Author's Note: Thanks again to my co-author katbybee and my beta reader Piscean6724 and to all you lovely readers who leave feedback and send me messages. Your encouragement keeps me writing! To avoid spoilers, there's a French-English glossary at the end of the chapter for those who need it. For those who know French, please be patient with any mistakes I may have made!
Spanish - English Glossary
Mi alma - My soul, a term of endearment
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June 15, 1977
Johnny felt lousy, so he didn't mind letting Mike drive the Squad. Anyway, Mike knew where they needed to go. The drive through the city was difficult. Roads were torn up, rubble from fallen buildings was strewn across the streets. If Johnny hadn't known the area like the back of his hand, he wouldn't have known they were driving right down his street. He thought about closing his eyes, unwilling to see what had happened to his apartment building. But no, he needed to know. He forced himself to look.
A few days ago, he had pleaded with Dr. Brackett to release him and let him recuperate at home. Brackett had refused. Then, Johnny had fumed. Now he was thankful, because his home no longer existed. His building had suffered a pancake collapse, and his particular apartment was now flattened under the weight of the fourth, fifth, and sixth floors. If he'd been home, he would have been flattened too. His head throbbed. He leaned back and closed his eyes. "Wake me up when we get there," he said.
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Mike maneuvered the Squad expertly around the obstacles in his path. Thankfully, few vehicles were on the road just now. "Sure thing," he told Johnny. He'd seen John's apartment building. He really wanted to get home to Beth and make sure she was safe. He hated being torn in two directions like this. Chet needed them. Beth needed them. And Marco's mom probably needed them too. "I shoulda taken the day off," he muttered under his breath.
Beth's probably fine. The house is pretty sturdy. It made it through the quake in '71 with minimal damage. She's gotta be OK. The next-door neighbors promised to look out for her while I was on shift. She's all right and I'll see for myself when I get home. He was more worried about the boys and his parents, and he wished he knew where they'd gone. They had talked about the zoo and the bookstore.
He had been going to go back to the station and leave the Squad for their replacements. Chief McConnikee had stood them down and was going to call in a replacement engine too. They could drive up to the slide site in his truck. But the roads going to the station were closed. A huge cloud of smoke drifted upwards; Mike assumed it was from the oil refinery across the street from 51's.
Vince was at one of the barricades and pulled him over. "Your station collapsed, boys," he told them with a sad shake of his head. "No one's getting in there. We've got all the help we need here, so why don't you head back to Rampart. Looks like you need to be seen."
"Thanks, Vince." Mike saluted the officer and turned the Squad around. He didn't head for Rampart, though. He headed up to the slide site, hoping they weren't too late to save Chet.
When they reached the site, it looked like the search was over. The men were clearing the road instead of searching for Chet. Marco shook Johnny awake, then the three men stepped down from the Squad and pushed past the guys from 36's. Red hot anger flashed through Mike. One of their own was missing! Why weren't they looking for him?
"Hey!" Captain Liscombe grabbed Mike's arm. "The Chief sent you to Rampart!"
Mike looked at the captain. "Yessir, he did, but we thought about it, and it would be hours before we could be seen. My shift mates and I believe Chet is still alive and we're going to keep digging until we find proof one way or the other. He deserves that much, no matter how you feel about him."
Captain Liscombe's eyes narrowed to slits. He pulled Mike back from the slide site. "No way. Just like I told my crew. Defy my orders and I'll have you arrested." He gestured toward the slide. "Besides, there's no chance anyone under that is still alive."
"Really?" Mike shook his head and pulled free. "I don't see any police here. Call them. I'll be happy to tell them you're letting a personal vendetta stop you from rescuing a victim. Now if you'll excuse me, Captain." The title came out dripping with sarcasm. "I have a friend to save."
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
While Mike confronted Liscombe, Marco got to work. Johnny settled in next to him. Soon, Mike joined them. Even sick as he was, Johnny still managed to shift the heavy rocks. Marco watched A-Shift's youngest member with unspoken concern. When he had touched Johnny's shoulder to wake him up, he'd felt the heat emanating from him. If he'd thought Johnny would ever forgive him, he would have left him sleeping in the Squad. Marco understood, though. They should both be at Rampart right now. But Marco had to find his best friend, the friend who had just saved his life. And Johnny had to find the Phantom. He and Chet needed each other. The whole station needed them together.
