Chapter 6
Alice
T uesday morning I rush through the kitchen unpacking groceries. The store was a madhouse. With the storms on the way, it seems like everyone in town had the same idea to stock up on supplies.
“Okay,” I call out to my dad. “I got canned ravioli and stuff to make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I also ran by the pharmacy and picked up the refill on your meds. And I wiped down the bathroom this morning. We’re good on toilet paper.” The last thing I want is for us to be stuck without his blood pressure medication or in a filthy house for days with no water or electricity. “Do you need anything else?” I say, coming into the living room.
“You get those chips I like?” Dad asks. He seems more tired lately than usual, and his beard has grown out to the point of looking scraggly.
“There are two bags in the pantry.”
“Good.”
“Okay, I’m heading over to Danielle’s. We have errands to run for the wedding.”
He acknowledges me with a grunt and a nod, and I pause for just a second to run through my mental checklist, making sure I’ve done everything here before turning to leave.
The entire bridal party is waiting on me by the time I pull Bertie up to Honey’s house. I close my eyes and swallow the lump in my throat. I hate being late. It feels like I’m being irresponsible and disappointing everyone, even though I don’t think my friends see it that way. I tell myself it’s only ten minutes after nine, so I’m not that late. But I hate letting people down, especially my bestiewhen I have official MOH duties to fulfill.
“I’m so sorry,” I say to Danielle. “It took longer than expected to make sure my dad had what he needed this morning.”
“No worries. Glad you’re here. There’s so much to do, and this weather they’re calling for sounds pretty intense. I want to try to get as much done this morning as we can so we can all be home before the rain rolls in.”
From the look of the darkening clouds and the way the wind is picking up, we probably don’t have long. Danielle continues, “We should split up. Obviously, I need to be the one to go to the final dress fitting. Maybe you can go to the bakery? They said they’d have the cupcakes ready for me early, and they should still be fine for the wedding.”
“Of course.”
She hesitates. “Um, the thing is, the bakery is kind of a two-person job. I’d feel better if Jake went with you.”
“Truly not wanted or necessary. I’ll be fine,” I promise.
She waves Jake over anyway. “There are a ton of cupcakes. Plus, I don’t want you to have to drive alone if the storm comes.”
I try to contain my groan.
“You’re lucky we’re not allowed to say no to the bride,” Jake tells her without looking at me. “Because a road trip with this one is pretty high on the list of things that might kill me.” He points in my direction.
Danielle shrugs, not taking the bait from him either. “I think there’s a pretty high likelihood you’ll both survive.”
“Fine, but I’m driving,” Jake insists. “At least cupcake pickup seems very within my wheelhouse. Dress fitting, not so much.” Then he turns to me. “Nice of you to finally join us, Louse. Oversleep the alarm, or just forget how to read a clock? We can get you one with big, bright numbers if you still aren’t sure what the big hands and the little hands mean.”
“Shut up. I got stuck at the store,” I grind out.
Jake laughs. “Stuck. Right. Trying to push again when the door said pull?”
“It was one time,” I say through gritted teeth, my cheeks hot.
“Okay, you two. Play nice,” Danielle intervenes, still smiling. “Can I trust you to control your tempers long enough to ride out to the bakery and back?” If she’s annoyed with our bickering, she’s not showing it. She’s too excited about the wedding to let anything bring down her mood. Nothing will get to her today. Not the storm, and definitely not me fighting with Jake.
“Fine,” I agree. “But if we’re going all the way to Marnock, we need to get a move on.”
He nods. “Yeah. I want to get this over with.”
At least we agree on one thing.
I stare out the window, not interested in engaging with Jake, watching as more dark clouds gather overhead. Thunder crackles in the distance, but thankfully the rain holds off for our drive, and we arrive at the Sweet Things bakery unscathed.
As I open the door, a chime sounds to announce our arrival. I let the door swing closed on Jake behind me. Leaving him in my dust, I smile at the only employee here.
