Stranded in Paradise (14 page)

Her greatest fear was that she would become Mona, that she would become a critical, joyless woman. Was that what she wanted? She despised the thought. She wasn't a child any longer. Mona was right about one thing—she needed to take charge, and the first area she was going to work on was not allowing Mona's nagging to keep sending her to that fearful place she'd gone to as a child. That cowering child with no self-esteem needed to be laid to rest. But that was easier said than done.

“Tess?”

She turned around to see Stella waving, the breeze battering her floral caftan. She waved.

“Mind if I join you?” Stella said as she came closer.

“Come!” Tess said.

Stella walked with an amazing vitality for a woman her age. Tess guessed her host to be somewhere in her early eighties, but then she'd never been good at guessing ages.

She bit back a grin. At least this afternoon Stella had left the cat at home. The woman was warm, interesting, and definitely eccentric, yet Tess had never met anyone who intrigued her more.

“How is that ankle, Dear? You haven't been walking too much, have you?” Stella's gaze was kind and very focused. She patted Tess's hand
.
“You look tired. Vacations are supposed to be restful.”

The two women walked on. Stella lifted her face to the fading sun. “Trade winds have been higher than usual. Weatherman says there's a storm approaching.”

“Thank you again for your hospitality,” Tess said. “I won't be in your hair for long—I'm flying home Monday. Hopefully.”

“So soon? Pity.” She smiled at her. “The island is really lovely this time of the year. I'd be happy to show you the sights. You're welcome to stay with me as long as you want.”

Her heart wasn't in it anymore. She'd been too beaten down.

“Thanks, but I couldn't intrude—”

“Intrude,” Stella scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “I'm rattling around in that big house. All those rooms— for an old woman and a cat. Fredrick goes home at night. I love the company, and you're meant to be here. I know that with a certainty. You have things to learn, and I can help with that.” Her eyes softened. They reached a sharp, rocky outcropping and turned back toward the house.

“Tell me about yourself,” Tess nudged. “Have you always lived here?”

“Edgar had the house built in 1931. I waited until construction was complete before I moved here from Los Angeles.” She smiled and her eyes crinkled as if her memories were sweet. Tess felt a tug of envy. Quite obviously Stella had loved this man deeply.

“Edgar? That's your husband?”

“Edgar's dead now, been gone over twenty years.” Mist shimmered in Stella's eyes. “My, how I miss that old fella.” She glanced over. “You and Carter are in love?”

“Me and Carter?” Tess choked out. “No—I barely know him. We met through a series of events, starting at the airport.” As far as love . . . she wasn't sure she knew the meaning of the word. She'd been “in like” with men a few times. Respected one once, but love? She didn't know if she knew how to love.

“Stella, what made you decide to take us in? There are all kinds of sickos walking around. You don't know us—”

“I know you well enough.” Stella smiled and nodded. “Yes, I know you well enough. It was meant that we meet.”

Tess brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes and thought about Stella's declaration:
It was meant that we meet.

What was that supposed to mean?

Friday morning, the aroma of hot coffee filled the air when Tess emerged from the bedroom. The previous night she'd managed to launder her smoke-laden clothes and air out her luggage. She'd gone to bed around 11:00 but rising wind had kept her awake most of the night. She smiled at Carter, who was stretched out across a lounge chair, reading a newspaper.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Morning.” Yawning, she scratched her hair and thought maybe she should have combed it into some semblance of order. She wondered if her bald patch was noticeable. She hadn't found any more hairs lately. Perhaps that malady was abating. She hoped. But then she wasn't trying to impress anyone. Her eyes moved surreptitiously to Carter, who didn't seem to notice the train wreck—or if he did, he was kind enough not to comment. Len would have said something.

Carter glanced up, his smile sending an odd shiver down her back.

Stella's lilting voice drifted from the kitchen. “Waffles and eggs benedict coming up! Are you hungry?”

Not if you're cooking with a cat around your neck,
Tess thought with a smile.

“Starved!” Carter said.

Tess wandered into the sunny kitchen where a large, open window carried the scent of fresh ocean air.

“Help yourself to the coffee, or there's fruit juice on the counter,” Stella said in her sweet way. “Make yourself at home.” She turned from the stove, clasping her hands. “I'm so glad to have someone to eat with this morning. This is wonderful.”

“You're a godsend to us,” Carter said as he walked into the kitchen. “Thank you, Stella.” He stretched, then pressed his hand to the small of his back. “And my bad back thanks you. Just thinking about a night on the sand hurts.”

Tess smiled. “Coward.”

“When it comes to pain? You're looking at the worst.” He winked.

Well, at least he was honest,
she thought. Clean cut, nails neatly trimmed, hair cut in classic style, freshly shaven and smelling faintly of Old Spice, and
honest,
to boot—she'd begun to think the breed had disappeared with the T Rex.

“Oh, we'll have such fun,” Stella crowed. “Now, you sit,” she directed to Carter. “I'll take up the eggs.” The waffle iron beeped that it was done. “Tess, would you work on waffles, please?”

Tess reached for a plate and the butter dish. “Sure.”

“Here we go,” Stella sang out softly a few minutes later, setting plates of steaming eggs and waffles in front of Tess and Carter, and then setting a third on the floor for the cat. “There now,” she crooned, calling the cat from his spot by the window. “Eat up, Henry.”

Henry.
Tess glanced at Carter. The neck muff's name was
Henry
. She picked up her fork and was about to take a bite when she froze as Carter asked if he could say grace.

“Oh, would you?” Stella beamed.

Stella closed her eyes, hands clasped with reverence.

