Page 11 of The Christmas Fix
Cat stowed her phone in her rain slicker and began scanning neighboring windows for movement. Burrowing deeper into her slicker, she shivered. She could see puffs of her own breath, silvery clouds in the frigid air. The floodwaters were even more dangerous with their Arctic temperatures.
She spotted movement up ahead. Arms waved from the covered porch of a cottage halfway down the block. Cat signaled Stu, and they chugged up the street. A family of four clutching garbage bags and each other waded out to greet them.
A woman, a complete stranger, handed Cat her most precious possession, her baby girl. “Thank you,” the woman whispered through chattering teeth as her husband boosted her aboard. Cat bit her lip and nodded briskly. She handed the baby back and plucked the little boy off his father’s shoulders.
“Hey there, buddy. Ready for a boat ride?”
He grinned up at her, too innocent to understand their circumstances.
“I like boats!” he announced.
Cat offered her hand to the dad and helped haul him into the boat. He picked up his son and put his arm around his wife, pulling her into his side.
“Where we takin’ em?” Stu wanted to know. It was the first full sentence he’d spoken to her.
Shit. When had she become the boss?“Let’s go back to the grocery store. There’s food there, cars. It’ll be easier for everyone to find a ride.”
Stu grunted and gunned the outboard motor.
The little boy clapped his gloved hands as they cruised through muddy water down the ruined street.
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She’d lost count of how many people they’d hauled to safety. Her phone had died hours ago and was left to charge in the truck. Lauren, a natural organizer, had set up a receiving area of sorts for people in the parking lot of the grocery store. The store itself had opened its doors and was grilling hot dogs and hamburgers and handing out bottled water and sports drinks to everyone who was in need. Donations of blankets and socks, dog and cat food, and other necessities were being sorted and distributed.
As if to add insult to injury, the tail end of the storm had stalled over Merry. The winds were calmer now, but the rain fell steadily soaking rescuers and their precious cargo to the bone. It was a deep-down chill that made Cat wonder if she’d ever feel warm again.
They’d all become immune to the rain. Now that the worst had passed, now that their town was underwater, a little rain was the least of their worries.
Cell service was non-existent, which added another jagged layer to the frustration everyone was feeling. Friends and relatives worried about Merry residents were convening in clumps at the edges of the flood waters. Lauren pressed them all into duty, giving everyone a task.
Cat made sure her friend had a sandwich and a chair before shoving off again with Stu.
She waved as they chugged away from the parking lot. They’d teamed up with two other boats and between the three tiny vessels had nearly cleared Mistletoe Avenue and Holly Alley. There were two more homes to clear before they could move on to another street.
CHAPTER SIX
Noah squinted against the wind and the rain and fought to keep the bow of the canoe pointed in the right direction. He’d slogged through eighteen inches of water to meet up with his fire chief who couldn’t verify if any of his crew had made it to Mrs. Pringle’s house. A neighboring town’s search and rescue team was on its way, but with water still rising in the downtown, Noah wasn’t taking any chances.
He’d left Sara in the house with the dozen displaced neighbors they’d opened the doors to. A veritable river separated them from the old high school building that was acting as a shelter. Sara was more than happy to play hostess, and he’d left her making her “famous tuna salad” for their new roommates.
He’d liberated a canoe from the back of a neighbor’s garage and pushed off into the murk and mud. Mrs. Pringle’s home was only five blocks over, an easy walk on a pretty day. However, paddling through debris and current slowed him down considerably.
His hands were white knuckled on the oar as the rain, and cold bit at every gap in his rain jacket and pants. The water was higher and faster on the lower end of town, and he lost valuable time when the current plowed him through a hedge row.
He hoped to God that Mrs. Pringle had been talked into going to a neighbor’s house. But the woman was beyond stubborn. Round and soft, she fit the grandmother type to a tee. Her hair still had more black than silver in it and she always wore a hat to church on Sundays. Her vocabulary was sprinkled with southernisms like “lawd a’ mercy!” Everyone loved her. Hell, Noah adored her, and she doted on Sara as if she was one of her eleven grandbabies. There were always cookies in her house, always a donation ready for whoever knocked on her door selling candles or candy. She was everyone’s granny.
She’d been wheelchair bound for about ten years now. Volunteers from town had gotten together to build the ramp in front of the house she shared with Mr. Pringle. Noah remembered helping. He’d been twenty-two. Fresh out of college and juggling a wife, a new career as a public servant, and his toddler.
He spotted the house coming up on his right. The current was moving fast here, and he wished he’d tracked down someone with a fishing boat. Best case scenario, he’d find that Mrs. Pringle had moved to higher ground to wait out the storm. Worst case scenario? He had no idea how he was going to get a two-hundred-pound—not that he’d ever say that guesstimate to her face—wheelchair-bound woman into a canoe, but he’d figure it out.
Fixing problems was his super power.
Noah lined up the nose of the canoe with the visible part of Mrs. Pringle’s white picket fence gate and paddled hard, his muscles bunching and screaming under the duress. He hit the gate hard enough that it opened and the canoe scraped through, landing with a dull thud against the house.
The impact nearly toppled him into the water, and Noah vowed if he ever attempted a water rescue again, it would be with at the very least a more stable kayak. The front porch itself was underwater, and Noah had to scramble out of the canoe into thigh-deep water to get to the front door. He fastened the canoe’s lead rope to one of Mrs. Pringle’s porch columns and pounded on the front door.
“Mizz Pringle!”
