Restless Storm

by Jamie Summer

  I couldn’t believe it. They were denying me a place to stay? A bed?

  You live close enough, my mind scolded. I cursed under my breath.

  “I’m truly sorry. I wish there were something I could do to change it, but those are the rules.”

  I wanted to yell, to scream at the unfairness of it all, but I did none of it. Instead, I stayed silent. Somewhere in the back of my conscience, I knew she needed to follow guidelines.

  “Can I come back once everyone has checked in?” I asked, desperately grasping at every straw I could possibly find. There was no way I was going home. No way. I didn’t care how bad it was going to get here. I needed to stay as close to Jake, and everyone else, as I could.

  “Sure, but I can't make you any promises.”

  I nodded, thanked her, and walked off, letting the couple behind me go next. I overheard them telling her how they lived on the island and couldn’t bear to stay there with such a catastrophe on the horizon. I hated to admit it, but I knew those were the people who needed the shelter.

  I returned to the bar and ordered a beer. Anything to take the edge off what was starting to make itself known.

  I tried not to think about the horrible things that could happen to Jake.

  I tried not to imagine Anna and Grace tangled up in the mass of the ocean.

  I tried…failing miserably.

  The images were always present, looming just under the surface, ready to hit me at a weak moment.

  “Drinking so early?” the bartender—the same one who had fed my food addiction earlier—asked. I gave him a poignant stare toward the outside. The clouds had started thickening and soft rain began to fall.

  “Are you questioning my judgment?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Another one?” I nodded, not even realizing how I had finished the small glass of beer in probably only ten seconds. He walked off and I watched him draw from the tap. Within a minute, he was back, putting the golden goodness in front of me. I grew up on an island surrounded by guys who drank beer. No one could blame me for my drink of choice.

  “Why are you back so quickly? Didn’t you want to go and get a bed for the night?”

  “I found out they don’t give beds to people who already have one,” I explained, taking a sip of my beer.

  He stopped cleaning the glass in his hands and looked at me. “You asked for a bed even though you have one? Yep, I can see the issue there.”

  “What? I mean, yes, I can, too.”

  “Why not go home? You’d be much safer there.”

  “My home is still five hours away. Anyway, everyone I love is on that island. My whole heart is there. I just got them back. I’m not ready to lose them again. I can’t—” I stopped. The tears formed so suddenly, I couldn’t keep them in.

  The guy watched me, an uneasy expression clouding his face. It was clear dealing with emotional women wasn’t his forte, despite where he worked. Even in my crying haze, I found myself thinking I couldn’t be the first one to break down on him.

  I wiped the tears away hastily, forcing down any still threatening to come out. “I need to be here for them. I need to make sure I’m on the first boat out there.”

  “It may not be for weeks, depending on how much damage the storm does. Weeks,” he repeated, and I nodded. I was well aware.

  “It doesn’t make a difference. If I don’t get a bed here, it’s okay. I’ll just… Well, I actually don’t know what I’ll do, but I won’t return home.”

  He seemed to sense the finality in my voice because he nodded and went back to cleaning glasses, leaving me alone with my thoughts. A dangerous thing to do.

  From where I sat, I was able to see the ocean, the looming darkness getting worse with each passing second. The rain had gotten heavier, huge raindrops hitting the windows in rapid succession.

  I watched people board buses, having no idea how long they would still do that with the impending storm—granted, on a much smaller scale—on the horizon.

  The door opened, the bell above it ringing throughout the bar. It hadn’t been as crowded when I came back, but a little over half the tables were still filled with people having an afternoon drink.

  “I’m looking for a Madeleine Core.”

  I turned around, seeing the woman who had refused me shelter earlier. It had barely been twenty minutes since I walked away from her.

  “Over here,” I called.

  She caught sight of me, tiptoeing over on her red heels. I hadn’t had a chance to look at her attire earlier, but she looked way out of place. Her black pencil skirt and white blouse, paired with the red heels, weren’t something you saw in a fisher town like this one.

  “Hi there,” she greeted me.

  “Hi,” I replied and watched her sit down on the empty stool next to me.

  “I’m sorry if I was a little rude earlier. Even if I would have wanted to, I couldn’t have given you a place. We needed to—”

  “I know. It’s okay,” I interrupted.

  “Well, technically, it is, but it’s truly not. I know what it’s like to not want to leave your loved ones behind.” I waited for her to elaborate, but when she didn’t, I turned and downed about a quarter of my beer. I was suddenly thirsty. “What I came here to tell you is that we have a few leftover beds. Or I’d be happy to offer you a place to stay at my house.”

  I stared at her, unable to comprehend the words she spoke. “What?”

  “I honestly don’t care about rules as much as I pretended to. I want people in this town to know we don’t turn away strangers when they are stranded. I want them to remember we’re a community who helps one another. I know you can’t…won’t leave—” I shook my head to prove her point before she went on, “so the offer stands. I have a guest bedroom I was planning on offering up anyway, so why not to you? Someone who clearly cares about the people on Crystal Cove?”

  I stared at her in shock. I hadn’t expected anything like this.

