Free Tidewater Inn by Colleen Coble Page B

to any tough situation might be. Too often she reacted without thinking. She fingered the beads. What would Jesus do about this place? How was she supposed to know?

E IGHT
    N icole waited in vain for rescue as the wind rose through the afternoon. When the wind had first started to freshen, she was sure someone would be along any minute. But the hurricane was upon her. And she had nowhere to go for safety.
    She peered through the single window of the shack. The sea was much too rough for anyone to come now. She was on her own. She opened the door. The sky was downright scary with black clouds blocking the sun. Tossing waves that left her breathless with fear crowded the shack. The flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder were terrifying, but not as frightening as the thought of drowning. If she didn’t get higher, she was going to die. The surge was already swirling around her feet. The best she could do with her food and water was put it on the cot, but she feared it would soon be underwater.
    She swiped the rivulets of water from her eyes and clung to the door as she stared at the small island. Through the driving storm, she could see a lone palm tree, but the wind had nearly bent it double. No sense in climbing that. More surges of water would be coming through. She had to get on top of the shack. It was her only hope. The sides of the building were rough-sawn boards, but there was a small window ledge that might help her climb. She grabbed hold of the top window frame and hoisted herself up, planting one bare foot on the window ledge. The wind buffeted her back to the ground, and she splashed face-first into the seawater. She came up spitting salt and sand.
    Maybe around back she would be protected from the wind enough to climb. Sloshing through the flood, she hurried to the rear. A plastic five-gallon bucket floated in the water. She upended it, then stepped on its bottom and managed to grasp the low roof. As she hauled herself up, the wind hit her again, driving stinging water into her face.
    She wasn’t going to survive this. Pushing the thought away, she swung one leg onto the roof. She got the other leg up too and lay gasping on the splintered surface with the wind trying to dislodge her. She forced her fingers and toes into every crevice she could find, but it took every bit of strength she possessed to stay atop the shack.
    She pressed her face into the shingles and held on. If she fell again, she didn’t think she would have the strength to climb, or to survive the night in the water.

    Tidewater Inn seemed to shrug off the effects of the wind, though the storm howled mightily in rage at the way the inn withstood its power. Libby huddled under an afghan on the armchair in the parlor. Mr. McEwan seemed oblivious to the danger as he sat drinking his coffee and eating Delilah’s fresh-baked cookies. The roar outside made her shudder. Where was Nicole in all this? Libby could only hope and pray she was all right.
    Delilah flipped off the television. “The rain has messed up the satellite signal,” she said. “Would you like some cookies, Libby?”
    â€œNo thanks.”
    â€œI’m always hungry when I’m nervous.” Delilah headed toward the kitchen.
    Libby rose and paced the Oriental rug that covered the oak floor. Please, God, don’t let Nicole be in any danger from this storm. Let us find her alive and unharmed .
    A thunderous pounding came on the front door. She rushed to answer it. Alec stumbled in with a deluge of rain and wet, salty wind. Libby caught a glimpse over his shoulder of the stormy sky and ocean. Scary. Alec was supporting a wizened old man. Zach was behind him with an older lady almost as round as she was tall.
    Alec slammed the door behind them. “I have two more guests for you. I hope that’s still all right.”
    â€œOf course. We have plenty of empty rooms. Let me fetch some towels.” She raced to the laundry room and grabbed a