urricane Brendan was gaining power and speed as it set a course directly for the Isle of Palms. Cara tossed and turned most of the night, terrified after an evening of being glued to the weather channel. She awoke groggy and hearing a high whistling in her ear. She groped for her alarm clock, then gasped when she saw it was nearly nine o’clock. How could she have slept so late, she wondered, waking quickly and throwing back her covers? How could it be so dark? Was the power out?

Then she remembered she’d boarded up the windows. For the first time that summer, the birds did not awaken her with their chatter. She slipped into jeans and a T-shirt, aware as she dressed that she’d be wearing these clothes to evacuate the island. That realization sliced fear into her resolve. She chose socks and tennis shoes instead of sandals, and laid out a sweater on the bed along with her purse.

There was a stuffy, closed-in smell in the opaquely lit house and the mood was ominous. She unlocked the porch door and swung it open. A gust of wind laced with biting drops of rain slapped her face. She caught her breath and stared, shocked, at the change in the weather. All trace of blue was erased from the sky to be replaced by a sickly jaundiced hue. Over the ocean, closer now, the looming clouds were a battle gray and the sea threw waves fast and high. In that moment she lost any hope she’d harbored that they were going to escape the punch from this one. She should’ve known. The hurricane was named after some guy. Brendan was shaping up to be another bully, just like Hugo and Andrew.

Everything was aquiver. The red rosebushes were fluttering from their ties to the pergola, throwing petals into the wind. Beyond, the new young palms they’d planted were swaying. The air swirled around her, a strange mixture of warm and cool, humid and icy. Unlike in the Midwest where a tornado spun from the sky without warning, a hurricane gave you plenty of notice to get the hell out of its way.

“Mama! Toy!” she called out. “Wake up! We’ve got to get moving.”

“I’m awake,” Lovie called out from her room.

Cara felt a jolt of adrenaline. She began carrying the rocking chairs and small tables in from the porch at a fevered pace. “Toy!” she called out again, miffed at the silence in both bedrooms. Then it hit her that Toy could be in labor. She set down the basket of hats, making a beeline for Toy’s room. She knocked on the door. “Toy?” She knocked again. When there was no answer, she slowly pushed open the door a crack to peek in.

Even in the dim light she could see that the bed wasn’t slept in. She pushed open the door and flicked on the light. The room was pristine. Toy’s maternity clothes hung neatly in the closet. The topaz ring that Lovie had given her lay in a bowl on the dresser. On the maple bed lay a white envelope.

With her heart in her throat, Cara reached for it and tore it open.,!,!

Dear Miss Lovie and Caretta,

I’ve gone with Darryl to make a family of my own. I’m sorry I had to sneak out like this. I never meant to. I wanted to say goodbye, but the hurricane speeded things up. Darryl was leaving and I promised you I wouldn’t make any trouble.

I can’t thank you enough for all you did for me. I’ll always remember you and the things you taught me. Most of all, I’ll always love you.

Please don’t worry about me and forgive me.

And try to understand.

Love,

Toy Sooner

P.S. I’ll send you pictures of the baby.

Cara stared for a minute at the letter, disbelieving. How could she have done that to them? Now, of all times? Her heart hammered in her chest as she sprinted to Lovie’s room. She found her mother dressed in the same outfit she’d worn the day Cara returned home, only now the denim skirt and white blouse hung loosely from her gaunt frame.

“Mama, Toy’s gone.”

Alarm flickered across Lovie’s face. “What’s that? What do you mean, gone? To the hospital?”

“No. With Darryl!”

Lovie teetered back with her skinny arm out for balance. Cara rushed forward to grasp her, afraid she’d pass out in her weakened state.

“Toy, Toy, Toy,” Lovie keened in distress. “Why would she run off with him, Cara? Why?”

“Because she’s young and she thinks she loves him. Here, sit down and read the letter for yourself while I think of what to do.”

