I Know an Old Lady: A Coming of Age Novel by Margaret Standafer

Author:Margaret Standafer [Standafer, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Misty Lake Press
Published: 2020-07-07T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

IT TURNED OUT some houses in town were flattened. Word spread, even his dad heard the reports, and he relayed the details to Billy the evening after the tornado when he rushed into the house. Billy hadn’t seen him move that fast in years. Once his dad had assured himself the house was undamaged, and, Billy wanted to believe, assured himself Billy was undamaged, he gave Billy a run-down of what he’d heard.

“Don’t know any of those people who lost their homes,” his dad said, “but do know a few who have some pretty serious damage.”

“Anyone I know?”

“The Kuehns lost part of their roof. The Young’s shed ended up in the neighbor’s yard. There are others. Lots of swing sets and picnic tables picked up and dropped blocks away. Cops have most of the streets in town closed. Trees down all over. It’s a mess.”

“We don’t have any power,” Billy reported.

“Figured as much. You’re okay, though? You’re sure? Where were you?”

“At Mrs. Baxter’s. Started home, but the sky turned that green color, so I went back.” Billy turned away, embarrassed to tell his dad he’d gone back to make sure Mrs. Baxter was okay.

“Went back?”

Billy kept his back to his dad and looked out the window. “Yeah, you know, I figured she couldn’t get herself to the cellar.”

“Well, I reckon that was the right thing to do. Her place okay?”

“Yeah. Some mess, but no damage.”

“Good. Way I see it, we were lucky. Haven’t heard of any serious injuries, any deaths. Stuff that’s broken can be fixed. Can’t fix a life.”

Billy turned back to look at his dad. It was the first emotion he’d heard from his dad in a long time.

“Where were you?” he asked his dad.

“Workin’. At the elevator.”

Now his dad looked embarrassed. He moved his toe along the floor, tracing a design.

“Yeah? That’s good.”

“They’re short-handed, what with the harvest. Figured I’d help ‘em out.”

“That’s good,” Billy repeated. “You hungry?”

Billy took a good look at his dad and noted how skinny the man was. His jeans hung low on his hips, his shoulders drooped, making his shirt look at least a size too big, and his face was hollow.

“Hungry? You cookin’?” Billy’s dad grinned crookedly at him.

“Could. Got some spaghetti sauce. Figure I can boil some noodles.”

Billy’s dad cocked one eyebrow. “Where’d you get spaghetti sauce?”

“Mrs. Baxter. She sent it home with me.”

“Huh. That so? Guess I could eat some spaghetti. Good thing we still got that old gas stove.”

So Billy set a pot of water on the stove to boil and filled another with the spaghetti sauce, then lit the flame to heat both. His dad paced around the kitchen picking up a plate, a box of matches, setting them back down again and moving on to the next item, anything to keep his hands busy. He went to the refrigerator and opened it.

“Hope the power’s not out too long, stuff’ll spoil.”

Billy watched as his dad glanced back over his shoulder at Billy, then stuck his hand in the refrigerator and pulled out a beer.

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