“What’s up?”
“When was the last time you slept, niece?” Her aunt said guilt was a time waster, and as she was in her nineties, she did not have time for it. Libby was trying to get to that mindset but, thus far, had failed.
“Aunt Emma, there’s just too much to do. And when I close my eyes…”
“Yes, that’s what happens, you see Dean, you see your friend J.J., I know.”
“I’m just getting through each day.”
“That’s all you can do, my dear. But you must sleep. Or at least be sure to eat a sandwich today, promise me?”
“I will.”
“Okay, good. My senior group is taking a van to Meijer’s in Adrian. Do you need anything?”
The grocery store was gone, and Meijer, thirty minutes away, was the closest place to get groceries now. Arrow had temporarily stocked more staples at the gas station, but it still wasn’t big enough to be a fully stocked grocery. The mercantile also tried to fill the gap as best as they could. They moved adorable kitchenware to the side to be sure there was free water available for volunteers and anyone who needed it.
“I’m good, have a nice trip.”
“I will. I’ve got to go! The bus is waiting!” Emma hung up.
Her rich old aunt on a bus to the grocery store instead of with Patrick chauffeuring her around would be a sight. Except the reason for it was awful. Patrick’s car had been smashed by a falling limb. Thank goodness he’d made it inside Silver Estates retirement community with Aunt Emma, hunkered down when the twister passed. But it meant her aunt was without private transport for the moment.
The grocery store was gone. The twister leveled the huge building, wiped it out in a second. The pavilion had also sustained major damage. The lists she made were grim these days. The tasks seemingly insurmountable. She was Sisyphus, pushing a boulder up a hill, only to see it roll back down.
But the lists were all things. The tasks all immaterial.
It was nothing compared to J.J.’s loss.
Libby had been fueled by adrenaline at first. The emergency of it all had been gasoline to her. They’d worked to find victims, get medical treatment, and account for everyone.
That took almost twenty-four hours.
And then there was Dean.
They buried him five days after the tornado hit. Dean was a friend to just about everyone in town. His shoulders were big, his heart bigger.
Libby was in awe of how her friend. J.J. was handling all this like a champion. She insisted on supervising Hope’s food at the wake. She shouldered the grief of their sons. She accepted everyone’s anguish.
She took it in and let people feel better. All the while, her own loss and trauma were in the background.
J.J. was the superhero now. Libby just hated it. Dean Tucker was one of the best people on the planet.Why?
There wasn’t an answer.
At the funeral, J.J. stood up and recounted Dean’s final seconds: “He stood at the door, wide, tall, all six-feet-four of him, and yelled that I needed to get down. I rarely listened. But this time, I did. And then he winked.”
J.J. was alive because she’d listened to Dean.
“He got the last word. I still can’t believe that one,” she’d said. J.J. delivered the eulogy with gorgeous, glowing, purpose. Dean deserved an epic tribute, J.J. made sure that’s what he got.
Libby kept seeing the dark sky. The undulating black clouds that organized and swept toward them. The twister was a monster. It bore down on Nora House. She had no time to get to anyone. She only had time to run down to her cellar.
The tornado sounded like a freight train. She remembered that from before. You just cannot believe how loud it is. The roar of it.
The drive out of her place that day was one of the scariest of her life. She wanted to be fast, to get to her friends. To make sure Aunt Emma was okay.
But what would she find?
