Rushing Waters (10 page)

“Let's all go,” Gina said gratefully. Charles had taken the situation in hand, and was taking care of them, and made her feel protected, instead of Nigel making her feel abandoned. There would be a lot to say about it, after the hurricane was over. She didn't like the way he had left her to her own devices, and seemed not to be worried about her or the girls. They weren't his children, but she had expected more of him, and he was disappointing her severely. This was the first time she had seen such extreme evidence of his selfishness. He had always been sweet to her before. But Nigel had never taken care of anyone in his life, or been responsible for anyone. And he clearly cared more about his artist friends than about Gina and her girls. She was suddenly deeply grateful for Charles, and remembered how he had always been there for her, and he still was. And he seemed stronger and more in control than ever now, and she knew that she and their girls were in good hands. Charles had risen to the occasion like the gentleman and kind human being he was. She had forgotten just how reliable he was till now, and how reassuring that could be. “Let's get out of here.” She smiled at Charles. “And I don't mind your sleeping on the floor in the same room, or I will. I can share a cot with one of the girls, and you can have the bed.”

“We'll figure that out when we get there. Gather up your things. We'll need to find a cab outside, which may take a while.” There was no public transportation, and many of the garages that housed New York taxis had been flooded, but there were a few on the streets. And traffic heading uptown, with many of the streets flooded downtown, was said to be ferocious. The news had said that getting from the devastation of lower Manhattan to the unaffected areas uptown could take as much as four hours, with streets blocked and flooded, no traffic lights, and power lines down.

Charles said a quiet goodbye to Ellen. He had given her his cell phone number for when their phones worked again. He told her to call him if he could do anything to help her, even after the storm. He had asked her if she wanted him to find a hotel room uptown for them too. Ellen asked her mother, but Grace was adamant that she wanted to stay downtown, even in the shelter, and move back into her apartment as soon as possible, whatever the damage. She was very firm about it, so Ellen thanked him and said no.

They kissed the children goodbye, and both little girls kissed Blanche before they left. Ellen wished Gina luck, she would need it with Nigel, although she didn't say that. And she and Charles hugged.

“Take care of yourself, Ellen,” he said, looking moved, and sorry to leave her and her mother at the shelter.

“You too,” she said, thinking how strange it was that they had become friends on a turbulent flight from London and now in the hurricane in New York. Crises of this magnitude brought people together as nothing else could.

It seemed lonely at the shelter to Ellen once Charles and his family had left, and her mother commented on Nigel's appalling behavior.

“It's amazing the foolish choices we make in life, some of us anyway. Her ex-husband seems like such a good man. The boyfriend is sexy, but he doesn't give a damn about her,” Grace said wisely, and Ellen concurred.

“I think she saw that too. But I think Charles is a little too square for her. She's a beautiful girl, she's ten years younger than he is, and he seems like kind of a traditional businessman. The poor guy was terrified on the flight from London. Nigel is gutsier and more masculine in a sexy way, but he clearly never gave a thought to her or the girls.” Ellen had been shocked and could say it now.

“The more traditional choices last a lot longer, but they're always less exciting,” Grace said philosophically. It was what Ellen had figured when she married George. There was no one more conservative or classically British. She had had her share of racy, irresponsible boyfriends, but George was the kind of man one married, even if she had had to adapt to his ways. It had been an adjustment for her at first, and he wanted everything done his way, but she had accepted that as part of being married to him, and she loved how solid and dependable he was.

It was still surprising to her how different the British and Americans were. The differences between them were vast, but she had come to like their ways. And they were always loyal to their own, and now she was one of them. She wanted to introduce Charles to George when they went back to London—she was sure they would like each other, and were very much alike in some ways. Solid, traditional men with conservative values, who believed in the right things.

