How could my dad not be home yet? I tried his voicemail again, but the phone kept doing that annoying doo-doo-doo thing and telling me all circuits were busy and to try again later.

  Unfortunately, that was the message for every call I tried to make.

  If I got to the evacuation center at the school, I was going to learn how to drive and ask for a car by the end of the week. Forget about the whole parent at the driving test thing. I’d hire a parent if I had to.

  “Think. Think. Think.” I forced myself to focus. “If Dad’s on his way home, what do I need to do? What does one need to bring on an evacuation?”

  Seriously, school could be doing a better job teaching us life skills. Between this and the management of boys, I thought I could have written a whole new curriculum.

  Clothes, blankets, towels, toiletries, sketch pad. Stuff for dad.

  I’ll admit, I was beginning to panic, but figured I could at least move Mom’s heavier stuff toward the foyer for when Dad got there. Maybe I could even pull some of it up the narrow staircase on my own.

  The sky grew darker by the time I’d gotten all the furniture in the entryway. I collapsed on the overstuffed chair angled toward the banister and started bawling. Around me sat all the objects in the world that carried my mother’s memory and I couldn’t get them to safety alone—I couldn’t even get myself to safety—and I’d finally allowed myself to wonder if my father had forgotten he even had a daughter.

  Over my own stupid sobbing, I heard the engine rev up the drive and shot to the door. Only, it wasn’t a mid-sized Toyota coming my way. It was a dark red, very old pick-up.

  Luke wasn’t even out of the truck before I launched myself at him, the rain mixing with my tears and soaking us both through in less time than it took for him to push me back toward the house.

  “Grab your stuff. We have to get you out of here.”

  He shoved the door shut against the wind and froze, unable to move in the menagerie of furniture.

  “Amy, what’s all the furniture doing in the foyer?”

  I started crying again, that ugly, drastic, hiccupping crying.

  “It was my mom’s.”

  He pushed his hair back and ran his hand across the back of his neck. Glancing up the stairs, taking in the assortment of stuff I’d tried to carry up myself. He checked his watch and said, “Pick three things.”

  Launching myself at Luke Parker while sobbing was beginning to become a habit. But he rubbed my back for a moment and let me sniffle into his T-shirt.

  “Really, Amy. Only three.”

  I pulled away, totally embarrassed that I kept finding myself in Luke’s arms instead of, you know, not.

  It was too overwhelming. But I knew he was right. Three was even more than we really had time for, but picking what stayed and what didn’t was like choosing which memories I got to keep.

  Luke’s hand came to rest on the back of my neck.

  “When you walk in the room every day, where would you picture her?”

  I pointed to the battered chair I’d been curled up in.

  “Okay. We’ll take that one first.”

  Once that was done, we surveyed the hall, Luke beside me not pushing as I caught him glancing out the window toward the river.

  “Amy?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t pick.” I looked up at him, a little desperate. “You pick.”

  “How about we take the oversized chair thing and the other cushion chair thing?” He pointed at the two loveseats. “And hope the stuff that’s wood can be refinished.”

  And just like that I knew my home might not be here when I got back. That the best I could hope for was to be able to refinish the wood. And that Luke and his big truck had already crossed the little wooden bridge once.

  “Let’s go.”

  He looked at me and I realized I was getting used to it. Comfortable with the wordless-searching-look thing he did when he really looked at me—that no matter the misunderstandings and the arguments, he saw me. And being seen had suddenly become a very good thing.

  “Do you have your stuff?”

  I pointed to the two suitcases and the hamper filled with blankets and pillows.

  “I put a tarp in the back of the truck. We’ll throw everything under there and make a run for it.”

  “A run for it?” My voice squeaked the question as I realized things were worse than I thought.

  “The bridge was already sitting in water coming this way. I’m hoping it’s still there. If not, we’ll drive toward the farm and hope that’s far enough from the river to ride it out.”

  “Oh my God, Luke. What are you doing here?”