“Hi, we have an order to pick up for the Daniels-Miller wedding,” I tell her, just as Jake comes up and flicks my shoulder. I turn to stick my tongue out at him.
“Thank goodness,” the woman behind the counter says. “I was hoping you’d get here soon. I just sent the rest of the staff home, and I’m about to close up early. This storm is set to be a real doozy. I’m Margot. If you’ll both follow me. The order is all boxed up and ready to go.”
Margot leads the way toward the back of the bakery. Jake steps around me, so he is the first to follow her into the kitchen area. Then he stops short, so I walk into him.
“Very mature,” I mutter.
He shrugs. “I know you are, but what am I?”
“So, you admit I’m the mature one?”
Now he’s the one to stick out his tongue. Margot’s eyes move back and forth between us like she’s assessing if she can trust us with her creations. I snarl at Jake and turn my attention to the cupcakes in boxes on the counter.
I peek into the boxes through their plastic windows. “Oh, wow. These are gorgeous.”
Half of the cupcakes are piled high with icing that looks like it has been painted with watercolors in different shades of blue, and there is a tiny bit of gold dust making them shimmer. The other half holds small sculptures of blue crabs crafted out of fondant.
Margot beams and puts one hand over her heart. “Thank you. I love them, too. Ms. Daniels had a very specific vision, and I’m so glad we could execute it for her here at Sweet Things.”
We each carry two stacked boxes and arrange them in the back of the car, then Jake heads back inside for the rest. We thank Margot and hurry to get back on the road as quickly as we can. No sooner than we shut the doors and buckle our seatbelts, the sky unleashes. Sheets of rain pound the windshield of Jake’s Outlander.
“It’s coming from the direction of home. They’re probably getting the worst of it in North Bay now,” Jake says as he leans forward, trying to see the road. He clicks on the high beams, but they don’t help. The rain is already coming down so hard we can’t even see the hood of the car we are riding in, let alone anything else. Thankfully, we’re the only ones on the road. I guess everyone else was smart enough to stay home when we all knew this mess was headed our way.
“Should we pull over and wait it out?” I ask.
“Maybe? But the storms are supposed to last for a while. If it gets worse, we’re going to need a better shelter than the car.”
“Is it supposed to get worse than this?” I swallow, rubbing my palm on the hem of my shorts.
Jake shrugs. “It’s a tropical storm, Louse. The news said it might even turn into a hurricane by the time it gets to us. This is only the beginning.”
That does not make me feel better. I’m keeping it together for now because I refuse to let him see me fall apart, but I hate storms.
I reach out to the screen on Jake’s dashboard to disconnect his phone so we can hear the local news, but he pulls my hand down and places it on my lap. “Don’t touch a man’s car without his permission.”
“Oh, I can’t touch your radio, but it’s fine for you to leave tuna under my seat?” I snap.
That infuriating smirk is back on his face. “I’m glad you understand the rules.”
I give up. I fold my arms, trying to calm the flips my stomach is doing. A clap of thunder booms far too close for comfort and causes me to jolt. Jake looks briefly in my direction, then he changes the radio dials until we hear an announcer talking about the storm.
“North Bay residents are advised to stay off the roads if at all possible. The bridge is closed due to falling debris. Conditions have been deemed impassible.” When the announcement is finished, a pop song starts playing that is way too peppy to match the dread I’m feeling.
“Shit,” Jake mutters under his breath, echoing my own thoughts. He pulls into a driveway to turn the car around.
We’re silent as he drives the streets of Marnock. The windshield wipers rock back and forth in a steady rhythm that competes with the song. There’s only one main road that leads into North Bay. We aren’t getting home until they open the bridge. The only other way we could get there would be by boat, and that clearly is not happening in this weather.
The music cuts abruptly and both our phones buzz at the same time. A shrill alarm sounds on the radio before switching back to the announcer’s voice. “This is an emergency alert. A tornado watch has been issued for the Northern Neck of Virginia. Residents of North Bay, Marnock, and surrounding areas are advised to stay indoors and remain alert.”
