The Husband She Never Knew. Cynthia Thomason
won’t be a dry line on your papers for me to put my signature.”
“Then go. Do what you have to do. I’m apparently not going anywhere for a while.”
She stood, went into the kitchen and leaned against the sink. Beasley looked up at her with uncharacteristic interest. All dogs, even those without any apparent purpose in life like Beasley, could smell fear, and Beasley sensed it in Vicki. Jamie was no stranger to the signs of it, either. He’d seen fear in the faces of his countrymen in Belfast plenty of times. He read Vicki’s fear in the fix of her gaze on the dark sky, the white-knuckled grip of her hand on the edge of the porcelain.
“Don’t worry,” he said to her. “Like I said, the Bucket and I have seen worse than this. And Currituck Sound is protected by the barrier islands. We’ll come through all right.”
She turned to look at him. Tried to smile even, though her lips trembled at the effort. She reached for her jacket, slipped it on. “Have you got a hat?”
“What for?”
She twisted her shoulder-length hair, pulled a clip from her pocket and held the strands in place at her crown. “You’ll need help.”
The offer pleased him, mostly because he hadn’t expected it. He went into the bedroom and came back with a large-brimmed canvas hat that wouldn’t do much to keep her dry once the rain started falling heavy. And a pair of galoshes. “They’re a bit big, but those fancy shoes of yours won’t care. And thanks, I can use a holder as soon as I get the shutters from the shed.”
He threw on his slicker and opened the door. When he looked back, Vicki was staring out the window again. Her arms were clenched tightly around her waist.
THANK GOODNESS Jamie had enough confidence for both of them. Vicki was almost convinced that the Bucket o’ Luck was stronger than the winds of a hurricane. At least, she was convinced that Jamie believed it. And there was comfort in that.
When she saw him come around the side of the houseboat with a load of metal shutters in his arms, she went outside. The wind was stronger now. The rain was coming in biting sheets. Vicki was grateful for the shelter of the houseboat walls as she hugged the siding on her way to the porch at the bow.
Jamie lay the shutters on the floor and picked up the one on top. It caught the wind and rattled in his hand, producing a sound like thunder in a B movie. But it looked sturdy enough. Holes in the four corners matched metal pegs in the houseboat walls. Jamie lined up the holes to the pegs, held the panel with one hand while he fished several butterfly nuts from a sack at his feet.
“Are you ready?” he called to Vicki over the wind.
She crunched the hat onto her head, tied the chin straps and hunched into the collar of her jacket. While she held the panel with both hands, Jamie efficiently twisted each nut onto the pegs until the shutter was secure. Then he picked up the next panel, overlapped it with the first one, and the process began again.
He returned to the shed for a second and third load of shutters, and he and Vicki worked their way around the wooden catwalk to secure all the windows. The rain drove furiously, strafing the steadily sagging canvas of Vicki’s hat. Rivulets streamed down her face and neck. Despite having nothing to keep water from his own eyes, Jamie worked with military precision. In less than an hour, he held up the last shutter and took the four remaining nuts from the bag.
“So, Vicki, why now?” he shouted as he twisted the first nut into place.
She kept her palms flat against the metal and wiped the side of her face on her sleeve. “What do you mean?” she yelled back.
“The divorce,” he said in such a nonchalant manner they might have been sitting down to dinner, instead of gargling rainwater. “What made you ask for a divorce today?”
He turned the second nut. She wondered how he managed to concentrate on his task, much less carry on a conversation in this wind. “It’s time, don’t you think?”
“No doubt about that. But I was just wondering. If you let thirteen years go by, there must be a specific reason that brought you to Pintail Point now.”
She waited while he finished his task. Then, seeing no reason not to tell him, she shouted above the roar of the elements. “I’m getting engaged!” For no reason she could fathom, she added, “I think.”
He nodded. “We’re done here. Let’s get dry.”
They walked around to the door and slogged inside. If it hadn’t been for the glow of the TV screen and one lamp, the houseboat would have been black as pitch. No daylight, gray though it was, filtered through the shutters into the interior. She and Jamie were entombed in a cocoon, and Vicki shivered in claustrophobic reaction.
Jamie flicked switches and pulled lamp chains until soft light filled the living room. “Makes a difference having the shutters up,” he said. “Boggles my mind each time I realize I’ll have to get by without any daylight. You’ll get used to it in a few minutes.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a grin. “Of course by then, we’ll probably lose power.”
She rolled up her sleeves and reached for the towel she’d used earlier. “I hope you have supplies in case that happens.”
“Lanterns and candles. When you live out here, you know what to expect and how to prepare.”
Her shirt was soaked. She plucked the material away from her chest and arms, but it didn’t ease an overall clammy feeling. And then suddenly, the dampness didn’t matter. What the CNN reporter was saying took precedence over every other emotion.
“Imogene is now verging on category-two status.”
Jamie stepped closer to the television and focused on the report.
“Did you hear that?” Vicki asked.
“I did. Let’s hear what else the man has to say.”
“The storm has slowed, giving Imogene time to gather strength. Hurricane-force winds extend thirty-five miles from the center.”
A yellow triangle produced by the network’s graphics department swept a narrow path along the northernmost North Carolina coast.
The meteorologist continued his grim forecast. “Imogene’s landfall in approximately five hours is predicted to be somewhere in this vicinity. By that time she could be a strong category-two storm.”
Vicki looked at Jamie’s profile, expecting to see the placid expression of a man who faced life’s obstacles with optimism. What she saw were fine lines extending from narrowed eyes. And jaw muscles clenched with tension. “Oh, my God, you’re worried,” she said.
He glanced around the living room. “Not worried so much as grateful we got the shutters up. I think we’re going to need them. But at her worst, Imogene will still just be a category two. The houseboat can withstand that. I am concerned about the shed, though.”
Then, as if he realized in that moment that he was soaked to the skin, he added, “No use standing here like drowned rats. And speaking for myself, hungry, drowned rats at that.”
His confidence was returning. Thank goodness. “I should change,” Vicki said.
Jamie took emergency lights from a cupboard and set them on a serving bar that separated the kitchen from the living room. Then he jerked his thumb at her slim briefcase. “Did you pack a change of clothes in that thing, as well as our divorce papers?”
“Oh, no!” Everything she needed was in the rental car—her clothes, her purse, her cell phone with the battery running down. This astounding lack of fore-thought sent her scurrying to the exit. “I have to go outside.”
He gave her an incredulous look. “I don’t think that’s such a clever idea.”
She flung the door open. Rain and wind pelted her face and soaked the last few patches of clothing that weren’t already sodden. She fought the wind until she heard the latch click into