The afternoon dragged as they watched the same images on the news over and over. Flooded streets in Tribeca, Red Hook destroyed in Brooklyn, Staten Island less decimated than the last time due to safety features they had put in place, New Jersey a scene of mass destruction, Coney Island leveled yet again, the Rockaways as vulnerable as before with the loss of many homes, and the East River and Hudson having flooded everything on their shores. It was tiresome and depressing watching it, and Grace took Blanche for a walk to get some air. She had just joined Ellen again when they both saw a tall man wend his way through the crowd toward them. It was Bob Wells, Grace's neighbor, and he was clearly looking for them. He gave Grace a warm hug when he reached her, and she was thrilled to see him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with a look of surprise. It was a miracle that he had found them but he had been looking for hours. He was wearing rubber fishing boots that he said his agent had lent him, and rough clothes, but he was a sight for sore eyes in the noise and chaos of the shelter that had become their temporary home, along with a thousand others.

“I can't get through on your cell phone,” he said simply. “They said on the news a little while ago that the police are letting people through in some parts of Zone 1, among them Tribeca—not to move back in but to assess the damage in their homes, retrieve documents, and salvage what they can. Some buildings are still too flooded to enter, or too dangerous if walls collapsed, but in some cases, they're letting residents go in. I want to give it a try, and I wanted to know if there's anything you want me to bring back to you.” It was a kind offer and nice of him to stop by on his way. He had rented a large, solid SUV, and Grace gave him a grateful look.

“I'll go with you,” she said quietly.

“I don't think you should,” he said respectfully, glancing at Ellen, and she agreed. “It's pretty rough, Grace, worse than last time. The water level is higher in some places, and the sewer lines have broken again.” The last time he and Grace had both found open sewage in their apartments when they went back, it had seeped into everything, and the stench had been sickening. He wanted to spare her that, and the shock of what they would see. But Grace refused to be convinced to stay at the shelter, while he went back to their building to observe the damage and salvage whatever he could.

“If they're letting people back into some buildings,” which they hadn't heard yet, “I'm going, with or without you, Bob, even if I have to walk.” Grace wasn't a woman to be daunted, by natural disasters or anything else, no matter how tired she looked, and her red hair, the fiery color it always had been, was a tangled mass, and she looked as big a mess as everyone else. Bob was neater and cleaner, staying in the comfort of his agent's apartment uptown, and there was no way he would let Grace go to their building alone. He wanted to be there to help.

“You're sure?”

“Of course.” She gathered up her things before he or Ellen could stop her, and looked like a soldier ready to march, as she clutched Blanche and put her back in the harness she'd worn. Bob smiled at her. He had always liked her, and had strong feelings of affection for her now.

“You realize it will probably be pretty bad. Prepare yourself for a shock, Grace.”

“I will,” she said, as they followed him out. They had decided to take their belongings with them, so they weren't stolen while they were gone. It was much like staying at a homeless shelter, where the people might be good or bad.

He had left the SUV he had rented double-parked with the lights flashing, and he helped Grace get into the high vehicle, for the ride to their building. The roads were so blocked by police lines, deep water, overturned cars, and debris that it took them an hour to travel the short distance to their building, and it was after four o'clock when they got to their block and were stopped by police. Bob explained that they lived in a building just down the street. He showed them the address on his driver's license as proof. The police were keeping out journalists and the curious, and all three of them noticed two ambulances with firemen around them, which meant that they had removed bodies from the street. It was a sobering scene.

“We just want to go in to get a few things, officer. Some important documents we left behind and will need.” The young policeman hesitated, nodded, and waved them through. He was wearing heavy rubber boots himself, and there was evidence of sewage in the street even before they got to the building. Ellen tried not to be sickened by what she saw, so she could be fully functional and helpful to her mother when they arrived. This was not a scene for sissies—she knew she had to be strong. And her mother was, with her face set in hard lines, looking straight ahead as they drove past the policemen to her building, parked the car among the debris outside, and got out. Everywhere they looked were broken objects, shattered glass, overturned trees and shrubs on the sidewalk, and unrecognizable objects that the floods had carried along. There was a crane hanging crazily at the end of the street, and the area had been roped off. And all three of them were careful not to step on any electric lines—it was impossible to say which were live wires. Nothing was safe or secure right now.

