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“What’s that?” Laura asked, poking her head out of the bedroom as she pulled on a clean shirt.
“No,” Mark said as the words flashed across the screen. “No. Can’t be.” He only caught a few words, but they made his blood run cold: hurricane headed to St. Anthony’s.
“Wait. Mark. Turn up the sound.”
Mark reached for the remote and clicked up the volume.
The weather forecaster, a petite brunette in a blue dress, stood before a map of the Caribbean. “Here you see Hurricane Jimmy is forming off to sea, but it’s now changed its course. We thought it was headed north, but now, see, it’s turned south. It could make landfall as soon as tomorrow.”
“Mark.” Laura stood next to him and squeezed his arm. “I thought the storm was supposed to miss us.”
“Apparently, it slowed, changed direction and got bigger instead.” Mark frowned. “They’ll have to postpone the race.” He turned up the volume a few more notches.
The forecaster looked solemn. “We’re forecasting winds over a hundred miles an hour. We’re advising all residents to leave the island or to take precautions. Board up your homes, make sure you have gas for your generators. This could be a big one. It’s picking up speed and St. Anthony’s might be the first island hit.”
Mark sank into the couch, still staring at the screen, feeling all the blood drain out of his face.
“The race,” he murmured. And just like that, his phone lit up with an announcement from the race organizers. Race postponed. Of course. They couldn’t very well race in a hurricane.
“What about the Timothy?” Laura asked, voice full of concern.
“We’ll have to hope it’s not as bad as the forecasters are saying.” Mark stood. “But we need to get you off this island.”
“Me? You mean us.” Laura crossed her arms across her chest and jutted out her chin in a way that told Mark she was going to make this difficult.
Mark shook his head. “You’re going. I’m staying.”
“Nope. You come with me, or I’m staying.”
“Laura.” Mark sighed. He hated being right. “This isn’t actually a choice I’m giving you.”
“Last time I checked, you were not, technically, the boss of me.” Laura’s chin rose a few notches higher. Mark knew her well enough to know that meant difficult just got impossible.
Mark’s phone rang and he dug it out of his pocket. “Garrett,” he said.
“You see this? I can’t believe that storm turned into a hurricane. What the hell?”
“And it decided to come early,” Mark said.
“Climate change, man,” Garrett lamented. “More storms and sooner. Do you need my help with the boat? There’s a flight in two hours to inland Florida, but I can stay if you need.”
“No. Go ahead. Get on out of here, man. Get safe. I can take care of the Timothy.”
“Okay.” Garrett breathed a sigh of relief on the phone. “You and Laura going to get out, too? Last flight is at ten tonight, I think.”
“Laura will be on it,” Mark said, staring at the obstinate woman standing in his living room. She shook her head in a warning. “Even if I have to throw her over my shoulder and carry her there.”
This time, Laura shook her head harder, mouthing, No way.
Garrett laughed. “You know women don’t go for that caveman stuff, right?”
“So I’ve heard. Okay, man. You stay safe.”
“I’ll be praying for you,” Garrett promised on the phone.
“Pray for the boat,” Mark corrected. “I’ll be fine.”
He ended the call and turned to study Laura. “Pack up your stuff,” he said. “We’re getting you off this island.”
“Let me help you with the boat. Then you can join me. On a plane.”
Mark sighed. He knew that it was a losing battle. If he protested, they’d waste more time arguing about who would be on the plane, and they didn’t have much time. The hurricane was coming and coming fast.
“Come on, then,” he said. “Let’s go to the marina and make sure the boat’s secure.”
* * *
CROWDS OF CARS and people swarmed the marina, making it a chaotic mess as folks tried to secure their boats. Some people loaded them up on trailers to haul away to shelters inland, while others just lashed them tightly to their moorings in the dock. Laura watched as Mark set about doubling the knots and making sure the sail of the boat was lashed tightly to the jib and then set about securing it to the trailer at the back of his boat.
“Where are we taking it?” Laura nodded at the trailers lined up to haul boats away from the sea. Mark frowned at the line of trucks hauling trailers.
