Cliff steadied himself by holding onto the polished teak board beneath the window and glanced back at the island as they got further into the bay. The island grew smaller. The sky was the color of an ugly bruise. Rain pounded down on them. And this was just one of the early bands of the storm. The actual hurricane was still a good day and a half out. He wondered what damage it would do. Would the town still be standing?
The boat dipped and plunged again and again, and he was beginning to doubt their choice of trying to get to the mainland. Jonah’s face grew tense as they crossed the rough water. He notified the harbor master on the mainland that they were approaching and needed a slip for the boat. The best they could do was tie up at the end of the dock.
As they finally approached the marina, a man in a yellow slicker hurried to the end of the dock. Cliff went out and tossed him a rope, and the man secured the boat.
As they all disembarked, the rain let up, but the wind still whipped around them. Jonah reached for Winston. “I’ll carry him. Let’s see if we can find a way to get further inland.”
“I’m headed across to the other coast if y’all want a ride with me.” The man in the slicker held out his hand. “I’m Steve, by the way. Glad you made it safely across the bay. I was just finishing closing the marina when I got your call.”
“Thank you, Steve. We’d appreciate the ride out of harm’s way.” Jonah shook Steve’s hand.
Cliff took one last look out at the bay with the angry waves racing across the water. Relief that they’d gotten safely off the island flooded through him, but it didn’t stop the anxiety of wondering what they’d come home to.
Chapter 10
Beverly leaned against the headboard of her hotel bed, a pillow tucked behind her back, eyes fixed on the television screen. The remote rested in her hand, ready for her constant changing of the channels to see if she could get more information. The same weather map kept appearing with its swirling patterns of red, orange, and yellow moving across the Florida coast.
The forecasters stood in their rain gear, hair whipping in the wind as they gestured dramatically at the storm conditions behind them. One was positioned in Sarasota, ankle-deep in water. Another shouted over the howling winds in Fort Myers. But not a single one was reporting from Magnolia Key.
“They’re not even mentioning our island.” She frowned at the TV as if that would make news about the island suddenly appear.
Maxine sat at the small round table by the window, scrolling through her phone. “Nothing on social media either. Just general hurricane coverage.”
The hotel room was nice, but she longed to be home in her cozy cottage. The room had two queen beds with floral spreads, soothing sage-colored walls, and artwork of the coastline. The air conditioning hummed steadily, keeping tempo with the anxiety thrumming through her.
“I keep thinking about Coastal Coffee. I put up the shutters, moved everything off the floor that I could, but…” She shook her head. “If the storm surge is bad enough…”
“Don’t torture yourself.” Maxine set her phone down. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of Beverly’s bed. “We did everything we could.”
“I know. It’s just that place is my whole life.”
“The building is insured, right?”
She nodded. “But it’s not just about the money. It’s about…” She struggled to find the right words. “It’s everything that place means. All the memories. The community that comes through those doors every day.”
The meteorologist on TV was now explaining the hurricane’s projected path with unnecessary enthusiasm. She pressed mute, unable to listen to another minute of his animated delivery of potentially devastating news.
“I get it,” Maxine said. “But try and remember that whatever happens, you still have that community. The building might change, but the heart of what makes Coastal Coffee special is you.”
She gave her friend a grateful smile. “When did you get so wise?”
“Right around the time my life fell apart and I had to put it back together,” Maxine said with a wry smile. “Crisis has a way of clarifying what matters.”
She reached for her phone on the nightstand, checking it for the tenth time in the last hour. “I wish someone would post something about Magnolia Key. Anything.”
“The power’s probably out everywhere on the island,” Maxine reasoned. “And cell service might be down. And I’m hoping no one stayed, but there are always a handful who refuse to leave.”
“You’re right. I just hate not knowing.”
She unmuted the TV as the weather segment switched to a reporter interviewing evacuees at a shelter a bit inland from Naples. People looked tired and worried, but safe. Children played in the background while adults watched the news on a large-screen TV.
Her phone buzzed, and she grabbed it so quickly she nearly dropped it. “It’s Darlene!” She opened the text message.
“What does it say?” Maxine moved closer, peering over her shoulder.
“Made it to my friend’s place in Orlando. No news from the island yet. Hope you’re safe.” She typed a quick reply. “At least she got out okay.”
“That’s good news. I bet we’ll start hearing from more people soon.”
