Fireflies and Lies (A Summerbrook Novel Book 4)

by Vicki Wilkerson

  He walked back to the old man. “Did you see a little girl get out?”

  “Oh, no. Can’t say I did.”

  “Savannah!” he yelled.

  Jenna ran to the top step and craned to see her. “Savannah!” She jogged back, looking all around.

  “Oh, Lord. I was holding so tight on that ladder, I ain’t seen nothing but the bottom of your shoes,” the old man said.

  Jenna touched him. “Jasper, you couldn’t have known.”

  “No. It’s my fault. I should have asked you to keep an eye out for her. She’s done this before. Lots. I just wasn’t thinking straight when I saw Jenna on that roof.”

  “We’ve got to spread out,” Jenna said.

  The old guy looked at Jenna. “I’ll go to the cabin and look. I’ll get your momma to help if she’s still there,” he said.

  “Thanks, Jasper,” she said. “She doesn’t talk, so if you find her, you’ll have to pick her up and bring her back.”

  He nodded.

  “Hogan, you check toward the gate, and I’ll look around the carriage house. Those are the closest places. She’s so little she couldn’t have gotten far. We’ll meet back here. And, Jasper, have Momma drop off Amberlee at the house and tell her to try to wake Daddy. We need everyone we can to look for Savannah.”

  “Yes, Miss Jenna.” She took the book from Hogan. She looked almost shocked. “And could you please put this back in her booster seat?”

  “Yes, Miss Jenna.”

  They all split off in different directions.

  What was Hogan thinking? He knew better than to leave Savannah unattended. But he was so worried about Jenna on that slippery roof. She couldn’t have lasted much longer. It had been a reflex.

  “Savannah! Savannah! Come to Daddy’s voice, sweetie! Savannah!” He looked along the edges of the drive that was almost a tunnel with all the old live oaks that joined forces to protect the ground from the skies—the dusky, churning skies. The rain pummeled the earth again. For longer this time. And the winds picked up a little. And didn’t abate.

  Pushing the pain away, he nearly jogged down the road, yelling Savannah’s name—until he saw the gate. Then he ran as fast as he could. What if his baby had reached the gate? Or Ashley River Road beyond it?

  Everything within him barreled out her name. “Savannah!”

  He darted out into the middle of the now-deserted road and looked left and then right.

  She was nowhere to be seen.

  ⸙

  Jenna made it back to their rendezvous point in the front yard. Amberlee was on the porch walking from one end to the other, straining to see through the rain.

  The golf cart came winding around the corner. Good. Her mother was able to wake her father.

  The rain was pouring down harder and faster and the wind was pushing everything in circles. Where was that precious little girl?

  This was all her fault. Hogan would surely hold her responsible. She was more of a debutante and a disability than a handyman and a help. She desperately wanted to be the latter. She had to be the latter if she were to get everything she’d set her sights on—DeBordieu Plantation…Hogan…and Savannah.

  Right now, Savannah had to be found. She had to be safe.

  “Savannah!” she yelled. And then she had an idea. In the rain and the wind. “Amberlee, go inside and bring me that dinner bell from the top of the old pie safe in the kitchen.”

  “Right away, sweetie,” she ambled toward the door.

  She looked up to see Hogan maneuvering down the lane from the front gate. He was dripping wet. They were all soaked.

  The wind started making a whistling sound.

  Jasper came walking briskly from the path that led to the graveyard, yelling, “Savannah.”

  They all convened at the golf cart at the dirt crossroads. Rain washed little rivers all about their feet.

  “Okay, what’s next?” She looked toward the skies and let the rain pelt her face for a moment. God, give me direction. She tilted her head down. “Mom, you and Dad check the gardens. Jasper, you look around the graveyard. Check behind the tombstones, too.” She turned to Hogan. “There are thousands of acres here, and she could have gone in any one of ten directions.” She thought for a moment. “You and I will check down by the river.”