Marco worked silently. A few times, he opened his mouth to say something to Johnny or Mike, but words just wouldn't come. And so he went back to work, methodically picking up one rock after another, trying not to think about anything but saving Chet. Still, thoughts of Mama and the rest of his family were never far away. Mama and his siblings all knew what to do in an earthquake. He'd told them over and over again. He just hoped they remembered. At long last, blending in with the debris that covered it, he noticed the fabric of a turnout coat. He grabbed Johnny's arm and pointed.
John moved forward, a tired grin spreading across his dusty face. "Hey," he shouted, his voice raspy. "We found him!" Then he began to remove the rocks around the turnout. Marco and Mike joined him. They worked quickly, but they had to be extra cautious, as they didn't want to cause any additional injuries to Chet by adding to the weight of the slide on him.
Just as they had the rubble around Chet's head and chest cleared, the earth began to shake again. Marco huddled over his friend, determined to protect him from any more rocks that might fall. At least a few rocks hit him on the back and sides. They hurt, but he didn't think they did any damage. The shaking lasted about a minute. When it stopped, Marco straightened up and got back to work. He glanced at Johnny, hoping for confirmation that Chet really was alive. It was hard to tell if he was breathing.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
"He must have been in an air pocket," Johnny announced. "He's… he's brea —" His cough cut him off. It doubled him over and made his sides ache. Dust from the site was settling in his lungs and breathing hurt. His throat felt pretty raw, too. The bandage on his hand had gotten messed up when he was digging, leaving the bite wound exposed. It hurt like hell. But he was in better shape than Chet. He managed to get himself under control while Mike and Marco cleared more debris out of the way, freeing Chet down to the waist. When he placed his hand on Chet's chest he knew they were in deep trouble. "It feels like he's got a broken sternum. That's bad news. We need to get him to the hospital as fast as we can. We need a chopper."
"I'll get one." Liscombe's grudging offer couldn't be more than a last-ditch effort to save face. Johnny had never liked 116's A-Shift captain. Liscombe had hated Chet since his days as an engineer when Chet had dated his sister. The couple had been briefly engaged, but Chet broke things off after Cynthia cheated on him. Howard Liscombe blamed Chet for the whole thing.
Liscombe had a couple of excellent paramedics, though — Dwight Kirby and Reggie Scott. Johnny and Roy had helped train them. Once Johnny declared Chet was still breathing, they had joined in the effort to free him. Liscombe didn't dare stop them now, Johnny figured. Scott grabbed John's arm and pulled him aside. "Let us take it from here, pal. You don't look so hot."
Talking hurt too much. Johnny just nodded and let Scott pass him to one of the A-Shift linemen, a boot whose name Johnny didn't know. The lineman helped him to his feet, but his knees felt about as stable as that green jello they kept feeding him at Rampart. Johnny clung to the boot and let him do the work, moving him over to the Squad and sitting him down.
"Kirby," Liscombe barked at his junior paramedic. "Get over here and take care of Gage. He looks like hell."
Johnny cocked an eyebrow at the captain. "No thank you, sir. I'll manage till Chet's cared for." He hoped he didn't sound as sarcastic as he felt. He didn't need to get himself in trouble. Cap could throw the book at him for leaving the hospital before he was discharged.
He tried to stay awake. He watched Kirby and Scott tend Chet, trying to hear what they were saying. But he was exhausted. All the adrenaline that had kept him going since the quake woke him up had drained away, leaving him weak and shaky. The wound on his hand felt like it was on fire, too. Maybe he was in shock. He wasn't sure. Thinking hurt too much, and besides, he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. He let them slide shut and gave in to sleep.
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Mike shook his head. He couldn't help a slight smile. Johnny had fallen asleep sitting with his back leaned against the Squad. He didn't even wake up when Kirby and Scott doctored his hand and started an IV. He slept through being lifted onto a gurney, strapped down, and moved into the chopper next to Chet. "Thanks, guys. Take good care of them." Kirby jumped in after his two charges, and Scott closed the doors, gave them a couple of raps, and stepped back.
As the chopper lifted off, Mike stepped closer to Scott. "Hey, Reggie." He kept his voice to a low whisper. "What happened with the search? Why'd you stop looking?"
"Cap ordered us off as soon as Chief McConnikee left," Scott answered. "Said it was too dangerous. We protested and kept looking, but he threatened to fire us on the spot and then have us arrested for interfering at an accident site. I can't afford to lose this job."
