The Glory of Green (6 page)

"Tell me you didn't drive out to your house to get those files," Stan said.

"Picked up comfortable clothes, too. I couldn't think straight when I first saw the house, but I'm better now."

Iris Jo was a poor cousin of the McCuller family, which had owned the paper for decades before I bought it. From the first day she unlocked the door and let me in, I knew Iris Jo had held the newspaper together for years. My profit-sharing plan for employees eased my guilt that I wound up with the
Item
instead of her, but she insisted she wanted to work at the paper, not run it.

She dug in the tote bag. "Where's Tom?" she asked. "I made sandwiches."

Stan and I locked eyes. I knew he would speak the words.

"Darling, it's not good news," he said softly, putting his arms around her. He wore his usual pressroom jumpsuit but looked like a different person as he soothed Iris. "He died in the storm."

"Tom, dead? But he's always worked here," she said, almost visibly shrinking as she took in Stan's words. "This place was like home to him. He'd come in on weekends and take a nap on that dirty old couch right there."

I knew it was my turn to talk when Katy, Molly, and Linda trooped into the newsroom thirty minutes later, but the expressions on their faces told me they had heard the news.

"Tell us it isn't true," Katy said, walking over to Tom's desk and staring at the array of oddities he kept there. Her eyes were red and swollen. "Please tell us it's a bad rumor, that the cops got it wrong, that it was someone else."

"I wish I could."

Before I could move, Katy, tears rolling down her cheeks, picked up the old-fashioned green visor that Tom put on the minute he walked into the newsroom and took off the minute he left.

"How will I know how to write without him to help me?" she asked.

"He was so nice to us, said we weren't half bad for kids," Molly said, so somber she looked as though she might break at any moment.

"The death count is up to six," Katy said softly. "I suppose you know Asa's grandfather was among them."

I nodded. "Molly, is your family all right?"

"They went over to the nursing home where Mama works," she said. "That place has a generator and is taking in old people.I promised her I'd be careful and probably wouldn't see her until late tomorrow."

"I dropped my parents there, too," Linda said. Her parents both suffered from dementia, her mother's severe. Their care, along with her accounting work at the paper and her co-ownership of the antique mall across the street, kept her busy, but she was determined to become a top-notch reporter.

"The school was hardly hurt," Katy said. "They're opening a shelter for people who don't have a place to stay. That's one of the oldest buildings in town. I don't understand." I hated the bewildered look on her face, but it matched the way my brain felt.

"Alex said you want to put out an extra edition tomorrow," Linda said.

"I do." The words sounded odd for a moment. Had I uttered them in front of the church this very day?

"I don't even know what an extra is," Katy said.

"It's a special edition of a newspaper when there's a big story," Molly said. "I didn't think anyone did them anymore."

"They're rarely produced," I said. "But this is a historic day in Green. We'll offer it as a service to our readers, single copy only. We won't try to deliver it to houses."

"Good thing because there aren't that many houses left," Linda said.

Everyone gravitated to Tom's desk, despite my thought that we would move to the conference room. Tammy and Walt arrived after we started.

"Deaths?" I asked as soon as they walked in the door.

"Seven," Tammy said, moving to the group, tears running down her face. "Two dozen critically injured at the hospital here, with a dozen more transported either to Shreveport or Alexandria. Many less serious but needing medical care.Here are pictures." She turned her digital camera to me, and I squinted to see.

"You need glasses," she said.

"I'll run right out and get a pair."

She put her arm around my shoulder, gave me a slight squeeze, and then stepped back to photograph the staff at work on the paper.

Within minutes we knew we needed consistent electricity and Internet access to prepare the pages in the morning. They could be e-mailed to a press yet to be arranged.

"Bossy is out," Stan said, referring to our old press. "She won't run off this generator."

I gathered my thoughts while Linda and Katy wrote preliminary stories, and Tammy worked on her photos. Walt sat in the corner, conferring quietly with Iris.

I made two trips to the courthouse to check in with Alex and hear what Eva had to say. Walt, whom I had dated briefly when I moved to Green, walked with me both times "for protection," leaving Tammy to edit her photos.

As we walked out of the newspaper building, I stumbled on the stairs, and he took my arm.

"I didn't intend to spend my wedding night with you," I said, trying to make a joke but on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry about Tom and Levi . . . and your wedding day," he said, "but I'm thankful you're in Green. I don't know of anyone else who could have handled this story the way you will."

"Thank you," I said and straightened my shoulders. "I hope you're right."

