2. Prescription For Love

She shut her eyes and felt like a coward.

Minutes, hours passed and at last the screaming subsided. The terrible pressure in her ears relented and she could hear again.

“Is it over?” She jumped up and swayed, legs rubbery. “The kids. Flann.”

“Wait.” Harper grasped her arm. “We don’t know what’s up there. The house might be unsound.

We have to go slowly.”

Abby jerked her arm free. “I have to get outside.”

“There may be secondary twisters.” Harper blocked her path to the stairs. “It won’t do anyone any good if you get hurt too.”

“My son—Margie—”

“Flann is with them,” Harper said grimly. “Come on, just stay with me.”

At the top of the stairs, Harper shoved on the door leading into the kitchen. It didn’t move.

“Blocked.”

Panic tore at Abby’s throat. She couldn’t be trapped. She had to get out. “Let me help.” Abby crowded onto the top stair beside Harper.

“On three,” Harper said. “One, two

three.”

Abby pushed against the solid wood door as hard as she could. It moved a fraction.

“Again.”

On the third try, wood scraped on wood and the door opened enough for them to squeeze through. The kitchen table had upended and come to rest against the door. The light was out, but the walls and ceiling still stood. Someone had managed to get the windows open, and the only damage seemed to be broken furniture tossed around as if by an angry child.

Harper righted a chair and cleared a path to the porch. The screen door was gone. A tree on the far side of the yard had uprooted and lay in the yard in a mound of broken boards and pieces of slate. A wheelbarrow sat atop the pile. Abby jumped down the stairs and stared at the barn. The back half of the roof was gone, only a skeleton of rafters bare to the sky. Dread twisted through her. “Oh God.”

Abby ran, skirting debris, sliding in mud and rivulets of water. Rain pelted down, sharp needles she barely felt. Broken branches clawed at her legs. The barn door hung down, half-unhinged. She pulled aside a tree limb and tugged at the end of a splintered board blocking her way.

“Here,” Harper said, catching up to her. “Let me help. Don’t try to go inside yet. The whole thing might come down.”

“I’m getting my son.” Abby peered into the dark interior. A jumble of debris filled the aisle. She pulled out another loose board and edged into the doorway.

“We’re going to get them.” Harper held her back. “But if we move something and bring all of it down, we’re not helping them.”

Glenn, Presley, and Carrie appeared out of the storm.

“Did you find them?” Presley asked.

“Not yet,” Harper said. “But we will.”

Glenn said, “I ought to try to get to the hospital. The ER is going to need us.”

“Yes,” Harper said. “Go.”

Carrie said, “I’ll go with you. We can take my car.”

“I’ll be there as soon as we get the kids and Flann.” Harper gripped Presley’s arm. “Can you try the phones? See if you can reach my parents, make sure everyone there is all right?”

“Yes,” Presley said. “Be careful, okay?”

“We will.” Harper kissed her. “You too.”

Abby sucked in a breath. The control she brought to bear in the midst of an emergency rose to the surface, and she pushed the panic back into its dark corner. “Tell me what to do.”

“We need some light—I’m going to get a flashlight from my truck. Call to them and see if we can get a fix on where they are. I’ll be right back.”

Harper hurried off and Abby peered into the dark depths of the barn. “Blake? Flann? Margie—are you there?”

Abby’s heart stopped beating as silence crowded out the air in her lungs. “Blake?”

“Mom? Back here!”

Abby’s heart started up again. “Are you hurt?” “We’re good,” Flann called.

“Can you get out?”

“We’re blocked in,” Flann called. “What I can see of the roof looks iffy.”

Harper returned and shone a light into the barn. Splintered wood and a jumble of beams filled the center aisle. “Flann? Can you see daylight?”

“No!”

“What about fire rescue?” Abby asked.

“They’re all volunteers. Everybody in the area’s probably dealing with the same thing,” Harper said. “It could be hours.”

“Then we have to get them out ourselves,” Abby said calmly. “You’re in charge.” Harper studied Abby and nodded. “Follow me.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Flann couldn’t move her left leg. Something heavy pinned her in the pile of rubble. Thank God, she could feel her toes, wiggle them, but she couldn’t pull free, and every time she tried, the debris above her groaned and creaked. She’d rather not have the whole thing come down on their heads. Pain lanced down the back of her thigh and a warm wet sensation followed. Didn’t feel like bone pain— probably just a laceration. The blood loss didn’t seem extreme but she didn’t want to make it any worse. They might be there for a long time. “Are you two sure you’re not hurt?”

“My shoulder’s banged up a little,” Margie said, her voice steady and quiet. “But it’s not dislocated, and my arm is fine.”

“Blake?”

“I’m okay.” His voice was breathy and tight.

He was doing pretty good for a city kid. Hell, any kid.