Healing the Boss's Heart. Valerie Hansen

Greg, Maya and Tommy arrived on the church grounds, Michael had his shirtsleeves rolled up and was standing outside the historic, white-sided wooden building, offering solace and sanctuary to passersby.

      Tall, slim and darker-haired than Greg, he greeted everyone with open arms, then shook Greg’s hand as Maya left with Tommy and hurried toward the annex where the preschool was located.

      “How does it look over here?” Greg asked Michael. “Are the church and preschool okay?”

      “Fine, fine,” the pastor answered. “Maya’s daughter is a wonder. She came through the storm like a trooper. All the kids did. The last time I looked, Layla was helping Josie and Nicki comfort the most frightened little ones.”

      “Sounds tough and capable, just like her mama,” Greg said proudly. He scanned the church. “I can’t believe those big stained-glass windows survived.”

      “They have safety glass over them, thanks to our insurance company’s insistence.”

      “How about the parsonage out back? Do you still have a place to live?”

      “Yes. It’s fine, too.”

      “Good. Well, if you don’t need me right now I’ll go see how Maya’s faring. Is there anything else I can help you with first?”

      “Not that I can think of,” Michael replied, looking weary and old far beyond his twenty-eight years. “I’m still trying to get my head around all this. We lost the carriage house, right down to the foundation, so we can’t use it for temporary housing the way we used to.”

      “What are you going to do?”

      “Move survivors into the fellowship hall in the church basement for the time being. I’ve already got half a dozen women working in the kitchen, preparing food as best they can without electricity.”

      Greg brightened. “There are a few generators in stock at my hardware store. If we can get to them and they still work after all this, they’re yours.”

      “God bless you.” Michael clapped him on the back with affection. “I knew we could count on your help. I’m glad you were here.”

      “Yeah. I’ve been told that same thing once already. I’m not sure I should be happy about it but it does seem advantageous.”

      “The good Lord works in mysterious ways.”

      “Well, maybe. Just don’t start trying to tell me I’m back in High Plains because it’s God’s will, okay?”

      Grinning and looking a lot better than he had when Greg had first walked up, Michael said, “Perish the thought.”

      Greg was still digesting his cousin’s last comment when he reached the door to the preschool. Its handmade sign was hanging by one edge and flapping in the breeze, but other than that and some deep dings in the paint on the lapped wood siding, it looked unscathed.

      He shuddered. Given the fact that he could better assess what little was left of the carriage house and old town hall from where he stood, it was phenomenal that the historic church—and the children inside the annex—had been spared. This tornado had come way too close for comfort.

      Greg was reaching for the knob when the door flew open and Tommy ran out, barreling into him.

      “Whoa. Where do you think you’re going?” Greg caught the small, wiry child and swung him into his arms.

      “Let me go. I gotta find Charlie.”

      “We’ll go, we’ll go. I just need to tell Maya, I mean Ms. Logan, and her daughter what’s going on.”

      He stepped into the doorway to scan the room. In view of the mess the children had made while playing on the floor, it was hard to tell that the tornado had actually skipped over their facility. Greg smiled when his gaze found Maya’s.

      “She’s fine. Layla’s fine,” Maya called out, waving excitedly. “Come on in.”

      Greg shook his head. “Can’t right now. Tommy and I are going to go looking for Charlie, like we promised, and I need to stop by the hardware store, too. Michael needs a generator.”

      “Then we’ll come with you,” Maya said quickly and firmly. “I want to see what’s left of my house and check on some friends. We can drop Tommy by his foster parents’ house on the way. The Otises live over on First Street, across from the schools.”

      “Are you sure you’re up to it?” Greg eyed her feet once again.

      “Yes, I’m sure. I got here in one piece and I can get back the way we came just as well as you can. Besides, if I want any other shoes, I have to go home to get them.”

      “That sounds reasonable.” He had to tighten his grip on the wiggly boy. “Hurry it up. Tommy’s giving me fits.”

      “When has he not?” With Layla in tow she joined them at the open door. “I know I shouldn’t be smiling, in view of all that’s happened, but I can’t help myself. I’m just so happy to be with my daughter again.”

      “I imagine a lot of folks feel that way. I hardly know what to think or do myself. This whole picture is too unbelievable to take in all at once. Half of me wants to mourn while the other half can’t help grinning about the most inane things.”

      “The buildings can be rebuilt,” she said wisely. “It’s the people I care about who worry me now. And I’m sure Tommy’s foster parents are beside themselves.”

      “Maybe Charlie went home,” the boy piped up. “He has a dog house and everything.”

      “That sounds wonderful,” Maya said.

      She lifted her small daughter and they started to leave the church grounds together. Yes, the dog may have survived, he told himself. In view of the loss of the gazebo and many of the other structures in the vicinity where they’d last spotted the scraggly mutt, however, it was iffy. Then again, if Charlie was half as streetwise as Greg thought he was, he could also be in the next county—or farther—by now.

      Unfortunately, he may have been so frightened by the turbulence and devastation he might never decide to come back.

      Maya’s arms and back ached from toting the three-year-old on first one hip, then the other, yet she refused to put her down.

      “I can walk,” Layla kept insisting.

      “I know you can, honey. But it’s too dangerous, especially since you’re wearing shorts and sandals. Look at all the nails and sharp, pointy things that can hurt you. Mama needs to carry you just a bit farther.”

      “Um, I’m not real used to kids but I suppose I can take her for you if you need a break,” Greg offered.

      “No. I’m fine. I don’t mind a bit.”

      “You just don’t want to let go of her, right?”

      Maya had to smile. “How did you know?”

      “It’s basic human nature. You’re her mother and you need to be close to her right now.”

      “Boy, is that the truth.” She sobered. “Look at all this. I don’t even know where to think of beginning.”

      “The rescuers are starting their searches,” her boss observed. “I saw one of the patrol cars wrecked back there but apparently there are enough undamaged police units and fire trucks to get the job done. At least I hope so.”

      “Surely, there will be others coming in, too.”

      “That’s true.”

      “How will we get that generator back to Reverend Michael?”

      “Don’t worry. I’ll arrange something.” He was eyeing the upper story of the Garrison Building as they passed it and turned down First Street. “Thankfully, I won’t have much cleaning up to do.”

      Maya