Sizzle (St. Martin Family Saga): Emergency Responders by Gina Watson Page B

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.