Second Chance Sweethearts. Kristen Ethridge
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the hood, though, and his trendy longer haircut was blowing back and forth with the gusts.
It was weird to think this was all happening right outside her window—literally—and yet, she was watching the ever-heavier lines of rain and buffeting winds on TV, as though it could have been anywhere in the world.
She’d been through a number of hurricanes since her family moved to Port Provident from Mexico when she was a child. They’d lived on the Yucatán Peninsula, so she’d seen a few there, too. Gloria considered herself a hurricane pro at this point. Go to the local big box store. Buy plenty of batteries, bottled water, a new flashlight or two, and load up on the nonperishable food. She had a great mini propane stove that she’d boiled many a pot of water on to make posthurricane ramen noodles. She knew when to fill up the bathtub and had studied the required elevation survey of her lot before making an offer on the house. She had moving things to higher ground down to a science.
But this time, it wasn’t just about her. She had a pregnant teenager in her care—and that girl could go into the next stage of labor and become a mama at any minute.
“Gloria. You’re still here.”
She jumped at the sound of a deep voice as her front door opened.
“Rigo.” Ice caught in her throat at the reappearance of the man who’d kept popping into every thought she’d had for the past half hour.
“They’ve closed the causeway early. The wind is gaining speed fast.” He shut the door behind him with a soft click, then stood near Gloria in front of her only window that wasn’t covered with plywood to guard against flying debris. Tanna got off the couch to take a look, as well. They watched in comfortable silence for a few moments as the sheets of rain beat against the small window and loose palm fronds swirled in the streets below, blowing and tumbling in the wind. Suddenly, Gloria became aware that something was very wrong.
“Rigo! You’re dripping on the floor!” A puddle had begun to collect near the sturdy work boots he was wearing.
He shrugged, a sheepish grin catching the corners of his narrow lips. “I’m soaked to the bone, but that puddle isn’t me.”
“Gloria?” Tanna’s usually soft voice jumped an octave. “I think that’s me. I think my water broke.”
Gloria’s heart sank. A crack of adrenaline to match the lightning bolts outside shot through her body. “Okay, if we can’t get her to a hospital off the island, we’ve got to get her to Provident Medical Center, then. The clinic is closed, obviously.”
Rigo shook his head. “Can’t. I heard it on the radio on my way over here. They’re near the harbor and the water is higher there than anywhere else. Their power is already down and their main generator failed. They have only the absolute bare minimum amount of backup power. It’s a good thing they evacuated all the critical patients this morning and discharged everyone who could be sent home. They’re not accepting any patients right now. I’m afraid it’s going to get more dire before this night is over.”
Gloria settled Tanna back on the sofa, then quickly checked her rate of breathing and the time between the pulse of her contractions. Everything in Tanna’s body was kicking into gear.
So was Hurricane Hope. A gust of wind shook the front windows to the house.
Gloria looked around her little home. She’d never stayed on the island through a storm as big as what the NWN reporters were now saying Hope would evolve to. She thought back to the elevation certificate she and Felipe had to obtain as part of the home’s purchase. The home was behind the barrier wall that ran behind the beach and protected the majority of the residential areas of the city, but a generous storm surge would put several feet of water into her home, without question.
She’d made a career from out-of-hospital deliveries at the birth center. She was confident in her skills, no matter where she needed to use them. She knew Tanna was at low risk of any kind of complications, but even so, Gloria always operated from the vantage point of caution where mamas and babies were concerned.
And right now, caution had been thrown to the wind and blown miles away. The little home on Travis Place was no place for Tanna to labor and give birth.
Gloria paced, three steps forward, followed by three steps back. “But if the causeway is closed, we’re trapped on the island. I don’t want to take her to the shelter of last resort at the high school, either, if I don’t have to. Too many people. She doesn’t need an audience. Stress can slow down labor and complicate it, putting us in an emergency situation. This is stressful enough. I don’t want to add to it.”
Rigo looked out the window. “I’ve got the beach patrol truck. It’s a four-by-four, so we should be able to get back to Tía Inez’s house just fine. But not if we wait too much longer.”
Gloria’s head snapped around. “Your aunt’s house? What do you mean?”
“You said it yourself. The shelter isn’t ideal. But you can’t stay here. I don’t know what kind of night I’m going to have. I figure I’m going to be rescuing some pretty stubborn people who should have already left from their homes.” Rigo smiled. “But there’s no one more stubborn than my aunt, who just so happens to live in a house that survived the Great Storm of 1910 and every storm since.”
Gloria started to shake her head. The whole thing sounded crazy. Rigo held up his hand, wordlessly asking Gloria to hear him out.
“You can stay with her and take care of each other. I don’t expect the water to get up to the second story.” Rigo raked a hand through his wet hair, sending a small stream of water down his shirt and to the floor to join the widening puddle. “You’re not going to have lights or running water anywhere you go, not even at the shelter. I thought about it on the way over here and I think Inez’s house is your best option right now.” Gloria tried to focus on making a decision, but Rigo had on a white Beach Patrol T-shirt, and the water had rendered it practically see-through and as close as a second skin.
Just for a second, Gloria stopped running birthing scenarios in her head and caught herself staring. He clearly still works out as much as he did at eighteen on the baseball team.
Gloria shook her head to clear her derailed train of thought.
“What, you won’t go? You don’t really have a choice, Glo.” Rigo’s voice sounded strained. He looked at her, then Tanna, then the door.
“Gloria, please? Can we go there? Please.” There was no escaping the mix of pleading and rising panic in Tanna’s voice.
“Okay. I need ten minutes to finish gathering my things,” Gloria said to Rigo. Tanna’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Five. I don’t think the truck will be able to handle us staying here ten. The water’s already risen two inches up the tires while we’ve been talking. I’m starting to worry about the truck starting again.” He narrowed his eyes and stared at her straight-on. “Felipe would want you to take care of yourself first and get out of here as fast as you can. Stuff can be replaced. People can’t. You know that.”
Ferocity rose in Gloria, like an angry cat who’d been out on the streets too long. “Felipe? You lost all right to speak to me of Felipe when you led him into an ambush, then didn’t even have the decency to show up at his funeral. Believe me, Rigo, I know you can’t replace people.”
Her breath came out in short bursts through flared nostrils. Her jaw muscles clenched together. She knew she was right on this, and she would not back down. Felipe and his memory belonged to her. Not to the so-called best friend who bailed. She would not back down. Not even when she saw what looked like hurt in his eyes.
Rigo turned away and looked back out the window. “It wasn’t an ambush. Gloria, it was a traffic stop gone very, very wrong. You know that. The official investigation told you that.”
She knew every word of that report by heart. “Semantics don’t matter. He should have been there at the hospital. With me. With Mateo. You knew he was on