Healing the Boss's Heart

“That sounds wonderful,” Maya said.

She lifted her small daughter and they started to leave the church grounds together. Yes, the dog may have survived, he told himself. In view of the loss of the gazebo and many of the other structures in the vicinity where they’d last spotted the scraggly mutt, however, it was iffy. Then again, if Charlie was half as streetwise as Greg thought he was, he could also be in the next county—or farther—by now.

Unfortunately, he may have been so frightened by the turbulence and devastation he might never decide to come back.

Maya’s arms and back ached from toting the three-year-old on first one hip, then the other, yet she refused to put her down.

“I can walk,” Layla kept insisting.

“I know you can, honey. But it’s too dangerous, especially since you’re wearing shorts and sandals. Look at all the nails and sharp, pointy things that can hurt you. Mama needs to carry you just a bit farther.”

“Um, I’m not real used to kids but I suppose I can take her for you if you need a break,” Greg offered.

“No. I’m fine. I don’t mind a bit.”

“You just don’t want to let go of her, right?”

Maya had to smile. “How did you know?”

“It’s basic human nature. You’re her mother and you need to be close to her right now.”

“Boy, is that the truth.” She sobered. “Look at all this. I don’t even know where to think of beginning.”

“The rescuers are starting their searches,” her boss observed. “I saw one of the patrol cars wrecked back there but apparently there are enough undamaged police units and fire trucks to get the job done. At least I hope so.”

“Surely, there will be others coming in, too.”

“That’s true.”

“How will we get that generator back to Reverend Michael?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll arrange something.” He was eyeing the upper story of the Garrison Building as they passed it and turned down First Street. “Thankfully, I won’t have much cleaning up to do.”

Maya gasped. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I should have asked. Is your apartment damaged? If it is, I’ll help you with it. I promise.”

“It’s fine. Let’s worry about one thing at a time.” He glanced across the street. “Access to the front of the hardware store and the parking lot looks blocked but I can probably find a few good old boys with trucks and winches to get past the clutter.”

He waved to a small group of his employees who were gathered in the street. “Is everybody okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Garrison. We were getting ready to close. No customers at all.”

“That’s good. Try to get to our spare generators, will you? I want the biggest one delivered to Reverend Michael at High Plains Community Church, ASAP. No charge. And grab a half dozen extension cords to go with it. Okay?”

“Okay. I’ll try to get a little gas for it, too. Anything else?”

“Yes. See if you can find a volunteer to man what’s left of the store so folks can get whatever they need—at cost—whether they have the money for it or not. Just write everything down and we’ll work out the details later.”

“Gotcha. I can stay. I live so far west of town I’m sure the storm missed my place.”

“Good.” Looking satisfied, Gregory turned back to Maya. “How much farther is it to Tommy’s?”

“Just down there. I can see the house. Praise the Lord! It’s still standing.” She could tell that her boss was having to work to keep hold of the struggling boy’s arm.

“Whoa, kid. Hold your horses. I’ll let you go in just a second.”

“Charlie!” Tommy kept yelling. “Charlie. Charlie, where are you?”

Maya looked up and down the street, hoping against hope that the black-and-white mutt would suddenly appear. Very little was moving other than the refuse that flapped in the trees and lay draped over every bush and signpost, as if naughty teenagers had arrayed it like toilet paper in a prank. Sadly, this was no childish practical joke. This was harsh reality.

Green-painted shutters had been ripped from the quaint Otis home and there were spaces on the sloping roof that were clearly missing patches of asphalt shingles. Other than that, the house looked in pretty good shape, especially compared to some of the others they’d seen so far.

Gregory released the boy and Tommy raced ahead, vaulting a low hedge that bordered the backyard of his foster parents.

Holding Layla close, Maya paused to watch. A dog house lay on its side with a chain tether still attached. The rest of the yard was deserted. Charlie was nowhere to be seen.

Tears came to her eyes as she heard the child start to sob. His loud weeping immediately drew Beth and Brandon from the house and they fell to their knees to embrace him.

At least Tommy was safe, Maya thought, thanks to the quick actions of Gregory Garrison. And this was probably only one of the many happy reunions occurring all over the area.

She’d never thought to pray for an animal before but considering the heartbreaking agony the poor, lonely little boy was in, she couldn’t see a thing wrong with doing so now.

“Father, thank You for saving us,” she began to whisper. “And please help Tommy find his dog.”

At her ear, hugging her neck tightly, she heard her three-year-old add, “Amen.”

Middle-aged, slight portly, Brandon Otis was the first to approach and offer his hand to Greg. “Thanks for bringing him home. We were pretty upset.”

“I can see that,” Greg said, noting a slight tremor in the man’s grip. “No sign of the dog?”

Brandon shook his head. “Nope. None.” He leaned closer and lowered his voice to add aside, “That’s the least of my worries. Beth doesn’t say much but I think her old ticker is acting up again. Wouldn’t be surprised after what we just went through.”

That took Greg aback. “Your wife is ill?”

“The only times it bothers her is when she’s stressed, like now. And having Tommy’s dog here hasn’t helped. We just didn’t have the heart to refuse to let him bring it.”

“How is that a problem?”

The older man huffed in disgust. “We had a fight just about every night over bringing Charlie inside. We always said no, but half the time he ended up sleeping in Tommy’s bed with him anyway. Poor Beth had more laundry from this kid than a dozen of the ones we’d fostered before him.”

“I had just assumed Charlie was your dog.”

“No way. Beth’s allergic. The only reason we gave in was because the authorities swore Tommy would be lost without it.” He gestured. “I even built a dog house with a tie-out chain. See? Not that Charlie spent much time there.”

“Tommy was riding a bike downtown when the storm hit. Charlie was with him then. Afterward, we couldn’t find him and we’d hoped he’d wandered back this way.”

“Nope. Sorry. Haven’t seen hide nor hair of him.”

Disappointed, Greg left Brandon and stepped over the low hedge into the Otises’ backyard. As he approached, Beth stood, wiped her eyes and went to join her husband, Maya and Layla.