Before the Storm. Diane Chamberlain
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his friend, from the janitor at school to the stranger who smiled at him on the beach. Over the past few years, though, I was glad Keith and Andy had drifted apart. Keith got picked up for drinking once, for truancy a couple of times, and last summer, for possession of an ounce of marijuana. That was the last sort of influence I needed over Andy. Andy longed to fit in and, given his impulsiveness, I worried how far he’d go to reach that goal.
We were sitting again and I felt ashamed that I’d paid so little attention to the service. Reverend Bill swept his eyes over the crowd as he vowed that “a new Drury Memorial will rise from the ashes of the old,” embracing everyone with a look of tenderness, skipping over my children and me. Literally. I saw his eyes light on the man sitting next to Maggie, then instantly slip to the Carmichaels on the other side of Andy. We were the heathens in the crowd, and Reverend Bill carried a grudge for a good long time. I was willing to bet his eyes never lit on Marcus either when he looked in the direction of the firefighters. Still, I felt for the man. Even though his congregation was planning to build a new church, he’d lost this one. I knew some families were talking about suing him for negligence. Others wondered if Reverend Bill himself might have set the fire for the insurance money. I was no fan of the man, but that was ridiculous.
My gaze drifted to Marcus. His face was slack and I could suddenly see the first sign of age in his features. He was young. Thirty-eight. Three years younger than me. For the first time, I could begin to see how he’d look as he got older, something I’d never have the joy of seeing in Jamie, who’d only been thirty-six when he died.
Reverend Bill and Trish Delphy were changing places at the podium. Trish licked her lips as she prepared to speak to the crowd.
“Our community will be forever changed by this terrible tragedy,” she said. “We mourn the loss of life and we pray for those still recovering from their injuries. But I’d ask you to look around you and see the strength in this room. We’re strong and resilient, and while we’ll never forget what happened in Surf City on Saturday, we’ll move forward together.
“And now,” she continued, “Dawn Reynolds has an announcement she’d like to make.”
Ben Trippett’s girlfriend looked uncomfortable as she took her place behind the podium.
“Um,” she began, “I just wanted to let y’all know that I’m coordinating the fund-raising to help the fire victims.” The paper she held in her hand shivered and I admired her for getting up in front of so many people when it obviously made her nervous. “The Shriners have come through like always to help out with medical expenses, but there’s still more we need to do. A lot of the families have no insurance. I’m working with Barry Gebhart, who y’all know is an accountant in Hampstead, and we set up a special fund called the Drury Memorial Family Fund. I hope you’ll help out with a check you can give me or Barry today, or you can drop by Jabeen’s Java anytime I’m working. Barry and I are thinking of some fund-raising activities and we’d like your suggestions in that…um…about that.” She looked down at the paper. “We’ll make sure the money gets to the families who need it the most.”
She sat down again at the end of our row. I saw Ben, his head still bandaged, smile at her.
Trish stood up once more at the podium.
“Thank you, Dawn,” she said. “We have a generous community with a generous spirit and I know we’ll do all in our power to ease the suffering of the families hurt by the fire.
“Now I’d like to recognize the firefighters and EMS workers who did such an amazing job under grueling circumstances. Not only our Town of Surf City Fire Department, but those firefighters from Topsail Beach, North Topsail Beach and the Surf City Volunteer Fire Department as well.”
Applause filled the building, and as it ebbed, I saw Trish drop her gaze to us.
“And I’d like to ask Andy Lockwood to stand, please.”
Beside me, I felt Andy start.
“Go ahead, sweetie,” I whispered. “Stand up.”
He stood up awkwardly.
Before the mayor could say another word, applause broke out again, and people rose to their feet.
“Are they clapping for me?” Andy asked.
“Yes.” I bit my lip to hold back my tears.
“Why did they stand up?”
“To honor you and thank you.”
“Because I’m a hero?”
I nodded.
He grinned, turning around to wave at the crowd behind us. I heard some subdued laughter.
“Can I sit down now?” Andy asked finally.
“Yes.”
He lowered himself to his seat again, his cheeks pink. It took another minute for the applause to die down.
“As most of you know,” Trish said, “Andy not only found a safe way out of the church, but he risked his own life to go back in and lead many of the other children to safety. Our loss is devastating, but it would have been much worse without Andy’s quick thinking and calm in the face of chaos.”
Andy sat up straighter than usual, his chest puffed out a bit, and I knew he was surprised to find himself suddenly the darling of Topsail Island.
Chapter Seven
Andy
MOM PUT HER VITAMINS IN A LINE by her plate. She ate breakfast vitamins and dinner vitamins. Maggie and I only ate breakfast ones. Maggie passed me the spinach bowl. Dumb. She knows I don’t eat spinach. I tried to give it to Mom.
“Take some, Andy,” Mom said. “While your arm is healing, you need good nutrition.”
“I have lots of nutrition.” I lifted my plate to show her my chicken part and the cut-up sweet potato.
“Okay. Don’t spill.” She put her fingers on my plate to make it go on the table again.
I ate a piece of sweet potato. They were my favorite. Mom made sweet potato pie sometimes, but she never ate any. She didn’t eat dessert because she didn’t want to ever be sick. She said too many sweet things could make you sick. Maggie and I were allowed to eat dessert because we weren’t adults yet.
“Andy,” Mom said after she swallowed all her vitamins, “your arm looks very good, but maybe you should skip the swim meet tomorrow.”
“Why?” I had to swim. “It doesn’t hurt!”
“We need to make sure it’s completely healed.”
“It is completely healed!”
“You’ve been through a lot, though. It might be good just to take a rest.”
“I don’t need a rest!” My voice was too loud for indoors. I couldn’t help it. She was pressing my start button.
“If your arm is all better, then you can.”
“It’s better enough!” I wanted to show her my arm, but I punched it out too hard and hit my glass of milk. The glass flew across the table and crashed to the floor. It broke in a million pieces and milk was all over. Even in the spinach.
Mom and Maggie stared at me with their mouths open. I saw a piece of chewed chicken in Maggie’s mouth. I knew I did an inappropriate thing. My arm did.
“I’m sorry!” I stood up real fast. “I’ll clean it up!”
Maggie catched me with her hand.
“Sit down, Panda,” she said. “I’ll do it. You might cut yourself.”
“I’ll get it.” Mom was already at the counter pulling off paper towels.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “My arm went