Taken by Storm Page 15

  “But Maggie—”

  “No.” Maggie’s blue-green eyes bored into Leila’s. She hated to admit it, but being in the dark, humid basement brought back memories of the flood she’d done her damnedest to put behind her, but failed. The only way to not sink into a full-blown panic attack, was for her to work hard enough, fast enough, so she couldn’t focus on anything else.

  It worked but hadn’t prevented the nightmares from coming, night after night. In her dreams, she drowned. Ryan was hurt, and she couldn’t save him, then she was sucked beneath the water again, only this time she wasn’t able to find the surface. She woke tangled in soaked sheets, stranded in bed unable to breathe, heart clenching so hard that for a moment she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or awake.

  The lights had stayed on the last four days, making it harder to sleep, but easier to wake up and breathe.

  Leila realized she’d zoned out, and Maggie was giving her a sympathetic look. She hated it. “I can do it, Mags.”

  “I know you can. But I’d rather save you for the things the volunteers can’t do.”

  “They might not even come today!”

  “No, they’re coming, someone called me back this morning right after you left the hotel.”

  “What am I going to do then?”

  “Salvaging.”

  She might as well have kicked Leila in the chest. Guilt sat on her, pressing the air from her lungs, but she nodded. It was the least she could do for fucking up so badly when she’d left the house.

  Silver Springs’ houses had been coded into four colors. Green, Yellow, Orange, and Red. Green meant you’d escaped unscathed. Yellow meant there was minor damage, but it was fine to immediately live in. Orange means it had taken on water, and would need extensive repairs from a contractor before it was livable. Red meant it was not fit for habitation, and might need to be torn down. Their house was coded Orange.

  The berm by the high school had blown out, sending way too much water in their direction, but it didn’t linger—their house was in a higher neighborhood, and it drained fairly quickly. After depositing three feet of water in their basement. The other two feet of water was sewage backup. A foot above the waterline in the basement, a horrible science experiment of mold had formed and taken over, ugly swirls and patches of blacks and greens.

  The smell was horrifying. Luckily Dad had known a guy who was able to pump the excess water out, and they’d gotten to work with the foot of mud and … not mud that coated the floor and lower walls. Bucket by bucket they’d hauled up the stairs and out, unable to move anything else until they cleared a path.

  Now, today, the clearing was switching from moving the mud itself to the things downstairs covered in the mud.

  It would have almost been easier if it had been fire instead of water. In a fire, all your belongings are incinerated. You’re forced to let them go because they’ve turned to ashes. The flood made it worse because their belongings were still there, in her hands, but so thoroughly destroyed and contaminated that they had to be thrown away. It’s one thing for something to be taken from you. It’s another to have to throw it away yourself when all you want to do is cling to it and keep it safe.

  Leila felt the loss of every scrap of paper, every piece of clothing, every book. Every thing pierced her heart like a dagger made of blame because it was all her fault. She’d left. She’d stood in the basement, knowing how much water was downtown, and hadn’t moved more when she’d had the chance. She’d barely moved anything. Sure, she’d taken some things, but what about the rest? She’d had time. She could have spared a couple minutes to run some things upstairs where they’d have been safe.

  Instead, she’d panicked and been useless. No one blamed her but herself. It was more than enough. She scoured everything, sifted through buckets of the filthy mud that was tainted with sewage back up, trying to find anything to save. Anything to take from the mountain of shit and add it to the meager pile of items that had come through the flood unscathed.

  “Miss? Someone left this for you.” The volunteer handed Leila a bucket filled with cleaning supplies and went back to work. There was a big shiny bow on it, and she pulled the small card free from the envelope and read the neat writing.

  To Doctor Leila, for being amazing.

  Doctor Leila? What did that mean? Maybe the contents of the bucket were a clue. Brushes and sponges and soaps, but small ones. They’re not for cleaning the house. They’re for salvaging, for detail work. There was even a box of expensive rubber gloves, sized extra small. The others had been way too big for her hands and made her clumsy when she needed to be accurate.

  Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude. She’d been salvaging for four hours already, and didn’t deserve to have the job made easier, but this gift might help her save more things for her dad and Mags, and that was the most important thing. This was an amazing gift. But where had it come from?

  “Leila.”

  Her heart stopped at the sound of his voice.

  ***

  He hadn’t been able to approach her right away, afraid she’d be mad at him—why else would she not have tried to get in contact after the flood? But he’d subtly gotten information from Spence about her, made sure she was okay. He stopped short of asking for her number. Leila wasn’t a woman who waited for what she wanted—if she’d wanted him, she’d have pursued him.

  And today, he saw her, read her body language and saw she was five minutes from crumbling, and he could no longer stay away. Not once he’d seen her, and seen her like that. Staying away was stupid when he felt the way he felt about her. Now he just had to say it. Unfortunately, seeing her sucked all words from his vocabulary.

  She squinted up at him, looked him head to toe. “You’re okay?”

  He nodded, gratitude flooding his senses, enabling him to talk again. “Thanks to you.”

  She looked down at the bucket in her hands. “From you?”

