WATCHING BRAD
Part 170
Brad and I stood there staring at the dark, dank water in our basement for quite some time after the Teddy Bear sank beneath the surface. How long we stood there I can't be sure, but the sunlight shining through the hole in the roof and reflecting off the water had moved noticeably. We hadn't spoken. Words seemed so insignificant for the thoughts which were going through my mind, and I'm certain they were equally insignificant for Brad. We stood there for so long, in fact, that we weren't even aware that a Hydro One crew had arrived to replace the burnt-out transformer and to return power to the neighbourhood.
"Excuse me, gentlemen," said a husky but polite voice behind us. We turned to see a man several years my senior, dressed in familiar the orange coveralls with the bright yellow, reflective stripes running down the chest and crossing the back in an ‘X' pattern. Behind him, parked on the street, were two yellow Hydro One trucks, each with cherry pickers on top. "I'll have to ask you to leave the premises. You're not supposed to be here."
"This was our home," I told him.
"I'm very sorry about that," the man continued, "but I must ask you to leave. It isn't safe."
"Okay," I said, "but can you tell me what happened first?"
"I couldn't comment until the investigation and examination is finished," he replied as he turned his head around and looked up at the black power box atop the wooden pole before looking back at me and continuing, "but if I was betting on whether it was the transformer or your house which was struck by lighting, I'd lay my money on the transformer." His hands went to his hips. "Don't know why your house got zapped, though. Hopefully, that's what the investigation will tell us."
I nodded and tried to smile politely at him, but I don't think my face cooperated. We took one final look at our house before slipping beneath the emergency tape and returning slowly to the Hayes' front yard. Everyone was gone. No-one was standing there, waiting for us. They had all gone inside the house. It was my guess that our parents had decided to give me and Brad some time alone. I hadn't heard the boys crying or protesting, though. I suspect that, as much as they needed to be with us at that moment, they must have felt that Brad and I needed to be with each other just a little bit more and went willingly and silently with their grandparents.
We found them waiting just inside the door with Terry standing immediately behind them. As soon as she saw us, she returned to the others in another room.
"Daddy," Justin said when I'd picked him up, "can we go home now?"
I hugged him close and kissed his cheek. "No, my Sonskyn," I said softly to him, "we can't go home for a long time."
"Is our house broked?" Jeremy asked his new father.
"Yes, it is," Brad replied quietly as he gave Jeremy his own hug and kiss on the cheek.
Justin wrapped his arms around my neck, his sad eyes looking into mine. "Can we go get our toys?"
I tried very hard to maintain my composure, tried very hard to keep my emotions in check, but, as the words left my mouth, my efforts failed me and my voice began to break. "Your toys are all gone, Justin," I sobbed lightly. "Everything. . . is. . . gone."
Justin's gaze moved away from mine for a moment and I could see that he was thinking. For an instant, my mind imagined all the disappointment and anger and frustration he would feel and, undoubtedly, would direct it all toward me. I prepared myself to accept it and not to blame him. He and his twin brother had come to me with virtually nothing. I had given them everything, and now it was all gone. Perhaps if I hadn't got married and not been here for them. . .
And then Justin's eyes returned to mine and he said, "You still have us."
Were I able to write for a million years, I could never write enough words that would say as much as those four words Justin spoke to me that afternoon.
* * * * *
"It was my granddaughter's idea to use your barbeque to heat the water for tea and coffee," Dad said. He had phoned his work to find out if they could manage things without him for another short while and was assured that they could. He sat across from us now, sipping his fresh cup of tea. John Hayes sat on a second sofa to my left. Brad and I sat on the sofa with the boys curled up in our laps and Lindsay sitting between us. An assortment of sandwiches and cookies and small cakes sat on TV trays set up in front of us and we munched and sipped our drinks as Dad spoke.
"The firemen were still there when John and I went to retrieve it," he continued, "but the fire, for the most part, had been extinguished by that time. There was little left for them to do except to clean up their equipment and to make certain there were no hot spots remaining which might flare up once again."