A new group of volunteers had arrived at the command center, and Eva ruled. Her voice was scratchy, but she looked as professional as if it were a weekday morning at the department store she owned.

"You need rest," I told her. "By light of day we both know the work will be greater." I glanced over at the contentious Jerry, snoring with his head on a desk. "We'll need you to lead us."

"The roads are almost impassable until we get trees cut," Eva said. "I'm planning to sleep upstairs in one of the nice quiet courtrooms. We may not have power back for a few days, but they're trying to get special equipment downtown. Phones, too. They said it could be a week or more. The governor's office called. He'll be here within a day or two."

Walt and I walked silently back to the paper.

With emotions as scattered as my possessions, I called Linda and Molly to my office. "I need you to go to the hotel room Chris and I have reserved in Shreveport. It's the only way I can think of to make sure we get the paper out with no power here. Linda, you have the best computer skills. Molly, you're going to need to lay out news pages since Tom isn't here.Can you do that?"

"I can try," Molly said.

"Set up the computers, get a few hours of sleep, and have the pages done by eleven tomorrow morning. I'll e-mail headlines and photos and check the pages from the computer in the courthouse.

"Tammy, go to Walt's and post pictures and expanded updates. You'll have to type these stories in," I said, pulling the pages out of the printer. "Include a request for reader contributions—eyewitness stories, photos, whatever they've got.The only way we'll be able to do this story is with help from the community.

"We'll have a lot of ground to cover at daybreak," I said."Stan, will you make sure Katy gets home safe and get Iris back to the Lakeside?"

I glanced down at my updated to-do list. "Iris, ask them to hold a room for Chris and me if they possibly can. Tell them we may need it for quite a while."

Blank stares greeted me. In the drama I had forgotten to tell them about my house.

"It blew away," I said. "Let's call it a day."

"Before we go," Katy said, "we have one more thing to do."

She dug around in her desk and came up with the paint used to list the names of those who died on the front window, a long-standing
News-Item
tradition, to keep readers informed between editions.

We walked together to the lobby and stood silently while she painted the words. "Tom McNutt. Awesome Journalist.Our friend."

Everyone had left by the time Chris returned to the paper, carrying two sleeping bags borrowed from his brother. As soon as I unlocked the front door, he laid the gear down and folded me into his arms. He looked as tired as I felt.

"Your family?" I asked. "The dogs?"

"Every house is damaged one way or the other. That big pine in the side yard at Mama and Daddy's is now in the guest bedroom. My brothers will take care of them for the time being, but I need to tell you something else."

A dozen names ran through my mind before Chris could continue. "Who?" I whispered.

"Mannix. He's hurt, and I'm not sure he'll make it. When the tree fell, he was trapped under the metal roof on the back porch. The vet doesn't have power and he's helping injured people as well as animals. I always thought it was a cliché, but it's a war zone out there."

I had a soft spot in my heart for Mannix, the big mutt who had terrified me when he wound up on my porch injured. He reminded me of how tentative and fearful I had been when I first moved to Green.

"We can't lose Mannix," I said. "We can't."

"We've done all we can," Chris said "Let's set up camp in your office and try to get a little rest. Tomorrow will be a long day."

The warmth and strength of my husband comforted me as I fell asleep. Holly Beth snuggled beside me.

Could the best day of your life also be the worst?

The Dramatic Director of Greater Green Theatrical Society, who lives in the Cold Water community, has issued an emergency change-of-plans announcement for the group's summer production. "While we had our hearts set on
The Wizard of Oz,
we have decided to perform
I Told You So,
a play written by Green's own Patricia Pullig. Tryouts will be announced after things calm down."

—The Green News-Item

A
commotion outside woke me.

"We've got company," Chris yelled from the lobby.

"Don't they know it's rude to pop in on newlyweds?" I mumbled, running my hand through my tangled hair and frowning down at the wrinkled clothes I had slept in. For a split second the memory of the tornado eluded me, skirting around my brain like a wasp looking for someone to sting.

"You're probably going to want to see this," my husband said, louder this time.

"Behold the bride," I said, walking into the lobby, trying to smooth my hair and my shirt at the same time.

"Good morning, wife," Chris said. Wearing a pair of warm-up pants and a Green High Rabbits shirt, he looked like an advertisement for an outdoor catalog while I felt like a candidate for a TV program on how not to dress.

A gargantuan motor home was parked in the newspaper lot, and a crew of people in matching T-shirts scurried around, setting up a satellite dish and a host of items I didn't recognize.The sun was barely up, but the artificial lights made it look like midday.

An attractive, familiar-looking woman was applying lipstick, no mirror apparently needed, and even at this distance I could see her rub her tongue over her teeth and practice a smile.

