7

It was soft beneath her…a bed. Tara tried to open her eyes, but an intense, head-splitting pain drew a groan from her. Finally she could pry one eye open.

Darkness. She moved her head to look around. This room…this bed…the feather pillow smelling of lavender—they weren’t hers. Where was she? What day was it?

She sat up slowly. The glowing green of a digital clock aggravated the excruciating pain in her head. She forced herself to push through and read the time: 1:21 p.m.

Another look around the room. Is this…a hotel?

With some effort she shoved back the layers of fluffy bedding. The sheets and comforter were heavy, as if weighted. She swung her feet off the side of the bed and stretched them until they touched the scratchy carpet. Pressing a palm against a temple seemed to help. Well, maybe a tiny amount. Her fingers touched…stitches?

Oh yeah, the roof fell in and she hit her head. No wonder she had a headache.

Tara stumbled across the floor and into a small adjoining bathroom. She rummaged around the dark room’s countertop until she found her zippered travel bag. Apparently she’d remembered to pack it. After several moments of digging, she found the Vicodin. The doctor had warned her that she might have severe headaches for a while. She unscrewed the cap, swallowed one pill along with as much water as she could force down, staggered back to the bed, and eased down on top of the duvet, closing her eyes.

She stirred, peering at the clock. Twenty minutes had passed. Thank heavens her headache had subsided enough so she could think a little. Wherever she was, the room was dark and cool, and the white noise of the air conditioner soothed her head.

She stood and opened the light-blocking curtains, immediately wincing at the blinding sunlight. She closed them again and struggled to place herself in the strange surroundings. This had to be the St. Simons hotel room that Sean helped her book. Where were her brothers now?

Oh. Of course. They wouldn’t be asleep this time of day.

A small desk with a charging station was in the corner of the room, and her white iPhone was plugged in. Had she done that, or had someone else? She walked over and picked up the device. Where had all these texts come from?

She unlocked the phone and started opening them.

Hadley: Love you, Tara. Haven’t heard from you in a while. Please call me when you get this message.

Elliott: Can you give us a check-in?

Lynn: We’re praying for you. Call soon.

The list of texts continued. Tara touched the stitches again. Why was everyone back home so worried about her? She rubbed her temple. Where could her brothers be? Ice cream on the pier? Or maybe they’d rented bikes?

She went back into her phone’s texts and scrolled down until she found Darryl’s name. The last text he sent read:

I’m on the island having fun. Catch me if you can. If you can’t, I’ll come find you soon.

Well, that didn’t tell her a lot. Her brothers and their pranks! Where on the island? Oh well. She typed back a reply.

I’ll come meet you. What are you up to?

The same message immediately bounced back from Darryl. He must have set up an autoreply and didn’t have his phone where he could reach it. After a minute with no additional response, she copied the message and sent a duplicate to Sean. Surely one of them had a phone with them.

She scrolled back to Hadley’s text, asking for a call. She might as well do that to ease her friends’ minds.

Hadley answered. “Tara?”

“Hey, Hads. I got your message. I’m here on St. Simons. I’m okay, other than a wicked headache. But I took some medicine.”

“I’m so glad to hear from you. Another few hours of no calls or texts, and Elliott or I would be driving your way.”

“Sorry.” When had she seen Hadley and Elliott last? She had some vague memories of her friends in the hospital with her. Or was that part of a vivid dream, one of many she seemed to be having ever since the storm?

Hadley cleared her throat. “You know, as it turns out, I could actually get away this week. I think only God could order my life where I can take off spur of the moment. It wouldn’t be any trouble. My girls are at camp all week, and a friend of mine could volunteer at the camp instead of me. I’d stay out of your way, I promise. But I would be nearby just in case.”

Why were they fussing over her so much? It was a huge imposition for Hadley or Elliott to drive all this way. They needed to stay home and tend to their families. Besides, Sean and Darryl could help her if it came to that. “No, that’s okay. I’m fine, I promise. I was just sleeping in. It’s only my first day. Lots of people get jet lag, no head wound required.”

“Tara, honey…it’s Thursday. You’ve been gone two days.”

Thursday? How could it be Thursday? “R-Right.”

Suddenly the dark of the hotel room closed in on her. She needed to go out and find Sean and Darryl. Then everything would be okay. “Sorry. You know, I’m just dealing with a lot.”

“Vicodin by itself is enough to completely disorient you, but the doctor was pretty adamant that you need to continue taking it for the next few weeks. He believes the research that indicates the less pain people experience after surgery, the faster they’ll heal.”

“Okay. Not a problem.” How long would her brain function in a fog like this? It was weird and disorienting. “But I don’t need anyone coming down. I’m okay. I think I’ll go eat something and find some strong coffee.”

“Food would be a good idea.” Why did Hadley sound so hesitant?

Tara rubbed her forehead. “Did someone get the roof repairs started? I’ll need a roof on my house soon.”

Hadley sighed. “It makes me feel a little better to hear you ask about it. Yes, we have the process started, and we’ll figure out the insurance when you return.”

“Great. I’m going to see if this hotel can extend my stay for at least another week. Might as well, with the roof and all.”

“If that’s what you need.”

“It seems like the best possible thing for me now. Besides the immediate need of coffee.”

“Okay. And, Tara…”

“Yes?”

“I’m here for you, however and whatever you need. Elliott is too. We love you. You know that, right?”

“Sure. Thank you.” Tara opened the curtain and looked out the window. The trees were covered in Spanish moss. Hadley was really over the top about this injury. Had she scared Hadley and Elliott that badly in the hospital?

They said their goodbyes, and Tara ended the call. A box of granola bars and a liter-size bottle of water sat on her dresser, some of which she must have eaten and drunk the previous day while she rested. She opened a bar and took a few bites while she got the shower going.

In no time she was dressed in the new white eyelet midi dress that Sean had purchased for her. She slipped her small leather purse across her shoulder. Thank goodness the headache was much better, although not completely gone.

She stepped out of the room and pulled the door closed to lock and then frowned. Sean’s and Darryl’s suitcases weren’t in the hotel room. At least she hadn’t seen them. Maybe they were tucked in a closet. Or maybe they left them in the car. She’d ask them about it when she found them.

She walked through the halls, into the hotel lobby, and out the front door into the brilliant sunlight and cringed at the shock of pain it brought. She got a pair of sunglasses out of her purse and chuckled when they fogged up after going from the air-conditioned hotel to the hot, humid air of South Georgia. She pulled out her cell and took a photo of herself with fogged-up sunglasses and then sent it to Hadley and Elliot. They were sure to appreciate it, and maybe it would put them a little more at ease about her being here.

Tara snapped picture after picture on her phone as she walked down the village street. She loved cute, small towns, and this one was heavy on the charm, which explained why it was also heavy on the crowds.

After calling her brothers’ cell phones again and getting no answer, she grabbed a burger and fries from the vintage-looking café near the pier. When she finished her food and walked outside to the seaside park, she noticed the lighthouse.

Something fell into place.

Sean had talked about climbing the stairs of the lighthouse. Maybe that’s where they were, waiting for her. She could imagine Sean taking lots of photos from the tower, using his nice camera.

As soon as I find them, everything will make sense.