Authors: Jessica Matthews
T
HIS WAS NOT A DRILL
.
From the moment Dana Ivie had arrived at the Corpus Christi airport this morning at 5:00 a.m. with the rest of the Courage Bay volunteers—Nate Kellison, Cheryl Tierney and Dr. Amy Sherwood—she’d noticed a sense of nervous expectation hovering in the humid Texas air. At first, she’d thought that was just because the four of them had volunteered for something they’d never before experienced, but Chief Mitch Kannon had also seemed restless during their half-hour drive to Turning Point.
The feeling only grew as she listened to his quick orientation and took in her surroundings. She’d never been to Texas before, but so far, the scene was nothing like she’d imagined. The sky was strangely gray, the tree branches bent and swayed as the wind speed rose a notch, and an occasional raindrop pinged against the van’s windshield as dark, rippled clouds gathered overhead.
This, as the saying went, was the real deal.
From the moment she’d volunteered, she’d known she was heading into a storm that would surpass anything she’d ever encountered in her life. A firm believer of being prepared, she’d spent her last few hours in Courage Bay listening to countless weather updates, watching the Weather Channel’s program on hurricanes and reading everything she could find
about them. Yet, on some level in her mind, coming to Turning Point had simply seemed like an elaborate and unique emergency training scenario.
She hoped that Chief Kannon’s 8:00 a.m. briefing would be enough to bring her up to speed. She’d come to be a help, not a hindrance, and she’d do whatever it took to pull her own weight. After all, she was representing not only Courage Bay’s firefighters, but female firefighters everywhere.
As she surveyed the local volunteers assembling inside the Turning Point Fire Department’s conference room for the scheduled meeting, she noticed the same sense of edginess lying underneath the too-wide smiles and forced laughter.
Obviously those who’d lived through this before weren’t immune to the emotional pressure, either. Having experienced her own share of disasters in Courage Bay, she would have to be a fool not to feel the strain of the unknown. And if she added the fact that these people were bracing themselves for a disaster that was completely unavoidable unless a miracle kept Damon at sea, it was understandable that tensions ran high.
Oh, everyone was trying to hide their worry from each other, and on the surface, they did. But even those more optimistic souls who talked of cattle prices and what the much-needed rainfall would do for their thirsty crops couldn’t disguise their interest in the large clock positioned to the right of the white board.
Thanks to the U.S. Weather Service’s sophisticated technological resources, meteorologists had projected the time of Hurricane Damon making landfall, and now the Turning Point Emergency Services—and everyone else in this corner of the state—were counting down.
By her calculations, they were at T-16 point five hours.
Sixteen hours could seem like days, or minutes, depend
ing on what needed to be crammed into that time frame. From the chief’s lists, written in various colors on both the board and paper charts taped to the cinderblock walls, a lot remained to be done.
Too antsy to sit, Dana meandered toward the row of coffee urns and refilled her cup, glad that the brew was as strong as what she was accustomed to drinking. In the early days of her firefighting career, she hadn’t liked coffee that could hold up a spoon and had diluted hers until she finally grew tired of the hassle. Now she drank it full-strength and preferred it that way.
Cheryl, the trauma nurse on loan from Courage Bay’s emergency department, approached the far end of the long table and eyed the home-baked cinnamon rolls that Mitch’s daughter, Jolene, had thoughtfully provided.
“Those look good,” Cheryl said wistfully.
“Have one.”
“I did. Two, in fact.”
Dana grinned. “So who’s counting?”
“I am.” She patted her trim abdomen. “I’m already one over my limit.”
“Yeah, but this might be your only chance to eat.”
“Somehow, I doubt it.” Cheryl craned her neck to glance around the room. “Have you seen Nate or Amy?”
“Nate’s in the corner.” Wearing his blue Courage Bay uniform, Nate stood out in this sea of cotton shirts and blue jeans. “I haven’t seen Amy for a while. I think she’s checking out the supplies for the triage area.”
“Ah.” Cheryl paused. “Are you having second thoughts about being in the middle of a hurricane?”
Dana grinned. “Yes and no. I’m glad I came and I’d do it again, but without a frame of reference, I’m human enough to wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.”