"What in the world?" I asked. "Who are those people, and why are they in my parking lot?"

"You're the journalist here, but I'm guessing that would be the media," Chris said.

I turned the bolt and stepped outside, distracted at once by the tornado damage visible by daylight.

"Look at my beautiful Bradford pears," I said to Chris."They're split in half." Bloom-filled limbs lay on the pavement."Wonder where the awning from the antique mall went?"

Chris pointed to the paper rack lying on its side in the parking lot, Rose's awning perfectly balanced on top of it. An ice chest lay next to it.

"Were you witnesses to the tornado?" a voice asked from a few feet away. "Did you take shelter in this building?"

I turned to see a young African American man with a clipboard standing near the bottom of the steps. He had the name "Byron" stitched on his shirt, right over a network logo.

"May we help you?" Chris asked.

"We'd like to interview you for a broadcast on the Green tornado," the man said. "We'll be live in five minutes."

I glanced at my watch. It was six fifty-eight, nearly twelve hours to the minute since the sanctuary doors had opened and I had started down the aisle toward Chris. The beauty of the moment flickered across my brain.

"I'm Lois Barker—ummm, Craig—Lois Barker Craig," I said, holding out my hand. "I'm the owner of the local newspaper.You're going to need to move your vehicle because my staff is due any minute."

My voice sounded rude, but I longed for even a snippet of control. Besides, our extra edition wouldn't be out for at least five hours, and I didn't like seeing the competition in my own front yard.

"You'll have to take that up with my boss," the news guy said. "We drove overnight from Atlanta and we're about to start our broadcast. I'm Byron, breaking news producer."

"I believe I'll leave this one to my wife," Chris said. "Lois, I'm going to do a quick check around the area. I'll meet you back here in fifteen minutes."

"Coward," I said into his ear as he reached in to give me a hug.

Rose walked over from her antique shop, around the corner of the gigantic van. "Well, if it isn't the newlyweds," she said."Don't you think the RV is a bit much?"

I could tell she was trying to be cheerful, but she looked worn out and her eyes were swollen.

"The media," I said in an exaggerated snarl. "Can't take 'em anywhere."

"Oh my," she said and held up a grocery sack. "I didn't bring enough biscuits for everyone."

"Biscuits?" Chris said, turning quickly.

"Did you get power back?" I asked. I wasn't sure which of the two thoughts excited me more, food or electricity.

"Gas stove," she said. "I came to check on things at the antique mall. Figured you and Chris wouldn't be sharing a romantic breakfast, so brought a few things. I'm here to help in any way needed."

"Do you have a tow truck?" I asked.

"Ma'am, I need you immediately," Byron said, tapping his foot and eyeing the biscuit Chris was wolfing down.

"I'll be right back," I said.

"Your name again, ma'am?"

"Lois Barker Craig," I said. "Owner of
The Green News-Item.
I realize this is an unusual circumstance, but you can't block our building."

As I walked with him to the van, one part of my mind surveyed damage and cataloged the extensive chores ahead of me. The other wanted to push the TV crew out of the way and regain control of my little piece of Green.

"And here with me live is . . ." the attractive woman glanced down at the tablet the guy handed her, "the owner of the local newspaper, Lois Craig. Thank you for joining us on what must be a very difficult morning."

"Joining you?"

"Can you tell us about what you were doing when the tornado hit, Ms. Craig?"

"I was serving cake and punch."

"Anything else?" she asked, an edge to her voice.

"I was thinking how much fun the next few days were going to be."

I babbled my way through the ambush interview and realized I must look like one of those yokels I made fun of on national news programs.

At least I used proper grammar.

I cried when my brothers and their families came to the paper to say goodbye.

"Are you sure you'll be all right?" they asked. "We'll stay if we can help."

"Your biggest help is giving Chris and me a room at the motel," I said, trying to keep a light tone. With people out of their homes and the influx of members of the media, spare beds were hard to come by, and I wanted to stake a claim on one for us.

"This wasn't the wedding we thought we'd be attending," one of my sisters-in-law said. "But we couldn't be happier for you. Chris is a wonderful guy."

"We like him a lot," my youngest brother said. "Never thought you'd choose such a winner."

Tears rolled freely as they climbed into their rental car. My young niece leaned out the window with the bouquet I had handed her as I walked to the altar. I touched one of the flowers tenderly. The blossoms had opened a little since last night and smelled like a new bottle of perfume.

"Do you want it back, Aunt Lois?" she asked, thrusting it toward me.

