The Mechanics of Mistletoe - Liz Isaacson Page 0,12

to work while they made phone calls. Soon enough, all four of them were nailing boards over the windows and doors of the shop to hopefully protect them from shattering during the tornado.

They didn’t get tornadoes often, but every six or seven years they seemed to pass through this part of Texas.

“You guys go,” she said to Jeff, Jason, and Logan. “The bus will be here any minute.” She knew, because Clayton had texted her to say so. Sure enough, Logan had barely left before Clayton arrived.

“Come on, come on,” Sammy called to Lincoln. “Let’s go, bud. We have to get to Grandma and Grandpa.” She waved to Clayton, who wasted no time pulling away from the shop. Sammy hurried Lincoln to their truck, and she drove as quickly as she could to her parents’ house.

“Mom,” she called as she entered. “Link, go get the flashlight from the hall closet. I’ll grab a snack.”

Her mother didn’t answer, and when Sammy went into the kitchen, she found a silver key sitting on the counter. She swiped it up and put it in her pocket, moving faster as the wind shook the windows in the kitchen.

“Hurry, Link,” she called, wondering how much time had gone by since she’d heard the radio broadcast.

He came into the kitchen, and she handed him a couple of boxes of chocolate milk and a bag of pretzels. “We have to get to the tornado shelter.” She crouched down in front of him. “You are not going to let go of my hand, do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said.

“It’s only about thirty feet,” she said, refusing to look toward the window as the light started to leak out of the sky. “I have a key, and we’re going to make it. We just have to stay together and hurry.”

He nodded, and Sammy didn’t waste another second. She took him by the hand and together, they ran to the back door and outside. Her parents had not boarded anything up on their house, because they were too old to do something like that.

“Start praying, Link,” she yelled above the wind as she looked into the dark, foaming clouds coming from the south. “Let’s go.”

They ran across the deck and down the steps to the lawn. She led him through the wind and scattered rain to the shelter door, said, “Put your hand in my pocket,” and started fitting the key into the lock.

It took three tries to get the door open, and she pushed Lincoln in front of her. “Click on that flashlight, Link.” He went down the steps, finally getting the light on. Sammy stepped into the shelter too and turned back to wrestle with the door.

If she didn’t close it, it would be almost like being out in the storm. “Please,” she begged as the wind tried to snatch it from her again. “Give me one moment of calm. Just one moment.”

God obviously heard and answered prayers, because the wind died. Everything held still and produced silence. In that moment, Sammy grabbed the door rail and pulled it closed. She locked it into place and turned to follow Lincoln into the shelter.

“Momma?” she called.

“Back here,” her mom said, and relief painted Sammy’s insides. “You made it.”

“Yes,” Sammy said, coming into the glow of the electric lantern they were using. Her mother had Lincoln in her arms, and she was stroking his hair. Sammy remembered when she used to do that to her, and it had been so soothing and so comforting. With her mother around, Sammy remembered feeling like nothing could go wrong.

Of course, she knew better now. Things could and did go wrong all the time, and when Sammy looked at her parents, all she could see was that they were missing half of their children. Not only that, but they’d lost their best daughter and been left with the one who messed up all the time.

Her mother rose to hug her, and Sammy clung to her, another round of tears threatening to drown her on dry ground.

“Oh, baby,” her mom said. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. We have the shelter.”

Sammy nodded and stepped back, wiping her eyes. “Hey, Daddy.” She moved over to where he sat in a recliner that Heather’s husband had moved down here years ago. He reached up and patted her on the back as she hugged him. “You made it down the steps okay?”

“Took forever,” he grumbled. “But we left the house the moment we heard the sirens,