9. Maggie #3
Later, cleaning the kitchen, somehow alone, Maggie looked up from the counter, surprised to see Brick standing there.
“We’re in good shape out there,” he said. “Down to the careful, deliberate phase of last cuts and final caulking.”
“You think the house will survive?” she asked.
He considered the question, stroking his beard. “If the path stays east, yes. It’ll take some weather, but Eli and I were just on the roof and—”
She gasped. “What? You were on the roof?”
“Someone had to check. Didn’t want Eli to do it alone.”
“That’s dangerous for a seventy-five-year-old.”
“Pffft. I was a roofer in another life.”
“Well, you’re about to have another life—one in heaven—if you don’t stop climbing up on roofs.”
He grinned and leaned on the island. “You be careful, Mags. I’ll start to think you care about me.”
She gave him a look that turned into a beat too long of eye contact and, for the tenth time that day, a flush rose.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “You said we were friends.”
She waited for the fast and flirtatious quip, but he just let his silly grin grow serious. “I respect that, Mags.”
The simplicity of the statement touched her, and she didn’t know how to respond, so she
handed him a glass of water.
He took it, drained the water, set the glass down, and looked at her for one more second before he turned to go back down the steps.
“You should pack,” he said.
“Now?”
He nodded. “Outbound traffic is insane. Like, truly hellacious. It’s gonna be a haul to Crawfordville and I arranged for you and Jo to stay with my daughter until we hole up at Gator Jack’s. You won’t want to make that drive tomorrow. It’ll take ten hours during last-minute panic evacuation.”
Considering that, she nodded. “Okay. We’ll leave with you and follow when you go.”
By five o’clock, the Summer House was sealed.
Every window covered, every door braced. Sandbags were stacked six high at the dune line. All of the generators had been tested and were ready to be pulled out of the garage and put into use when the storm passed. The deck furniture was stacked in the living room and garage, and the pool covered.
Exhausted, the group ate pizza together on the boardwalk, sitting on blankets and folding chairs, the late afternoon sun coming in low and gold. The Gulf churned as a constant reminder that this wasn’t a picnic.
Brick sat across from Maggie, laughing at Jo Ellen’s stories. He also bragged about his grandsons and chuckled as Randy and Angel told stories about his more reckless youth. When everyone was packing up, Eli walked over to Brick at the bottom of the steps.
Maggie, on the boardwalk above them, watched the exchange, although with the wind and surf, she couldn’t hear what they were saying.
Eli reached out his hand. Brick took it. They shook, talked softly, then Eli put a hand on Brick’s shoulder and leaned closer. Both men closed their eyes, while Eli spoke softly.
“They’re praying together,” Jo Ellen whispered, coming up next to Maggie. “What do you think of that?”
She sighed. Old Maggie—before Destin and Jo and Gator Jack’s and years of forced independence she’d never wanted—would have made a sarcastic joke and turned away.
New Maggie blinked away a tear. “I think we were very lucky today.”
Just after sunset, with a route all mapped out, Maggie and Jo climbed into the T-Bird to ride with the truck and bikes out of town.
Brick led on his Harley with Angel and Randy following him.
The boys in the truck stayed behind the little red sports car, their truck loaded down with the last of the supplies and a cooler.
Since they weren’t going as far, the rest of the family would spend the night here, then leave for their safe house in Rock Hill in the morning.
For a moment, a low-grade fear gripped Maggie as she separated from her people.
“It’s okay,” Jo Ellen assured her, putting a hand on her leg. “It’s our next adventure, Mags, and we’re in good hands.”
As she started the engine, Eli came to the driver’s side window and bent in.
“Mom.”
“Yes.”
“Be safe and stay in touch. As long as you have cell service, call or text frequently.”
“I will,” she promised.
His mouth curled up in a smile. “And have fun, you two.”
“Oh, we will!” Jo Ellen called out, making them all laugh.
As she put the car in gear, Eli looked at her for a long moment with the blue eyes she had been studying since the day he was born. Then he reached in through the window and squeezed her shoulder, and looked up the line at Brick, who tipped his chin once in acknowledgment.
The Harleys started up ahead of her, the truck rumbled, and the caravan eased out onto Gulf Shore Drive, the evening light still soft, the Summer House behind them sealed against whatever was coming.
“Well, Mags,” Jo Ellen said, settling back into the passenger seat with her iced coffee, “we’re running away with a biker gang.”
“We are not running away.”
“Yes, we are.”
“It is a coordinated evacuation, Jo.”
“We’re totally running away.”
She just laughed and looked at her best friend. “Yeah, okay. We’re running away.”
“Woo-hoo!” Jo Ellen cried out. “Hurricane par-tay!”
Maggie rolled her eyes and drove.