  A look of sheer horror covered Hogan’s face. “The river?”

  “It’s the farthest away from here. She couldn’t have possibly made it there, but we’ve got to look.”

  He nodded and closed his eyes. “She’s never been around water like that.” He opened his eyes. “She can’t swim.”

  Jenna touched his hand and closed her eyes. God, protect that little angel.

  “Miss Jenna,” Amberlee called from the porch. “I found it.” She rang the bell in her hand.

  Jenna dashed up the stairs, took it and returned. “Ready?” she asked Hogan.

  They all took off again in different directions.

  The rain beat the trees and bushes around them. The wind whirled the water in circles.

  The storm was growing fiercer, and the skies were nearly black.

  They both called out Savannah’s name, but it seemed lost atop the low howl of the wind.

  The bell. Jenna rang the bell, and she could hear the peel of it over the low hum of the wind. Savannah would hear it over their voices, so she kept ringing it. Jenna rang it as fast as she could, and then she would give it a break. She wanted the sound of it to break Savannah out of her reverie—if she ever heard it.

  More gusts blew as they made their way down the lane that led to the dock. It was steady now, blowing straight against them. Walking was becoming more difficult. It wouldn’t be long before they’d have to hold onto trees and bushes to keep from being blown down.

  That little angel didn’t stand a chance against the monster storm.

  As they walked as briskly as they could, Hogan looked down at her. Sheer fear was in his eyes.

  Sheer fear was in her heart.

  “Let me hold the bell,” he said as he limped as fast as he could. Water dripped off his face.

  She handed it to him, and he grabbed her right hand and nearly trotted with her, holding the bell in the air as he rang it intermittently, occasionally calling the little girl’s name.

  The lead color from the skies settled in all around them under the huge old oaks that covered the sandy lane that had been turned into a shallow river by the storm. She heard limbs cracking amongst the trees all about them.

  And then she heard the first thud. She knew what it was. The water had loosened the ground around the tenuous hold a tree had on the ground. The strong winds had used the canopy as a sail and had blown the monster over.

  And then another one.

  Terror gripped her heart. Hogan gripped her hand.

  God, I pray your protection around that precious little girl. I pray for Your Divine Guidance to find her. Send me to her, oh, Lord. Turn this storm into good.

  They were almost through the shadowy tunnel of trees when she saw an eerie, almost amber-colored light up ahead, hazy and almost orange with purpled streaks.

  The place she’d lost her brother.

  She dropped Hogan’s hand and ran with everything inside her toward the dock.

  When she got to the clearing where the old oak overhung the dock, she saw her.

  Savannah.

  The little girl was standing on the edge of the dock, holding onto one of the posts that had been driven deep into the river bed below.

  The river was churning like the cane juice in the old syrup kettle when Jasper used to stir it with a paddle to make syrup.

  All behind her she heard trees dropping…boom…boom…boom. Nothing fazed the little girl, and at this point Jenna didn’t want them to. She wanted the child to hang onto that post for dear life like she was doing.

  Jenna put her hand behind her to stop Hogan. She turned to him. “Wait until I reach her, then ring the bell. I don’t want her to startle and fall into the
river. I’ve never seen it like this before.”

  He nodded. His body froze in fear for his little girl.

  Jenna quietly walked up to the little girl who gripped the post with all her might. Rain washed over the small figure like a flood.

  When she leaned over to the child, she heard the bell peal like she’d never heard it before.

  Savannah turned and grabbed her neck, latching onto it like she’d never let go. The dock swayed and creaked beneath them.

  Jenna ducked over the little girl and ran down the undulating length of dock and then off it. And then the most unearthly sound filled the air.

  The waters from the river swooshed from under the pier, taking the boards and pilings with it. She made it to Hogan, and he grabbed them, pulling them to the ground to escape being sucked into the wind.

  They buried their heads together, Hogan’s strong arms covering them both.

  God help us.

  That was all she could pray. That was all she could think. That was the only thing that mattered. Ever.