“Me, too.”
“As for being in the middle, technically, we’re not,” Dana pointed out. “We’re forty miles inland, so we’re only on the fringe.”
Cheryl motioned dismissively. “Semantics.”
Dana grinned. “I know. We’re definitely closer than we were twenty-four hours ago.” It was a sobering thought.
“What did your family think about you volunteering?”
“Considering I have more family than most,” Dana said dryly, “they’re split between being proud of me and thinking I’m crazy.”
Cheryl nodded. “It can be tough having one set of parents, much less two.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Dana replied fervently. She wasn’t surprised that Cheryl knew her history. The news of switched babies and separated twins had been plastered all over the Courage Bay newspaper last year. Almost everyone in the small city had heard the story of Lauren being raised by the Conways while Dana had grown up under the guidance of Helen and Tim Ivie, instead of their birth parents, Gloria and Cleveland Barclay.
Now, although the Conways were deceased, three separate families had become intertwined into one.
“The moms wish I’d stayed at home,” she added ruefully, “My dads think it’s great.” Cleve Barclay, who was a cop and a paramedic, and her schoolteacher father, Tim Ivie, who’d raised her not to let her sex stop her from pursuing her goals, both respected and applauded her decision. Gloria and Helen had been aghast and had made her promise to call them often.
“What about Lauren and Alex?” Cheryl asked.
She recalled Alex’s last-minute visit at the airport and the discussion that had followed.
“They understand my decision,” she said simply, suspect
ing that they understood more than she thought. “A disaster is a disaster, no matter what causes it.”
Cheryl nodded. “How true.” She paused. “Did you ever wonder why hurricanes aren’t something we see in Courage Bay?”
“It has to do with the water temperature and currents,” Dana said. “Now, mind you, I’m quoting a source, but apparently the water along the east coast flows from south to north, so the water temperature reaches the required eighty degrees needed to produce a tropical storm. The water on the
west
coast flows in the opposite direction, which means cooler water temperatures and no hurricanes.”
“That makes sense. I’m impressed you knew that.”
Dana laughed. “Don’t be. I crammed before I came. I also thought California suffered the most in terms of earthquakes and natural disasters, but did you know that the worst disaster in the U.S. was caused by a hurricane in Galveston in 1900?”
“Thanks for telling me that now, rather than before I came,” Cheryl remarked dryly. “I might have changed my mind.” She glanced around the room. “We have quite a crowd arriving. I’ve already met so many people, I’ll never remember their names.”
“I’m sure they won’t hold it against you,” Dana assured her with a smile. Prompted by Cheryl’s comment, she picked out the folks she recognized. Nate and Cheryl, of course. Near the front stood Bill Sommers, the portly city manager; Mitch Kannon, the stout, fiftyish fire chief; Jolene Kannon-Angel, Mitch’s pregnant widowed daughter who was filling in for Ruth somebody-or-other, the fire department’s secretary, office manager and dispatcher, until she arrived. Then, of course, there were several ranchers and business owners present, but like Cheryl, Dana didn’t remember their names.
In the latest group of newcomers, one in particular stood out. At five feet nine, Dana noticed when someone topped her by three or four inches, but it wasn’t just the man’s height that caught her eye. He radiated a confidence that reminded her so much of Alex Shields. He, too, could stride into a room and lighten everyone’s mood with his mere presence.
She watched and listened as people clapped him on the back and called out greetings. Micky. Micky Flynn was his name, she learned. It certainly fit.
He had short, thick black hair and a face that boasted nature’s best features. After directing a salute and a smile to Mitch’s daughter, Jolene, he turned and met Dana’s gaze with what she decided were gorgeous bedroom eyes.
Instantly heat arced between them, a heat that literally curled her toes in her sturdy boots. And when he slowly perused her from head to toe with the gleam of a man on the prowl, she didn’t have to check his ring finger to know that he wasn’t married. After working with men of all kinds these past ten years, she could pick the footloose fellows out of a lineup and be right ninety percent of the time.
Micky Flynn definitely fell in that category.
