“Did you check the weather before leaving by chance?”
“Not for Weston Island, only Grace Harbor. Did you?”
Frowning, he shook his head. “Never crossed my mind to.”
“Same. I was too excited.” She reached for her phone and opened the weather app, checked the forecast for Weston Island. “If we can make it there in thirty minutes, we might be able to get into the museum before the storms hit. Unfortunately, we’ll probably be driving home in bad weather.”
His brows furrowed. “Do you want to turn around?”
“I don’t see a point. There is a long line moving north, so even if we turn around now, we’ll hit them.”
“We’re almost to the bridge,” he said. “Thirty minutes is cutting it close, but I have an umbrella under the seat somewhere.”
“I’m not worried.” She wasn’t, until she saw Jack grip the steering wheel with both hands.
He must have seen her frown. Keeping his eyes on the road, he spoke in a calm voice. “You always feel the wind more on a bridge. Best to keep two hands on the wheel for control.”
The choppy waves below them didn’t help as wind beat against Jack’s truck. Closing her eyes, she prayed they’d make it across safely.
Chapter Seven
Jack sat in the chilly side room of the small museum on Weston Island. The storm raged outside, refusing to let up, proudly becoming stronger. Outside temperatures had dropped at least ten degrees, but the thermostat inside hadn’t adjusted.
While they’d yet to find any definitive information, he and Anna had a stack of papers they’d printed out to pore through later. Due to time restraints, they opted to access as many articles and documents as possible before the museum closed, and then they would analyze whatever information they found when they got home.
There was a knock on the door, and Dean Ragland, the museum’s curator stuck his head in. “I’m sorry to bother you folks, but the museum closes in fifteen minutes.”
Anna looked up from the screen. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“How long will you both be visiting Weston Island?” Dean asked.
“We’re heading home from here,” Jack answered. “This was a day trip for us. We live down the coast in Grace Harbor.”
Dean frowned and pinched his lips together. “I guess you haven’t heard yet.”
Standing to her feet, Anna’s forehead wrinkled. “Heard what?”
“A nasty accident closed the bridge down about two hours ago. Even once it’s cleaned, it can’t reopen until the Department of Transportation inspects the impact point.”
Jack stood as well. “That must have been bad. How are the people involved?”
“By God’s grace, they are alive, but with a long road of recovery ahead of them.” Dean’s head swayed. “The bridge is an inconvenience for sure, but I’m sure glad everyone survived.”
“Me too.” Anna moved toward the curator. “The ferry is running though, correct? We can get off the island from there?”
Dean shook his head once more. “Not until these storms pass. The wind is too strong to safely transport. I’m afraid no one is leaving the island until the morning.”
“What do you mean?” Jack asked slowly as the pit of his stomach knotted.
“Unfortunately, all modes of travel to and from the Island are cut off for the moment. Fortunately, we have several lovely accommodations and restaurants on the island. I’d be happy to pass on my recommendations.”
“Thank you,” Jack managed to stammer. “We’ll finish in here, then be happy to hear your suggestions.”
“No problem. I’ll be in the office when you’re ready.” Dean left, closing the door behind him.
“We can’t stay here overnight.” Anna stared at Jack wide-eyed. “That wasn’t the plan.”
“I know, but I don’t see that we have a choice.” He ran a hand through his hair as he contemplated their predicament. “I’m sorry. This is my fault.”
