Dancing in a Hurricane (41 page)

***

"Ms. Prentis, I'm sorry, but can we cut this short? They've just upgraded the tropical storm to a hurricane and my wife wants to get out of town."

Bree's face must have blanched.

The hospital administrator set his phone on his desk and laughed. "Your first hurricane?"

She nodded. "I'm a little nervous."

"Understandable." He looked at her résumé. "But you live in an older, upscale area. Those houses are made to take a lot of abuse. You should be fine sitting this one out."

"May I ask why you're leaving town?" She moved to the edge of her chair.

"We're right on the beach and our lower level floods." He made a resigned face. "The wife is sick of dealing with it."

"Please don't let me keep you." She stood. "We can finish the interview when you return."

He rose from his chair. "No need. You're exactly what we're looking for, Ms. Prentis. If you're interested, I'd like you to start Monday."

Excitement raced through her. "Thank you, Mr. Agnosio. I'm interested and anxious to get started. What time on Monday?"

He gave her a business card. "Call me Sunday night and we'll discuss the particulars." He walked around his desk and opened the door for her. "We've been without a physical therapist for too long. I can't tell you how pleased I am that you're willing to work part time."

"I enjoy the work and twenty hours a week fits my schedule perfectly." She'd work mornings while Sixto slept in and be home to spend the day with him.

"Perfect. Perfect. Stay dry, Ms. Prentis."

"You can call me Bree."

"Okay. And I'm Rob. Give me a call on Sunday."

She walked the long way through the tiny hospital to get a better feel for the layout. The therapy area was in the basement, the equipment not as modern as she was used to and the pay ridiculous, but as Sixto said, she didn't need money.

As she walked out the door, she opened her umbrella, checked her phone, and saw a text message. Sixto wanted her to pick up D cell batteries on her way home. She jogged to her car and slid in, started it and found a station that covered the hurricane. She shivered. Fear of the unknown was always the worst.

Fifteen minutes later, she walked in the house and set the small bag on the table. Sixto came inside from the patio, shrugging out of his wet raincoat. "
Cariña
, you look fantastic."

She glanced down at her conservative navy suit, nylons and black pumps. "I look like a businesswoman, not a newly employed Physical Therapist." She smiled.

He stopped walking. "You got the job?"

"Mm hm." She laughed. "Despite being seen by the receptionist tossing an empty beer bottle into the trash before I walked into the care center."

One of Sixto's eyes narrowed. "You drank a beer before the interview?"

"No." She slid out of her pumps. "I'm pretty sure Rico left it in there for me to find, but I didn't see it until I was halfway there."

He chuckled as he tossed his jacket on the rug by the garage door and pulled her into his arms. "Congratulations on not getting pulled over for open bottle. And for getting the job."

"Thank you. It's the smallest hospital I've worked in, but they have a lot of outpatient clients, so I'll be busy."

"Part time, right?"

"Yes, part time. And it's only five minutes away."

"Good." He kissed her. "I like having you here."

She opened her mouth to comment on his lack of a job, but closed it again. She had to learn to accept him as he was. "I like being here, too." She looked around. "I feel comfortable in this house."

"With you here, it's become a home."

His words sent shivers of pleasure through her body.

"Cold?" He swatted her bottom. "Go change into your sweats and come into my room."

Her eyebrow shot up.

He wagged his eyebrows at her. "We'll watch the news and see what's going on with the storm."

"Okay." She walked toward her room and looked out the patio doors. "What happened out there?" The furniture was gone and a black tarp covered the pool and spa.

"I've been working. You thought I stayed in bed all morning?"

She smiled and looked at him. "How did you get that huge tarp in from the garage?"

He flexed his arms and chest. "You doubting how strong I am?"

"Really?" Was he that beefy? "It has to weigh two hundred pounds."

He deflated. "No. Élian and Rico came over and helped."

She laughed. "That's nice of them."

"They're over here using the pool and eating our food all summer. It's the least they can do." He picked up the bag from the table. "Batteries and chocolate?" He looked at her strangely.

She put her hand out for the candy. "I'm a little stressed. Chocolate helps."

He took the batteries out and handed her the bag. "Save some for me."

She nodded. Did hurricanes make him nervous too?

In his room, they sat in adjacent recliners and watched The Weather Channel. A meteorologist in a raincoat was being blown around on a beach near Miami. He shouted into the microphone, "Expect sustained winds of eighty miles per hour and bands of rain to hit this area all afternoon. The hurricane will make landfall at around midnight. Offshore oil rigs have been evacuated." He pointed to houses behind him. "Windows boarded up and boats moved from marinas."

The picture flashed to the indoor desk and the anchor said, "Expect heavy rainfall, some flooding, high surf with waves of fifteen to eighteen feet."

Bree looked at Sixto. He was busy putting the batteries into a radio. "Are you sure we're safe here?"

"What?" He grabbed the remote and turned the volume down on the television.

She rubbed her pinky. "Should we evacuate?"

He laughed then sobered. "You're serious. No. We're fine…" He set the radio down and stood. "Come on,
cariña
, I should have shown you this days ago."

He took her hand and led her to the garage. Flipping on the overhead lights, he walked past her car, past his truck to the third garage spot that was now filled with patio furniture, trash cans, and recycling bins.

Opening the utility room door, he brought her inside and showed her the wall. "Block construction. The outside has been stuccoed, but this house is made of solid brick on a concrete slab. It was built in the '60s and has stood through probably a hundred hurricanes."

She nodded and looked up. "What about the roof? I heard stories about whole roofs flying off."

