The Glory of Green by Judy Christie Read Free Book Online Page B

imagine former Mayor Oscar Myers, elderly and set in his ways, handling this.
    "The wedding ceremony was lovely," Eva said, pulling a tissue from her pocket. She wiped her eyes and straightened her hair. "I have to get back to work. Your staff can use that desk in the back there."

    Tom was dead.
    Big, sloppy, wordaholic Tom, who loved crossword puzzles and books and edited copy as though he worked on the biggest newspaper in the country, who coached Katy so she could become a true reporter, who led our editorial crusades and cared as passionately about The Green News-Item as he had when he walked in the door forty-one years ago.
    "This newspaper is here to stay," he'd proclaimed in a loud voice a few months ago. "No Internet or cable television will kill it. Only lazy journalists will be able to do that."
    Likely the paper had killed him, coming to spread the news to his coworkers, even though he was not feeling well and didn't like to drive at night. My heart ached at the thought of telling Katy and the others, but I didn't want them to hear it from anyone else.
    I glanced at the big clock on the wall over the map, frozen at seven forty-eight when the power went off. I looked down at my watch and held it up to my ear.
    "It hasn't stopped," Hank said, walking up with a clipboard."It really is only nine twenty-five."
    "It feels like a time warp," I said.
    His walkie-talkie squawked, and he stepped away, listening, his expression more stern by the moment. "I have to get back out there, Lois."
    "Can I get quotes and an update from you first?"
    He nodded and sighed deeply. "Two more confirmed dead."
    "God help us," I said, half in anger, half in prayer.
    "I don't have names on the others. I'll keep you posted."
    "If you see Chris, will you tell him I'm OK?"
    "Sure thing," he said. "Congratulations, again."

    I tried my cell phone again. Nothing. Would it be better to stay at the command center or go back to the paper?
    The mayor had mentioned satellite service, so this could be a good place to set up shop and stay up on breaking news developments. The metal desk in the corner would be a serviceable news center for a while, but how could we coordinate coverage without better phone service? I longed for electricity and our little newsroom, Tom at the center, laying out pages, conversation whirling around me as we struggled to find enough news to fill the paper.
    Even in this room surrounded by people I knew, I felt lost and alone.
    For the next ten minutes, I resorted to doing what I do best—gathering information and piecing together a short article. Law enforcement personnel came and went, including volunteers who regularly helped on fire calls and with routine police matters. With each new person, a look of dread mixed with the need to know washed over faces, sick-looking under the fluorescent light of the basement room. The headquarters already smelled stale and felt stuffy.
    Bud, the agriculture columnist, came in wearing his polyester Green Auxiliary Police uniform, what Katy liked to call his GAP outfit. Before I could reach him, a half dozen people mobbed him for news from the world outside.
    He stopped speaking when he noticed me. His back was stiff, and I thought he was too old to be out this late, helping with such a tragedy.
    "Tom handled my copy every week for more than thirty years," he said. "We've lost a good man."
    I pulled out my notebook and pen. "Will you give your thoughts for the paper?" I asked, trying to hold back tears. "I want to post his obituary as soon as possible."
    "First, I need to update the mayor with word from the police chief," he said. I followed as he walked over to Eva and pointed to the map. She picked up several small pins with blue heads and began to push them into neighborhoods.
    I now understood what the words deathly quiet meant.Everyone in the room paused to watch. As Bud referred to notes, Eva pushed another pin into the map, then another.
    "Friends," Eva said, while Bud folded up the