Chapter 6
Paxton pulled into the gravel parking lot of the Gauthier Lions Club’s lodge, surprised to find it empty. Was she the first one here?
“Hmm, I guess miracles really do happen,” she murmured as she checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror.
A moment later, Sawyer’s gleaming BMW pulled up next to her car. He looked over at her and smiled. He wore dark sunglasses, and, my goodness, but they looked good against his rich mahogany skin. Paxton sucked in a swift breath, praying it would help to regulate her heart rate.
“Lord, I want this man,” she breathed. Getting out of her car, she sucked in another calming breath. Her blood was still simmering after last night’s near-kiss. She needed to find some control if she was going to make it through today without taking Sawyer up on his offer.
And she was determined not to take him up on his offer.
Maybe.
Sawyer met her at his front fender, sans sunglasses. “Good morning,” he greeted her.
Two seconds had passed and she’d managed to refrain from pushing him onto the hood of his car and climbing on top of him. That was a good start.
“Good morning,” Paxton returned. She nodded toward his car. “I see you got your baby back.”
“And not a moment too soon. I couldn’t take another day in the Buick. I was just about to start jogging to work.”
Her gaze immediately dropped to his well-toned chest, which no doubt benefited from the evening jogs he’d told her he took after work. Her eyes darted back up to his, which creased slightly at the edges with his smile.
“You can look,” he said with a grin. “I don’t mind.”
Paxton rolled her eyes and released a frustrated sigh.
“Hey, you two! Good morning!”
Paxton turned to find Mya Anderson striding toward them. “Thanks for coming out so early,” she said to her in greeting. “I appreciate your taking the time out to show us the storm damage.”
Mya Dubois had created a gossip firestorm when she left Gauthier weeks after high school graduation, and she was the subject of even more gossip when she returned fifteen years later to attend her grandfather’s funeral.
Instead of hightailing it back to New York, she’d remained in Gauthier and eventually married her old high school sweetheart, Corey Anderson.
Corey and Mya had discovered Gauthier’s recent claim to fame, the room in the Gauthier Law Firm that had been confirmed as a stop on the Underground Railroad.
Mya, who had once shunned her hometown, had become Gauthier’s biggest advocate.
She now served as a pseudo-mayor/community leader, following in her grandmother Eloise Dubois’s footsteps.
“I should be thanking the two of you,” she said. “Getting that millage tax passed was one hurdle, but making sure the best flood-protection system possible is put into place is what really matters. Having two lifelong residents handling this project is more than I could have ever hoped for.”
“It’s going to be more than sufficient,” Paxton said. She glanced quickly at Sawyer, whose expression remained neutral. “From what I hear, your grandmother and the rest of the members of the Gauthier Civic Association had a lot to do with getting out the vote and pushing the measure.”
“To be honest, they didn’t have to do much pushing after Tropical Storm Lucy blew through.
The flooding was unprecedented, and in so many areas that hardly see standing water in the streets, let alone the kind of flooding we all saw with that storm.
It became obvious pretty quickly just how much this new system is needed.
” Mya motioned for them to follow her. “Let me show you some of the damage that occurred here.”
They entered the lodge, which was known mostly for the monthly pancake breakfast it hosted but also served as an after-school day care center.
“Insurance covered a fair amount of the damage, but not all of it. The Lions Club held fundraisers to cover the rest of the repairs. The building was out of commission for months.”
“Isn’t this where they hold the youth summer camp?” Sawyer asked.
“Usually, but they couldn’t hold it here last summer. The school board allowed the organizers to hold an abbreviated two-week summer program in the school cafeteria, but the school also took in some water and had to undergo its own repairs.”
Paxton studied the drawings taped to the walls, crayon masterpieces with smiling stick figures. There were also posters with positive affirmations, healthy living guides, and quotes encouraging kids to eat right and engage in at least sixty minutes of physical activity per day.
“They were still building this place when I left for Little Rock,” she murmured. “It looks as if they do a lot here with the kids.”
“It has been a great addition to the community,” Mya said. “The previous building was much smaller.”
