I cupped her cheeks in my hands. “I. Will. Not. Leave. You. Not now. Not today. Not ever. I promise.”
“Because you love Daddy?” Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because I love you. I came all the way back—that’s how much I love you. I even made a policeman very mad to get to you. I won’t leave you, Fin. You’re the only reason I’m here.” I wiped her tears with my thumbs. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, and I pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“You wait right here with Juno. Promise.”
“I promise.”
The winds blew impossibly harder, and the rain fell in driving sheets as I took Vivian out of the house, dragging her by her armpits. “Hold onto the bag,” I ordered her, and she pulled Fin’s pets closer. Then I walked backward down the steps, dragging her along at an angle so that the two-by-four slid instead of thumped.
“Hold on!” I shouted once we made it to the bottom.
A trampoline flew by, flipping end-over-end down the road.
Don’t even think about it. Just keep moving.
I got the back door open, and with Vivian hopping, we managed to get her across the backseat. “Buckle up! I’m grabbing Fin!” I shut the door, which was no easy feat, even given the shelter from the garage.
I raced up the stairs and looked out over the neighborhood from the top of the deck. The surge was here. Water pushed in with each wave, and it had already overtaken the houses up the block.
The dune will protect your house. You can get there.
I threw open the door and held my arms out for Fin, silently thanking Jackson for buying her backpack carrier.
Fin rushed at me with obvious relief, and I lifted her into my arms. “Do you have your phone?”
She nodded. “But not my clothes. They’re upstairs.”
“We don’t need them. Okay, hold on tight, Fin. No matter what. Understand?” I locked one arm under her butt and clamped the other one around her back. Then I took the little girl I loved more than the world out into the storm.
She plastered her face against my neck as I made my way down the steps, careful not to slip. Everything was slick. I opened the driver’s door and lifted her inside. “Crawl over the console.”
She did it.
I climbed in and grunted as I hauled the door shut. It closed, thank God.
“I’m not allowed to ride in the front seat.” Fin looked at me with raised eyebrows.
“And without a booster, too.” I shrugged. “I’m hoping your dad will forgive me.” Wasn’t I just mother of the year? Or stepmother. Or quasi-not-quite-girlfriend-current-custody-haver. Whatever.
“Buckle up,” I ordered as I did the same. She put Juno’s carrier on the ground and buckled. Then I drove through the grass of Vivian’s front yard. “I’m sorry!”
“Don’t mention it,” she said from the backseat. Her voice was weak, and I knew that both bracing her broken leg and moving her down to the truck had taken what little strength she had left.
It was impossible to see. The rain drove straight at us. I memorized as much as I could between the squalls and crept carefully onto NC 12.
“Oh my word,” Vivian exclaimed from the backseat.
“What’s that?” Finley asked.
“Hold on,” I ordered, watching the huge shape fly toward us. The wind took it left, and I swerved right.
“I think that was a roof,” Vivian said softly.
I was too busy gulping for breaths to say anything.
We passed the bakery I loved, and the auto parts store as the wind and rain tore at us, pushing us the way it wanted us to go as I fought to keep us on the road. There was a lot more water now. But it looked like rainwater. There was no foam.
We turned onto Old Lighthouse Road, and I cringed. Here was the foam blowing in from the ocean in giant streaks of white between the huge beach houses. Sand had blown all over the road, making it hard to see the edges.
“Think of it as off-roading,” I told Finley as a powerful gust of wind pushed us close to the curb.
“Have you been off-roading a lot?” she questioned, looking out the side because she was too short to see over the dash.
“Actually, yes. In this very truck, as a matter of fact.” I gripped the wheel and forced our way through the sludge of water and sand. The houses drew closer to the shore, but I refused to look and see if the dunes held.
We were committed now. We’d either make it to my house or be swept away trying.
The houses ended, and we entered the tiny stretch of road that belonged to just Jackson and me. Without the other houses to shield us from the wind, we were exposed, and it took twice as much effort to keep us on the road.
Almost there, Jackson. We’re almost there.
I would have given anything to hear his voice through the speakers. To hear him tell me that I’d made the right choice in bringing them here.
We pulled into my driveway, and I nearly wept with relief. Until I saw the water cresting the dune, then breaching it. The waves came in time with my slamming heartbeats as the water carved a rivulet that quickly became a creek.
It would be an inlet in a matter of minutes.
I hit the gas, careful not to spin out, and took us toward my stairs. The wind was impossibly strong, and the water oozed forward, reaching my pilings. I parked with my side closest to the stairs.
“Okay, same thing, just in reverse, got it, Fin? You’re going in first, and then I’m bringing Grandma.”
She nodded solemnly, and I’d never been so glad that she was short. If she could see what we were walking out into, she would have sobbed like I wanted to.
The door wouldn’t budge.
The wind was too strong.
“You have got to be kidding me!” The water was coming in faster. There was no telling how long we had. We needed the height of the steps to get us all out safely.
Think, Morgan. Think.
Got it.
