Second Chance Sweethearts. Kristen Ethridge

like Felipe. I knew they had drugs in the car. I knew something was going on. What I didn’t know was that they had a guy with a gun in the trunk who was going to pop out and start shooting.” He paused, then looked at her, but his brown eyes were blank. “Felipe was my partner. My best friend.”

      Gloria felt her heart drain, as if she’d been shot point-blank in the chest. “No. He was my partner. My best friend. My husband. And now he’s gone.”

      She couldn’t control herself. She buried her head in her hands. She would not cry in front of Rigo. “The memories in this house are all I have.”

      Tanna laid on the couch and gave a soft moan that jarred Gloria out of the argument and out of the past. “Five minutes. I’m going out to start the truck while you pack and gather what you’ll need for the birth. Then we’ve got to go. I’m not about to leave you here so you can drown and go join him.”

      Rigo walked back out in the rain, and Gloria took in one more panoramic view of the main area of the 1930s-era house she and Felipe had loved so much and bought and spent countless hours updating and renovating.

      Even years after that terrible night when everything changed, Gloria had never had enough heart to change Mateo’s nursery. So everything had remained neat as a pin, and more or less just how it had been the last time Felipe walked out the door to go on patrol and Gloria had gone out to get a quick check from her OB because her kick counts were off.

      Gloria looked out the little window again and saw that her street was now best described as a river. Rigo wasn’t exaggerating about the situation getting more dire by the minute. The water covered the front yard and would most likely continue to rise, then be creeping under the front door sooner rather than later. And when that happened, her orderly little house and orderly little life—the one she managed so tightly and fiercely because the alternative was too much to bear—would change tonight. And just thinking about it made an indescribable heaviness fill her chest, like thick cement reaching slowly to all corners of a mold.

      Tanna exhaled deeply from her spot on the couch. “I knew I’d be nervous when labor finally got here. I just never imagined I’d be this nervous.”

      “Well, Tanna, there’s a lot going on. It’s understandable that you’re scared. But I’m here and I’m not leaving your side and we’ll get through this together.” Gloria knew she couldn’t show Tanna her own burden about leaving this house and the memories she’d shared here. Tanna had enough worries of her own today.

      “Lie down while I gather my things. I’ll check your dilation and other vitals as soon as we get to Inez’s house. You’re going to do great, Mama. Babies have been born in all kinds of conditions, and the vast majority of them throughout history haven’t had electricity, either. Your body knows exactly what to do, and it’s telling us that it’s almost there.”

      Gloria opened the door to the storage closet in the hall where she kept the suitcases and pulled one out along with the plastic storage bin of birth supplies she kept packed at all times. Everything she needed—even shots of Pitocin in case of bleeding and a small tank of oxygen for mom or baby—was inside.

      She made herself keep going, pulling a few shirts and shorts and pairs of sturdy shoes out of the closet. She grabbed a pair of pajamas and carefully folded them on top of the stack. Then she went into the bathroom and filled her toiletries bag with a few overnight essentials.

      Gloria decided to walk through the house to see if there was anything else she needed to bring. As she passed by her desk, she reached in the drawer and grabbed the folder that Felipe had always kept their important papers in. From the bookshelf, she grabbed her own Bible and the family Bible, given to her by her abuela in Mexico. Gloria walked robot-like through each room of the house, not seeing much, until she stepped into the small blue room and stopped. She hardly ever came in this room. Most weeks, she just ran the vacuum across the carpet as quickly as possible.

      Some weeks, she still had to stop the vacuum in the hall.

      The rocking chair she’d planned to rock her own baby in had never moved from the corner. Without realizing what she was doing, Gloria crossed the room, sat in the chair and started rocking.

      She picked up the oversize light brown teddy bear from the floor next to the chair and cradled it in her arms, the same way she’d been able to hold Mateo after he’d been stillborn—just the one time, with his eyes closed and no butterfly whispers of baby breaths in his lungs.

      Fire pushed into her throat and collected like lava. Hot, slick, overpowering. The memories burned her mind and her soul.

      This room was the last connection she had to her son who had died before he’d ever had a chance to live. Her darling baby. The only baby she would ever have.

      What if she woke up tomorrow and this room was gone?

      What if she woke up tomorrow and the last place she could feel Mateo’s presence and see Felipe’s labor of love in every stroke of paint on these walls...what if it was all gone?

      Gloria hugged the teddy bear fiercely, then leaned over and bit the stuffed ear tightly to muffle the sobs that she couldn’t muster the fight to keep inside.

      Tanna waddled into the doorway. “Whose room is this?”

      A cottony feeling choked Gloria’s throat and she tried to wipe the tears off her cheeks with the bear’s ear. “It belonged to my son, Mateo.”

      “Did he evacuate already?”

      Gloria lifted her eyes. “I guess you could say that. He’s in Heaven.” She struggled to hold her emotions inside. Tanna had her own journey to motherhood today. She didn’t need to know the details of the birth of Gloria’s son.

      Gloria rose from the chair, walked a few steps and climbed on a nearby box, stretching her arms as far as she could to tuck the bear on the top shelf of the narrow closet.

      “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Tanna frowned and looked around the perfectly arranged room, so clearly at odds with a baby being gone for years. “I just came to tell you that Rigo says we have to go.”

       Chapter Three

      Rigo considered Gloria and Tanna one more rescue in a long line of them he’d be doing for another couple of hours. The 9-1-1 switchboard was overrun tonight with people who thought they’d throw bravado in the face of Hurricane Hope, then found her might thrown right back at them with wind-whipped fury. He got the two ladies dropped off safely at Tía Inez’s house and then got right back in his truck and out on the streets to do what he could.

      He didn’t like that there were still people on the island, and he didn’t know how much longer they’d be able to rescue stranded citizens. At some point, those in charge would call off the rescues because they would start to endanger those conducting them.

      But until that call was made, the Provident Island Beach Patrol team was on the front line. As seasoned lifeguards and water-rescue professionals, they were deferred to by even the high-ranking members of the police and sheriff’s departments at times like these.

      Still, eight people couldn’t save the world.

      But they’d keep trying until they were told to stop.

      Conditions around the island were deteriorating rapidly. As he tried to decide where to head next, he looked in the distance to the lights on inside the Grand Provident Hotel, where city officials had set up their command center. As he watched, the lights flickered, blinked twice, then all went out, taking the streetlights and the rest of the electricity with them.

      His radio popped once more with static. The command center would be running on generator power now, and like the radio’s reception, it was spotty. Rigo could barely make out the words. “Attention all units. The power grid is now down.” The whole island was now in darkness, just awaiting the full wrath of Hope. “You