by Gina Watson
When the pills fell from Ruth’s hand and she grabbed her chest, Eve called 911 from the landline, thanking God when that call did go through. The operator dispatched a rescue crew and told Eve that Ruth could take another nitro pill in five minutes and a third five minutes after that, if necessary.
Beyond that, Eve felt helpless, not knowing what to do for Ruth. The wind and rain were picking up, and the anxiety gave Eve a most horrible thought—what if Ruth were to die tonight, right there in her chair? God, Eve prayed the paramedics would be able to reach them in time. She couldn’t see how they could even make it through the streets with the flooding, but she hoped.
She sat next to Ruth and held her hand. She read Ruth’s favorite, Jane Austen, from her e-reader. They’d made it through three chapters of Emma before Eve jumped to her feet when someone pounded at the door.
“Baton Rouge Fire Department.” The booming masculine voice rang through the house.
“Thank God.” Eve pressed her hand to her chest as she ran to the dimly lit entry and opened the door, ushering them in.
A behemoth of a man towered over her by at least a foot.
“Evening. I’m Clay.” He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “This is Jack. He’s a paramedic.”
She knew this man. Clay. “Hey, it’s you. From the deli.”
His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t evacuate?”
“I couldn’t.”
She led them to Ruth. “This is Ruth Howard. She had two nitro pills about thirty-five minutes ago, but she didn’t want to take more.”
The smaller one, Jack, approached Ruth, who was still short of breath and incapable of speech. He made eye contact with Eve and asked, “What happened?”
She related the events and explained about Ruth’s pacemaker. He ran vitals on her, or at least that’s what Eve thought he was doing as he checked her pupils, pulse, and breathing. He hooked up her oxygen tank and when he was finished he looked up at the giant and said, “For the pacemaker, I’ve got to go back to the truck for supplies. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
Eve placed her hand on the armrest and knelt so she could look into Ruth’s face. “Jack has to get something that’s going to help you; he’ll be back soon.” Ruth responded with a lethargic nod. Eve smiled at her and swept a loose curl behind her ear. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, child. Thank you.” She cupped Eve’s cheek when she couldn’t say any more.
Ruth kept her home quite warm, and Eve suspected that was why Clay had removed his raingear. She openly gawked at him, like she did the first time they’d met. Only this time she got a much better look. He looked like the men in the fire department calendar she’d purchased at a charity drive. The navy-blue fire department T-shirt he wore pulled snug over his chest and shoulders. It seemed to Eve that the shirt would rip if he exerted any effort whatsoever. His arms were bronzed and heavily veined, and her eyes followed his form to where his back and shoulders flared into a V. Her eyes connected with his—a striking ice blue—and she gasped. His pupils seemed to be liquid and churning in a way similar to the raging storm outside.
His eyes resembled the radar images of the spinning hurricane with their white and cloudy inner ring and blue outer ring. He was closely shaven, and his lips were pinched tight. She felt the coiled emotions roiling in him.
Familiar with emotional men and their abuse, Eve had a keen sense of other people’s emotions, especially when they were trying to restrain them, but even as large as he was, she knew she could never be afraid him; this man wasn’t one who hurt others. That sure knowledge was evident in the way his eyes pleaded with her, as if he secretly wanted to be the one saved.
She tossed away her fanciful thought when he cleared his throat and said, “This is irresponsible.” He pointed around the room with his index finger. “You should have evacuated. If we couldn’t get to you, she could’ve died. And we’re still not yet in the clear.”
His voice was harsh and loud. Reflexively Eve cringed, old habits and all, but then she fought to straighten her back and stood her ground. She walked up to the giant and attempted to pull him into the other room away from Ruth. She couldn’t budge him, but he willingly followed her lead after a moment.
How insensitive could one man be, to mention death in front of an obviously ailing woman? Eve met him with an angry whisper.
