Twice Blessed (14 page)

The wind grasped her in dozens of hands and tried to shove her along the porch. When she wobbled, stronger hands caught her. She gazed up into Noah's taut face, lit by the lantern on the wagon and the lamps in the house.

“I should go back in and blow out the lamps!” she cried.

“Why? If the water rises much more, they'll be doused. If the house escapes the flooding, the lamps will burn themselves out.” He held out his hand.

Again she did not have to ask him what he wanted. She pulled the frame out of her pocket and handed it to him. He wrapped it in a piece of oilcloth and stuck it under his coat. Draping another piece of the heavy cloth over her shoulders, he steered her to the wagon and handed her, from the upper step, right onto the front seat.

Emma gasped as the rain struck her face as it was driven by the wind. She looked back to see the others beneath a huge tarpaulin covered with enough pieces of bark for her to know Noah must have taken it from where he had been protecting dried wood from the weather.

“Will you be able to drive?” Noah jumped over the railing and grasped the reins of his horse.

“Yes.” She shivered as Gladys put Belinda, who was now wearing the kitchen tablecloth over her head, on the seat beside Emma. The little girl held an umbrella over Emma's head, but it could not protect her from the rain that was nearly vertical. “Sit down, Belinda, and keep the umbrella over your head.”

“But, Emma, you'll get all wet.”

“I have to be able to see where your father is going.”

With a lead that was connected to Toby, Noah asked, “Which way?”

“To the left.”

He laughed tightly. “
That
I knew.”

Emma smiled in spite of the rain. “I guess you did. We'll be turning left again onto a road about a half mile from here. It should lead us right to the bridge. If it's out, Samuel Jennings's farm is about another mile past it.”

Noah bowed his head as the storm swirled around them and gave the command to Patches to start. Behind him, he heard Emma echoing his command to her horse. He tried to see through the storm. Just as he was going to call to Emma to darken the lantern, its light vanished.

Water splashed beneath the horse, and he heard the wagon striking the puddles in the deepening pool where his yard had been. He should have gotten them out of here after the previous time he had checked the barn. Instead he had waited, hoping the river would halt its steady progress up the hillside. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the bright windows of the house. There was nothing there that could not be replaced … again.

Just where Emma had told him there would be a road to the left, he turned. The road here was thick mud. He could feel Toby straining to pull the wagon through it. If the old horse refused to move forward, they would be reduced to walking. But the old horse kept going.

“Here!” called Emma. “Turn left here to get to the bridge.”

Wondering how she could see what he did not, he reminded himself she had been traveling these roads for seven years. He squinted through the rain and saw a narrow road on the left. It looked barely wide enough between two lines of trees to allow the wagon through. He turned onto it and looked back to be certain Emma could steer her wagon between the trees.

“Keep going!” she shouted as she competently guided the horse onto the path. “This bridge isn't too much higher above the creek than the other one.”

Wondering if there was anything this woman could not handle with competence, Noah continued down the road. The roar of the creek became deafening. When he released Toby's head, he drew his horse beneath the trees as he let the wagon pass until he could take the lantern off its side. He saw Emma's grim but resolute expression when she glanced at him.

“I'm going ahead to see if the bridge is still there,” he said.

“Good! I'm not sure if I could turn the wagon here, and Toby balks at going backward very far.”

Noah bent and kissed her quickly. He saw her smile as he opened the lantern. Taking that sight with him to help battle off the storm, he rode through the trees until he was ahead of the wagon. Back on the road, he followed it toward the creek.

Water was being thrown up onto the shore, but the bridge was still there. He sighed with relief until he noted how narrow and rickety it appeared in the lantern light. Hearing the wagon rattle up behind him, he held the lantern high, so Emma could see him. He went back to where she sat next to Belinda.

Emma's hair was in drenched strands around her shoulders, but she smiled as she said, “It's still here.”

“I'm not sure how strong it is, so I'll go first.”

