Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
SAWYER
I hadn’t expected to sleep. Not with the hurricane, and not with the world’s worst case of blue balls. I was never forgetting the sight and sound of Willa lost in pleasure. It had played on repeat in my brain long after she’d slid into dreams. But I woke to silence sometime just after dawn.
The dining room was dark, the candles having guttered out sometime in the night. The lantern batteries had died, but I could hear the quiet whir of the fan and the faint hum of the mini fridge running on the portable power station. Willa wasn’t doing her best impression of a koala, and I reached out to find the mattress beside me empty.
I sat up. “Wren?”
No answer.
“Roy?”
There was no telltale scrabble of claws.
Where were they? Were we in the eye, or was it over?
I was dragging on my shoes when one of the dining room doors opened.
“Oh, good. You’re awake. The storm passed about half an hour ago.” Willa’s voice was a quiet rasp. “I was just taking Roy out to potty.”
“How bad is it?”
“We’ve had worse. I didn’t go far. I wanted to wait for you.”
I followed her to the front door, noting the sandbags she’d already shifted and the weatherproof tape she’d removed to get the door open. Outside, the sky was a massive expanse of blue, interrupted only by the occasional wisp of cloud. It was as if last night’s chaos had scrubbed it clean. But the island itself was another story. Branches and leaf trash were everywhere. The garden we’d put so much effort into reviving had been ripped to shreds. Branches had been snapped off all the trees, some dangling, others having been carried off in the wind. Water stood in low spots that hadn’t been there before, because this storm had been big enough to truly change the topography of the land. We’d need to check the dunes on the property. Part of living on the Outer Banks was understanding that we fought a war to keep the land from being reclaimed by the ocean. Sometimes that battle involved making repairs to counter erosion.
A limb had punched through the roof of the garage. “Anything important kept in the top of the garage?”
“I don’t know. There’s a section of attic space there, but I’m not sure whether it’ll be impacted by that hole.”
“I’ll check that in a bit.”
Willa stuck close to me, and Roy close to her, as I worked my way slowly around the perimeter of the house. A handful of the wooden shingles had been ripped off the walls. Debris littered the deck, and some of the railing going down to the beach was gone, along with a few of the steps. But the hurricane panels covering the windows had done their job, and I saw no signs of downed power lines in the immediate vicinity. All in all, it appeared Sutter House had weathered this hurricane as well as it had countless others. There was nothing obvious that I couldn’t repair myself.
The garage was a little worse off. There was water inside and more debris, but the limb had missed the attic. Our vehicles were fine. Not that we could get anywhere if we wanted. Part of the road at the base of the driveway had washed out. We’d have to wait for the water to recede before we attempted to get to town, and that would likely be awhile. If the road had washed out at the base of the hill, it probably was through the marshes, as well. I knew from past experience that authorities would prioritize clearing up the town first, so we’d probably be on our own for a few days, depending on what they were dealing with.
My brain spun as I worked through the details. “God willing, we won’t have any major utility issues. Do you know if the boat in dry dock is seaworthy?” I’d noted the sailboat when we’d been locking things down, but hadn’t spent any time evaluating it.
“It was when Granddaddy put it up last year. After Grandma got sick, he didn’t pull it back out. Didn’t have the time or the heart.”
“We’ll keep that in our pocket as an option in case we need to get to town or the mainland before they deal with the roads.” It wouldn’t be easy to get it to the water from its current location, but if it became necessary, we’d manage.
Willa turned toward the woods, frowning.
“You want to go check on the horses?”
She pulled her lip between her teeth, and for a moment, all I could think of was kissing that little hurt and every other inch of her body. For the thousandth time, I questioned my choice of restraint last night, when it had seemed clear she wanted me as much as I wanted her.
“I know we have plenty to do around here, but if there are a lot of downed trees, it could impact the herd’s ability to move around and forage for food. I just want to know they’re okay.”
I blinked, dragging my brain back to the conversation. Right. A trip into the woods would certainly work off some of this restless energy that we wouldn’t be working off in bed. “Let’s finish checking the utilities first and pull together supplies. If we’re gonna be going for a hike, we ought to go prepared. Boots, day packs, the whole shebang.”
Her shy smile bloomed. “Thank you.”
No reason for me to admit this was far more self-preservation than accommodating her.
The power was, predictably, still out, and cell towers were down. But water and gas appeared to be fine. I hooked up the generator, and we enjoyed a proper cup of coffee with our breakfast of fruit and cereal bars before packing supplies and setting out in search of the herd. Roy trotted only a few feet ahead, sniffing and returning over and over as he explored the changes.
We elected to follow the road around the perimeter of the woods to see how bad the washout was up to the dunes. There were at least two spots that would be impassable until the water dropped. We had to backtrack a ways to higher ground before we entered the trees. It was a little cooler beneath the canopy. While there was certainly damage and stripped leaves, there was a surprising amount of remaining shade. Neither of us spoke as we picked our way over and around downed trees.
At least one of the live oaks had toppled in the storm. Its roots had been yanked from the earth as easily as I might pull a weed. Only a few of the enormous, twisted branches kept it from fully collapsing on its side.
Willa laid a hand on the trunk, obviously grieving a little for the loss. “This tree was well over a hundred years old.”
“It survived a lot. Part of the root ball is still in the ground. It might take a season or two before it fully dies. Maybe we could bring in more dirt or a tree surgeon?”
“That probably isn’t the best use of funds, considering the other higher priorities.”
