John and Linnea strapped their surfboards on the roof of his truck and were headed back home when they met up with the bumper-to-bumper traffic on Palm Boulevard heading toward the Connector for points north. Since most of the tourists had already left at the first whiff of the storm’s approach, all the cars were likely local residents. John turned on the radio.
“I wonder if they called mandatory evacuation,” Linnea said, feeling the age-old chill run down her spine. “Lord, we’d better get back. Cara must be frantic.”
John was looking at the weather alert on his phone. “The current cone of travel has Irma heading up the coast. I heard from Ethan that the governor called for mandatory evacuation for barrier islands south of us. So far, Isle of Palms seems to be dodging the bullet, at least for a head-on collision. But the storm’s still coming so he’s racing back to the aquarium. They have a mammoth job ahead of them getting the place battened down.”
Linnea felt herself shrink inside, like a turtle seeking safety.
They waited at the STOP sign for what seemed forever, but the train of cars kept coming.
“Won’t they let us in?” Linnea asked, exasperated and anxious.
John lowered the window and waved his hand. At last a Good Samaritan slowed to a stop and let him make his left turn onto Palm Boulevard. John waved his arm in thanks, pulled out, and hit the gas.
“It’s a good thing I postponed my flight,” he said with a shake of his head at the sight of the long line of cars on Palm Boulevard. “There’s no way it would have gotten out. They’re going to shut down the airports.”
“Is your mother all packed up?”
“Yeah. I got all the shutters up. We’re tight and secure,” he said with satisfaction. “But, damn, there’re a lot of frigging windows in that house. As soon as we get back I’ll get started on yours.”
“No worries. David and Bo said they were coming to finish the beach house for Cara today. Other than that, we got all the emergency supplies—we have food and water, and Cara’s packed her photographs, important papers, and insurance records. Our suitcases are by the door, ready to go.”
“When do you leave?” he asked.
“As soon as Cara does. I’m going home first. Daddy and Cooper are closing up the house and then we’re all meeting up at the lodge. We’ll be safe upstate. The worst we’ll get there is a lot of rain and mud. And you?”
“Mom and Flo made reservations at some hotel in Columbia. I’m guessing we’ll head out tonight.”
She reached over to put her hand on his knee. He swung his head to look at her, his eyes meeting hers.
“Do you want to come with me?” he asked.
He’d asked her several times to join him, as had Cara. “No, thanks, I want to be with my family.”
They pulled into John’s driveway and parked the truck. There was an anxious silence. Both of them were aware that they were going soon to different places, that it was the end of the summer, that John would leave for California in a few days, and that they didn’t know what the future held.
Linnea looked out the window and spotted Cara carrying a box to her red Volvo.
“I’d better go,” she said. She didn’t move.
John reached across the seat and took her hand. She looked over to him. His red-tinged hair was still wet, slicked back, and a drop of water trailed down his temple. She felt the energy pulsing in his green eyes.
“Linnea,” he began tentatively. He looked at their joined hands. “Regardless of what happens, whether we get clobbered with a Cat Five or we amble back home after dodging another hurricane, we both know I have to leave for California. Time’s run out, Linnea.” He looked up, his piercing gaze pinning her. “Are you joining me?”
Linnea puffed up her cheeks and blew out a plume of air. “Oh, Lord, John, don’t ask me now.”
“I’m not trying to pressure you,” he said with a gentle tug on her hand. “But I’ll say this one more time. You should go after that job in San Francisco. At least take the interview. It’s the best offer you’ve had. Plus, you know you have a place to stay.”
“I know. . . .”
“What are you afraid of?”
“I told you,” she said with emphasis. “Daddy will go nuclear that I’m running off to what he thinks is Sodom and Gomorrah without being . . .” She stopped. She couldn’t say the m word. “You know.”
“Married.”
The word dropped like a bomb. Linnea felt blown to bits, but only shrugged. “Yes. That’s what he wants for me.” She glared at him. “I didn’t say it’s what I wanted.”
