Stuck in Limbo

Stuck in Limbo

Harold turned away from the front window. “It's not easing up, Ruth. Perhaps we'd better think about

evacuating.”

“The State Police said they'd give us warning if evacuating is warranted.” I walked to the window and

stood beside him. He put his arm around my waist.

“Let's not count on the authorities, Ruthie. We're closer to the river than anyone else in town. It's

rained four days straight. Safer than sorry, Dear Heart. I'd rather spend two days putting everything

back in order than spend two years waiting for an insurance settlement.”

“Have you checked the river this afternoon? It was at flood stage this morning.” I knew he had but

asked anyhow.

He kissed me on the forehead. “Sure glad I roofed the breezeway between the house and garage. We

can load the vehicles without getting soaked. Honestly Ruth, I have a really bad feeling about this

storm. The utility trailer is in the garage. Let's overthink this and take stuff that can't be replaced.”

So, we spent the rest of the afternoon loading the trailer. The club chairs we bought ourselves for our

twenty-fifth anniversary. Portraits, paintings, photographs came off the wall and were wrapped in

newspaper and put in boxes. The occasional tables Harold's Dad made and gave us as a wedding

present. We don't have moving pads but wrapped them in quilts. The Grandmother clock my Dad gave

us. Another quilt. Harold's old foot locker came down from the garage rafters and was soon filled with

bedding. The pantry filled several sturdy paper bags and were put in the trunk of my car. The riding

lawn mower was eased into the bed of Harold's truck. So was the new patio furniture. The large screen

TV we bought last year went into the truck's back seat..

I have always been a box saver and now it really paid off. I never break them down. When I need a

box I don't want to have to find packing take to reconstruct it. And I don't have the ability to decide

how big a box is when it's folded flat.I had even saved the huge cardboard that had held the television.

We loaded the trailer as tightly as possible. We each packed a personal suitcase and put them in the trunk. I had found and purchased a real Tiffany lamp at an estate sale a few years ago. I took pains to

make sure its box was well padded with newsprint. Yes, I save newspapers too.

We packed clothes into two boxes. Kitchen stuff – the blender, the new toaster, the pod coffee maker,

the anniversary present waffle iron. Then we carried furniture upstairs. We couldn't move it all – we're

rather old and can't afford to break or strain something serious at a time like this. But the kitchen table

and chairs, the dining room chairs with their hand woven seats, The occasional chairs in the living

room. My desk. Our electronics went into the back seat of the truck, neatly boxed. Well, the printer

was in its own box but all the other stuff with wires were boxed. Fortunately, a truck's back seat is

fairly large.

“Ruth, where are Sam and Stella? All this activity has probably spooked them.” The two cats were

curled up on the sofa – which we could not move upstairs. Harold got their travel carriers and eased

them into their own private safe space. “I think it's okay to leave Ralph out until we're ready to leave.

He's a coward and will not go out in the rain. Ralph is our black Labrador retriever. He had quit trying

to follow us around about an hour ago and was curled up on the hearth.

I stopped and shook my head. Tears close to falling. “Something wrong, Hon?”

“My books. I have complete series for so many favorite authors. I've collected books my whole lie. I

can't take them all. I'm sorry, I'm just having a pity party.”

“Sweetie, take what you're reading and perhaps the next four or 5 you plan to read. You always have a

stack of new books to read. Just take those. You have a complete inventory in the estate file. If we lose

a book, we can replace it.” I nodded. The papers for the house, deed, inventory, our passports, birth

certificates were already secured in my large briefcase.

“You're right. And in a week or so, when the water goes down, they'll all still be sitting right there on

their shelves.” I murmured a quiet prayer - my library was upstairs.

Harold went outside to cross the road and check the river. He was back in a few minutes. “Empty the

fridge. The road is already awash. There should have been an evacuation notice before this.” He pulled the loaded truck and trailer out of the garage and we finished tying down everything. He saw

my potted plants on the front porch and slipped them onto the floor of the back seat of the truck. I

picked up my purse and put on my raincoat. “Get Ralph into his carrier, Harold. I left room on the

back seat next to Sam and Stella.”

