Dark clouds churned above as she turned back for one final look through the open door. The house felt different. It felt empty and vulnerable, like it knew what was coming. Her home for over twenty years stood waiting, braced for whatever the hurricane decided to throw at it.
“Please still be here when I get back,” she whispered, then pulled the door closed and locked it. The metal hurricane shutters clanked as she secured them across the front door.
The palm trees beside the house were already dancing in the wind with this outer band of storms kicked up by the hurricane. She hurried to her car and shoved in the last bag she carried.
She should go straight to the ferry, but she couldn’t stop the urge to drive past Coastal Coffee for one last look. She only passed one car. No people walking dogs or jogging. No kids on bikes. Just bare streets and locked-up buildings. A plastic chair someone had forgotten to secure tumbled down the street.
She slowed as she approached her shop. A closed for storm sign hung in the window. All the furniture had been moved inside. Hurricane shutters covered every window. She’d done everything she could to protect it.
Memories of past storms flickered through her mind. The time the front window shattered during Hurricane Matthew, the water damage from Irma that took months to repair, and the week without power after Andrew. Each time they’d rebuilt, but it never got easier leaving, not knowing what she’d find when she returned.
With one last look, she headed to the ferry landing. The line for the ferry stretched back several blocks. Cars crept forward slowly as more island residents joined the evacuation. Beverly fell into line behind Mrs. Peterson’s blue Buick. Up ahead, she could see the ferry loading vehicles.
The radio crackled with updates about the hurricane’s path. Category three now, possibly strengthening to a four. Mandatory evacuations expanded.
She inched forward with the line of cars. So many familiar faces in the vehicles around her, all looking as worried as she felt. Rain began to splatter on her windshield.
After she finally made it onto the ferry, she made her way up to the passenger deck like she usually did, but this time, she chose the enclosed section instead of standing out at the railing like she preferred.
She threaded her way through the clusters of people gathered on the covered part of the passenger deck, many with worried expressions as they gazed back toward Magnolia Key. She recognized most of the faces—neighbors, customers, friends—all evacuating like her.
The sound of the ferry’s horn cut through the thickening air, piercing the anxiety hanging over the crowd, as if to remind them of the reality of their departure. The mournful tone lingered in the air, a bittersweet farewell to the island.
“Beverly! Over here!”
She turned at the familiar voice and spotted Maxine waving at her from the railing. Dale stood beside her, one arm protectively around her shoulders. A wave of relief washed over her as she made her way toward them.
“I was hoping I’d find you two,” she said, joining them at the window. “Traffic’s terrible. I was wondering if you’d made it to the ferry.”
“Barely,” Dale said. “We were one of the last cars they let on. A lot of residents left yesterday, but it appears quite a few waited until today.”
Her heart ached as she turned to look back at Magnolia Key. The island grew smaller with each passing minute, its familiar silhouette shrinking against the darkening sky. The normally picturesque view was marred by ominous clouds building on the horizon. A lone sunbeam tried to slash its way through the clouds, illuminating the churning water in the bay for just a moment before the clouds closed around it.
“Did you get everything secured?” Maxine’s brow creased with concern.
“I think so. And thanks for the help yesterday. I finished up all the usual preparations. Still doesn’t make it any easier to leave.” She gripped the railing. “All these years of hurricanes, and it never gets easier.”
“Lived inland most of my life, and I still dread these storms. The antiques at the store are all elevated and covered. Did what I could.” Dale stared across the water.
The three stood quietly for a moment, watching their home recede into the distance. The wind picked up, whipping her hair across her face. She tucked it behind her ear and zipped her jacket higher.
“You two staying in Weston?” she asked.
“Yes. I haven’t forgotten the town tradition of people trying to book hotels in that area on the western edge of Fort Lauderdale. I expect most people will be there if they don’t have family or friends to stay with.” Maxine leaned closer against Dale, who drew her tightly to his side. “We’re at the Marriott. Were you able to get a reservation there too?”
“I did. It’s about two and a half hours east if traffic’s normal. Which it won’t be.” She shook her head. “Will probably take us hours and hours.”
The ferry’s horn blasted again, making them all jump. She watched as the last visible outlines of Magnolia Key disappeared from view. Her chest tightened. She’d left her home before, but this time felt different. Maybe because of all the changes already happening on the island—Cliff’s return, his development plans, the town’s division. And now this storm threatening to rewrite everything again.
“Think Jonah convinced Miss Eleanor to leave?” Maxine asked, breaking into Beverly’s thoughts.
“I hope so. That woman is stubborn as they come,” she replied. “But Jonah seems to have a way with her that nobody else does.”
“What about…” Maxine hesitated, glancing sideways at Beverly. “Did you see if Cliff evacuated?”
She kept her eyes fixed on the horizon. “No idea. Didn’t see him after he stopped by my place.”
“I did,” Dale said. “He was helping people in town board up their windows yesterday.”