She went to the hall phone to call the police, but the line was dead. Staring at it, a new whip of fear slashed through her. Without a cell phone, they had no connection to the outside world.

“The phone is dead,” she exclaimed, hurrying to Lovie’s room. “I can’t call the police. Even if I could, what would I tell them? We don’t even know Darryl’s last name. Or what kind of car he drives. Mama, we don’t know anything about him except that he’s a creep.”

“She made her decision, Cara,” Lovie said calmly, sadly. She held the letter loose in her lap. “We have to let her go.”

“There’s got to be something we can do.”

“She knows where to find us.”

The front door swung open and they heard Flo’s voice. “Hello! Hello?”

“In here!”

Flo came rushing in wearing a bright-yellow slicker. Her face was frantic. “Thank God you’re still here. I’m trying to shove off but it’s Miranda.”

Lovie rose to rush into her friend’s arms. They gave each other a reassuring hug. “What’s wrong with Miranda? Has she run off again?”

“No, she’s plumb crazy, that’s what she is. She’s crying and fretting about that last nest in front of the house. Says we can’t leave it to get flooded by the hurricane.”

“There are a lot of nests still out there. What does she think we can do?” asked Cara.

“She wants us to move it.”

“What? We can’t do that. It’s against DNR’s rules.”

“Not really,” Lovie spoke up. When they turned her way she said, “The regulations state that the nests can be relocated by a permit holder when there is danger of the nest being destroyed by high tide.”

“Only with permission.” Cara was a stickler for rules. “And not off the beach.”

“Okay, then call Sally for advice,” said Flo.

“The phones are dead.”

“I’ll try my cell phone.”

They waited in a tense silence while Flo tried to reach the Department of Natural Resources offices. But there was no answer, only a recorded message.

“No one’s going to be there,” said Flo, closing her cell phone. “Everyone is getting the heck out of Dodge. As we should. The roads are already backing up.”

Cara’s mind clicked off their options. “Do you think the nest is in mortal danger?”

“No doubt about it,” replied Flo. “At least that one is. The tidal surge will completely flood the area, probably even erode that dune clear away. The other nests…well, they’re farther back. That’s the best we can hope for. Nature has to take its course.”

Cara looked at Lovie. “We can’t reach Sally. What do you want to do, Mama?”

“I don’t know….”

“Mama, it’s a yes or no decision. There’s no going back.”

Lovie lifted her chin. “Yes. But just that one nest. And I’ll be the one to do it. It’s my responsibility,” she said, her eyes flashing a warning that she was not to be argued with. “Y’ all can just keep away.”

While her mother was moving the nest, Cara took the final steps to close up the beach house. While she worked, she kept a close watch on the television for up-to-the-minute reports on the weather and traffic. The front room looked like a warehouse, the porch furniture and clutter stacked in every spare inch of space. The flowerpots and tools she’d locked securely in the shed under the porch so they wouldn’t become flying missiles. Suitcases and plastic bins filled with important papers and photographs were lined up by the door to be carried to the car.

A short honk brought her out to the porch. It was Flo and Miranda and their Buick was packed to the gills. An orange tabby cat stretched out in the back window.

“Just want to say goodbye and give you our travel plans,” called Flo. “The name and number of our motel is in there. Better give me yours, too.”

Cara went to her Saab and scribbled down the name of the motel in Columbia, where she’d made a reservation, and the route she planned on taking.

“Here.” She handed her the information. “We’ll give you a call when we arrive.”

“And the nest?” Miranda asked. She leaned to clench Flo’s arm with birdlike fingers, her pale, cloudy eyes entreating.

“We’re taking care of it, Miranda. Don’t you worry.”

“Aren’t you leaving yet?”

“Almost. I’m still waiting for my mother.”

“You’re what?” asked Flo, aghast. “Don’t tell me she’s still out on the beach!”

“I’m about to go right out and fetch her.”

