Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11 AROUND NOON Charlie tried to walk fast, but the wind was getting stronger, and it was pushing hard against him. He shouldered his way forward, his head down. It had started to pour. But as he made his way farther from the beach, he noticed that everything seemed… normal.

Carriages and buggies rattled by like always. Kids stomped through puddles. The streetcar's jolly ding, ding, ding echoed from nearby. And back home it seemed like just a typical rainy Saturday. He found his family in the kitchen. Mama was baking her famous gingersnaps. Papa was sitting at the table, organizing his tools. He was getting ready to start a big new building job on Monday. Lulu was sitting next to Papa, her face sticky from the cookie-dough-covered spoon she was licking. "Chowie!" Lulu sang to him when he walked into the kitchen. Mama took one look at him and gasped. "Goodness! You're soaked!" she exclaimed, rushing out quickly and returning with a blanket. "The Pagoda is gone," Charlie said as Mama wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. "Gone?" Mama gasped. "What do you mean?"

"The waves at the beach are… huge. I've never seen the Gulf so rough," Charlie said. "They tore it apart." He thought of those wild dogs again. "How terrible!" Mama said. Papa let out a long whistle and shook his head. He didn't look shocked, though. "Every few years a big storm comes along," he said. "Some buildings get damaged. A few might get swept away. It's the price we pay for living on this beautiful island. They'll rebuild right away. They'll make the Pagoda even stronger. You'll see." Charlie still felt uneasy. "Could this be… a hurricane?" Charlie asked. "Of course not," Papa said. "What that?" Lulu asked, eyes wide with curiosity. Mama raised her eyebrows with alarm, signaling to Papa and Charlie to stop the discussion—now. Of course she was right,

Charlie knew. Hurricane was not a word any two-year-old needed to learn. Especially Lulu. Mama wiped Lulu's hands and face and took her off for a nap. Charlie started to follow them. He felt silly. And he needed to change his clothes. But Papa waved for him to come back. He put down his screwdriver and pushed aside his big toolbox as Charlie sat next to him. He was cold, but being closer to Papa warmed him up. "You all right, son?" No, Charlie wanted to say. And he realized it wasn't only those giant waves and the torn-apart Pagoda that was making him feel sick. It was Gordon. But he couldn't tell Papa that. "Big storms can be fierce," Papa said, taking hold of Charlie's hand. "I've told you all about the big storm we had in 1886." Charlie nodded—Papa told that story as often as Grandpa talked about the Texas Revolution. It was a huge storm. Streets all along the beach

flooded. The bay flooded, too. There was so much water downtown that ships were sailing in the streets. "What I've never admitted to you, or anyone, is that I was completely terrified," Papa said. He peeked out the doorway, like he wanted to make sure Mama wasn't listening. "I was maybe seventeen years old. A big showoff. Nothing scared me!" He smiled a little and then shook his head. "But the sound of that wind, and all that water. I was so scared I got into bed and huddled under the covers." He chuckled softly. "I was just like Lulu. I'm surprised I didn't hide under the bed." Charlie cracked a smile, even though he could tell Papa wasn't kidding. "I somehow managed to fall asleep," Papa went on. "And when I woke up? The sun was shining. We'd lost some tree branches. There was a mess in the yard. But we cleaned it all up."

The wind let out a big blast, and the window rattled. Papa looked at it and waved his hand like he was shooing a fly. "This will be over soon. Don't worry." Charlie took a breath. The air smelled like gingersnaps. "Now, hurry up and change out of those wet clothes," Papa said. "Or Mama's going to make you wipe all the water off the kitchen floor." Charlie felt much better. He changed, ignoring the sounds of the pounding rain and howling wind. Luckily there was no thunder. He peeked in on Lulu—she'd fallen right to sleep. He figured he'd help Papa with his tools, but first he needed to use the privy. Never fun in weather like this. He opened the back door. The fierce wind sent a stinging spray of rain right into his eyes. He blinked hard as he took four steps to the privy and grabbed hold of the door handle.