Chapter thirty-six

Pat watched the weather forecast in disbelief. Tropical storm? It was barely June. And the bright sunshine outside did little to change her mind.

"Additional strengthening is expected in the next twenty-four hours. We'll have an update at ten. Stay tuned."

Well, it was still far out in the gulf. Maybe it would turn and Louisiana could worry about it. Pat hated storms. She hated the buildup, the preparations, the boarding up of her house. And she especially hated it when she went through all of that and the damn storm hit hundreds of miles away. But still, she never took a chance. She had lived on the coast too long for that.

Her phone rang immediately. It would be Aunt Rachel. It always was when a storm formed.

"Did you hear?"

"Yes. I heard."

"You'll stay here, of course. Alice has already called. They'll be here tomorrow to start securing everything."

"Aunt Rachel, it's still in the Caribbean. It'll be days before they even know which way it's going."

"You can't be too careful," she said.

"You get like this every time the first one forms. By November, you hardly care."

"And bring your own liquor. I'll not have you stranded here for days and expect to share mine."

Pat laughed. It was another standing joke between them. Aunt Rachel laughed, too.

"But seriously, don't take any chances, Pat. Board your house when the time comes. I don't want to worry about you."

"You'll never let me live that down, will you? That was years ago," she said. In fact, it was the first year she'd lived in the house. She'd lost nearly everything, all because she didn't believe the forecast. She'd escaped with her cameras and made it to a bar on the bay side. She'd had a wonderful time as they watched the storm rage around them.

"No, I won't. And perhaps you should check in with Dr. Cambridge. I'm sure she could use some help out there. To think they just finished with the construction. It would be such a shame to lose all that in a storm. Why, remember Carla?"

"How old do you think I am?"

"Old enough to have heard my stories a hundred times."

"Okay. I'll check in with Dr. Cambridge," Pat said.

"You like her, don't you?" Aunt Rachel said unexpectedly.

"Of course I like her."

"Good. She's gay, you know. Elsa told me."

"Elsa told you?"

"Well, I asked her," Aunt Rachel admitted. "I thought that perhaps she was, but you never know nowadays."

"Don't meddle," Pat warned. "She's fragile."

"Fragile? She is no such thing. She can handle you."

Pat laughed. "But I'm not so sure I can handle her."

Chapter thirty-seven

"Yes, I heard," Carly said. "I don't fucking believe it, but I heard."

"We've got plenty of time. Don't worry," Elsa said.

"It'll flood the marsh and we've not planted. I'm not worried about he structures. The Visitor's Center is sound. The ranch house is far enough from the bay. And there's the barrier island. But the storm surge. We'll be starting over with the marsh."

"Calm down. You're sounding hysterical."

"I am hysterical. This could set us back months," she said.

"Open a bottle of wine," Elsa suggested.

"I've done that."

"Well, then try drinking it."

And Carly did just that. She pulled one of the chairs out onto the front porch and sat watching the bay as the water shown in the moonlight. It was a crystal clear night, belying the storm that was hiding far in the distance. In the six months she had been here, she'd grown to love this piece of property. And in the few weeks that she'd actually been living here, she'd grown accustomed to the peaceful bay. The gulf could turn angry and the bay was always at its mercy.

She thought of the marsh, nearly ready for the planting of the native coastal grasses and reeds. Even a minor storm would flood it. It could take weeks to drain. But she didn't want to think about that. She could not control nature.

She could hear the phone ringing upstairs. She'd not brought it down with her and she didn't relish running up the stairs to catch it. Then, a short time later, her cell phone rang. It was still strapped to her waist.

"Hello."

"Am I interrupting?"

"You're only interrupting my worrying," she said.

"It'll be okay."

"I'm worried about my egrets," she admitted.

"They've seen storms before."

"Not the babies."

"Where are you?"

"On the porch. Watching the bay. You?"

"On the deck. Watching the gulf."

Carly smiled. "And is it doing anything?"

"Still coming towards me. I guess that's a good sign."

"Will your house be okay if a storm hits?"

"Well, I guess I'm glad I didn't have it painted," Pat said. "But yes, I'll board it up, as usual. Will you need some help out there?"

"Yes. I'll need you to be here," she said without thinking.

"Then I'll be there."

Carly cradled the phone against her shoulder as she twirled the wine in her glass. She glanced up and looked at the moon, only half full.

"I can always count on you, can't I?"

"Yes. Always."

"You're very good for me, you know. You make me laugh. Elsa said that I haven't laughed in years. I think she may be right."

"I hope to always make you laugh, Carly."

"I missed you today. I thought maybe that the labels yesterday scared you off. We finished, you know."

Pat laughed. "I had a meeting with the magazine guy today. We were writing captions for my pictures. I think I impressed him by actually knowing the names of all the birds."

"You'll be a birder before you know it."

"Carly, stop threatening me."

"Oh, you're so full of shit, Pat. You pretend to detest all of this, but you're just a naturalist at heart."

"I'm offended."

"No, you're not. I think you love this as much as I do."

"If you tell anyone, I'll deny it. I have a reputation, you know."

Carly smiled. There was a storm brewing, a storm that could ruin what she'd worked so hard for, and yet she smiled. Pat did that to her.

"I'm really glad you called. I think maybe I can sleep now," she said.

"I'll be out tomorrow. We'll know about the storm then. We've got time," she said.

"Yes. A another day, at least."

"Don't drink the whole bottle," Pat said.

Carly laughed. "How did you know?"

"I heard you pouring. Red wine, right?"

"Yes. And it's too late. The bottle is empty."

"Well, I'll bring aspirin tomorrow."