“Do that! And git! That wind is getting strong and they’ll be closing the bridge before long.” Flo took a last long look at her house. Cara saw the creases of worry and longing carved deep into her tired face. “I wonder if I’ll ever see it again.”

“This can still veer off and miss us,” Cara said, trying to sound reassuring.

Flo tsked loudly and released the emergency brake. “I don’t like this,” she said with a slight tremble in her voice. “Not one little bit.”

“None of us do. Off you go. Drive safe now, hear?”

Toy waited in the front seat of his car as Darryl loaded up the Mustang for the trip west. They’d spent a horrible night on an air mattress in Darryl’s empty apartment. It was so hot and muggy inland that she couldn’t breathe much less sleep. He’d sold the window air conditioner with the rest of his furniture so the only relief from the thick humidity was a creaky, rusty fan whirring back and forth. She couldn’t believe it when his hands started reaching for her. Her with a baby due! A few weeks earlier she might have gritted her teeth and tried to go along with him. But last night her belly had felt as tight as a drum and she was sticky with sweat so she slapped his hand away. Now he was banging things around like a sulking kid. Above them, the sky was swirling gray soup. If they were going to make it out of town, they had to hurry.

Suddenly she felt a pain shudder through her, straight up from her pelvis along her spine, causing her to stiffen and hold her breath. She’d had pains all night long but not like this. When the pain eased and her muscles relaxed, she took a deep breath and glanced at her wristwatch. She’d read that she had to time the pains. She rested her head in her palm and tried to keep her breathing steady, thinking of the ocean as it rolled in and out, in and out. She imagined she was floating under a hot sun when she was hit by another pain, every bit as hard and demanding as the last one. She began whimpering.

Darryl got in the front seat, slammed the door and wiped his brow. “Damn, it’s hot. I’ll be glad to leave this hellhole.” He swung his head around. “Are you cryin’ again? Toy.” He whined the name to make each vowel a syllable. “What’s the matter now?”

“I’m having these pains.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You’re not having the baby now, are you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never had a baby before.”

“But aren’t women supposed to know?”

“I just told you, I don’t know!”

“Take it easy.” He put the key into the ignition and started up the engine. “Maybe they’ll just go away.”

She couldn’t believe he could be so stupid. “I think you should take me to the hospital.”

“Now? But we’re leaving! Shit.”

She could feel her face get red with heat and the fear that another pain was building up like the waves she’d imagined before. She shouted at him, “I’m not having this baby in a car!”

She didn’t know what gave her this maddening strength, but she’d get out of the car and walk to the hospital if he didn’t drive her.

He must have seen something in her eyes because he only muttered, “Okay,” along with a lot of other things she didn’t catch.

As he pulled away from the curb she felt a sudden burst of water leaking between her legs. It was warm and she couldn’t control it. Scared, she started to shriek.

“What? What the hell’s the matter?” Darryl shouted, turning his head and looking at her with a frightened look.

“Something’s happening. I’m leaking!” She tried dabbing at the seat between her legs with her dress but it wasn’t doing much.

Then she remembered reading about how the water always burst before the baby was born and she stilled while relief flooded her. She felt stupid but incredibly excited.

“Oh, my God. It’s really happening! The baby’s coming. Darryl—” She reached out to touch his arm.

He shook it off. “It’s about fucking time,” he said, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and dragging one out with his teeth. His hand shook so badly he could hardly light it.

Toy shrank back in her seat, dragging her hand back to cover her belly. The streets rolled by in a blur of tears and, above, the storm clouds whirled thick and ominous. But inside the smoky car, Toy saw her world with crystal clarity. She was alone in this. She couldn’t count on Cara and Miss Lovie. She couldn’t count on Darryl. The only one she could count on was herself.

