by Jenny Hale
Lillian’s eyes bulged.
“The press will eventually get wind of all this,” Lillian said. “We need to have an organized response in case we’re cornered. But right now, we need to decide how to approach Edward when we speak to him again.”
Callie hadn’t experienced it in her own life, but she could spot it—that defending instinct of a mother protecting her child. Lillian was intense as she tried to think through how to handle the situation.
Luke spoke to Juliette in a whisper. They seemed so close, and it was clear that hearing that they were half-siblings, while a huge thing, hadn’t tainted anything between them. Callie had worried about how Juliette might take the news, but in the end, he was still her brother. Juliette put her head on his shoulder for a moment.
“I want to be there too,” Aiden said, shifting forward. “If you’re concerned about me taking the company, Luke, you don’t have to worry about that.” Aiden leaned in. “I’ve always thought I could run the business but I never believed that it belonged to anyone other than you.”
“I feel like I should be there too,” Lillian said, shaking her head. “I have to finally tell him what happened all those years ago. I’m not proud of it,” she said, “but it’s part of my past and I should be present to answer Edward’s questions. He’s going to have quite a few for me, I’m certain.”
“We’ll be there to support you,” Luke said. His knee bounced up and down. “He won’t talk to me right now. Let’s let him cool off—let this all settle in—and I’ll call him.”
Law enforcement is asking that you stay away from any remaining flooded roadways until the rest of the water can recede. Flash flooding is still a problem. Tree limbs and branches cover the roadways due to high winds and they are causing hazards, along with other road debris. As you can see behind me, stoplights are swinging into the water, and the wind is still blowing hard, making clean-up and repairs difficult. I urge you to use caution upon return. The mayor has issued a mandatory curfew of nine p.m. I’ll update you every hour on the hour, right here, on Channel Six.
Luke came in and sat down. He’d just taken the last of the things to the car and everyone was nearly ready to leave, all of them completely exhausted from staying up last night. Luke had tried to see Edward again, but he’d checked out already, so he let him go, promising his mother he’d call him after they’d all gotten settled back home. After everyone had gone to bed, Frederick had returned quietly, and he hadn’t said a whole lot this morning, clearly immersed in his own thoughts.
The storm wasn’t as devastating as they had predicted but there was still quite a bit of damage and everyone was eager to get home to see things for themselves. Luke had had room service bring up breakfast and coffee at five a.m., and he’d insisted all the ladies stay and have their coffee while he packed, telling them they needed to watch the news so they could update him if they heard anything that might inhibit their return.
“What have they said?” he asked his mother, as Frederick left to take a dolly down to the car.
“It’s just a mess down there, like it always is after a hurricane.”
Callie had seen pictures on the news in other years, but she hadn’t experienced the complete worry that the residents faced every time it happened. It had always been a tragedy, but by the time she’d returned for vacation, the entire place was rebuilt, open for business, ready for the tourists who flocked down and settled on those glorious beaches. Once the damage had been reported, the media moved on to the next story, and the rebuilding process every time went unmentioned. But now, seeing the damage, and knowing it could be like that at her new home, where her life was now, it filled her with fear.
The news program had focused mostly on the villages further north of Callie’s, the major tourist locations where the rest of the country would relate, so she hadn’t been able to see the fate of Waves.
“Did you secure your surfboards?” she asked suddenly.
Luke nodded. “I tied them up in the rafters of the shed. Unless it was blown away, they should be just fine.”
“Okay,” she said with an exhalation, apprehension still assaulting her.
“We’d better get a move on,” he said.
Twenty-Three
They were forced to stay on the bypass when they came across the bridge from the mainland, having only gained access by proving they were permanent residents. Portions of Beach Road had crumbled into the ocean. The water had receded mostly back into the sea, leaving puddles and pockets of flooding in the residential areas. They carried on, hoping they would have solid road all the way to Waves. The car was silent as they drove past the damage.
“I’ll take you home first,” Luke said quietly, both hands gripping the wheel intently. A power line dipped into the road beside them as he pulled to a stop to yield to any traffic, the stoplights out. He looked both ways, but unless it was by boat, no one would be coming from either direction, as the side street was flooded. He carried on. “It’s bad up this way,” he said. But he didn’t say anything more. Callie wondered if it would be this bad in Waves.
All of a sudden, Luke pulled over. “There’s a tree blocking the road over there and that car can’t get down it.”
Callie saw the driver. He’d exited his car and was pulling with all his might on the trunk of the tree, trying to move it. It would budge just a little and he’d lose grip. There were kids in the back of his car.
“Stay put. I’m going to help him,” Luke said.
Before she or Frederick could say anything, he jumped out and ran down the street. Frederick went out after him, leaving Callie. She could see them talking to the man as he gestured toward one of the cottages. Then the three men strained and pulled until the tree had shifted. All three of them got on one side of it and in a unified effort, moved it to the side of the road. The man shook Luke’s hand.
“They rode out the storm,” he said, slightly winded, when he got back. “His wife is pregnant and on bed-rest. He was worried about the tree blocking their way if they needed to get to the hospital. She’s due any day. They thought the storm would’ve brought on labor, but they were lucky.”
