Small-Town Bachelor

His experience with disaster relief provided the perfect excuse. There would be too much work for the local builders to complete by themselves. He’d make calls to find the best construction crews in the surrounding counties and help get the rebuilding efforts started. But as soon as the doctor cleared him, Reed was hightailing it back to Chicago.

Chapter Two (#ulink_b9d38dd7-5e38-5594-ba90-b2924bef5b07)

Exhaustion turned her legs to sandbags. As soon as she left Reed’s room, Claire returned to the hospital’s main waiting area and craned her neck to spot her dad. Assured Reed would be okay, she wanted nothing more than to go home and make sure the otters were safe. She’d go on foot if necessary.

“Oh, honey, you’re fortunate you survived.” Aunt Sally’s bleach-blond hair bounced and her disco-ball earrings bobbed like fishing lures on the lake. “I don’t know how either of you made it out without more severe injuries. Joe called. He said the restaurant is a wreck. The dining hall’s intact, but the back rooms are destroyed. I’m so glad you’re okay.” She embraced Claire again. “You’re going to fall over if you don’t park it.”

“Where’s Dad?” Claire hugged her arms into her abdomen. “I’ve got to get home.”

“I’ll find him. You sit.”

Claire collapsed in the chair. Her other family members clutched foam coffee cups and chatted in clusters, filling the space. To see Tommy, Bryan, Sam, Libby and everyone else alive and healthy after the awful night—it humbled her. Thank You, Lord, for protecting everyone I love.

“Your face looks terrible.” Libby took the chair next to Claire. Her long blond hair hadn’t been brushed, and her eyes were red rimmed from crying. “Aren’t you supposed to have this ice pack on it?”

“It’s nothing. I’m more worried about you. How are you holding up?” Claire accepted the ice pack from Libby and pressed it to her cheek, flinching when the cold stung her bruise. “I’m sorry about the wedding. We’ll get it all planned and perfect again.”

“I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Me too.”

“When I think about the restaurant and everything ruined... We should be at the church right now.” A stream of tears gushed down Libby’s cheeks, and Claire pulled her close, rubbing her back. Jake came over and took Libby in his arms. Claire shot him a grateful smile, struck at the similarities between him and Reed. Both hovered around six feet tall and shared a muscular build. Libby took a tissue from Aunt Sally while Jake checked his watch.

“Man, I feel so bad for Reed.” Jake sighed. “He gets into town and this happens. And he was supposed to leave for Alaska right after the wedding. Claire, thanks again for taking care of him.”

“Don’t feel bad. It wasn’t your fault. And it was the least I could do after Reed saved my life. If he hadn’t protected me, I would have been the one crushed under the tree. Or worse.” She shuddered. “I think I have him talked into staying in Granddad’s cottage until he’s recovered a bit.”

“Good idea! And thank the good Lord he showed up when he did.” Aunt Sally clapped her hands to get the room’s attention. “It’s been a long night and an even longer morning. Why don’t you all take a break at my house for a few hours? A lot of cake will go to waste if we don’t start eating it.”

“The wedding cake?” Libby paled. “I can’t eat that! It’s supposed to be—”

“It’s food.” Aunt Sally wrapped her arm around Libby. “We’ll make another when you get a new wedding date.”

Libby swallowed and nodded, walking with Sally to the door as the groups dispersed.

Tommy, Bryan and Sam approached Claire. “Come on, you can ride with us.”

“Still no word on the otters?” She nibbled the corner of her lower lip. “Have you called Dad lately? Is the road clear?”

Tommy swiped his hand over his eyebrow. “The otters are fine—”

“How do you know?” Her voice rose. Maybe Tommy checked on them. “Did you get through?”

“No, but—”

“Don’t patronize me, Tommy. I’m responsible for them until they move to the zoo. And I’m having a hard enough time thinking about them leaving next month. If they were hurt or worse—”

“Stop. I got it.” Tommy extended his palms out in defense and widened his eyes at Bryan, who held a cell phone against his ear. “Well?”

Bryan slid the phone back into his pocket. “Didn’t answer.” He glanced at the elevator. “Oh, that’s why.”

