The Rest of the Story(109)

“Can you call Roo?” I asked, turning my back to Nana and my dad. “Or Vincent?”

“Everyone’s at the Station,” she wailed. Good God. “Mimi and Oxford boarded up the hotel windows and went to help down there—it always needs a ton of storm prep. So it’s just me and Gordon here, and she was all nervous, so I yelled at her, and now she’s God knows where feeling sorry for herself, even though she is NOT a million years pregnant.”

I heard a beep: another call coming in. Bailey. “Hold on,” I said to Trinity, who was sniffling in my ear. “I’ve got Bailey on the other line.”

“Tell her to get over here and take me to the hospital!” she yelled, loud enough to make my dad, halfway across the room, turn and look at me.

“One sec,” I said in my best measured voice, to compensate for her near hysteria. Then I clicked over. “Bailey?”

At first, all I heard was whooshing. Then, finally, her voice. “Are you downstairs yet?”

“No, they haven’t said anything,” I told her. “I’ve got Trinity on the other line. She’s kind of—”

“Freaking out,” she finished for me. “I know. But she’s not in labor, so there’s no point in trying the roads. One way or another, this will be over by tomorrow.”

Well, that didn’t inspire much confidence. I said, “She’s all alone, though.”

“Gordon is there.”

“She yelled at Gordon.”

“Well, my dad’s yelling at everyone. It’s a storm,” she replied. “Look, the wind is really picking up here: we’ve already got some branches falling. Tell her I said to find Gordon and get to the TV room. They’ve already reported a tornado touching down in Colby.”

“What?” I said, looking back at the TV, where the windbreaker reporter was now literally getting pushed sideways by the wind. “Really?”

“Saylor, wake up. This is a storm. It’s going to be bad.” She cleared her throat. “Look, just get your dad and grandmother and Tracy and get safe, okay? I’ll check back in with you in a bit.”

“What about you, though?” I asked as Nana looked at me. “Are you safe?’

“Safe enough,” she replied. In the background, I heard a male voice, bellowing. “Shit, I better go. Just stay low and away from windows, okay?”

Before I could answer, the line cut off, bouncing me back to Trinity. Who was still crying.

“I just hate this so much,” she said when I told her I was back. “Being alone this whole stupid pregnancy, and now—”

“You’re not alone,” I told her.

“I am literally standing in this room all by myself!” she yelled so loudly I pulled the phone from my ear. “Nobody cares! If this is like Richard, the house will probably come down around me and my unborn child!”

“Emma?” my dad asked. I looked at him. “What’s going on?”

Now Trinity was sobbing, her breath coming in ragged jags. I said, “It’s Trinity. She’s alone and really pregnant and she wants to go to the hospital.”

“Hospital? Now? They’re saying to stay off all the roads for emergency vehicles to get through.”

Trinity, hearing this, wailed even louder. “I know. But she’s so upset, and no one is there to drive her. So she asked if I—”

“You?” Now he gave me his full attention, turning from the TV entirely. “Absolutely not. You’re not leaving this hotel.”

“I know,” I said. More sobbing, louder, and now I felt tears prick my own eyes, I felt so helpless. “But I just—”

He came over, holding out his hand. “Let me talk to her.”

I handed it over. He put it to his own ear, blinked at the sobbing, and then cleared his throat. “Trinity? Hello? This is Emma’s dad, Matthew. You’ve got to calm down, okay? This isn’t good for you or the baby.”

There was a blast of response from the phone, none of which I could make out. He said, “I understand. It’s scary. But the storm will pass and you will be fine. Deep breaths.”

I didn’t hear breathing, though. Just yelling.

“Is there someone who can keep you company?” my dad was saying now. “Sit with you until the storm passes?”

More wailing. Tracy emerged from the bedroom, where she’d been taking a shower. “Um, I just got a tornado warning on my phone. Should we be worried about that?”

I looked at Nana, who said, “According to the hotel, no.”

Outside, there was a crack of lightning, followed by a gust of wind that made the windows creak. “We need to go downstairs,” I said. “Now.”

“Agreed,” my dad said. To Trinity he said, “What? No, we’re just discussing if we should take shelter. I’m going to give you back to Emma—”

He pulled the phone away from his ear as she sobbed, loudly, in response to this. He covered the mouthpiece and looked at me. “Does she really not have anyone there?”

I shook my head. “Just Gordon.”

“Jesus.” He looked out at the lake, which looked mean now, ominous, whitecaps dotting the water, the dark clouds low and thick. “Okay. Look. I’ll get you all downstairs and settled, and then I’ll ride over there.”