<< Go Back

Through Raging Waters

By Renee Blare

Order Now!

CHAPTER ONE

“Tropical moisture from the Gulf of Mexico is making its way into the Rocky Mountains this weekend. We can expect warm temperatures with lots of rain and thunderstorms as low pressure and instability joins from the west. Buckle down the hatches, folks. It is going to be—”
A high-pitched squeal blasted through the weatherman’s drone. Snaps and crackles of static obliterated the ensuing message, and Melissa Hampton searched the skies. A thunderstorm warning?
Towering billows of dark clouds framed the setting sun as a gray curtain moved across the prairie, barreling toward her like a runaway freight train. Dread inched up her throat, tightening around her windpipe. She sucked in a breath. “Oh, Lord, help us.”
Melissa shut off the useless radio and exited the interstate, shoving the pedal to the floor. The car leapt south. Any comfort to be found in the leather seats escaped her even as the treacherous I-80 faded into the distance.
The headlights flicked on, and she maneuvered her boss’s car along the tight curves outside of Timber Springs. Melissa gasped when she approached the small creek winding its way along the edge of town. Water crested in white caps under the bridge and lapped at the crossing...a new development since leaving for Laramie.
She glanced at the clouds brewing in the west, flinching when another bolt of lightning shot through the sky. This time, a rumble of thunder shook the car, a signal the storm drew closer.
Distracted, the red Timberline Sawmill sign flashed by her and she slammed on the brake. She cranked the wheel. The front end dropped off the shoulder into the ditch. Melissa pressed on the accelerator. Speed and sludge under her tires combined to propel her back onto the dirt road. “Oh, boy…”
The luxury car fishtailed before the anti-lock brakes sent her foot to the floorboard. “Piece of—”
The ring of her cellphone drew her attention to her purse. She grimaced. “Great.”
She struggled with the automatic systems of the Lexus before regaining control and swerving to a stop in the middle of the road. Snatching her phone from between her tiny bag and the seat, Melissa punched a button and brought it to her ear while her chest quivered with the force of her pounding heart. “Timberline, this is Melissa.”
“Where have you been, young lady?”
The cell slipped to her shoulder when Benjamin Jackson Parker’s bark speared her eardrum. Adjusting it, she buried a snort and answered her irate boss. “I’ve been in and out of service. What’s happening with the creek?”
“It’s rising. Heavy rain fell in the mountains this morning, melting a chunk of the snowpack. Steve isn’t happy with the forecast tonight either.” BJ’s frustration echoed over the phone.
Melissa clenched her jaw, her teeth screeching in her head. She didn’t need his temper now. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the church with the crew. The young pup’s a good boy, Missy, don’t get me wrong, but he needs me. I can clear the mess and—”
Static silenced his voice. Mess? What would that be? The roadblocks you created for him at city hall?
Melissa pictured her best friend’s husband amidst the chaos. The area’s game warden, Steve was also the director of the local Emergency Management Team. Forest fires and sporadic rescues occurred all year, but springtime was another story. Runoff sent everyone in the area into a tither. Never one to stand still, Steve Mitchell began preparing for this particular season months ago. Too bad no one else did. In fact, many stood in his way…She stared at the roiling clouds.
“Missy, do you hear me?”
“Who doesn’t?” Melissa muttered, wincing when his voice pierced her ear. “Sorry, boss. I lost you. What’d you say?”
“Get to the church. Now.”
The connection terminated with a click. Melissa tossed the cell on top of her purse and flipped a U-turn. She headed back to the highway. The anxious, angry tone of her employer bounced around in her head and she growled. “I guess you’ll listen to Steve next time, won’t you, BJ?”
At the intersection, a hard right sent her toward town with a spray of gravel. “Everyone will.”
* * *
The parking lot of the New Hope Baptist Church was packed. People rushed everywhere. Steve’s red shirt blazed from his makeshift headquarters all the way across the lot.
Melissa found an empty spot away from the activity, near the fenced playground. After locking her purse in the trunk, she worked through a maze of heavy equipment toward the tent erected on the lawn. She ducked under the canvas and stopped a few feet from the warden. “Hey, Steve, how’s it going?”
Steve’s usual smile was absent. “As good as expected.”
She sidled up to the table with maps smothering its surface. Her lips quirked. “Don’t you know everything about them thar’ hills by now?”
He returned her grin with a small one of his own. “Yeah, I mapped out most of the major trouble spots up here.” He tapped a finger to his head. “But this one helps me target other...more unexpected disasters.”
“How?” Melissa leaned forward.
“See these lines?” Steve pointed to the wavy marks. “That’s elevation. Timber Creek’s headwaters start along the upper tributaries. The runoff hits our baby across the high country, here and here. She gets more water in the lowlands in this area.” He knocked his knuckles on the hard surface. “I’ve been keeping my eye on the snowpack. It’s melting…way too fast because of the rain. But last week’s storm is nothing compared to what’s coming.”