“Keep your voice down; what if she’d heard you?” Eve stretched her neck and stood on her tiptoes to look around Clay and back into the room where Ruth sat in her chair, oblivious. “You’re very thoughtless. I thought rescue workers and firefighters were supposed to keep people calm.”
His forehead wrinkled. He leaned forward, into her, and said, “We’re also trained to recognize when people put themselves in harmful situations.”
At least his voice was quieter. But that attitude…
He fisted his hands and crossed his arms, causing his biceps to bulge. She envisioned one of those fists flying and she flinched; that blow would be the end of whoever was on the receiving end. Studying him again, she innately knew he’d never thrown a punch at a woman. Her instincts were good, so she knew she was right. There had always been something in her gut that told her Nicolas was dangerous. Too bad she hadn’t listened to those instincts the first time they’d gnawed at her.
She shook off the thoughts from her past—she had enough problems in the present to worry about.
“I couldn’t just leave her. Her son was supposed to come get her, but coming from the north, he apparently couldn’t get through the traffic.” She shrugged. “We haven’t heard from him in a few hours.”
“Mrs. Howard isn’t your mother?”
Eve tilted her head to see his eyes better. “No, I live next door.”
The front door slammed open and banged against a console table behind it. Jack was drenched.
“Water’s knee deep out there.” He carried two plastic cases.
“Oh goodness.” Eve ran to the bathroom and returned to the den with several towels.
Jack toweled off, at the same time pulling what looked like an electronic tablet from a case and thumbed it on. Eve and Clay watched him wave the machine over Ruth’s chest. He held it in his hand and used the touch-screen features. Shaking his head, he said, “The settings are off. I’m going to need to reset the pacemaker.” He looked to Eve. “Do you have any more of those nitro pills?”
Eve went down to her knees and started digging through the carpet. Clay stood behind her, grumbling, and she wondered what his problem was. She ran her hands through the thick shag. “Here’s one.” She handed the pill to Jack. “She dropped them earlier.”
Jack reset the pacemaker without needing the pills, which he said was good in case she needed them for later. Eve found three more in the carpet and a few in the folds of Ruth’s sweater.
Clay pulled on his gear and turned to Eve. “I need to speak with you.”
His brow was raised. Sensing the conversation needed to remain between them, she led him into the foyer.
“We can drop you at the local shelter; you’ll be safe there. I don’t need to tell you that these houses back up to a major bayou.” His demeanor changed for a fleeting second. His eyes glazed over and he was no longer there in the present. “Even if you move to higher ground, the attic, the roof, you will drown, the current will wash all of this away.” He wasn’t moving. He just stood in a trance, eyes unblinking. Thinking of the past she guessed but she didn’t like what she was hearing. She wanted to bring him back from that place but she didn’t know how.
She placed her hand on his forearm. “Sir.”
His head jerked toward her voice. He picked up his equipment. “With the water rising, it’s not safe here.”
“What about Mrs. Howard?”
He looked down, swallowed, and then lifted his head to meet her gaze with a grimace. “Our vehicle can’t get to her—water’s already too high. We’d stall.” He pulled the handles on his boots and they extended another six inches.
” I won’t stop trying to get to her, but I can’t risk the engines; we’re gonna need them when this all blows over.”
Eve placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward so only Clay could hear her harsh whisper. “Are you suggesting I leave her alone here?”
He straightened and leaned away from her. “No, I’m just telling you the facts. Power company’s about to cut the electric too.”
Frantic, Eve shook her head. “What? Why would they do that?”
“For safety. Water and power lines don’t mix well.” He zipped up his heavy jacket. “It’s your last chance. Do you want to go to the shelter?”
Eve closed her eyes, amazed at his insensitivity for the second time. “No. I won’t leave her here to die alone like an animal.”
Clay groaned at her words. He held up his hands, surrender style, and she fought back a flinch.
“Fine, stay here. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He turned to Jack. “Ready.”