“Maybe. But they’re your funds to spend as you choose.” Or they would be, once all this bullshit with her parents was put to rest.
She bit her lip again. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to at least consult with someone.”
Leaving the tree behind, we forged ahead. Because Willa knew the area best, I let her lead. She didn’t speak much, and that was fine. We’d always been easy in silence together. Despite the debris of downed branches and leaf litter, she moved quietly. I wondered if she’d worked on this level of stealth in all her years monitoring the horses or if it was simply natural because most everything she did was unobtrusive. A natural attempt to blend into whatever environment she was in.
“It shouldn’t be much farther, assuming they sheltered where I think they did,” she murmured. “Roy, stay close and quiet.”
Another quarter mile in, the forest gave way to a wide grassy area with a small pond. High ground and trees rose on all sides, making it perhaps the most sheltered spot on the property. And I’d had no idea it was here. Below us, the herd huddled together, their coats flecked with drying mud and sand, tails twitching, clearly tired out from weathering the storm.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” I breathed.
Across the clearing, the stallion’s head came up, his ears twitching in our direction, though we were downwind. He’d probably heard us coming.
Willa did a quick count. “Twenty-seven. I think that’s all of them.” Though she’d whispered, the stallion took a few steps in our direction, bouncing his head.
I moved closer, pressing my lips to Willa’s ear. “I’m not sure we’re welcome here.”
“It’ll be all right. I just need to let him know it’s me.”
“Willa—”
Signaling Roy to stay, she ignored the warning in my tone and stepped out of the trees, hands lifted in peace. “Hey, Triton. Hey, buddy. I just came to check on everybody.”
At the sound of Willa’s crooning, multiple heads shifted in her direction. A couple of the mares broke free of the herd and plodded toward her. I braced myself for some kind of action as the stallion—Triton, I assumed—stamped his feet, prowling closer, keeping between Willa and the curious members of his herd.
She held perfectly still. “Hey, pal. Did y’all come through the storm okay? Anybody need medical attention?”
I had no idea what we’d do if she found any injuries. It wasn’t as if we could reach the island vet right now. But maybe she just needed something to say.
All attention was on Willa. My muscles tensed as Triton edged in close enough to snuffle her hair. Still, she didn’t move. Then the stallion’s nose bumped against her shoulder hard enough to knock her back a step.
When I might have bolted toward her, Willa only laughed softly. “All you had to do was ask.” Slowly, she extended her hand, holding it aloft for him to sniff.
When he bumped the long stretch of his nose against her palm, she gave him a gentle rub. He pressed harder, so she obliged with a firmer scratch. “Hard to reach spot, huh?”
Triton snorted and leaned into the touch, much as Roy did when she’d found an especially good spot.
Holy shit. Of course, she was a freaking horse whisperer. She’d been in love with these animals from the time she was a toddler.
“You’re looking all distinguished now, aren’t you? Getting some gray mixed in with the black.”
At her words, I realized this was the same stallion who’d been leading the herd since we were kids. While he’d once been coal black, his coat was now more of a pewter gray.
The stallion let Willa scratch for another couple of minutes before bobbing his head and stepping back. The two curious mares came next, and they went through the whole process over again. I didn’t step out, and she didn’t invite me. The herd was clearly used to her, and I didn’t want to unnecessarily stress them and potentially upset this delicate balance.
Once the mares had satisfied their curiosity, Willa slowly circled the entire herd, presumably looking for any obvious injuries. When she made it back around to where I stood, I shook my head. “Damnedest thing I’ve ever seen. Did you see what you needed to see?”
“Yeah. They’re safe here, with plenty of water and grass. Later, we’ll probably need to bring in some supplemental food, but I don’t think they’re stuck. We can head on back.”
“I suggest we try a different route. I think if we cut across here, it shouldn’t be that far to the beach as the crow flies. It’ll be a little longer maybe, but easier going.”
“That sounds like a plan.”
We were maybe half a mile from the beach where I’d fished her out of the ocean all those years ago, but I didn’t mention that. If she didn’t realize where we were, hopefully, she wouldn’t have the kind of reaction she had in the car the other day.
We worked our way toward the Atlantic side of the island, discussing next steps for back at the house. In all likelihood, it would be a couple of days before we could get out. But we were well stocked, and with the generator, we’d be good for at least a few days.
As the path widened out a little, I took Willa’s hand, wanting the connection. “You seem lighter today.”
She swung our joined hands companionably between us. “I feel lighter. The house survived, and so did the horses. It feels like maybe the worst is over and this will be the last major excitement for a bit. We could use some dull.”
“I’m all for that.” I wanted the chance to get back to what was supposed to be our honeymoon period. And if that was because I was starting to consider an actual honeymoon with my wife, well… I was still coming to terms with what that might mean.
Well ahead, I could see the end of the treeline and the hint of beach beyond.
Willa grinned up at me.
“First one to the treeline gets dibs on the first shower.” She took off without waiting for my reply.
“Hey!” I bolted after her.
Laughing, she danced and dodged over limbs. With my longer legs, I was closing the distance. Willa glanced back, and I caught the flash of her smile just before her foot snagged on something and she went flying, crashing headlong into the dirt.
“Oh, shit! Are you okay?” I rushed to her.
She shoved up partway, spitting sand out of her mouth. “I—” Abruptly, she froze, then scrambled back on a scream.
“What is it?” Reaching her side, my gaze caught on something white inches away, peeking out of the earth.
There, wedged into the sand, was a human skull with a round hole right between the empty eye sockets.