“I think the storm might have caused the power to go out for a while,” Daphne said gently, crossing over to her and kneeling down. Her insides trembled. But she stroked Lucy’s hair, working up her voice. “No big deal. We can read a book instead, can’t we?”
Lucy didn’t seem to notice the tremor in Daphne’s voice, for the little girl simply nodded.
“I brought my Rapunzel book with me in my backpack.”
“What a great idea. Why don’t you bring it to the couch and we can pick up where the movie went off.”
Lucy stood and dashed over to her bag, Winston at her side like the guard dog he was not, and Daphne stepped back to her phone on the counter to see if she could find out any more news. But there was nothing. No signal. No bars. Just a spinning wheel where the service should be.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. That’s fine. We’re fine.”
Her gaze raised back to the window. The street had taken on a strange sort of stillness. No shop lights, no car headlights. Not even people. Just the eerie glow of storm clouds and the distant flicker of fire dancing along the broken edge of the hill.
And at the moment, all Daphne could do was wait... and pray.
@WisteriaEmergencyServices:East Side Communication Update: Cell service and internet are currently down across much of the listening area due to damaged tower. For updates and emergency alerts, please tune into 1040 AM—WNCWisteria Radio. We’ll be broadcasting hourly with evacuation info, road closures, and shelter updates. Stay safe and stay informed. #WisteriaStrong #EmergencyUpdate
Finn had never seen anything like this in his life.
The river had swollen to three or four times its size. He’d even witnessed a storage building floating down it like a boat. He blinked at the memory. He’d really seen that—and it was only one of the many surreal things he’d passed on his drive from town to Granny D’s.
He couldn’t even count the number of trees in the road he’d dodged, a few times even driving off the edge to get around them.
A trip that should have taken fifteen minutes had stretched to nearly forty-five. By the time he reached the old bridge crossing to her house, he’d nearly turned back twice, but there was no call for it. Someone had to help the woman! And if he was capable, he’d certainly try.
Besides, Daphne was with Lucy. And he had full confidence in Daphne’s heart to care for and protect his little girl. The revelation settled over him with a little surprise blended in. Love did that, didn’tit? Wove its way into the cracked places of a heart and shored it up to hope and trust again.
He loved Daphne Austen.
And once he got back to her and Lucy, he planned on telling her outright.
With a deep breath, he crept the truck across the flooded structure, river water already lapping over the concrete to slap against the tires. How long the bridge would last was anyone’s guess.
He’d already passed a few that had collapsed inward, swallowed by water and soft earth. Hopefully, this one wouldn’t be next.
He’d barely crossed the bridge when he brought the truck to a stop.
From his elevated perch on the old gravel ridge, Finn could take in the valley below—and the sight gutted him.
Granny D’s house sat low, tucked near the bend in the creek like it always had, but now that creek looked more like a bayou. And her two-story white farmhouse looked like an island rising from a pond of murky, brown water. The yard was gone and water rose to the windowsills and lapped against the porch steps. Her old Buick under the carport was nearly submerged, just the roof and antenna poking out like a periscope.
He surveyed his options.
No way he could risk taking the truck down into that. One wrong turn and they’d never make it back to the road.
He threw it into Park and yanked the keys, shoving the door open and stepping into the thick, squelching earth. Mud sucked at his boots with every step as he half ran, half waded toward the house.
Where was Granny D? Surely she would’ve gone upstairs by now.
He sloshed forward, the water creeping higher with every step. Debris floated past—a flower pot, a bucket, a birdhouse spinning slowly like a lost top.
He reached the porch steps just as another wave sloshed against them, soaking his jeans to mid-thigh. “Granny D!” he shouted, slapping the side of the doorframe.
No answer.
Dear Lord, help me find her.
He shouldered the door open and stepped inside. The water spilled in behind him, dragging mud and twigs and heaven knew what else. The pieces of furniture had already begun to float, knocking lazily against each other like bumper cars.
