5

A loose billy goat has been impounded by Bouef Parish officials after chasing calves on local farms. A deputy found the goat and is attempting to identify the owner because "this seems to be a real good quality animal." If the owner is not found, the goat will be adopted or sold at auction. If the sheriff's department has got your goat, give them a call.

—The Green News-Item

Eva Hillburn, flanked by three or four men, including the police and fire chiefs, pointed to a large map of Bouef Parish.Her back was to the door of the basement command center, and the room around her buzzed like the yellow jacket nest Chris had stirred up while mowing my yard last summer.

I stood silently at the back of the room, taking in as much information as I could without getting in the way.

"We have to go here next," Eva said, pointing to the core of town with her coral manicured fingernail. She wore the silk suit she had on at our wedding. "Door-to-door, block-toblock until everyone is accounted for. I feel certain that damage is extensive in this neighborhood. The houses were practically falling down as it was."

Jerry Turner, the banker who had run against Eva for mayor, sat hunched over a map on a tan metal desk and slammed his hand down on a nearby metal desk. "No," he said. "We know outlying areas are hard hit. We can't waste time on inner-city neighborhoods that may be fine."

He looked at Hank and Doug. "Don't you agree, boys? We start in the area and work our way back. We don't have enough manpower to cover the entire town, so we'll have to count on citizens to work out problems we can't reach."

"Jerry," Eva said in what I thought of as her stately mayoral voice, "this is no time to argue."

"I know what we need to do," the banker said. "Serve the people we know are hurt. Look for others next. There's plenty of work to go around."

Eva took a deep breath. "We're wasting valuable time," she said. "You handle the parish. I'll take the city limits. We'll divide volunteers into teams with captains to report back on the hour, every hour."

"That'll work," Hank said.

"Good idea, Mayor," Doug said.

She turned and surveyed the room, catching sight of me."I'll be right with you," she said, all business. She turned back to the officials nearby. "Hank, we need an emergency medical technician with each group if possible. Doug, assign the groups and get them on their way. Volunteers are meeting upstairs."

"Lois," she said, turning to me, "we have a crisis beyond what we're prepared for. We've notified the National Guard and declared a state of emergency. We've confirmed two deaths, and that's likely only the beginning. Injuries are piling up faster than the hospital can handle them. It's operating on a generator and has serious roof damage."

At the word "deaths," my mind froze. "Anna Grace?" I whispered, knowing she had been in bad shape when she left the church.

"Last I heard she was stable," Eva said, "but things are so chaotic that I don't know for sure."

I could tell there was something she was holding back.

"Who, Mayor?" I asked. "Who are the fatalities so far?"

"There's no good way to tell you," she said. "Your copy editor Tom and Papa Levi . . ."

"Tom? Are you sure?"

"A tree crushed his car. The vehicle was found blown off a side road out toward Route Two," she said quietly. "A neighbor flagged down a deputy, but Tom couldn't be saved. He was dead by the time help arrived."

"He was trying to warn us," I said. "He knew we were out of touch during the ceremony, that no one would have a phone on."

"Tom's last actions say a lot about the kind of man he was," Eva said. "He tried to send a text telling everyone to take cover, said it would be horrific."

"If he only had come to the wedding as planned."

"Lois, this is not your fault. There is nothing you could have done."

"Asa?" My voice shook.

"He's fine, other than a bruise or two. He was crying in the bathtub, surrounded by pillows, when Terrence and the others got to him. Levi was under a mattress in the hall. Apparently he had been trying to drag it to the bathroom. Most of the windows were blown out."

I put my head in my hands, and the mayor laid manicured fingers on my arm.

"Sugar Marie?" I asked, going through my mental list.

"At Dub's house. He kept her during the wedding." Dub McCuller was one of two brothers I had dealt with in the purchase of the newspaper and not one of my favorite people.

"How's Holly Beth?" Eva asked.

"We found her in her crate in a tree. She seems fine."

"A tree? Did you leave her on the porch?"

"She was in the kitchen. Aunt Helen's house is gone."

"Gone?"

"No longer there. It disappeared." I said, and I could see her processing that image. "Your house?"

"A few shingles off and my beautiful camellia uprooted, but nothing more, according to Dub. My side of the street looks like nothing happened, and the houses across the street are a mess."

"I never thought about how random a storm could be. To think that this day started so beautifully, barely a cloud in the sky."

