Brenna held her cell phone away from her ear and hit the speaker button while her papa let out a string on angry words that cleared the static coming over the wireless. “I’m with Nick at Fleur House. I don’t think I can make it back to town.” “Of course you can’t make it,” Papa said, his words rolling together like the big waves hitting the seawall down below the house. “Da roads are washed out, de big bridge is sitting in wader. Why on earth did you think it’d be smart to go out to dat house tonight of all nights?” Brenna could hear him even with the sound of the storm raging through the house. “I wanted Nick to come back to town with me, but he refused. I can’t leave him out here all alone, Papa.” Her papa didn’t agree with that decision. “Of course you can’t, ’cause you’re just that stubborn and impulsive, Daughter Number Three. Let me talk to da man.” “He wants to speak to you.”
