My words are cut off by his mouth against mine. Compared to the other kisses he’s given me, this one is practically chaste, but there’s an unmistakable sense of pride in the gesture, in the manner in which his hand tightens on my waist, holding me flush.

Anthony releases me as quickly as he embraced me.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

He waves the men up to the porch, telling them to get some food, and there’s a knowing gleam in their eyes as they help themselves to the food I set out, but I don’t have it in me to be embarrassed after a kiss like that.

* * *

—

I’m nearly asleep when Anthony comes to bed that evening, his hair wet from the bath, the smell of soap on his skin.

I reach for him in the dark, relief filling me when his arms wrap around me.

“How did it go?” I ask.

“We boarded up most of the downstairs windows, pulled the porch furniture inside. ’Course it was probably all for naught. As soon as we’d finished, the Weather Bureau released an update on the storm. It’s going to miss us entirely. It’ll hit up by Tampa most likely.”

“I’m sorry you had to do all of that work.”

“It was worth it for the look in your eyes when you saw me. I won’t ever forget the sight of you standing up on the porch, wearing that dress, waiting for me to come home. I don’t know that I’ve ever felt prouder.”

My cheeks burn, and I bury my face in the pillow.

He chuckles. “I take it my wife likes when I get my hands dirty.”

Admittedly, I’d never even considered such a thing, but the sight of him out there did do something to me.

I’m too embarrassed to reply.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, his lips teasing the whorl of my ear. “I have the same sensation every time I see you.”

His words are all it takes to coax me to face him once more, to wrap my limbs around him, and to let him show me exactly how he feels as the rain pounds outside.

Sixteen

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1935

Elizabeth

When I wake the next morning, Monday morning—Labor Day—the weather fits the darkness of my mood.

Last night after the hurricane warning, Sam and I returned to the inn. We didn’t speak of the almost kiss between us, and we retreated to our respective rooms. I was left with the embarrassed sensation that I’d shared too much, let the mask fall for too long. I haven’t a clue where Sam’s thoughts ran, and I spent a good portion of the night sleepless because of it, not to mention my worry over the situation with my brother, the conditions of the camps.

I dress quickly, bypassing Sam’s room altogether, and walk downstairs, the inn’s lobby empty, the reception desk abandoned. It’s been raining on and off all morning, but there’s a break in the weather, and I desperately need the reprieve, so I head toward the tiny stretch of beach I favored yesterday. As before, it’s quiet and abandoned, and I stare out at the water, the wind whipping around me, kicking up sand in a mighty whirlwind. The waves churn too violently for me to venture into the water, and truthfully, the impulse was far more satisfactory than the reality, so I content myself with watching the waves crest out over the reefs and break along the narrow stretch of shore, something soothing about that violent release of energy. There’s a boat far off in the distance, fighting the waves as though it were little more than a child’s toy.

What would inspire someone to venture out to sea in this weather?

“What are you doing out here?” a voice shouts behind me.

I pivot and watch Sam make his way through a gap in the mangroves, headed toward me, the expression on his face nearly as dark as the sky overhead.

“Not much of a day for sunning yourself, is it?” I call back.

“No, it isn’t. What possessed you to come to the beach?”

I ignore his question. “Is this the hurricane?”

“I don’t think so. Not yet, at least. I spoke with one of my friends at the Weather Bureau up in Jacksonville, and they’re monitoring it, but they think it’s still a couple days out if it hits us at all. The forecast keeps changing. It’s moving slowly.”

“A couple days?” I glance at the threatening sky. “They seemed worried yesterday at the camp that it was going to hit soon.”

“These things are hard to predict. Everyone’s doing the best they can, but with this one being so far out, we still have time.”

“Will they evacuate the camps?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Maybe if it’s bad enough. It’s too soon to tell.”

“I thought we would visit another camp today. We still have the one down by the ferry, Camp Three. Unless you have work you need to do. Do you have any leads on the man you’re searching for? I can always go by myself to the camps. Or if you’d like, later on I could help you. Maybe flirt with your quarry. Men have a way of opening up to a woman. It might work.”

Better to do something, to make myself useful, than to stay here wringing my hands about the situation with my brother.

“Absolutely not. And I have enough leads, thank you very much. He’s here, and he’s not going anywhere. I told you I’d help you, and I will, but it’s not a good idea to go looking for your brother. Not in weather like this. Those camps can flood easily with how close they are to the water. You don’t want to get caught up in that or add to the chaos when they’re trying to take care of their people. Better to wait until it clears up and then we’ll go.”

“I thought you said the storm was days away from hitting us.”

“Honestly, at the moment I don’t know what to believe. You’re right—that sky doesn’t seem like it’s days away. Maybe this is normal down here. An ugly summer storm. Who the hell knows? But it’s not worth risking our safety. Smarter to go inside the inn and wait this thing out with the rest of the guests.”

“And what about my brother?”

“I know you’re worried about him, but he’s probably safer than we are if a storm does hit. If there’s a danger to the veterans, I’m sure they’ll use the train to evacuate them. They’d be foolish to risk their safety after everything those men have been through. If we don’t make it up there today, I’ll call up to Jacksonville tomorrow when everyone’s back to work after the holiday weekend and see if any of my contacts can put us in touch with someone at the camps to help track him down.”

“I’m not good at waiting around for help. I didn’t come here for a vacation; I came to bring my brother home. If I’m gone too long, people will start to notice.”