“I decided on the code word!”
Oh, hell, here it comes . . .
“Sal!” she announced.
“Leeni. Honey.” How the hell does she do it? “That’s just . . . odd. I can’t use a real person’s name.”
“Sure you can! They did it in history all the time. Operation Mike was the code name for the first hydrogen bomb test.”
Great freaking example.
“Let’s get you some dinner and see what this storm’s doing.” I ushered her toward the door, but stopped to scan the yard. “Have you seen Pebbles?”
For the next several minutes we called for her, walking around all sides of the porch. I even ventured down into the yard and called into the trees that separated us from the water, but she didn’t appear. The rain bands were moving in; and between the darkening sky and the rivulets of water dripping down my forehead, I could barely see.
Finally, I gave up and rejoined Eileen. “She must’ve found a hidey-hole somewhere. Maybe under one of the neighbors’ trailers.” My daughter’s big eyes were so worried that I wanted to search again; but I was drenched and shivering in the gusts.
“It’s okay, Mom. Storm’s not here, yet.” She ducked inside while I took off my soaked shoes and scraped the mud against the railing, meeting me at the door with a dish towel.
“Thanks, s-sweetie.” I gathered my hair in the towel so I wouldn’t leave a trail across the floor and shivered again as the air cooled my wet shirt. “I’m g-gonna t-take a shower. Lock the door, ‘kay?”
“I’m going to pull up the latest storm track. She wasn’t supposed to get here until tomorrow night.”
“Good thinking, super-genius.” I double-checked the back door, while she deadbolted the front door.
“And I’ll make sure our phones are charged in case we lose power.”
I stuck my head out from the bathroom, “Thanks, Mom!”
“Have to look out for my girl!” she teased back.
Smiling to myself, I stripped down and stepped into the hot shower; but as soon as the scalding streams hit my skin I forgot everything except how wonderful it was to be warm. That selfish, blissful feeling lasted about five minutes and then my brain clocked back in.
Why was the storm moving in early? I was curious to look at the reports myself. We didn’t have a television, but the weather online was more accurate, anyway. I thought about Miss Hester’s comment again and decided it might be a good idea to stick an extra change of clothes in our emergency bags. Just in case.
In case of what? No idea. That was what made me nervous. Now I was in a hurry to get out of the shower. I felt better once I’d dried off and dressed in sweat pants and a hoodie. Something was amiss—other than the obvious—and I didn’t want to be caught off-guard in pajamas. In fact, what I needed was a cup of coffee. I didn’t want to get sleepy anytime soon.
Eileen was engrossed in the weather reports and updated me as I scooped grinds into the carafe.
“It’s cool! Andrea isn’t following any of the models. The last scout plane puts her at a Cat 3.”
“A hundred and eleven?”
“One-thirteen!”
“Guess it’s a good thing Adam came over.”
“Yeah! And these rain bands are going to bring wind gusts over fifty miles an hour by nine o’clock!”
I glanced at the clock on the microwave. Eight forty-five. Jesus. I hadn’t fed my child dinner. I pushed the carafe aside and started looking through the cabinets.
“Leeni, sweetie . . . I’m sorry. Are you absolutely starving? I should have fed you before I got in the shower.”
She frowned at me over the screen. “I made us sandwiches. See?” Sure enough, two sloppy peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, complete with chips and salsa were waiting on the table.
“Aw . . . you’re the best.” And I suck. I held in my sigh, but she stood up and came to give me a hug. Touched, I kissed the top of her head, and she didn’t even complain.
As we ate, she filled me in on the experts’ latest probable scenarios. Apparently, overnight winds might rattle our little house at well over a hundred miles an hour; and if so, I owed Adam a much bigger favor than I’d realized. Our home had weathered many storms, but Cat 3s and 4s weren’t something you took lightly. Evacuation centers had opened, and thousands of people already crowded the routes out of town; but we’d never had to leave our house before . . .
“Oh! I forgot!” Eileen stopped a tortilla chip on the way to her mouth. “Maureen must’ve called while we were outside. I saw the notification when I put your phone on the mat.”
The shop! I hadn’t thought about it at all, and she’d probably needed my help. Even though there was nothing I could do now, I called her back. We hadn’t been prepared for the storm to come through this early—or this strongly. All I’d done today was move the more expensive items away from the windows.
She answered on the first ring and luckily had only wanted to make sure that Eileen and I were okay. She and Phil had gone to the shop at seven, dragging everything to the back of the store and pulling plastic tarps over the piles. Now they were hunkered down at home, hurricane shutters lowered, surrounded by flameless, battery-operated candles and drinking wine. We wished each other a safe storm before we hung up, and I placed my cell back on the mat to finish charging.
“Maureen and Phil are okay?”
“Yeah, sweetie. They have those automatic shutters that roll down when you push a button. They’re in lock-down mode.”
“That is so cool. Their house is huge, right? I wonder if they have two generators . . . ? What you’re supposed to do is add up all the wattage you need and prioritize . . . ”
I nodded frequently.
After we ate, we went back out on the porch and circled the
