Chapter Thirty-Two

Josef

Come outside, Josef.

Josef sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his gaze drawn to the rattling window.

Josssefff, the wind whistled.

He slowly rose on shaky legs, his callouses aching when bare feet met the hard floor. What did the wind want? The elements never woke him when he was sleeping.

He moved across the floor as fast as his old bones would carry him. When he unlatched the window, it flew out of his grip. Josef raised his hands, commanding the wind to shift and stopping the glass from shattering against the side of the house.

"What do you want?" Josef called.

A ssstorm is coming.

"A storm? What storm?"

A great fury. Many will perishhh.

Josef's mouth went dry. "How many?" he rasped.

Thousssands.

He ran a tongue over his cracked lips, summoning the courage to speak. When the wind foretold the future, it always came to pass. "Thousands? That is no ordinary storm."

Wind, rain, and flooding. The island shhhall be submerged, the wind whistled. Hurricane.

Josef's limbs iced over with fear. A hurricane was coming to Galveston? "When?" he asked timidly, cringing as he awaited the wind's response.

Tomorrow nexxxt.

"Tomorrow next! Oh, heaven help the people of Galveston."

* * *

Josef

JOSEF SAT AT MRS. JENKENS'Skitchen table, his hand shaking as he lifted the coffee cup to his lips. He took a tentative sip of the hot liquid, grimacing as he swallowed sugary syrup.

Mrs. Jenkens nervously fidgeted with her napkin. "Are you sure, Josef?"

He tried not to slosh the steaming liquid as he lowered his cup to the saucer. "Sí. I am sure. I am never wrong about such things."

Her brows rose as she looked out the kitchen window, squinting at the horizon. "When will it hit?"

"Saturday."

She gasped, splaying a hand across her chest. "That only gives me one day to prepare. How bad will it be?"

Josef heaved a weary sigh. "All of Galveston will be underwater."

"All of Galveston?" She arched back, clucking her tongue. "Surely, you exaggerate."

His shoulders fell. "I wish I was."

Mrs. Jenkens waved her hands wildly in the air. "And what will happen to my house?"

"It will be no more." Josef looked around the room with a heavy heart. He'd spent many afternoons chatting with Mrs. Jenkens in her kitchen. Though she was prone to gossip, she was one of the few people on the island who didn't treat him like he was loco. She'd always taken his advice to heart, and she thanked him with homemade jams and pies. He felt bad for her, but not as bad as he felt for the rest of the city, for he knew none of them would heed his warnings.

"Where am I to go?" She nearly toppled the chair as she pushed away from the table. "What am I to do?"

Her panicked outburst sent a shiver down his spine, but it would do no good to let her see his fear. "You can come to my home and wait out the storm. My grandsons will help you bring your things."

"And your house will be safer?" she screeched. "You said the whole island will be underwater."

Josef tapped his fingers on the counter as he thoughtfully eyed Mrs. Jenkens. "You forget I am an earth speaker. The elements will spare my house. I will make sure of it."

She rolled her head with an exaggerated movement. "Surely I cannot fit all my furniture in your house."

He rose and gazed out the window. As the noonday sun warmed the waters, children frolicked in the surf, blissfully unaware of the calamity that was about to befall them. "No, but you shall live to see another day, which is more than I can say for the others."

* * *

Abby

I GRUMBLED AS I TREKKEDtoward Lydia's house, trying to replay in my mind what I was to say to my friend. Oh, how I dreaded Lydia's reaction. Then again, if Lydia was any friend at all, surely she'd understand. It would've been so much easier to have just rung Lydia, but her parents didn't have a telephone. Besides, this type of delicate matter required a face-to-face explanation. My plan was to break the news to Lydia first, then Irene, and when I finally called on Charlotte, I would have had enough practice explaining myself that hopefully, Charlotte would believe me.

My feet felt like deadweights as I marched up the steps to Lydia's two-story home. No sooner had I reached the top step than Lydia was walking out the front door, tying her bonnet strings.

She looked at me and broke into a wide grin that nearly split her thin face in two. "Oh, isn't this a stroke of good luck? I was just on my way to your house to discuss some party details." She backed up and held open the door. "Won't you come in?"

