Blessings of The Heart. Valerie Hansen
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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.
Racing toward the car, Mitch belatedly realized that Ryan wasn’t right behind him. He tossed Bud into the back seat and was about to return to the house for his other son when Ryan appeared, leaning into the wind and struggling to make headway through the pelting rain.
“Had to stop and get the bear,” the boy shouted.
Mitch was already standing in mud and water up to his ankles. Fortunately, Ryan was able to get the passenger door open without his help.
Sliding behind the wheel, Mitch leaned over and pulled Ryan into the car beside him, then started the motor while the boy struggled to shut the heavy door against the force of the gale.
“Where’s the dog? Who’s got the dog?” Mitch shouted over the combined furor of the storm and his upset children.
“I don’t know,” Ryan hollered back. “Want me to go see?”
“No. Stay right where you are. I’ll get him.”
The moment Mitch opened the driver’s door the soggy little dog jumped in, bounded across his feet and scrambled over the back of the front seat as if he’d always done it that way.
The boys cheered.
“Belt yourselves in!” Mitch ordered.
He put the car in reverse, praying the tires wouldn’t slip in the slimy mud and wishing he’d had enough foresight to bring his four-wheel-drive pickup truck instead of the cumbersome passenger car.
Gently, evenly, he pressed the accelerator. Every instinct screamed for him to gun the motor, to race onto the paved road as fast as he could. But he knew better than to try.
The rear wheels slipped, spun. Mitch eased up on the gas, and they finally caught. He prayed a silent thanks to his heavenly Father, then added a fervent, soul-deep plea for further help, just as he had every single day and night his sons had been missing. Nothing like a disaster to bring out the spiritual side of a man, was there? Well, at least something good had come out of that time of horrible worry and loneliness.
Mitch’s hands clenched the wheel.
The heavy vehicle slipped and slid in and out of ruts as it inched backward out of the valley.
Even if there had been room to turn the car around, he wouldn’t have tried the maneuver in this weather. Too much chance of going off the road and getting mired in one of the ditches that ran along both sides.
He hardly had time to think about that danger before they skidded off the road and were mired up to their axles! Terrific. Now what? He glanced at his sons.
Ryan gave him a cynical look in reply. “Smooth move, Dad.”
Under other circumstances Mitch would have countered that comment, but right now he had more important things on his mind than the boy’s pessimism. He had to decide quickly what to do with his wet, shivering kids and the soggy dog. Given the current conditions, staying in the car was out of the question.
It didn’t take a genius to see that a short hike to the estate up the hill was the only sensible course of action. For the sake of the kids, he’d have to swallow his pride and ask for help. Again.
Too bad he hadn’t tried to make a better impression on the wealthy woman who lived there the first time he’d knocked on her door.
Getting Bud and Ryan up the hill was a lot harder for Mitch than climbing with the bucket had been. It was also dark and wet, and everybody was clammy and slippery.
Mitch finally slung the smaller boy under one arm like a sack of potatoes so he could carry him and still have one hand free to grab low-hanging tree branches to aid his ascent.
Ryan tried valiantly to keep up but made little forward progress while he was trying to hold on to the soggy dog. Finally, he set Barney down to fend for himself and concentrated on toting only the drenched teddy bear while Mitch struggled along with Bud.
By the time they topped the rise and came out of the forest onto the lawn of the estate, Mitch was so exhausted he dropped to his knees.
Fighting to catch his breath, he set Bud on his feet, “Okay. You can walk now.”
Though the rain had slackened some, it was still falling. Gusting wind made it feel colder. He pointed toward the house, thankful a few lights were on inside so the boys could see it clearly. “That’s where we’re going. It’s not much farther.”
Ryan drew up beside his father and whistled. “Whoa. Cool. Why didn’t you bring us here in the first place?”
“Look, the only reason we’re here tonight is because we need shelter and a dry place to sleep,” Mitch explained. “In the morning we’ll head back down to the cabin and see what kind of shape it’s in.”
“Bummer.”
“Get over it.” Mitch stood. “Come on, fellas. I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing. Grab the dog and let’s go.”
Chapter Three
B rianne was still sitting in the kitchen when she thought she heard a knock on the front door. Chalking it up to her imagination, she didn’t move. As isolated as the house was, she hardly ever had company, even on a nice day. On a wretched night like this it was unheard of.
A second knock made her jump. “Who in the world can that be?” There was only one way to find out—answer the door. But what if it was a burglar?
“A burglar wouldn’t knock,” she countered, chuckling softly. Just in case, however, she’d leave the chain fastened till she saw who it was. Too bad she didn’t have a baseball bat handy.
“Sure, then if it is a burglar I can ask him if he wants