“You’re going to get an ulcer from all of this.” Carter sat on Stella’s worn sofa, thumbing through a worn copy of New York Times as Tess frantically dialed another number.
“I have to get out of here—did you hear what Stella said?”
Carter nodded. “A tropical storm has been upgraded to hurricane—but only an F-1 hurricane, Tess. It’s just a gale. With the proper precautions we’ll be fine.”
“How do you know this?” She hadn’t allowed a forecast to register since leaving Denver.
“I’m an air traffic controller at O’Hare. I know my storms.”
The man was the Rock of Gibraltar. Didn’t he know that he and his “flight controller’s” attitude was about to be blown off the face of the map?
She dialed the third charter flight number and met with the same results: no flights were leaving the island until the storm passed. Slamming the receiver back into the cradle, she dropped into a chair and crossed her arms.
“Need a Tagamet?” Carter said, his gaze never leaving the magazine.
“Very funny.” She turned to him. “Aren’t you the least concerned that we’re trapped?”
“I’m concerned, but I’m smart enough to know that I’m not in charge of the situation.” He got up to look out of the windows. Wind lashed the tops of palms; a garbage can lid whipped by the window. “I called to find out where the nearest shelter is—if we need to go there we can.”
“We’ll be safe,” Stella said. She sat on the sofa with the cat around her neck again, a pleasant demeanor on her face. The cat appeared to be sleeping placidly. “Henry and I have ridden out many a tropical storm and lived to tell about them. Remember ’92, Henry? Hurricane Iniki. It was September; the storm wasn’t predicted to have any effect on the island, but we woke to the sound of air-raid sirens. Iniki had decided to do a switchback overnight and was headed straight for us. I filled every pot and pan in the house with water—even filled the bathtubs. The radio said to put plywood on all the windows. I watched television until the announcer said the power would be turned off when the wind speed reached 45 knots, and that we should expect sustained winds to 165 miles per hour. Iniki had become a category five hurricane—the largest they get.” Stella reached up and ran a spider-veined hand along Henry’s side. “We did our share of visiting with the Lord that night, didn’t we, boy?”
Tess got up and began pacing.
“Relax,” Carter advised. “We’ll take whatever precautions are needed.” He glanced at Stella. “Do I need to do anything? Nail plywood, close the storm shutters?”
Stella smiled. “Not yet. Let’s see what Ms. Alana does next. Often storms veer off and we just get the rain and wind.”
Tess closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She felt a pressure in her head that she was certain would balloon into an aneurysm any moment. Why weren’t they doing something? Surely there was some precaution they could be taking other than this maddening sitting and waiting around for whatever came their way. This just wasn’t right!
Seconds later, she felt the gentle pressure of Carter’s hand on her right shoulder. She opened her eyes. “The NHC has issued a ‘Hurricane Watch’; this means the storm will make landfall normally within twenty-four hours—but the watch usually includes a fairly wide area. It’s late in the year for hurricanes. Like Stella says, could be we’ll only get gale-force winds, high water, and flash flood situations.”
“And this doesn’t alarm you?” Where was the Tylenol?
“All flights will be canceled until the storm abates,” Carter said, a sympathetic look on his face.
“Come sit, dear.” Stella patted the seat next to her. “We’ll likely have a rough time of it, but nothing our Lord isn’t in charge of. We’ll be fine.”
“The point is,” Carter added quietly, “we need to heed the warning and take precautions. But we’re here, Tess, under God’s grace and His protection.”
Grace. God had never shown her any grace. Had He shown grace by letting Len fire her? Had He shown grace through Mona? Had He shown grace by putting her in a situation in which she had no control?
“How long does it take for a hurricane to pass?” she asked weakly.
“The storm will be here in a few hours, most likely, and then runs its course in ten days or less,” Stella said.
Ten days.
And Tess couldn’t do a thing to stop it.
Grace.
She might as well wish for a million dollars.