  That seemed to be the only question that stopped him. He halted, turned back toward me and said, “You were here.”

  And then he was gone, sprinting through the downpour and throwing suitcases in the back. I ran to the kitchen and stuffed as much food as I could into a backpack in case we were stuck in his truck today. And tonight. And until the water went down.

  I climbed in the truck, pushing my wet hair out of my eyes. Luke turned the key and the engine sputtered, a sick sad noise that had my heart stalled out. Closing my eyes, I prayed his rescue hadn’t already morphed into a tragedy.

  “Don’t worry. It’s just damp.”

  Damp. I started laughing. Hysterically. The type of laughter people in the movies get slapped for. We were sitting in three inches of water, a river racing toward us, about to wash away the bridge that might already be gone, and he says the engine is damp.

  Luke Parker, King of the Understatement.

  The truck turned over with a loud roar that slowly subsided into its typical gentle rev. As we made our way down the lane, the trees rode low, slapping water soaked branches against the side of the battered old chariot of a truck. I was so relieved to see the end of the drive that I laughed a little, not knowing how else to let it out.

  Luke turned us onto the road and stopped where the bridge met land. The bed of the bridge was already hidden by water, several inches sloshing over the top. Together, we sat and looked at it, just watching the water rushing by.

  “Ready?”

  I nodded. It wasn’t as though you could get more ready for something like this. Luke threw the truck in gear and reached down to where my hand gripped the seat, threading his fingers between mine.

  I suddenly knew we’d make the bridge, if just for Luke’s sheer stubborn streak. But I closed my eyes and squeezed his hand in mine anyway. The front wheels dipped onto the wood with a cur-thud. The water shoved the front end around, almost forcing us into the railing. Luke pulled his hand back and downshifted, forcing us forward and up the incline on the far side. I glanced over my shoulder. Nothing except the railing peaked out above the water behind us.

  Easing back in the seat, my muscles turned to mush as Luke re-threaded his fingers through mine for the silent ride up the three hills to the school.

  Chapter 24

  To say Luke’s parents were overjoyed to see him walk into the gym carrying both of my suitcases would be yet another understatement.

  There were hugs and tears and some shouting. In the end, his parents were just happy to see us safe, and I could tell his dad was a little proud his son would risk his neck to save a damsel in distress. Having never been a damsel, I wasn’t quite sure of my role in the drama unfurling.

  “Amy! I put a cot at the end for you. And then Rachel said your dad might need one and so we put another one there, but even if he doesn’t get here, you get to be an unofficial Parker this weekend, so it’s like having a sister. How cool is that?” Tom’s breaths came out in little gasps by the time he was finished.

  “That’s very cool. You want to help me unpack?”

  Tom took charge of my hamper, spreading sheets, blankets and pillows and generally making a mess of a small area quicker than the water had covered the bridge. I sat on the extra cot, trying to pay attention to Tom but watching Luke behind him talk with their father. As Mr. Parker continued talking, Luke nodded his head and studied his feet a lot.

  “Finally.” Rachel collapsed on my freshly made cot. “I was getting really worried. Where’s your dad?”

  “I haven’t been able to reach him. Luke’s convinced he doesn’t exist.”

  “Did you try calling him?”

  “Yeah, but you know. Circuits and all.” I searched for my phone in the pile Tom had thrown on the floor. “I left him a note at the house in case he made it home, but I don’t think that’s possible.”

  “Why not?”

  “By the time we got past the bridge, it was completely flooded. We were lucky Luke’s truck is so heavy so it didn’t get pushed into the rails.”

  Rachel perked up at that. Her hand shot out and wrapped around my wrist.

  “Wait. Luke came to get you? Like rescued you from a flood most likely saving your life and perhaps finally winning your heart in the process?”

  I could feel the heat rushing up my neck and over my cheeks.

  “Yeah, he was totally knight in shining armor guy. He even got my mom’s chair upstairs before we left.” I glanced over my shoulder at the Parkers where Mr. Parker was still lecturing Luke. “I think he’s paying for it now.”