Callie shook her head, the enormity of the situation overwhelming her to the point of speechlessness. Luke and Frederick got back into the car and there was a hushed anticipation as they made their way home.
The further down the road they went, the more hopeful Callie became, the storm having spared parts of the Outer Banks. The road was cracked in places, making it difficult for Luke to maneuver the large vehicle without hitting major dips, but he was a skilled driver and he made it through. Every time she saw some damage, Callie’s heart sank, but she knew she couldn’t expect the storm to have skipped over her part of the barrier islands completely.
They passed a cottage that was missing part of its front porch and a bit of the roof on the left side. An elderly woman was standing alone in the yard, struggling with a load of bags. Callie shot Luke an apprehensive look. He slowed the car.
“Do you think she’s okay?” he asked.
Callie shook her head. “No, we should help her.”
He glanced over at her. “But you need to check your own house.”
“Getting there sooner won’t change anything.” It was quite obvious that people around them were struggling and she felt compelled to help after hearing about the man and his wife that Luke had helped.
He pulled the car over and got out, taking his phone from his back pocket. “Let me just text Juliette, and let her know.”
The woman, who was carrying bags of debris in her tiny arms, stopped and watched them advance toward her. By the look on her face, and the growing roundness of her eyes, she recognized Luke.
“Hello,” he said as he approached her. “Luke Sullivan.”
She looked around and set the bags down beside her. Probably trying to decide if she was on some sort of hidden camera show.
“Do you need help with anything?”
The woman’s eyebrow
s shot up in surprise, relief on her face. “Yes!” she said, throwing her hand to her chest, her voice almost giddy. “I live alone and I’m trying to move all that.” She pointed to a pile of debris by the porch.
“Well, we’ve got it from here. What’s your name?”
“Paula.”
“Hi, Paula. This is Callie and Frederick. Put us to work.” Luke picked up the bags for her. “Where do these go?”
“Just to the street,” she said, meeting their eyes with a grateful smile. “I was making a pile until I can find my trashcan or get a new one. It was blown away in the storm.”
Luke placed the bags at the street and joined Callie and Frederick as they walked toward the house, Paula leading them to the other pile of boards and wreckage. “Does all this need to be bagged up?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m just piling what will fit it into the bags. Be careful, because the wood is full of nails.” Then she stopped and looked directly at Luke. “Thank you,” she said with sincerity in her voice. “I’ll be inside working on the damaged roof. Just let yourselves in if you need anything.” She hovered briefly, still clearly in shock at their gesture, but then, once they’d gotten to work, she headed inside.
Carefully, they put what they could into the bags and piled the rest in a more orderly mound. As Paula had warned, every piece was jagged, torn, full of nails and sharp splintering wood, so they labored slowly. Luke was all business, not stopping once to make eye contact, and Callie wished, despite the task at hand, that he’d give her even one small gesture to let her know that he didn’t hate her, but it never came.
As they worked, Callie kept hearing a distant sound above the crashing of the ocean, but she couldn’t make it out until, all of a sudden, she stopped. “Do you hear that?” she said.
Luke and Frederick slowed to a halt and stood still. The static sound of the ocean filled the air.
“What do you hear?” Frederick said.
Callie tilted her head to the side, sharpening her hearing, waiting for the sound again.
Nothing.
“Maybe it was just my ears playing tricks on me,” she said, knowing for sure she’d heard something. Whatever it was, it was gone now. She leaned down to pick up a piece of wood and there it was again. “Did you hear it?”
“I did,” Luke said, looking around and walking away from where they were working. Callie followed.
Their movement seemed to jar whatever it was because the sound got more intense, a high-pitched whimper. They walked across to the next lot, which seemed empty, the owners most likely still out of town. The whimpering came again and Luke looked under one of the cars.
“It’s a dog,” he said. “It looks scared.” He leaned down as Callie peered under the vehicle. “Come here, boy,” Luke said gently, patting his thighs. The dog was some sort of Labrador mix—black with a white patch on its chest—and it didn’t move. It cried again.
“It’s hurt,” Callie said. She’d played with enough dogs growing up to tell that it couldn’t come to him. Its tail wasn’t wagging, and its head didn’t rise, but its eyes followed Luke as he walked around the car to try to figure out what to do.
“It’s okay,” she said to the dog in a soothing voice. “We’ll help you.”
Luke lay down on his back and shimmied under the car to get a better look at the dog, the whole time talking to it, telling it his next move as if it understood him. Maybe it did because it stopped whining and just lay there. Frederick dumped a couple more bags by the street before joining them.
“It’s probably starving,” Luke said from under the car. He ran his hand gently along the dog’s side. “I’ll bet he got pushed under here in the storm somehow. Or maybe he got hurt and tried to find himself some shelter.” He let the dog sniff his hand but it still didn’t move, clearly not worried by Luke at all. Luke ran his hand along the dog’s head, down each arm, and along its leg. When he got to the bottom of the dog’s leg, it yelped. “Yep. He’s hurt.”
“I’ll check with Paula to see if she knows the owners,” Frederick said.
