Meet Me in Barefoot Bay - Roxanne St. Claire Page 0,2

on them.

Once the roof was gone the vacuum dissipated, and, except for the drumbeat of rain on the mattress, it was almost quiet.

“Is this the eye of the storm?” Ashley asked.

Lacey adjusted her position again to curl around Ashley’s slender frame. “I don’t know, honey. Hey, look what I brought you.”

She fished out the unicorn from behind her and laid it on Ashley’s chest. Even in the darkness she could see Ashley smile, her eyes bright with tears.

“Aunt Zoe’s uni. Thank you, Mommy.”

Mommy just about folded her heart in half.

“Shhh.” She stroked Ashley’s hair, trying to be grateful for the rare moment when her daughter didn’t roll her eyes or whip out her cell phone to text a friend. “We’re gonna be fine, angel. I promise.”

But could she keep that promise? When the storm passed, the home her grandfather had christened Blue Horizon House would be little more than a memory sitting on a stretch of pristine beach known as Barefoot Bay.

But Mimosa Key would still be here. Nothing could wipe away this barrier island or the people who called this strip of land home. Like Lacey, most of the residents were the children and grandchildren of the first group of twentieth-century pioneers who’d built a rickety wooden causeway to take them to an island haven in the Gulf of Mexico.

And nothing could rid Mimosa Key of its natural resources, like magical Barefoot Bay with its peach-toned sunsets or the fluffy red flowers that exploded like fireworks every spring, giving the island its name. Nothing could stop the reliable blue moon that sparkled like diamonds on the black velvet Gulf every night.

If Mimosa Key survived, so would Lacey.

And there is such a thing as insurance, a pragmatic voice insisted.

Insurance would cover the value of the house, and she owned the land, so Lacey could rebuild. Maybe this was her chance to finally turn the big old beach cottage into a B and B, a dream she’d nurtured for years, one she’d promised both her grandparents she’d pursue when they’d left her the house and all the land around it.

But life had gotten in the way of that promise. And now she had nothing.

Instead of wallowing in that reality, she let the B and B idea settle over her heart once again, the idea of finally, finally seeing one of her dreams come true carrying her through the rest of the storm while Ashley drifted off into a fitful sleep.

By the time the howling had softened to a low moan and the rain had slowed to a steady drizzle, the first silver threads of dawn were weaving through the air space she’d made. It was time to face the aftermath of the storm. Using all the strength she had left, Lacey managed to push the soaked mattress to the floor.

“Oh my God.” Ashley’s voice cracked with whispered disbelief as she emerged. “It’s all gone.”

Yes, it was. A dilapidated old house that was more trouble than it was ever worth had been washed away by Hurricane Damien’s clean-up campaign. Lacey’s heart was oddly light in the face of the devastation. Buoyed, in fact, with possibilities.

“Don’t worry,” she said, gingerly navigating the debris, peering into the early morning light. “It’s not the end of the world.” It was the beginning.

“How can you say that, Mom? There’s nothing left!”

A few drops of warm tropical rain splattered her face, but Lacey wiped the water from her cheek and stepped over broken wall studs wrapped in shredded, sopping-wet attic insulation.

“We have insurance, Ashley.”

“Mom! Our house is gone!”

“No, the building’s gone. The beach is here. The sun will shine. The palm fronds will grow back.”

Her imagination stirred again, nudged alive by the reality of what she saw around her. She could do this. This land—and the insurance money—could be used to make a dream come true.

Beside her Ashley sniffed, wiping a fresh set of tears. “How can you talk about palm fronds? We don’t even have a—oh!” She dropped to her knees to retrieve a muddy video-game remote. “My Wii!”

“Ashley.” Lacey reached for her, pulling her up to hold her close. “Baby, we have each other. We’re alive, which is pretty much a miracle.”

Ashley just squeezed her eyes shut and nodded, working so hard to be strong and brave.

“I know it hurts, Ashley, but this”—she took the broken remote and pitched it—“is just stuff. We’ll get more, better stuff. What matters is that we’ve made it through and, you know, I’m starting to think this hurricane was