  “You totally need to marry him. You can be the two percent of high school relationships that end in successful marriages. It’s too romantic a story to waste.”

  “I’m not marrying him. I’m just not mad at him anymore. There’s still Chris. I haven’t talked to him, and I still need to make sense of everything. You know, the fight and stuff. Luke is a really good friend and he did rescue me and it was really cool, but he’s still Luke.”

  Okay, even I knew most of that was a lie. But, if you can’t lie to your best friend, you certainly can’t lie to yourself. For some reason, no matter how badly Chris had treated me, I had to do the honorable thing and talk to him first. Tell him I wasn’t interested. End whatever we had before being able to make a clean start. Hopefully with Luke.

  “And…” Rachel jerked her head at a spot behind my right shoulder. “More interesting happenings in the land of the soggy.”

  I shifted to glance where she’d motioned toward, wondering what had gotten her attention, thinking it was probably just some teen drama to fill her time while Jared played basketball.

  Unfortunately, the drama unfolding had nothing to do with the overdramatized teen version and everything to do with adults… and Chris.

  Chris stood between his parents, his hand on his mom’s shoulder, body turned as if she needed protection from his dad. Beside him, his mom had lowered her head as her hand made angry stabbing gestures where his dad stood dripping wet with a suitcase in each hand.

  But it wasn’t his parents who drew my attention. It was the younger bottle-blonde woman standing next to Mr. Kent. Before I could pull everything together in my mind, Mr. Kent stormed off, suitcase and blonde in tow, leaving Mrs. Kent to collapse against Chris, her shoulders shaking in quick, snapping shudders.

  I should go over there and see if there’s anything I can do.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Rachel’s hand had already landed on my knee. “That isn’t your deal. You haven’t even met his mother. And, God forbid you be a girlfriend when he needs you, but not when you need him.”

  She had a really great point about not having met his mom. Plus… my gaze slid back to Luke. Luke. Yeah, that was the “plus”. Plus I had no interest in being near any guy but Luke.

  And that was suddenly very okay with me.

  # # #

  An hour later, I still hadn’t heard from my dad.

  I pushed the speed dial, hoping for the best. When nothing went through, I set an auto ring-back and shoved the phone in my pocket. It wasn’t like he’d called me either.

  Early evening came and the parents were treated to a hands-on experience of what the school fed us every day. Good to know that those square, frozen pizzas stayed “fresh” all summer… or not.

  I’d almost forgotten the dial-back and was giving up on seeing him ever again. Maybe he’d notice when I left for college.

  “Amy!” My dad’s voice managed to drown out the entire Parker man-clan. Oh, and the entire Red Cross and displaced Ridge View populace.

  As I scanned the crowd, part of me… okay, a lot of me… feared I wouldn’t recognize him outside our house. Like when you run into someone you kind of know somewhere you’d never expect to see them. How could this person who’d become a stranger be so eager to get to me?

  But, the moment the crowd parted, I knew him.

  He had the same short haircut, with the gray around his temples. The black-rimmed glasses he’d had so long they’d gone out of style and come back in slipped down his nose unnoticed as he rushed toward me.

  A woman grabbed a mop-top child out of his way as he stormed through the gym, his briefcase swinging wildly in step.

  “Amy,” he called again, stepping over Tom and Mr. Parker’s card game. By now, my cloak of invisibility had been completely pierced by his sonic boom. He drew up short, halting before me where I’d risen at his first shout. Had we always seen almost eye to eye?

  I stared at him, this man who had pushed me aside, refused to see me, and drifted away day by day over the last six years until he was nothing more than a stranger wearing my father’s face. His eyes narrowed as he studied me. I held my breath and worried at what he saw. At how much he saw.

  The gym came alive around us again, and I still waited until the silence between us passed uncomfortable and exploded into agonizing. I curled my hands into tight, finger-pinching fists behind my back.

