Healing the Boss's Heart

She shook her head, then pointed. “Not unless that bridge is in better shape than it looks from here. The whole roadway is blocked up by big pieces of houses and goodness knows what else.”

“You’re right. That probably means the rescue units from the other side of the river won’t be able to get to us without going miles out of their way, either.”

“I know.” She sighed. “It’s going to take us weeks just to dig out, and that will be only the beginning. No wonder so many people are just wandering around in a daze. It boggles my mind, too.”

“I can help with the rebuilding,” Greg told her, leading their little group in a circuitous path that avoided loose wires that were dangling between battered telephone poles. “My lumber yard and hardware wholesale can supply resources, even if they’ve sustained some damage.”

“That should be profitable, too.”

Maya knew she shouldn’t have taken his offer so negatively but she’d worked for the man long enough to know that he was fixated on the bottom line: net gains. It wasn’t his fault that that was the way his mind worked, but she did see it as the reason he’d been so successful when he was barely thirty.

He sobered and glowered at her. “This isn’t about business, it’s about survival. I’m not going to try to make money from the misfortunes of others, even if my father’s opinion of me suffers as a result.”

“He wouldn’t understand?”

“No. That old man has never approved of anything I’ve done, which is the main reason I told him I was leaving High Plains for keeps, years ago.”

“It must have been hard for you to come back.”

“Yes, it was. If my cousin Michael hadn’t phoned and told me Dad was terminally ill, I’d still be enjoying my studio apartment with a view of Lake Michigan, instead of standing in the middle of this horrible mess.”

“With me,” Maya added, giving his strong hand a squeeze. “I’m really sorry you have to go through all this but I’m glad you’re here. If you hadn’t been, who knows what would have become of me in this storm.”

“I hope you’d have had the good sense to duck.”

Maya nodded. “Yeah. Me, too. But I doubt it.”

Reverend Michael Garrison, Greg’s cousin, was also pastor of the largest house of worship in town, the three-story High Plains Community Church.

By the time Greg, Maya and Tommy arrived on the church grounds, Michael had his shirtsleeves rolled up and was standing outside the historic, white-sided wooden building, offering solace and sanctuary to passersby.

Tall, slim and darker-haired than Greg, he greeted everyone with open arms, then shook Greg’s hand as Maya left with Tommy and hurried toward the annex where the preschool was located.

“How does it look over here?” Greg asked Michael. “Are the church and preschool okay?”

“Fine, fine,” the pastor answered. “Maya’s daughter is a wonder. She came through the storm like a trooper. All the kids did. The last time I looked, Layla was helping Josie and Nicki comfort the most frightened little ones.”

“Sounds tough and capable, just like her mama,” Greg said proudly. He scanned the church. “I can’t believe those big stained-glass windows survived.”

“They have safety glass over them, thanks to our insurance company’s insistence.”

“How about the parsonage out back? Do you still have a place to live?”

“Yes. It’s fine, too.”

“Good. Well, if you don’t need me right now I’ll go see how Maya’s faring. Is there anything else I can help you with first?”

“Not that I can think of,” Michael replied, looking weary and old far beyond his twenty-eight years. “I’m still trying to get my head around all this. We lost the carriage house, right down to the foundation, so we can’t use it for temporary housing the way we used to.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Move survivors into the fellowship hall in the church basement for the time being. I’ve already got half a dozen women working in the kitchen, preparing food as best they can without electricity.”

Greg brightened. “There are a few generators in stock at my hardware store. If we can get to them and they still work after all this, they’re yours.”

“God bless you.” Michael clapped him on the back with affection. “I knew we could count on your help. I’m glad you were here.”

“Yeah. I’ve been told that same thing once already. I’m not sure I should be happy about it but it does seem advantageous.”

“The good Lord works in mysterious ways.”

“Well, maybe. Just don’t start trying to tell me I’m back in High Plains because it’s God’s will, okay?”

Grinning and looking a lot better than he had when Greg had first walked up, Michael said, “Perish the thought.”

Greg was still digesting his cousin’s last comment when he reached the door to the preschool. Its handmade sign was hanging by one edge and flapping in the breeze, but other than that and some deep dings in the paint on the lapped wood siding, it looked unscathed.

He shuddered. Given the fact that he could better assess what little was left of the carriage house and old town hall from where he stood, it was phenomenal that the historic church—and the children inside the annex—had been spared. This tornado had come way too close for comfort.

Greg was reaching for the knob when the door flew open and Tommy ran out, barreling into him.

“Whoa. Where do you think you’re going?” Greg caught the small, wiry child and swung him into his arms.

“Let me go. I gotta find Charlie.”

“We’ll go, we’ll go. I just need to tell Maya, I mean Ms. Logan, and her daughter what’s going on.”

He stepped into the doorway to scan the room. In view of the mess the children had made while playing on the floor, it was hard to tell that the tornado had actually skipped over their facility. Greg smiled when his gaze found Maya’s.

“She’s fine. Layla’s fine,” Maya called out, waving excitedly. “Come on in.”

Greg shook his head. “Can’t right now. Tommy and I are going to go looking for Charlie, like we promised, and I need to stop by the hardware store, too. Michael needs a generator.”

“Then we’ll come with you,” Maya said quickly and firmly. “I want to see what’s left of my house and check on some friends. We can drop Tommy by his foster parents’ house on the way. The Otises live over on First Street, across from the schools.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” Greg eyed her feet once again.

“Yes, I’m sure. I got here in one piece and I can get back the way we came just as well as you can. Besides, if I want any other shoes, I have to go home to get them.”

“That sounds reasonable.” He had to tighten his grip on the wiggly boy. “Hurry it up. Tommy’s giving me fits.”

“When has he not?” With Layla in tow she joined them at the open door. “I know I shouldn’t be smiling, in view of all that’s happened, but I can’t help myself. I’m just so happy to be with my daughter again.”

“I imagine a lot of folks feel that way. I hardly know what to think or do myself. This whole picture is too unbelievable to take in all at once. Half of me wants to mourn while the other half can’t help grinning about the most inane things.”

“The buildings can be rebuilt,” she said wisely. “It’s the people I care about who worry me now. And I’m sure Tommy’s foster parents are beside themselves.”

“Maybe Charlie went home,” the boy piped up. “He has a dog house and everything.”