Mack snapped to attention; his legs were numb. The wind howled like a woman giving birth, but the water wasn’t getting any closer. Mack looked to his right; he was surprised to see Bill still standing there, his lips moving. Reciting poetry. Praying.
“You can’t sell the hotel,” Mack said. “You’ve put your whole life into it.”
“I can start a new life,” Bill said. “Take Therese and move to Hawaii, or Saipan, wherever that is.”
“Bill, you can’t sell the hotel. I won’t let you.”
“You can’t stop me,” Bill said.
“I can stop you,” Mack said.
“How?”
“I can stay.”
Bill nodded slowly.
“Am I right?” Mack said. “Will that stop you?”
“Will you stay?”
“Will that stop you?”
Bill turned to him. “Is it you who’s been writing me letters?” he asked. “Are you S.B.T.?”
“No,” Mack said.
Bill shook his head. “No,” he said. “I didn’t think so.”
“I’ll stay,” Mack said.
“Okay,” Bill said. He shined his flashlight over the parking lot and Mack followed the beam-a Toyota 4-Runner was up to the tops of its tires in sand, and the bikes in the bicycle rack were buried to their handlebars. The wind wasn’t letting up.
Then Mack heard a noise, a voice. The voice. Home. Home. It was the hum, loud and distinct over the scream of the wind. Home. Mack reached for Bill’s arm. “Do you hear that?”
“What?” Bill said.
“That voice. The voice saying ‘Home.’ Do you hear it? Please tell me you hear it. Do you? There-there it is again. Home. Just tell me you hear it.”
Bill climbed over a mound of sand, headed for the safety of his house. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
What woke Mack up first was the smell of coffee, and the promise of light. Mack feared opening his eyes; he didn’t want to be disappointed. Then he heard whispers-giggles, laughing. Mack let himself rise to the surface of his sleep, enough to realize that his back ached, his arms ached, his feet ached. He opened his eyes. Vance and Love stood over him. Vance held two cartons of Hostess doughnuts and Love carried a cardboard tray of coffees.
Mack raised his head an inch. “Is it over?”
“It’s over,” Vance said. “But it’s not pretty. Get up and see for yourself.”
Mack managed to sit up on his own and with a hand from Vance, he stood. Light peeked in around the shutters all over the lobby.
“I can’t believe it,” Mack said. “That looks like sun.”
“Maybe you’d better wait a while before you look outside,” Vance said. “I’ll give you a hint. I had to park the Datsun a quarter-mile up North Beach Road.”
“We walked over the sand,” Love said. “Thanks to my cross-country skiing experience, I got the coffee here without spilling a drop.”
Vance threw his arm around Love’s neck and kissed her. “That’s my girl.”
Mack thought of Maribel. Suddenly, more than his body ached. “Anybody seen Jem?” he asked hopefully. “Or my Jeep?”
Vance and Love shook their heads; Love looked at the ground.
“Have some coffee,” Vance said. He handed Mack a cup. “Were you up all night?”
“Just about,” Mack said. “Do we have power?”
“Not yet,” Vance said.
“We evacuated all the guests,” Mack said. “The fire trucks took everyone to the high school. I didn’t want to leave the hotel.”
“You’re so loyal,” Love said.
“He’s crazy,” Vance said. “You sure you’re ready to go outside? Brace yourself, man. I’m warning you.”
“I’m ready,” Mack said. “It was pretty bad last night.”
“Let’s go,” Vance said. “I want to see your face.”
Mack and Vance walked out the side door. What struck Mack first was this: it was a beautiful day. The heat and humidity of the previous weeks were gone. It was crisp, and the sky was a brilliant, spectacular blue.
The Beach Club looked like the Sahara Desert. The sand in the parking lot was chest high in places. The front porch of the lobby where Bill and Mack stood the night before was buried-there were drifts of sand halfway up the lobby doors. The pavilion was entirely buried, with the exception of the peaked roof, which stuck out-a head with no body. The beach was strewn with seaweed, dead seagulls, rocks.
The hotel was still standing, although the decks were buried under sand. Mack and Vance walked around and entered the back door of each room. All the front deck rooms had saturated carpets-Mack’s shoes squished as he walked. The bottoms of the bedskirts were wet, some of the dressers had water marks.
“If we take up all the carpets and cut a big hole in the floor, we might drain these rooms someday,” Vance said.
“The carpet definitely has to be replaced,” Mack said. “That’ll be a big job.”
“I’ll bet you’re glad you’re leaving,” Vance said. “You picked the right time to get out.”
Mack didn’t say anything.
He headed down to room 7. Clarissa Ford stood in the back doorway, smoking.
“You survived,” Mack said. “How’s your room?”
“Demolished,” she said. She lowered her eyes. “I spent all night in the bathtub.” Mack looked into room 7. Clarissa had piled all her clothes on top of the bed, but they were soaked. The lamps had shattered, the TV set was smashed, the leather chair ruined.
“Oh, God,” Mack said. “It’s amazing you lived.”
Clarissa exhaled a stream of smoke. “I’ll pay for it all, needless to say. I wonder if Therese will let me help her redecorate. Then when I come back next September it will really feel like home.”
“Don’t count on it,” Mack said. “Anyway, what’s important is that you’re safe. It was quite a night.”
“Oh, darling,” Clarissa said. “I was part of it.”
Mack nudged Vance’s elbow before they reached the back door of the lobby. “Listen, will you call my house? If Jem’s there, tell him to get his ass down here.”
“I can’t believe what you did yesterday,” Vance said. “You gave her away, man. Why the hell did you do that?”
“I have my reasons,” Mack said. He rubbed his hands over Vance’s shaved head. “Will you call for me, man?”
Vance swatted Mack’s hands away. “I’ll call as long as you stop touching me. I don’t love you, you know, Petersen.”
“I know,” Mack said. “Thanks.”
When Mack walked around front, a school bus pulled up on North Beach Road and the hotel guests disembarked: Mrs. Frammer, Mr. Sikahama, Mr. Williams in his bathrobe. They climbed over the dunes toward the lobby. Therese, with Cecily’s windbreaker zipped up to her throat, crawled toward Mack wearily, a soldier returning from war. She shielded her eyes from the sun.
“How was it?” Mack asked.
“Did Cecily call?” Therese said.
He hated the desperate note in her voice. She’d only been away eight hours. “Not that I know of. The phones were down all night.”
“I was thinking if she watched the news or anything…” She dug her toe in the sand. “Our kingdom is destroyed. I thought maybe if she knew that, she’d call.”
“Not destroyed, Therese. We were lucky. Only room seven is gone. The rest of the front deck rooms have carpet damage and some other minor stuff. Vance is going over them with the Shop Vac. They’ll be okay for the guests by this afternoon.”
Therese squinted. “Really?”
“Not great, but okay.”
“Not ruined?”
“Not ruined.”
“The guests can sit on the beach until then. We ate breakfast at the school. Have you seen Bill?”