A Home by the Sea (23 page)

“Of course. You two go on. I'll just sit here and knit. That smell happens to be the decadent cookies Jilly has just made. I may not move for the rest of the afternoon.”

“You're sure?” Gage hesitated, studying his wife's face. “I'd feel better knowing more about the structure of this old place. You're all going to be spending a lot of time here.”

“I'll be fine, Gage. Go on with Noah. Take several of Jilly's
macarons
before you leave. They may be gone by the time you get back.”

“I think we can manage to save a few,” Jilly muttered. “I've made six dozen.” She shook flour off her hands, glancing out the window toward the harbor. “That's strange.”

“What?” Gage looked over her shoulder. Out in the harbor the water was smooth and leaden, with no waves. Beyond the lighthouse the horizon was a hard, flat line.

Jilly shrugged. “I don't know. The harbor—it's so calm. I'm not used to seeing it that way.”

“It looks good to me. Better than a storm. We've already had three big ones in the last two weeks.” Gage gave his wife a kiss. “I'll be back soon. You take it easy, honey. No lifting, understand?”

“I promise,” Caro said, sticking out her tongue at him. “Nothing heavier than a few
macarons.”

 

C
ARO HEARD THE SLAM
of the door and her husband's feet on the stairs. She forced herself not to look out the window, not to search for his retreating back. It was a small test and a small victory. She knew the real test would come soon, when Gage left for Afghanistan.

She closed her eyes and rubbed the aching spot in her lower back. For a moment her hand opened and her knitting was forgotten as she felt the sudden
surge of movement just below her heart, where a tiny foot kicked restlessly.

Be safe, little one. He'll come back to us. You'll see.

She heard the sound of a motor and then Gage's truck moving off down the street. He
had
to come back to them.

She picked up her knitting and eyed the plate that Jilly held high, filling the air filled with luscious scents.

Grace snagged a
macaron
and took a quick bite. “Jilly, these are pure decadence, and your meringues have perfect little edges. I have a French recipe in one of my books, but yours are different. You have to tell me how many egg whites—”

She didn't finish.

Dishes rattled on the kitchen counter. Wood creaked in the walls and over the front porch and the glass panes shook at the front windows. The floor of the old house seemed to sway sharply.

Jilly spun around, looking confused. “It can't be the floor. They said it was stable.” Duffy shot toward her, barking furiously, his whole body rigid.

And then the earthquake struck in earnest.

T
HE WALLS CREAKED
as the house was plunged into darkness. Caro caught a shaky breath, leaning against the wall. “Power's out. Must be an earthquake—I can't remember the last time we had one.” She pressed one hand to her chest, over her hammering heart. “We have to get outside. Right now.” Behind her a window shattered in the kitchen.

“You go first,” Jilly said hoarsely. “Duffy!” Jilly grabbed the frightened puppy's collar and swung around toward the front of the house. “Caro, go. We'll be right behind you. Call Bogart.”

At Caro's call, the big dog shot past, circled Caro's feet, and then stopped short. He stared into the darkness and whined.

“Bogie, honey, come on. We have to go.” Caro grabbed for his collar, but the retriever pulled free, scrambling toward the door off the kitchen. “No!” Caro called. “Bogie, stay. Don't—”

She blanched as she heard Bacall's high-pitched meow from down the hall. “Sweet heaven, the cat must be back there somewhere. Bogart knew. We have to—”

“You have to get out
now,
” Jilly snapped. She pushed Caro toward the door, one hand firm at her back. “Take Duffy's collar and go outside. We'll get the other two out. Go, Caro.”

The walls creaked ominously. Caro touched her stomach protectively and turned toward the front door. Voices seemed to echo from a distance, along with the sound of powerful motors. The front door hinges rattled.

“Hurry up,” Caro called.

“We'll be right there.” Grace walked blindly through the darkness, wincing when she hit the table. By touch alone she found her knitting bag slung over her chair and dug out her lighted knitting needles from an interior pocket. With one quick flick of the switch, the room glowed in pale blue light.

Jilly moved behind her, pointing at Bogart. The dog was right outside the partially open door to the storage room, growling low in his throat.