Mike's eyes narrowed. Next to him, Marco tensed visibly, his hands curling into tight fists. Mike put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I know," he said. "It's Liscombe's doing, not yours. I'm just sorry you have to work under him. He won't get away with this."
"I agree, and I'll be happy to make a statement." Scott clapped Mike on the back. "I hope Chet makes it."
"Yeah. Me too."
Scott moved toward his unit's Squad. "I'll see you down at Rampart. Go get yourself stitched up."
Mike raised a hand. "We're going to check on our families before we go back to the hospital. We'd just be sitting around waiting there anyway. I'll see you, Reggie. Take care." He waved a hand. Marco did the same. Then they both climbed into the Squad and followed Reggie down the hill.
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"Well, Hank," said Dr. Brackett. "You have a broken wrist and a moderate concussion. Nurse Watkins is on her way to splint your wrist. We'll let the swelling go down before we cast it."
"And then I can go home?"
Brackett shook his head. "Sorry, but no. I'm admitting you overnight for observation, but we don't have a room available at the moment. We're going to have you wait here for now, but we'll get you settled when we can."
Hank moaned. He hated this. Even in a tent, a hospital was a miserable place. He just wanted to be home, to know that Em was OK. He needed to be close to her right now. The tragedy of the day weighed him down, made him feel as if he could hardly breathe. "I suppose the phones are out."
Brackett frowned. "Yes, unfortunately. We'll get word to Emily as soon as we can."
Hank nodded. He would have to be satisfied with that. "Doc, how are my men?"
When Brackett sighed heavily, Hank knew the news wouldn't be good. "Chet's on the way in. Looks like he has a broken sternum."
Hank's stomach sank. That sounded bad. "What about Roy?"
"He came through surgery all right. He's in Recovery now. After that, we'll move him to ICU. It's too early for a firm prognosis. Mike and Marco… well, it seems they walked out of triage with John Gage and went to search for Chet. They're the ones who found him. Johnny's coming back in with Chet — sounds like he overdid it and spiked a high fever."
Someone moved aside a flap of the treatment tent, admitting the bright sunlight. Hank winced and closed his eyes against the pain. "Dr. Brackett?" Dixie's voice.
The doctor moved to the door. Hank heard him talking and then chuckling. He came back a moment later. "Well, Hank. You've got a visitor."
Probably one of the guys, Hank thought. "I'm not up to talking right now, Doc."
"I think you'll like this visitor. And it saves us a phone call."
"Hank?" Emily's voice. Soft and sweet and soothing. Her warm fingers clasped his hand. "Oh Hank, honey, I was so worried. Chief McConnikee came to the house and told me you were here. He drove me over himself."
Hank gave her a wary glance. "McConnikee did that? I wonder what he's got up his sleeve. He can't stand me, you know." He reached up and pulled her close with his good hand. "Doesn't matter, though. I'm just glad you're here. So glad you're all right."
"Hardly any damage at all to our house. All that work you put into preparing for a quake paid off." She pressed her lips to his, then pulled away. "I love you, Hank Stanley."
He was breathing easier now, his head throbbing less. He twined his fingers with Emily's. "And I love you, Emily Stanley."
Dr. Brackett was all smiles. "All right, I'll leave you lovebirds alone for now. Hank, hang in there. Get some rest."
Hank sighed. With Emily here and safe, he could rest. "Thanks Doc. I will. Bye for now."
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Pepita was in a panic. It didn't help that she kept having contractions — they'd started that morning, but she hadn't told Mama about them. She didn't think they were close enough together to worry about. Still, they hurt. After the third aftershock, the house had started to smell strongly of gas. She remembered Marco's instructions. He'd worked hard enough over the years to drill them into her head. She got the kids out of the house and opened all the doors and windows, but she couldn't manage to move Mama and she couldn't wake her either. She turned off the gas, but the odor didn't dissipate. She didn't know what to do.
Several neighbors were outside with her right now. Edna Morales had taken charge of Marita and Raul. They were seven and eight years old and thought this was all a great adventure. Sofia and Ruben were with Maggie O'Donnell. Her teenage daughter had gotten them laughing again. Eventually, though, they would be hungry for their bottles and Pepita didn't know how she would prepare them. The water main was broken, and she couldn't go back inside anyway. But she had to go back. Mama was in there. She edged toward the door, but Lisa Blakely grabbed her arm and pulled her back. That's when she saw the police car coming up the street. Adam-16. A surge of relief went through her. Mateo was home.