  He nodded. The bucket wasn’t supposed to be a bribery or expectation. He’d just wanted to give her something useful that would make her life easier, and had heard Kyle talking about what was happening at their house. He wanted to thank her for saving his life, and apologize for putting her in danger. “Leila, I’m so sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “All of it was my fault. If I’d—”

  “No.” She sighed and stood. “It wasn’t your fault that night, and it isn’t your fault now looking back at it all. If anything, I’m the one who owes you an apology.”

  “What the hell for?”

  “If I hadn’t been such a stubborn bitch and stormed off, you wouldn’t have been hurt.” She shook her head and huffed. “See how selfish I am? I never even asked what happened to you.”

  “Apparently I got hit by a tree.”

  “You know what I mean. After we were separated.”

  He did but wanted to see her smile, not look sad and defeated. That wasn’t his Leila. “I had a concussion. My leg was hurt.”

  “God, Ryan, I am so, so sorry.” She paused when a volunteer passed by, waiting for them to leave. “You have to know that if I could go back to that night, there are so many things I’d do differently. I’m such an asshole. If I’d known you’d get hurt, I’d never have gone ahead. I’d have waited and done exactly what you told me to.” Her fingers twisted around each other until she shoved them into her back pockets.

  “You saved my life, Leila.”

  “What?”

  “I got to urgent care. When the doctor saw me five hours later, and unwrapped my leg—nice bandage by the way—blood started spurting from the wound.”

  Her eyes widened with horror. “I’m so sorry—”

  He pressed a fingertip to her lips, wanting to do so much more. This woman lit him up, and had saved him, and he needed her to be a part of his life. “Shhh. No more apologies. The doctor told me that if you hadn’t wrapped my leg the way you did, I wouldn’t have made it.”

  She frowned and shook her head. “I just ban
daged your leg. The doctors—”

  “You’re the reason I’m here today, Leila. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Is that the reason you got me the bucket with the cleaning stuff in it? Doctor Leila?”

  “Partly. And I knew you needed it. I know you’ll be blaming yourself for anything that got wrecked, even though it’s not your fault.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back. “I could have moved more and didn’t. It is my fault. And I was the reason you got hurt. I don’t get any credit for you being fine—the two cancel each other out.”

  He needed to tell her how he felt, how much she meant to him and how he never wanted to let her go. “Leila, you’re a hero.”

  She huffed. “Some frigging hero, Ryan. I could have saved things and didn’t. I failed my family.”

  “You saved me.”

  She shook her head. “You were only hurt because of me. You shouldn’t have needed saving in the first place.”

  “I don’t care about that! You need to get over it. Stop using your guilt as a shield.”

  “A shield?”

  “I’m standing right here trying to get you to let me in, saying there’s nothing to forgive, but you keep wedging your guilt between us.”

  “There is no us.”

  “But there can be.”

  “No.”

  He couldn’t let her push him away. “Why? Leila, I love you.”

  Her eyes softened, but she shook her head. “Look around you. I’m the biggest disaster here. Trust me, I’m a mess you don’t want to bother cleaning up.”

  “You don’t get to decide what I want.” His throat was raw with emotion. He hadn’t let anyone in since Mel, hadn’t found anyone he wanted to let in. Now he found someone who had burrowed under his skin, into his thoughts, and heart, and she was pushing him away before they had a chance. “That’s not fair, Leila.”

  “You don’t even know me.”

  “I know enough to realize that letting you go would be the worst mistake of both of our lives.”

  Her lips were clamped into a thin line. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

  “I want—”

  “Please. This isn’t about what you want. It’s about what I need. Look around you. We’re surrounded by parts of my shit and mud-covered childhood. What you want from me, I don’t have in me to give right now. Maybe not ever.” She opened her mouth to say more, but closed it.

  “I want you. I want you in my life.”

  “I’m sorry. But I’m thinking about what we both need. And it’s not each other.” She turned back to the mess on the lawn. “Thank you for the cleaning supplies. They’ll help me clean up the mess I made.”

  He stood there for a good five minutes, frantically trying to think of a way to convince her that they had a future. He did need her. Maybe she just didn’t need him. He had to accept what she wanted—and it wasn’t him. Defeated, he turned and left.

  ***

  She didn’t deserve him. He should have someone stronger, someone smarter. Someone who hadn’t frozen up and left all the things in the basement to be ruined by the water. She’d wanted to scream with happiness that he really was safe—a tiny part of her had worried, despite the info she’d pried out of Spence. But throwing herself into his arms was one step above what she deserved, no matter how badly she wanted to.

  He called her a hero. What a joke. That was like thanking the person for giving you a Band-Aid after they shoot you. The lawn was dripping with evidence of her failure as a human being. If his stitches weren’t proof enough, the filth all around her should have been an indication that she wasn’t worth his time.

  Still, she felt like running after him and begging him to stay. Instead, she sent him away. It was better for him in the long run not to be with her. She delicately scraped the crust from a scrapbook she’d missed on the shelf downstairs, hating herself more with every second.

  “Hey.” A volunteer in a red t-shirt approached with a small case in his hands. “I found this.”