  “It’s not gonna be luxurious or anything, but it’s—”

  “I’d love to,” I quickly said, almost stumbling over my own words. The woman smiled and nodded.

  “Perfect. I had hoped you would say that. My shift is over. I need to finish up some last-minute things but wanted to make sure I caught you. I saw you go in here and…” She waved her hand through the air. “Well, anyway, I’ll be back to get you in, say, twenty minutes?”

  I pointed at my beer and answered. “I’ll be here.”

  She gave me a smile, then left.

  “Some things work out by themselves,” the bartender said from behind me. I nodded. Sometimes they really did.

  She picked me up half an hour later. I had finished my beer and was ready by the time she came. We talked a bit on the way over to her place—about a ten-minute walk from the bar—and besides me learning Kendall was only five years older than me, she updated me on the progress of the storm.

  As far as she had heard, it had started to rain heavily and the wind had picked up, but they still had communication to the island, so that was a good sign. They didn’t know how long it would last, though. The worst was supposed to hit in the early morning hours, and the thought of everyone caught in the storm made my stomach churn and the beer I drank threaten to come up again.

  “I told Mike, the guy I work with, to keep me updated during his shift if he hears about any changes,” she told me. I thanked her. I knew she didn’t have to do that, but she was willing to go the extra mile for a complete stranger.

  When we arrived at her small condo, she showed me the lovely guest bedroom. The condo—a tiny three-bedroom place—was occupied by her and her cat, a huge feline that curled around my feet the moment I stepped inside. I stroked the animal’s back as I put down the small bag I had brought. The plastic tote containing everything from my father’s house was locked away in a box at the Coast Guard. They had graciously offered to take care of that while I figured out my living situation.

  Kendall offered to make some dinner, but I
assured her I had eaten plenty at the bar. We agreed on some TV. I joined her on the cozy and very comfortable couch for some chick flick.

  We didn’t talk, but that was okay. I kept my mind busy watching, trying to ignore the howling outside. It had gotten worse with every minute, the trees swaying from side to side in the wind. I couldn’t see much in the darkness, but I heard the force of nature outside these walls. It was enough to make a shiver run down my spine.

  If it is already this bad on the mainland, how bad is it on the island right now? Is the shelter holding? Are they safe?

  With every burst of heavy rain and wind pushing against Kendall’s windows, I got more agitated.

  “Whiskey?” Kendall asked. I glanced up at her as she stood, looking down at me expectantly.

  “Do you have tequila?”

  She laughed. “I most certainly do. Give me a second.” She vanished into the kitchen. I heard her rummaging through the cupboards, then a door opened and closed. Eventually, she returned, two shot glasses filled with a clear liquid in her hands. She handed me one and sat down on the seat she had vacated.

  “To knowing everyone will be safe.” She looked me straight in the eyes as she said it, willing me to believe her.

  And I wanted to. We clinked glasses and I took a sip, letting the liquid burn down my throat. I reveled in the taste, welcoming the sensations. Kendall didn't say anything else, and I appreciated her not wanting to fill the silence with unnecessary chatter. I couldn’t deal with it now. The only words I wanted to hear were that the storm had passed Crystal Cove and everyone was okay.

  It was all that mattered to me.

  Her friend, Mike, called around ten p.m. to inform her the storm had hit the island. After relaying the information and seeing my face, Kendall poured me another shot.

  I barely felt the liquid go down this time. All I could see were Jake, Anna, Grace…everybody at the mercy of the great wide ocean and Mother Nature. And there was nothing they could do about it.

  Kendall turned the TV a little louder, and while I wanted to drown out my own thoughts with it, it didn’t work. The gnawing worry within me, along with the sickening feeling in my stomach, wasn’t anything a funny movie could take away.

  Nothing could.

  My nerves were shot, while my body was set on high alert. Exhaustion settled within me, yet every nerve ending in my body stood at attention, feeling as if they would ignite and make everything combust.

  I eventually got up and walked around. If I stayed seated a moment longer, I would’ve gone crazy. Kendall merely watched me, concern written all over her face. I had no idea what to say because there was nothing she could do to help.

  All we could do was wait.

  Waiting was the last thing I wanted to do.

  Waiting was the last thing I was good at.

  I glanced at the clock. Barely past midnight. At least nine more hours until I would know anything for sure. At least that was what Mike said. He mentioned if it worked like they thought, the worst of the storm should pass Crystal Cove in the morning. But even after the storm passed, there was no way of telling if the radio would work. If we could get in touch with the island.

  “I think the Coast Guard will have a ship ready so they can see the damage for themselves,” Kendall whispered as she joined me by her front door. I had migrated there at some point and opened it, enjoying the cold wind. The rain was still going strong, but she had a small porch that was big enough for two people to comfortably sit on.

  “I hope so,” I replied, my mind far away. I remembered one of the many times Jake and I had gone down to the beach and spent the evening there. We didn’t do much except talk. It was hours before we returned home, and I recalled the look my dad gave me when I walked through the door. It was a mixture of anger and pride, as if he wasn’t sure if he should scold me for being out so long or be proud I finally started to go out more in the first place.

