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1
Ismay Chalmers had never faced such terrible weather. A farmer’s daughter, born and raised in a small town in northern Utah, she’d seen the occasional blizzard during winter, a twenty-year drought, and scars left by wildfiresonce. But she’d never experienced anything even close to a hurricane. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she told Remy Windsor, her fiancé, over the phone.
“You have nothing to worry about,” he said, but his words sounded hollow. She was alone on an island off Cape Cod that was only ten miles long and five miles wide, facing shrieking gale-force winds that seemed determined to claw the house apart, and dark roiling clouds that blocked out the sun so completely it could’ve been nighttime instead of midafternoon.
“Easy for you to say. You’re sitting in sunny LA,” she grumbled. Just imagining the balmy spring weatherhewas experiencing made her wish she’d stayed in California. She would’ve waited for him, but after passing the bar, there’d been nothing for her to do while he continued to study almost 24/7 for the third and final part of the United States Medical Licensing Exam, which would enable him to become a medical doctor.
Instead, she’d flown to Mariners Island ahead of him to get settled while he finished up. He was supposed to join her in three weeks. Then they’d spend the rest of May and all of June in paradise, unwinding from the pressure they’d been under, both before they knew each other and after—obtaining their bachelor’s degrees at UCLA, passing the exams necessary to get into higher education at the same school, and earning their advanced degrees.
“The storm won’t be as bad as it seems,” he insisted. “Like Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket, Mariners is an outlier that gets far more nor’easters than hurricanes. Those can be bad enough, of course, but they only come in the winter. And hurricane season doesn’t start until August.”
When the wind had first come up, she’d checked the internet. She knew what he said was accurate. But there were always exceptions.
“Hurricanes almost always slam into the coast farther south,” he continued as she moved to the living room window to be able to watch what was happening outside. “They lessen in severity before moving north, or they curve into the Atlantic.”
Feeling the house shudder around her did nothing to build her confidence. Windsor Cottage—a play on Windsor Castle using his family’s last name—was located at the end of a lane called “Land’s End,” because it was on the easternmost tip of the island.
When a jagged bolt of lightning electrified the sky, she could see the angry froth of the sea churning not far away—watched a giant wave rise up and come crashing down on the beach. “It’s hard to feel safe when I’m afraid the house will blow down and be swept into the ocean,” she said.
“The house won’t blow down and be swept into the ocean,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s been in the family for almost a century. Everything will be fine.”
Maybe he was right, and she was overreacting. That wouldn’t betoosurprising, considering she was staying in an unfamiliar house in a part of the world she’d never visited before. “I just wish I’d waited for you. I don’t know what I was thinking flying off ahead of you.”
“You were thinking of spending your days on the beach, reading escape novels and getting a tan. You’ve worked so hard. You deserve to celebrate with a sun-drenched vacation on Mariners. That’s why my parents insisted we use the cottage.”
The wordcottagewas an understatement.Summer homewould be a more accurate term. The house was worth millions. But she wasn’t going to argue over semantics. She’d grown up with seven younger siblings and tired parents who worked from dawn till dusk to provide everything they could for their family, but she’d never known the type of affluence Remy had. His father was a diamond broker in New York City—like his father before him—and thanks to his incredible success, Remy’s mother had never had to work. “I just feel so...alone and vulnerable.”
“Stop. You’ll wake up in the morning, the sun will be shining, and you’ll be glad you went ahead of me. You passed the bar in February. You’ve had to sit around twiddling your thumbs enough while I study.”
He was right about that. She’d cracked open her share of textbooks, but she hadn’t had to study nearly as hard as he had, and the fact that he was never available was getting old. She was becoming concerned about their relationship. When they met nearly three years ago, she’d been so impressed by his drive and ability, how he always had everything under control. They’d moved in together a year later and gotten engaged, informally for now, nine months ago. But she no longer felt like a priority. Maybe marriage would be a mistake. She’d recently told him she was having a few misgivings, and he’d said things would change once they had their hardest years behind them.
She’d decided to wait and see, when he wasn’t so stressed.
“I’ll be there before you know it,” he promised.
Enough whimpering about the storm, she told herself. He didn’t have much patience for weakness—much patience at all, now that she thought of it. She was about to change the subject and ask how confident he was feeling about part three, his upcoming exam, when the lights flickered. “I think I’m going to lose power,” she said instead, feeling a fresh burst of panic.
“I’m sure my folks have candles and flashlights and that sort of thing.”
“Where?” she asked, suddenly desperate to find them.
“I’ll call and ask.”
How long would that take? She drew a deep breath. “Okay. Hurry.”
As soon as she disconnected, she started rummaging through the cupboards and drawers in the kitchen, thinking she might stumble on what she needed. To prepare for a hurricane—or a bad storm like this—the information online indicated she should have a gallon of water, food, a flashlight, a battery-powered radio, a first-aid kit, extra batteries, and a whistle to use to be able to call for help—although, hopefully, it wouldn’t getthatbad. The list was even more extensive than that, but she figured she’d be happy if she could just gain possession of the top three items.
Fortunately, she’d purchased groceries once she’d landed and bought filtered water.
After she left the kitchen, she managed to locate a flashlight in the mudroom at the back of the house.
Relieved, she turned it on, then groaned. The beam was so weak. It needed new batteries. She was also worried about the battery in her cell phone. She’d been charging it since before the storm started, but it ran down quickly—in a couple of hours. She’d been meaning to do something about that, but she’d been living on student loans and a modest paycheck from the coffee shop where she worked and would need every cent she could scrape together to set up her law practice this summer. She could’ve joined a firm instead, but she’d chosen to go out on her own so she wouldn’t be beholden to the demands—or whims—of those more powerful than she was and could retain control of her own destiny.
She still considered that a good decision. But putting off getting her phone fixed? Not so much. It didn’t matter a great deal in LA. There, she was almost always near a working outlet. But what if that wasn’t the case here? What if she lost power and it took all night or longer to restore it?
She’d be completely cut off. With everyone having a cell phone these days, Remy’s parents had seen no reason to keep a landline when they had the house renovated last fall.
“Shit.” After returning to the kitchen, where she’d left her phone, she tapped her fingers on the counter, willing Remy to call back. But he’d been so cavalier and unconcerned, so sure everything would be fine, she wasn’t convinced he’d act quickly.
