Still clutching Alfred’s raincoat, Evan slowly fought his way back to the hunting lodge. The rain had subsided, but rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning warned there was more to come. Battered and worn, he had no idea how long his struggle against the elements had taken before he finally dragged himself up the steps to the hunting lodge. With his remaining strength, he pushed open the door and fell inside the room.
“Evan!” Harland crossed the distance between them in several long strides. “I’ve been praying for your safety, boy.” Using his shoulder, Harland pushed the door closed and then fell against it as the wind once again raised a screeching howl. “You didn’t get back here any too soon. I think we’re in for another round.”
Evan dropped Alfred’s slicker onto the floor. His stomach lurched at the sight of the rumpled raincoat. Surges of pounding guilt and sorrow now replaced the battering he’d withstood from the storm. He couldn’t tell Harland what had happened—not yet. The words wouldn’t come, even if he tried. “What time is it?”
“Near three o’clock. We’ve got at least four more hours until we see any sign of daylight. And if this doesn’t let up, it will be even longer.” He grabbed a towel and blanket and handed them to Evan. “Best get out of those wet clothes.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “You were gone so long I was beginning to think the Lord hadn’t heard my prayers.”
Delilah padded to Evan’s side and wound between his legs before quickly moving away. Evan gestured to the cat. “Best stay clear of me if you don’t want to get wet, Delilah.” He glanced at Harland. “Delilah got anything to say about this weather?”
Harland shook his head. “Nothing good.”
Evan looked around the room. Harland had done his best to fortify the downstairs against the wind and rain. A heavy gun cabinet had been moved in front of one window while other large pieces of furniture blocked the other windows and rear door.
“Now that you’re back here safe and sound, I’m gonna push this bookcase in front of the door.”
“It’s too heavy. Let me help you.” Evan jumped to his feet, and between the two of them, they moved the heavy piece of furniture close enough to block the front door.
Once they’d completed the task, Harland motioned toward the stairs. “Now you best go up and change out of those wet clothes.”
Evan didn’t argue. His bones felt as though they’d been chilled to the marrow and would never again feel warmth. When he returned downstairs, Harland was sitting in one of the large leather chairs, his forehead wrinkled with concern. “The men get back to their quarters? I hope they had the sense to block the windows. You tell ’em to block the windows?”
“I think they know to block the windows, Harland.” Most of those men knew more about storms and hurricanes than Evan did. They’d lived on the coast for all of their lives. “Only a few of them were willing to go out in the storm and help secure the cottages and clubhouse. I don’t know if they’re safe. I couldn’t make it over there once I left the boathouse.”
“Don’t like hearing the men wouldn’t follow orders. Some of ’em may find themselves without a job if they try that again.”
Harland’s words cut Evan like a sharp knife, and he dropped to one of the chairs. If Alfred had refused to go, he’d still be alive. His throat closed as he pointed to the rain slicker on the floor. How could he tell Harland about Alfred if he couldn’t even say the boy’s name? Harland cast a glance at the raincoat before his gaze settled on Evan.
“That belong to one of our men? Is someone missing out in the storm?” The alarm in his voice matched the panic that flashed in his eyes. “Who is it? What happened, Evan? Tell me!” He jumped up from his chair and crossed the distance between them in three long strides. “Who did we lose out there?”
“Alfred.” He covered his face with his palms as he choked out the boy’s name. “I didn’t keep him safe, Harland.”
“Tell me what happened.” The older man sat down in the chair beside him.
Once Evan was able to speak, he told how Alfred went out to watch the storm. “I shouted at him to stay inside.” Grief choked him as he told how he’d searched for the young man but found nothing except for the raincoat. “I told him to fasten it, but he didn’t listen.”
Harland patted his shoulder. “Fastened or not, the raincoat wouldn’t have saved him if a surge hit the boathouse deck. You can’t blame yourself, Evan. He didn’t listen to your warning.” Harland leaned back and stroked his chin. “Doesn’t look like you believe me, but if there’s blame that needs placing for the boy’s death, you can put it square on my shoulders. I’m the one who told you to take him to the boathouse, so the fault is mine, not yours.”
Evan shook his head. “This isn’t your fault, Harland.”
“And it isn’t yours, either. It was an accident—a sad and tragic accident that will haunt both of us for a long time to come. I think it might help both of us if we did some Bible reading and praying.” He smiled, but the sadness in his eyes didn’t disappear. “You want to join me?”
The lights flickered and Evan glanced at a lamp between the chairs. “We may need to read by lantern light if the electricity gives out, but I know it would help me to do some Bible reading. Maybe I’ll find something that will help take away some of this guilt.”
“The boy had choices, Evan. He could listen to your counsel and remain safe, or go about his own way and deal with the consequences. I don’t mean to sound harsh, but we’ve each and every one of us got those same choices to make. Some of us make mistakes and live to try again. Sometimes those mistakes are deadly. Either way, it ain’t up to us to make another fella’s choices. If Alfred would have done as he was told, he’d be right here with us.”
“It hurts just the same,” Evan admitted. “No matter who’s to blame.”
“Indeed it does.” Harland handed him one of the Bibles from the bookcase. “But this is the best salve I know. You might want to start with Romans, chapter eight.”
Evan hadn’t finished reading the chapter when Delilah arched her back and screeched an ear-splitting yowl. The electricity went off at the same moment, and Evan was thankful they’d taken care to light a lantern. With a ferocity that caused the hunting lodge to shudder around them, the storm returned with renewed force. From behind their furniture barricades, glass shattered, and the wind did battle with the heavy wooden objects. Rain seeped through the windows and beneath the doors.
The heavy chest they’d moved in front of a side window teetered. “Help me hold it in place!” Both men pushed to hold their weight against the chest while Harland prayed aloud for strength. “I think the worst of the storm is upon us, Evan. Pray the winds will shift and move away from the islands and mainland.”
Evan prayed.
The hours passed like days. The wind, thunder, lightning, and rain continued, but by midmorning the storm had lost much of its intensity. The two men sloshed through the water that had entered the lodge during the tidal surge that hit in the early morning hours. Delilah remained safe and dry on the stairway leading to the second floor, watching Evan and Harland as they pushed the bookcase away from the front door.
Evan gestured toward the cat. “Looks like Delilah may have to live on the stairs and second floor until we get all this water out of here.”
Harland chuckled. “You can be sure she won’t get her paws wet, and that’s a fact.” He grunted as he moved the bookcase far enough to open the door. “Might as well get out here and see what’s left of the place.”
The skies remained dark and foreboding, but Harland appeared calm. Uprooted trees had been tossed about like sticks. A giant cypress blocked the main path from the lodge, the limbs stretched in awkward angles like broken appendages, but Harland motioned him forward. “Getting this tree out of the path will be one of our first tasks. Let’s make our way over to the O’Sullivans’ place, and then we’ll move on to the workers’ quarters, the boathouse, the clubhouse, and the cottages. Best to check out the damage and then decide what needs our attention right away. Don’t even need to go see the windmill—it was probably the first thing to fall.”
Evan stared in disbelief as they picked their way through the piles of debris that blocked their path at every turn. A gnawing emptiness settled in the pit of his stomach, the void deepening with each remembrance of Alfred’s death. The thought of finding other dead or wounded workers pressed on him like a heavy weight. At least Melinda was safe.