Second Chance at Love. Irene Brand

to Rick Smith,” he said, “this used to be a coal town, but the mine was abandoned several years ago. The coal company let the people buy their houses at a reasonable cost.”

      Amazingly, a debris-covered bridge still straddled the stream, but water lapped at the wooden floor. Chase tested the stability of the bridge by taking a few uncertain steps on the wet surface.

      “Careful!” Amelia cautioned him, holding her breath.

      “It’s safe enough,” Chase said, and he took Amelia’s hand and held it tightly as they crossed the wobbly structure.

      They sank ankle-deep into the black mud that sucked at their feet as they walked up the town’s one street. Layers of mud and trash covered the ground. Cars were tangled in a net of mud and dead trees. Except for the swirling echoes of the still-swollen stream, a deadly silence greeted them. A few dwellings had collapsed under the force of the water, which had also forced doors and windows open on the remaining houses.

      “Anybody home?” Chase called several times.

      At first, the town seemed deserted, until they heard the faint sound of music. Momentarily, Amelia and Chase stared at one another in amazement, before they broke into a run, following the curve of the street. Disbelieving, they stopped in their tracks.

      A two-story house had been torn in two by the energy of the water, and the lean-to rear section had toppled to the ground. The half-house seemed sturdy, smoke drifted upward from its chimney, and on the front porch, an elderly man sat in a rocking chair, eyes closed, strumming a banjo.

      “Hello!” Chase said.

      The man’s eyes popped open, and his chin dropped several inches.

      “Where on earth did you come from?” he said. Laying aside his banjo, and favoring his presumably arthritic knees, he clambered off the porch. The squat man, who looked as if he were in his eighties, grabbed Chase’s hand.

      “Young feller, I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life. You got any water? I ain’t had a drink for three days.”

      Without waiting for Chase to remove the backpack, Amelia unzipped it, took out a bottle of water, uncapped it and handed it to the man. While the clear liquid gurgled down his throat, she unwrapped two granola bars and handed them to him. His hands were filthy, but he held the bars in the wrapper and ate them. The way he wolfed the food indicated that he probably hadn’t eaten for three days, either.

      He leaned against the porch and motioned toward the mine shaft. “An old sedimentation pond broke open and spilled gallons of slurry into our houses and polluted our wells. I’ve been afraid to eat or drink anything.”

      Amelia handed him some antibacterial hand wipes. While he cleaned his hands, she quickly peeled an orange and gave the sections to him.

      He ate greedily, but between bites, he said, “‘Scuse my manners, but hunger and thirst was about to get to me.”

      “What happened to all of your neighbors?” Chase asked.

      He shook his head worriedly. “There’s only twenty-five folks living here now. Some of them were gone when the flood struck, so I suppose they’re staying with family. A few others took to the hills before the water surrounded their houses, and walked over the mountain to their kin. I watched the creek rise, and I stayed as long as I could. When it got to the edge of my yard, I grabbed my banjo and climbed the mountain. I stayed up there in an old lean-to until the water went down.”

      “Why was the banjo more important to you than your other possessions?” Amelia asked, wondering about his choice.

      “This was my daddy’s banjo,” he said, patting the instrument fondly. “I prize it more than anything else I have.”

      “The Red Cross has a shelter set up not far from Williamson,” Chase said. “We have a Jeep parked down the road about a mile, and we can take you to the shelter.”

      “No, thanks.”

      “But, Mr….” Chase paused. “I guess we haven’t been introduced. I’m Chase Ramsey, and this is Amelia Stone. We’re working with the Red Cross to help flood victims.”

      “My name’s Willie Honaker. Call me Willie.”

      “But, Willie, you shouldn’t stay here,” Amelia said. “The road has washed away, and no vehicles can drive up the hollow to bring fuel or food for you.”

      “I ain’t leavin’ my home. The forepart of the house is stable, and my fireplace is all right. The water didn’t get upstairs, and I’ve got a bed up there. I aim to watch over my things and protect my neighbors’ homes from thieves until they can come back. We ain’t got much left, but I’m staying here.”

      Amelia slanted an apprehensive look toward Chase. It would be a long time before the road would be passable for any of these residents to come home, let alone any thieves.

      “There’ll be government grants to help you rebuild, I’d imagine. In the meantime, you’d be more comfortable at the shelter,” she insisted.

      Willie resumed his seat in the chair, and slowly rocked back and forth, shaking his head negatively. “Nope. I don’t want government help. I’ve been lookin’ after myself for a long time. If you’ve got any more water or candy bars, I’ll make do until some of my kin come to look about me.”

      Not knowing how many other needy people they’d encounter before the day was over, Chase gave Willie only half of the provisions he carried.

      Before they left, Chase explained to Willie about the hazardous road they’d encountered. “Is there an easier way to get back to Williamson?”

      Willie’s clear black eyes widened in astonishment.

      “Man, you surely didn’t take a road across the mountain!”

      “Rick Smith said to take the first road to the left. That’s what I did.”

      “You must have been on a log road, made by contractors who’ve timbered that mountain. How’d you do it?”

      With an embarrassed laugh, Chase said, “It wasn’t easy.”

      “Young feller, I’d say you’re a pretty good driver or you’d still be on top of the mountain. You just follow the road in the creek valley, and it’ll take you to the highway.”

      Although he’d been in doubt about whether he should stay any longer in the disaster area, on the way back to the Jeep, Chase made up his mind. He received four weeks’ vacation each year, and he’d take part of it to help here. He would get in touch with the bank to make arrangements if he could find a place to use his cell phone.

      Would Amelia be pleased that he was staying? As they plodded through the thick mud, he told Amelia the decision he’d made. She nodded without saying anything, and he couldn’t tell from her expression if she was annoyed, pleased or just didn’t care what he did. He compared the Amelia he’d known to the woman with him today.

      Because Amelia’s mother had kept her in new clothes, and since she’d had an unlimited credit card, she’d set the fashion on campus. She’d bought anything that had caught her eye, and all clothes had looked good on her. Amelia hadn’t been a snob, but because of her affluence, she’d outclassed most of the other students. She’d been a beautiful girl, and he’d wanted her the first time he’d seen her.

      The roadbed was narrow in places, and Amelia walked in front of him, allowing ample opportunity for Chase to consider the person she’d become—a tall, willowy woman with a resolute mouth, candid dark eyes and long, very straight, brown hair that, today, fell in scraggly tufts over her shoulders. In her college days, she wouldn’t have been caught dead looking as she did now. Soft rain had started, and they’d forgotten to bring their raincoats. Amelia’s heavy sweater was soaked. Her jeans were splashed with mud, and the boots that had been clean and shiny this morning were filthy. She limped from weariness, and Chase figured that Amelia had never spent such a miserable day.