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She’d never be able to thank Sage for his help, but why was he here?
There wasn’t time to figure out his motivations. Today’s focus had to be getting off the island.
Rain pinged off the siding. But the wind was quieter. Not a peep from her mother. That was good. But footsteps clanged on the ladder outside.
Sage would be soaked. She pulled towels out of the dryer and set them next to the door, then started coffee. She stepped out onto the dark porch. No choice, she had to brave the rain.
He was on the ladder in front of the house.
“Do you want breakfast or help?” she called.
His sneakers squeaked as he headed down to grab a shutter. “Could you help with these two sets?”
“Sure.” She hauled shutters up while he set and screwed them in place.
“So much faster with two people.” He installed the last panel. “The only set left is your mother’s room.”
Carolina didn’t want to wake Mamá. “After breakfast.”
They toweled off in the dark porch. The intimacy mocked her.
“Scrambled eggs sound good?” she asked as they stepped into the house.
“Whatever’s fast.” He took her towel and headed to the laundry while she checked her mother’s door—still closed. She pulled out butter, cheese, eggs and bread. Nothing fancy. Just something to fill their stomachs.
When he came back, he asked, “What can I do?”
“Grate cheese?”
“On it.”
She pointed at the cupboard for the grater and he squeezed by her to retrieve it and a bowl.
The morning breakfast dance was a cruel pantomime of what they’d had before. If she’d told Sage who her father was, would they still be together? Or would she have lost him anyway—the only man she’d ever loved?
Sage frowned as he grated a pile of cheese. “Don’t worry. Everything will be okay. I’ll work on securing the carports while you pack.”
“It’s not that.” She closed her eyes, not able to look into his concerned gaze. “It’s you. Us. I wish…”
He ducked his head and pointed. “Is this enough cheese?”
He didn’t want to talk. Fine. “More than enough.”
Wishing wasn’t going to change anything. Going back in time wouldn’t help. She would have made the same choices. Would have kept her mother’s secret. She would have lied and cheated to stop Mamá’s seizures. Taking the globe had been the right thing to do.
While she cooked the eggs, he popped bread in the toaster and set the table.
“Carolina?”
“Mamá.” She handed the spatula to Sage and went to her mother.
“What’s going on?” Her mother stood in the doorway of her makeshift bedroom. She wore a peignoir that covered her from neck to toe. Her gaze darted around the living room. “Why is it so dark?”
“A hurricane is coming. The shutters are on the house.” Carolina took her mother’s hand. “Come have breakfast.”
“Hurricane? No. It’s going to miss us.”
“The path changed again.” Carolina smiled. “It’s okay. We’re going to Savannah.”
“I’m not going to the hospital. Not again.” Her mother’s voice rose to a shout. “I’ll die there. They tried to kill me with all those X-rays and stealing my blood. Every day. Poking me with needles!”
“You’re not going to the hospital.” Carolina helped her walk into the kitchen. “We’re staying at Fitzgerald House.”
“Fitzgerald House?” Mamá settled into a kitchen chair.
Sage set a plate with eggs and toast in front of Mamá. “Good morning, Rosa.”
“Oh, no.” Her mother smoothed her hair. “You didn’t tell me we had guests.”
“I’m helping prep your house for the hurricane.” Sage grabbed the other two filled plates and set one in front of Carolina and one at his spot at the table.
“It’s coming? We’re not ready.” Mamá fluttered her hands. Where will I go?”
“Deep breaths, Mamá.” Carolina didn’t want her stressing out. “We’ve got it handled.”
“I hate living on this island. I should be living in Savannah. In Fitzgerald House. Beau promised.” Mamá took a bit of her eggs. “It should have been me.”
Carolina’s face grew hot.
Sage reached under the table and squeezed her fingers. He mouthed, Don’t worry.
“Well, that’s where we’ll wait out this storm.” Carolina tried to keep her voice matter-of-fact.
“I’ll be a guest?”
“Of course,” Carolina lied. “Eat. We’ve got to pack.”