The bridge is out. We can’t get home. It’s pouring down rain. And now there is a freaking tornado? You’ve got to be kidding me.
I turn to Jake. “What do we do?” My voice waivers.
“It’s okay. They said ‘watch,’ right? The watch only means conditions are possible. A warning would mean there’s an actual tornado nearby. We don’t need to worry yet. Hopefully, it won’t come to that. One of the rentals I’m helping my uncle remodel is a few blocks from here. We’re going there.”
I try to focus on taking calming breaths while the panic threatens to pull me under. The wind is howling right on the other side of my door. At least Jake has a plan.
It doesn’t take long to find the adorable little cottage nestled on a secluded lot along the creek. At least, I think it’s adorable from what I can see through the rain. Which, in this downpour, isn’t much. But I can make out the yellow siding and overgrown hydrangea bushes flanking a small front porch and the creek that runs behind the house, which is already flowing violently. I hope the water won’t rise high enough to flood, because there is nowhere else for us to go.
Jake parks the car in the driveway and reaches into the center console for a garage door opener. When he presses the button nothing happens.
“The power is probably out already. Just stay here,” he says.
I don’t bother arguing. He steps out into the deluge, and I watch as he is soaked through well before he lets himself into the house through the front door. I rub my hands down my legs, wondering how long I’m supposed to wait until I follow him, but it isn’t long until the garage door opens and a sopping wet Jake reappears. He opens the driver’s side door. His shirt is drenched and clinging to him, and his hair is plastered to his forehead.
“Yeah. Power is definitely out.” He raises his voice over the rain as he pulls the car into the garage. “I had to open it manually.”
“You really didn’t have to open the garage just to keep me dry. I could have used the front door, too. I’m not afraid to get a little wet.”
He looks at me and smirks as he shifts into park. “That’s good to know. But I did it for my car. If we leave it outside and a tree branch falls through the windshield, or if it starts hailing soon, a damaged vehicle isn’t going to get us back home.”
“Right. Of course. That makes sense.” Embarrassment heats my cheeks again. Why would I think Jake Gibson was bothering to be chivalrous and trying to keep me out of the rain? This is the same guy who was just flicking me and making me run into him at the bakery. Then again, he did tell me to stay put inside the same car he was trying to protect. Maybe he’s less of a jerk during weather-related emergencies.
Jake gets out of the car and reaches into the back seat to grab a hoodie to replace his wet shirt. I mostly look away while he strips the clingy fabric from his body, and I only sort of notice the way his abs ripple and the fact that his chest is smooth when he pulls the hoodie over his head. Does he shave all his body hair? That’s a great example of a thought I will not be having while I’m stuck here alone with this man.
“You planning to sit in the car all day, or can I get a little help out here?” Jake calls.
By the time we work together to close the door to the small garage, with the car now safely inside, the sky is so dark it looks like we’ve teleported time zones. It could be the middle of the night instead of ten-thirty in the morning. There are two small windows in the cement walls, but still barely any light.
I follow Jake into the house, through a dark kitchen, and into the living space while thunder booms so loudly it feels like the house is shaking. Jake tries the light switch in the living room, but of course nothing happens. The power is out for sure. Great. There are drop cloths thrown over the furniture, and a ladder is propped up against the wall. A thin layer of drywall dust coats most of the surfaces, and shadows conceal the corners, giving the place a haunted house vibe I could do without under the circumstances.
“Are we really any safer in the middle of a construction site?” I ask.
His nostrils flare. “My apologies, but all the five-star hotels were fully booked.”
Jake hangs his wet shirt over the back of a wooden dining chair and gets to work taking the cover off the sofa. I try to make myself useful by turning on the flashlight on my phone and searching for whatever items might be helpful. I find a few candles and a package of matches on a shelf in the kitchen. Then I wander upstairs.
