But in the distance, the ocean roared.
“Cara?”
The sound of David’s voice brought her back to the task at hand. She looked up with a quick smile. “Yes, coming.”
She walked past him as he held the door open for her, stepping into the steamy, stale air of a locked-up house. She set down the cooler and stretched out her hand to flick on the lights, shedding an instant glow on her familiar surroundings.
Everything was as she’d left it. Truth be told, nothing significant had changed since her mother had lived here. It was still the same three-bedroom house. A small entryway opened into the spacious living room with its row of windows overlooking the ocean, heart pine floors, and shiplap walls, with a brick fireplace dominating one wall. To the left, a narrow hall lined with family photographs in black frames led to two small bedrooms. As a child she’d slept in the leeward room and her brother, Palmer, on the seaward side. To the right was a small galley kitchen and the larger master bedroom. Cara had done all she could to the galley kitchen save knocking down an exterior wall and adding on. But she’d never change the original design of the house that had been built by her grandparents. Instead, Cara had added a fresh bit of youth and color with pale ocean-blue paint and glossy white trim, and the new sunporch off the back of the house. That had been Brett’s final contribution to the cottage. Though it wasn’t a large house, she’d never felt crowded in it.
David returned to the house carrying the groceries they’d picked up before arriving. He kicked the door shut behind him as he made his way to the kitchen. “That’s the last of it.”
Shaken from her reverie, Cara followed him to the kitchen, feeling a little guilty for not helping more. “I was woolgathering. It’s always this way when I come back after an absence. The memories rush in.”
David plopped the two brown paper bags on the counter, then looked over at her. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered. His salt-and-pepper hair was gaining more salt since she’d met him four years earlier. But the thick eyebrows over his rich brown eyes were still black. He was one of those men who aged well, would perhaps even look better with the passing of time. His eyes crinkled.
“Well, we made it.”
“We were the idiots heading toward the storm. Come to think of it, isn’t that some bedrock of myth? The fire-breathing monster rises from the sea and all the people flee. But there’s always the fool who rushes in to fight the monster.”
“Yeah. That fool is called the hero,” David said with a smirk.
“Fool, hero—he usually gets killed in the battle.”
“He rises to the gods.”
“He being the operative word. You’re covered. What happens to the woman? She gets banished to Hades.”
His chuckle rumbled low in his chest as he moved closer and gathered her into his arms. She felt his strength surround her and closed her eyes for a moment, breathing it in. Then she yawned loudly.
“Want to call it a night and start fresh in the morning?” he asked.
“We sat in that horrid waiting room for more than three hours,” she said. “We lost so much time—we’ve got to get rolling. I don’t want to be a heroine. I want to get out of here. Run!”
He kissed the top of her head, releasing her. “How about I pour us a glass of wine and we settle in.”
Cara ran her hands through her short hair and rubbed her scalp. “Settle in? We just got here. I’ll unload the groceries. You turn on the oven for the frozen pizza. After we eat, we can get started.”
David pulled out a bottle of red and set it on the counter. As he fished in the drawers for the corkscrew, he said, “Honey, it’s too late to start tonight. It’s too dark.”
“We can’t just hang out. We came here to get this done and get out!”
“And we will. Tonight we can start by locating the shutters and tools. We’ll make a plan. But we’ll start putting up the shutters tomorrow. We’re both beat, and”—he indicated the darkening sky—“we’re losing daylight.”
Cara rubbed her hands together, agitated. She couldn’t wait to leave. Her phone rang, and grateful for the distraction, she grabbed it from her purse.
“Hello?”
“Cara? It’s Grace.”
“Hello!” She had met Grace Phillips waiting in line at the IGA grocery store, a small market not far from David’s house in Tryon. Grace had an easy, outgoing manner and they struck up a conversation about the good meat at the shop, the Tryon movie theater, and within the space of five minutes Cara knew a great deal about the area and had struck up a friendship.
“I heard you went to the island. I’m worried about you. Is there anything I can do?”
Cara smiled. “Calling is enough. Your timing is perfect.”
“How long are you there for?”
“A day. We’ll be back in a jif.”
“Promise you will. And call me when you get back.”
“I will.”
Cara walked into the living room, feeling buoyed by the call. She turned on the television. After a moment the picture formed and Cara switched immediately to the Weather Channel. She stood in front of the screen, arms folded, watching intently.
David approached with a glass of wine. “I doubt anything’s changed in the last hour.”
“Shh,” she said, taking the glass. “It’s the eight o’clock update.”
She felt the walls close in around her as the news showed photographs of the damage Hurricane Noelle had wreaked in the Caribbean. The Virgin Islands were decimated and the storm had hit Cuba as a Category Four. When the meteorologist reported that the storm was likely to become a Category Five hurricane, confirming what Bobby had told her at the gas station, Cara felt her knees weaken.
“Oh, God,” she said as a groan.
“We’ll be out of here in forty-eight hours,” David said, and reached out to turn off the TV.
“No, don’t turn it off,” Cara cried out.
“It’s making you crazy.”
“I need to hear it. Do you mind?”
He shook his head. “Not if you don’t. But if you stand here watching it all the time, we won’t get anything done.”
Cara smiled, chagrined. “Right. I’ll show you where everything is,” she said, turning away from the television and returning to the kitchen. “Brett was always very organized about shutters and his tools, and I’ve kept it up. I’ve got all my important papers organized and ready to go in plastic files.” She chuckled softly. “I call it my pack-and-go box. I’ve had that done since June. When hurricane season begins, I’m counting my flashlights.”
David pulled the frozen pizza from the box and put it into the oven. “Sounds good. This should be easy.”
“The hard part is deciding what else I’ll take with me.” Cara looked around her precious home. In her mind’s eye she saw all the things that were dear to her. A few special pieces of jewelry. Photos. Hope’s baby album. She shook her head. “I want to pack up the entire house and carry it to a safe place.”
“I know,” he replied, rounding the counter to refill her glass of wine. “We all feel the same. But that’s the price we pay for living in paradise.”