“Here, you take one of these needles. Let's get him out of here.” Grace shot ahead of Jilly. When she held up her lighted knitting needle, she saw Bacall's white shape inside the storage room. The cat was pressed rigidly against the wall.

A new crack stretched ominously in her direction. As the floor creaked, the little cat tried to leap away. She hit the wall, stunned, and toppled in a wild struggle toward the splintering hole, down into the darkness.

 

G
AGE SLAMMED ON HIS BRAKES
as the first wave hit.

An oak tree toppled in front of him and leaves rained down over the windshield. “Earthquake,” he said hoarsely.

Noah jumped from the truck, racing down the center of the street. A branch hit the cement beside him, toppling a fence. Windows broke somewhere nearby. Grimly, Noah leaped over the tangle of branches and fallen wood and kept going, with Gage close behind.

Another tree fell. Noah pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and kept running, his face grim. He saw a figure charging up the back steps of the Harbor House. “Who's that at the back stairs?”

“A friend,” Gage snapped. “If there's a way inside, he'll find it. Head for the front.”

“I don't understand,” Noah said curtly.

“Trust me and go for the front.”

Something hissed overhead. Gage bit back a curse as a power line swayed crazily, then plummeted straight toward them, raining white sparks over the ground and blocking their way to the front steps.

The figure at the back steps leaned out. Gage gestured sharply to the back door. “Tyler, get inside. Get them out. We'll work our way past this power line up through the next yard and then back around through the front.”

At least he prayed they could get in.

Gage felt sweat dotting his forehead.

“Copy that, Lieutenant.” Tyler gave a two-finger wave and then disappeared.

 

T
HEY HAD TO GET THE CAT
.

The floor was still shifting and Grace wouldn't leave her.

She heard Caro's awkward steps as she pulled Duffy toward the front door. Meanwhile, Jilly was trying to hold Bogart, who was barking wildly. She vanished, then called out from the kitchen, “Salmon. Bacall loves it. Let's pray that it works.”

Jilly reappeared with a wedge of fish and a big produce basket. Holding her lighted knitting needle up, Grace led the way to the storeroom.

She leaned toward the frantic cat. “Come on, Bacall. Everything will be fine, honey. Come and get your treat.”

She dropped the fish into the basket and lowered it into the crack, afraid that her weight would make the hole bigger. But the cat was frozen, crouching on a beam just below the floor edge.

“Hurry,” Jilly snapped. “Try again.”

Grace took a breath and inched toward the hole, feeling sweat drop into her eyes as she lowered the basket slowly. “Come on, Bacall. Come here to the basket. You're going to be fine, baby.” Grace stretched flat, forcing down a wave a fear as the floor creaked beneath her.

“Reach over your right shoulder,” Jilly whispered. “I've got a rope. Thread it through the handle of
the basket and you can lower it down to Bacall. But don't go any closer to that hole.”

Grace dropped the rope twice before she managed to knot it into place. Carefully, she lowered the basket toward the beam where the cat huddled in terror, her white tail fluffed wide, her eyes huge. “Come on, honey. Right over here,” Grace whispered. “You can smell the fish, can't you?”

The floor moved as another tremor hit.

“Jilly, you should go out,” Grace said quietly.

“Like hell. Get that basket down and grab her. I'll be right here to hold you if…”

If the floor collapsed.

Jilly blew out a breath. “But she's too terrified to move.”

Just like me,
Grace thought wildly. “There has to be a way. Jilly, didn't Gage leave his knit hat on the table? Maybe if we drop his hat in the basket…”

Jilly ran for the hat while Grace talked quietly to the panicked cat. It seemed like an eternity before she felt Jilly's hand on her shoulder and then the brush of wool against her hand.

“Give it a shot.” Jilly held up a real flashlight from the kitchen. She sucked in a breath as the sudden light filled the storeroom.

Bacall had backed up to the very edge of the wood. One more movement and she would go over.

 

N
OAH JUMPED OVER
the fallen fence that circled the Harbor House. With Gage right behind him, he
clambered up onto the front porch, then pushed aside a broken table. The front door opened with a squeal of hinges.