"We've conducted a very preliminary check," Eva said, pushing her hands through her hair in a gesture I'd not seen before. "Thirty to thirty-five percent of the buildings appear to be destroyed. Many more are damaged. We have long days ahead of us."

Green had unquestionably elected the right mayor to deal with a tragedy. I tried to imagine former Mayor Oscar Myers, elderly and set in his ways, handling this.

"The wedding ceremony was lovely," Eva said, pulling a tissue from her pocket. She wiped her eyes and straightened her hair. "I have to get back to work. Your staff can use that desk in the back there."

Tom was dead.

Big, sloppy, wordaholic Tom, who loved crossword puzzles and books and edited copy as though he worked on the biggest newspaper in the country, who coached Katy so she could become a true reporter, who led our editorial crusades and cared as passionately about The Green News-Item as he had when he walked in the door forty-one years ago.

"This newspaper is here to stay," he'd proclaimed in a loud voice a few months ago. "No Internet or cable television will kill it. Only lazy journalists will be able to do that."

Likely the paper had killed him, coming to spread the news to his coworkers, even though he was not feeling well and didn't like to drive at night. My heart ached at the thought of telling Katy and the others, but I didn't want them to hear it from anyone else.

I glanced at the big clock on the wall over the map, frozen at seven forty-eight when the power went off. I looked down at my watch and held it up to my ear.

"It hasn't stopped," Hank said, walking up with a clipboard."It really is only nine twenty-five."

"It feels like a time warp," I said.

His walkie-talkie squawked, and he stepped away, listening, his expression more stern by the moment. "I have to get back out there, Lois."

"Can I get quotes and an update from you first?"

He nodded and sighed deeply. "Two more confirmed dead."

"God help us," I said, half in anger, half in prayer.

"I don't have names on the others. I'll keep you posted."

"If you see Chris, will you tell him I'm OK?"

"Sure thing," he said. "Congratulations, again."

I tried my cell phone again. Nothing. Would it be better to stay at the command center or go back to the paper?

The mayor had mentioned satellite service, so this could be a good place to set up shop and stay up on breaking news developments. The metal desk in the corner would be a serviceable news center for a while, but how could we coordinate coverage without better phone service? I longed for electricity and our little newsroom, Tom at the center, laying out pages, conversation whirling around me as we struggled to find enough news to fill the paper.

Even in this room surrounded by people I knew, I felt lost and alone.

For the next ten minutes, I resorted to doing what I do best—gathering information and piecing together a short article. Law enforcement personnel came and went, including volunteers who regularly helped on fire calls and with routine police matters. With each new person, a look of dread mixed with the need to know washed over faces, sick-looking under the fluorescent light of the basement room. The headquarters already smelled stale and felt stuffy.

Bud, the agriculture columnist, came in wearing his polyester Green Auxiliary Police uniform, what Katy liked to call his GAP outfit. Before I could reach him, a half dozen people mobbed him for news from the world outside.

He stopped speaking when he noticed me. His back was stiff, and I thought he was too old to be out this late, helping with such a tragedy.

"Tom handled my copy every week for more than thirty years," he said. "We've lost a good man."

I pulled out my notebook and pen. "Will you give your thoughts for the paper?" I asked, trying to hold back tears. "I want to post his obituary as soon as possible."

"First, I need to update the mayor with word from the police chief," he said. I followed as he walked over to Eva and pointed to the map. She picked up several small pins with blue heads and began to push them into neighborhoods.

I now understood what the words deathly quiet meant.Everyone in the room paused to watch. As Bud referred to notes, Eva pushed another pin into the map, then another.

"Friends," Eva said, while Bud folded up the paper and stuck it in his pocket, "confirmed deaths are now at five. We are awaiting word from out in the parish."

I sat down at the desk, turned on my laptop, and began to write, relieved to see a weak Internet connection.

Alex and Tammy came in after I hit send on the latest online update.

"Is it true about Tom?" Tammy asked. "Did he really die?"

"Yes," I said. "It's true." My voice trembled, and Tammy and I moved toward each other.

"It's hard to imagine putting out the Item without Tom," Alex said.

"I leaned on him to choose photos," Tammy said. "I've got a few good shots now, but if he were here, he'd tell me to get better ones when the sun comes up."

"I can't let myself think about it yet," I said. "Let's focus on putting out the best paper we can. I want us to put out an extra edition, one that would make Tom proud."