“Noah—”

“Don't argue with me about this, Emma. I'm not going to risk all of you.”

“Just yourself?”

He took one of her hands off the reins and pressed his mouth to it. He was sure the water must sizzle away, for her skin was lusciously warm, even in the midst of this damp, chilled night. Or was it his own reaction to her loveliness and her concern for him? He could not recall the last time someone had been concerned
for
him, just
about
what he might do.

“Wait here,” he said. “I'll call back if it's safe to traverse.”

“We could just go on to Samuel Jennings's farm.”

“I know you want to check on the store.” Seeing her eyes grow wide with astonishment, he did not give her a chance to reply. He rode toward the bridge.

His horse shied, and he guessed Patches was spooked by the sound of the fast water. Patting the horse on the neck, he swung down out of the saddle. He considered leaving Patches here while he crossed the bridge, but the horse's weight would help determine if it was safe for the wagon to cross.

He drew in a deep breath, wiped rain out of his eyes, and grabbed the reins. The bridge creaked even before he stepped onto it, and he knew it was fighting the current that was trying to wash it away. Holding the lantern out so he could watch where he placed his feet, he put his foot on the bridge. It was surprisingly solid. He crossed the boards, wanting to cheer when Patches stepped off on the other side.

He thought of lashing Patches's reins to a bush, but let them fall to the ground. If for some reason he could not get back across, he did not want the horse to be bound here and drown. Patches whinnied lowly, and he patted the horse's haunches.

“Saying thank you or good-bye?” he asked, then laughed. “I'm talking to horses again.”

He raced back across the bridge and lifted the children out of the wagon. Lowering the back, he helped Gladys out.

“Go!” he ordered. “Get across while you can.”

Gladys grasped both children by the hand and rushed into the darkness.

He reached up to help Emma down from the driver's seat, but she cried, “What are you doing? Get over to the other side, then call me to let me know you're out of the way.”

“Do you think I'm going to let you drive this wagon across that bridge?”

“No, you aren't going to
let
me. I'm going to do it because I'm familiar with both Toby and this wagon. You aren't. That bridge is barely wide enough for the wagon to cross, and you could drive a wheel off the side and send the wagon and Toby and you into the creek.”

“Emma, be sensible.”

“
You
be sensible.” She slanted toward him, her wet palm curving along his cheek. “Go, Noah, please!”

For a moment, Emma thought Noah would argue more. Then he nodded. “But I'm going to go right in front of you so you can see where you are driving.”

“All right,” she said with reluctance. She did not want him to be on the bridge with her and the wagon. If the bridge collapsed, they would both be killed. Then Sean and Belinda would have no one but Gladys.

He grasped Toby's leading rein again and looked back at her. She slapped the reins lightly to tell Toby to go forward. Steeling herself for the old horse to refuse to go over the bridge, she released the breath burning in her chest when each step of his heavy hoofs echoed on the boards. She could barely hear the sound over the crash of the water against the bridge supports.

She shrieked when the bridge was struck. Debris hit her. Bark and twigs. A tree must have been ripped out of the ground and washed here.

“Let go of Toby!” she cried.

“Emma—”

“Go! Off the bridge! Now!”

The lantern light bounced as he raced toward the other shore. She slapped the reins on the horse's back. “Get us out of here, Toby!”

The bridge wobbled as it was battered again. She tightened her grip on the reins in case Toby got one of his strange ideas. She quickly realized the only idea he had in his head now was the same one she had. With the speed of a horse half his age, he pulled the wagon across the bridge.

She cried out in terror when one of the wheels bounced off the boards. Toby did not slow. The wagon struck the far shore, sending a concussion of pain through her. She did not release the reins as the wagon bounced up and onto solid ground.

Drawing in the reins, she closed her eyes and let the rain and wind twist around her like an insane whirlpool. She heard a crack and turned in the seat to see Noah standing by the shore. In the light from the lantern, she saw the bridge was now encased in the branches of some huge tree. The branches broke and were forced beneath the bridge even as she watched.

