It was the cadaver dogs that found Jennifer. Alive.
The whimpering toddler was clinging to a board jammed between two boulders.
Her parents were found yards away down the hill, buried under mud.
The dam break and its devastation killed five people that day. A community mourned, then rebuilt.
Now nine years old, Jennifer lives with Grandma and Grandpa in a ranch-style home nearby.
Grandma Laurel is troubled by the girl’s backyard interest in rocks, water — and mud. Jennifer had been told how her parents died.
“We could have a party and you could make some new friends,” she suggests.
“The rocks are my friends, Gramma.”
Jennifer’s outdoor play doesn’t worry Grandpa Tom. He remembers a childhood exploring creeks, catching crawdads and building rock dams. “No harm done. Leave the child be.”
But Laurel continues watching from the kitchen window. One afternoon, Jennifer tugs on her sleeve. “Gramma, come meet my rocks.”
She’d lined them up, all different shapes. Laurel recognizes some: granite, shale, pumice. Others seem, well, unusual to find in a backyard.
“See Gramma, these are my friends. They talk to me.”
“Sweetie, rocks can’t talk.”
“Mine do. And they have names. This is Luella and Horace and Eb…e…ne…zer,” Jennifer stumbles with pronunciation as she pats her friends.
“Those are old people names, Jennifer. Where did you hear them?”
“The rocks told me. They have old names because they’re old rocks.”
Jennifer shows Grandma a small stream she’d made. And the dam she’d created with rocks and branches.
Worried Laurel talks Tom into buying a backyard playset and invites the neighborhood children for a party. Jennifer enjoys herself, but the following day is back to her stream and rocks.
When she asks for a doll family of two small-size adults and a child, Grandma and Grandpa take her shopping. Finally, Laurel relaxes.
Until she sees the dolls atop the small dam Jennifer built. And is horrified.
“Jennifer, I want to talk with you about what happened to your Mommy and Daddy.”
“I know what happened, Gramma. The dam broke and the water turned into mud and killed them. But it won’t happen again. My friends will protect us.”
Laurel sits Jennifer on her lap. “How will they do that?
“They'll tell us when it’s going to rain next. And when the dam breaks again, and we have to leave.
“First, they’ll go ‘whoosh.’ Then they begin to rumble. After that the mud comes down.”
“Oh,” Laurel says, holding Jennifer tight as she tries not to tremble.
That evening Grandma goes online. After finding a structural engineer’s report on dam safety, she again checks the weather. Rain is forecast in a few days.
The next afternoon, a neighbor strolling by sees Laurel packing the family SUV and stops to chat.
“Are you folks going on a trip?”
“Probably. It’s up to Jennifer and our rocks.”
The whimpering toddler was clinging to a board jammed between two boulders.
Her parents were found yards away down the hill, buried under mud.
The dam break and its devastation killed five people that day. A community mourned, then rebuilt.
Now nine years old, Jennifer lives with Grandma and Grandpa in a ranch-style home nearby.
Grandma Laurel is troubled by the girl’s backyard interest in rocks, water — and mud. Jennifer had been told how her parents died.
“We could have a party and you could make some new friends,” she suggests.
“The rocks are my friends, Gramma.”
Jennifer’s outdoor play doesn’t worry Grandpa Tom. He remembers a childhood exploring creeks, catching crawdads and building rock dams. “No harm done. Leave the child be.”
But Laurel continues watching from the kitchen window. One afternoon, Jennifer tugs on her sleeve. “Gramma, come meet my rocks.”
She’d lined them up, all different shapes. Laurel recognizes some: granite, shale, pumice. Others seem, well, unusual to find in a backyard.
“See Gramma, these are my friends. They talk to me.”
“Sweetie, rocks can’t talk.”
“Mine do. And they have names. This is Luella and Horace and Eb…e…ne…zer,” Jennifer stumbles with pronunciation as she pats her friends.
“Those are old people names, Jennifer. Where did you hear them?”
“The rocks told me. They have old names because they’re old rocks.”
Jennifer shows Grandma a small stream she’d made. And the dam she’d created with rocks and branches.
Worried Laurel talks Tom into buying a backyard playset and invites the neighborhood children for a party. Jennifer enjoys herself, but the following day is back to her stream and rocks.
When she asks for a doll family of two small-size adults and a child, Grandma and Grandpa take her shopping. Finally, Laurel relaxes.
Until she sees the dolls atop the small dam Jennifer built. And is horrified.
“Jennifer, I want to talk with you about what happened to your Mommy and Daddy.”
“I know what happened, Gramma. The dam broke and the water turned into mud and killed them. But it won’t happen again. My friends will protect us.”
Laurel sits Jennifer on her lap. “How will they do that?
“They'll tell us when it’s going to rain next. And when the dam breaks again, and we have to leave.
“First, they’ll go ‘whoosh.’ Then they begin to rumble. After that the mud comes down.”
“Oh,” Laurel says, holding Jennifer tight as she tries not to tremble.
That evening Grandma goes online. After finding a structural engineer’s report on dam safety, she again checks the weather. Rain is forecast in a few days.
The next afternoon, a neighbor strolling by sees Laurel packing the family SUV and stops to chat.
“Are you folks going on a trip?”
“Probably. It’s up to Jennifer and our rocks.”