Dad went silent then, leaning forward to grab up another sandwich before sitting back and taking a few small bites of it and chewing them slowly. Mom and Bernice and Terry joined us, but, for the most part, little was said. I needed things to be said, though. I needed to know what had happened. I knew Dad had not returned to work so he could tell us, but now I could see that he was trying to avoid it.
"What happened, Dad?" I asked.
Dad took another sip of his tea, set the half-eaten sandwich on a square of paper towel on his lap, and began to speak once more. He'd barely begun when the doorbell rang. Fearing that a neighbour had dropped by to tell us that the fire had flared up again, both Brad and I followed Bernice with our eyes as she stood up and left the room to greet her visitor.
A moment later, we heard the door open and Bernice saying, "Oh, hello."
This was followed by a familiar voice saying excitedly, "Oh, good! I found you! Remember me from the wedding? I'm David and I just heard the news."
"Yes, of course," Bernice replied. "I remember you. Bradley is here with Ted. Please come in."
"From England already?" A moment later, David appeared in the archway of the livingroom and, after a quick glance around at the others in the room, his eyes fell on us. "Thank God everyone's alright," he said with undisguised relief in his voice. "Lori phoned me in Toronto and told me and. . . well, I didn't quite know what to expect when I got here."
"We're all fine, David," I told him. "We're tired, but everyone's fine."
"When did you get back?"
"Just after lunchtime," I said as I slid closer to the arm of the sofa to make room for David to sit down. "Scoot over, Sweetheart." Instead of squeezing closer, she decided to share my lap with her brother. Brad slid over next to me and David sat beside him. "Dad was just about to tell us what happened last night," I said to him, "and he has to go back to work soon."
David nodded his understanding and I nodded at Dad to continue.
"I was just telling my Son that Terry had heard a weather report on the car radio as she drove to the football pitch to fetch Lindsay from football camp."
"I thought they were in soccer camp?" David interrupted.
"Same thing," I told him. "I'll explain later. Go ahead, Dad."
Dad flashed a quick warning glance at David, then looked at me and went on with his story. "The children retired at their usual times whilst we adults settled down with a cuppa to track the storms on the Weather Channel. It was already raining, but there was no indication of what was to come.
"By half-nine, I became quite concerned. Environment Canada had issued numerous storm watches and warnings, all of which included tornado watches, and the station began to broadcast video footage of the storms as they crossed south-western Ontario. I decided it would be prudent to collect the children from their beds and to keep them with us in case a hasty retreat to the basement was required.. Terry had the presence of mind to gather torches and purses and a few other necessities in case we lost the electrics. We were still dressed but the children were wearing their pyjamas, robes, and slippers."
"The storms came so swiftly, Teddy," Mom added with a shudder of remembrance. "There was barely time to prepare ourselves for them. One moment they were a mere rumble of thunder far to the west of us and the next moment they were upon us."
"We were scared, Daddy Brad," Jeremy said.
"As were we all, my Sonskyn," Dad continued.
"We used to get nasty storms in the Ottawa Valley," Terry told us, "but I don't ever remember anything like last night. It was like all the storms for one year packed into one ten-minute blast."
"The boys sat with me and Lindsay sat with her grandmother on the sofa. Terry sat on the settee holding the lantern torch with her finger resting on the switch. The rain pelted the windows and we could hear it through the ceiling. The lights flickered once and the television switched off. It did not come on again."
"The house shaked, Daddy," Justin said excitedly as he held his arms out in front of himself and began to wriggle about on my lap. "Like this."
"Indeed it did," Dad said with a little smile, and then his face turned serious. "I heard the wind coming, Theodore, and I am certain the others heard it as well. We could hear it even over the crashing thunder and the rumble of the rain. I said simply ‘basement' and stood up with the boys in my arms. Your mother took our granddaughter by the hand and Terry switched on the lantern just in case. I had taken only a few steps toward the stairwell when the crash of breaking glass came from down the hall."
"The garbage can in Lindsay's room," Brad said, his voice soft and filled with awe and fear as he listened to Dad's tale.
