Chapter 91

"But you just told me to try walking around with her," Brandon objected.

"She's still crying. Maybe she's hungry instead," Amanda said, putting a pillow on her lap and getting ready to feed the baby.

"I've only walked four steps."

"Just give her to me, will you?" Amanda said.

"Fine." Brandon handed their wailing daughter back to his wife.

The baby didn't immediately latch on to Amanda. "See?" Brandon said, "you should have let me walk her longer."

"Like you're the expert?"

No, he wasn't the expert. Amanda was the expert. Brandon was beginning to wonder if a telepathic umbilical cord had replaced the actual umbilical cord at birth, because Amanda always knew exactly what the baby needed and it was never him. He felt a bit of glee that she was wrong this time. Then the baby latched on and began sucking greedily.

"There, angel baby, you just wanted your mommy, didn't you?" Amanda cooed at her, stroking the fuzz on her head.

"First you tell me you need a break from her, then you tell me she wants to eat. I wish you'd make up your mind," Brandon said.

Amanda's eyes filled with tears. "You don't have to get snappy about it."

Great. The baby stops crying, so his wife starts. And it was somehow his fault. Again. "Sorry," he muttered.

Rather than mess up again, he strode out of the family room and into the front living room. A solid cloud cover and steady rain made the late summer day gray and dreary outside the window. He was sick of the rain. He was sick of the baby crying. He was sick of his wife crying. He wanted to do something useful and sweaty and loud, something to burn off all the pent-up energy and good intentions that couldn't make his daughter sleep peacefully or his wife smile. He wanted to go four-wheeling in the mud, or water-skiing, or hiking, or just anything.

He opened the front door and stepped onto the porch. The warm wet evening enveloped him, the sound of rain replacing the never-ending colicky cries of his baby. He shoved his hands in his pockets and let the rain beat on his hair and roll down his face.

His neighbor, Brian Anderson, waved at him as he pulled into his driveway next door. Brandon waved back.

Then a blue Ford F350 full of sandbags drove up the street. The significance of that didn't register with Brandon for a couple minutes, and then he felt a leap of excitement.

"Hey, honey!" he said as he went back in the house.

"Ssh!"

"Sorry. Did I wake her up?"

"She's just barely going to sleep."

"I need to go out for a few minutes. I just saw a truck with a load of sandbags head up to that cul-de-sac where they had the fire a couple weeks ago. I'm going to take some stuff and go see if they need help." Brandon was already on his way to the mudroom. He exchanged his shoes for a pair of duck boots and pulled on his Patagonia rain slicker. He grabbed his heavy leather work gloves and headed out to the garage, where he threw a shovel and rake in the back seat of his Blazer. After opening the garage and seeing the falling dusk, he swept the garage shelf clean of flashlights and put them in the front seat. He'd bought a floodlight a couple years ago and never used it. He rooted it out from under some climbing gear and wrapped the orange extension cord into a huge loop and tossed it in the front seat next to all the flashlights.

"You're driving up the street?" Amanda appeared in the doorway.

"I need to take some equipment. We might need it," said Brandon. "You and the baby stay here."

"Well, obviously." Amanda went back in the house and shut the door.

Brandon got in his Blazer and pulled out of the driveway. Then he wondered if he really was going to be able to walk up to total strangers and ask if they needed help. He needed someone who knew the neighbors up the street. He pulled up to the sidewalk and jumped out next door to get Brian Anderson.

He knocked on the Anderson's door and waited. Ruth opened the door.

"Is your dad here?" he asked her.

"Dad!" Ruth yelled. "It's Amanda's husband!"

Brian and Hannah came into the room with an older man with black hair. "Hi, Brandon. This is my father-in-law, Eliott Barrera. He came to town for Hannah's baptism on Saturday. Eliott, this is my neighbor, Brandon."

Brandon shook hands with Eliott, getting antsy and wishing he hadn't wasted the time to stop and get his neighbor. He wouldn't want to come if they had company. "Sorry to bother you. It's probably nothing. But I saw a blue Ford F350 take a load of sandbags up the street. I was going to go help, and wondered if you wanted to ride along. You probably know who needs help better than I do."