John’s expression changed, and Linnea could see he was struggling.
“I care for you, Linnea,” he said. “A lot. You know that.”
She didn’t respond.
“But marriage is a big step,” he continued. “I don’t think either of us is ready for that.”
“I’m not.” She said it defiantly. Though in the most secret spot of her heart, her feminine pride was hurt that he didn’t at least offer to marry her.
“Come to California,” John told her. “See how you feel. Check out the job. You might not want it. So much is up in the air. No pun intended.”
She smirked.
“Let’s take it one day at a time.”
She looked at their hands, thinking of all he’d said, but couldn’t think of a thing to say. So she remained quiet.
“Lin,” he said, emotion sliding into his voice. “Look at me?”
She lifted her gaze. His eyes were pulsing with sincerity.
“I think we have something very special between us. Let’s give it a chance. See where it takes us. And who knows? We might end up coming back here.” He laughed shortly. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe,” she conceded, looking at their joined hands and trying not to smile.
John reached out to lift her chin. Reluctantly, she looked into his eyes. His green eyes . . . She’d fallen in love with his eyes first. She didn’t want to fall in love. Not yet. Why did he have to come along when she was least ready for him? He clearly wasn’t ready for her. Just go, she cried in her breaking heart.
“You’re my best friend. My surfing buddy. The first person I think of when I wake up and the last person before I sleep. I love you,” he said.
Linnea crumbled. Her defenses were destroyed. She knew what it took for him to utter those words. Her heart rallied and joyfully surrendered. She wasn’t ashamed of the tears that flooded her eyes.
He saw the tears and grinned. “Does that help?”
She stared back at him for a moment, making him wait. Then she lunged forward to wrap her arms around him. “Yes,” she said, kissing his neck, her tears mingling with the ocean’s salt water. She laughed out loud and looked into his face. “Took you long enough.”
“What?” he asked, incredulous. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever said that to. Other than my mother.”
Linnea softened and leaned back against the door, facing him. “Really?” she asked dubiously.
He looked sheepish, having said too much. “You know it’s true,” he said. “You’re driving me crazy, Linnea Rutledge. And I love you!” he said louder. “There. I said it again. So now, what do you say? Will you come to California?”
Linnea nodded and whispered, “Yes.” Then with a hearty groan she put her face in her hands. “Oh, God, now I have to tell my father.”
Chapter Twenty
All six sea turtle species found in U.S. waters or using U.S. beaches are designated as threatened or endangered under the Endangered Species Act. Endangered status means a species is considered in danger of extinction. Threatened means that a species is likely to become endangered. The ESA provides penalties for taking, harassing, or harming sea turtles and affords some protection for their habitat.
CARA LOOKED UP in the sky and saw the telltale thin, watery clouds stretching from the ocean toward the mainland. These were hurricane bands, and they looked like no other. To her, they re
sembled fingers reaching out in a menacing grasp, as though the storm were clawing its way inland. She felt an involuntary shudder and clasped her arms around herself.
David came up behind her and wrapped his long arms around her. Perspicacious as usual, she thought, and leaned back into his strength. She closed her eyes, relishing the safety she felt there, something she never thought she’d feel again.
“Don’t be nervous,” he told her. He leaned down and put his mouth by her face. She felt the faint scratch of stubble against her tender cheek. “The last shutter is in place. You’re all safe and secure.”
“Thank you,” she said with a weary exhale.
“Did I tell you how much I hate those aluminum shutters?”
“Twenty-two times,” she replied. “Once for every window.”
“You need to get roll-downs. Or replace your windows with hurricane glass. That’s what my house has. Makes hurricane season a breeze. Pun intended.”
“Oh, sure,” she replied, turning in his arms. “As soon as I win the lottery.” She looked over at her little house, all boarded up with the aluminum shutters at every window. It looked cold and dreary, not at all the welcoming beach house.