It’s a Cape Cod-style house, and there are two rooms at the top of the steps with a small bathroom between them. One of the rooms is completely empty, except for another ladder and some peeled wallpaper on the floor. The other contains a dusty antique dresser and a brass bed with a bare mattress. One bed. No sheets. No blankets. Awesome. At least there’s also a sofa downstairs.
I pull out my phone again, and a new prairie dog photo makes me feel a little better. I save it, then I send texts to my dad and Danielle to tell them we’re okay, but we will need to stay in Marnock to ride out the storm. I omit Jake’s name in my text to my dad. He probably assumes by “we” I mean Danielle and I are together, and I have no intention of elaborating.
Dad only sends a thumbs-up in response, but Danielle texts back immediately.
Danielle: Glad you’re safe. All’s well here, too. Please don’t destroy each other. I’m rather fond of you both.
Me: No promises.
Once we light a candle and scan our surroundings, Jake and I are left staring at each other in the middle of the dusty living room.
“What now?”
He turns up his palms. “I guess we just…wait?”
Jake takes a seat on the couch and makes a sweeping motion with his hand that passes as an invitation for me to sit next to him. He puts his elbows on his knees and bounces his legs.
“Aww, are you scared of the storm?” I tease him. Although, truthfully, I’m getting more and more nervous myself.
It’s been a while since our area has been hit with one this big. Two summers ago we had a few bad storms roll through, and it took weeks for North Bay to recover from the damage. I remember all the downed trees, scary winds, and rising water. The thought of a tornado added to all of that is terrifying. Plus, I’m worried about my dad riding this out alone. Not to mention what we would do if there is any significant damage to the house. I don’t know how we’d be able to scrounge up the deductible for the home owner’s insurance, assuming they would even decide to cover it. Can’t these kinds of things be considered an “act of God?” What if our coverage is denied? Then what will we do? In through your nose, out through your mouth . I try to focus on my breath and not make my spiraling too obvious to my temporary housemate.
Jake glares and shakes his head.
“If you must know, I was thinking about things we need to do,” he says, one knee still bouncing. “I don’t know how long we’ll be stuck here, but with the bridge out and the roads flooding, it’s going to be a least tonight. There’s no electricity, and this house is on well water with an electric pump. So, if you want to, you know, not die, we probably need to figure out the water situation first.”
Seeing Jake be this serious is sobering. He’s usually so carefree about everything.
“I saw some bottled water in the kitchen,” I offer. “So, we’ve got drinking water.”
“Good. That’s good.” He nods, stoic.
“But the pantry wasn’t very well-stocked. I’m not sure we have any food.” I chew my bottom lip.
Jake laughs.
“Are you actually laughing at me right now because I’m concerned we might starve? God, you’re such a di—"
“Calm down,” he interrupts. “I’m laughing because, apparently, you forgot what brought us here. We have plenty of food. There’s an entire trunkload of cupcakes in the garage. We obviously won’t starve. But we might have to buy Danielle and Mike apology cupcakes to make up for the ones we eat.”
“Do you ever find it works well to tell people to calm down in the middle of an actual crisis?” I snap.
Those cupcakes aren’t going to be dairy-free. This does not bode well for my stomach. I get along with dairy even less than I get along with Jake.
He closes his eyes and inhales through his nose. I can tell he’s trying to bite back whatever it is he really wants to say to me. After a beat, his face softens a little. “I didn’t intend to offend you. I’m sorry. I’ll try not to do it again.”
In fairness, I could probably also make more of an effort. I was in the middle of calling him names when he said that.
“Whatever.”
I dump the contents of my purse onto the dusty coffee table and start sorting, picking out anything that I think might be useful. I swear I threw a portable charger in here before class last week. I chew the inside of my cheek as I dig through the side pockets until I find it.
“Hey,” Jake says, causing me to look over at him. “Everything’s going to be fine.”