Callie reached under the car, gently stroking the dog’s head. It tried to lift itself up to greet her but winced and lay back down. “We’ll make it all better,” she said gently and the dog took in a short huff of breath that sounded like relief. She fished around its neck for a collar but there wasn’t one.
“I think I have a first aid kit in the truck. Callie, could you get the bandages out? I’m going to try to stabilize the dog’s leg under the car before I pull him out so he isn’t in any pain. See if you can get a few of the depressor sticks out of there too so we can make a splint.”
He wriggled around and pulled his keys out of his pocket, tossing them out from under the car. Callie scooped them up and ran over to get what they needed. On the way to the car, she thought about how much things had changed, how distant Luke was with her now, and she ached to feel his playfulness again. It was painfully clear to her that she missed him. He was right there but he wasn’t at the same time, and her heart actually ached being that close to him and not seeing his smile.
She returned in a flash, and stopped alongside Frederick and Paula, who was leaning down to view the dog.
“I have no idea whose dog that is,” Paula said. “The owners next door don’t have any pets. I’ve never seen it before.”
Callie handed Luke the items he needed to bandage the dog’s leg. As he was wrapping it, the dog whimpered a bit, but allowed him to work. “It’s a big dog, but by the size of its paws, it looks like a puppy to me,” he said, gently lifting the dog’s leg to get the bandage around it. Luke was on his side, his lower half protruding from under the car.
When the dog’s leg was properly secured, Luke slid his arms underneath its body and gently drew it near him as he scooted out from under the car. The dog was clearly uncomfortable, its legs moving as if it were paddling, but its injury meant it couldn’t make it out without assistance. It tried to stand and its legs buckled under the pain. Luke caught it and sat down on the driveway with it in his lap.
“It’s a girl,” he said. “She’s probably dehydrated and hungry, and her leg’s in bad shape. It’s definitely broken. We should take her to a veterinarian.”
“You two take her,” Frederick said. “Callie can help her to remain still while you drive. I’ll stay and keep working for Paula.”
With a nod, Luke carried the dog to the car and, after Callie had climbed in, he gently set the dog on her lap. She lifted her head and it was then that Callie really got a look at her face. It was black with a white stripe between her eyes that met her white muzzle. Her chest and paws were also white, her floppy ears down as she looked up at Callie trustingly. Callie smiled at her, and her tail smacked Callie’s leg just a little.
“We’ve got you,” Callie said. “Let’s fix that leg up for you, okay?”
Another few thumps from the dog’s tail.
“She’s so sweet,” she said to Luke. “I can’t believe she’s probably been there since the storm.”
“Well, she might have collapsed there later; we don’t know. But from the look of her, she needs some care, and quickly.”
Careful not to compromise the dog’s leg, Callie cuddled her just a little more.
The dog had needed IV fluids and a full day at the vet to nurse her back to health. She was also getting a cast on her broken leg—Luke had been correct. No one had called the veterinarian as of yet with a missing dog matching that description, so Callie and Luke promised to return for her, and Luke had stepped forward to take care of the bill. He also left his cell phone number, which the veterinary assistant had stared at as if she’d gotten a famous autograph or something.
As they headed back to Paula’s, Callie asked, “What will happen to the dog?”
“I suppose she’ll get a name.”
“Think we should keep her?”
His eyes stayed on the road. “We?”
It had been an unconscious word choice and she hadn’t meant to im
ply anything. “Well, I was thinking if no one claims her, I’d like to keep the dog at The Beachcomber—I’ve already fallen in love with her. But I suppose we can share custody if you’d like to have her.” She remembered how he’d said he’d like a dog when they’d first met. She wished for those times again but tried not to think about it.
“You can keep her. But then it should be you who gives her a name. What are you going to call her?” He pulled down a side street and stopped at the intersection, checking to see if it was clear to cross.
Callie thought for a while. She’d never expected to have a dog—another being to depend on her. Was she ready? Could she give it the attention it needed? But as she remembered the dog’s sweet little face, she just knew that it was meant to be. “I’d like to name her…” She rolled a few names around in her head, thinking about how she had sort of popped up out of nowhere. “Poppy.”
“Poppy,” he said, pursing his lips in thought. “Poppy the puppy. I like it.”
For the rest of the ride, Poppy brought new questions to Callie’s mind: Was The Beachcomber a place for a family dog? Family… Would it ever be somewhere to raise lots of children? Wyatt would certainly be fine—he acted so much older than his age. But what about more? What if she could’ve had children with Luke and she’d messed it up? The idea of being happy and investing herself in someone hadn’t seemed so far off, until she’d told Luke about Frederick.
They pulled up at Paula’s, behind Juliette’s SUV. They’d all gotten out and were helping with what they could while the kids tossed a ball in the yard. Frederick had piled the last of the wreckage by the street.
“Forgive me,” Paula said after she approached Luke and Callie, “but I’ve been dying to ask... Are you the Luke Sullivan? The one from the magazines?”
Luke smiled politely. “Yes.”
“Wow,” she said, astounded.
“You know, he’s more saving-puppies-and-fixing-houses than he is all those things they write in the magazines,” Callie said with a smile and a cautious look over at Luke.