The Officer's Girl by Leigh Duncan Read Free Book Online Page B

whispered as they threaded down winding aisles. “This is my wife, Mary. The girls are Barbara and Brenda.”
    “Good to know,” Stephanie said with a chuckle. “And you must be Seminole,” she said to the dog who tagged along at Tom’s heels. “Where are you guys from?”
    “Cocoa Beach,” answered Mary.
    Stephanie’s chuckle became a laugh. “We really are neighbors. I just finished moving in there today. Do you think I should thank the mayor for rolling out the red carpet?” With a sweep of her hand, she indicated the bare patch of floor next to her few boxes. “Definitely not the Ritz. The Marriott, either. But it’s dry.”
    While the girls clung tightly to their parents’ necks, Tom and Mary lingered on the threshold of their temporary home. Profuse thanks were offered and declined, but no one seemed certain what they should do next—no one except Seminole. He followed his nose straight to Stephanie’s sleeping bag where he helped himself to a good long sniff before plopping down on the floor beside it with an audible sigh. His ease made the girls laugh and soon they were toddling around examining their patch of linoleum.
    Stephanie left her newfound friends to embark on a brief scavenger hunt. She returned bearing towels, blankets, hot coffee and juice boxes. While Mary and Seminole watched the girls, she and Tom donned plastic garbage bags turned ponchos—another useful evacuation fashion tip—and raced to unload necessities from the van before the storm worsened. By the time the girls were in their jammies and pallets had been spread across the floor, rain pummeled the roof relentlessly, and the wind blew in powerful gusts.
    Hurricane Arlene was nearing the coast.
    Local weathermen reported a rapid decrease in barometric pressure, and someone turned up the volume on the television sets. A new edginess spread throughout the cafeteria as evacuees realized the hoped-for turn had not occurred. Voices raised. Arguments broke out. Children grew fussier. Rain drummed the roof.
    Stephanie’s headache renewed its steady pounding until all she wanted was to curl up in a ball somewhere. Not an option. Copious amounts of chocolate were her fall back remedy. Grumbling about mothers who always knew best, she unearthed the box Judy had toted from the car. She had no idea why it, intended for the local food bank, was in her trunk, but she was mighty glad to see it. Inside sat her mom’s idea of a housewarming gift—enough graham crackers, chocolate bars, marshmallows and canned fuel to make s’mores for an army. Tom, Mary and the girls joined her, and they set everything up on one of the cafeteria tables.
    The first marshmallow was barely warm before a gawky teen stood at Stephanie’s elbow. Told he needed to contribute something—anything—to the table, he quickly returned with a liter of soda. As soon as he walked away with a plate of s’mores and soft drink in a small cup, the game was on. By the time Stephanie opened the second box of crackers, people were helping themselves to a smorgasbord of treats that littered the long row of tables.
    With her headache in abeyance, Stephanie turned the s’more making over to Tom and another father. It seemed a pity to waste the good mood running through the room so she commandeered likely looking parents and, with Mary’s help, organized several “camp fires.” Soon teenagers sat at one and swapped ghost stories. A pre-school teacher volunteered to lead another group in children’s songs. Other kids played charades. And watchful adults circulated, quietly updating each other on the storm’s status.
    Stephanie was bouncing Barbara—or was it Brenda?—on her lap and singing what had to be the twenty-fifth round of “The Wheels On The Bus,” when word spread that Hurricane Arlene had finally turned her devastating winds away from Florida. Relief swept the room. Fatigue followed closely on its heels, and the party quickly wound down. As she and Mary carted