He ran to her, wrapped her in his arms, and kissed her. "Honey, where's Mama?"
"Inside." Pepita wanted to cling to him. Instead, she pushed him toward the house. "She hit her head, and I can't wake her. Go get her, please Matty!"
He didn't hesitate. He let go of Pepita and ran to the house and through the open door. Pepita waited anxiously, crossing herself and praying the Our Father. "Please, God," she added at the end. "Keep them safe."
A minute later, Mateo came out with Mama slung across his back. She hung so limply, Pepita was terrified that she had died. She didn't have much time to think about that, though. As Mateo came down the porch steps, an explosion knocked him off his feet. He and Mama flew several feet, landing in the freshly mowed yard. Pepita screamed. Tears flooded her eyes and streamed down her face. She barely noticed when Mateo got up and crossed the yard to her. She was doubled over, gripping her abdomen. Her legs and shoes were suddenly soaked.
"Mi alma!" Mateo's breathless voice sounded in her ear and he wrapped his arms around her. Thank God he was all right.
"The baby, Mateo. It… it's time. But Mama needs you right now."
"Lisa's with Mama. She's a nurse, remember? I've got you, baby. You need to lie down right now." He spread his coat on the ground and eased her down on it.
Pepita had expected hours of labor in a hospital room. She never expected to be lying in the front yard giving birth while her childhood home burned to the ground. She'd been so happy when Mama invited them to move in with her after Mateo got his job with the Los Angeles Police Department. Her first child was supposed to grow up here too, sleep in the same nursery where she had slept, even in the same crib. She wept as a strong contraction hit. It shouldn't be happening like this, but now Mateo was telling her to push, push, push. And so she did, in spite of the agonizing pain. Then, suddenly, it was over. Mateo was laughing and kissing her and putting a baby in her arms. "It's a girl, mi alma. A girl! We have a beautiful baby girl!"
In that moment, Pepita was weeping and laughing, heartbroken and joyful all at once. "I want to call her Liliana, after Mama," she said. They had talked about names and that one had never been on their list, but right now it seemed right.
Mateo tipped his head, looking gravely at his wife. "Si. Liliana Esperanza — 'Hope' because she was born on a day when much hope will be needed, understand?"
Pepita nodded. "Liliana Esperanza Lopez Ruiz." About that time, Squad 51 came rumbling down their street, skirting around the spot where the asphalt had been pushed upward and a long crack had opened. The vehicle parked in front of the house and Marco and Mike jumped out. Pepita hadn't expected them in the Squad. Something must have happened to Johnny and Roy. She was glad to see them, though, glad to know her favorite brother was all right.
Marco came running toward them, stopping to look from Pepita to Mama as if he didn't know where he should go first. And then Pepita watched his gaze go to the house. He fell to his knees, his eyes flooding with tears. Mateo moved to his brother-in-law's side and drew him to his feet, then walked him over to Mama's side. They moved her onto a backboard, then carefully carried her to the Squad. Next it was Pepita's turn. Mateo carried her to his squad car and slid her in the back with the baby. Marco put a hand on little Liliana's dark hair, then gently touched his sister's cheek.
It was only after the car door was closed and Mateo started driving that Pepita realized her brother hadn't spoken a single word.
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After taking Mama Lopez to Rampart and giving her into the care of a triage nurse, Mike turned to Marco and put a hand on his shoulder. "I need to go check on Beth. If you need to stay here, I understand."
Marco simply nodded.
"Listen, Marco. You don't need your voice to pray, so say a few for us, OK? I… uh… don't know where my parents took the twins today." With that, Mike turned and headed back to the Squad.
When he finally got to the house, his heart sank. The roof had caved in, and the walls were all cockeyed. He saw his neighbors, Wally and his son Tim from next door, and Marty from down the street with his brother Kevin, who was visiting from Montana. Marty had no business being up on a roof. The widower was in his late seventies, still lanky and sharp as a tack, but his movements were slowed by arthritis. Wally's wife Fran was the one Mike had asked to check in on Beth for him. She stood on the sidewalk, pacing and wringing her hands while the men worked at moving the rubble aside. When Mike got there, Wally waved. "Mike! The kids and your folks aren't here, but we've heard Beth under there… she's talkin' French, so we don't know what she's sayin'."
Mike's heart nearly stopped when he heard that. He was scared for Beth. She must be hurt if she'd reverted to speaking French. She tended to do that when extremely stressed. He walked to the edge of the rubble and called out, "Beth, honey, can you hear me?"
