Till I Kissed You (34 page)

The Louisiana side of Cottonbloom had escaped relatively unscathed. Buildings stood, although debris was scattered over the road. Even his mama's flowers had weathered the storm with remarkable resiliency.

The Mississippi side had borne the brunt of the storm. The last two shops, including the Quilting Bee were obscured by a downed oak tree that also blocked the main road. Tumbled bricks trailed from green leaves into the street. A half-dozen people milled around the still-standing gazebo, hugging or talking or pointing.

It was the way of tornadoes. The winds could flatten one house, skip over the next, and take the next three as sacrifices. There was no rhyme or reason to the destruction. The river rushed through the divide, close to spilling over its banks.

Cade turned down the Louisiana side and parked near the footbridge.

Regan turned to him, her eyes wide, her hair tousled and windblown. “Sawyer … I need to check on my parents. And what about the Quilting Bee ladies? Were they in the shop?”

 

Chapter Twenty-three

As soon as Sawyer hopped out of the truck, Regan shot by him and ran over the footbridge to the edge of the street where the uppermost branches swayed in the light breeze, leaves dancing. The massive oak had tipped over from behind the shop, blanketing it in green.

“Where's the fire department or the police?” She asked as Sawyer came up beside her.

“Don't know. Cade's gone up to Tally's to call. They might be digging themselves out too. Let's head around back. See if we can get in from there.”

They picked their way around to the alley. The massive root system of the tree was exposed, ripping up the asphalt and tumbling the bricks of the stone wall along the edge. The sidewalk and road would need reconstruction, but what worried her now was whether anyone had been trapped inside either business.

From the back, it was obvious the hardware store had taken the brunt of the force from the fall.

“Stay here.” Sawyer stepped closer to the back door of the Quilting Bee.

Regan ignored his command and picked her way through, branches leaving new scratches on her legs. It didn't matter. A thick limb obscured her view of the door, but there seemed to be room behind it. “I think I can squeeze through.”

He cast her an exasperated glance. “No way. You're barefoot and won't be able to see anything if you even get in. I'll try. You go back around front and rally some help.”

“Will do.” Before he ducked under the next branch, she grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him around for a hard kiss. “Be careful. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her again, deeper and slower and with more than a hint of promise. “Can't wait to get you alone tonight.”

He let her go and disappeared. The night seemed a long way off. She chafed her arms, her clothes drying but still damp. When he didn't immediately emerge, she assumed he managed to get in and picked her way around to the front.

A black truck backing down River Street stopped when branches brushed the tailgate. Two more pickups pulled in behind it. A brawny fortyish-year-old man in full camo, including a baseball cap, climbed out of the driver's side. Delmar Fournette slid out of the other side.

The driver spit a stream of tobacco and hauled a chain saw from the truck bed. Two more men walked up, one with a second chain saw and one pulling on leather work gloves. All three were strangers to her.

Sudden tears flooded her eyes at their kindness. Delmar put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her tight. “Glad to see you in one piece, Miss Mayor. Where's my nephew?”

“Sawyer's fine. He squeezed into the Quilting Bee around back.” Her voice was tight. “Are the ladies in there?”

“Sure are. No one was in the hardware store, thank goodness. The boys and I will have a path cleared lickety-split.”

“Thanks for helping, Del.”

“My girl's in there.” The look he sent the building was serious, before he caught her eye with a smile. “Anyway, we're all neighbors.”

Three more men came jogging over the footbridge, Cade included. “All these are Louisiana men?” she asked.

“Most of them. Darryl over there is a Mississippi boy.”

She wasn't sure which one was Darryl, but she was grateful for them all. Both chain saws fired up and conversation because impossible. She backed away. While the men cut away branches, the others loaded the beds of the trucks. When those were filled, they dragged the cut limbs into the common area.

She took five minutes to survey damage through the rest of downtown. Another tree tipped at an odd angle on her street, the roots crumbling the cement of the sidewalk and street. The pizza place had sustained some roof damage, and the owner and his two sons were on the roof securing a tarp. Her shop appeared untouched. She grabbed a pair of flip-flops she had stashed in her drawer and ran back.

