No Judgments
Page 19
I was still trying to absorb the bombshell he’d just dropped on me. “Did you say you have eight cockatiels?”
“Yeah, eight of them. I left ’em plenty of food and water, but if the power is out I imagine it’s getting really hot in that attic. Cockatiels are sensitive to heat. Do you think you could go over there and check on them? I rent a room at 804 Roosevelt. There’s a key under the welcome mat in front of the door. I’m in room three. You shouldn’t have any problem getting in.”
“Um . . . okay.”
“I can’t thank you enough, ma’am, this is real nice of you. Also, I know a bunch of other people from the college who can’t get back to their pets, either. Would you mind if I gave you their names?”
I hesitated with my pen poised over the HOME notepad. “A bunch of other people who left their pets behind?”
“Well, yes, ma’am, I know it sounds bad, but we’re students so it wasn’t like we could afford hotel rooms or anything. We’re all staying at this one girl’s grandma’s condo in Boca, but her grandma said we couldn’t bring pets on account of she’s allergic to animal dander. We thought it would be okay to leave our animals behind because we’d only be gone a little while. We didn’t know the bridge was going to—”
I cut him off, as I could sense a growing hysteria in his voice. “It’s okay. I’m not judging you. I know you love your pets.”
“We do, ma’am.” I could hear tears in his voice now. “We do love our pets. My ’tiels are my life. I thought I’d be right back, but then when I tried to drive back this morning, the sheriff—”
“It’s okay,” I repeated gently. “Just give me your friends’ addresses and . . . uh, well, I guess what kind of pets they have, and how I can get into their homes, and if they have spare keys under the mat, like you do, or any other way I might be able to get into their place.”
Chett happily obliged. By the time he was finished, I had filled a whole page of the HOME notepad.
I also had writer’s cramp.
“So will you call us?” he asked eagerly. “Will you call us and let us know how it goes? Because I’m real worried about my birds. They’re just the sweetest things.”
“I’ll call you, Chett,” I said. “Don’t worry.”
All I could think about was how much gas all of this was going to take. Ed was going to kill me.
But since Ed was also an animal lover, I knew he’d be happy to donate to the cause.
Probably.
Speaking of which, I knew I had one last—and much more difficult—call to make. Which I did as soon as I’d hung up with Chett, finally dialing the number I’d been avoiding for so long.
“Mom?” I asked when she picked up.
She sounded like her usual self—her voice throaty from all the cigarettes she’d smoked before I was born, and still occasionally sneaked in times of stress. “Sabrina, finally. You don’t know what I’ve been going through these past twenty-four hours, not knowing whether you were dead or alive.”
“Mom, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since the storm hit.”
“You know what I mean. Where are you? Who are these people you’re staying with? How are they treating you?”
“They were treating me just fine until you had to go and call the governor and make him send the sheriff over here and blow my cover. No one here knew I was your daughter until then.”
“Why? What do you mean? Oh my God, Bree.” She lowered her voice. “Have you been kidnapped? Are they listening in? Just say yes or no.”
“Mom, no, don’t be ridiculous. It’s the opposite, in fact.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that unlike you, Mother, I wasn’t asking for special treatment. But now my hostess has moved all my stuff into her best guest room. She’s practically falling over herself to be nice to me. Not that she wasn’t nice before, but now I’ve got an en suite bathroom all to myself . . . and my cat.”
“Well, what’s wrong with that?”
“Mom, don’t you get it? I want people to like me for me, not because I’m Judge Justine’s daughter.”
“People do like you for you, Sabrina. You’re a kind, smart, pretty girl. And if my being who I am happens to help . . . well, what’s so wrong with that? Why, those people ought to show a little gratitude to you. It’s because of me that the longest runway at the Little Bridge airport is going to be cleared as soon as tomorrow.”
It took a second for that to register. “What?”
“That’s right. The governor has promised that even if they can’t get anything else done, that, at least, will be finished as a special favor to me, and your uncle Steen swears he’s going to have a plane there ready to pick you up—”
“Mom.” I cringed. “No. I don’t want that. I mean, yes, the runway is nice, the people here need it. But do not send a plane for me.”
“Sabrina, have you lost your mind? The governor says they don’t expect to have that bridge fixed or power or cell service up and running there for at least another week!”
“I know, Mom, but I’ve got everything I need.”
“Sabrina, don’t be ridiculous. The governor tells me there isn’t a functioning hospital down there for a hundred miles. What if something should happen to you? You could step on a nail and get lockjaw, or something. No, it’s simply too dangerous. Steen and I are coming down there as soon as the runway is cleared, and that’s all there is to it.”
I felt as if someone had poured a cold beer down my back. “Mom, no. Do not come here.”
“Well, someone has to, honey. If you don’t have the common sense to get out of there, then—”
“Mom. You can clear all the runways you want—I’m sure everyone will appreciate it. But I’m not leaving.”