"I want you to have it," I said.

"You'd better get back to work, sister," my older brother said. "Mom would be so proud of you."

On a regular day in Green, the good-byes would have taken longer than my wedding, everyone needing to hug every member of my family and say something sweet. Today, the words were quick with a promise of a return visit.

At my insistence, Chris went to check on Mannix before he started his day of hard labor. He returned looking tireder than after an August football scrimmage game. "The vet says he's hanging on, but he didn't bounce back ovenight. At best, he's probably going to lose a leg."

My head hurt as I heard the news and sent Chris off for rescue work, which was to start with a brief prayer service in the Grace Chapel parking lot.

"Give everyone my love," I said. "Tell them I'm thinking of them."

"It'll be one of the saddest church services we've ever had," Chris said.

Getting ready for the extra edition to come from a rented press in Alexandria, the staff rolled up its sleeves with grim determination, worse for wear but committed to putting together a near perfect report. The anecdotes were haunting.

"We were huddled in the hall closet when the roof blew off," a woman on a cot at the school gym said. "I thought we would be sucked right out through the ceiling."

"The hail hit my car so hard it broke the windows out," a young waitress said. "But it hardly touched my boyfriend's car in the driveway next to it."

Community correspondents e-mailed tale after tale, without being reminded.

"Miss Mattie and Miss Hattie West invite anyone needing shelter in the Pear Tree Road area to come see them," wrote one of our regulars. " We have an extra bed and plenty of rooms for pallets," Mattie said. "Hattie said to be sure to let folks know that they are equipped to handle cats."

"A photo album that appears to belong to the Dalzell family has been located in the ditch behind the home of Mary and Pete Nolen. They will hold onto it until you can get by," another correspondent wrote.

"Softball-size hail fell on the other side of Bayou Lake," one volunteer reporter wrote. "Thank goodness we don't have livestock because it could have knocked out a cow."

Nearly all of their reports included a message for me and the staff, offering thoughts and prayers about Tom and announcing their readiness to do whatever they could to help. I knew as soon as the streets were cleared and power restored, trays of homemade food would pour in.

Many stories involved hurt or missing pets, and I held Holly Beth in my lap while I edited them.

"My Colby, the bravest dog ever, shielded me with her body," one elderly woman said.

"Peanut and Pistol are the smartest cats," a farmer said."They hid under the mower in the shed, and we had to coax them out."

"My dog shot from my arms like a rocket," a teacher from Green High said.

"My puppy flew to the top of a tree," I wanted to add.

Katy, with tears in her eyes, painted the names of the dead underneath Tom's name on the newspaper window, adding a word or two about each person.

The first extra edition of the
Item
since the bombing of Pearl Harbor was trucked back to Green by noon.

The huge headline was in all capital letters and blasted off the page: TORNADO HITS GREEN; SEVEN CONFIRMED DEAD. The smaller head underneath continued the grim news: Dozens of Buildings Destroyed; Thousands Without Power.Most of the page was filled with an early-morning photograph by Tammy of an entire block wiped clean, a tea kettle resting on a set of steps with no house in sight.

The first copies were snapped up by regional and national journalists who seemed to have been airlifted into town by the dozens. Everywhere I or any other member of the staff turned, a reporter thrust a microphone in our faces.

The mayor looked regal as she gave interview after interview.She had changed into a fresh outfit and scarcely showed any strain, even though Alex told me she stayed up most of the night and personally tried to connect with the families of those who died.

Readers lined up outside the building to get copies of the newspaper, and Stan and Iris Jo rounded up a handful of carriers to sell them by the side of the road.

Once the
Item
was produced and distributed, the staff gathered in the conference room. Necessities were at a premium with most restaurants and stores closed, and Walt appeared with a large array of food and bottled water from a little grocery store about forty miles north. "I thought you could eat the fried chicken now, and save the fruit and chips for later."

"Some lucky woman needs to snap you right up," I said, my stomach growling at the smell of the boxes of chicken.

"Good idea, boss." Tammy gave me a friendly nudge and nestled up against her fiancé.

For a split second, things almost felt right.

Then I remembered Tom and Papa Levi and Mannix and my house and the many who were hurt and hurting. Suddenly the chicken didn't smell quite so good.

"How about if I say a blessing?" I asked. Rarely did a meal start in Green without a prayer. Never was I the one to offer thanks in a group. But if the staff was surprised, they didn't show it. I thanked God for the food and for keeping us safe and begged for strength for the days ahead.

Iris Jo, who had shown up for work before any of the others, looked at me with tears in her eyes. "Thank you for that."