Eve was outraged at his cavalier attitude—he would have her leave Ruth alone. But he was a firefighter; didn’t they all abide by some creed? And what about her instincts? She was so sure he wouldn’t allow a woman to come to harm.
The door was almost shut, but then it opened again and the beast came through it. He walked right up to her, his gaze intense. “I’ll see what I can do to get back here. Sheriff’s got a vehicle that might be able to do it; I’ll try to figure something out.” He turned and was gone, leaving a quiet and humble Eve standing in the foyer.
After taking a few deep breaths, she returned to the den to sit with Ruth. The incessant nattering from the television lulled Eve to that state just before sleep. Sudden and loud booming explosions had her jumping up, and then the lights dimmed, slowly going dark. Once the black settled in, Eve became alarmed. Without the sound from the television to muffle the outside noise, they could hear the storm’s wrath. And it sounded intensely angry.
Huge oaks creaked as wind exploded through the branches and leaves. The tree in the front yard had limbs that stretched over the house, and every now and then something hard landed on the roof. The winds howled, and the house rumbled beneath them. It sounded as if rocks were continuously slamming into the windows and panes.
Perhaps the eeriest effect was the inner doors of the house slowly swaying back and forth. She couldn’t understand their motion because she didn’t feel any air circulating. Even if there were a fan or air conditioner blowing, the doors had never moved before; they were too heavy.
When the wind rushed through the eaves of the house, the result was a horrible rattle that sounded like rodents scurrying across the roof. Eve wanted to ask Ruth if she knew what each of the sounds meant, but she didn’t want to cause the woman more distress, and so her questions remained unspoken.
As she sat riding out the storm with her neighbor, Eve thought there was a good chance they might die.
Fate was a funny thing. She’d escaped her abusive husband, who surely would have killed her and still would, were he to find her. But she’d only escaped him to die in a storm. At least she would die by natural causes and not at the hands of another human.
Minutes passed with no way to know how many. Thank heavens Ruth had fallen asleep. Eerie noises were taking their toll on Eve, and she was in no mood to continue to be motivating and reassuring. Hell, she wasn’t sure they’d even survive—she doubted she’d convince anyone else that they would. Rain and debris relentlessly pelted the house and windows, nearly driving her crazy. Thank heavens she had them set up in the den where there were no windows. She hadn’t done it intentionally, but now she was utterly relieved. Like a child afraid to face monsters in a dark bedroom, she didn’t want to see what was happening outside. She prayed for the safety of those caught out in the turbulent elements.
A huge crash from the living room woke Ruth, and had Eve clutching at her chest.
“Wait here,” Eve said. It wasn’t as if Ruth could go with her to check out the noise, but it made Eve feel better to talk to someone.
She gasped when she shined the flashlight into the living room. A huge branch had crashed through the bay window, pulling down the curtains and crushing the couch. She wondered what to do now. Water was pouring in faster than she imagined possible. The rain was actually coming in diagonally. The smell of wet, musty wood and carpet told her the room and everything in it was already drenched and there was no use moving anything to cover the window’s three panels. Plus she would never be able to move the huge limb out of the way.
She told a worried Ruth that it was nothing, just a small limb that had punctured a window. She needed to keep the woman calm. In the den, she sat in the recliner nearest the hall so she could keep an eye on what was going on in the living room. She thought reading might keep her and Ruth calm, but the truth of it was that she felt far from calm and she knew she wouldn’t be able to focus on reading. They had one flashlight between the two of them—three sat on the table in her own kitchen, but no way would she try to retrieve them—so she lit a candle on the coffee table to save the batteries. They sat and listened to the storm for what seemed like hours. Her heart raced and she held her breath with every creak of a tree, every rumble, every rustle. So many sounds pelted her senses that she eventually sat dazed, focusing on the swirling vortex around her. When it quieted almost instantly, she shook herself, not understanding what had happened.
She took a deep breath. She could breathe again.