He walked to where she sat. Putting his hand on her knee, he asked, “How are you?”

“Tired and cold and wanting to get out of the rain,” she said, setting her hand atop his. “Let's get back to Haven.”

He smiled. “That may be the best idea I've heard all night.”

“Me, too, Noah.” She began to laugh.

“What's so amusing?”

“Noah and the flood.”

“We may need to build an ark or two if it keeps raining like this.”

She looked up at the sky. “It won't be stopping before morning.”

This time, he did not ask her how she knew about the vagaries of weather along the river. He just nodded. When he had helped the children and Gladys back into the wagon, he swung up into his saddle. He handed her the lantern, and she darkened it.

“How far are we from Haven?” he asked.

“If we don't have to bypass any water, we should be there in an hour.” Emma looked over the back of the seat. “Are you all set?”

“We're set,” Gladys answered.

“How is Sean?”

“Better,” the boy replied, his voice still weak.

Following Noah and his horse, she steered the wagon beneath the trees and toward Haven. The name had never seemed more appropriate.

CHAPTER NINE

“I am afraid it will be very crowded,” Emma said as she pulled another pillow from the very back of the linen closet. She handed it to Belinda, who carried it into the room that had become Sean's. The little girl and Gladys would be sleeping in his bed tonight. Sean had a pallet in the kitchen, where he was already asleep with Cleo and Queenie curled up against him. The two dogs had been sent to the stable because neither of them would stop barking.

“No more crowded than we would have been at my house,” Noah replied. He handed two blankets to Gladys and set two more on the floor.

Until they arrived at her house, Emma had not guessed Noah had put some supplies under the oilcloth along with Gladys and Sean. He had brought the blankets and food into the house while she was checking the store.

Although the furious rush of the river could be heard even through the downpour and the closed windows, the river's water was not close to reaching the top of the hill where Haven sat. Soaked and tired, Emma had come back to the house, promising herself she would get up early and have the store open for anyone who might need emergency supplies. She had quickly changed into dry clothes and braided her hair like Belinda's so the wet mass did not strike her on every step.

Emma watched with a smile as Belinda gave her father an enthusiastic kiss good night. Gladys steered the little girl into Sean's bedroom.

“Let me help,” Noah said as he turned to her and held out his arms.

For a moment, Emma considered throwing herself into those strong arms as she gave in to the panic she had submerged during the trip from his farm. She only handed him the blankets and pillows for the sofa in the parlor. She gathered up more of the wet clothes that had been piled in the hallway. Going downstairs, she tiptoed into the kitchen and hung them to dry by the stove.

She smiled when she smelled freshly brewed tea. Gladys must have made it before she had gone upstairs to bed. Unlike coffee, tea never kept Emma awake, and its warmth would be comforting tonight. She poured two cups, then eased back out of the kitchen, closing the door behind her so they did not disturb Sean.

“Some tea, Noah?” she asked, trying to sound cheerful.

He shook his head. “Not now.” He was at the window and staring out at the storm.

She set down both cups. Going to him, she leaned her cheek against the strong sinews of his back. Her arms slipped around him, curving up along his chest as she whispered, “Thank you for getting us all back here safely.”

“Me?
You
were our guide. If you hadn't been there, I'd probably be stuck back on the other side of the creek, bailing out the parlor now.” He cursed, then added, “I never expected to be flooded out right after we moved in there.”

“I'm so sorry.”

“You've got nothing to be sorry for.”

“You may have lost your home.”

“It's a house. Everything in it can be replaced,” he murmured. “I'm just very grateful to you.”

“
Just
very grateful?” she whispered.

With a low groan, he faced her and pulled her up against his chest. She wrapped one arm around his shoulder. Her fingertips grazed the rough texture of his cheek before stroking his lips, which could burn into her, revealing the pain and fear she had hidden during their precarious journey back to Haven. His face blurred as tears of commiseration filled her eyes.