Lovie crouched down in the wind and gingerly laid the last egg in the bucket. She’d been especially careful not to jostle them so late in the incubation period. She also added extra moist sand along the bottom and sides of the red bucket to form a nestlike setting. When the last egg was in place, she covered all eighty-two of them with more moist sand, up to the rim, and gently patted it down, then covered it with a towel. The bucket was heavy and her arm shook as she lifted it, but she walked with a slow, steady tread, determined not to shake her hatchlings any more than was absolutely necessary. She sang to them as she walked, songs from the nursery any mother would sing to put her babies to sleep.

The wind teased her like a naughty child, lifting her skirt and pushing her forward with a gust. She stopped to steady herself so as not to rock the bucket. At least the rain had stopped, she thought, then said, “Thank you, Lord.” She didn’t want to ask God for any more favors, though she was tempted to drop to her knees right here in the sand and howl off a litany of requests. An inner voice told her to be calm and to accept whatever came.

“Mama!”

Lovie took heart at hearing Cara’s voice and looked up to see her trotting along the path. She set the bucket down, shaking now with fatigue.

“Where have you been? You scared me to death!” Cara had to shout to be heard over the pounding surf and the wind. “Look at you. You’re soaking wet.”

“It took a long time with the waves rushing. And with all my coughing.”

“Let me take that bucket. Here, lean on me.”

“No! Don’t touch the bucket. If you do, you’ll be implicated.”

“Oh, hell, you’re in no condition to carry it. And I’ll be damned if I let you. Where are you taking them, anyway?”

“To the house.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Caretta, I don’t have time to argue. The tide has already crumbled the dunes. There’s no safe place here on the beach to put these babies and we don’t have time to go searching for another spot farther up. I have no choice.”

“Oh, hell,” Cara muttered again, bending to lift the bucket with one hand and grabbing hold of her mother’s arm with the other. As she straightened, the wind slapped her face with cold drops of rain. “Come on, Mama. It’s starting to rain again. Let’s hurry.”

They walked facedown, cutting into the gusts of wind and the sleets of rain. As they rounded the house, Cara squinted through the mist and saw a figure step away from her Saab.

Brett. He was dressed in jeans and an olive poncho. Strips of hair lay flattened across a face grave with worry. Her heart leaped to her throat. She was so relieved to see him she wanted to drop the bucket and go running into his arms.

But his face was scowling and his heels cut into the sand as he barreled toward them. “What the hell are you still doing here?” he roared. Then his eyes spotted the bucket and his face stilled.

“We had to move it,” she shouted, her eyes glittering with challenge. “The dune was crumbling.” She shouldered past him toward the house.

“I don’t want to know about it!” he shouted back, but he bent to take Lovie’s arm as gallantly as though he were escorting her up the stairs to a ball. “You should be long gone, Miss Lovie.”

“It’s my fault,” Lovie said, leaning against him. “I was so slow and I’m the one who decided to bring the nest up to the house. Cara’s been packed and ready to go for hours.”

“You don’t have to defend her to me.”

“Don’t I?”

She looked up into his face but it was as shuttered as the house.

Back inside, the noise was thankfully muffled. “I gather Florence and Miranda are gone? I got no answer when I knocked.”

“They’ve gone,” replied Cara. She saw Brett walk from window to window, checking out the plywood and shutters. “Don’t worry. I put plenty of nails in.” Then turning to Lovie, “Mama, I’ll put these eggs in a safe place. You hurry and change. You’re soaked through.”

Brett followed Cara into the kitchen where she was moving pots and pans from a lower cabinet. Then, very carefully, she placed the bucket into a spot where it was dry, dark and warm.

“Sleep tight,” she said, closing the cabinet softly. Rising, she wiped the hair from her face and sighed. “I feel like some criminal.”

“You are some criminal.”

“So we broke a few rules,” she said defensively. “I don’t have time to worry about that now.”

“I’ve done nothing but worry about you since the moment I saw your car still in the driveway. No, since the moment I last saw you days ago.”