He smiled. "Good question." He pointed to a corner of the room above the water heater. "When I remodeled, I had a reinforced steel roof put on. This close to the ocean, wood rots, and termites are always a problem in Florida. The beams are cemented into the block walls. And the shingles are double-nailed. I watched them do it."

She put her hand on his chest. "You're so smart."

He gave her a crooked smile. "I am. And I'm glad you've come to appreciate it."

She batted her eyes. "What else have you done to keep our nest safe?"

He opened a door at the back of the room. "Emergency generator. If the power goes out, we run this for the refrigerator and the sump pump."

"Refrigerator I've seen. Where's the sump pump?"

"It's buried." He gestured to the sides of the garage floor. "This is all tiled so water runs to a low point and is pumped out and away from the house."

She looked at the line of gas cans next to the generator. "It runs on regular unleaded?"

"Yep." He tapped one with his foot. "I refilled them all last week."

"You have been busy."

He shrugged. "Nothing's too good for you, love."

She sighed, loving being called love. She leaned in to him for a kiss, but he'd already moved away.

With excitement in his voice, he said, "These shelves have enough water and food for a week. If the power goes out, we'll be ready." He tapped a box on the shelf. "Propane stove, so you don't have to eat your soup cold."

"Wow. Really impressive. You're totally organized."

He looked out the garage window. "The rain has slowed. That means we must be between heavy bands. Remember they talked about that on TV?"

She appreciated his explaining this to her. "Yes."

He put his hands on her arms. "I'm going out to board up the garage windows and take in the lamps."

"I'll go with."

He shook his head. "You don't have to."

"I'd like to." She thought a minute. "What if you're out of town on a photo shoot and I have to get all this done." She gestured around the garage. "I should know how to do it."

He paused. "Okay. Let's get rain gear on." He opened a huge plastic storage bin that held another, smaller bin. Opening that lid, he pulled out green knee-high rubber boots and an orange coat for her.

Pulling on the boots, she asked, "Why do you keep this in two containers?" Did flood waters reach this far inland? But why worry about raincoats and galoshes getting wet?

He shrugged and didn't look at her. "No reason." He stepped inside the house and came out wearing his raincoat and boots.

She slid into her coat and smiled, realizing it must be to keep the spiders out. He was serious about his arachnophobia. "Ready."

He walked to an electrical panel next to the overhead garage door. "This switch…" He opened the door to the panel. "…shuts down the power to the lights in the yard and the sprinklers."

She stepped closer as he threw the switch. It was well marked. "Okay."

He pulled her hood up on her head. "If you get cold or wet, you come inside, all right
cariña
?"

"Yes, dear. But I'm from Seattle where it's cold and wet 365 days a year."

"Fine." He pulled up his own hood. "Then I'll come in if I get cold or wet and you can finish up outside."

She giggled. "Fine."

He kissed her, their hoods bumping. "Grab that screwdriver." He carried plywood outside and she followed. He screwed the wood in place over the garage windows and by the time he finished, she was cold and wet.

He led her to one of the yard lamps, unfastened the globe, and pulled it off. Handing it to her, he unscrewed the bulb and gave that to her as well. "Would you set these on the shelf next to your car?"

"Sure. I'll be right back."

The rain came harder and at an angle. Her sweatpants were soaked from mid-thigh to below her knees. Just stepping into the garage gave relief from the driving rain.

She went back out, made three trips before they finished the lamps. Sixto came into the garage and closed the door behind him. He carried the mailbox under his arm, looking too cute.

"I suppose that would blow away, too."

"Yeah. It's easier to bring it in than to buy a new one every hurricane."

She shivered and unsnapped her raincoat. "What about the house windows.

"That's the easy part." He pointed to a panel by the door into the house. They walked over to it and he hung their coats on hooks by the door. Opening the panel, he said, "It's important to do one at a time. It's a strain on the electrical if you don't."

He pressed the first button and the sound of a metal storm shutter echoed through the house.

"It's kind of spooky," she said. "Like we're being locked in."

He looked at her. "Do you have claustrophobia?"

She shook her head. "Not right now, but ask me in a couple hours."

"I'll distract you." He pulled her to him and kissed her. "You're cold. Go change." He pressed the second button. "Or go take a hot bath."

"I'm not that cold. I'll change and make us some tea."

"I'll be done in a few minutes." He pressed the third button and Bree went to her bedroom. The metal shutter rolled down over her patio door and she turned on the lights. This must be what prison was like.

She hung her wet clothes in the shower and changed into heavy sweats and wool socks. Sixto was still in the garage working the shutter controls when she came out of her room. She waved and went into the kitchen and pulled two mugs from the cabinet. The kitchen window was already shuttered and she turned on the light over the sink. They had an instant hot water faucet and she filled the mugs and dropped in bags of decaf Earl Gray.

She carried them to the living room, got the two candlesticks from the credenza, set them on the coffee table, and lit them. Sitting down, she heard Sixto swear.

He stomped by her to the patio doors, his raincoat, boots and a metal rod in his hand.

She got up and walked over to him. "Anything I can help with?"

He handed her the rod. "Hold that for me." He put on his raincoat and boots and pointed to the metal shutter over his fitness room. It was halfway down. "That one sticks sometimes. I thought I'd fixed it."

Taking the rod from her, he said, "I'll be right back." He went out on the patio and started hand-cranking the shutter down.

Through the heavy sheets of rain, she could barely see what he was doing. He impressed her with his control of the situation. She'd be a frightened mess if it wasn't for his reassurance and planning. That's how he did everything in his life. Organized and methodical. He liked the house clean—didn't like her dirty dishes lying around. His college classes were at his own speed—he wouldn't listen to her when she urged him to accelerate his program.