“Sabrina. Look. I understand that you’re still angry about your father and me not telling you about your donor mother. And you have a right to be. But haven’t you punished me enough? Isn’t it about time that you let that go? This is a very dangerous situation, and—”
“I know it is, Mom. And I swear to you that my not wanting to leave yet has nothing to do with you not telling me about my donor mother.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No, of course not. I’m not even angry with you about that anymore. I’m mad that you didn’t believe me about Kyle—”
“Oh, honey, I told you, I believed you. I just think you overreacted. You know, I was at a Christmas party once with the president of AMC Radio, and you wouldn’t believe where he put his—”
“Mom, I’m sorry, but I don’t want to talk about any of that right now. I actually do need your help. Just not the kind of help you’re offering.”
“Well, what kind of help do you need, then?”
“I need you to go online—since I can’t, because we don’t have the Internet—and post a message to every social media outlet that you can think of that anyone who’s evacuated from Little Bridge Island and left a pet behind needs to contact your office. Tell them to call your office and leave their name, address, type of pet, the pet’s needs, and a way we can get into their home. Make sure they don’t post this information online—they have to leave it verbally with whoever picks up at your office when they call. If there really are looters, we don’t want them knowing which houses are sitting empty and how to break into them. These people have to feel that their private information is safe with you. Then I’ll call you back in a little while to get the data you’ve collected, and we can go from there.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. I waited tensely until finally my mother said, “Sabrina. What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about all the people from this island who evacuated and left their pets behind and now can’t get back to them because the bridge is out. You need to help me reach them before all their pets die.”
“Sabrina.” My mother’s voice was tight. She sounded furious. “That is ridiculous.”
“What? Why is it ridiculous?”
“Because if I don’t they’ll die, Mom. And anyway, things happen. Don’t they? Like people panic and evacuate and then the bridge blows out and they can’t get back to their homes. And parents use a donor egg to have a baby and then never tell the kid, but eventually the kid finds out anyway. Do you think maybe we shouldn’t judge people so harshly for their poor decisions?”
My mom made a croaking noise. “Sabrina—”
“Most of these people were just scared, Mom. Most of them were just doing the best they could. Many of them were only thinking of their children or their family or friends. Let’s try to help them without judging them. Okay?”
“But . . . I just don’t understand. It seems like so much work. Why do you have to be the one to do it?”
I sighed. Sometimes I felt like I was never going to understand my mother, and she was never going to understand me. But that didn’t mean I didn’t love her.
“Because,” I said, “I’m here. And I’m not doing anything else. And I’m your daughter, and you have millions of followers on your social media. They, in turn, will spread the word to other people on social media, until it finally gets to the actual evacuees from Little Bridge who we’re offering this service to. And then we’ll be able to save these animals, and also prevent a possible potential health hazard. Okay? Can you just have someone do this, please? It would mean a lot to me, and I actually think it might do wonders for your reputation. It could even win you some new fans.”
“Sabrina.” My mom’s voice sounded choked. “I—”
“Mom. Could you just do it? Will you do this one thing your daughter is asking you to do?”
There was silence again over the phone. And then finally my mother said, quietly, “Yes. Yes, Sabrina, of course. Tell me again what it is you want me to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The Little Bridge Electric Company continues to make progress bringing power back to its customers. Some homes have experienced saltwater intrusion and won’t be able to accept power until repairs are made. Progress will be slower in the hardest-hit areas where transmission poles were lost.
I explained it again.
“And remember,” I added when I was done. “It’s important that they don’t feel judged for having left their pets behind. If they do, they won’t call in. We want to save as many animals as we can, so the why of how it happened isn’t important.”
“I got it,” my mother said. “No judgments.”
“No judgments.” I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Will you do it today? Like right now, when you hang up?”
“I’ll call Shawna right now and have her do it.” Shawna was my mother’s longtime—and long-suffering—assistant. “And, honey—”
“Yes, Mom?”
“I . . . I like you like this.”
“Like what?”
“So . . . passionate.”
“What?”
“It’s true. You haven’t seemed actually to care about anything since . . . well, in a long time.” She tactfully avoided mentioning Caleb’s—and Kyle’s—name. “Except running away. You cared about that.”
I smiled wryly. “Thanks, Mom.”
“But now for the first time in quite a while you seem to care about something else . . . helping others, which, if I remember correctly, was why you went to law school in the first place—”
“Mom,” I said in a warning voice. “Don’t get your hopes up. I’m not going back to law school.”
“I know, I know. I’m just saying, at least you’re doing something that you feel passionate about, and not just wasting your time waitressing—”
Someday, I really needed to tell her about my paintings. But this was not the day.
“—even if I’m not very happy about where you’re doing it. Did you know that most deaths from hurricanes occur after the storm has passed?”
“I do know that, Mom,” I said. “Thanks. That’s why I really appreciate whatever help you can—”
“Sabrina.”
