Echoes of Danger

She didn’t, couldn’t sit down, and she wasn’t about to go into hysterics—yet. “I—We need to get a few things. And I want to look the place over. I have cattle…I’ll need to check on things.”

Bren took her arm, gently guiding her around to face him. “I’d like to help, if you’ll let me.”

She wanted to tell this intriguing man to let her alone, to leave her to wallow in a good dollop of self-pity. She wanted to scream to the heavens and ask, “why?” But Dana knew that she wouldn’t get any answers; she’d been that route before and she’d only heard silence, the killing silence of unanswered prayers and a faith that had been tested to the limit.

Oh, well, time enough to argue with God later. Right now, Stephen was looking everywhere but at her, but she knew he was waiting for her to decide what to do about this mess. She was just too shocked to think straight.

As if sensing her shock, Bren placed a hand on each of her slumping shoulders, then leaned his head down close to her face so she was forced to look him straight in the eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Shooting a desperate look toward her brother, she managed to whisper, “I can’t let him see how upset I am. He has Asperger’s syndrome—it’s a very mild form of autism. He doesn’t like any sudden changes. He’ll get even more upset and scared if I break down. He’s so brave, but it’s only because he emulates me. Don’t let me lose it, okay. Help me, please.”

She’d never begged for help before in her life, and the words let a bitter gall in her throat, but this day had gone from bad to worse and it wouldn’t take much more to push her over the edge. She certainly wasn’t in the habit of begging strangers for help, either. But this man had saved her from that storm and he was here now. The warmth of his hands on her shoulders steadied her, while his blue-black eyes guided her like a dark beacon. She clung to that guiding, dark light, deciding she’d just have to trust him. She didn’t have much choice at the moment.

Still holding her shoulders, Bren squeezed his hands against the shivering flesh underneath her damp T-shirt. “Here’s what we’re going to do,” he said, his eyes still locked with hers. “We’ll take care of what we can here, then I’ll take you into town, to your friend’s house. If you get scared, just look at me. I won’t leave you until I’m sure you’re all right.”

Feeling silly for being so weak, Dana lifted his hands away from her arms. “I’m not scared! I’m just so mad!”

Whirling, she blinked away the insane need to fall into his arms and cry like a baby. She wouldn’t burden this stranger with her troubles, but she would take advantage of his generosity. For her brother’s sake.

Marching to where Stephen sat rocking and digging with precise movements through the remnants of what had once been his prize collection of baseball cards, she patted the boy on the head. “Up, up, Stevie. Let’s see what we can salvage before that second line of thunderstorms returns.”

Stephen hurled himself up, clutching a stack of soggy cards, his eyes brimming with tears. “Need to fix these, Dana. Need these straight. They’re all wet. I don’t like them wet. I want them dry.”

“Won’t hurt to let them dry,” Dana said, silently vowing to replace each and every one of them. Motioning to Bren, she called, “Hey, you ever herded scared cattle before?”

Bren gave her a wry smile. “I’ve herded sheep. Cattle can’t be much different, right? Just show me what to do.”

Two hours later, they stood surveying the damage once again. Tired, dirty and muddy, Dana had little hope that they could rebuild. They’d herded cattle in the pouring rain of a renegade thunderstorm, with lightning dancing to the west, just to tease them and remind them who was in charge here. Luckily, most of the cattle were now safe inside their paddocks near the lower field.

The storm had concentrated on the house and surrounding buildings. All the other livestock, some chickens and pigs and the two horses, seemed to be intact, as well, in spite of the nervous squawking and fearful grunting they’d encountered after checking what remained of the barn.

Bren had helped Dana move through the house, half of which was missing, to find enough dry clothes to last them a few days. The combination laundry room/porch on the eastern side of the house was intact, and that’s where Dana had found fresh clean jeans and T-shirts. Now Stephen was wet and complaining of being hungry, and Bren, silent and alert, was watching Dana for further instructions.

Then he did something that made her smile in spite of her problems. He turned to Stephen and said, “Did you find all of your baseball cards?”

“Not all of them,” Stephen said on a whining voice full of growing anger. “Need to find all of them.”

“I think I can help there. I know a man who has a Lou Gehrig in mint condition. Would you like to have it?”

Stephen clapped his hands. “Lou Gehrig—Henry Louis Gehrig—born June 19, 1903. The Iron Horse. First base for New York Yankees. Played 2,130 consecutive games. June 3, 1932, four home runs in one game. Baseball Hall of Fame—1939.” Stephen grinned, his eyes lighting up in a moment of clarity. “Can’t afford that card!”

“Well, just let me worry about that,” Bren said, his own voice soft with joy. Glancing at Dana, he said, “I’m impressed.”

“He has a way with remembering statistics,” she explained. “Especially baseball stats.”