“I shouldn’t be so jittery,” she said, a bit embarrassed. “I’ve been through hurricanes all of my life. It’s part and parcel of living along the coast. Back in the day, we put plywood up on the windows.” She laughed. “If you think aluminum shutters are tough, try those. I still have slivers. I don’t remember my parents doing much for the house in Charleston. We may have moved furniture to the upper floors and taken mirrors off the wall, that kind of thing. Mostly we just hopped in the car and headed for the country. My daddy liked to say that’s what he had insurance for. For better or worse, Charleston’s endured a long history of hurricanes.”
“Maybe. But not a whole lot of Cat Fives.”
She sucked in her breath. “No,” she agreed. “The last big one was Hugo. And remember what that storm did.” She shuddered. “Every summer when the hurricane forecasts come out, we all shake our heads and say we’re due for another big one. It’s not if but when.” She looked at David, sought his understanding. “That kind of thinking takes its toll over time. The tension and fear . . .” She paused. “They slowly build up like a disease until, smack, one year hurricane season hits and you’re paralyzed and you realize that you have PTSD. That’s what I have. Really. Too many years of trauma from staying on this island and weathering storms.”
“Why did you stay and not evacuate?”
“Brett,” she answered succinctly. “He never left. Not ever for Category One hurricanes. He had his fleet of boats to take care of. That was his livelihood. They had to be battened down or moved to a different location. Every fall we lived listening to the weather reports round the clock. Even now, the TV is on, blaring the weather stations. The meteorologists all say the same thing over and over, but each time a bulletin is released we come running like it’s the first time we’ve heard it. I live in constant readiness to flee.”
“That’s how you’re supposed to feel. It’s not smart to get complacent.”
“Well, this time, I’m running,” she said emphatically. “I’ve got Hope to think about.”
“Right.” He narrowed his eyes. “Where are you headed?”
“To some hotel in Columbia. Emmi made the reservations. I’ve got it all written down inside.”
David put his hands on his hips. “Why go to a hotel? Come to my place in the mountains. It’s right outside of Asheville.”
Cara was taken aback. “You’ve never mentioned before that you have a house in Asheville.”
“It’s never come up till now.” Seeing her dubious reaction, he grinned and said, “For the sake of transparency, I have a house in Costa Rica, too. Look, it’s no big deal. Lots of folks from Charlotte have cabins in Asheville or a house near the lake. My wife loved the mountains, so we went there.” He rubbed his jaw. “I haven’t been in a while. I’m pretty content on Dewees. But Heather and Bo have gone up a few times this summer. She’s always loved it there, which is the main reason I hang on to it. They’re on their way now, as a matter of fact. With Rory.”
“That’s good. I’m glad they’ve left.” She rubbed her arms in anxiety. All this talk of evacuation was making her nervous.
“It’s a place you can go. Will you come? Bring Linnea, too.”
“But I’m supposed to meet Emmi and Flo.”
“Bring them, too.”
“Is there room for us all?”
“We’ll squeeze you in somehow. It’ll be better than a hotel.”
Cara put her fingertips to her forehead, gathering her thoughts. “Linnea is going home, so she won’t come. The family will go upstate to the hunting lodge. I was invited, of course, but . . .” She looked up and saw David standing like a mountain against the changing sky. He was offering her safe refuge.
And, she knew, so much more.
“Thank you. Yes. I’ll go with you.”
LINNEA WOKE WHEN her phone rang. She reached out to grab it, her first thought being not to awaken the baby. The house felt muggy, the air thick. She put the phone to her ear, noticing that the night was still black. Good news never came in the middle of the night.
“Hello?” Her voice was scratchy for lack of sleep.
“Linnea? It’s Mama.”
Linnea heard something in her mother’s voice that had her sitting bolt upright in the bed, clutching the phone. “What’s the matter, Mama?”