I drove forward, then turned us around in the middle of our yards, taking out a section of Jackson’s fence in the process. This time, I angled the truck close to forty-five degrees and threw it into park when Fin’s side was closest, pocketing the keys.
“Come here, Fin.” I lifted her through the backseat to stand in front of Vivian, then climbed into Fin’s seat. Bracing my back on the console, I placed my feet on either side of the handle, opened the door, and pushed with everything I had.
The wind did the rest.
The door whipped open unnaturally, slamming into the steel on the other side and destroying the hinges. Forgive me, Will.
Even with the relative shelter of the dune, the wind did its best to keep me inside the cab.
“Time to go, Fin!” I lifted her over the console, then stepped onto my stairs and held out my arms. “Close your eyes, baby!” Through the slats of the staircase, I saw water gush beneath us. The dune was going quickly.
Finley reached, and I gathered her tight. Her little legs wrapped around my waist as I took the steps one at a time, fighting for each and every one. I kept one hand on the railing and the other locked around Fin as we climbed.
My legs strained and burned with the effort it took to make it. Category three meant these winds were probably up over a hundred miles an hour by now, but I didn’t want to think about it.
We made it to the deck, and I struggled across the few feet that lacked a railing to make it to the alcove that sheltered my front door.
The scant amount of windbreak made all the difference, and with a twist of my key, we were inside. I lowered Finley to the ground. “Go wait in the armchair right there in the living room, okay? I’m getting Grandma Vivian.”
Her eyes seemed frozen in the widest position, and I thanked God that I’d closed the steel shutters. Otherwise she would have had double the reason to be terrified.
We were about to be surrounded by water.
“I will come right back. I promise. You are not alone.”
Fin nodded, and I raced for the door.
The wind knocked me on my ass as I ran for the deck, sweeping my feet clean out from underneath me.
“Damn it!” I shouted, already fighting to get to the staircase. I bumped down on my butt to give myself the smallest profile possible. The water was up to the rims on the truck, and Vivian’s back filled the front passenger doorway. “How did you get up here?” I shouted over the roar of the wind.
“I’m not helpless!” she yelled back over her shoulder, the beach bag safe in her lap.
I gripped under her arms and hoisted her from the truck, then began the long trek back into the house. By the time I reached the foyer, I was exhausted. My muscles shook with the effort it took to get Vivian to the couch, but I got her there.
Now to close the door.
“Juno!” Fin cried.
I turned, expecting to see the cat involved in something awful as usual, but Fin stared at me.
“She’s in the truck!” She sobbed. “I forgot her!”
“Okay,” I said, mostly to myself. “Okay.” I was not going to let her cat drown in a damned backpack.
I was more cautious this time crossing the rain-slick deck and made it to the truck as water crept up the rims. A quick glance behind me showed a canyon forming in the dune…and not just one. The ocean was coming.
I stepped into the truck and grabbed Juno, slinging her onto my back. Then I looked up. Will’s wings were still tacked to the visor, and my sea-glass pendant from Jackson dangled from the rearview mirror. I had time. I could get them.
The dune gave way behind me.
Wings or sea glass? There was only time for one. The water was coming.
Wings.
Sea glass.
Will.
Jackson.
I gripped the sea-glass pendant in my fist and yanked with all the strength I had in me, breaking the clasp on the chain. Then I lunged for the staircase.
Water soaked my shoes as it flowed through my stairs all the way to the third step, and I stumbled up a few steps higher to relative safety before I turned around.
The sea rushed into the cab through the open door, and I watched in horror as the truck rocked slowly toward the driver’s side. The next wave came—they were only seconds apart now—and swept the truck away with the torrent of water that now flew freely from the ocean.
“Good-bye, Will,” I whispered into the howling wind. Then I made my way up the stairs and into the house, shutting and locking the door behind me as the storm raged hungrily against the frame of the house.
“Juno!” Fin came rushing at me, and I slid the backpack down my arms and handed it to her.
She undid the top, and Juno scurried out and away with Finley trailing after her.
I took my cell phone from my pocket.
No bars. No service. The towers had to be down.
We made it, Jackson.
Then I collapsed against the wall of the foyer, just like I had the day Jackson told me he was deploying. How scared I’d been that I would bury him, when I’d just spent the better part of three hours taking every chance that he’d bury me.
I could have died and left it all unspoken—left him wondering how I really felt when I’d known along. Known and been too stubborn and scared to voice it. And for what? To protect my heart from the very pain I nearly caused him?
The house groaned as the ocean rushed beneath us. I’d rebuilt this house as I’d rebuilt my soul—strong enough to withstand the storm—but where I’d hurricane-proofed the frame so I could survive, I’d failed to rebuild my heart to live, and I desperately wanted to.
I wanted a life and a future.
I wanted kids and laughter and sleepless nights.
I wanted those things with Jackson.
I wanted Finley.
I wanted everything that came with loving both of them.