  Hogan clutched her even tighter. “Jenna, I have everything that’s important to me in my arms.” His throat closed around his words, and his hand closed even harder around her.

  The wind howled, and the rain stung them with sharp slices of water.

  “If…we make it out of this, I want to spend the rest of my life with you two in my arms,” he said as he moved his hand down to hers and moved the ring he’d placed on her finger.

  Her heart was covered by his words, by the warmth of the affection he’d just spoken, by the protection they portended. But it wasn’t her heart that she feared for any longer.

  She was afraid of the monster storm that surrounded them, afraid to even look up. The wind. The water. The low growls of the creaking dock. The dark glow of low light. The very ground beneath them seemed to tremble.

  Her insides turned over. This was the end.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I pressed my father's hand and told him I would protect his grave with my life. My father smiled and passed away to the spirit land.”

  ~ Chief Joseph

  When the tumult subsided, Jenna moved. They were all soaked through and through.

  If what she thought was happening was happening, they didn’t have long to make it back to the main house.

  She uncurled from Hogan’s arm and looked toward the river.

  In all amazement, she stared.

  She couldn’t believe what she was beholding.

  Nearly all the water had been sucked out of the river.

  But beyond that, in the middle of the widest part of the ancient waterway, was a ship—an old, broken ship.

  She struggled to read the words on the mostly rotted boards that clung to a piece of the ship. Heavens to Betsy.

  The Amberjack.

  Her heart leapt inside her.

  “What the—” Hogan started.

  “It’s the pressure effect. I’ve heard about this before, but I’ve never seen it. It’s when the water is pulled out to sea, like in a tsunami before the waves come,” she said.

  All the water had been sucked out by some ungodly force of nature toward the Atlantic, to bulge under the low pressure of the eye as the storm churned just off the Atlantic coast.

  “Yeah. I’ve heard of it, too. It’s caused by a tidal seiche. Some call them a backward tidal surge or a negative storm surge. Like what happened when Hurricane Irma ravaged the Bahamas.”

  They stood to get a better look.

  “But what’s that?” he asked as he pointed to a large barrel-shaped object about twenty-five feet from the end of where the dock had once been.

  Jenna focused on the object, covered in mud and…sort of orange in color…not exactly orange…it was…amber-colored.

  And there were at least fifty of them scattered all about the river bed all around the broken ship. The Amberjack had been filled with barrels, just like Amberlee and Jasper had told her.

  Hogan grabbed her hand. “If what I think is about to happen, we don’t have much time. We’ve got to make it to the main house before it all comes back. If the eye pushes the water, this whole place will be flooded shortly.”

  He picked up his little girl, and they began to run as best they could.

  Jenna looked back and could still see what the storm had uncovered. Were all the rumors true? Could there be a fortune sealed in all those casks? Could her ancestral Grandfather Henri’s second will be encased in one of those barrels? Sealed tightly for over two hundred years in an old rosin-filled cask? Perfectly preserved like a pre-historic insect in amber. Just beyond the dock?

  Jenna was nearly out of breath when they reached the old plantation house. They flew up the back steps and into the kitchen where everyone was waiting.

  Jenna’s mother and father ran to her and embraced her.

  “Thank God you’re safe, sweetheart.” Her mother said, brushing the wet hair away from her face.

  Her father took her in his arms and simply cried. “I’m so sorry,” he said. His words seemed to have been spoken for more than what had just happened today.

  Amberlee and Jasper waited behind them to take their turns at hugging her.

  “Oh, honey, you done give Amberlee the biggest scare of her life,” she said.

  Jasper took her hands in his dark, withered ones. He whispered in her ear. “I thought I done lost my little snake handler.”

  They giggled together.

  “Well, I hope I’ve found you a new little helper. She loves the outdoors. And escapes to it every chance she gets,” Jenna said and reached over to push the blond hair out of the little girl’s face, still nestled against her father.