They stood a few inches apart in the small galley and she felt a greater pressure between them than from the hurricane outdoors. She looked up, uncertain. His hair was spiked where he’d pushed it off his face. Drops of rain trailed down his forehead and one hung on the tip of his long lashes.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She slumped against the counter. “Toy’s gone. With Darryl. We found a note this morning.”

Brett’s eyes shone with restraint, then a scowl formed as the situation sank in. He began to pace the narrow kitchen. “Are you certain she’s left with him? Have you called the police? How long have they been gone? Isn’t she due any day?”

Of course his instinct would be to protect.

“She wrote in her letter that she went with Darryl. They could have left any time last night or this morning. We don’t know. And there’s no point in calling the police because we don’t know anything about him, not even his last name. I’ve never even laid eyes on him for a description. All I do know is he’s twenty-four years old, in some band and he hits pregnant women.” She brought her hands to her face. “God, it’s all my fault. I’ve been so caught up with my own problems that I didn’t take the time to reassure her. Of course she went with him. She figured she had nowhere else to go.”

Brett stopped his pacing in front of her, but he didn’t touch her. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“If not me, who? I knew she was afraid. Knew she needed guidance. She tried to tell me, but I didn’t listen. I wanted her to make some decisions for her own life. Then I just got so caught up with mother, my job, the hurricane. She must have been frantic, getting closer and closer to the baby being born. I—I thought I’d have time. We’d figure something out. Wing it. But I wouldn’t have abandoned her!”

Brett’s eyes were feverish and he clenched his fists at his sides, helpless to console her.

“I’ll find her.”

Cara grabbed a paper towel, swiped the tears from her cheeks and sniffed loudly. “How can you? We don’t know where she went.”

“The traffic is backed up, and in her condition, I doubt she could have gotten far. I’ll check the shelters. I’ve got connections. I’ll make some calls. Tell me where you’ll be staying.”

She fumbled with gratitude. “Is this another of those rules of yours? A Lowcountry man never leaves a lady in distress?”

He didn’t reply for a moment, then said reluctantly, “Something like that.”

She grabbed a piece of memo paper and wrote the name of the motel they’d be staying in and the route they’d be taking. “Here, Brett,” she said, handing him the paper. “Even if you don’t find her, thank you. It means a lot that you tried.”

He took the paper. “I’m off then. Turn off the electricity and gas before you go. And go! Now. No more delays. I’ll call to check on you and Miss Lovie tonight.”

Then, with a final parting look, he went out into the storm.

She stared at the closed door and wondered for a fleeting moment if she was crazy or if, when she’d handed the piece of paper to him, she’d really felt the connection as his fingers took hold.

A short time later Cara finished loading the car. She’d squeezed all she could into every inch of space then, glancing at her watch, groaned. Two o’clock already, though it seemed more like night. The storm was building as quickly as her fear. They’d delayed too long, Brendan was already at their heels. The surf was pounding so loudly she could feel the percussion in her head, and fear snaked along her spine as she fought her way up the stairs.

“Mama!” she called on entering the house. “Mama, hurry!” She ran into her mother’s room to find Lovie stretched out on the bed, a blanket wrapped around her legs.

“Come on, we’ve got to go!”

Her mother shook her head and brought her knees up to her chest. “You go ahead.”

Cara stopped abruptly. “What?”

“I’m staying.”

“You’re what? Oh, no you don’t. This is ridiculous. We don’t have time for this. You’re going.”

“I’m not! I’m not leaving the beach house. Not ever again.” Her voice began to rise with emotion but she checked it, struggling to maintain her dignity. “But you have to go. So hurry. Please.” She smiled stiffly.

Cara could only stare at her mother while panic whirled in her chest. She knew that look. She’d seen it enough times over the years. It was the narrow-eyed, teeth-bared look of a cornered, beaten dog. If she was going to move her, she’d get bit.

It was the last straw. Cara threw her purse down on the floor, wiped a damp lock of hair from her face with an angry swipe and glared at her mother with mounting fury.