When they got to the entrance of the building, the familiar superintendent was standing outside with a devastated expression. He explained that one of their favorite doormen had died, drowned in the basement, and his body had just been removed. They sobered further at the news, as they entered the darkened lobby and made their way past a crumbling wall. All the lobby furniture had disappeared and had floated into the street the night before. It brought back instant memories for Grace and Ellen of their exit from the building in water past their waists. There were still several inches of water, to their ankles, as they walked to the apartment, and Grace took out her keys, while Ellen held her breath, and Bob stood with them to lend his full support. There was a short flight of stairs up to the apartment, so Ellen assumed the water would have receded, but there was still a foot of it inside. And once they opened the door, they waded through it between furniture that had been moved and overturned, couches and chairs that had become sponges for sewage and floodwater. The smell was evil and the destruction downstairs complete despite the pieces carefully wrapped in plastic, which had been torn off by the force of the floodwater. The apartment was dark with no electricity, and the three of them made their way upstairs, where broken windows had allowed the water to enter freely, but most of what they had put away upstairs was safe, except for the beds, which had turned into sponges as well, and all of Grace's coats and furs were soaking wet. Most of the clothes in the closets looked like they could be saved, and the paintings high up on the walls were intact, but objects were found helter-skelter in every room. Some had even been transported downstairs, and most of what they saw looked unsalvageable. It was easy to believe that Grace could have drowned if she'd stayed there, particularly alone. Tears rolled silently down her face as she observed the scene, and touched favorite objects like people who had died. It was heartrending, and Bob and Ellen cried with her, as even Blanche hung silently in the little harness on Grace's chest. For several moments Grace said not a word.

“I think it might be worse this time,” she said simply, and Bob agreed. It was an overwhelming feeling of helplessness to see almost everything you owned upended and destroyed. Ellen suspected that like the last time, some favorite objects could be saved, with diligent restoration work, but it wouldn't be easy. And most of what she owned was gone. Grace had always been a big believer in insurance, so Ellen knew that once again her insurance company would help, and they had been wonderful the time before. But there would be treasures and things of sentimental value that could never be replaced. And it would be hard to start all over again, and would take enormous energy and courage.

Ellen hated what she saw around her for her mother's sake, and knew how long it would take to restore and rebuild the apartment, repair what could be fixed, and replace so many things, and she'd have to find someplace else to live in the meantime for several months.

“Well, it won't be easy,” Grace said, drying her eyes, as she unconsciously patted the dog, “but we'll get there.” She smiled weakly at Bob and her daughter. It was sad to see all that she had lost, and then they went next door to Bob's, and it was even worse. Since his furniture wasn't of great value, he had done less to protect it, and almost everything in his apartment had been demolished. He had left his clothes in the closets downstairs, and they were a sopping mess, and almost everything in the apartment looked unsalvageable. Only some of his books and manuscripts on a high shelf upstairs were intact. Nearly everything else in his apartment looked like it belonged in a Dumpster. Both Grace and Ellen knew from the aftermath of Sandy that there were companies that restored nearly everything. Special book restorers who froze volumes while still wet, then dried them page by page. Remarkable furniture restorers. Others who handled furs, although all of Grace's had been irretrievable before. Dry cleaners who worked on leathers and fine fabrics. Her insurance company had helped Grace with all of it before, and it had taken months for the final results, but looking at the contents of Bob's apartment, it was hard to believe that any of it could be saved, and there was the same stench of sewage as at Grace's, and his living room walls were so saturated that they looked as though they might come down. There was little they could do now. They would have to do triage to figure out what had to be thrown away, and what should be sent to restorers, which was minute, meticulous, time-consuming work that would take months and cost the insurance company a fortune. Ellen had helped her mother with it before and would again, and Grace looked at Bob and patted his arm.