How long ago was the last one? An hour? Twenty minutes? I can’t remember. Shit, I should be writing this down.
“Stay put in there,” I whisper to the baby as the pain eases until it vanishes as if it was never here at all. “Please.”
I didn’t even notice King moved until he’s standing right beside me, guiding me to the recliner. “You should be in a hospital,” King mutters.
“Kind of hard between the roads being closed and that whole bridge collapsing thing,” I reply. “You’ve already called them a million times. Even if we could get there, they don’t have any power, and their generators aren’t working.” Not only that, but the nurse who answered the phone told King that they’re airlifting priority patients to another hospital until the wind gets too strong to keep the helicopter flying. I wouldn’t be a priority patient. Most hospitals wouldn’t even admit me at this stage. If this baby is going to come, we’re on our own. “You’re just mad they wouldn’t send the helicopter to the house for me.”
King grunts. “I know the flight medic. I’m gonna—”
“Break his neck?”
The side of his lip turns upward in a half smile. “I was going to say put a bullet in his head.”
“Look at you, full of surprises,” I tease.
He props a pillow behind my head. “Rest.”
“I can’t. I’m not even tired,” I argue, but the second my head falls back into the softness now supporting my neck, I’m out.
I wake a little while later and find King asleep on the sofa next to me. His long legs propped over the armrest. The sight of his big body making the perfectly normal-sized sofa look like it belongs in a dollhouse makes me giggle just as another contraction hits. I hiss and count and breathe and do everything I can remember from movies when people go into labor. None of it works, but it does distract me until the pain passes.
Outside, a piece of wood flies by the window. The hurricane shutters King installed are clear. The rain passing by the window is horizontal. I admire it for a few seconds, then it suddenly shifts directions until it’s spraying like a firehose against the shutter. The wind is loud. Much louder than I ever expected, almost like a car horn…if car horns could scream.
Hurricane Polly is here.
I push myself off the couch and check on the kids. They’re all sleeping, safe and sound. Preppy is asleep on the floor of Nicole Grace’s room with a bedtime story open on his lap. I shut the door softly, then waddle back into the living room and over to the window to get a better view of the storm. My worry over the hurricane is temporarily replaced by the fascinating goings-on outside. The rain shifts again, and then suddenly, it’s gone, reduced to merely a drizzle, giving me a clearer view of what a hurricane really looks like.
Somewhere between the dirt and heaven, a kaleidoscope of grey and black clouds look like fingers, swirling wider and wider, intertwining in a supernatural handshake like jealous lovers preparing to rein down either revenge or redemption upon the Earth.
Darkness captures the sky like I’ve never seen before. Ominous. Thick. It’s not even six p.m. yet the light fails to penetrate the clouds as if the sun’s warmth and light never truly existed. A mere legend or myth. A god prayed to but never seen.
And then there’s the rain.
Water gives life to all things. Plants. People. It cleanses and provides. Water is a good thing. No, a great thing.
Until it isn’t.
Water as a single droplet is harmless. However, it grows more and more dangerous as the droplets join forces. I’m witnessing just that. Rain rushes to the earth like soldiers leaping from a plane. Once they land on the ground, they gather in units, forming various puddles around the yard and driveway, widening and rising until all the puddles merge together, forming a small river from one side of the yard to the other.
I pad over to the other side of the house. The backyard is under siege as well, but these soldiers aren’t falling from the sky but crawling on their bellies from the bay, capturing more and more green space as it slowly descends upon the house.
“Shit,” King mutters from behind me, observing the rising waters. “This is only the edge of the storm and the water’s already rising.”
“Do you think it will reach the house?”
“Probably, but that’s why it’s built on stilts, so the flood waters can’t reach us.”
“Where’s Bear and Thia in all this?” I ask.
“Bear’s at the club. With the new renovations, it will hold. If the water rises to the first floor we’ll head up to the bonus room on the second.”
If there was doubt before, there isn’t now. We are in the middle of the biggest disaster of our lives.
And also, the hurricane is here.
“Mom?” Sammy asks, emerging from his bedroom, rubbing his sleepy eyes with his fists. “Where is Maxie?” Sammy asks, rubbing his sleepy eyes with his fists.
My entire body freezes, trapped in an iceberg of fear. King and I exchange a quick glance, and without hesitation, he darts down the hall. He comes back, looking tousled and frantic. His bright green eyes as wild as I’m sure mine are.
“She’s not in there,” he says, running through the kitchen. He checks every cabinet. Then the pantry.
“Nicole Grace?” I ask.
“Sleeping,” he replies.
I tug on Sammy’s hand and lower myself to his eye level. “Where did Maxie go, sweetie? Did you see?” I’m unable to hide the tremble in my voice.
He shakes his head.
King slowly raises his eyes to mine and answers the question the second they lock without saying a word. She didn’t go anywhere. She was taken.
“No!” I want to cry, but I don’t want to scare Sammy.
The screen door at the back of the house flaps in the wind, and King wastes no time running in that direction. I raise myself to my feet, and it takes forever because my mind is already at the back door with King.
“I don’t know where she went. I woke up, and she was gone,” Sammy says, following close behind.