Maria came into the living room in time to hear Brandon. "They've had some basements flood down by 1100 South. And I saw an interview on the news with a farmer who had to evacuate his horses when his irrigation ditch flooded his field."

"The city announced on the radio that they have sandbags in Willow Park for anyone who needs to come get them. I saw a blue Ford truck head up the street with a load of sandbags." Brandon was anxious to get back to the reason he was here, not get bogged down in small talk.

"Derek Snyder drives a blue Ford F350. He lives up in that new cul-de-sac next to the Bakers. That wildfire last week burned all the vegetation off the hill. I bet it's shedding water like a duck. Let me get my boots and some work gloves." Brian turned and went down the hall.

"Sorry to interrupt your visit," Brandon said to Brian's father-in-law.

"No trouble," the older man said kindly. "You are a good neighbor."

"How are Amanda and Baby Sophie doing?' Maria asked. Hannah took her mother's hand.

"Better if Sophie would sleep more." Brandon was saved by further small talk by Brian's reappearance. He pulled a worn jacket out of the closet.

"We might be a while," Brian said to Maria.

"We're fine," Maria said.

"Mom, can I call Kennedee and see if she's okay?" Hannah asked.

"The Bakers have enough to do right now. We're not going to bother them. Besides, it's bedtime in half an hour," her mom answered.

Brandon heard Hannah groan in protest as he and Brian headed out the door. Brandon tossed the flashlights and floodlight into the back seat and they climbed in the Blazer. "Did you hear about the flash flooding in Provo Canyon?" he said.

"Is Bridal Veil Falls gone again?" Brian said.

"Not yet," Brandon said. Then he turned the corner and pulled into the cul-de-sac and parked at the curb behind a van.

Brian nodded at the van. "Looks like the Young Men beat us here. That's Ken Holgreen's van. There must be a load of priests around here. Let's go find them."

Brandon got out of the Blazer and flipped his hood up, then back down. The rain had momentarily slacked off. He grabbed two maglights and followed Brian into the backyard of a stuccoed and gabled mini-mansion that had a basketball hoop in the driveway. The blue Ford was parked in the backyard, wheels sunk two inches into the sodden lawn. Up near the back property line, a row of men and older teenage boys were busy stacking sandbags. The rain had brought an early and deepening twilight. Brandon couldn't see the hillside.

"Derek!" Brian called out. Brandon joined him to find out what was going on.

"Hey, Brian! We're losing the retaining wall," Derek said, barely registering their presence.

"Do you need some light?" Brandon asked, and turned on the maglights.

Derek turned and looked at him. "Thanks! Yeah!"

"This is my neighbor, Brandon Grayson," Brian said.

"Derek Snyder," Derek said, shaking Brandon's hand. Brandon returned the handshake. It had been a long time since someone had automatically shaken his hand just for an introduction.

"I've got a floodlight in my car. Do you know where I can plug in an extension cord?" Brandon said.

"How long is your extension cord? I've got exterior outlets facing the Baker's house. Let's get it set up." Derek and Brandon went off together to rig the lighting.

---

"Brian! Come on!" Brian fell into step as someone tugged on his sleeve. He recognized Kevin Daley, who owned a landscaping company.

"How bad is it?" Brian asked him.

"I'm not going to say a word about people who build on a thirty degree slope," Kevin said. "There's not a flat inch of land between the mountain and the Baker's house."

That was an exaggeration. Brian could see fifteen feet of flat backyard between the retaining wall and the house.

"I can throw sandbags," Brian said. The rain picked back up. He wished he had a hood on his jacket. Instead, the rain ran down his neck. Good thing it was a warm rain.

"You're hired," Kevin said.

Brandon's floodlight came on, and a cheer went up. Brian wished he'd grabbed his Coleman lanterns. He had two stashed away in the camping equipment.

"Stop trying to build a retaining wall out of sandbags," Kevin shouted, and Gary Baker, the homeowner, turned around.

"Where are you sending the water?" Kevin asked. He pointed east. "You're just going to dump it into the Snyder's yard if you can keep it out of your yard. We've got to make a channel to get the water off the mountain and into the storm drain in the street. Look, right here." Kevin indicated a line that would flow from the crumbling retaining wall through the trees and into the front yard, where it could flood the street. "The water's got to go somewhere. Let's get it into the street."