  A warm hand alighted on my shoulder and slid to where my hands clasped at my back. It stabilized me, centered me. I glanced over my shoulder at Luke who hadn’t deserted me in the awkward situation. At that moment, he was even more of a hero than when he’d rushed up the front stairs with a river rising behind him.

  In front of me, my father still stood there, briefcase handle clasped between both hands.

  “I packed you a bag.” I glanced down at the case and wondered if there was anything I could have brought for him he would rather have had. “You know, clothes and stuff.”

  “That’s good.” He nodded. Awkward. Stilted. “Thank you.”

  Behind me, Luke cleared his throat, probably wanting to give me an excuse to let all of us out of the most uncomfortable situation since that time on The Bachelor the guy changed his mind after proposing. I threaded my hand through Luke’s and pulled him around beside me. When he squeezed my fingers, I glanced down and saw we held hands, and that I’d grabbed him and was holding tight. Again.

  I dropped that hand faster than I’d rushed at him earlier when he’d appeared in my drive.

  “Dad, this is Luke Parker.”

  I could see the confusion on my dad’s face. Boyfriend? Friend? General guy?

  “He came and got me. The Parkers saved us two cots with them.”

  The whitening knuckles around the briefcase handle loosened as Dad reached out to shake Luke’s hand. Just like with everyone else, Luke’s manners and laid-back demeanor calmed my dad.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Luke. I look forward to meeting your parents later. But, do you think you could give me and Amy a moment?”

  All the panic of the day washed over me again. I had no idea what my father wanted to say. I wasn’t even sure we knew how to talk to one another any more. I mean, look how well “hello” had gone. Yeah, not so great.

  Luke gave my shoulder a squeeze before he walked away, scooping Tom up and tucking him under an arm as he went.

  I tried to do that waiting thing Luke always does that makes me want to spill my guts, but I didn’t have the knack. I wondered if he practiced it in the mirror. The perfect stance, tilt your head just the right way, quirk your eyebrow but not too much… Just when I was about to give up, my dad dropped his briefcase and hauled me into his arms, clasping me to him till I couldn’t breathe.

  He kept my hand trapped between his after he eased away, a vise grip as if he thought I’d flee. And, to be honest, I might have. I felt hot and itchy, like I was breaking out in hives from some type of allergic reaction to time with my dad.

  He must have realized, or felt the same uncomfortableness, because he released my hand and dropped his head into both of his, shaking it slowly.

  “Amy.” His voice came a little muffled before he raised his gaze to me again. “Dear God, Amy-girl. I came down the last hill and saw the bridge submerged. I thought I’d…” He collapsed onto the cot my sleeping bag covered, groping for my hand and pulling me down beside him. “When I saw the bridge washed out and the water flooding up the hill… and there was no way out to the cottage… and the phone kept saying no lines available. I thought—I thought I’d lost you too. I thought you’d both left me.”

  I looked at him, trying to meet his gaze but realizing he stared at me and through me at the same time. I thought of all those mornings he was gone before I got up and the nights when I’d first laid in bed waiting to hear his car drive up until I learned to sleep in an empty house.

  My hand tingled under his. I didn’t know whether to be happy or upset that it took scaring the snot out of him to maybe get him back.

  Chapter 25

  In the far corner the generator kicked on. The low buzz of the lights was lost under my internal voice screaming that I was an idiot. I rolled on my side and scooted to the edge of my cot till Luke’s face became clear in the dim light.

  With his eyes closed and the hair flopping over his forehead, he looked almost as young as Tom, his perfectionist streak and stubbornness both hidden by the lash-framed lids closed in dreamland. That’s when it finally dawned on me how lucky I was this perfectionist may just be perfect for me.

  I hadn’t realized how badly I’d messed things up until then. I’d seen all the mistakes and moments scattered as little puzzle pieces. But lying there, watching him sleep after he’d braved a flood to rescue me, I learned one of those lessons I’d wished my mom had been around to teach me.