“Well, screw this!” she shouted. “I’ve had it. If you’re not going, then I’m not going!”

Lovie looked stunned and her composure collapsed. “But—but…you have to go!”

“I’m not.”

“Cara, don’t do this!” Lovie cried, her voice rising. “I’ll be fine here. This house has withstood lots of storms, even Hugo. It will stand up to this one, too.”

But Cara didn’t move; she steeled herself against her mother’s growing hysteria.

“I have to stay,” Lovie cried, wringing her hands. “Someone has to stay with the turtles!”

Cara crossed her arms across her chest. “I’m not going.”

Suddenly there was a thunderous cracking of a tree branch outside the house, followed by the horrid creaking of the bathroom shutters as they were torn off their hinges. After a crashing thud, the broken branches battered the window glass like pounding hands.

“Go, Cara!” Lovie screamed. “For God’s sake, go! I don’t want to leave. I want to die here. I’m not afraid for myself. Please go!”

Cara felt the lid of her emotions rip off like the shutters. She was eighteen again and a great, howling pain clawed out from her chest. Words suppressed for too many years shrieked from her in a maelstrom, as uncontrolled as the wind.

“Once!” she cried. “Just once I wish you’d think about me for a change!” She took a deep breath that hiccupped in her throat as she stood, arms rigid at her sides, her hands in fists. “Do you want to know why I ran away at eighteen, Mama? Do you?”

Lovie clutched her shirt close to her chest with her small hands. “Oh, Cara—”

“It wasn’t just because of Daddy. I knew he didn’t love me. It was because of you! I couldn’t forgive you for not protecting me. Or Palmer. Not even yourself. That night I ran away, he beat me hard. You let him hit me, Mama! You could’ve stood up to him. You could’ve defended me. You could’ve defended both of us. But you just stood by and let him hurt me. Why?”

Cara angrily swiped her face and took a deep, shuddering breath. “I know why. To protect yourself. And now, again, you’re thinking only of yourself! Or the turtles!” She felt the hurt taking shape in her chest, swirling painfully. “Why not me? Mama, why don’t I matter enough?” Then the hurt erupted, gushing out with tears. “Why have I never mattered enough?”

“No, Caretta, no! That’s not the way it was at all!” Even as she said the words, Lovie realized that they weren’t true. She hadn’t protected her daughter. But Cara didn’t understand why.

Another loud, shuddering crash exploded in the room as the branches succeeded in catapulting through the window. Lovie screamed and Cara crouched low to the ground, her head ducked, her arms crossed over her head as shards of glass splayed like bullets. Cara felt a terror as starkly horrifying as it was familiar. Only once before had she been so afraid for her own safety. That moment flashed in her mind.

She was just eighteen, crouched in the corner of the entrance foyer to their house in Charleston. She held her arms protectively over her head, heard the whispered whoosh and snap of a leather belt as it cracked like a bullwhip against her skin. It stung like hell but it was the shock of being hit by her father that she felt the most. Even while she screamed for him to stop, she felt a deep shame that he could do this to her. His face was ugly and contorted with rage that she’d defied him and she saw in his eyes that he was glad to see her put in her place. He was shouting words at her that she could only understand in phrases like, “last time” and “I’ll teach you” and “do as you’re told.” She begged him to stop, growing hysterical.

Until she saw her mother. From a small space under her arm she saw Lovie clutching the doorframe of the foyer. Her mother didn’t rush forward to stop him or stand in front of her child. She only watched, her face pale and her eyes wide with horror. Cara stopped crying then and rose to stare boldly at her father while he hit her. She stood straight until she shamed him into stopping. The hurt inside had made her numb to the blows.

Cara huddled in the corner, crouched in fear, while the hurricane’s wind shrieked like a ghost. Then she felt her mother’s hand on her shoulder.

“Cara?” she said. Then, more firmly, “Cara, look at me.”

