Washed Away

“I understand.” Beth nodded bravely, and Cheryl’s heart went out to her, every shred of nursing instinct telling her that this woman really needed help.

For the next little while Flynn was a model patient, asking endless questions as Cheryl applied the back slab. An incredulous smile broke out on his face as Cheryl bandaged over the plaster slab.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” he said.

“Great, isn’t it?” Cheryl grinned. “But keep it dry, or it will go all soggy.”

“Thanks so much again,” Beth said as she followed Cheryl to the hallway. “For everything, Cheryl.”

“Can Flynn have this?” Pulling a chocolate bar out of her pocket, Cheryl gave it to Beth who seemed to remember something and dashed off.

“Wait there!” she called, but was back seconds later with a large tin. “The cookies I baked.” She smiled, handing them over. “Share them around the crews, but make sure Hal gets a couple from me.”

“Will do, on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You get back inside and put your feet up. Forget the housework, forget the baking, concentrate on you and your boys for now.”

CHERYL WOULD HAVE RUN to the Jeep, but the wind was so strong, it was more a case of two steps forward, one step back. And as for breathing…Cheryl had no trouble getting air in. It whipped into her throat and pushed its way into her lungs uninvited—but breathing out was almost impossible. The driver door swung back in her hands as she opened it, and she had to battle the wind to close it once she was inside.

Starting the engine, Cheryl prepared to drive off. The rain was so loud on the roof, she at first didn’t register the pounding on the driver’s window, then frowned in concern as she saw a drenched Beth banging furiously on it.

Cheryl didn’t dare try opening the door again. Pushing the power window switch, she felt a moment’s un-ease, wondering what on earth could have forced Beth to leave her son and baby and run out in this weather.

“What’s happened?”

“The storm’s shifting course,” Beth shouted against the wind. “It just came over the radio….”

Cheryl felt her heart lurch. Mitch had been right!

“Is it going to hit Turning Point?”

“They’re not sure, but it’s swerved from its predicted course and it’s coming closer than they expected. A couple of nearby rivers have already burst their banks. You need to get back, and quickly, before the route back to town floods and you’re stuck here!”

Cheryl nodded. “Get inside, Beth.” The wind almost whipped the words out of her mouth. “Secure the house.”

“I will.” Beth nodded. “There’s a shortcut you could take.” She was pointing behind the house. “There’s a private road. Follow it down, then take a left at Hansen’s Barn.”

“Where?”

“Hansen’s Barn. You won’t be able to miss it. It’s an old, derelict barn. There’s a bridge…”

The conversation was becoming more difficult with every word, and Cheryl shouted over the wind. “The road behind your house?”

Beth gave a rapid nod. “Then swing a left.”

“Call Mitch,” Cheryl instructed her. “Tell him I’m coming. And Beth…get inside!”

Cheryl could feel the adrenaline kick in as she drove off, only this time it wasn’t welcome. It wasn’t the usual surge of excitement that hit her when an alert came in. This was the first fluttering of real panic as she contemplated what they could be facing if Hurricane Damon hit this region full force. She thought of her colleagues, Dana, Nate and Amy, all out on calls.

Would they know?

Stay calm, Cheryl. The mantra pounded in her head, She had to get back to town. Once there, she’d have the answers. She’d be in a position to do something. She’d be back in control—

“Hell!” The curse slipped out of her lips as a dark bundle dashed across the road, too quickly for Cheryl to swerve. She slammed on the brakes, skidding to a halt just in time to avoid hitting the object.

Craning her neck, she peered out at the roadside, her heart rate slowly returning to its already accelerated state. A fox perhaps, running for shelter. Immediately she wished she hadn’t checked the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of solemn eyes and a shivering mass of fur. If only she were one of those people who could just drive right on.

But she wasn’t.

Cheryl pulled up her collar and forced the door open. She had no desire to venture outside again into the driving wind and rain, but she had no choice now that she knew it was a dog.

