“Get this straight. Whatever you’re feeling, what ever I did, whatever you think I did, I would defend you with my last breath, I would die to keep you safe, and I will love you the rest of my life. Turn your back on me and never see me again when this is over, hell, don’t even send a Christmas card, but for the love of God, trust me now!”
He didn’t wait for a reply. She had been too passionate, then too stubborn and distant, for him to expect a response that made sense. It was as if she had suddenly decided that she didn’t trust him.
He was dressed before she was, wearing the swim trunks and T-shirt he’d had on all day. In a few minutes she was dressed as well, a small duffel bag thrown over her shoulder. “I thought you were getting your things?” she said.
“I’m not leaving you,” he told her. “Come on; we’ve got to stop by my place.”
The wind had really picked up, and rain was pelting down. Alex started out, then stepped back, telling him she had macs in the cabinet. They were bright yellow. They certainly wouldn’t be hiding in those, David thought grimly.
When he opened the door again, the wind nearly ripped it from its hinges. “Let’s go!” he shouted. “This thing is coming in really fast.”
They ran along the path. Thankfully, David’s cottage was close. Inside, he didn’t bother dressing, just grabbed fresh clothing and toiletries, then joined Alex again in minutes. They started along the trail toward the lodge. Just as they neared the Tiki Hut and the lagoons, a flash of lightning tore across the sky, almost directly in front of them.
They heard a thunderous boom. Sparks seemed to explode in the sky.
The island went dark, except for the generator-run lights from the lodge.
In the dark, David took her arm. Together, they began to hurry carefully across the lawn to the main lobby, where Jay was waiting for them impatiently.
He led the way through the reception area, the back office and through a door that led down several steps. It wasn’t a storm cellar, since it would be impossible to dig on an island that had been enhanced by man to begin with. Rather, the ground had been built up, so they were actually on a man-made hill.
The storm room was just that—one big room. There were ten cots set up in it, others folded and lined up against a wall, and doors that were labeled “Men” and “Women.” There was a large dining table, surrounded by a number of upholstered chairs, and a counter that separated a kitchen area from the rest of the room. A battery-operated radio sat on the counter.
“Nice,” David commented.
“Very nice,” Hank Adamson said, rising from where he’d been sitting at the foot of one of the cots. “It’s great, actually.”
“If you like being closed in,” Len said, shrugging. It was clear that he had remained only out of deference to Jay. But he offered a weak grin.
“The kitchen is stocked, we’ve got plenty of water, and as you can see, the generator has already kicked in,” Jay said. “The brunt of the storm is due at about 4 or 5 a.m. She’s still moving quickly, which is good. And her winds are at a shade less than a hundred miles an hour, so she’s not a category four or five.”
“With any luck, it will be all over by late tomorrow morning,” Len said.
“And the damage, hopefully, will be minimal,” Jay said. “The trees, though…and the foliage. They always go. No way out of it, we’ll have one hell of a mess.”
“But here we all are,” Hank said cheerfully. “So…what do we do?”
John Seymore had been in one of the plush chairs, reading a book. His back had been to them. He rose. “We can play poker,” he suggested. “Someone saw to it that there are cards, chips, all the makings of a good game. There’s even beer in the refrigerator.” He was speaking to everyone in the room, but he was staring at David.
David assessed him in return. “Poker sounds good to me,” he said.
“Right,” John said. “We can see just who is bluffing whom.”
“Sounds like fun,” Hank Adamson said. “Deal me in.”
Outside, the wind howled. The sound of the rain thundering against the roof was loud, and Jay had turned the volume high on the radio to hear the weather report.
The poker game continued.
It might have been any Friday night men’s crowd—except Alex was playing, too. She liked poker and played fairly well. But in this group…?
They’d set a limit, quarter raises, no more. And yet it seemed that every round the pot got higher and higher.
Neither John nor David ever seemed to fold, or even to check. Between them, they were winning eighty percent of the time. When one of them dealt, there were no wild cards, and it was always five-card stud. Their faces were grim.
Thank God for Len and Jay. As the deal came around to Jay for a second time, he shuffled, calling his game. “Seven cards. One-eyed jacks and bearded kings wild.”
“One-eyed jacks and bearded kings?” John Seymore said, shaking his head.
“What’s wrong with that?” Len asked defensively. “Adds some spark to the game.”
“I think our friends are used to hard-core, macho poker,” Hank Adamson said, grinning at Alex across the table.
“Sounds like a fine game, right, John?” David asked.