Carter bent his head and offered thanks: brief, but with such sincerity and sweetness of thought that Tess was afraid to look up. She'd never heard anyone speak to God like that before. It was as if God was his friend and not some distant deity who struck terror at will. When the amen sounded, she glanced up to see Carter unfolding his napkin, his eyes discreetly appreciating the mound of fluffy yellow.

He picked up his fork. “Food looks great, Stella.”

Stella got up to pour herself a cup of coffee before rejoining them at the table.

“Aren't you going to eat something?” Tess asked Stella as she spread strawberry jam on a piece of toast.

“Oh, no,” Stella waved a hand in the air in what was now a familiar gesture. “I'll eat later.”

She felt uncomfortable with Stella watching but she managed to devour the meal in nothing flat.

“So, you're going home Monday?” Stella asked.

Tess smiled. “I hope. I'm on standby. What about you, Carter?” She peered over the rim of her juice glass. “Are you going to try to get a flight out Monday?”

Carter resalted his food. “I don't think so— since I'm already here I thought I'd stick it out for a couple of weeks.”

“Stick it out? That doesn't sound very vacationerish.”

“The reason I'm here in the first place is to get rid of stress. I guess the Lord is holding me to my promise.”

“The Lord does indeed hold us to our word.” Stella propped her chin on her hands. “By the way, did you two know that pesky hurricane's turned directly toward the island?”

10

“You're going to get an ulcer from all of this.” Carter sat on Stella's worn sofa, thumbing through a worn copy of
New York Times
as Tess frantically dialed another number.

“I have to get out of
here
—did you hear what Stella said?”

Carter nodded. “A tropical storm has been upgraded to hurricane—but only an F-1 hurricane, Tess. It's just a gale. With the proper precautions we'll be fine.”

“How do you know this?” She hadn't allowed a forecast to register since leaving Denver.

“I'm an air traffic controller at O'Hare. I know my storms.”

The man was the Rock of Gibraltar. Didn't he know that he and his “flight controller's” attitude was about to be blown off the face of the map?

She dialed the third charter flight number and met with the same results: no flights were leaving the island until the storm passed. Slamming the receiver back into the cradle, she dropped into a chair and crossed her arms.

“Need a Tagamet?” Carter said, his gaze never leaving the magazine.

“Very funny.” She turned to him. “Aren't you the least concerned that we're
trapped?”

“I'm concerned, but I'm smart enough to know that I'm not in charge of the situation.” He got up to look out of the windows. Wind lashed the tops of palms; a garbage can lid whipped by the window. “I called to find out where the nearest shelter is—if we need to go there we can.”

“We'll be safe,” Stella said. She sat on the sofa with the cat around her neck again, a pleasant demeanor on her face. The cat appeared to be sleeping placidly. “Henry and I have ridden out many a tropical storm and lived to tell about them. Remember '92, Henry? Hurricane Iniki. It was September; the storm wasn't predicted to have any effect on the island, but we woke to the sound of air-raid sirens. Iniki had decided to do a switchback overnight and was headed straight for us. I filled every pot and pan in the house with water—even filled the bathtubs. The radio said to put plywood on all the windows. I watched television until the announcer said the power would be turned off when the wind speed reached 45 knots, and that we should expect sustained winds to 165 miles per hour. Iniki had become a category five hurricane—the largest they get.” Stella reached up and ran a spider-veined hand along Henry's side. “We did our share of visiting with the Lord that night, didn't we, boy?”

Tess got up and began pacing.

“Relax,” Carter advised. “We'll take whatever precautions are needed.” He glanced at Stella. “Do I need to do anything? Nail plywood, close the storm shutters?”

Stella smiled. “Not yet. Let's see what Ms.
Alana
does next. Often storms veer off and we just get the rain and wind.”

Tess closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She felt a pressure in her head that she was certain would balloon into an aneurysm any moment. Why weren't they doing
something?
Surely there was some precaution they could be taking other than this maddening sitting and waiting around for whatever came their way. This just wasn't right!

Seconds later, she felt the gentle pressure of Carter's hand on her right shoulder. She opened her eyes. “The NHC has issued a ‘Hurricane Watch'; this means the storm will make landfall normally within twenty-four hours—but the watch usually includes a fairly wide area. It's late in the year for hurricanes. Like Stella says, could be we'll only get gale-force winds, high water, and flash flood situations.”

“And this doesn't alarm you?” Where
was
the Tylenol?

“All flights will be canceled until the storm abates,” Carter said, a sympathetic look on his face.

“Come sit, dear.” Stella patted the seat next to her. “We'll likely have a rough time of it, but nothing our Lord isn't in charge of. We'll be fine.”

“The point is,” Carter added quietly, “we need to heed the warning and take precautions. But we're here, Tess, under God's grace and His protection.”

Grace. God had never shown her any grace. Had He shown grace by letting Len fire her? Had He shown grace through Mona? Had He shown grace by putting her in a situation in which she had no control?

“How long does it take for a hurricane to pass?” she asked weakly.

“The storm will be here in a few hours, most likely, and then runs its course in ten days or less,” Stella said.

Ten days
.

And Tess couldn't do a thing to stop it.

Grace.

She might as well wish for a million dollars.

11

Midafternoon, rain began as a faint pitter-patter, nothing to hint at the hulking monster it was destined to become. But soon heavy wind gusts battered the beach house's windowpanes. Tess sat listening to the storm's growing fury.

After a while she got up to pace. Peering outside, she turned around to face Carter, who was listening to radio reports on the storm. “Shouldn't we close the shutters?”