Hurricanes in Paradise by Denise Hildreth (best ereader under 100 .TXT) 📗

“He’s flying himself?”

“Yeah, he got his license a few years back. He loves it. But this is stupid. And he doesn’t have experience for this kind of weather.” Laine looked at Riley. She knew her eyes had to be pleading, because her heart sure was. “He will show up, won’t he?”

Riley patted her. Laine could read the concern on her face. Professional pilots didn’t even have the experience for this kind of weather. It was foolish.

“Yes, he will show up. Now come on; get something to eat. Neither you nor Winnie have eaten since this morning.” Riley nodded to the table where Winnie sat with Albert.

They could all hear the storm outside. In the last three hours since they had all the guests accounted for, the winds outside had grown fiercer. The last report had coconuts flying from the trees like missiles and the ocean a mass of white spray. The lights in the ballroom flickered. “Have you seen how she’s been looking at him?” Laine asked as they walked to their table.

“Yes, I’m not sure what’s happened, but I think ol’ Albert has broken Miss Winnie-belle.”

“Miss Winnie what?”

Riley laughed. “Southerners add belle to anything and everything.”

“You are weird people.”

Riley nudged her. “Well, you only wear black. Let’s not talk about weird.”

Laine raised her finger. “Ah . . . last night I did not have on all black.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t remember last night.”

Laine shook her head. “Of course you can’t. The one night I actually wear something that isn’t black or some shade thereof and you can’t remember.” She sat at the table, and before she could speak again, the lights went out. The eerie blackness in front of them made the sounds outside seem even louder. If Laine were to describe it, she’d say the noise reminded her of a wolf howling for its prey. The noises of the darkness were soon drowned out by the guests’ dialogue, which had escalated in pitch and anxiety. It descended rapidly, though, when the generators kicked on and floodlights illuminated what had only moments earlier been encased in black. Apparently hurricanes had a predisposition for black too.

* * *

Riley watched as Christian passed out bottled water. The staff was minimal and so were the guests. He caught her watching him and smiled. She smiled in return and surveyed the rest of the room. Cots were lined up on one side of the room and some guests had already settled in to try to sleep. Tables were lined up on the other side, where some guests planned to eat their way through the storm or entertain themselves until it was over. Some played cards. Others carried on conversations. All attempted to forget what was going on beyond the windowless walls around them. The fact that the ballroom was belowground made all that was going on outside easier to ignore. But some of it still couldn’t be avoided. The main thing they had to be concerned about down here was flooding. And Gerard and his team were making sure that there was no sign of that. So for now everyone was okay. And that was Riley’s main concern.

Christian walked over to where she stood. “You should sit down and get something to eat.”

She hadn’t thought about food for hours. She had for others, but not for herself. Hard to believe it had been only a day. She felt as if she had lived a thousand lives in the past twenty-four hours. Her stomach growled. “Not a bad idea.”

He walked with her to a long table. The buffet dinner that had been provided earlier had been put away. Coolers full of boxed meals now lined the table. She opened the lid of one and picked up a white box labeled Turkey. “Turkey it will be.” Christian handed her a bottle of water, and they sat down.

She unhooked the top of the white box that was fastened like a carton of Chinese food. “Ever been through a hurricane?”

“Can’t say we get many of those in Greece.”

She pulled out a turkey and Swiss sub sandwich, some baked potato chips, and a brownie, then leaned back in her chair. She immediately realized how exhausted she was. He reached his hand across the table and touched her face. “You’re exhausted, Riley.”

She rubbed her eyes. “Yeah, I am.”

“You eat; then you can grab some sleep and I’ll keep watch over everything.”

She sat back up and unwrapped her sandwich. “I’m fine. Honestly, I’ll be fine.” She took a bite.

“You’ll eat, and then you’ll sleep. Honestly, woman, you’re hardheaded.”

She laughed. “Okay, I’ll sleep.” Her smile dropped. She knew it was time. He deserved to hear the truth. She put her sandwich down. “I want to tell you something first.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“I want to tell you my story.”

He smiled softly at her. And that same smile stayed on his face as she relayed every detail of her painful past. She could see at times her own sorrow reflected on his face. But that smile—that genuine, comforting smile—never left it. When she finished, he stood up and walked over to her. He bent down, lifted her chin with his fingers, then kissed her softly, gently.

He leaned back. “Thank you, Riley. Now you will never have to tell me again.”

She couldn’t hide her emotion. “It’s a horrible story, Christian.”

His hand never left her chin. “It is horrible, Riley. And sad. And I’m sorry it is yours. But it’s only part of your story. Don’t ever let yourself think it is the sum of your story. There is much left for you to write. And the Riley that is living now is beautiful.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for sharing it.”

She finished her sandwich while he talked and told her more about his life and his family. They laughed together while Hurricane Kate acted far more unladylike outside than its Southern name would suggest. Before Riley laid her head down, she looked up