Page 67 of The Summer House
Twenty-Three
They were forcedto stay on the bypass when they came across the bridge from the mainland, having only gained access by proving they were permanent residents. Portions of Beach Road had crumbled into the ocean. The water had receded mostly back into the sea, leaving puddles and pockets of flooding in the residential areas. They carried on, hoping they would have solid road all the way to Waves. The car was silent as they drove past the damage.
“I’ll take you home first,” Luke said quietly, both hands gripping the wheel intently. A power line dipped into the road beside them as he pulled to a stop to yield to any traffic, the stoplights out. He looked both ways, but unless it was by boat, no one would be coming from either direction, as the side street was flooded. He carried on. “It’s bad up this way,” he said. But he didn’t say anything more. Callie wondered if it would be this bad in Waves.
All of a sudden, Luke pulled over. “There’s a tree blocking the road over there and that car can’t get down it.”
Callie saw the driver. He’d exited his car and was pulling with all his might on the trunk of the tree, trying to move it. It would budge just a little and he’d lose grip. There were kids in the back of his car.
“Stay put. I’m going to help him,” Luke said.
Before she or Frederick could say anything, he jumped out and ran down the street. Frederick went out after him, leaving Callie. She could see them talking to the man as he gestured toward one of the cottages. Then the three men strained and pulled until the tree had shifted. All three of them got on one side of it and in a unified effort, moved it to the side of the road. The man shook Luke’s hand.
“They rode out the storm,” he said, slightly winded, when he got back. “His wife is pregnant and on bed-rest. He was worried about the tree blocking their way if they needed to get to the hospital. She’s due any day. They thought the storm would’ve brought on labor, but they were lucky.”
Callie shook her head, the enormity of the situation overwhelming her to the point of speechlessness. Luke and Frederick got back into the car and there was a hushed anticipation as they made their way home.
The further down the road they went, the more hopeful Callie became, the storm having spared parts of the Outer Banks. The road was cracked in places, making it difficult for Luke to maneuver the large vehicle without hitting major dips, but he was a skilled driver and he made it through. Every time she saw some damage, Callie’s heart sank, but she knew she couldn’t expect the storm to have skipped over her part of the barrier islands completely.
They passed a cottage that was missing part of its front porch and a bit of the roof on the left side. An elderly woman was standing alone in the yard, struggling with a load of bags. Callie shot Luke an apprehensive look. He slowed the car.
“Do you think she’s okay?” he asked.
Callie shook her head. “No, we should help her.”
He glanced over at her. “But you need to check your own house.”
“Getting there sooner won’t change anything.” It was quite obvious that people around them were struggling and she felt compelled to help after hearing about the man and his wife that Luke had helped.
He pulled the car over and got out, taking his phone from his back pocket. “Let me just text Juliette, and let her know.”
The woman, who was carrying bags of debris in her tiny arms, stopped and watched them advance toward her. By the look on her face, and the growing roundness of her eyes, she recognized Luke.
“Hello,” he said as he approached her. “Luke Sullivan.”
She looked around and set the bags down beside her. Probably trying to decide if she was on some sort of hidden camera show.
“Do you need help with anything?”
The woman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, relief on her face. “Yes!” she said, throwing her hand to her chest, her voice almost giddy. “I live alone and I’m trying to move all that.” She pointed to a pile of debris by the porch.
“Well, we’ve got it from here. What’s your name?”
“Paula.”
“Hi, Paula. This is Callie and Frederick. Put us to work.” Luke picked up the bags for her. “Where do these go?”
“Just to the street,” she said, meeting their eyes with a grateful smile. “I was making a pile until I can find my trashcan or get a new one. It was blown away in the storm.”
Luke placed the bags at the street and joined Callie and Frederick as they walked toward the house, Paula leading them to the other pile of boards and wreckage. “Does all this need to be bagged up?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m just piling what will fit it into the bags. Be careful, because the wood is full of nails.” Then she stopped and looked directly at Luke. “Thank you,” she said with sincerity in her voice. “I’ll be inside working on the damaged roof. Just let yourselves in if you need anything.” She hovered briefly, still clearly in shock at their gesture, but then, once they’d gotten to work, she headed inside.
Carefully, they put what they could into the bags and piled the rest in a more orderly mound. As Paula had warned, every piece was jagged, torn, full of nails and sharp splintering wood, so they labored slowly. Luke was all business, not stopping once to make eye contact, and Callie wished, despite the task at hand, that he’d give her even one small gesture to let her know that he didn’t hate her, but it never came.
As they worked, Callie kept hearing a distant sound above the crashing of the ocean, but she couldn’t make it out until, all of a sudden, she stopped. “Do you hear that?” she said.
Luke and Frederick slowed to a halt and stood still. The static sound of the ocean filled the air.