Caro appeared, gripping Bogart's collar, her face white with strain. The man Noah had seen at the back stairs had his arm around Caro's shoulders, guiding her outside.

Noah heard Gage's sharp, indrawn breath as he lunged and caught his wife to his chest. “Thank God you're safe.” He shot a glance at Noah. “I'm taking her to the truck, away from falling debris. Tyler, I'll come back after—”

“No. Stay there with her,” Noah ordered. He shot a glance at the tall man near the door. “I could use some help.”

“You got it,” the man called Tyler said. “Go take care of your wife, Lieutenant. We'll handle things here.”

Bogart did not want to leave, and Gage had to pull the whining dog down the slope away from the house. A fire truck rounded the corner, sirens flashing, and the dog howled in a frenzy.

“Better hurry.” The man at the door glanced up and cursed as another glass pane broke free and shattered onto the porch.

Noah jumped the pile of glass. “Where are they?”

“Back there.” The tall man gestured toward the back of the darkened house. “They're trying to res cue a cat.” He lifted a big tactical flashlight from
the pocket of his jacket. “Straight ahead. Watch for broken furniture.”

Noah followed the sound of voices from the hallway, passing broken dishes and several overturned chairs. When he crossed the kitchen, he saw Duffy standing protectively next to Jilly. Jilly swung around, her eyes widening.

Then he heard Grace's low, reassuring voice, and a wave of relief hit him in the chest. She was safe. She sounded completely calm.

Noah nodded at Jilly and then moved toward Grace. His hands clenched when he saw the widening crack in the old wood floor.

“That's it, honey. Just a little bit more, and you'll be in the basket. Come on here to Momma Grace.”

Tyler shone his light over Jilly's shoulder. Noah saw Grace lying prone, her body stretched at a heart-stopping angle over the widening crack in the floor. She held a big basket out toward the white cat huddled on a broken beam just under the floor.

“Go with Tyler,” Noah whispered to Jilly, never taking his eyes off Grace. “He'll help you with Duffy. I'll get Grace and the cat.”

Jilly gripped Duffy's collar, staring from one man to the other. Then she took a hard breath and nodded. Tyler simply lifted the dog over his shoulder and rushed Jilly out toward the door.

Without a word Noah knelt behind Grace and gripped her waist, holding her securely in case the situation went south fast. With his other hand he
gripped one leg of the heavy butcher-block table just inside the door. It wasn't a great backup plan, but it was the best he could manage on short notice.

“Noah,” Grace whispered. “I'm feeling a little precarious here.”

Down in the hole, the white shape moved.

“That's it, honey. Get into the basket. We'll have you out in a few seconds. Good girl.” Grace began to pull up the basket, slowly rising onto her elbows. The floor creaked ominously.

Noah grabbed her belt, pulling her backward in a quick, powerful movement. With the basket anchored between them, he swung Grace up into his arms and raced for the front door.

“Noah.” Grace's voice broke. “I was so…afraid. The floor—”

“Shh. You did great, honey. Just great.”

Upstairs another window broke. A pot clanged as it dropped onto the kitchen floor. The front door hinges creaked and the big door tilted sharply.

Gage's friend was right outside, and he caught the weight of the big door on his shoulder, holding it while Noah squeezed past. “The other woman is down at the sidewalk,” he said to Noah. “The front rails are down. Take the left side of the porch. And stand clear of that fallen power line. The firemen haven't capped it yet.”

“What about you?”

“I got it.”

Noah gave a quick nod and crossed the porch, in
tensely aware of Grace's hands at his shoulders and the slam of her heart against his chest.

It seemed to take forever to climb over the shaky rails, lift Grace and the frightened cat over to safety and drop to the yard. The big oak had fallen, its branches covering the ground. Two firemen motioned him away as they worked near the fallen power line.

“I'll take the cat. You've got your hands full.” Tyler ran by. With a faint grin he scooped up the basket with Gage's cat under one arm and ran off like a crazy quarterback as more firemen fanned out along the debris-filled street.