"Yes," Dad nodded. "The wind was blowing through the smashed window and reaching us even in the lounge. It was a chilled wind to be sure. The sound of the wind continued to grow and my grandsons grasped at my shirt and began to cry and to scream. I became somewhat concerned that we would not make it to the basement in time, but just as I neared the top of the stairway, there was a mighty flash of lightning and crash of thunder and they occurred at exactly the same moment..
"The house went dark, of course, except for the torches Terry carried. The emergency lamps in the hall and basement came on as I hesitated at the top of the steps. But I had seen the sparks in the basement and I knew that we were in serious danger even before the smoke alarms began to sound. I could smell an electrical fire. It is a smell unlike any other - acrid and bitter. One which burns the nose on the inside. I knew immediately that the house had been struck by lightning and we had to get out."
Dad paused a moment, taking a deep breath and gathering his thoughts. It was becoming more and more difficult for him to speak. I was certain that he had been a pillar of strength last night as he had been most of the day, but now it was getting to him and he was having trouble keeping his emotions under control. I could see that Dad had been very scared and was trying very hard to hide it from everyone, but he wasn't quite succeeding. No-one mentioned it, though. We merely waited for him to continue, which he did after a few more moments.
"We went to the patio doors to stay in the lee of the storm, but we could hear the wind moving off toward the east. I am not certain if it was a tornado or a. . . what did they call that on the telly, Terry?"
"Straight-line wind?" Terry offered.
"Yes, thank you," Dad said. "I do not know if it was a tornado or a straight-line wind, but the wind seemed to take the storm and the rain with it and there was little more than a drizzle. Still, before we left and closed the door behind us, I knew there was fire in the basement. I could clearly smell it. We crossed over the stone wall and made our way to the back door here."
"Grandpa couldn't hear us," Jeremy interjected, which was quickly followed by Justin's comment, "Oupa had to kick the door."
"Indeed," said Dad. Then, with a glance toward John Hayes, he fell silent and let Brad's father take over the story.
"Terry phoned Nine-One-One as soon as she got here. Already the sirens were sounding outside. Still, it took almost forty minutes for the fire department get here. The truck which finally arrived, in fact, came from Whitby. By that time, though, the fire had a good hold. There wasn't much the firemen could do except to. . ."
John left the sentence unfinished. It wasn't necessary for him to finish it. We all knew what the rest of it was.
* * * * *
The twins probably would have taken a nap had they not been so excited about wanting to go watch the Hydro One men and the cherry pickers. Truth be told, Brad and I probably would have joined them in their nap. We were still working on London time and about three hours of sleep. I could have used a good nap. Dad had returned to work for the rest of the day and John was inside with our mothers and Lindsay. I'd sent Terry home to make certain she still had one, promising to call her as soon as we figured out what we were going to do but, for now, to sit back and take a well-deserved break. Brad and I stood outside on the Hayes' front yard with the boys in our arms. They still refused to allow us to set them down. David had joined us there and, together, we watched the men at work.
The initial shock had left us by then and was being replaced either by acceptance or denial. I wasn't sure which. For myself, I realized that I had everything that was most important to me - everything which could never be replaced. I had beautiful new husband, three fantastic kids, an incredible, loving family, and loving, caring friends. Those things could
never be replaced, no matter how much money you had. Everything else - everything we had lost - had a price tag.
We had finished telling David about the phone call we received in London and our hurried trip home.
"You must be totally wiped," he said at the end of it.
"Still too high on adrenaline to be wiped," I told him. "Right now, I'd say we're just a bit shagged."
David turned to look at the house before turning back to me and saying, "Still, coming home to something like this. . ."
"We could have come home to a lot worse, David," I said with a slight nod toward Justin and Jeremy.
"Oh, for sure."
"Hey, David. You said Lori had called you in Toronto. Is there something we should know?"
"What do you mean?"
"Come on, David. You were at Brook's, weren't you? We saw how you went all ga-ga over him at the wedding and the reception. You were practically drooling. Have you even been back at Lori's place since Saturday night?"
"Of course I have," David protested seriously, and then his face relaxed into a mischievous little smirk and his eyes twinkled like a devilish little leprechaun's. "To get clean clothes."
"Thought so."
"Sounds pretty serious," Brad said, returning the mischievous smirk.
