IN PEACHTREE BLUFF, HOMES ARE referred to by the name of the person who originally owned them. So, Jack’s house was the Sloane house, Caroline’s was the Turner house, and so on and so forth. It didn’t matter that the house where Adam and Sloane were currently living had been owned by my family for four generations. It would, forever and always, be the Thomas house. I loved the sense of history here, so that was totally fine by me. But it did fill me with glee that, with our house, Jack’s house, and Caroline’s house on the same street, our block had been granted the nickname “Murphy Row.”
Yesterday, after we finished decorating the tree and walking, we had done everything we could to batten the hatches on Murphy Row. We closed and wired the shutters shut, hammered plywood over the doors, and piled sandbags in front of them. We had taped the insides of the windows up so, if they shattered, the mess might be more minimal. Kyle and Adam had done most of the heavy lifting, but we had all chipped in, even the kids.
Now, I walked slowly—one last time before we left for our trip—down Peachtree’s beautiful boardwalk. I had never, not in all my years here, seen this harbor completely devoid of boats. Many of them were fine to ride out a small hurricane, so they were often in their slips during storm warnings. So the fact that the dock was totally empty filled me with dread. Usually, the boardwalk and town dock were the epicenter of Peachtree, bustling with activity from both the townspeople and visitors. But now, there wasn’t a single car downtown, and every window was boarded up and lined with sandbags. Many of the stores had spray-painted messages on their plywood. GO HOME, JIM! Or PASS OVER US, PEARL!
Dockmaster Dan approached, and I waved at him sadly. He was thin and weathered and looked as if he had been here as long as this boardwalk. And, as usual, his NO THINKIN’, JUST DRINKIN’ hat was firmly atop his head.
“You getting ready to leave?” he asked.
I nodded. “You?”
He gave me his sideways grin. “Nah.” He patted the dock rail. “She’s my ship. I gotta be here to protect her.”
I looked out over my beloved Starlite Island one last time. Her dense layer of trees and foliage had protected this town for as long as she had been here. I was hoping it would be enough to protect Peachtree again as my phone beeped in my hand. Mandatory Evacuation for Peachtree Bluff, Georgia, 5 pm. Good Lord. Suddenly, it all felt too scary, too ominous. I needed to get out of here.
“Please be careful,” I said.
He nodded. “Will do.” Then he was off to continue his pacing, to keep his watch over the section of town that he alone was responsible for.
I turned to walk back to the house, reassuring myself. We were ready. Or as ready as we could be, anyway. It was impossible to know what to expect. If we moved everything from the first floor to the second, would we lose the roof? And if we moved everything from the second floor to the first, would it flood? My house—well, Adam and Sloane’s house now—was built up, making it one of the highest points in Peachtree Bluff, at least a few feet above sea level. Technically, it wasn’t in a flood plain. But who knew what the storm of the century would bring? I shuddered at the thought, and, despite my proclamations that this storm wouldn’t, couldn’t come, I was so grateful for the technology alerting us when to get off the island to safety. It was killing me to imagine being on a boat so far away from Peachtree, to not be here to assess the aftermath of the storm. But, as Jack reminded me, Sloane and Adam could handle it.
I forgot sometimes that they were grown-up adults. I forgot that they didn’t need me to micromanage every moment of their lives. Letting go was hard. Although three houses and two businesses were a lot for anyone to handle in the aftermath of a hurricane.
I made my way back to the house. I knew all the kids would be leaving soon, and even though we were leaving too, it made me sad that our few days of fun were over. Even the promise of the beauty of Australia wasn’t as wonderful as my children and grandchildren being all together.
As I walked up the driveway, Emerson was slamming the back hatch on one of a pair of hired Suburbans. “There you are,” she said. “We have to leave in a few minutes.”
I followed her onto the back porch of Sloane and Adam’s house, my house, and saw everyone gathered in the kitchen. I put on my brave face.
Caroline had Vivi by the shoulders and was in the middle of a speech. “And don’t forget that the school wants a three-page paper on your experience in addition to your keeping up with your work.” Caroline wrapped Vivi in a hug, and it looked to me like Vivi actually hugged her back. It was a sweet moment. “Promise me that you’ll behave. Do not give Gransley and Grandjack any reason to worry.”