Cara turned to look up at her mother. Despite the wind swirling in the room, Lovie stood straight, her shoulders back in resolve.

“Yes, I saw him strike you that night,” Lovie said. “And I knew at that moment you had to get out of that house. For your own safety. It broke my heart when you left, but I didn’t stop you because I loved you more than myself. I knew the path I’d traveled and I didn’t want you to follow. Maybe I should have left with you, but I can’t change what’s done. I can leave with you now though. I love you, Cara. You do matter.”

“Mama—” Cara cried, leaning against her mother’s legs.

“My little Tern,” Lovie said, stroking her daughter’s damp hair. “Now come, take my hand,” she said firmly, guiding Cara to her feet. “I have much to explain but we don’t have time now. We must go.”

Holding hands, they went out into the storm. Brendan’s breath was on them but his real strength was still a ways off. Cara held on to her mother’s waist and they cut through the wind to the car. No sooner had they reached the road than the rain began to dump bucketfuls. Even with the windshield wipers going full blast Cara could hardly see the road ahead. She leaned forward, gripping the wheel tight and squinting, heading straight for Palm Boulevard at a snail’s pace. It was a ghost town; the streets were deserted. Most of the houses were boarded up. She was careful, taking it slow, on the lookout for fallen wires or flooded streets. She worried about the wind conditions on the connector.

“Goddamn, will you look at that?” Cara peered through the sheets of rain. Not far from the connector an old oak had split and fallen across Palm Boulevard. Her mouth went dry as she came to a stop. The enormous branches stretched from one side of the road to the other. She stared at it with disbelieving eyes as the wind rocked the car and rain pelted the windows.

“Can we get around it?” her mother asked in a thin voice.

“I don’t think we should try. The power lines are down and the small roads are already flooded.”

“Then don’t try. If the water’s rising we could be washed away.” Her fingers shook at her lips. “What about the Ben Sawyer Bridge? Can we back up and take that?”

“I heard on the radio that it’s already closed. It fell into the water during Hugo, remember?” Staring at the blocked road through the clicking windshield wipers, Cara felt a crack in her thin shell of composure. “We’re trapped here. What should we do?”

“Cara,” her mother said in a strong, firm voice that drew her attention from the street. “Drive home. We’ll be all right in the beach house.”

“If there’s flooding—”

“It’s a high lot and the house is on pilings. We can’t stay here—and we have nowhere else to go. But we must get out of this car. If flooding starts, it will be a coffin.”

Cara was spurred on by that frightening image. Her hands shook as she shifted gears and turned the wheel away from the evacuation route. They were on their way back to the beach house. Only one local radio station was audible over the crackling static and the whistling wind. Turning it up, she heard that the hurricane had not gained power.

“Thank you, God! Maybe we can ride this one out.”

“I’m praying, Cara. I’m praying hard.”

“You do that, Mama. You’ve got better connections than I do.”

“Now’s not the time to be proud. Now’s the time to fall on your knees.”

“I intend to, just as soon as I get out of this car.”

As Cara navigated through the rain-slicked streets, she squinted through the sheet of rain and clicking wipers to make certain she didn’t drive into water. If the car stalled, she knew they’d have to get out quick and climb to higher ground. Her knuckles were white on the wheel and her jaw hurt, she was clenching her teeth so hard. She was more scared than she’d ever been in her life. But she recognized the feeling of that steely wall dropping again, the one that separated her from the outside arrows, the one that kept her emotions in check. It had served her well over the years in times of emergency and stress and she counted on it now. They needed to get out of the storm and prepare for the worst.

By the time they reached the beach house they could see the waves already hammering far past the dunes and lapping the pilings of the front row houses. Sea spray shot high into the air. Flooding from tidal surge was her worst fear. They’d be trapped in the house with nowhere to go but up on the roof. Still, she breathed easier knowing that, if the hurricane hit, it would be at low tide. She parked the Saab under the rear porch behind The Gold Bug. If flooding occurred, the engine would be shot. Then she pulled out the plastic bin full of important papers.