She responded in a sing-song voice. It didn't make sense, either. At least not as an answer to his question. She was singing a lullaby he'd last heard when the twins were just babies, the one about the crocodile.
Un crocodile s'en allant à la guerre
Disait au revoir à ses petits enfants
Traînant ses pieds, ses pieds dans la poussière
Il s'en allait combattre les éléphants
Mike blew out his breath and tried again. "Bethy, are you OK?" She wasn't, but he wanted to keep her talking as he and the other men continued clearing the debris.
"Michel, mon mari. Je vois le ciel. Je vois un nuage comme un dragon."
"Beth, love, where are you? What room are you in?"
She began singing again. "Je dors sur mon lit, un oreiller sous ma tête."
Mike turned to the others. "OK, our bedroom is towards the back of the house. We'll need more help to clear that area. Can you guys see if you can find some? I'll stay here and keep working and keep her talking."
"I'll go," Tim volunteered. "I can move faster than you old men." The teenager was a good kid, but he liked to tease.
His father grunted. "Ha, move it, Sunshine!"
Tim scrambled to the edge and carefully lowered himself to the ground. "Love ya, Dad!" he shouted, and off he ran. About ten minutes later, he returned with men from all over the neighborhood. A few women, too. They brought ladders and shovels and flashlights, and Lorraine Castillo had her first aid kit.
With the additional help, things moved quickly, and they soon located the hole that Beth could see out of. Mike peeked over the edge and stared down at his wife, getting his first good look at how she was trapped. Her face looked awfully pale, and a beam was pinning her legs.
"There's a cloud that looks like mon mari." Her drowsy singsong floated up to him, increasing his worry. She was really out of it. "Michel, my legs are burning."
"I'm not a cloud, Bethy. It's really me. I'll be down soon to help you."
"I'm having the strangest dream right now, Michel. There's a hole in the house and I can see the sky." She yawned. Her tone was way too languid.
"Just don't go to sleep. Keep talking." Mike turned to the others. "It's gonna be a bear to get down there, but she needs help right now."
"We have some rope," Wally offered. He tossed a coil Mike's way. "Figured we might need it."
"Yeah, that's what I had in mind. Just pray we don't have another aftershock on my way down. I think I can get her loose. If I can get the beam off her, we can get her out. Can you guys find a big board we could lift her on?"
"Is there anything in the Squad that would work?" Tim asked. "Oh, what are they called… Stakes or something like that."
"We already used our Stokes and our backboards. Just see what you can find — something as long and about as wide as she is.
"Here's a board that should work!" Lorraine shouted. "Just let me get the nails out!" She freed the board of nails and then passed it to Wally who offered it to Mike.
"Perfect," Mike said. "Hold onto it and pass it down when I'm ready." He finished the rope harness he was making and prepared to lower himself through the hole. Hopefully, he would be in time. Beth was sounding increasingly drifty.
It took a few minutes of careful maneuvering, but finally, Mike reached his wife's side. He continued speaking softly to her in French as he assessed her condition as best he could. The paleness, he discovered, was thanks to a coating of dust. Underneath it, her face was flushed. She was radiating heat. Thankfully, he found no bleeding around her legs. It should be safe to lift the beam.
"Mon mari, I was in a boat and the waves were tossing it up and down and up and down and then I looked up and saw the sky, but I was too heavy to move."
"It's OK, baby. I've got you. I'll get you out." Mike only prayed that the shock of moving the beam wouldn't bring more harm to Beth, but it had to be done. He wished he had Johnny and Roy's training. If only he could call on them for advice right now. Still, he knew better than to lift that beam without taking steps first to prevent crush syndrome. His training had covered this. He pulled off his belt. "OK, baby. I'm gonna put some tourniquets around your legs. Then I'll lift this thing off you." He fastened the belt around her right leg and pulled it tight. Then he pushed aside some of the rubble so he could get to his dresser drawer. He had belts in the top drawer. He pulled one out, unwound it, and strapped it around her left leg. "There we go. Now it's time. I'm gonna lift that beam off you, get it off your legs. Are you ready?"
"Is it time to go to school, Michel? The boys will be happy to see us."
Beth's confusion worried Mike. He had to get her to Rampart. This flu had hit her hard, and now was possibly complicating her injuries, or maybe her injuries were making the flu worse.
