he let me go, he easily could have detained me, but his steps were right behind me.
“It’s just a house, honey.Just a house.You’re safe.Everyone in town is good from what I’ve heard so far.There’s so much damage all over, but it’s all stuff.”
It wasn’t just stuff.It was my house.My childhood home and the home I knew I’d always raise my children in and their children would visit.I’d be the old grandma, rocking grandbabies on the patio, watching the sunset and sneaking them sugar long after their mom and dad told them no.
I reached the top of the small staircase, my eyes unable to take in the sight.
There was nothing.
“My God.”I stumbled back, my knees gave out, but Jordan was there, his arms slamming to my stomach and pulling me against his chest.“No!”
“It’s okay,” he murmured, collapsing to the ground with me.
There was nothing.No house.A garage was down.All around me was destruction, parts of my house scattered as far as my eyes could see.Trees.Half of the barn.
“The animals,” I said, not recognizing my own voice.
“I don’t know yet.But we’ll figure it out.”
I turned into my brother’s arms and sobbed.
“I don’t knowwhere to begin.”I surveyed the area, the complete flattened home in front of me.The goat barn and pen area were fine, all the animals miraculously unharmed.The chicken coop was destroyed, and I’d lost some chickens.The rest were wandering around the ripped up grass.Beyond the main house, the guesthouse didn’t have a single speck of visible damage.It was beyond amazing.Everywhere my eyes stretched, disaster left its mark except for the guesthouse.We’d taken Joseph’s old truck out through the land, dodging down trees and chunks of my house.A showerhead here, bedding there.Clothes and papers and ground up, unidentifiable chunks of garbage or belongings flung every which way.All of it turned to shreds, like my house had been tossed into a blender and someone hit the puree switch.
“You don’t have to start today,” Jordan said.He hadn’t left my side and he was hurting more than he was sharing.He never wanted anything to do with the ranch, but this was still his home, too.
I picked up a cracked dinner plate and tossed it like a Frisbee.It slammed into a downed sweet gum tree and shattered.“I have to do something.”
The shock came in ebbs and flows.A photo here, a scrap of lace underwear beneath my feet.God.I’d seen tornado damage before but never this extensive.My belongings had to be spread through the town for miles.
“How’s town?”I asked Jordan.Our cells were still down, but he’d had to drive completely through it to get to me.
“Most of it looked okay other than downed trees.Downtown was good.Few businesses lost windows.Just the outliers were hit the worst.”
“Whitman’s?Jefferson’s?”I hated the Jeffersons, but I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.
“Whitman’s were good.Haven’t seen Jefferson’s.My priority was getting to you.”
“Good.”I stood and stretched.I didn’t even know how to begin setting up piles, what was trash, what was salvageable.For a brief moment, I thought about setting fire to all of it.
A small, white car caught my attention and I focused on the small car coming closer.“Who’s that?”
“No idea.”
It slowed at the main road, rumbled over the cattle guards and pulled in.
“Holy crap.”It left me in a breath, but I was already running.I felt him.
Without a phone, I hadn’t been able to even try to get ahold of him, but as I’d sobbed in Jordan’s lap hours ago, I’d cried harder, missing Cooper and his own strength and determination.
I met him on the drive, nowhere near the house.The car pulled to a sudden stop, wheels sliding on the gravel and then he was there climbing out of the car.
I scarcely noticed his rumpled clothes, his rolled up white and gray striped dress shirt before I flung myself at him, tears of joy and relief and fear and sadness all rushing through me.“You’re here.”