Dad strode to them and patted Claire’s shoulder. “The crews have most of your road clear, Claire-bear. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Claire-bear. Dad musthave been worried sick last night. He hadn’t used his pet name for her in years.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Ten minutes later, Dad drove the back roads to the lake. It was turning out to be a beautiful, sunny day, but branches and trees littered the ground. Half a mile from town, a partially destroyed building with a caved-in roof spilled insulation out the missing side wall.

Damaged roofs, pole barns stripped to their frames, rubble-covered sidewalks, furniture strewn through the streets, cars flipped over in yards—everywhere Claire looked there was devastation.

“Whoa,” she said. “Is it like this all over?”

Dad slowed to avoid a set of patio cushions. “One side of Main Street is unrecognizable. The twister took out several roofs in the new subdivision and ripped up trees on a warpath to the restaurant, but it curved away from there. That’s what I’m being told, at least.”

She hoped he was right. Lake Endwell was a small community. Claire biked everywhere, including the quaint downtown, the veterinary clinic, the church and her father’s house. Most of Lake Endwell was within two miles of her home. She drove to volunteer at the zoo, though. The thirty-minute commute gave her time to think.

They neared her road, a narrow paved lane winding down to the lake. Large sections of newly cut tree trunks had been rolled to the shoulder. Dad’s truck drove over smaller branches and leaves. Claire held her breath. Other than a flipped boat and some minor oddities, there didn’t seem to be any severe damage. She leaned forward.

Granddad’s huge old cabin rose proudly against the sparkling turquoise lake. Over sixty years old, the cabin with its hunter-green siding, white trim and white wraparound decks still impressed. A spacious, welcoming vacation spot—she never tired of gazing at it from her porch next door. A driveway and lawn separated their properties. What she wouldn’t give to wave to Granddad each morning, the way she had done when he was alive. Even when he became wheelchair bound, he lived in this beautiful home. The family made it completely handicap accessible so he could wake up to his view of the lake every morning. After he died, it became the go-to place for any out-of-town guests.

Claire’s smaller, butter-yellow cottage came into view. Still standing. She let out the breath she’d been holding. The window boxes Dad had built last year spilled pink and purple petunias, giving it the homey air she adored. He cut the engine, and, muscles protesting, she shot out of her seat. The sun warmed her face as she raced to the back fence, fumbled with the handle and charged into the backyard, stopping short.

What a mess.

The winds had wreaked havoc back here. The entire forest seemed to have fallen on her lawn, and her two lounge chairs had disappeared. The patio umbrella dangled upside down against the corner of the fence.

No signs of the otters. Her heart dropped to her stomach.

She would not panic.

They were here. They had to be here.

She ran to the cellar, hoping, praying. Down the slippery, damp concrete steps, into the cool darkness. She waited for her eyes to adjust. Her gut clenched. Please...

There. In the corner, Hansel and Gretel slept, all curled around each other. Quietly, she went to them, softly petting each to confirm they were alive. Hansel lifted his head, his nose high in the air, and yawned before tucking back under Gretel’s body. Their distinctive musk brought tears to Claire’s eyes.

“Well, hello to you too.” She grinned, straightening. “I can see the storm didn’t bother either of you.”

A loud noise brought her back up the cellar steps. The small pond would need to be cleared of leaves and sticks, but she could safely leave the otters alone. Shading her eyes, she looked up—Dad had already found the ladder, climbed to her roof and was pounding loose shingles back in place.

“This will only take a minute, Claire. You don’t want these flapping off in the next storm. Why don’t you go in and grab something to eat? Or better yet, go to bed.”

Her stomach growled. How long had it been since she last ate?

At the welcome sight of her living room, her sanctuary, her knees almost buckled. She’d sit a minute. Just a minute.

Unable to fight her sheer lack of energy, she sank into the couch. A million worries raced. Although the wedding made Claire wary, she sympathized with Libby. It would be terrible to come so close only to have a tornado destroy the plans. Claire would bring her some flowers and brownies and let her cry on her shoulder for half the night if need be. She would be there for Libby, the way she always was and always would be.