  Jenna introduced her to her family, even though she knew Savannah wouldn’t react. She was never going to give up on the little girl. She’d heard about cases where autistic children simply took in the words and sounds and hoarded them until the time was right—until they were ready to use them.

  She was going to gift the little angel with all the words she had, and Savannah could hoard all she wanted for as long as she wanted.

  Amberlee was having a hard time standing, so she sat at the round antique table in the middle of the kitchen. The lights flickered, and they heard another tree go down. Then they were without power.

  Jasper got up. “I’ll light some of these here candles we set out on the table.” He pulled out an old school lighter he kept in his pocket to set fires in the syrup kettle. Soon, a soft glow surrounded them all.

  The wind picked up even more and howled against the old bowed glass in the ancient windows.

  “Hogan, you and Jenna take a seat. I’ll get two more from the dining room, and you can tell us what happened.” Her father left.

  “I’ll cut us all some of that delicious pie Amberlee made for our hurricane party.” Her mother always called hunkering down during a storm a hurricane party. As a little girl, it made the…occasion…less scary. When she grew up, she realized what her mother was doing. Protecting her. It had worked back then.

  Her father returned with the chairs and placed them around the table.

  “I have sweet tea and ice in the cooler,” her mother said. “Would anyone like some?”

  Her father piped in. “Who wouldn’t want something cold after all we’ve been through? I’ll make some for everyone.”

  Her father filled seven red plastic cups with ice and then poured sweet tea from a jug into each one. Jenna watched, a little shocked that he’d not gone for the bar in the dining room. The day must have really had him rattled.

  Her mother placed the pie in front of each person and sat.

  “Where was she?” her father asked.

  Jenna touched the little girl. “On the dock.”

  They gasped in unison.

  “Well, what used to be the dock,” she said.

  “What do you mean?” her mother asked, her face covered in worry.

  “You’re not going to believe what happened.” Jenna sat up
straight. “It was a reverse storm surge. The water was pushed out by the wind and the low pressure in the eye. I could almost hear some kind of weird sound. Logs and things in the water pushed against everything, against the dock.” She paused. “The dock is gone.”

  Her mother closed her eyes and shook her head. “There’s nothing left to rebuild…repair.” A tear leaked from her eye. “I’m just glad you found Savannah in time.” She inhaled. “Your cousin can rebuild it after he inherits. I’m sure he will.”

  Jenna looked at Jasper. He winked at her.

  Her father shook his head. “Of course we have the wind insurance, but we had to drop the flood insurance a few years ago because of the premiums.”

  “I may be mistaken, but I don’t think Dudley is going to inherit anything. At least not from this plantation,” Jenna said.

  “Oh, sweetie, I think we’ve been hopeful for too long,” her mother said

  Rain made thunderous noises on the roof above them. The wind screamed outside.

  “Momma, I finally sent Mr. Smithers a new Letter of Intent.”

  Her mother patted her hand. “I appreciate that dear, but we can’t keep putting off the inevitable. We need to accept our fate.”

  Her mother had no idea how their fate had probably just changed with what she’d seen in that river. The rain sheeted over the outside of the window like a waterfall.

  “I believe in something more than fate, Mother. I believe in blessings and in hard work.” She patted the little girl on her back. To Jenna’s surprise, Savannah leaned over for Jenna to hold her. Of course she obliged. Oh, how sweet it was to cradle that little angel in her arms.

  Jenna raised her glass of tea. “How do you like this tea, Jasper?”

  “Oh, Miss Jenna, I think we can do better.” He caught what he said. “Oh, Miss Debbi-do, I didn’t mean about how you made it.” He looked to Jenna for help.

  “I agree, Jasper. I think what we’re planning to grow on this plantation to support it is going to be way better,” Jenna said.

  “Tea?” her mother asked. “You are going to grow tea to sustain the plantation?” A huge smile covered her face.

  “That’s interesting. My brother and I have a few acres—” Hogan started.