  “Do you want to talk about the people on the island you care so much about?”

  I turned my head toward Kendall, my brows furrowing in confusion.

  “I noticed it helps when you talk about them to someone who has no idea who they are. Just, well…anything. No judgment. Tell me stories—funny or sad. It doesn’t matter.”

  I had nothing better to do, so I started to talk.

  About Anna. About Grace. About Betty. George.

  About my dad and his death.

  About Jake.

  I told her my life story and she didn’t even bat an eye. She listened attentively, asked all the right questions, and never made me feel as if I needed to filter what I said. The ache within me came and went, like the ebb and flow of the ocean. While it hurt to tell her about everyone, it also soothed something inside me, exactly like she had said it would.

  Kendall smiled and cried with me, hugged me when I needed it, and managed to make hours pass without me noticing. I knew I would never be able to repay her for everything. For giving me a place to stay. For how she made me focus on something other than the doom looming over my home, over the people I loved.

  At some point, the rain let up, and while the clouds never cleared, the darkness they brought started to give way to a white horizon. Kendall and I held our coffee—she had gone inside at some point and made some—as we watched the clouds pass, the early morning sun eventually peeking out.

  It was a small mercy, signaling the new day had started without either one of us getting any sleep. I apologized, but Kendall waved me off, assuring me that, despite the circumstances, this had been one of the best nights in her life. I didn’t believe her, but she wouldn’t budge on her opinion.

  As we sat there, more clouds started to clear, rays of sunlight fighting through. I closed my eyes, basking in the warmth on my cheeks. It was hardly tolerable to sit outside with the cold temperatures, but something about the sun on my cheeks made everything feel less terrible.

  It gave me hope. Hope I didn’t think I still had in me.

  Yet it looked me right in the eye, rising on the edge of the ocean.

  “Let’s get some more coffee and go down to the harbor. It’s time.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded.

  They are fine. They are fine. They are fine. I repeated the mantra a few times before I got up.

  I turned toward the sun, letting the warmth seep into every one of my pores, before I walked inside. I needed to keep the energy. I needed to keep the optimism. I needed to keep believing the ocean didn’t take someone else I loved.

  Someone else I couldn’t live without.

  But reality was never like the movies.

  It was dirty, sad, and without remorse.

  It was a broken record no one was able to fix, a dark abyss swallowing every one of my hopes and dreams.

  It was hell.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jake

  The alarm had long since gone silent. I watched the bright red button in agony, trying to ignore the sacrifices people had made already.

  When it had first gone off two hours ago, Scott and I had run toward the small back entrance, which was barely big enough for a young child to fit, only to find it blocked by sand and rocks. What we didn’t see at first were the toes sticking out from it.

  One of the elderly residents had somehow managed to get in there, but was surprised by the flood of water, drowning in a sea of liquid and sand.

  I shook my head as the images assaulted my brain, burning itself into my memory.

  After checking our numbers another time, Scott sat down next to me. “Everyone’s accounted for. No one else is missing.”

  “How did he slip through the cracks? How did no one notice him missing?” I asked, the question having plagued me for hours.

  “Bart was always a loner. Betty said that while she thought she’d greeted everyone, she hadn’t seen him. Not at breakfast, lunch, dinner… I’m not surprised.”

  I nodded. It wasn’t the first time we had this conversation. We had gone over it r
ight after finding Bart.

  I had no idea why, but I felt as if it was my fault. I should’ve made sure to check numbers, to count, but I hadn’t.

  George and a few others I had talked to assured me I wasn’t to blame, but it didn’t erase the empty feeling in my stomach.

  “How long do you think our reprieve will last?” Scott wanted to know, and I glanced toward the door on the other side of the shelter. Through some miracle, the front door had held up, no other huge waves crashing against it and making it completely fall apart.

  We had already distributed the sandbags throughout the shelter, making sure parts of it would still be dry, should it come to it.

  Surprisingly enough, the mood in the shelter wasn’t as bad as I imagined it would be, despite one death and the fact the storm wasn’t done with us yet. Now that we had a little break from it, some of the fear had left people’s bodies. Betty and Grace, along with several other women and men, also helped. They fed everyone, kept them entertained with stories and songs, or merely made sure they had everything they needed.

  They had been a godsend.

  “I’m not sure, but I think we may have another hour. It’s shortly after two a.m. now, so the second half of the storm should hit us soon. When I say an hour, it could anywhere from ten minutes to two hours. Storms are unpredictable, we established that.”

  Scott nodded as I continued to tie the ropes I held in my hands. I had no idea what I was going to use them for, but it had kept me busy for the last hour. And while I welcomed a break in the storm, I also wished the new wave would arrive sooner rather than later so this whole ordeal could finally be over.

  I wanted to go back to my life. To living above ground.

  We had done a good job of making the shelter feel somewhat homey, but the stone was wet, the cold air seeping through the cracks making my body shiver. We didn’t have a lot of heating devices here, so the longer the storm, the less we would be able to make sure everyone stayed warm.

  Besides that, with every passing minute, I felt the walls close in around us. Several people complained about claustrophobia, but all we were able to tell them was to “sit tight”.