"What happens now?" Tammy asked.

"Stay here and get what you can, Alex. Update online every fifteen minutes and gather details for the special edition. I'll go over to the paper and send someone to relieve you when I can. Tammy, find us the picture that will tell the story in one glance."

Alex was already on his way to the coffeepot before we got out of the room, and I noticed he had changed into the ratty tennis shoes. The moment of familiarity felt good.

Stan and I were about halfway through mapping out a four-page extra for the next day in the newsroom when Iris Jo strolled in wearing a warm-up suit and baseball cap, a familiar brown accordion file in her hands and a tote bag on her shoulder.

"Are you OK?" Stan asked, rushing over to her.

"If you think I'm going to bed while everyone else works on the biggest story we've ever had, you're wrong," she said."Knowing Lois, we'll have an extra edition by this time tomorrow.We have to figure out where we'll print it and how we'll get it there."

"Tell me you didn't drive out to your house to get those files," Stan said.

"Picked up comfortable clothes, too. I couldn't think straight when I first saw the house, but I'm better now."

Iris Jo was a poor cousin of the McCuller family, which had owned the paper for decades before I bought it. From the first day she unlocked the door and let me in, I knew Iris Jo had held the newspaper together for years. My profit-sharing plan for employees eased my guilt that I wound up with the Item instead of her, but she insisted she wanted to work at the paper, not run it.

She dug in the tote bag. "Where's Tom?" she asked. "I made sandwiches."

Stan and I locked eyes. I knew he would speak the words.

"Darling, it's not good news," he said softly, putting his arms around her. He wore his usual pressroom jumpsuit but looked like a different person as he soothed Iris. "He died in the storm."

"Tom, dead? But he's always worked here," she said, almost visibly shrinking as she took in Stan's words. "This place was like home to him. He'd come in on weekends and take a nap on that dirty old couch right there."

I knew it was my turn to talk when Katy, Molly, and Linda trooped into the newsroom thirty minutes later, but the expressions on their faces told me they had heard the news.

"Tell us it isn't true," Katy said, walking over to Tom's desk and staring at the array of oddities he kept there. Her eyes were red and swollen. "Please tell us it's a bad rumor, that the cops got it wrong, that it was someone else."

"I wish I could."

Before I could move, Katy, tears rolling down her cheeks, picked up the old-fashioned green visor that Tom put on the minute he walked into the newsroom and took off the minute he left.

"How will I know how to write without him to help me?" she asked.

"He was so nice to us, said we weren't half bad for kids," Molly said, so somber she looked as though she might break at any moment.

"The death count is up to six," Katy said softly. "I suppose you know Asa's grandfather was among them."

I nodded. "Molly, is your family all right?"

"They went over to the nursing home where Mama works," she said. "That place has a generator and is taking in old people.I promised her I'd be careful and probably wouldn't see her until late tomorrow."

"I dropped my parents there, too," Linda said. Her parents both suffered from dementia, her mother's severe. Their care, along with her accounting work at the paper and her co-ownership of the antique mall across the street, kept her busy, but she was determined to become a top-notch reporter.

"The school was hardly hurt," Katy said. "They're opening a shelter for people who don't have a place to stay. That's one of the oldest buildings in town. I don't understand." I hated the bewildered look on her face, but it matched the way my brain felt.

"Alex said you want to put out an extra edition tomorrow," Linda said.

"I do." The words sounded odd for a moment. Had I uttered them in front of the church this very day?

"I don't even know what an extra is," Katy said.

"It's a special edition of a newspaper when there's a big story," Molly said. "I didn't think anyone did them anymore."

"They're rarely produced," I said. "But this is a historic day in Green. We'll offer it as a service to our readers, single copy only. We won't try to deliver it to houses."

"Good thing because there aren't that many houses left," Linda said.

Everyone gravitated to Tom's desk, despite my thought that we would move to the conference room. Tammy and Walt arrived after we started.

"Deaths?" I asked as soon as they walked in the door.

"Seven," Tammy said, moving to the group, tears running down her face. "Two dozen critically injured at the hospital here, with a dozen more transported either to Shreveport or Alexandria. Many less serious but needing medical care.Here are pictures." She turned her digital camera to me, and I squinted to see.

"You need glasses," she said.

"I'll run right out and get a pair."

