Through the Storm(9)
Gruff wouldn’t stop barking at the horses, so Drake pulled him back to the house and shut the doggie door with the metal plate. Then he returned to the living room and stared at the phone. How do you look up a number without a computer? As he glanced about the room, his gaze fell upon an end table beside his dad’s favorite chair. He recalled his father kept a phonebook in a drawer.
Drake browsed the unfamiliar pages and discovered that the number wasn’t listed under power or electric company. It took Drake several frustrating minutes to find what he needed. He lifted the receiver to his ear.
No dial tone.
It was an old-fashioned phone with no electric plug. Even without power, it should work. He tapped the plungers, picked it up, and shook it. He turned it upside down and sideways, but nothing seemed wrong. It just didn’t work.
Why does Dad keep this ancient thing?
Briefly, he considered banging it against something.
After an angry sigh and a few more shakes of the phone, he thought of trying to start the generator or using one of the more modern landline phones. His dad had shown him once how to connect the generator. Drag it outside, flip the special switch in the breaker box, and use the special cable to hook it up to the house electric system.
Visions of lights blinking, sparks flying, and the house burning down flitted through his head. The power would be back on soon.
Drake let his gaze drift over the dark and messy living room. Would his dad think he caused the power outage? Perhaps he would if he came home now and saw the mess from the party. He could almost hear his dad say, “What did you do, blow every circuit breaker in the house?” Drake was pretty sure the power outage covered at least a few homes but didn’t want to have to explain that to an angry dad. Before his father got home, Drake needed to finish his chores and clean the house.
Drake hurried from the house with Gruff right behind. He scanned the area for the horses and spotted them in the apple orchard. Gruff now seemed oblivious to the horses, so Drake grabbed a bucket and hurried to his chores with the dog following. Hand pumping the water made his chores take twice as long. He rubbed tender spots on his palms.
When he finished, Drake jogged toward the Hamilton house a few hundred yards down the road. Why hadn’t they noticed that their horses were out? At least, after he told them, he could turn his attention to housecleaning. The day might still work out.
An eight-foot, wrought-iron fence blocked entry to the Hamilton farm from the road, but normally the gate stood wide open. As he turned into the driveway, Drake slowed to a walk. The gate stood closed and locked with a chain.
While this way was blocked, only a few strands of electric fence, trees, bramble, and bushes stood between his place and the Hamiltons’.
He ran back to his farm and grabbed gloves and clippers from the barn. Then he hiked over a small knoll near the house into a small wooded area. Drake cut through the bramble to the wire of the electric fence. Sweating and bleeding from several cuts, Drake tapped at the wire.
No zap.
He slid through, ran to the Hamilton home, and pressed the doorbell.
Nothing.
He knocked on the door. After a few moments, he banged again. Hearing no movement from inside, he walked around the house and peered in each window. He felt like a burglar checking out a target. With a frustrated grunt, he concluded no one was home. What should I do about the horses? He knew that chasing them would only scare the animals away, so he went to the neighbor’s barn and poured grain into a bucket.
It took more patience than Drake thought he possessed, but eventually he lured the horses into the old corral behind his house. Then he filled a galvanized tub by hand-pumping gallons of water into buckets.
Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran into his eyes, stinging them closed. He wiped his face with his shirt, massaged his now blistered hands, and plopped down on the back steps. He should get the horses hay from the Hamiltons’ barn, but that would entail several trips through the bramble. The neighbors would certainly be home soon.
No, right now he needed to clean the house.
Stepping through the back door, he glanced at the full laundry basket. With the power out, at least he didn’t have to do that. Next, he came to the sink full of dirty dishes.
I’m really tired of pumping water.
Washing dishes with cold water seemed harder, especially the greasy ones. Normally, the dishwasher dried the dishes, but now he spent extra time wiping them with a towel. It seemed forever before he finished and dragged himself to the living room.
There, a dozen bowls and glasses from the party awaited him. He sighed. Next party I’m using only disposable stuff. He collected the items, found more in his room and a cup in Conner’s, and returned to the kitchen for more dish washing and drying. Finally done with every bowl, glass, spoon, knife, and fork, he returned to the living room.
How do you clean a carpet without a vacuum? Drake closed his eyes. Please God, I could really use a vacuum. When he opened his eyes, Gruff was eating bits of food from the floor.
“Good boy.”
Still, he retrieved a broom and swept the carpet where Gruff hadn’t done his best work. Then Drake rubbed spots with a wet rag, and finally plucked fragments of popcorn and chips with his fingers.
As he stood from cleaning the carpet, he noticed dried spills and crumbled chips on the furniture. Determined to erase any hint of the party, Drake used a wet rag to wipe every surface. Then he bagged all the trash and hauled it out.