From the interest in his blue eyes, he plainly considered her fresh meat. It wouldn’t be the first time that some guy decided to hit on her because of the uniform she wore, but right now, it was nice knowing that she’d attracted a handsome fellow’s interest.
Before she could return his wide smile, Mitch announced that the briefing was about to begin.
Micky Flynn flashed another megawatt grin in Dana’s direction, and in that split second, she knew that she wasn’t ready for games. Not now. Not before a hurricane, and certainly not while thoughts about her future swirled around her like the clouds overhead. Her life was complicated enough
without adding a short-term fling to the mix, even if he was the handsomest guy she’d seen in ages.
Besides, she’d had enough of being one of a crowd, being the odd man out. She wanted to find a place, a relationship she could call her own with someone who would gaze at her like Alex gazed at Lauren.
Determined to let the Texan know that she wasn’t interested, she turned her back toward him and listened to Mitch speak. He had just finished introducing the Courage Bay crew and was reviewing procedure when Cheryl tugged on Dana’s arm and motioned across the room.
“I wonder what Jolene’s doing?”
Dana turned to see Jolene with a med kit in her arms, heading for the door. Chief Kannon had also noticed his daughter’s activity and interrupted the meeting to go speak to her, a determined expression on his face.
Just then, Nate followed Jolene and Kannon from the room. Minutes later, the older man reappeared and headed to the podium once again.
“Nate and Jolene must be going on a call,” Dana guessed.
Cheryl grunted her agreement, while Dana wished that
she’d
been chosen to go. Waiting was not her strong suit.
Mitch held up his hands to quiet the volunteers, who had started to talk among themselves. “All right, y’all, let’s get down to business….”
“By way of reminder, the wind is going to get a helluva lot worse before it gets better, so if you’re outside, be prepared for flying debris. Wear your helmets. We can’t afford for anyone to get a concussion, or worse.
“Some of the low-lying areas are flooding, so be ready for water rescues. A few of the people affected have already come to town, but Harvey Hollister and several of his neighbors refuse to budge.”
“It’ll take more than a flooded road to get Harvey off his land,” someone said from the back of the room.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Mitch said. “If any of you are headed in his direction, try to talk some sense into him before it gets so bad that we can’t get him out even if he wants to go.”
“How are we set for snake antivenom?” someone else asked. “Flooding always flushes ’em out.”
“We have a decent supply, but I’d rather y’all not need it in the first place. If you do, or have any other medical emergency, we’ve set our triage area in this building. We’re fortunate to have a doctor and a nurse on loan from Courage Bay, as well as an EMT. As soon as our paramedic returns, who, by the way, left to help deliver Lily Browning’s baby, he’ll be available, too.”
“What’s the road situation?” one of the ranchers asked.
“We’ve had reports of flooding out west, but those are country roads and not on the evac route. People traveling through town should be fine if they stick to the main highways.”
Dana listened to the conversation, but in spite of its sobering nature, she felt a familiar rush of energy surging through her. She’d never watch the television news coverage of hurricanes again without remembering this exact moment and how she, an adrenaline-junkie firefighter, had felt when…
Suddenly a dark-haired woman in her midforties approached Kannon with a scrap of paper. Although Dana hadn’t met her, she’d heard Mitch mention that his dispatcher would be late because she and her teenage sons had to secure their own ranch before they came to town. From the gentle smile Mitch gave her, she decided two things. First, this woman must be Ruth, who acted as secretary, office manager and dispatcher rolled into one. Second, it was quite possible that Mitch had a soft spot in his heart for her.
More important, though, Dana sensed an opportunity to get in the field. She straightened in her metal folding chair and waited for him to scan the note.
His response came a second later when he announced, “There’s been an injury accident west of town.”
Impatient for action, Dana shot her hand up in the air. It didn’t matter what the situation was; this was the moment she’d been waiting for ever since she’d arrived in Turning Point a few hours ago. She was half jealous of Nate for already having an assignment, but his paramedic training gave him a rightful edge. As an EMT, she could handle the basics of prehospital care and had delivered a few babies herself, but his advanced skills allowed him to work more independently than she could in case of an emergency. If baby or mom ran into any difficulties, Nate would be better equipped to handle the situation than she would.