“Not at six in the morning you’re not,” Dad said. “Get out or I’m calling the police.”
“Dad, wait.” Eureka grabbed his arm the way she used to when she was little. “Don’t call the police. Please come and sit down. There’s something I have to tell you.”
He looked at Eureka’s hand on his arm, then at Ander, then back at Eureka.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Fine. But first we’re making coffee.”
They moved to the kitchen, where Dad lit the gas burner and put on a kettle of water. He spooned black coffee into an old French press. Eureka and Ander sat at the table, arguing with their eyes over who should speak first.
Dad kept glancing at Ander. A disturbed expression fixed on his face. “You look familiar, kid.”
Ander shifted. “We’ve never met.”
While the water heated, Dad stepped closer to the table. He tilted his head, narrowed his eyes at Ander. His voice sounded distant when he said, “How did you say you knew this boy, Reka?”
“He’s my friend.”
“You go to school together?”
“We just … met.” She gave Ander a nervous shrug.
“Your mother said—” Dad’s hands began to shake. He set them firmly on the table to quiet them. “She said someday …”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
The kettle whistled, so Eureka stood to turn off the burner. She poured water into the French press and gathered three mugs from the cupboard. “I think you should sit down, Dad. What we’re about to say might sound strange.”
A soft knock at the front door made all three of them jump. Eureka and Ander shared a glance, then she pushed back her chair and moved toward the door. Ander was right behind her.
“Don’t open the door,” he warned.
“I know who it is.” Eureka recognized the shape of the figure through the frosted glass. She yanked on the stuck doorknob, then unlocked the screen door.
Cat’s eyebrows arched at the sight of Ander standing over Eureka’s shoulder. “Would have gotten here earlier if I’d known there was going to be a sleepover.”
Behind Cat, wild wind shook the huge mossy bough of an oak tree as if it were a twig. A rough blast of water splattered the porch.
Eureka motioned Cat inside and offered to help her out of her raincoat. “We’re making coffee.”
“I can’t stay.” Cat wiped her feet on the mat. “We’re evacuating. My dad’s packing the car right now. We’re driving to stay with Mom’s cousins in Hot Springs. Are you evacuating, too?”
Eureka looked at Ander. “We’re not … We don’t … Maybe.”
“It’s not mandatory yet,” Cat explained, “but the TV said if the rain kept up, evacs might be required later on, and you know my parents—they always have to beat the traffic. Freaking storm came out of nowhere.”
Eureka swallowed a lump in her throat. “I know.”
“Anyway,” Cat said, “I saw your light on and wanted to drop this off before we left.” She held out the kind of wicker basket her mom was always packing for different fund-raisers and charity organizations. It was stuffed with rainbow confetti, the colors bleeding from the rain. “It’s my soul-mending kit: magazines, my mom’s meringues, and”—she lowered her voice and flashed a slender brown bottle at the bottom of the basket—“Maker’s Mark.”
Eureka took the basket, but what she really wanted to hold was Cat. She placed the soul-mending kit at their feet and wrapped her arms around her friend. “Thank you.”
She couldn’t bear to think how long it might be before she saw Cat again. Ander hadn’t mentioned when they’d be coming back.
“Stay for a cup of coffee?”
Eureka fixed Cat’s coffee the way she liked it, using most of Rhoda’s bottle of Irish Cream Coffee-mate. She poured a mug for herself and one for Dad and sprinkled cinnamon on top of both. Then she realized she didn’t know how Ander took his coffee, and it made her feel reckless, as if they’d run off and gotten engaged without knowing each other’s last name. She still didn’t know his last name.