“It’s Cooper,” she said in a hoarse voice. Linnea heard the tears in it. “He’s in the hospital. MUSC.”
“What?” Linnea said on a breath. Her mind was spinning as fast as her heart rate. She envisioned a car accident. Broken glass. Blood. “Is he okay? What happened?”
“Yes. No . . .” She choked back a cry. “It was an overdose.”
It took a few moments for Linnea to take that in. “I’ll be right there.”
“Don’t come yet. They won’t let you see him. He’s still in treatment. It could be hours yet.”
She had thoughts of coma and brain damage. “How bad is he?”
“We don’t know yet. Oh, Linnea . . .”
“I’m on my way.”
LINNEA DRESSED QUICKLY, then hurried down the dark hall to waken Cara. She roused with a start, immediately on alert.
“What?” she said with alarm. “Is it Hope?”
“No, nothing like that.”
Linnea’s voice was shaky as she told her the news. Cara bolted from the bed.
“I can dress quickly. Would you get Hope ready?”
“You don’t have to come to the hospital.”
“But of course I’m going to the hospital.” In typical fashion, Cara began making quick decisions as her hands dug through her drawer. “We’ll caravan to the hospital,” she told Linnea. “We’ll go on to evacuate afterward. It’s good the cars are already packed up. Let’s just close up here and leave now. I’ll call David later and let him know what we will do once . . .” She paused to find the right words. “Once we know the situation.”
“Cara, wait.”
Cara stopped and turned toward her, underwear in hand. Her face was puzzled.
“It could be hours before they’ll even let us see Cooper. You can’t wait in the hospital with Hope that long.” Cara opened her mouth to argue, but Linnea pushed on. “Second, the storm is coming. You need to get out.”
“There’s time.”
“Cara, don’t wait. Go back to sleep and leave in the morning with David, as planned.”
“I can’t just leave y’all for North Carolina. You’re my family.”
“Hope is your family. Your child.”
Cara took a step closer to Linnea and put her hands on her shoulders, looking her directly in the eyes. “Linnea, you and Cooper have been my children all your lives. A natural mother couldn’t love you more. I’m going.”
Linnea stepped into Cara’s arms. “A daughter couldn’t love he
r mother more.”
THE NIGHT WAS as dark as pitch and so humid Linnea could hardly catch her breath. Not the moon, not a beam of light from the stars, could penetrate the heavy cloud cover over the lowcountry. The house next door was dark. John and his mother had left for Columbia with Flo. She suddenly missed John and wished he were with her now. She felt terribly alone in her little car.
Linnea followed the tiny red brake lights of Cara’s car as she drove over the murky blackness of the Connector. It was eerie, like driving into nothingness. Her hands gripped the steering wheel, and she counted the minutes.
The traffic was light at this hour and they made it to the hospital in good time. Though the parking lot was packed, many of the cars belonged to locals seeking high ground in case of flooding. Linnea circled the lot in search of a space, cursing. At last she found a spot that was debatably illegal, but she could just squeeze her Mini Cooper in.
She met Cara and Hope at the entrance. They raced through the halls to the emergency-room waiting area. The few people sitting in the chairs either looked sick or seemed to be waiting for news about someone who was sick. They sat with vacant stares or their heads resting in their palms.
Cara and Linnea went directly to the nurse sitting behind the wide, polished entrance desk, a heavyset woman with a cup of coffee by her side. When she glanced up, her cold eyes revealed that she had seen it all. She promptly directed them to a different waiting room. A security guard opened the door into a wide and long cream-colored hall branching off into a maze of other corridors. They walked in silence, their heels clicking on the polished floors. Linnea’s heart was pounding and she felt each step like she’d run a mile. At last they pushed through a set of heavy doors into a second waiting room. Linnea immediately spotted her mother and father sitting in chairs some distance from each other, neither one speaking, staring into space.
“Mama!” Linnea began running.
“Linnea!”
Beach House Reunion Page 26