And the minute the cell service turned back on, I would tell him. I wouldn’t waste another day avoiding the things beyond my control, and instead I would grasp every chance at happiness that came along. I made my vow, held the sea-glass pendant to my forehead, then tucked Finley into my side and prayed we’d survive till morning.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Morgan
Was this how Noah felt the first time he cracked the door open on the ark? By noon the next day, the winds had died, the rain had ceased pummeling the windows, and I finally felt brave enough to raise the steel shutters.
I held my breath as the ocean came into view, still angry and white-capped.
“How bad is it?” Vivian asked as I opened the sliding glass door. The wind blustered, but it wasn’t a full-on assault.
“I’m about to find out.” I glanced from my cell phone, noting the lack of bars, to Finley, who sat at my dining room table, playing with my iPad.
The deck felt solid beneath my feet as I walked toward the railing, where my knees nearly gave out.
The dune was demolished.
So was Jackson’s house.
My hand flew to my mouth when I saw the devastation. The pilings had completely collapsed, taking Jackson’s house down to the sand. That must have been the thunderous crack in the middle of the storm. Half of his home had washed away, leaving the rest like an open-faced dollhouse that had seen a war.
My heart ached for what he’d lost.
“Can I come out?” Finley asked from the dining room.
I whipped around and forced a smile to my face. “Not yet, Fin. It’s still pretty windy.” She wasn’t able to see the damage from where she stood, and I wasn’t about to break her heart.
I closed the door behind me and kissed the top of her head. “What do you say we put on a movie?”
She nodded, her eyelids already drooping with exhaustion as I set her up in the armchair so she wouldn’t bump Vivian, who took up the couch. There hadn’t been much sleep last night.
“Give me a couple minutes to check things out,” I said softly to Vivian.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
Of course I was worried—she was in some serious trouble. I opened my front door and sagged with relief. This portion of the deck had made it, too, and the stairs were still there. Seaweed covered most of the steps, and there was a scent I couldn’t quite place that would probably have overpowered my senses had the wind not still been whipping.
My stomach sank. I didn’t need to trudge through the mud around the base of my house to check on my Mini Cooper.
It was lodged in the wall of the boathouse.
My garage door? Who knew?
There was no sign of Will’s truck.
We were good and stranded, and we weren’t the only ones. According to the emergency radio, Hatteras Island had been cut off when a stretch of NC 12 washed out south of Avon. It could take weeks to repair. Vivian didn’t have weeks…or even days. She needed medical attention now.
I looked up to the skies and assessed the ceiling. It was still overcast but safe for flight. We just needed a big enough signal.
In hushed tones, so I wouldn’t wake Fin from her well-deserved nap, I explained my plan to Vivian.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” Her face was tight with pain that Tylenol wasn’t touching.
“I think it’s our only shot. Cell service is still out. Your leg needs to be set, and we didn’t grab your insulin while making our escape. If you have another idea, then I’m all ears, but right now, this is all I’ve got.”
She sighed, the skin puckering between her eyebrows. “Okay. But only if you let me help repaint once the weather is nice enough.”
“Deal,” I offered, though I had zero intention of taking her up on it. “I’ll be right back.” I pul
led the five-gallon bucket of red paint from the storage closet, stuck a paintbrush and screwdriver into my back pocket, then carried it all onto the deck.
Then I started painting.
It took the better part of an hour, but I was now the proud owner of a giant red X on my deck and enormous letters that read H-E-L-P.
Then I checked on Vivian and Fin and settled in for the long haul. I evaluated our supplies, then gauged the fuel level in the generator.
Just as I’d come inside and made peace with becoming a somewhat more eccentric version of Tom Hanks in Castaway, the sound of rotor blades beat the air.
“Daddy!” Finley raced for the sliding glass door.
“Hold up!” I barely beat her there. Sure enough, hovering above us was a rescue swimmer descending from the rope of a Coast Guard SAR helicopter.
I knew it was impossible, but my heart skipped, anyway. I hadn’t seen Jackson in almost two months, and while these weren’t the best circumstances for a heart-to-heart, I was ready to keep the vow I’d made last night.
“Are you Montgomery’s girl?” he shouted as his feet hit my deck.
I nodded. “Is that him?”
The guy looked at me like I was crazy. “No. He’s deployed, right?”
“Right.” Guess this was not my movie moment.
“Hastings is flying. He saw the X. The entire island is cut off. They’ll probably start evacuating who they can tomorrow, but we have room for two more.” He had to yell the words to be heard over the noise.
Two. Not three. This wasn’t even a made-for-television moment.
So I did what any woman in my situation would do—I sent Vivian and Finley to safety, even though they both protested, one loudly and with many tears because I couldn’t hide what had happened to her house.
Then I was alone…unless I counted the four animals I was now responsible for. Juno wound herself through my legs, confirming that she counted. I was one of the only humans she found acceptable, but I still made a mental note to hide all my shoes.
Finley and Vivian were safe, and my house still stood. I sent up a prayer of thanks.
The Reality of Everything (Flight & Glory) Page 40