I was almost as thin as Lydia and had plenty of room to get by her, but I stood rooted to the spot, wishing so badly I could turn and run back home.

Lydia stood on the threshold, holding the door and gaping at me. "Abby? Are you coming?"

I exhaled a shaky breath, trying to expel nervous tension. Pulling back my shoulders, I marched forward, looking at Lydia as I ducked under her arm. "I'm afraid I haven't come for pleasantries. I bring dire news."

I took a seat on a narrow sofa in her parlor. Though the room was even smaller than my Nana's parlor, it had a big bay window, giving the room an open feel. I frowned when I imagined the storm shattering the glass all over Lydia's mother's fine furniture.

Deep lines marred Lydia's brow as she sat beside me. "What is it?"

I turned to her but was unable to utter a word. My throat had suddenly gone as dry as dust. I coughed into my hand in an effort to clear it.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Lydia giggled, before excusing herself.

After a few moments, she was back with iced tea and a cloth-covered basket. I prayed Lydia's mother's shortbread biscuits sprinkled with sugar were in the basket, for it may be the last chance I would ever get to eat them. After Lydia prepared my tea just how I liked it, with two teaspoons of sugar, I relished the feeling of the cool, sweet liquid soothing my parched throat. Much to my delight, Lydia placed two biscuits on my plate before she sat in the opposite chair. I bit into one and moaned as the buttery concoction melted on my tongue.

Lydia gave me an expectant look. "Well, Abby? Spit it out."

I set the cookie down and took a deep breath before speaking on a rush of air. "A hurricane is coming to Galveston."

Lydia's wan face colored. "What?"

"My Nana's friend, Se?or Cortez, has predicted it." I turned up my chin, daring Lydia to contradict me. "Nana says he's never wrong about such things."

Lydia smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt. "Oh? And when is this hurricane to hit?"

"This Saturday," I blurted.

Lydia warily eyed me. "So I suppose you must cancel the party."

"Oh, yes," I said, mentally berating myself for sounding too eager, "and I must also ask your family and Irene's family to move to higher ground," I said in the most even tone I could muster. "Perhaps you can stay at Charlotte's house until the storm blows over."

Lydia crossed her arms, her foot tapping out a grating staccato on the wood floor. "And where will you be?"

"Nana and I will be staying at Se?or Cortez's house. Nana is already packing our things."

Lydia crossed her arms, scowling. "And you expect me to believe this hogwash?"

"Yes, Lydia," I said on a sigh. "I know it sounds inconceivable, but it's true. This Saturday Galveston will be hit with a hurricane so fierce, the entire city will be underwater."

Lydia shot from her seat, bearing down on me with a scowl. "Either Se?or Cortez is crazy, or you're lying."

I vehemently shook my head. "Neither, Lydia, I swear."

"You know what I think?" Lydia hovered over me, wagging a finger in my face. "I think you planned this all along. You wanted to ruin Charlotte's party."

I repressed a strangled cry. "That's not true."

Lydia's face flushed as red as an overripe apple while she shook her finger harder. "You've been horrible to her ever since she married Teddy."

Sadly, Lydia's words were true. I had hardly been a kind friend to Charlotte since the wedding. I couldn't deny it, and I wasn't proud of my behavior, either. But if only Lydia could understand how sorry I was and how very much I cared for Charlotte.

I swallowed hard, doing my best to quell the shaking in my limbs. "I am not denying that I've been a terrible friend, but I swear on my mama and papa's graves...." I held up a finger and drew an X across my heart. "I'm not lying."

"Poor Charlotte." Lydia's voice turned shrill as she jabbed my chest. "She's been nothing but kind to you, and this is how you act in return."

I pushed Lydia's hand away. "Please, just hear me out."

Lydia straightened her shoulders, dropping her hands. "I've heard enough. You can show yourself out." Then she turned on her heel and marched upstairs.

I hung my head and groaned. I had no idea what to do. I thought about chasing Lydia up the stairs but feared it would only make the situation worse. I decided the best option was to leave and pray the morning paper mentioned the approaching storm. If not, all of Galveston, including my friends, could perish.