Page 71 of When We Are Falling

“Hello?” Holding the phone to my ear, keeping my voice low.

“Hey, it’s Patrick.” His tone is grim, and I instantly know it’s bad news.

“What’s going on?” I’m already bracing myself. “It’s not like you to be up this early.”

“There’s been a breach,” Patrick says, ignoring my jab. “The booms across the wetlands broke, and oil slated for clean up this week has leaked in. It’s looking bad.”

I let out a slow breath, trying to keep my frustration in check. “What does this mean for us?”

“What we thought was a small job is going to be a lot bigger and harder.”

I walk over to the back door and let Bandit out, leaving it open for him. He trots off into the yard, glancing back at me as if to check in, making sure I’m okay.

“Should we get the volunteers involved again?” I ask the question even though I already know what Patrick’s answer will be.

“No,” Patrick says firmly. “We’ve already told them they’re all done. We need to handle this ourselves.”

Running a hand through my hair as I walk into the kitchen, I lean against the edge of the bench top, watching Bandit through the window above the sink. “When did this happen?”

Patrick hesitates, and I can almost see him rubbing the back of his neck, a telltale sign he’s about to admit something he’s not proud of. “We don’t know exactly. No one’s checked on the booms in a few days.”

“Damn it.” I snap, unable to hold back my frustration. “We were so close to being done. And I told you at our last meeting to make sure someone checks on them regularly.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “I know.”

The silence between us is thick. Bandit comes back inside, nudging my leg, sensing something’s wrong. I reach down and scratch behind his ears.

“We need to get out there and assess the damage,” Patrick says finally. “Figure out what we’re dealing with.”

“Yeah,” I reply, my voice tight. “Let’s do that. I’ll meet you there in about an hour.”

We hang up, and I stand there for a moment, staring out at the yard but not really seeing it. The sense of progress we’d been celebrating only last night feels like it’s slipping away, replaced by a new, daunting challenge.

Returning to the bedroom, Blake is sitting up in bed, her back against the headboard, face pinched with worry, her phone in her lap. I lay on the bed beside her, propping my head up with one arm, and for a moment I think she’s overheard my call with Patrick. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No. I heard my phone.” The worried expression doesn’t leave her face.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?”

She tightens her grip on her phone. “I got a message from Reverend Billy. David showed up at one of the shelters last night. He was acting really erratic and mentioned me by name.”

“Just what we need,” I mutter, flipping onto my back and staring up at the ceiling. “What did Reverend Billy say? Is David okay?”

“He didn’t say much else, just that he seemed really agitated and suggesting that I come past.”

I reach out and take her hand, feeling the familiar warmth of her skin against mine. “We’ll figure it out. I’ll come with you to the shelter.”

Her eyes narrow as she studies my face. “You look stressed. What’s going on?”

A somber mood settles over me, and for a few seconds I wish we could just turn back time to last night, when the two of us and Bandit sat in the dunes making plans for the future, and freeze that moment forever.

But we can’t, and so I roll my shoulders, easing the tension that’s settled there, and give her hand a squeeze. “Patrick just called. There’s been a breach. The booms across the wetlandsbroke, and oil leaked in. We thought the end was in sight, but now it looks like we’re dealing with a whole new problem.”

Her eyes widen. “That’s terrible. What are you going to do?”

“Patrick thinks it’s best not to involve the volunteers. We need to handle this ourselves.”

Blake winces. “I’m sorry. I know how hard you’ve been working. That’s a real blow.”

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