  Leila reached and took it, and the volunteer had left before she realized what it was, and cradled it to herself like a baby. She knew even without opening the case that it had filled with water. It was too heavy.

  Thumbing open the clip, she opened the fiddle’s case. Water poured out, foul and devastating. She was still gently wiping at her grandfather’s fiddle an hour later and didn’t stop. Not even while Dad and Maggie told her to let it go and throw the thing away.

  She just couldn’t.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  No amount of soap got the smell from her memory. The damage at the house took residence in her nose and heart and followed her no matter where she went, but still she scrubbed with heavily scented body wash, and shampooed her hair twice. The hot water felt way too good on her sore muscles, and she lingered long enough under the hot stream that she had to rush to dry and get dressed to meet everyone for supper.

  The hotel had been in one of the few areas the water didn’t touch, and Leila and her family had been staying there with a lot of other townspeople whose houses were coded Orange. The few Greens and Yellows were able to stay in their homes, and Reds didn’t bother coming back until they could book appointments to get reassessed. Those who were Orange were actively working on their houses but couldn’t stay in them. Some couldn’t bear to stay in town at night, and worked by day then left. Others camped out in tents or trailers, not wanting to leave their property. Looting wasn’t a concern, but when you’ve lost nearly everything, the remainder becomes more precious.

  The hotel, same one from the wedding reception, was generously letting people stay at reduced rates, and providing free meals to everyone. The selection was down with the grocery situation, but they came up with a delicious buffet three times a day to anyone who wanted to partake. No one was complaining¸ and it was great for seeing other people, hearing their stories. Not feeling so alone.

  Leila pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a hoodie over her T-shirt. It wasn’t cold, but lately she couldn’t get warm enough, unless she was overheating in a Tyvek suit. There was no happy medium. Stepping into her sneakers, and grabbing her room key, she closed the door behind herself and headed for the stairwell. Everyone was cutting down on non-essentials so the power grid wasn’t overwhelmed. The boil water advisory had lifted yesterday, which simplified a few things, and felt like a giant step toward reclaiming the town.

  By the time she reached the dining room, everyone was already seated at a small table near the window, so she waved, headed for the buffet, and dished up a plate. Despite feeling like she’d never be hungry again when they were cleaning up, every night hunger gnawed at her insides. Tonight the buffet table held roast beef, mashed potatoes, and mixed steamed vegetables. A large slab of chocolate cake for dessert. Simple, hearty, and homey. It was perfect.

  “Hey.” Kyle nudged her arm.

  “Hey, you. How’s it going?”

  “Wobbling along.” He looked even more tired than yesterday, but they were all working themselves to the bone over at the station. Leila wasn’t that domestic, but if she’d had access to a kitchen of her own, she’d have baked them something as a small thanks for all the hard work they were doing over there and around town. One house had burned down since the flood, another loss, but one they took more personally than the flood-ravaged houses.

  “The roast looks good.” Leila spooned more potatoes onto her plate, grabbing a couple plastic containers of butter.

  “Sure does. I’m getting mine while the getting’s good.” He grabbed his own plate and began serving himself.

  “What do you mean?” She took a knife and fork, bundled in a napkin.

  “The guys are staying here too, starting tonight. It’s too big of a commute. They’re going to build trailers for them to stay in, but until then, we’re taking over the hotel.” Firefighters from all over had converged upon Silver Springs. There were about fifty working switch shifts.

  Leil
a’s heart and guilt perked up and chased each other around her stomach at the thought of running into Ryan. Was he there now? Would he be coming for supper? Her back itched, and she looked around to see if he was there. He wasn’t. She cleared her throat. “That’s good.”

  “You okay? You aren’t looking so hot.”

  “I’m just hungry and overtired. You know how it is.”

  He nodded. “Sure do. Wish I didn’t.” They headed for the table and joined Maggie and their dad. There were a couple strangers at their table, and Leila focused on her plate, too emotionally drained to want to connect. Even eye contact felt like too much.

  “Leilani! How are you?”

  She knew that voice, and turned to look up at the woman whose hand fell upon her shoulder. “Ronna?”

  “How are you?” Ronna bent to hug her. Leila accepted it as though she was a long-lost relative.

  “I’m okay.”

  Ronna released her and squatted next to her chair. “I’m so glad you made it safe.”

  “You too! How did you guys do? How’s Glitters?”

  “Oh, it was pretty uneventful, other than wanting to drown that kid with the stupid hair.”

  Leila laughed. “I’m sure no one would have held it against you.”

  “Glitters is in pretty rough shape. She took a tree trunk to the south wall and took in some water. Some structural issues and we won’t be opening for a while.”

  “We left when the tree hit,” Leila told her.

  “It’s a damned shame,” Maggie said. “Your Tuesday night jam sessions were a real heartbeat around these parts for the musicians in town.”

  “Thanks. We’re trying to get it up and running again, but you know how that is.” She rolled her eyes, and they nodded. Insurance companies were doing their best impressions of escape artists, wriggling out of paying people’s claims as much as they could. It was disgusting and disheartening for the people who had already been through too much.