She walked toward the living room, and her bare feet met water. She looked to the window, but couldn’t see anything in the darkness. She went back for the candle, then turned and followed the water down the hallway. It got higher as she made her way deeper into the house. It was up to midcalf now. She opened the back door and heard rushing water, but she couldn’t see anything. Holding the candle out as far as she could, she peered into the darkness. Then she inhaled a gasp. What she saw froze her and had her shivering at the same time.
The bayou that was usually more than a hundred yards from the house was pushing at the back door.
Trembling, she closed the door. She knew there was no use looking out the front of the house. The street had been flooded before the storm even got started. She walked in and sat next to Ruth. Possible solutions pelted her thoughts. The storm was over, so at least that was something. She hadn’t lived in the area very long and didn’t know much about drainage. But she did know that whenever stats of the flooded bayous were related on the news, those stats always rose after the storm. Eve had thought that was strange since the storm had ended, but with that information in her head, she wondered what that might mean for her and Ruth.
She stood to get her cellphone. “I’m going to see if I can reach anyone.”
She dialed 911. The circuits were busy or down—whatever the situation, the call didn’t go through. Sheer desperation had her dialing Don Howard from the landline. The result was the same. She knew the neighborhood had evacuated, but she wondered if anyone had ignored the evacuation order and if she should leave Ruth and go in search of help. She thought about the large brusque fireman who’d come earlier. She wondered if he’d even give them another thought. Closing her eyes, she saw him standing before her, conflicted, eyes churning like the storm. She inhaled deep and slow and decided she would at least wait until daybreak before going in search of help so that Ruth wouldn’t be left alone in the dark.
***
6
As more of the storm made landfall, conditions worsened. The mayor called off all rescues for the time being. The firefighters and paramedics were hunkered down in the firehouse to ride out the storm.
Clay couldn’t stop thinking of the old woman and the girl.
She’d flinched when he’d shifted his weight and crossed his arms—he knew she had. Had she been afraid of him? The notion bothered him. He wouldn’t hurt a woman—God, he was in the business of rescuing people.
It had been hard for him to ignore her beauty. Hers wasn’t the kind o
f pretty one got to see every day. She had long, yellow-blond glossy curls, pewter-gray eyes, and the kind of mouth that drove him crazy. Her lips were puffy clouds—light pink clouds—that had never seemed to meet but stayed parted to reveal the white teeth within her mouth. She had a little button nose and God, he hadn’t wanted to blatantly stare at her chest, but it was huge and her breasts naturally shaped—they’d be soft and pliable. When she’d cleared her throat at him, Clay thought he’d been caught red-handed, but he’d lucked out. Still, she should change her wardrobe choices if she didn’t want to attract stares. He didn’t think she’d been wearing a bra but was comfortable in a soft and very thin white tank top with another loose top over it. The knit shorts she wore were, in his opinion, too short. Of course, she’d been inside, not flaunting herself, but still…
And she’d been brazenly checking him out too. Given her gasp, she seemed to have liked what she saw. Clay was used to being scoped, but he’d been shocked that she would rather check him out than take care of her sick mother. Of course, the woman wasn’t her mother and now that Clay thought about it, she seemed no more than twenty-five while the woman was clearly in her eighties. He’d been wrong about the girl. She’d sacrificed her needs and safety to stay with her infirm neighbor. That wasn’t something just anybody would do. Hell, it wasn’t anything even a handful of people would do. She’d even remained brave and chose to stay behind when he’d related the dire stats. She’d demonstrated more courage than most of the men he worked with.
Reports coming in over the radio were not good—bayou and street flooding were delaying rescues. One report mentioned Simms Bayou and how it had already passed the record set for the last hurricane. Clay’s chest tightened; at those levels, some houses would be under water. He’d seen it so many times before, families driven higher and higher until they were forced to await recuse on the roofs of their homes. Many times the rescue never came. He grunted when he thought of the yellow-haired beauty with the expressive gray eyes and Mrs. Howard making their way to the roof.