“It’s still a pretty long drive for some in the community,” Sawyer commented. “There isn’t a place like this in the Landreaux area, is there?”
“No,” Paxton confirmed with a shake of her head. “I wish there were. We could use something like this on the other side of the creek. There’s so little for kids to do there.”
He stared at her for a moment, a curious look about him, before redirecting his attention to Mya. “Do you know how high the water got in here?”
“Actually, I can show you.” Mya motioned for them to follow her. “They still haven’t changed out the drywall in the storage closet.”
She flipped on a light in a closet at the rear of the room. It was faint, but Paxton could make out the line that rimmed the wall. It was nearly a foot from the floor.
“Goodness, there was that much water?” she asked. “How long did it take to recede?”
“That was another thing. Because the ground was already so saturated and the rivers nearing flood stages because of a heavy rain the week before, the water took days to recede. Everyone I talked to said that they had never seen anything like this, especially in this part of town.”
Paxton nodded. “My mom said the same. Thankfully, Harlon’s Bar is raised. It would have gotten a lot more damage if it were sitting on a slab instead of pilings.”
Just the thought sent a spiral of unease skittering down Paxton’s spine.
She’d heard the stories and seen pictures and videos, but it wasn’t until this very moment, until she saw with her own eyes how high the water had climbed, that it truly sank in for her.
If it had risen a foot, what would stop it from rising two feet, or three feet, with the next big rain event?
What if that perfect storm scenario Sawyer had talked about came to pass?
Actually seeing the damage made the importance of what they were doing hit home for Paxton like nothing else ever could.
Her mind immediately conjured up the topography maps stretched across the conference room table.
How much had the landscape changed since they were drawn up?
If she looked at them right now, would it show that this area of Gauthier was elevated and thus shouldn’t have flooded?
She had faith in her team at Bolt-Myer, and didn’t want to question the work they’d put into this project, but the writing was literally on the wall. That faint waterline signified so much.
Sawyer was right. There was something going on here, and Paxton had the sinking feeling that if they didn’t get to the root cause before they started working on the design phase of the project, Gauthier was destined to see a repeat of what had happened with Tropical Storm Lucy.
Their next stop was the elementary school. The damage sustained had not been as extensive as at the Lions Club, but several classrooms were still out of commission nearly a year after the flooding.
“There were several homes that were damaged, too, right?” Sawyer asked as they walked along the gravel lot behind the school.
“A few, but many of those have been repaired,” Mya said.
“We should still talk to the owners,” Paxton said. “I want to get an idea of how bad the flooding was and how close it has come to anything else they’ve seen in recent years.”
“We should probably tour the animal shelter, too,” Mya said.
Paxton stopped short, her stomach dropping. “The animal shelter?” she asked. “I didn’t realize it had been hit, too. Shayla never told me.”
Mya nodded. “It was. Thankfully, all the animals were saved. Callie Webber, the vet over in Maplesville, volunteered her practice as a makeshift shelter. But it was all still pretty traumatic for the animals.”
Panic filled Paxton’s senses. That animal shelter had been one of the biggest sources of comfort to her as a teenager. Just the thought of the animals being in harm’s way stole the breath from her lungs.
She turned to Sawyer. “We have to go,” she said. “I have to see it for myself.”
Even though Sawyer braced himself for the rush of memories he knew would hit the moment he stepped through the doors of the animal shelter, he was still taken aback. It looked the same, smelled the same—this place where he’d spent so much of his young life lusting over Paxton.
When she wasn’t helping her mother at Harlon’s, Paxton was at this shelter, tending to mange-ridden dogs and flea-infested cats. She spent so many hours there after school and on the weekend, so, of course, Sawyer had used every excuse he could think of to be there, too.
He’d considered signing up as a volunteer but thought it would be too obvious, so he’d gotten creative.
He’d lied about collecting pet food donations and instead used money from his allowance to buy it, simply to have an excuse to come to the shelter.
He would ride around Gauthier looking for stray animals to rescue. Any excuse he could find.