King looks out the door in both directions. “Nothing. The door was open, but the screen door was shut. I’ll go check the garage and the treehouse. Maybe, it’s not what we think, and she’s just hiding.”
“I’ll go with you,” Preppy says.
King and Preppy run out into the rain which chooses that moment to open up onto the earth like the ocean is falling from the sky. If Max is out there in this…no. I won’t let my thoughts go there.
She’ll be fine. She has to be fine.
Sammy tugs on the sleeve of my sweater. “Will Maxie be okay?”
I brush his soft hair back on his head. “She’ll be fine. Daddy’s going to get her now. Why don’t you go sleep in Mommy and Daddy’s bed for a little while?”
He nods and pads sleepily down the hall, content with his mommy’s assurance that Max will be okay.
I really hoped what I told him wasn’t a lie.
Another contraction hits, and this time, I don’t breathe through it. Instead, I grit my teeth and wait for it to pass. When it does, I realize I can’t just stand there, so I recheck every possible hiding space in the house for Max but come up empty.
Another contraction hits me, and it’s so strong that when it passes, I find myself on my knees in the middle of the kitchen.
“Mommy!” I hear a small voice in the distance, and at first, I think it’s my imagination or the wind.
“Mommy!” It’s not the weather or my brain calling to me.
It’s my daughter.
Max’s cries are an adrenaline shot straight to my heart. I hope that King heard her, too, but I can’t rely on it. I have to get to her. It’s my only thought. My only purpose.
I head for the front door toward the sound of her cries. On instinct, I reach into the side table drawer and grab the handgun King keeps there. It’s on a belt, so I throw it over my shoulder.
What greets me outside is the storm beginning to flex its muscles.
&nb
sp; Twisted metal, what looks like used to be the poles that held up the Welcome to Logan’s Beach sign, crashes into the house, but I can’t hear the impact over the wind howling in my ear like a wolf cry in the night.
The metal piece crashes against the house again and again, turning and flopping like a fish out of water. It scrapes along the roof, tearing off shingles, before launching over the back of the house.
I duck to avoid one of the rectangular-shaped shrapnel pieces spinning in my direction. I barely manage to avoid decapitation when another hits me hard, landing flat against my back with blunt force that rips the air from my lungs. I stagger forward, trying to maintain my balance. The wind makes it hard to fill my lungs again, and it seems like forever until I’m able to take a breath that is actually productive.
I trudge forward in the shin-deep brown water. Each step meets resistance and feels as if there’s a hundred-pound weight strapped to each of my thighs. I shield my eyes from the stinging rain and try to blink away the water blurring my vision as I search the water for any sign of Max.
A contraction hits me so hard I temporarily go blind. The pain can come. I don’t give a shit about pain right now. I do need my sight to find Max however and the number of seconds it takes me to regain the use of my eyes seems like an eternity.
I’m halfway through the front yard when I see Tricia shoving Max into the backseat of her car. The water is halfway up her tire. Most of the roads are closed. There’s literally shrapnel flying around in every direction. The pain and anger I feel surging through my veins over her trying to take my daughter overwhelms me, but coming in a close second is the fact that this bitch’s plan is a shitty one and she’s putting Max in danger in order to carry it out.
Max spots me. “Mommy!”
Tricia turns and sees me coming and tries again to push Max through the door, but my girl won’t budge, kicking her legs out to avoid being pressed inside. “I’m your mommy now,” Tricia says through her teeth.
I pull King’s gun and aim it at her head and cock it.
“You’re really going to kill me for taking back my own daughter?” she says with an evil laugh and a roll of her eyes. She’s got her arms around Max as she turns to face me, using her as a shield against a potential bullet.
I see fucking RED. Rivers of red. Motherfucking oceans of red.
“She’s not yours. Never was. You lost that chance. And if you wanted to visit her, there are other ways than to take her during a fucking hurricane from her rightful parents,” I say with every ounce of anger I feel flowing through me. “Let her go, or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
Max’s eyes are trained on mine and less frightful than they were when Tricia was trying to shove her into the car. Because I’m her mom. Because she knows I’ll make it all okay. Because she trusts me.
I will not let you down, I say to Max with a silent look.
“Such language around the child,” Tricia says, pulling Max closer to her and then lifting her up into her arms. Max struggles against her, but she holds her tighter. “Shoot me, and you risk shooting her,” she says triumphantly.
“Why?” I ask, lowering my weapon so it’s not aimed at my child. “Just tell me, why are you doing this? It doesn’t make sense. After all this time.”
Tricia’s smile fades. “He…he wants children. He won’t marry me because I can’t have any more.” Her smile returns, and she jostles Max in her arms. “But I’m going to bring him my child, our child. He said we can be a family, and we’ll get married, and everything will be okay.” She looks to Max whose big eyes are still trained on me. Her voice is softer when she repeats, “Everything will be okay,” she says as if she’s trying to convince herself of her own lie.
“Even if you could get her in that car, the water has risen to the top of your tire. You can’t drive her out of here. The roads are closed and flooded. The bridge is down.”
