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She heard them now, too. “Yep. I am sorry my music was so loud.”

Piper called for Brownie and pulled on slides.

She stared at my feet. “You better get shoes on. In case we get hit. Also, grab a helmet.”

Piper pulled one on and led me across the pool deck. I wanted to laugh, but assumed she was the expert. We landed in the basement in our home theatre and posted up on one of the couches.

“Why a helmet?” I asked, pulling mine on.

“Dad made me wear one. It’s dorky,” Piper said. “But he was right. Things got really bad. I’m always going to wear one now.”

“Well, okay,” I said. “Crazy, but… I trust you all to know.”

The wind picked up. Piper nervously closed the upstairs door. She sat by me, practically clinging. I turned on the weather to make us feel better and distract us. The Cubs moved everyone from Wrigley Field, leaving behind a massive, chaotic mess in Wrigleyville.

“It’s probably nothing,” I tried comforting her. “I am sure we’re going to be fine, but it’s good to be prepared.”

“What if… what if I lose everything again? What if I lose all my clothes? You know the only reason we have anything is that my show clothes were in the basement and my fall clothes were too. Somehow those boxes weren’t hit. It’s awful. Dad lost everything except his suit and show clothes. I worry for us. And I never got to go to Germany! And is Dad safe?”

“Where was he?” I asked.

“He’s way down there,” she answered. “Meeting with the builder.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, then he’s fine. Anyone out of Lake and North Cook is fine. He will be okay, sweetheart.”

“And the horses?”

“They are resilient and will be, too,” I promised, hoping there was no way we’d get hit twice in one year with an F-4. “Statistically speaking, there was only one or two F-4s in a decade in the entire U.S., right? And there hadn’t been one here in fifty years. I don’t think there have ever been back-to-back tornadoes like this, Piper. We’re going to be okay.”

Tearfully, she said, “I just want my dad. I need him here. I’m so scared!”

She buried her head in my chest, her helmet nudging my chin, and kept crying. Outside, I heard hail. I watched the weather broadcast and prayed we’d be okay. I thought of my own parents in Winnetka and hoped they fared well. I texted my mom:

ME

Are you safe?

MOM

We’re in the basement. Your father is paranoid.

ME

Good. It’s getting bad up here. I am, too

And then, as the power cut, I turned my phone off for the foreseeable future to save battery. It was dark as could be. The only thing heard above the pounding of hail and wind was Piper’s terrified sobs. I held her close, trying to be a place of refuge knowing nothing would ever replace her dad. I wanted mine, too.

* * *

COLE

I raced the storm, listening to the radio play-by-play. I called Piper endlessly, then tried getting Chloe on the phone. Neither answered. I hoped they weren’t ignoring the sirens and were hiding far beneath street level. A powerless feeling rolled over me as traffic slowed. Off towards the lake, I saw clouds of doom. That was the problem with this flat part of the world. As a child, I loved sitting on our porch watching big storms roll in with my grandfather. Now, I panicked worrying about the worst.

Once I flew off onto the exit ramp towards Chloe’s place, the signs of destruction played out. The scene went from dark to pitch black. The power was out everywhere and cops directed traffic. I pulled up to a huge stroad with traffic backed at a standstill. Several officers walked a row of cars asking questions.

“Where you headed?”

“Towards the park,” I answered. “I live there.”