"He's so wonderful, Brad," David said dreamily. "He's beautiful and sexy and funny and gentle and loving and caring. You know, we went out Sunday night for dinner and we walked down Yonge Street holding hands and hardly anyone even noticed us and no-one gave us any sh. . . crap. That doesn't happen back home. It's bad enough when two guys walk down the street hand in hand. It's a lot worse when one's black and one's white. Hell, he even kissed me right there on the street and no-one batted an eye. I tell you, he's a fantastic kisser and the. . . um. . . ‘you-know-what' is. . . well. . . it blew my mind."
"What about further south?" I asked.
"Don't even get me started about ‘further south'," David replied. "I'm still tingling." And then he put his hand on my arm, stretched up onto his tiptoes, and kissed my cheek.
"What was that for?"
"For letting me go to your wedding and introducing me to Brook," he replied happily.
"It really sounds serious between the two of you."
David's hand squeezed my arm. "I certainly hope so, Ted."
* * * * *
We were back inside the Hayes home, sitting on the sofa. The twins were fast asleep on our chests. Even the excitement of watching the men in the cherry pickers hadn't been enough to keep them awake and they had fallen asleep outside with their heads resting on the pillows of our shoulders. David was sitting with us. Lindsay was out in the kitchen with her grandmothers and Grandpa Hayes. Suddenly, there were several beeps from the microwave and coffee maker which had just came to life again in the kitchen and the refrigerator began to hum. Two lamps in the livingroom lit up the corners and the faceplate on the VCR atop the television began to flash ‘12:00'. Hydro One had reconnected us to the grid and the power was back on.
John came into the livingroom and asked Brad to help him board up the windows of our house with the plywood and to place the tarp over the hole in the roof. With the power back on, they could use the saws and power tools, but David quickly rose to his feet and offered his assistance instead. "That's what I do," he said. "Besides. Brad's too busy being a bed for whichever one that is."
"Jeremy," Brad responded softly, "but it's not necessary, David. It's our house. I can help Dad."
"And you can sit here and relax," David insisted. "I'm in construction, remember? This is what I do. Besides, I know how to fall off a roof without landing on my head. Do you?" Before he even gave Brad a chance to respond, he grabbed John by the elbow and said, "Come on, Mr. Hayes. I'll help you."
Brad and I were left alone with the sleeping twins in the livingroom. Brad snuggled closer to me and put his head on the shoulder that wasn't occupied by Justin's head and I tilted my head to the side, resting my cheek against his hair. The next thing I knew, Mom was gently shaking me awake.
"Teddy. Wake up, Son. It's time for dinner and then it's time to go home."
Brad's head lifted off my shoulder and he sat up straight. Justin began to stir against my chest and Jeremy began to rouse himself as well. After a quick trip to the bathroom with the boys, we returned to the livingroom where the TV trays had been set up once more and the chicken and fries and salads were set out on the coffee table. Dad had stopped at Kentucky Fried Chicken after work to buy supper for everyone, including David who had been invited to stay by John and Bernice.
Dad told us that he had done some phoning around. The fire marshal would be around tomorrow afternoon along with a structural engineer to investigate the safety of the house and to discover the official cause of the fire. As we had slept, Mom and Bernice had gathered all the clothes and toys and such that were in the Hayes home. They figured we would need it now. Everything fit into two small grocery bags.
Dinner was surprisingly delicious and, after eating dinner, we loaded all of our remaining possessions into the van and the trunk of Dad's car. There was frighteningly little of it. Until we could sort out our lives and find out what we were going to do and where we were going to go, we would be staying with Mom and Dad.
We had already bid our thanks and farewells to David, who had left after dinner to return to Toronto and his new lover, Brook. After tearful farewells to John and Bernice Hayes, we buckled the twins into their safety seats in the van and Lindsay buckled herself into the back seat of Dad's car. She would ride home with them. We would pick up my other car and Brad's truck later on.
With a final wave to John and Bernice and one last sorrowful look at our house, we backed out of the driveway and, without another look behind us, drove away and left our old lives in the rearview mirror.
To Be Continued