“There’s always a way. Mothers always find a way when it comes to their children.”
Yes. Yes, they do. At least, that we can agree on.
“So, this is your idea of motherhood? Taking her from her loving home so she can be payment for the life you want for yourself? By risking her life in a storm so you can live out some distorted leave it to beaver dream?” I shout as rain pelts me from all sides while I look for my next move. I have to get to Max without risking her getting hurt, but I’ll have to wait for an opening. A movement. Anything.
“My idea of motherhood is being a mother to my daughter,” she replies.
The water is continuing to rise. I can see Tricia struggling to stay on her feet as it rushes by her.
“No, you’ve got it all wrong. Being a mother is about the crazy shit that you’d do for yourself it’s about the crazy shit you’d do for your kids. Besides, whoever this mystery guy is, he’s using you to get what he wants. Think about it. He knows King would do anything for his kids, including giving up control over Logan’s Beach. It was in the demand letter you delivered yourself. You were never going to have her because it’s not what he really wanted. He wanted the money. He’s been playing you this entire time, making you believe it’s about family when it’s only ever been about one thing. Greed.”
Tricia is about to reply when a surge of water like a wave in the ocean washes over them. Max screams as the water sweeps her out of Tricia’s arms, and they are both lost to the current.
“No!” I scream, choking on the rain in my throat.
Without thinking about anything but Max, I rush forward and dive in, letting the rushing water carry me toward my daughter.
Because fuck it.
Fuck this life.
I’ll gladly give mine for hers. Right here. Right now.
Not just gladly. Enthusiastically.
Because as long as she lives, and she will live, my life is a small trinket to trade in exchange for such a return.
I try to float above the water but every so often my foot catches on something that pulls me under. When I emerge, I’ve lost sight of Max, until I hear her scream again. I glance in the direction of her voice and see her hanging onto a piece of wood that looks like the top of her swing set. I don’t fight the water. There’s no point. It’s too fast. Too strong. Instead, I make myself as wide as I can, spreading my arms and legs in hopes that it will hook onto the playset. If I can just get close enough. I calm my breathing even as my daughter's screams grow louder, and my every instinct is calling on me to try and swim to her.
Another wave takes me under, but when I emerge again, I see the playset. I’m almost on it. Max is still clinging to the pole, but she cries out as she begins to slip.
I let out a raw scream as I reach my limbs as far as they can go. I manage to hook my foot around the wood under the water connecting to the piece Max is clinging to. Pain slices through me, either another contraction or something in the water slicing me, but I don’t have time to be in pain. I pull myself up on the wood and reach for Max’s hand.
“Reach for me!” I yell to her over the wind and rain.
She leans out and extends her shaking little hand. I grab it and pull her to me, setting her against my huge belly. “Hey, there. Fancy seeing you here,” I say, relieved at the weight of her in my arms, a feeling that for a moment I didn’t know if I’d ever experience again. Even with rain and tears streaming down my face, she manages to smile at my joke.
“You have to hold on tight, baby. Can you do that for me? Just for a few more minutes?”
She nods and grips the wood as tight as she can. We only have another minute or two before we are completely submerged once again, so I have to think fast. I guide myself, one hand over the other along the top of the swing set until my hand finds the metal chain connecting the swing. I unhook both chains and tie one end around my waist. I’m going to tie this around your waist okay?”
She nods as I tie her to me. I take both swings and push them between the chains and our bodies to act as floats. Hopefully, it will keep us above water so we can be
found.
I don’t have time to contemplate it before we’re swept up in the water yet again. We manage to stay upright as I float on my back with my daughter on my chest above my stomach, but I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold this position. Floating debris collides with my shoulder, and I know I’m bleeding, but fuck blood. Blood doesn’t matter. It never did.
It never would.
Not in our family.
“Are you okay?” I call out to Max.
“I’m scared, Mommy,” she replies.
“Don’t be. Mommy’s got you. Mommy wouldn’t ever let anything happen to you. You know that, right?”
She nods against my neck.
“Good. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
I look around for something to grab, but I don’t see anything but water and the tops of some trees.
The sound of the rushing water grows louder and louder until I realize it’s not the water at all.
Two wave runners emerge from the back of the house and speed toward us, racing ahead of us. They stop just before the billboard, and just before we crash into it, we’re lifted from the water by out of this world strong arms and placed over King’s lap. “Maxie, are you okay, baby?” he shouts over the wind.
“Yes, Daddy. Mommy saved me.”
He looks over at me. “I know. She saved me, too, baby. She saved me, too.”
King hits the throttle and heads back to the house. The water is so high now it covers the first floor. King kills the engine and pulls alongside a window to the bonus room on the second floor. The window opens. We stop below an open window, and King unchains Max from me, hoisting her up to Bear’s waiting arms. King turns me so that my belly faces away from the house and lifts me by my thighs, not letting go until Bear has me seated on the window ledge. Carefully spinning me back around, he cradles me in his arms, then sets my feet on the floor, but my legs give out, and I fall to my knees.
“Hello there, darlin’,” Bear drawls as if we just ran into each other at the local bar.
King of the Causeway, a King Series Novella Page 5