Within a week, townsfolk began boycotting clothing. They didn’t want to go outside in anything more than a bathing suit, which made for awkward grocery store conversations. Nobody knew exactly where to look when Ned Lincoln wore his speedo to the council meeting. Two days later, the sky burst open like a slit water balloon. Rain fell in fast, gray sheets, and the storm didn’t stop for twenty-six hours, forty-four minutes, and two seconds.
~~~~
Saturday mornings were Tessa Andrews’ favorite. She drank mocha-flavored instant coffee and read a cheesy, romance novel in bed until her stomach growled. Then she pulled on her most comfortable clothes and drove across the bridge to Scrambled, Mystic Water’s new diner serving breakfast from five in the morning until three in the afternoon. Nothing bad ever happened to Tessa on Saturday mornings. Not until the Saturday morning the rain stopped.
Tessa woke to the sound of a chorus of ducks quacking and a persistent bullfrog croaking out a bass line. Why do they sound so loud? she wondered. She opened her eyes and stared into the two shiny black eyes of a fat, knobby bullfrog sitting beside her on the bed. Its wide mouth seemed to be grinning at her. It opened its gaping maw and croaked a good morning. Tessa inhaled so sharply all the air in the room funneled toward her, bringing the bullfrog so close she could smell its pond-water breath. She screamed, sat up like someone who’d been jolted by lightning, and jerked the covers toward her chin. The sudden tautness of the duvet launched the bullfrog into the air as though he’d been bounced from a trampoline. It sailed through the spinning blades of the ceiling fan, croaking a question, and landed with a splash into the water surrounding her bed.
Tessa’s eyes widened like chocolate malt balls. At least two feet of muddy water swirled in from the hallway and into her bedroom, soaking the edges of her dovetail gray duvet. A family of colorful wood ducks circled around the bedroom, trying to find ways onto the dry land of her bed. For an entire minute, all Tessa could do was stare at the deluge in her condo. A bottle of lotion floated past as though it was a pink, rose-smelling boat, carrying three ladybug passengers on a voyage. Daisies in an overturned vase drifted into a wall, one red flip flop bobbed out her bedroom door, and the plastic cup she’d used as a wine glass the night before rocked back and forth like a buoy.
Her bottom lip trembled as she flipped back the covers. Her beautiful condo was drowning. She tested the water with a big toe. It was the same temperature as Jordan Pond in the summer. Tessa inhaled a deep breath, gathering her courage. Then she slipped off the bed into the murk. The wave created by her movements caused two gray tennis shoes to surf out of her closet and crash into her legs.
She waded through the water, picking up sopping wet items and cradling them in her arms as she moved down the short hallway into the combination living room, dining room, and kitchen. The front door was a victim of the rising water. The door had bulged and cracked away from its frame, allowing gallons of water to fill her home. The coffee table knocked into her hip as it floated off center in the living room. She glanced down and saw that her cell phone had miraculously survived the flood. She had also missed fifteen calls. Tessa dropped the wet items onto the floating table and grabbed her phone. She scrolled through the missed calls from her mom and Lily Connelly, her best friend.
Tessa dialed Lily’s number. Before she could say a word, Lily launched into a conversation. “Where have you been?” Lily demanded. “I’ve been calling for hours. Jakob told me he saw on the seven o’clock morning news that Jordan Pond rose ten feet overnight and that all of Oak Bend is flooded. And I asked him, ’Why does Oak Bend sound so familiar?’ You know how distracted I’ve been lately, and he said, ’Doesn’t Tessa live in Oak Bend right off the pond?’ And I freaked out. I’ve been calling and calling–”
Tessa released a pitiful sob. She pried open her front door the rest of the way and more water flowed in. She couldn’t distinguish Jordan Pond from her front porch or front yard or even fifty yards in any direction. She was now living in the pond. Something scaly and quick flitted past her bare leg, and she screamed into the phone, dancing around like a drunken ballerina.
Lily shouted, “Tessa! What is going on?”
Tessa pressed herself against the nearest wall and stared at the murky water surrounding her. The she cried, “There are ducks in my bedroom. I slept with a bullfrog.”
“You slept with who? Don’t tell me you let Robert sweet talk you into staying over last night. You know he’s totally wrong for you. Weren’t you just telling me that he bored you to death? Those were your exact words. He bores me to death, Lily. I fell asleep the other day mid-conversation–”
“Lily!” Tessa said. “My condo…it’s underwater.”
“Are you serious?” Lily asked.
Tessa nodded even though she knew Lily couldn’t see her head bobbing or the tears rolling down her cheeks. “Yeah. I’m standing in the living room in my pajamas, and I think there are fish in the kitchen. You remember in the sixth grade when Bobby Fletcher told everybody there were gators living in Jordan Pond? You think he was lying, don’t you?” she asked, trying to keep herself from a full-blown panic attack.
“Tessa, you hold on, okay? I’ll be right there.”
~~~~
By the time Tessa heard Lily’s voice calling out to her, she had packed a couple of small bags with clothes and miscellaneous personal items she didn’t want to leave unattended in her wrecked condo. She had also changed into a pair of shorts and a gray Eeyore T-shirt. When Tessa sloshed toward the front door, she saw Lily sitting in a rowboat wearing a bright orange life jacket that clashed horribly with the pale pink shirt she wore. Her long, curly blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun on the top of her head. A white-haired older man sat at the stern. A rowboat floated outside her condo where there used to be a sidewalk and the azaleas she’d planted. She thought, Don’t park there. You’ll kill the bushes. Which were drowning at least five feet under the water. A laughing sob bubbled up her throat.