By the time she returned, space had opened up and revealed the edges of the door. She bounced on her toes. Sawyer cleared the leaves with Vera Carson perched in his arms holding her pocketbook with both hands, her legs crossed at her ankles as if sitting in a church pew.

A laugh borne of relief burst out, and she rushed forward. Sawyer set Mrs. Carson down and the lady brushed her skirt down and patted dust out of her hair. Regan couldn't help from touching Sawyer. He appeared fine except for a coating of reddish dust. “Was everyone alright inside?”

“Fine. The side wall caved in, but the ladies had taken refuge behind the counter. I need to get Ms. Effie and Ms. Leora out.” He winked and ducked back into the opening.

“I'm so glad everyone is safe, but I'm sorry about the Bee, Mrs. Carson. You only just signed the papers this morning.”

The lady turned to look, her expression more pensive than upset. “They say God works in mysterious ways.” Before she could say more, her daughter rushed up, put her arms around her, and led her away.

Ms. Effie came out holding Sawyer's arm, and as soon as she was deposited with her son, he ducked back in. The tree groaned and the men let out a shout and scattered backward. More of the buildings sagged underneath the weight, bricks tumbling into the street.

She stepped forward but Cade grabbed her arm. He was sweaty and scratched up from his work pulling branches out of the way. “Hang on. Let everything settle down.”

Everything quieted. The men clumped around one of the trucks, arms hanging over the edge of its bed talking. Delmar paced, staring at the door. No Sawyer.

“Where is he?” Regan walked up to join Delmar.

“I'll go. You two stay here.” Cade strode by them.

She stayed on Cade's heels. The door's frame had been warped from the weight, and Cade strained to open it. She slipped by Cade and stepped inside. Dust hung in the air, and she waved her hand in front of her face and coughed.

“Sawyer? Ms. Leora?”

“Back here.” Ms. Leora's voice was wavery.

Bricks and bolts of fabric were scattered over the left side of the store while the right appeared untouched except for the layer of dust. The interior was dim, and Regan picked her way through the destruction.

Sawyer was sitting on the ground behind the counter, his hand pressed to his opposite arm, and she squatted next to him, unable to see him clearly. “Are you hurt?”

He removed his hand. A gash in his bicep trickled blood, the smell adding to her churning nausea.

“That'll need stiches. What happened?” Cade leaned over her shoulder.

“We were almost to the door when the wall completely gave way. A nail on one of the support joists caught me.”

“Tetanus shot and stitches, coming right up.” Cade helped Sawyer to his feet.

Regan tucked herself against him. “You help Ms. Leora. I got Sawyer.”

Cade didn't argue. He swept Ms. Leora up and headed toward the door.

“I don't want to get you all bloody.” Sawyer gingerly put an arm over her shoulder.

“I'm already bloody. Anyway, I don't mind.” She wrapped her arms around him. “I'm just glad you're safe.”

They helped each other to the door and emerged into bright sunshine. She blinked, blinded. Although the peaked roof was missing slates, the gazebo weathered the storm, and she guided him toward it.

Ms. Leora and Delmar sat side by side on one seat, his arm around her, and Regan and Sawyer joined them on the seat catty-corner. Mr. Holcomb and Ms. Beatrice, her two festival lieutenants, bustled over.

Ms. Beatrice preformed classic hand-wringing while Mr. Holcomb accompanied her with a solemn headshake. “This is a disaster, Regan. The festival is only three days away. We'll have to cancel.” Ms. Beatrice's voice pitched high.

“My first priority is to make sure everyone on both sides of the river is safe.” The festival hadn't crossed her mind.

“Even if this tree gets cleared, the buildings aren't safe. And have you seen the tree over in front of your shop? It will need to be taken out before it falls.” Mr. Holcomb kept up a constant headshake.

“Then I guess we cancel.” Regan shrugged. The festival didn't seem as important anymore.

“You don't have to cancel,” Sawyer said. Everyone looked at him. “Our side came through undamaged.”

