The Other Side of Us - By Sarah Mayberry Page 0,15
she scooped, the rushing water replaced what she’d removed with yet more gravel.
She increased her pace, scooping the gravel away with cupped hands, pushing it between her legs like a dog digging a hole. After ten minutes it became painfully clear to her that she was rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic. Not only was the water faster than her, but also she could feel her energy flagging. She glanced over her shoulder and felt a sick jolt of adrenaline at the sight of the water lapping at the second step.
She abandoned the drain and returned to the porch, collecting the broom then wading into the fray. The water was already flowing around the house, rushing down either side, but not nearly fast enough to prevent the rising levels. But perhaps if she encouraged it on its way she could keep the water from invading her home.
Perhaps.
She began pushing the water toward the side of the house with the broom, gloved hands gripping the handle tightly. She worked doggedly, putting all her weight behind each push. Soon her arms were burning and she was panting.
And still the water kept coming.
She paused to catch her breath, despair filling her heart as the rain intensified.
She was going to be flooded. There was no way she could stop it. The best she could do was retreat inside to roll up rugs and move as many valuables as she could off the floor.
She lifted a hand to swipe the water from her face—an utterly useless, pointless gesture, just as all of her efforts had been useless and pointless tonight—then lost her breath as a figure loomed out of the darkness.
Tall and broad, his chestnut hair was plastered to his scalp, his jeans molded to his thighs, his T-shirt to his chest.
Her neighbor, Oliver-the-ass.
He surveyed the situation, then zeroed in on the drain. She started moving forward, intending to tell him that it was no use, that he couldn’t possibly beat the water. But he was already pulling the metal grate free, gravel and all, tossing it to one side to allow the water and gravel to surge into the channel beneath the grate.
He didn’t wait to see if his radical surgery had had the desired effect. He turned to her, jerking his chin toward the house.
“You got another broom?” he yelled over the sound of the wind and rain.
She blinked the rain from her eyes. Tried to get her brain to connect with her mouth. “Yes.”
He plucked the broom from her hands. “Go grab it.”
He was gone before she could say anything more, striding to the side of the house. He swept with long, powerful strokes, pushing water down the side path.
For long seconds Mackenzie simply watched him, dumbfounded, overwhelmed, grateful and terrified all at once. He glanced at her, obviously wondering what she was doing, standing there like an idiot, and for the second time that night she snapped into action.
Her legs felt rubbery, her back was starting to ache, but she spun on her heel and went to find the second broom.
CHAPTER THREE
OLIVER GLANCED TOWARD the sky, willing the weather gods to take it easy with the rain. Apparently they weren’t taking calls right now, because it continued to pound down, relentless and seemingly unending.
He returned to sweeping, pushing water along the side of Mackenzie’s house, the weight of the water and his efforts creating a miniature river. He was aware of her working at the other corner of the house, a small, sodden figure in clinging pajamas. She’d looked terrified and exhausted when he’d arrived twenty minutes ago. As well she might be. He’d been momentarily staggered by the amount of water pouring down her driveway when he left his place.
The street was almost knee-deep, the storm drains clearly overwhelmed by the volume of runoff. The laws of gravity demanded that the water find the lowest point and it had—Mackenzie’s driveway. And, to a lesser extent, his own. He’d already removed the grates on his own channel drains, but one glance at the water rushing toward Mackenzie’s house had told him that her property was in far greater danger.
Lightning cracked overhead, a violent fork that turned the world silver. He spared the sky a glance before refocusing on his efforts, but a few seconds later he felt a tug on his arm.
“We have to go inside,” Mackenzie yelled over the sound of the wind and rain.