I looked up at the sound of the deep voice calling my name to see Drew Hartwell leaning against the door frame to the library. As always, he looked good. Good enough to make my heart give a flip inside my chest. He’d found a new clean linen shirt—did he keep a collection of these in every place he’d ever lived?—though he’d buttoned it as haphazardly as all the others, revealing far more tanned chest and abdominal muscles than should be legal.
In one hand he held the bowl of hurricane dip I’d made. Beneath his arm was tucked a bag of chips.
But on his handsome face was an expression of urgency.
I could not imagine what kind of chip-oriented emergency necessitated my getting off the phone, but his raised eyebrows and frown seemed to indicate that there was one.
“Uh, Mom,” I said, “I have to go. This is the only phone line in the house, and I think someone else needs to use it.”
“Oh, of course, honey. But I want you to know that I’m still coming tomorrow, or at least as soon as they can get that runway cleared.”
“Uh-huh,” I said, as Drew rolled a chip in the air, indicating that I needed to speed up the conversation. “Okay. Bye-bye now.”
“Can I use this number to call you back, if I need to?”
“Better let me call you.” A picture of my mom calling and Ed answering the phone entered my head. The vision was not pretty. “Bye, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you, too, sweetie . . .”
“What?” I demanded of Drew as I slammed down the phone. The fact that the mere sight of his lean body, lounging in the doorway, had caused my heart to do jumping jacks inside my chest was making me angry. I was an adult woman who should not be ruled by her hormones.
“Oh, nothing.” He lowered the chip he’d been using to direct the speed of my conversation into the bowl of dip, then put it into his mouth. “I could tell you needed rescuing, is all.”
I glared at him. “I did not need rescuing. I never need rescuing.”
“Oh, really? ‘Don’t get your hopes up, I’m not going back to law school’? That was part of a normal, happy, everyday conversation—”
I held up a hand to stop him from continuing. “That was my mother. I was calling to let her know I’m all right.”
“And the first thing she wanted to know is when you’re going back to law school?”
“It wasn’t the first thing she wanted to know. But yes, as you’ve probably guessed, my mother can be a little controlling. Speaking of which, do you always go around snooping on other people’s phone calls?”
“When they’re yours, I do.” He dunked another chip into the dip, then ate it. “How else am I going to find out anything about you? For a woman, you aren’t exactly communicative, you know. For instance, when were you going to tell me that you went to law school?”
I stood up. “Never, because it’s none of your business.”
“Ouch, Fresh Water!” He grabbed his chest as if wounded. “That hurts. After all we’ve been through together?”
“See, that’s the thing.” I crossed the room until I was standing directly in front of him. “You keep calling me Fresh Water like you think I’m so innocent.” Reaching into the bag of chips he was holding beneath his arm, I purposefully let my hand brush against the tender and sensitive skin of his inner bicep while keeping my gaze locked on his. “But I’m not, you know.”
“Oh, you’re not?” His tone was teasing . . . but I was standing close enough that I heard his quick inhale at my touch.
“No.” I plunged the chip I’d grabbed into the bowl he was holding, then raised it deliberately to my lips. “See this dip?”
His gaze was on the chip, which meant it was on my lips, since I was holding the chip in front of my lips. “Yeah.”
“I made it.” I slid the chip into my mouth, enjoying the explosion of flavor on
my tongue, and chewed. “Pretty good for an alleged Fresh Water, huh?”
He couldn’t seem to look away from my lips. “I’ll admit I’m impressed.”
What was I doing? First those kisses, now this. I needed to stay away from this guy.
On the other hand, by tomorrow my mother would probably be in town, and the sweet little temporary life I’d built in Little Bridge might be destroyed, much more thoroughly than by any hurricane. Maybe I needed to enjoy what was left of it while I still could.
“I know,” I said. “It’s a shame I have to go now.” I watched as his gaze flicked from my mouth back up to my eyes in surprise.
“Go? Go where?”
“I have to go check on eight cockatiels, two dogs, seven cats, and a tortoise.”
“Excuse me?”
“Do you have a hatchet I could borrow, by the way? One of the people who’s asked me to look in on his pets thinks the only way I’ll be able to get into his house is with a hatchet.”
Drew’s lips flattened into a grim line. He set the chips and dip down firmly on a nearby table. “If you think I’m going to let you go off by yourself on another pet rescue mission—”
I narrowed my eyes. “Let me?”
“We’re supposed to be heading over to the café to help Ed. He’s making a free hot meal for anyone who stops by. That’s the real reason I came in here. Aunt Lucy told me to come get you. Or rather, now that she knows who your mother is, she told me to ask if you’d be willing to help out.”
I smiled at that. “Well, as much as I’d love to, that’s going to have to wait a bit. You won’t believe how many residents of this island evacuated and left their pets behind. Now that they can’t get back, someone has to go take care of them.”
Drew was still frowning. “Unfortunately, I can believe it. I grew up on this island. But I don’t see why the person who has to go take care of them has to be you.”