“Are you saying what I think you're saying?” Regan shifted to take his hand. Dried blood trailed down his forearm.

“Let's combine. We've got barbeque and po'boys. Jambalaya would go along with that great. We can set all the food up along River Street. The gazebo made it through. So did the footbridge. We can have the music over here in the grassy area. We'll make room for everything you had planned over on our side.”

“But what about the competition?” Ms. Beatrice asked with a huff.

“It doesn't matter anymore. Look around.” Regan gestured toward the men working on clearing the tree. “When it comes down to it, we're all neighbors. I think combining the festivals is a great idea.”

A truck horn sounded. Cade waited on the main road. “There's my ride.” He stood, and she stepped in tandem with him out of the gazebo and into the grass. He stopped. “Hold up. You need to stay here.”

“No. I'm coming with you.”

He circled a hand around her nape and put his forehead against hers. “I'll be fine. You need to make a whole bunch more lists so you can win us this competition.”

“But, Sawyer—”

He kissed her. “Stay here and be mayor for both sides. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

She watched him walk away, every part of her wanting to go with him. But he was right. She had taken an oath. Cottonbloom needed her.

The instability of the trees forced her to set up operations across the river. Rufus offered his restaurant, along with free food and drinks for all the volunteers working on clearing the street on the Mississippi side.

Chief Thomason and Sheriff Berry both stopped by to give her reports. Her parents were both fine as were most houses minus some missing shingles and siding. On the Louisiana side, besides Sawyer's house, the only damage besides downed trees was reported at the Country Aire trailer park. The worst damage seemed confined to the Mississippi side of downtown Cottonbloom. Thankfully, no lives were lost and no life-threatening injuries had been reported.

Sawyer returned, and she gave him a brief hug and made an examination of the row of stitches along his biceps. “Does it hurt?”

“Little sore, but I'll live.”

His glib pronouncement splayed her heart open, a cry of distress escaping her tear-tightened throat. She fell into him and wrapped her arms around his waist, finding the pulse point on his neck with her lips. He returned her hug with equal ferocity.

Alive. They were alive and the future was spread out in front of them. Their story had a chance at a happy ending instead of a tragic one.

His tight hold eased, one of his hands stroking her hair. “Cade's waiting for me. We need to check on the trailer park and the isolated houses. Make sure no one's hurt or trapped. Wait for me here, okay?”

“I'll wait. Promise.”

The kiss they shared was brief yet fierce. Once he disappeared from sight, she shook herself and got back to business. She and Monroe shared barbeque and sweet teas as dusk fell and the men working on clearing the trees from downtown packed up their equipment. Monroe headed home, and the milling crowd shrank by the minute. Regan waited next to Sawyer's flowers.

 

Chapter Twenty-four

Sawyer turned down River Street. Full darkness was almost upon them. Had she gotten a ride from Monroe or her mother? The survey of the damage had taken longer than he'd anticipated, and he hadn't even had the chance to sift through what was left of his own place. He'd only had time and light enough to pack up the family pictures and load their old kitchen table in the truck bed. The second floor was too dangerous to navigate.

A figure popped up at the edge of the flowers. The tight fist around his heart eased. She had waited for him. Even though he'd been late, she'd trusted him to come. Seemingly insignificant, it didn't feel that way. He stopped at the curb, slipped out, and grabbed her close.

“I wasn't sure if you'd still be here,” he whispered into her hair.

“I promised to wait.”

Emotions twisted and brought a lump to his throat. He could count on her. “Come on, let's go home.”

“I assume you mean my place?”

He hadn't considered what the destruction of his house would mean long-term, but one thing he did know. “Baby, wherever you are is home.”

Her simple smile washed away the stress and anxiety of the day. She climbed into his truck, lifted the center console and settled in next to him, her head on his shoulder.

“I grabbed a change of clothes from the shop, but otherwise I have nothing. The second floor of the farmhouse could go any minute.”

“I still have the toothbrush you used. We can buy you new clothes tomorrow.” Her voice was calm and no-nonsense. “I'll make a list in the morning.”