“Your mother?”

“No, not my mother.”

Sam’s gaze drifts to my bare ring finger, the ring secure in my purse, and back to my face again.

“You’re worried he’ll come after you?”

What can I say? I’m engaged to a criminal who stokes fear in the hearts of many?

“Maybe. I didn’t exactly tell him I was coming down here.”

“He might be worried about you.”

I snort. “Not likely.”

“So you what? Agreed to marry a man for whom you have no affection? Why?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“I’m here helping you when he’s not, so maybe it’s a little my business. I can read between the lines. You’re marrying some guy you aren’t interested in, and you’re hoping your brother can save you from it?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” I snap, even though the truth is, that pretty much was my plan.

“Then talk to me. What are you going to do if you can’t locate your brother? Go back to New York and marry this man?”

“Who said I’m not interested in him?”

“You have. Every time we’ve talked.”

“Because I flirt with you? I told you—you shouldn’t take that personally.”

“Fine. I won’t take it personally. But, Elizabeth, you need to face the fact that your brother might not be here. He might not even be alive. So what’s next for you?”

“Why do you keep saying my brother might be gone?”

“Because you don’t understand what it’s like down here. You keep acting like your brother is the same person you remember from your childhood, but none of these men are.”

“None of us are,” I shout. “Do you think I’m the same girl I was before the crash? Before we lost everything? Do you think I haven’t changed? I am all that’s left of my family. My father is gone, one of my brothers is gone, and my mother is all but lost to me. Maybe originally, I came here searching for my brother because I wanted him to fix things for me, but now, I need to know he’s safe. He may not come back to New York with me, and no, I don’t know what I’ll do then. But I saw those camps, and I love him. I need to know he’s alive.”

“I can’t make any promises, but I’ll call Jacksonville and see if my friend at the Weather Bureau knows anything about the plans for the camps.”

* * *

—

Back at the inn, I wait in the sitting room while Sam goes into the front office to use their phone and call up to Jacksonville.

Outside, the weather has grown more ominous, rain falling down from the sky in thick sheets, gusts of wind blowing outside. The sky seems to be getting darker by the minute.

“Should we be worried about the storm?” I ask the woman at the front desk.

“I don’t know. The weather folks say it’s going to miss us, but I don’t like the look of those waves. Better to take precautions than risk it. Hopefully, it’ll pass by us quickly. You all should stay inside and keep away from the windows. This house has withstood a storm or two in its day, and it’ll make it through this one.”

Her words are accompanied by a clap of thunder, a crash somewhere in the distance.

Sam returns from his phone call.

“It’s really getting bad out there,” I warn. “What did you learn?”

“My friend can’t help us. The camps are a mess today. Enough people on the ground here are worried about the coming storm that they’re sending an evacuation train down to get the veterans out. The Weather Bureau’s version doesn’t line up with what people on the ground who are experienced in these matters believe. Haven’t you noticed that the locals are starting to get nervous?”

“I have.”

“We need to be prepared for the possibility that we’re going to get some of the effects of the storm sooner than everyone anticipated.”

“Should we evacuate?” I ask. “I talked to the woman at the front desk, and she said we should be fine here.”

“You saw what those camps are like,” Sam answers. “Half those tents couldn’t survive a strong wind. The other half seem like they’re about to drift into the water at a moment’s notice. I’d be evacuating those men if I were in charge, too.

“The inn seems sturdy enough—built this close to the water, it has to have been designed to withstand the weather down here. And the hurricane still might miss us. Maybe this is the worst it’s going to get. It’s a lot harder moving hundreds of men than it would be for us to take shelter if we need it.”

“Do you know where they’re taking them?” I ask.

“My friend thought Miami, but he wasn’t sure.”

“If they’re headed to Miami, maybe we should make our way up there.”

“At most, they’ll be gone a day or two. Better we stay here until they’re back. Besides, you don’t even know that your brother will evacuate. He might be down in Key West for the weekend. I know you want to find him. I’ll do everything in my power to help you. You have my word. But you can’t risk your life. We have to be smart about this. I’m not comfortable driving in this weather. The roads are going to start flooding soon. We don’t know the area that well. Better we wait here than risk getting stranded somewhere without good shelter.”

I stare out the window, the wind and rain blurring everything. The desire to go after my brother is inescapable, but knowing that someone is likely coming to rescue him makes it easier to do the thing I’ve always struggled with most—

To wait.

Seventeen

Mirta

When I wake the next morning, Anthony is already up and gone, a red rose lying on his pillow beside me.

I never would have thought Anthony would be such a romantic.

I stroke the soft petals, a smile spreading on my face. Last night was lovely, and while our marriage has yet to be fully consummated, I admit the intimacies between us thus far have made me more eager than afraid.

I rise, a new awareness of my body dawning. My mother told me there was power to be found in the marital bed, that my husband would be kinder to me if I pleased him, less likely to stray if I kept him satisfied. She never described it as anything other than a means to an end, never told me I could like it, that my husband could bring me pleasure.

I pick one of the prettier dresses from my trousseau, a lacy, frivolous confection that is wholly inappropriate for our current surroundings yet I’m sure Anthony will love.