Gary Baker looked overwhelmed. Brian hauled a sandbag off the truck and dumped it along the line Kevin had pointed out. Kevin grabbed a second sandbag. "Let's set up a bucket brigade line and get this river built before the rain gets worse."

The men in the yard began responding to Kevin's authority. Ken Holgreen directed the priests to dismantle the pile of sandbags shoring up the retaining wall and get the line of sandbags started by the hillside while some of the other men joined Brian and Kevin in creating the next section of the river.

Brian found himself as the line's midpoint, receiving a tossed sandbag from one man, then turning to toss it to the man who dropped it onto the sodden ground. At some point he realized the man throwing him sandbags off the truck was Brandon.

"Good call on bringing a floodlight," Brian yelled.

"There's another one," Brandon said, nodding towards the west neighbors, where two more floodlights had just turned on, illuminating the rain against the dark sky. It looked like younger boys holding the floodlights, maybe the Baker's son, Dylan, and another boy his age.

Then there wasn't any more breath for talking. The rain ebbed and flowed on Brian, who was so wet he barely registered when no new rain was coming down. He settled into a rhythm of catch and toss with the rough blow of the sandbag against his biceps and chest creating the momentum he threw back into the sandbag as he heaved it to the third man in the line. The smell of dirt, rain and sand blended with the shouts of the other men in the yard and the occasional crack of thunder. He'd never felt so connected to the world and a community as he did right now, working and sweating to help save his neighbor's house.

---

"Dude, I want to throw sandbags," John Nesbitt said to Dylan, who was holding the other floodlight.

Dylan stared at him. "Why? They're heavy."

John shrugged, his eyes following his dad, Tom Nesbitt, who was grunting and heaving sandbags into a makeshift riverbank. There was already muddy water streaming into it off the mountain. He aimed his floodlight so his dad could see what he was doing. Someone grabbed his dad's shoulder and pointed to another area. His dad nodded and moved off to start work further down the line. John's floodlight moved with him.

---

Jayden Benton wasn't afraid of the thunder. It was the lightning that scared him. He clung to his dad and held on harder when dad tried to give him to mom.

"I have to go, Buddy. Brother Fish just called and said they're sandbagging the Baker's house. I won't be very long. You stay here with mom, Carson and the baby, okay? You be a good boy, okay? Dad has to go," dad said, peeling himself out of Jayden's body hug.

Jayden held on tighter. Mom didn't have time to hug him. She had to feed the baby. She always had to feed the baby. Jayden didn’t like the new baby. He wanted his dad, but his dad was pulling his arms away. "No!" he sobbed.

"You stay here and help mom with the baby, okay?" dad said.

Dad finally got Jayden's arms off of him and walked to the door, pulling on a rain slicker and stuffing gloves in his pocket. Jayden cried and ran after him. Mom pulled him back.

"You'll come home if they've got everything under control?" she asked dad, trying to hug Jayden.

"They need my help," dad said.

"We need your help too," mom said. "At least until Carson is in bed. It's so hard with all three of them."

"Yeah, I'll come back if they don't need me," dad said, his eyes sliding away from her. He shut the door behind him.

"Whatever. I'd rather go play in the rain too," mom said. She tried to sit Jayden on her lap, but there wasn't room because the baby was already on mom's lap. Then Carson tried to get on mom's lap too and mom pushed both of them off.

"Do you want to watch Elmo?" she offered.

"Elmo!" Carson said, and ran to the television.

Jayden sat on the couch while mom started the Elmo movie. But then the thunder boomed again. When the lightning lit up all the windows in the house, he ran upstairs and hid in the closet where it smelled like dad.

---

"Who was that?" Carly Simmons asked her husband when he hung up the phone.

"Brother Fish. He said they're sandbagging the Baker's house and need everyone in the Elder's Quorum who can make it," Spencer said.

"I'll get your gloves for you," Carly said, opening the door to the garage.

It irritated him that she just assumed he was going. There were plenty of other men in the Elder's Quorum who were in a lot better shape than he was. A wet, soggy, unpleasant job like this was better suited to the Young Men. He should have asked Brother Fish if the Young Men were going. They needed more opportunities to learn how to serve.