"I'm lifting now. One, two, three…" And he did. He moved the heavy beam aside and pushed it to the ground.
As soon as the pressure of the beam was off her leg, Beth screamed. She was suddenly wide awake, staring at her husband. "Ça fait mal! Michel, ça fait mal!" She looked around, trembling in shock. "Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?"
Mike gently put his arms around her. "There was an earthquake and a beam from the roof fell on you. Now, we have to get you out of here." He called up for the board.
"My legs hurt so bad. My head too." She shivered. "It's cold!"
It was a warm day, but Mike was sweating from the hard work. "I know, honey, and I'm sorry. You have a fever on top of the injury to your legs. I don't know how bad it is, but we're gonna get you to Rampart as soon as possible." And then it struck him that she would have to ride in the front of the squad with him. That wasn't possible, not with her injuries. The makeshift backboard would work to get her out, but how would he get her to the hospital?
She gripped his hand and her eyes really focused on his face for the first time. "Oh, mon mari. Did you cut yourself shaving? You're bleeding."
"It's nothing, honey. Don't worry about me." He busied himself securing her to the board and fastening the board back to the rope. Then he called up to the rescuers above him, "Haul her up very carefully. I'll follow."
Lorraine directed the men as they pulled Beth up. Mike could hear her from below. She could be bossy, but she usually knew what she was talking about. In this case, he was grateful. The men listened to her, and Beth was safely removed from the ruined house. A few minutes later, the rope was lowered for Mike.
He climbed out without incident and joined the others atop the remains of his house. He knew he was in a kind of shock and that it would wear off eventually, but right now all he could think of was his Beth. He hurried over to her. As he did, his eyes fell on his old pickup, parked at the curb and undamaged. Inspiration hit. He turned to Lorraine. "Would you ride in the back of my pickup with Beth so we can get her into Rampart on the board?"
"I'd be glad to." Lorraine clutched Mike's arm. "She's going to be all right, I'm sure of it."
He snapped his fingers. "I knew I forgot something!" He lowered himself back down into the hole and went to the cedar chest over by what used to be their closet. The top was broken, but the contents would be fine. He'd seen it on their way out but hadn't thought about its significance at the time. He lifted the cracked cover and pulled out a thick blanket and a pillow to use for Beth for the trip to Rampart. Holding the bundle under one arm, he had the men pull him up once again.
While he was getting the blanket, Beth had been lowered down to the front yard. When Mike got to her, he found Lorraine standing next to her, talking to her in a low soothing voice. Lorraine looked up at Mike. "I don't think she's sure yet how much of this is real."
"I don't blame her. I kinda feel the same way." Mike sighed as he signaled for some help in lifting Beth into the back of the truck.
"Her fever's pretty high. Should she take something for it?" Lorraine asked, hefting her first aid kit as she trotted along behind Mike to the truck.
"I'm guessing they'll give her something at Rampart. But if you have any ice, a cool cloth would be a good idea."
Lorraine shook her head. "Plenty of ice in the freezer at home, but I can't get to it. I'm sorry." She climbed up into the truck bed and settled down next to Beth.
Mike nodded. "Well then, let's just get her to Rampart as fast as we can. I'll come back for the Squad later."
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
"Pops? Gramma?" Jake's soft voice drifted through the ruined bookstore. Because it was so hot today, they had decided to skip the zoo and come to the mall instead. They had just gotten to the children's section of the bookstore when everything started shaking. Then the roof started falling on top of them. Pops had pushed Jake and Ian down and then got up to help Gramma. Now Jake was lying next to Ian, and he couldn't see his grandparents anywhere. His arm hurt really bad. Ian's eyes were closed, and he was breathing funny and not talking at all. A bunch of books had fallen on top of him, and he wasn't even trying to get out from under them.
Jake wasn't sure how much time passed before he heard a familiar raspy cough, but it felt like hours. "Jakey? Are you OK?"
Jake's heart was thumping hard in his chest, and he was having trouble catching his breath, too. That made him feel lightheaded. "Pops, I'm real scared! I… I gotta broken arm, Pops! And I think Ian's un… unconscience." He wasn't sure he'd said that big word right the way Ian would have. Ian was better with words than Jake. Usually, it made Jake mad but right now he would give anything to hear his brother correct him.
"I know, buddy." Pops' voice sounded trembly.
"Is Gramma OK?"
Pops hesitated before answering. "She's… just fine, Jakey. She's, uh, sleeping. We'll get out of this. Folks will come get us, you'll see."