“Come on, little guy.” She crouched by her vehicle. “You’re not looking at some sentimental animal lover here. This lady’s in a rush, so if you want a ride, this is your only chance.”

What was she doing? A category four hurricane was about to hit, and here she was, trying to coax a stupid dumb mutt into the van. What was Mitch’s reaction going to be when she arrived back at the station with an extra passenger?

“Last chance,” she warned, shaking her head in exasperation when the little dog refused to move. She had to walk away and head back to town. But as she climbed inside the Jeep, the smell of Beth’s fresh-baked cookies was the first thing to hit her.

“Very last chance,” Cheryl corrected wryly, stepping back down from the Jeep and holding out a cookie, which was fast dissolving in the rain, to the shivering mutt. “Come on, little guy.”

It wasn’t going to work, and even though Cheryl wasn’t the world’s greatest animal lover, it tore at her heart to turn her back. But a lost black dog must surely be way down on her list of priorities.

He might not be lost, Cheryl consoled herself as she resumed what was becoming a familiar struggle to close the car door. He was probably hotfooting his way back to his home right now. But suddenly, with an indignant yelp, a wedge of wet fur clambered furiously onto Cheryl’s lap, then whining in protest as she pushed him over to the passenger seat. He agreed to stay put only when Cheryl placed a pile of Beth’s cookies on the seat beside her.

“Somehow, I don’t think you were heading for home, little guy,” she said sadly, feeling the skinny ribs under the matted black fur. But there was no time for sympathy now. Slipping the emergency brake off, Cheryl glanced over at her companion, who was munching away, looking up every now and then with grateful eyes.

“What shall we call you, huh? You need a name.” He was chomping away with gusto, somehow whimpering with delight at the same time. “Buster,” Cheryl said out loud. “We’ll call you Buster.” The dog looked up for a second and met her eyes. “Hey, Buster, save a couple of cookies for Hal.” Cheryl grinned as she drove on. “Or Beth will never forgive me.”

There was the barn, just as Beth had said.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Cheryl peered over the flat landscape at the massive, deserted barn Beth had assured her she couldn’t miss.

“Where to now, huh?” Despite the demister, the windows were steaming up at an alarming rate. She wiped the windshield with the back of her hand and drove slowly, visibility decreasing with every slow lurch forward.

She’d have to call Mitch and tell him she was lost. As if that wasn’t just what the guy needed right now! But Mitch must have been thinking along the same lines, because before she’d even pulled out the cell phone he had given her, it rang shrilly in her hand.

There’s a bridge. Beth’s instructions played over in her mind as Cheryl pressed the answer button. There was a bridge, but not for much longer, Cheryl thought darkly, watching the swollen river rising, torrents of water sweeping along the banks, huge branches circling like tiny twigs as the current swept them along.

Pressing the phone to her ear, she braced herself for a few sharp words from the fire chief.

“Where the hell…” He got no further before his voice broke up.

Cheryl shouted back, not sure whether he could hear. “I’m five minutes away, Mitch. Beth told me that the storm’s heading this way!” She was at the edge of the river now, and pulled open the glove compartment. Finding a rag inside, she took a moment to wipe the windshield clear. “She told me a shortcut. I’m at Hansen’s Barn. I’m just coming over the bridge, so I should be with you soon.” Although she strained to hear, there was only a crackling noise, broken by occasional fragments of Mitch’s words.

“I won’t be much longer, Mitch!” Cheryl shouted. “I can’t hear you, you’re breaking up. I’ll be back soon.” Putting the phone down, intending to resume the conversation once she was safely across the river, Cheryl edged the vehicle forward, her nose practically against the windshield now as she strained to see. She chewed her lip nervously as she eyed the rickety bridge. From what Cheryl could make out, the wooden structure looked about as stable as old Hansen’s Barn.

But surely Beth would know, Cheryl reasoned. She was a local, for goodness’ sake, and already her directions had cut Cheryl’s journey in half.