She put her arm around my shoulder, gave me a slight squeeze, and then stepped back to photograph the staff at work on the paper.

Within minutes we knew we needed consistent electricity and Internet access to prepare the pages in the morning. They could be e-mailed to a press yet to be arranged.

"Bossy is out," Stan said, referring to our old press. "She won't run off this generator."

I gathered my thoughts while Linda and Katy wrote preliminary stories, and Tammy worked on her photos. Walt sat in the corner, conferring quietly with Iris.

I made two trips to the courthouse to check in with Alex and hear what Eva had to say. Walt, whom I had dated briefly when I moved to Green, walked with me both times "for protection," leaving Tammy to edit her photos.

As we walked out of the newspaper building, I stumbled on the stairs, and he took my arm.

"I didn't intend to spend my wedding night with you," I said, trying to make a joke but on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry about Tom and Levi . . . and your wedding day," he said, "but I'm thankful you're in Green. I don't know of anyone else who could have handled this story the way you will."

"Thank you," I said and straightened my shoulders. "I hope you're right."

A new group of volunteers had arrived at the command center, and Eva ruled. Her voice was scratchy, but she looked as professional as if it were a weekday morning at the department store she owned.

"You need rest," I told her. "By light of day we both know the work will be greater." I glanced over at the contentious Jerry, snoring with his head on a desk. "We'll need you to lead us."

"The roads are almost impassable until we get trees cut," Eva said. "I'm planning to sleep upstairs in one of the nice quiet courtrooms. We may not have power back for a few days, but they're trying to get special equipment downtown. Phones, too. They said it could be a week or more. The governor's office called. He'll be here within a day or two."

Walt and I walked silently back to the paper.

With emotions as scattered as my possessions, I called Linda and Molly to my office. "I need you to go to the hotel room Chris and I have reserved in Shreveport. It's the only way I can think of to make sure we get the paper out with no power here. Linda, you have the best computer skills. Molly, you're going to need to lay out news pages since Tom isn't here.Can you do that?"

"I can try," Molly said.

"Set up the computers, get a few hours of sleep, and have the pages done by eleven tomorrow morning. I'll e-mail headlines and photos and check the pages from the computer in the courthouse.

"Tammy, go to Walt's and post pictures and expanded updates. You'll have to type these stories in," I said, pulling the pages out of the printer. "Include a request for reader contributions—eyewitness stories, photos, whatever they've got.The only way we'll be able to do this story is with help from the community.

"We'll have a lot of ground to cover at daybreak," I said."Stan, will you make sure Katy gets home safe and get Iris back to the Lakeside?"

I glanced down at my updated to-do list. "Iris, ask them to hold a room for Chris and me if they possibly can. Tell them we may need it for quite a while."

Blank stares greeted me. In the drama I had forgotten to tell them about my house.

"It blew away," I said. "Let's call it a day."

"Before we go," Katy said, "we have one more thing to do."

She dug around in her desk and came up with the paint used to list the names of those who died on the front window, a long-standing News-Item tradition, to keep readers informed between editions.

We walked together to the lobby and stood silently while she painted the words. "Tom McNutt. Awesome Journalist.Our friend."

Everyone had left by the time Chris returned to the paper, carrying two sleeping bags borrowed from his brother. As soon as I unlocked the front door, he laid the gear down and folded me into his arms. He looked as tired as I felt.

"Your family?" I asked. "The dogs?"

"Every house is damaged one way or the other. That big pine in the side yard at Mama and Daddy's is now in the guest bedroom. My brothers will take care of them for the time being, but I need to tell you something else."

A dozen names ran through my mind before Chris could continue. "Who?" I whispered.

"Mannix. He's hurt, and I'm not sure he'll make it. When the tree fell, he was trapped under the metal roof on the back porch. The vet doesn't have power and he's helping injured people as well as animals. I always thought it was a cliché, but it's a war zone out there."

I had a soft spot in my heart for Mannix, the big mutt who had terrified me when he wound up on my porch injured. He reminded me of how tentative and fearful I had been when I first moved to Green.

"We can't lose Mannix," I said. "We can't."

"We've done all we can," Chris said "Let's set up camp in your office and try to get a little rest. Tomorrow will be a long day."

The warmth and strength of my husband comforted me as I fell asleep. Holly Beth snuggled beside me.

Could the best day of your life also be the worst?