“Then we have something in common,” Bren said, his own grin making him look younger and less sinister.

Surprised at how he’d calmed her brother with his elaborate promise, and how he’d silently followed her every command without question, Dana felt a firm bond with the rugged stranger. Or was he still a stranger? Maybe she should look on him as a friend, or an angel, a dark avenging angel who’d saved her from two storms, the one in the sky and the one raging in her overworked mind. Shrugging, she told herself to be practical. So the man had a few connections. No need to go staring off into fantasy land, thinking he’d come to rescue her from all her troubles.

Telling herself to stay clear, she glanced around one last time. “Well, that’s about all we can do until tomorrow. I’ll have to talk to the insurance adjuster, see where we stand. Of course the livestock will have to be taken care of—that can’t stop.”

Bren nodded. “You run this place all by yourself?”

Dana pushed back tufts of naturally curly hair. “I try.”

His gaze circled the land. “Looks like you’ve done a good job.”

She scoffed. “Yeah, until Mother Nature decided to rearrange things for me.”

His gaze touched on her face, then stayed to travel slowly down the rest of her. He took her hand. “You should get into some dry things and try to rest.”

“Sure,” she said, thinking she’d never be able to rest easy again, not after running from a twister and meeting up with an interesting stranger, all in one afternoon. Just the shock of all this, she supposed. “You don’t have to take us into town. We have the truck.” She saw the relief pour over his face and asked him, “What about you? Where are you headed?”

She felt his grip on her hand tense, saw his head swing back toward the Universal Unity Church before he looked down at her.

“To Wichita,” he said, his expression evasive. “I have business to tend to there.”

She let go of his hand, then immediately wished she hadn’t. It was a spot of warmth in this chilly, grim setting. “C’mon, Stevie,” she called, her heart breaking as he struggled with the few treasures he’d managed to save.

Together, they walked back up the lane to the pickup where Stephen deposited the photo album and baseball glove he’d found, along with some books and video game cartridges.

Dana, on the other hand, had saved very little from the house. They didn’t have anything of real value, and besides, what should she save from a pile of shattered dreams? The toaster, the working parts of a computer, the soggy white homemade prom dress she’d worn her senior year of high school, the only remaining place setting of her mother’s prized china she’d collected with S & H green stamps?

Did she take part of something to remind her of the home she’d sometimes loved, sometimes hated, or did she just throw away every broken piece and keep the bittersweet memories?

Again she felt Bren’s presence. Again she marveled at the man’s even being here. He’d saved her, no doubt. Each time she’d wanted to let go of the silent scream pitching through her mind, she’d looked to him. And he’d given her that solid, mysterious look, just as he’d promised. His eyes had calmed her, his unflinching resolve had guided her in such a way that she wondered if he ever got flustered or bent out of shape about anything. She wondered a lot of things about him, come to think of it. Like where he was from, where he was headed and why he was here to begin with. But he was about to be gone, out of her life. What would she do then?

Silly, she told herself, you’ll do what you’ve always done. You’ll survive.

“I’ll take you back to your van,” she said, indicating the sleek black vehicle still parked out on the highway.

Smiling, she hopped into the truck and waited as Bren helped Stephen stash his salvage before they both crawled inside the wide cab with her. “So,” she said after cranking the truck, “what do you do for a living?”

Bren must have seen the teasing light in her eyes as she nodded toward his van, but he didn’t smile. Instead he looked straight ahead at the gray ribbon of road. “I’m a businessman, and it’s a long and complicated story.”

And one he obviously didn’t want to talk about. “I’m not being nosy,” she said. “It’s just that you appeared out of nowhere, and well, you don’t say much, do you?”

He pushed a hand through his damp hair. “You’ve got enough on your mind, looks like to me. I won’t burden you with my sorry life.”

He was right there. She had more than enough to keep her thoughts falling on top of each other without listening to him. Yet she’d like to listen to him. His lilting, flowing dialect sounded like a sweet ballad to her ears. Pulling the truck up beside the long van, she noticed the dark-tinted windows and the gold-etched star-spangled trim work running along the sides of the sleek, mysterious vehicle. Then she saw the ancient Christian symbol of the fish centered on the windshield. That brought her a small measure of reassurance, but he certainly was a man of mystery. And now that he’d helped her settle things into some semblance of order, he seemed intent to be on his way.

She watched as he got out of the truck, wishing he didn’t have to hurry away.

Stephen called after him, “Hey, Mr. Bren? Thanks—I get that Lou Gehrig card, right? I get Lou Gehrig, for sure.”

Bren’s dark eyes fell across Stephen with a gentleness that reminded Dana of a calm midnight sky. “Don’t worry, Stephen. I know where to find you. You will get your card. You take care of yourself until we meet again.”

Stephen bobbed his head. “Me and Dana, we always take care of each other.”