Facing the wind and rain Cara said, “I swear, the next house project, if there is a next project, will be to build a covered staircase into the house.”

“Just one more appendage to blow away,” Lovie replied, climbing from the car with Cara’s help.

Her mother gripped her arm for support and they braved the wind a final time, catching sight of palms already leaning against the storm, their fronds rattling in frenzy. Cara raised her eyes, squinting against the wind. The little cottage stood strong on its perch high on the dune. “Keep us safe,” she whispered as she struggled with her mother and the heavy bin up the porch stairs.

Once inside, the house was humid, dark and still. The phrase silent as a tomb ran though her mind but she quickly shook it away.

“I’ll light the lanterns and you can change into something warm. Again,” Cara said to Lovie, striving for levity.

Her mother coughed and smiled at the same time, keeping up the front. “At this rate, I should put on layers that I can peel off.”

“I’m going back out for the oxygen tank before it gets too late,” Cara said, opening the door. A gale rose up, and with a sudden ferocity, it tugged the screen from her hand, slamming it back against the house and tearing the top hinge out from the wood.

“Leave it!” Lovie cried out in a panic. “I won’t need the tank. I forbid you to go out in that again. It’s too dangerous.”

“I can get it,” she cried back and dashed out into the wind. Thankfully, the tank was in an easy access spot on the back seat. She yanked it out and groped her way back up the stairs.

“Foolish girl!” her mother cried out in relief when she returned.

Cara felt triumphant. She pulled the screen shut then ran to grab her hammer and pouch of nails. With a few sound whacks the door was secured. “I guess that’s it,” she said, slumping against the door. Rainwater dripped from her hair and down her face. “We’re in for the duration now.”

“May God protect us,” Lovie whispered.

While Lovie changed, Cara lit the lanterns and placed one on the kitchen counter and brought the other to Toy’s room. With the windows boarded and outdoor furniture and supplies crowding, the house looked like a storage facility. She lugged an extra piece of plywood into her mother’s bathroom, then boarded up the broken window. Next she began moving the plastic bins full of bottled water, medical supplies and dry food into Toy’s room. Lastly, she moved the oxygen tank. She was moving Toy’s clothes out from the closet when Lovie walked in carrying her Bible.

“Why are you moving everything in here?” she asked.

“If the wind gets too strong, this will be the safest spot. The pressure will push the windward windows in, but the leeward windows will pop out. And, if we have to, we can jump into this closet.”

“Lord have mercy.”

“We’ll be fine,” she said, mustering up reassurance that she didn’t feel.

“Yes, I’m sure we will,” she replied bravely but looking lost.

“You might as well make yourself comfy on the bed, Mama. We’ll be here for a while. I’ll get the radio and some books. Anything in particular you’d like to read?”

“I’ve brought my Bible. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to read from this.”

Cara released a small smile. “I’d like that.”

Hours passed, and though the hurricane veered north, the beach house swayed back and forth on its pilings as the storm drew nearer. Inside the small bedroom, however, the lantern cast a warm yellow light over the Bible as Cara read aloud. Her voice was a low, soothing counterpoint to the constant whistling of the wind. Lovie had chosen Ecclesiastes and they both found comfort in wise King Solomon’s insights at the culmination of his life. When a gale force wind rattled the house, Lovie squeezed Cara’s hand.

“Rest your voice for a spell and turn off the radio, dear. That incessant chatter about the hurricane is only making us more nervous. And I think it’s time—” She paused and took a deep breath. “Cara, I’d like to talk to you about something that’s been preying on my mind for some time.”

Hatchlings dine on small snails, macroplankton and invertebrates. After they reach adulthood, their powerful jaws can crush heavy-shelled crustaceans and creatures that reside in reefs and rocks. Jellyfish are like candy treats.