Spencer opened the hall closet. He had his overcoat he wore to work in the winter, and a light blue parka. He ought to have a waterproof, gray rain slicker like he saw in last month's issue of Outdoor Outfitters. But he didn't. Could he wear a light blue parka to help throw sandbags?

He got the parka out of the closet and shrugged into it. If he didn't go and watch, Carly would nag him. Or maybe she wouldn't. She hadn't said much to him since he'd blown up at her last week. The silence was nice. He could stay home, and even tell her she needed to put his gloves away since she was the one who got them out. He'd tell her that he didn't want to risk throwing out his back.

Wait a minute. If he threw out his back, he might need to see a doctor for back pain. That meant a new prescription for Lortab, or maybe even Oxycontin. Some people could get a permanent back injury from something like hauling sandbags. He might need a lifetime prescription for painkillers. With a little more enthusiasm, he looked for his boots. He didn't have boots. He'd have to wear tennis shoes. Wearing bad shoes on slippery mud might contribute to a back injury.

He slowed as he tied his laces. He didn't really want a back injury. It would hurt. But if he got muddy and wet and claimed his back hurt, who would ever know the difference?

After his shoes were on, he zipped up his parka. Danna came in the room. She glanced at him, but didn't say anything. He didn't say anything either. Danna wasn't an easy person to talk to.

"Here they are," Carly said, handing him his gloves.

"Thanks," he told her. "Don't wait up. I might be out late." He headed out the door.

---

After Spencer left, Carly was left standing with nothing to do. Danna was in the room, and that always made Carly twitchy. She had to do something.

"I think I'll make some sandwiches," she said.

Danna shrugged. "Whatever."

"Oh, you didn't hear, did you? The ward is helping the Bakers put sandbags around their house. They're afraid the basement is going to flood with all this rain. Your dad is going to help with the sandbags. I'm going to make some sandwiches for them to eat," Carly explained. She went into the kitchen and got out a loaf of bread, the cheese, mayonnaise, leftover baked ham, lettuce, and tomatoes.

"It's eight-thirty in the evening. You really think they need sandwiches?" Danna asked.

Carly didn't answer. Danna was so disrespectful. Why didn't she go find something to do? Of course they needed sandwiches. People praised Carly for her cooking and the way she always pitched in to help without being asked, unlike Spencer, who had to be called on the phone and then encouraged by his wife.

Carly had thought hard after Spencer yelled at her in front of the entire family last week. She'd finally concluded that Spencer had gone a little bit crazy, and she should forgive him and never bring it up again. If he really was angry that she was too perfect, then it was just plain old jealousy. She should simply keep doing what she'd always done, and he would eventually overcome his jealousy and appreciate her.

Carly made sandwiches.

---

Tracy Nesbitt was playing Old Maid with Davey when the phone rang.

"Hello?" she said, drawing a card from Davey's hand.

"Sister Nesbitt?"

"Speaking," Tracy said, setting down her hand of cards. She didn't know who was on the other end, but she could tell she was crying.

"I need help," the caller said. "The baby's crying, and I can't find Jayden, and Jason went to help at the Baker's, and I'm crying too, and Carson keeps trying to climb on me, and I wish Jason would come home but he probably won't, and I can't find Jayden!"

"Nicole? I'll be right over," Tracy said.

"Thanks," Nicole sobbed.

Tracy hung up. "Davey, do you want to come with me and play with the Benton boys? I bet Carson would love to show you his trains. Go get your jacket."

"Yeah, mom!" Davey said, and dropped his cards on the table.

"Abby!" Tracy called upstairs. "Let's go over to Sister Benton's house. She needs some help with her kids."

Abby and Ruth thundered down the stairs together. "I love Sister Benton's new baby!" Ruth proclaimed. "I get to hold the new baby!"

"I get to hold her too," Abby insisted.

"I'm sure you'll both get a turn," Tracy said. "Where are your jackets? It's pouring outside."

As the two girls turned to run back up the stairs for their jackets the lights flickered. They came back on full strength for a few seconds, and then the house was plunged in darkness as the power went out.