“I promise, Mom,” Vivi said. “Our rooms are adjoining, and I’ll never leave their sight unless I’m doing schoolwork and they are out exploring.”
It hit me then that being responsible for someone else’s child in a foreign country was huge, even when it was your own grandchild and they’d be staying next door to you. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be on the boat with her, but there were so many things that could go wrong. She could run away or get sick or lost or hurt. I reminded myself that doctors were aboard and we could be flown home at a moment’s notice. Security abounded. But Vivi was right about one thing: I wouldn’t let her out of my sight.
Caroline gave me a big hug and kissed me on both cheeks. “I love you. Thank you so much for doing this for me. There is no way to repay you ever.”
I smiled like I was delighted by the prospect of Caroline owing me. “There’s no need to thank me. I’m happy to get to spend some quality time with my granddaughter. I’ll bring her back tan and cultured and in one piece.”
“See you Christmas Eve Eve,” Caroline said, grinning.
“Gwansley!” Preston called, running up to me. He held out a conch shell, and I gasped like it was the first one I’d ever seen. Come to think of it, it felt like that. So many of the marvels of Peachtree Bluff did: dolphins jumping, a full sand dollar, the staurolite or fairy stones—as they were often called—that inhabited our favorite island. It was a brand-new thrill every time. I picked up my grandson and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. “Love you,” I said.
“Wuv you,” he said back.
To Sloane and Adam, I said, “Thank you for taking care of the house.” I paused. “All the insurance information is in the safe at the store. Just in case.”
“Ansley, promise me you won’t worry,” Adam said.
“I could, but we both know I’d be lying,” I said, smiling. I looked at my family’s now-empty hands. “Let me get you some drinks and snacks for the road.”
“Remember the old days when Kyle brought us coffee whenever we left Peachtree?” Emerson asked, coming over to kiss me. She was as nostalgic as I was. “Love you,” she said. “It’s all going to be fine. We’ll all be back for Christmas, and it will be like the hurricane never happened.”
“We have plenty of snacks and drinks in the car,” Sloane said, hugging me, AJ and Taylor each grasping one of my legs.
I finished kissing everyone goodbye and sent them on their way. It gave me a moment’s pause that my entire family—minus Jack and Vivi—was boarding the same plane. I wondered if other people had macabre thoughts like this or if I tended toward the dark side of tragedy because of the out-of-the-blue horror of losing my first husband. I rarely ever told a member of my family goodbye without wondering if this would be the last time I saw them.
I peeked my head in the back door. “Viv and Jack, I’m headed down to the store to tie up loose ends. I’ll be ready to go in about an hour!”
“Okay!” they called back in unison.
“I’m almost finished packing!” Vivi added.
As I made my way to the sidewalk, I saw Kimmy. “Don’t forget we’ve got to be out of here by five o’clock,” I said.
She shook her head. “I’m not leaving.”
I gasped. “Kimmy, you have to leave!”
“I can’t leave my crops, Ansley. You know that. If something happens, I need to be here.”
“If something happens, you need to be gone,” I argued. “Even you are no match for the storm of the century.” Simply uttering the phrase gave me cold chills. “Kimmy, they open the drawbridges, and you are stuck here. No way in, no way out.”
She grinned. “Just like I like it.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine. “Do you have enough provisions?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Plenty of water? People forget that during a hurricane the water often gets contaminated.”
“Ans, I have plenty of water and food and booze and flashlights. I have blankets and firewood and everything I need. My brother and parents are staying at my house too.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Why would anyone in their right mind not evacuate?”
She laughed. “My baby brother isn’t in his right mind. He’s a total weather nerd. His life goal is to be a storm chaser.”
“Like those idiots on TV who drive into tornadoes?”
She nodded. “When he heard Jim Cantore was here, there was no keeping him away.”
“And your parents just let him stay? They don’t want to evacuate?” I knew that Kimmy’s brother was still in high school.
She shrugged. “They’re crazy locals now too. They aren’t that worried.”
“Well, you’re all nuts,” I said. “I have lived through what were considered small Peachtree hurricanes, and I never want to do it again.”
“We’ll be fine,” she said. “I promise.”