The house looked empty even with some larger pieces of furniture sitting in their usual places. I closed

and locked the front door. Backdoor was locked. Harold shut off the gas and water at the meters. I

slowly backed the car out of the garage and signaled Harold I was ready.

I called a friend in Vancouver just before leaving and asked if she could reserve a room for us at the

motel nearby in Camas that we stayed in ten or so years ago. I can never remember its name but she

knows it. I told her that we were bringing both vehicles and a utility trailer. She told me there is one

empty out building at her place where we can park the truck and trailer. Harold ran back to the car -

“Follow me as closely as is safe. There's a lot of water on the road. And turn on the intercom.”

There were times I could scarcely see the truck and trailer in front of me. The rain was coming

sideways and visibility was not the best. We drove for over an hour but actually traveled only about

thirty-five miles. There was a gas station with its lights on and Harold pulled in under the canopy on

the inside of the pumps; I pulled in on the outside of the same pumps. Even with the canopy, I got wet

as I got out of the car. I went into the convenience store part of the station and got half a dozen bottles

of water and two sandwiches. I gave Harold a sandwich and two of the bottles of water and kept the

rest for the animals and me. We talked for a few minutes. He wanted to be sure he knew where Elle

lived and to verify she said we can park the truck and trailer there.

In those few minutes, I realized that my stalwart husband is almost sure we're going to lose the house.

More than once he made a comment about no evacuation notice. Just as I was getting into the car, his

phone rang. It was Richard, our neighbor. An emergency evacuation notice was just issued. Get out as

soon as you can. Half an hour may be too late. I didn't say anything but thought thank God for my

husbands' intuition.

Harold reminded Richard to take important documents regarding his property and his passport, etc.

Yes, he had started to gather things after we had left. So he and Kathy were sort of ready. Harold

wished them good luck. And added, call me later.

Harold hugged me tightly. “Oh, Ruth, I have such an awful feeling.” We've been married over thirty-

five years. He has never been in such a defeated state before. Never.

The further south we went the more the rain eased. It didn't stop but was no longer like a waterfall. We

got to Elle's about ten that evening. She called the motel and confirmed the reservation at 8 so the

room would still be there whenever we arrived.

Harold and Jack got the truck and trailer backed into their out building. They offered us dinner. It'd

take just a few minutes to heat it up. The room was secure. The clerk hoped we could arrive by

midnight. When he learned we were fighting the storm and had evacuated our home, he said, “Get here

when you can. Room 8, I'll leave the key under the mat. We can take care of details in the morning.”

Elle and Jack suggested we bring in the animals. But Harold said they were sleeping and they were

warm. They'd be okay for now.

By the time I had washed my hands and face and was out of the bathroom, supper was on the table.

Talk was not the usual, casual talk we normally enjoy with Elle and Jack. Jack asked pertinent

questions about the river and status of the roads. Harold mentioned that an emergency evacuation

order had been issued more than an hour after we left.

The motel clerk was still at the desk when we arrived. He said that he had saved us a room with

kitchen. I think I had asked Elle to reserve that type room but she never mentioned it and I forgot to

ask/ Kitchen and animals okay? The clerk, Jerry, asked what kind of animals and we told him. We also

promised that if we were not in the room, they'd all be in their carriers. “I can't ask for anything more

than that. If you need something, don't hesitate to mention it.”

The room was surprisingly large. Even enough floor space to line up the pet carriers against the wall without crowding. Walk-in shower in a nice size bathroom. Gas stove and standard size refrigerator.

Harold brought the refrigerated food box in first. While I was putting that away, he brought in the

pantry bags and set them on the end of the counter. The motel furnished pots, pans, dishes, etc. I fed

the animals and put the litter box in the bathroom. Harold took Ralph out for a short walk. There was

very little rain but was raining.

By 12:30am, we were not only ready for bed but also totally exhausted.

We slept in the next morning. Well, for us, it's sleeping in. Eight o'clock and we were both showered.

I made breakfast. While eating, Harold mentioned that the motel clerk looks like a youngster he had in

some of his shop classes. I laughed and said, “I was trying to place him. I am sure - now that you

recognize him – Jerry Wilcox. He was in a couple of my English/Lit classes. What a small world.”

