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Show Twisters . . . 103 Thank goodness for insurance money and the promise of government loans! The new house could be built squarely on the foundation Of the original one, and Mom would get to choose all her favorite colors when it came time to decorate. Aunt Goldie was one of the few who decided not to rebuild. She was still so spacey from her tornado experience that she preferred getting an apartment closer to town where there were lots of people around. That was okay with Arthur and me. It was a great consolation, knowing those craft classes had gone with the wind. Though we didn't know it for several days, Aunt Goldie had sure enough been among the unlucky ones trapped at Meves Bowl the night of the twisters. Except for hiding in the ladies' room with the others when the huge steel beams tore loose, she couldn't remember much of anything. Two days later, she came to herself in a motel in Omaha-without her purse, a change of clothes, her toothbrush or anything. She tried then to get a message to us, but went to pieces again when a telephone operator told her Grand Island had been "sealed off" to the outside world. Naturally, Mom had been beside herself with worry all that time. Though we'd alerted police and rescue people, there was no way of knowing in all the confusion if anyone was really looking for missing persons. It was Friday of that week when a Red Cross lady drove Aunt Goldie out to the farm. None of us asked questions. Not then. She was too shaky and confused and we were too glad to see her. Grandma Hatch just made up another bed on the couch and Aunt Goldie joined our temporary household by sleeping straight through twenty-four hours. Later, when her memory improved somewhat, Goldie told us she vaguely remembered fleeing from Meves with a trucker who had headed his rig |