A Spirited Gift

can be near the horses. He knows everything about them,” Mayor Whiteside said.

“We’re always making fun of the newbies who board up at the first sign of a storm.” Gramps chuckled. “Maybe they have the right of it. Living here for a long time might make you careless.”

“If my new bay window blows out at home, I’ll amen to that, Horace!” David agreed.

I studied the window in the front of the lobby as they spoke. It was at least twenty feet high and a dozen feet wide. It had been there since I was a kid. We used to sneak down and hang out at the old Blue Whale, never guessing it would be occupied again someday. The window faced away from the ocean, so it was probably a little more sheltered from damage. But there was no way to know. It would be expensive to replace. I hoped Kevin had good storm insurance.

Of course, with a group like this, it was a good chance to talk about all the terrible storms we’d lived through. There were tall tales of hurricanes that had lasted weeks, tidal waves three hundred feet high, hail as big as soccer balls and lightning that went on for days.

Flooding was always a problem here because we were caught between several large bodies of water that rose up regularly around us. The whole hundred-mile-long series of islands was well below sea level. We lost coastline every year. We added sand, put in plants to hold it, but it was a constant struggle. It had always been this way for residents of Duck. I didn’t see any way it would change in the future either.

“Storm’s passing,” someone said from across the packed room. “It’s getting lighter.”

“Or it’s the eye,” an assistant supervisor from Kitty Hawk said.

“That’s no hurricane out there, folks,” Chief Michaels told everyone. “We just got some feeder bands from Hurricane Kelly. The weather service says it’s moving away from the North Carolina coast. We’ll hole up here a little while longer, then take a peek outside.”

Everyone tried their cell phones again, but there was still no service. That was one of the first things we always lost out here—one reason the ham radio club was so popular. They always communicated the latest updates to Chief Michaels and other emergency workers.

I hoped everyone was safe and that property damage was minimal. It was all I could do. The Blue Whale was still standing around us. We were blessed to be here.

The crowd was starting to get restless—the chief said he didn’t feel comfortable letting anyone go to the next room and use the bathrooms. Most of the kids had been complaining about it for a while. When we finally got the all-clear notice, a large group ran for the facilities. I hoped the water was still working. There had been times after a storm when it wasn’t.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Kevin said as he helped me off the floor. “We seem to be in good shape.”

Anyone who didn’t go to the bathroom headed out the front door, including me, Kevin and Gramps. Outside, the bright moonlight made the devastation more apparent.  There was a car in what was left of Kevin’s mermaid fountain in front of the inn. Several picnic tables were in the driveway—undamaged—as if someone were about to eat lunch at them.

Trees, bushes and plants were tossed across the landscape. There was a tree on top of the roof. I realized as I looked up that all the windows were gone from the top floor on this side of the inn.

“I was a little quick to judge,” Kevin commented.

Gramps patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t feel too bad. It’s easy to misjudge. I’ve done it before. You get used to it.”

Kevin left us to make his way behind the inn so he could turn on the generator. People walked around outside, looking dazed and continuing to try and reach family and friends with their cell phones. A few guests started for their cars. Chief Michaels stopped them—the roads out of Duck were blocked by debris.

“Everyone calm down.” His loud voice got attention. “We’re safe here for now. There’s plenty to eat and drink and the bathrooms are working. Let’s give the cleanup crews a chance to get started. No reason to make matters worse.”

Despite close acquaintance with past storms, most people grumbled and complained that they weren’t happy about being trapped here, even though they would have been here for the conference anyway. People seemed to be that way about most things.

I got Nancy, Barbara and Althea together. We ushered everyone back into the hotel, promising food and drinks to ease the pain.

Emergency calls for workers were going out across the island. Kevin had been called—along with Gramps—to join the volunteer firefighters who would act as the cleanup crew for Duck. Marissa, still trying to dry her long blond hair, promised to look after the guests and the Blue Whale while he was gone. I promised to help her.

While Marissa tried to get everyone settled down, I went to the ballroom to lock the door so none of the children could wander in and get cut on the broken glass from the shattered window.

The room was a wreck—but the emergency lighting was working. Once the window had broken, torrents of rain had flooded the beautiful wood floor. All kinds of debris had followed, including some confused seagulls that were flapping their wet wings and trying to fly.

I grabbed some towels from the kitchen and managed to get the birds back outside before they caused too much damage. It was still going to be a mess to clean up. I didn’t want to think what that big window would cost to replace.

As I was sloshing through the water to reach the door (in my good shoes—there was glass on the floor, so I couldn’t go barefoot), something caught my attention. It glittered in the water with the sand and tree limbs, like pirate treasure. I stooped down—it was a diamond and ruby ring. Fear flooded through me.

She’d meant to have the ring sized—it had always been too big. When the rain broke into the ballroom, it had slipped from her finger. She walked through the water looking for it, finally finding it. She dropped it when she saw the gun pointed at her.

“Dae? Are you all right?” Nancy shook me and broke the emotional tie that bound me to the ring. “What are you doing in here? You could get hurt on all this glass.”

I took a deep breath and released the feelings from the ring. Kevin had taught me that. After all the years I’d had a gift of finding things, I didn’t think there was anything else to learn. I was wrong.

“I know,” I answered her, putting the ring on my thumb—it was still too big even for that digit. “I was trying to close off the room so no one would get hurt. But there were birds in here. I didn’t want Kevin to have to clean that up too.”

“Well, you’ve done your good deed for the day.” She smiled and hugged me. “Let’s get out of here. Thank goodness the kitchen is still in one piece and there are leftovers that don’t need to be cooked. Something about living through storms makes everyone hungry. I’m thinking a buffet in the lobby. What do you think?”

It was hard for me to think about anything after touching the ring. It seemed to me like I should look for its owner—she was in trouble.

But there was so much to do to take care of almost a hundred people—I couldn’t just abandon Nancy, Marissa and the other two women I’d asked to be here.

While I put out cups and plates, and located forks and knives for the buffet, I hoped that what I’d felt wasn’t as bad as it had seemed.

Sometimes my gift exaggerated things—made the emotions or events tied to them seem bigger or more important than they were. Sometimes the things I saw were unclear. They made sense only later, after I’d found out what had really happened. But deciphering my visions that way was confusing.

The fear I’d felt from the ring still made me shiver. The images chased around in my head as I smiled and asked people if they wanted a wheat or white roll. I believed someone might need help—but where or how, or even when, was hard to say.

That thought made me begin watching the faces as they went by the serving table heaping food on plates and filling cups with tea or coffee. Was anyone missing?

There were too many people. I tried to get a head count, but everyone was wandering around, sitting in spots on the stairs and in the lobby eating their food. How could I find out if anyone was missing without drawing too much attention to the fact?

I finally came up with an idea and got some paper and a clipboard from behind the check-in desk. I asked everyone to write down their names and home contact numbers.

“We might need to contact you later for insurance purposes,” I explained in what I hoped was a rational way. I didn’t want to cause a panic.