If Pops was so sure they would get out, why did he sound like he was about to burst into tears? Jake had only heard him sound like that once before, when Pops' dog Blue had to be put to sleep after getting hit by a car. Was he hurt? Or was Gramma hurt? Jake wished he knew.
Gradually, in spite of the pain in his arm and Pops trying to keep him talking, Jake found himself drifting off to sleep. He was just too tired to keep his eyes open any longer.
•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•
When the phone rang right in the middle of dessert, JoAnne tensed. At first, she expected Daddy to ignore it. He'd been doing that as long as JoAnne could remember, declaring that his family wasn't going to live at the mercy of the telephone and besides, anyone with bad enough manners to call at mealtime deserved to wait. But tonight, he got up from his seat, walked into the kitchen, and answered it before the third ring. Unlike Mother, Daddy understood her feelings for Roy. He'd told her over and over again that he considered Roy a fine son-in-law, and that Mother was being unreasonable. "Jo, it's for you. Mike Stoker."
Jo took the receiver, her hands trembling. "Hello, Mike?"
"JoAnne, thank goodness I was able to reach you. They just got the phones working. Roy asked me to call you. He was injured in the quake."
For a few seconds, the words stuck in JoAnne's throat. But finally, she managed to push them out. "Injured. How bad? What happened?"
Mike sucked in a deep breath. "It's bad, Jo. He has a broken left leg and a concussion. He had surgery this afternoon and he's in ICU now."
"ICU? For a broken leg?"
"Well, he… uh… he also has spinal damage. At the moment, he's, um, paralyzed below the waist. Doctors aren't sure if it's permanent. Dr. Early will give you a call when he's able — they're pretty swamped just now."
"Ohhh," Jo whimpered and nearly fainted. She handed the phone to her father and began to cry.
"Hey there, Jellybean." Jim put an arm around her to support her. He put the phone to his ear. "Thanks for the news. I'll work on getting Jo back home as soon as possible." And then he hung up. "Tell me what he said."
In broken sentences punctuated by sobs, Jo repeated the terrible news to her father. Normally, she was a strong woman, and she would be again, but right now, she needed time. And she needed to be home.
"Why's Mama cryin', Grandmama?" Megan was sitting at the dining table, eating her chocolate ice cream. The child's innocent question floated into the kitchen to JoAnne's ears.
Jo also heard her mother's acerbic response. "Because your mother hasn't got a lick of sense."
"Julia!" Daddy warned sharply. "You're the one without any sense. You need to stop that talk now."
With an indignant sigh, Mother stood up and stalked through the kitchen, past Jo and Daddy, then stomped up the stairs. A minute later, they heard her slam the bedroom door.
"Honey, you go sit with the kids. I'll work on getting you home." Daddy kissed JoAnne on the forehead and gently nudged her toward the dining room.
D.J. pounded his spoon on the highchair tray. He didn't talk yet, but he was making happy noises. He loved ice cream. Megan pushed her bowl toward Jo. "Here, Mommy. You need this more'n I do."
Jo's heart almost melted. As far as Megan was concerned, chocolate ice cream made everything better. She pulled her little girl into a hug. "Thank you, Honey. Mommy loves you so much." She took a bite of the ice cream, but it turned her stomach. She handed the spoon back to Megan. "Here, Meggy Moo. I can't eat any more just now. You finish it."
In the background, Jo heard her dad bustling around, trying to figure out how best to get her home. She didn't know how he would accomplish that feat. Los Angeles area airports were probably closed. She would have to fly into San Diego and rent a car, and she didn't like the idea of driving alone with three children. Especially with D.J., who couldn't understand sitting still. But all she knew was she wanted to go home. She needed to be with Roy.
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Glossary (French – English)
Michel, mon mari – Michael, my husband
Je vois le ciel – I see the sky
Je vois un nuage comme un dragon – I see a cloud like a dragon
Je dors sur mon lit, un oreiller sous ma tête – I'm asleep on my bed, a pillow underneath my head
Ça fait mal! – It hurts!
Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé? – What happened?
The Lullaby:
Un crocodile s'en allant à la guerre
Disait au revoir à ses petits enfants
Traînant ses pieds, ses pieds dans la poussière
Il s'en allait combattre les éléphants
A crocodile, going off to war
Said goodbye to his little children
Dragging his feet, his feet in the dust
He went off to fight the elephants