Chapter 34
Ike
Propping my phone between my shoulder and my ear, I lock my office and head for the exit. Diana’s line rings and rings, then goes to voicemail. I press End without leaving a message, redialing as I push through the door to the parking lot.
Where is she? I left way too early this morning and have been running like crazy all day.
Now I have to spend the night at the fire station.
I need to give Diana a heads up and make sure she saw the weather alert text that just went out.
It’s almost difficult to push through the exit door because of the wind.
The sky is ominously dark with thick clouds even though it’s only late afternoon. Whoa. This came on fast.
“Oh, good. I’m glad you’re still here.” Muffie Horowitz catches me on her way inside. Frigid wind blows her hair into her face, and she spits it out of her mouth with a pfffft-pfffft-pffft of her tongue. “I have a very alarming message on my phone,” she hollers over the wind.
“And you came here?” I pivot her back toward her car. “You need to stay home, Muffie. You shouldn’t be driving. A storm is coming.”
“That’s what I came to tell you!” She throws her wrinkled hands in the air.
Muffie Horowitz is out of patience with me.
“Listen to this.” She slides her phone out of her blingy little purse, swiping the screen.
She pulls down her readers and slowly repeats the text message everyone in our ZIP code received: “NWS—now, I don’t know what that means, but anyway.
It says, ‘Life-threatening storm surge danger. Follow the instructions of local officials.’ So, I came to tell you to warn everyone.
” She pushes her phone back into her purse.
“I’ve seen my share of these nor’easters.
They can be terrible. We need to be ready. We need to—”
“Muffie.” I put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You need to stay home. You’ll be safe there. Stay off the roads.”
“No, you need to listen to me. We need to—”
“Muffie.” I almost bark. Almost. My urgency to reach Diana is zapping my patience.
I gesture to myself. “Local official.” I gesture to her.
“Muffie Horowitz.” I point to myself again and try for a reassuring smile.
“Local. Official. As your local official, I’m instructing you to stay home.
We have things under control. We have a whole crew spending the night at the firehouse.
We’re ready for this.” I reach for her car door to let her in.
“It’s a decent storm, but we’ve seen a lot worse. ”
She presses the door shut. “Ike Wentworth. You’re spending the night at the fire station on your honeymoon?” She tsks. Storm surge forgotten.
Tell me about it, lady.
Diana might not consider this our honeymoon, but I don’t bother correcting Muffie. Instead I say, “It’s not by choice.” A gust of wind accentuates my words, and Muffie staggers against it. She lets me open her car door this time. “You need to get home and stay there until this passes, okay?”
She nods with wide eyes, and the wind slams her car door closed behind her. I need to move. This is blowing in faster than anything I’ve seen before.
A few minutes later, I point my truck toward the coast and Diana.
Her phone is ringing through the bluetooth, but she’s still not answering.
At this point, I’m less worried about giving her a heads up that I’m staying at the fire station tonight, and more concerned that she hasn’t gotten off the island.
I need to find her and make sure she’s safe.
When I reach the parking lot, I curse when I see Diana's car and throw my truck into park. I scan the shore of the island. Our boat is still tied up, smacking against the rocks. The choppy waves are already at full tide, and the surge is still hours away—or so we thought. This storm isn’t behaving the way anyone predicted.
And Diana is still over there. I’m cursing like a sailor now.
I need another boat. And I need Diana to answer her phone.
I double the speed limit on my way to Desmond’s place. When I call him it goes straight to voicemail.
“Desmond. Diana is still on the island. I’m gonna borrow your boat, grab her, and I’ll be at the firehouse as soon as I can.”
Fat raindrops plunk against the windshield intermittently, and I try Diana again. This time I get a message from her cell carrier. “The customer you are trying to reach is temporarily out of service. Message two one one—”
“Argh!” I jam my finger on the button to end the call and immediately dial Patty.
A crackly, robotic voice fills the cab. “All circuits are busy now.”
All of that shmoozing to get that stupid cell tower put in, and this is what it gets me?
By the time I finish loading Desmond’s boat into the bed of my truck I’m drenched.
I loosen my tie while I drive, throwing it on the passenger seat and rolling up my sleeves.
At least the roads are empty—a rare moment of compliance for the people of Cape Georgeana.
Most New Englanders know not to mess with a nor’easter.
Diana should know this. Why didn’t she leave the island? I push the gas pedal to the floor.
I make it back to the shore in record time and drag the boat to the water.
It’s a short walk, which isn’t a great thing.
The water is high. Anxious thoughts nag at the back of my mind, reminding me that what I’m doing is dangerous.
Maybe stupid. But I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her and I didn’t try.
I’m glad I’m already frozen from the pelting rain, because it lessens the shock of the icy ocean when I step into the boat.
This puny thing isn’t built for this kind of water.
I don’t have a life jacket, or anything to bail with.
The rain is filling the aluminum hull just as quickly as the waves will.
I look past the raging water to the lighthouse.
Rowing a hundred or so yards on a good day is no big deal.
Rowing across a hundred yards of angry ocean at the front end of a nor’easter?
This is going to suck.
An image flashes in my mind of the first night Diana came back to Cape Georgeana.
I stood on the shore, staring up at the lighthouse.
I was positive Marlow’s brother made the prank call to 9-1-1 that took us there.
Then I saw her. She was like an apparition in the lantern room, waving her light and drawing me closer.
I don’t see her up there now, but I picture her worried, watching me work to rescue her and… I’m ready. I can do this. How many times am I going to save Diana from this lighthouse? As many times as it takes.
I pull the oars through the water with numb, club-like arms. I can’t feel anything except the cold and the ever-present ache in my shoulder. Lightning strikes with an immediate crash of thunder. And I’m dragging through the sea on a metal boat that’s slowly filling with water. I have to row harder.
Pulling the oars toward me with everything I have, I’m moments from failure when I finally reach the rocky shore.
And now I understand how Diana got stuck here.
Our boat is full of water, and upon quick inspection I find a crack running through the thin metal hull, probably from being smashed against the rocks in this storm.
“Diana,” I call toward the house as I work through the slippery grass toward her. We need to move. I’m dreading the return trip, and the storm is only getting worse. It’s almost dark now. “Diana!”
When I reach the house, I leave a dripping trail as I stomp from room to room calling her name.
“Diana, where are you? We need to go. Now.” She has to be here somewhere, but the lights are out.
The short door to the lighthouse tower is cracked open.
I shove through. “Diana?” I hate the nerves in my voice.
I need to keep it together. I’ve rescued plenty of people, but this is the first time trying to save someone I love. There’s too much on the line.