Harold chuckled. “Maybe it's motel policy, but I do believe that boy grew up as well as I always

thought he would. I'm taking Ralph out for walk in a few minutes and will stop at the office. We

definitely need to thank him for being so accommodating last evening.”

“I am surprised that the Wilcox family moved down this way. I don't remember any one ever

mentioning they moved. Weren't there younger brothers?”

“Ruth, he was in our classes more than ten years ago. He may have married and moved down. Or, who

knows how, when, or why. But I am sure the motel clerk is Jerry Wilcox.”

Harold and I are both retired teachers. We're not that old actually but Harold took a bad fall at school a

couple years ago. His doctor suggested retirement as the recovery could be long and difficult. We'd

been with the King County School District for just over thirty years. We could afford to retire. Our

home was paid for. And we had passed the new age for drawing social security. So, we retired.

The animals had been fed before I decided I'd take a nap. I slept well but am still tired. Harold, and

Ralph, said they wouldn't be gone long. Ralph was straining at the leash. He could smell all the new

territory to investigate. Sam and Stella joined me on the bed. Of course, they're up for a nap any time.

They are cats.

Less than an hour later, Harold and Ralph came in. Ralph was panting joyfully. That dog loves to be

outside.

“We were right, Ruthie. It is Jerry Wilcox. He and his wife own and operate the motel. They've been

married seven years. Met at Washington State. She's from Vancouver and actually inherited the motel

from her grandparents four years ago. Jerry said he was positive we were us last night but we both

looked so tired he thought he'd save his good to see yous until morning. He gave me a map of the area

and highlighted a few things that he thinks we'd enjoy if we are here for a while.

“Oh, and he said that they subscribe to only one Washington channel for the motel TV. It's located at

55 on the remote. The other three or four channels are all Portland based. But the Washington channel

is carrying a lot of weather related news this whole week. He thought we might be interested.”

Just as I thought to make some lunch, Harold let out a whoop. “Ruth, hurry.” I ran back into the other

room. “This looks like our area. They mentioned enough businesses, I'm sure it's right in our

neighborhood.” As he spoke, an announcer was narrating a film captured by drone that morning. It

began at a levee above the City and caught the actual breaching of the levee. The film followed the

surge to the White River. The river banks were not even visible.. A car floated by and the announcer

said, “Oh my gawd.” A federal blue house with white trim was floating in the middle of the river. We

both paled.

Our house is federal blue with white trim. The floating house was upright. We could see the white

railings of the front porch and upper balcony. We held each other closely. That is our house. The

entire area laughed when we painted it federal blue. We have the only blue house in town. We had the

only blue house in town. It was now floating away.

The drone followed it for several hundred yards and then turned back to the neighborhood. Our house

was missing. The garage was still standing, but the house was gone. The drone followed our little dead

end road to the main street. The Ames house was – it was still standing but the side of the house was bashed in and the roof seemed to be sliding off. We stood hugging each other and crying. Our

neighborhood was effectively gone, demolished, stolen.

We watched the rest of that news segment. The levee had broken in the last few hours and much

further destruction is anticipated. Lunch was off our minds. But Harold went to the fridge and pulled

out two beers. As he poured mine into a glass, he said, “I will never forget that image as long as I

live.”

Some time later, in an effort to make light rather than cry again, Harold said, “What a house. We leave

it alone and it goes cruisin' down the river.” And then he cried.

We both cried quite a bit that day.

The only bright spot was that Harold had this feeling of absolute dread yesterday. We lost the house

but we didn't lose things we could never replace. We lost a house and some furniture.

We were practically glued to the television after that newscast. We found that two of the Portland

stations had picked up that particular clip. We watched our home bob up and down on a tumultuous

White River at least four more times in the next two hours. We were cried out but could not stop

ourselves from watching the house slip along the river.

The question now – Where do we go from here? In a disaster such as this, even if it moved quickly,

the insurance would seem slow. We have no house. Do we live in a motel for years waiting for the

insurance to deteermine our house is actually one?

Crying does not help but it does soothe the soul.