She and Lily locked eyes, and her bottom lip trembled. Lily reached out to her. “Be careful.” Lily took the bags from Tessa. “We’ve seen all sorts of debris floating on top of the water. There’s no telling what’s underneath.”
Underneath? Like my condo, my car, my life.
The old man handed Tessa a life jacket and said, “I know it’s not that deep here, but it’s a lot deeper in other places. Better safe than sorry.”
Tessa nodded, slipped the jacket that smelled like last year’s mildew over her head, and secured it around her chest and waist. The man motioned for her to approach him at the rear of the boat, and while keeping the weight in the boat balanced, he pulled Tessa over the stern.
Tessa slid into the boat like an uncoordinated baby seal, belly first with arms trapped beneath her body weight. She flopped onto her back and stared up at the man with his head haloed by white marshmallow clouds in a faded blue sky.
“Thank you,” she said as he pulled her into a sitting position. She crawled over a bench seat toward Lily and sat. Then she exhaled, trying hard not to start crying again.
“This is Harold Spencer,” Lily said. “He’s one of the men who volunteered to help those who are stranded today.” Lily lifted her oar and paddled in rhythm with Harold.
Tessa hugged her arms around her middle even though the rising sun warmed her cheeks. Soggy air clung to her skin like heated syrup. “How’s the rest of town? Are there a lot of people who need help?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Harold said. “Most of the people in the low-lying areas are either under a good bit of water or the roads around them are flooded. Anybody stuck in a flooded home has been pulled out now though. The other men have motor boats, much faster than Bessie here,” he said, patting the edge of the rowboat, “and they picked up people a lot quicker. Mrs. Connelly here flagged me down as I was rowing Mrs. Jolene Harper to her niece on Walnut Street.”
Tessa nodded and looked at Lily. “I haven’t called Mama yet. You think she’s having a connipt
ion about now?”
“I called her. She was having a conniption and wanted to know why you didn’t call her first. I told her it’s because Jakob and I live closer.”
“Did she buy that?” Tessa felt too frayed at the edges to try and soothe her mother’s worries effectively.
“Sure,” Lily said. “She was just relieved you were okay. She’d already talked to your neighbor, John somebody, around eight this morning, and he said the whole bottom floor of the building was underwater. She didn’t know why you didn’t call anyone sooner. What took you so long?”
Tessa stared at an armada of clear plastic bowls with blue lids floating past. A spring wreath decorated with pastel, plastic eggs and tied with a soggy blue ribbon weaved in and out of the current that pulled everything downhill, back toward the epicenter of the pond. “I was sleeping. You know a cannon blast can’t wake me when I’m out.” She glanced at Lily again. “Thanks for coming to get me.” She blinked away her tears. “Where am I going to live?”
“Hey, now,” Lily said, pausing in her rowing and sliding closer to Tessa. She looped her arm around Tessa’s shoulders. “It’ll dry up, and we’ll get in and assess the damage. Then, we’ll fix it. You can stay with us if you can tolerate a two-year-old holy terror, and you know your mama will take you in.” Lily squeezed Tessa’s shoulder. “It’s not as bad as it seems right now.”
“’Cause it seems awful,” Tessa said. A toothbrush sailed past on miniature rapids.
“Wanna grab breakfast at the diner? Isn’t that your usual routine?” Lily asked.
“Is it even open?” Tessa tucked her short brown hair behind her ears.
“It is. I drove past it on my way to you. Downtown is dry. How about a huge stack of waffles smothered in cane syrup?”
Tessa smiled for the first time all morning. “You think they’ll let me eat inside? I smell like a river rat.”
“You’ve smelled worse. Remember when you were on that boiled cabbage kick? Dang, you reeked for days.” Lily nudged her elbow into Tessa’s side.
Tessa couldn’t help but chuckle. She had stunk. Nobody liked the smell of cabbage sweating out of the pores, not even the one sweating. “I think I might need biscuits and gravy too. For comfort, you know.”
Lily grinned and lifted her oar. “Mr. Spencer, will you please row two damsels in distress who are in desperate need of Southern cooking toward downtown? We would be much obliged for your kindness,” she said, laying on her Southern accent thick.
Mr. Spencer shook his head and mumbled, “Silly girls,” but he was smiling and changing directions, pointing the bow toward Scrambled.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to all of my early readers and helpers—Becky, Carla, Hank, Jason, Jenna, Karissa, Tia, Tracey, and Vanessa—for your insight, knowledge, encouragement, and questions that helped give this story wings. Thanks to Julianne for your beautiful cover design and for always taking the time to help me, no matter what. Special thanks to my readers. Your support of my dreams is priceless.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jennifer Moorman was born and raised in southern Georgia, where honeysuckle grows wild and the whippoorwills sing. She considers herself a traveler, an amateur baker, and a dreamer. Jennifer lives in Nashville, Tennessee, where she is currently working on her next novel, Honeysuckle Hollow. Her enchanting debut novel, The Baker’s Man, is available in print and as an e-book. To learn more about Jennifer, visit her website at www.jennifermoorman.com.
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