As he’d talked, Melissa’s stomach twisted into a knot. Nausea pushed at her throat. A beeper pierced the air, and she glanced at the parking lot. Two dump trucks, loaded with sand, jockeyed for position. “Steve? Umm…You may need—”
His head jerked up. He studied the ongoing competition for a fraction of an instant before he started running. Melissa clapped a hand on the maps when they began to flutter, her eyes fixed on the lot. A small sigh pushed past her lips when Steve flagged the two drivers down seconds before they pancaked a Prius.
At the same time, BJ Parker stalked out of the church with an irate preacher. Pastor James Fitzgerald boiled…if his face told the tale. It was the color of his shirt—a bright tomato red. His forehead sparkled as the setting sun flashed off beads of sweat.
“What’s your point, Benjamin?” His voice, loud and firm, drifted over the wind. “It’s a building. Use this place for a staging area, fine. But the sandbags are for homes first. The church if any are leftover, understand?”
The pastor’s chest heaved with his last word. His hand reached for the wall. Steve took a step closer and stood at her side, his gaze fixed on his father-in-law. He turned, startling her.
“Missy, I need Paul.” He didn’t wait for her response but marched toward the bickering men.
She swallowed. A quick glance backward revealed her boss supporting Rachel’s father under one arm. Melissa sprinted to the car and raced to the Valley Drug Store.
* * *
Paul Fitzgerald stood behind the elevated counter. He snatched the frames off his temples when they slid down his nose for the fifth time. He glared at the lenses. A soft chuckle came from the corner of the pharmacy bay, and he lifted his head. He squinted at his sister. “What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged and shelved another stock bottle.
He suppressed a smile as her laugh reverberated through the store. He loved to listen to her joy. When their brother Michael, her twin, walked away from the family, he was afraid he’d never hear it again.
Last year, hiring his sister as a new technician was nothing but a pipe dream. And the former high school teacher as his best friend’s wife? He swiped a hand across his face. Maybe in a fraternity nightmare…but not this life.
Steve Mitchell shut him down—hard and fast—when asked about what transpired that snowy day in the mountains with his sister. After repeated attempts to extract information, Steve simply told him to mind his own business. Paul snickered. It must’ve been one amazing moment…for someone.
The front door to the drugstore chimed, and feet pounded the main aisle toward him. He grinned at Rachel and placed his glasses on the counter. Someone must’ve forgotten something important.
After stepping down into the counseling area, he started in surprise when he met the wide, violet eyes of Melissa Hampton. “Missy?”
He rubbed her shoulder as she struggled to catch her breath. “Slow down. What’s wrong?”
She glanced where his sister worked, and he withdrew, his back stiff as a board. “Do you need to talk to Rachel?”
Her teeth worried her lower lip, and she frowned. Melissa shot another look toward the upper level of the pharmacy before leaning close. “Paul, can I speak to you for a minute…in private? Please?”
He studied her for a moment and nodded. He walked around the low counter. “Rach, I’ll be right back. Hold down the fort, okay?”
Rachel’s head popped over the partition wall. Her eyebrows arched high. “Missy, what are you doing here?”
Even though Melissa waved at her friend, her expression remained grim. “I need a second…with your brother.”
He could see the wheels spinning in his sister’s head. He didn’t like her playing matchmaker. “Stay here and answer the phone.” Paul ground out, the acid eating at his throat.
“Sure thing.” Red curls bobbed as Rachel smiled. “Take your time.”
He directed Rachel toward the back of the pharmacy with the wave of a hand and followed Melissa into the compounding lab. They’d taken two steps into the small room when she whirled on him.
“Thanks.” Her singsong voice echoed across the room. “I don’t think Rachel—”
“No problem. What’s up?” Paul stiffened when she brushed her hands down her jeans. He studied the woman before him. For someone who wanted to talk alone, she was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. “You all right?”
She inhaled through her nose, her nostrils flaring. When Melissa raised her chin, her eyes glittered. “I’m fine.”
He settled against the workbench and crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. “That’s questionable. What can I do for you, Missy?”
She stared at him for a moment, and urgency consumed her face. “Steve needs you.”
Paul buried a smile and moved to the other side of the room. He slid a beaker on the shelf above the sink. “He’s been doing this a while now. I think he can handle it.”
A soft touch dusted his arm, and he glanced down. Melissa’s tiny, almost childlike fingers trembled as they rested on the white sleeve of his coat. Somehow, he kept from enveloping them in his own. He lifted his gaze, and his breath caught.
Tears shimmered in her captivating eyes. “Paul,” she whispered. “It’s your father.”

Order Now!

<< Go Back