No one could make promises when it came to Mother Nature or acts of God. That I knew for sure. “Will you text me?” I asked.
“I will. I’m not sure how good your reception is going to be in the middle of the ocean, but I will.”
I nodded.
“Hal is going to bunk up with me, and so are Keith and Roger. Get themselves out of downtown.” Kimmy’s farm was a better choice since it was a few miles off the water. She usually fared pretty well. And probably would do especially well considering Roger, our mailman, was staying with her. I had long had my suspicions that he and Kimmy were a bit of an item, but, in true Kimmy fashion, she would never cop to it.
“That makes me feel a little better. At least you won’t be alone. Take care of yourself—and the rest of your family too.”
I turned and kept walking down the street, not even surprised that Hal, Keith, and Roger weren’t evacuating either. It made me kind of furious that I had to worry about so many of my friends. I mean, what part of “mandatory evacuation” did these people not understand? Sure, they’d never evacuated before. But this was the “storm of the century,” for heaven’s sake.
Leah was standing right by the front door of the store when I opened it. “Let’s go over these final few details for the redesign proposal of Dr. Wyatt’s office, and then, Ansley, we need to get the heck out of Dodge.”
We reviewed the plans for a few minutes, and then I looked around, going through what we’d done yesterday to prepare for the hurricane. My little store looked so sad. We had moved everything we could as far back as we could to protect it from floodwaters, which, since the building was at sea level, were nearly inevitable. It wasn’t whether they would come through the door; it was how far they would make it.
The door opened again, and a man almost ran right smack into me. “Oh, hi,” he said.
“Wes,” I said, smiling.
A boy coming to my store in search of Caroline was far from an uncommon occurrence. It had been happening for decades. It had even happened with this same boy many years earlier.
“Oh,” he said again, noticing Leah. “Sorry to interrupt. I was just looking for Caroline.”
I smiled sympathetically. Again, not my first sympathetic smile to a boy in my store about Caroline. “She’s already on her way to New York, sweetie,” I said.
He nodded. “Oh, okay. I just wanted to make sure y’all were okay.” He paused. “Can I help with anything, Ansley?”
A boy being helpful so I would get him on Caroline’s good side was really my favorite kind. I shook my head. “I think we’re all set. But you need to get out of town. We all do.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Looks like it’s going to be a big one.” I almost thought he blushed as he said, “Hey, um, Ansley?”
Leah looked extraordinarily annoyed and walked off as she said, “I’ll just be over here when you’re finished.”
Wes bit his lip, paused, and then said, “Not to put you in a weird spot, but…”
“Yup,” I said. “I think she likes you.”
He laughed. “Am I that transparent?”
“Yup!” Leah called from the back.
“Sorry,” I said. “No one here is trying to embarrass you.”
“I am!” Leah called again, and we all laughed.
I shook my head. “Seriously. She needs to move forward. It’s time.”
He smiled. “I hope I can help.” He paused. “Hey, be safe out there.”
As he left, Leah walked back to me and sighed. “Welcome to the Caroline Murphy dating center.”
I laughed. “I’ve placed the order for the office’s fourteen chairs,” Leah said. “We need a huge piece of art for the hallway, and I was hoping Sloane would do it.”
I shook my head. “She doesn’t have time. Let’s find someone else.”
Leah nodded, and I patted her arm. I had a feeling she was using this project to procrastinate and avoid the very real fear welling up in all of us. “It’s time,” I said, my stomach fluttering. “We’ve done all we can, and we need to go.” I smiled, probably looking braver than I felt. “Leah, please be safe.”
“I’ll come back the minute the bridges are open, and if I can’t reach you on the boat, don’t worry. I promise I’ll still take care of everything.”
I knew she would. “I’m not worried about the store. I’m worried about you. So please don’t come back until it’s safe.”
In truth, I was a little worried about the store. I looked around at my dark, boarded-up shop, all its contents covered in tarps.
“Do you think it will all be gone when we come back?” Leah asked quietly. “Can it survive the storm of the century?”
I smiled, acting braver than I felt. “This town has made it through hundreds of hurricanes. One won’t destroy it now,” I said, trying to comfort her.
Especially not a nice Southern girl like Pearl.