Stranded in Paradise (15 page)

Carter looked to Stella.

She nodded. “You may close the shutters—but we'll wait another hour or two before the plywood goes up. I keep enough in the garage for just such an event.”

“What about moving to higher ground?” Tess thought about Kula—the town was high atop Maui
.

“Absolutely not!” Stella's chin shot up. “I will not leave my home. We'll wait—see if it's upgraded. I've been through many a warning—some legitimate, some a waste of time and money. We'll wait.” She absently stroked the purring cat's neck.

Tess could not understand Stella's ability to just sit there. Neither Stella nor Carter seemed worried, although she had detected a faint light of concern in Carter's eyes now that the wind had picked up. She wondered if Stella was truly of sound mind or if she and Carter should overrule her wishes and proceed with defensive measures. She looked over at Carter who said, “I'm going to check out that garage—see how well stocked we are. Just in case.” His gaze shifted to Stella. Tess breathed a quiet sigh of relief—at least someone was moving forward.

“Do you need some help?” she whispered.

“No,” he said. “You keep an eye on our hostess. I'll see to things.” He quickly left, and she returned to her stool by the counter.

“So, Stella,” she said. “What did you and Edgar do before you moved to Hawaii?”

“Oh, we lived in Beverly Hills. That's where all the movie people lived. Guess perhaps they still do—” Her voice drifted off.

“Were you and your husband in the film business?”

Stella laughed. “Oh, yes, I was but you wouldn't remember. You're far too young. And they don't show my movies on the late, late, or even very late show anymore.” She chuckled.

Tess turned. “You were a movie star?”

“Oh, my yes. Starred with some of the biggest. Why I—have you seen
Orphans of the Storm?
No,” she mused, “I supposed you wouldn't have—that was 1922.”

1922? That made her what—over 100 years old? Tess was amazed at the woman's memory.

“What about
Three on a Match
—? No, I made that film in 1924.”

“You were a silent film star?” Stella DeMuer suddenly fell into place in Tess's mind. She could picture eccentric Stella in the old melodramatic films with heart-tugging plots.

Stella's bottom lip quivered. “Surely you've seen
Casablanca?
”

Tess grinned. “You were in
Casablanca?
With Bogart and Bergman?”

“Oh yes—and that lovely Paul Henreid. Paul was such a gentleman, you know. Of course, that was later, when speaking parts were in—and truthfully, I had a supporting role in that particular film. Edgar, my husband, was unhappy about the casting, but I seized the opportunity to work with Humphrey and Ingrid,” she confessed.

Humphrey and Ingrid.

“Then of course there was
Anna Christie,
with Greta—”

“Garbo?”

Stella blinked. “Why, yes—is there another Greta?”

“No—there isn't another Greta Garbo.” Tess chuckled.

“The Girl from New York
was my favorite, but then there was
Moonbeam, Jacob and Esau
—I played their conniving mother. I loved the part. Oh, there were a dozen others, names only those interested in movie history would recognize today.”

“Why, you were a movie queen!” Tess said, amazed. She moved to the couch next to Stella and pulled a pillow onto her lap as she drew her feet underneath her. The wind beat against the panes. “I've seen
The Girl from New York.
It's timeless. Was your husband an actor as well?”

Stella blushed at the question. “He was a director in the mid- to late forties. We met on the set of
Moonbeam.
I was just twenty and he was twenty-five. I remember . . .” She paused and looked over at Tess with a faraway gaze in her eyes. “He was talking to the cameraman and, well, there was just something in his eyes. I can't really explain it. He was such a good man. It wasn't long before we were very much in love.”

Tess felt a second twinge of envy. The love shimmering in Stella's eyes when she spoke of her husband, even after so many years, was real. Magic.

“We were married twenty years when he died.” Her features closed momentarily. “I still miss him so much sometimes it's a physical ache.” She dipped her head and blushed and the smile returned.

“I don't know if I'll ever find a love like that,” Tess confessed.

“You have to start with trust—if you don't have that you don't have anything.”

“I haven't been too successful in that arena—”

Carter came back. Water dripped off his rain slicker. “It's wet out there.” Stella pushed out of her seat. “Well, now, it's getting to be our nap time. You two just make yourselves at home.

We'll keep a close eye on the storm.” She picked up Henry. “Come, my love. It's nappies for us.”

When the former movie queen reached the doorway, she suddenly turned. Her eyes softened. “Don't be afraid of life, Tess. Put your trust in Someone who deserves it. God is good; He keeps His promises when no other will.” She turned and disappeared down the long hallway.

Tess gazed at the spot where she had stood.
Put your trust in Someone who deserves it?
For some unknown reason, she wanted to do just that—she wanted to trust, to find someone worthy of trust.

For a moment neither she nor Carter spoke. Then she said cautiously, “Do I look like someone who can't trust? What's with that remark?”

Carter lifted an innocent brow. “A nap doesn't sound like a bad idea.”

12

“The NHC has now upgraded
Alana
to a category two storm.” The TV meteorologist waved his hand over the mass of white on the map behind him as he spoke. Carter sat watching, a warm cup of coffee in hand. “The eye of this dangerous storm is expected to make landfall in the early hours of Saturday morning, the 24th on the island of Oahu. Island residents should be making plans to move to nearby evacuation centers. Remember to take your Disaster Supply Kit. Do not forget to make plans for pets if you must evacuate
. Alana
is a treacherous category two hurricane with winds capable of 96–110 miles per hour.” Carter switched off the TV and clasped his hands together across his knees. Sheets of heavy rain pelted the windows. He needed to find a way to protect Tess and Stella, even if Stella refused to move to the storm shelter. He reached to pick up his Bible, looking for the true Source of wisdom he'd learned to rely on. Tess thought he wasn't scared. Right. With a hurricane forming outside their window.

Lord, if only I were spiritually mature enough to trust You totally in the face of danger. I ask Your shield for Tess and Stella. Grant me the wisdom to do all that I can to protect these two women.

Could he help Tess? She needed more than shelter in a hurricane; she needed protection from a danger far greater, one all men were powerless against without God's help. Yet she seemed unwilling to relinquish that control to anyone but herself. Was he “man” enough to step out of his comfort zone and offer a solution—with God's Word to back it up? Face-to-face witnessing never came easy for him. He'd learned long ago that he couldn't whip a person into submission; the need and desire had to be there to begin with.

Instead, his witness was to build houses for orphaned children and tell them stories about God's love, but the innocent eyes that had looked back at him then were childlike, trusting. Experience had hardened Tess's eyes. Someone somewhere had instilled doubt in her, and he would bet the problem went back to an early age. It troubled him to see a young woman wrestling with life when relief was near and so obtainable. She had such potential, far beyond what she could accomplish at a job.

Carter thought back on his own journey toward God. He had accepted the Lord as Savior after a chain of rebellious years. He'd hit bottom, and he'd hit hard— social drugs, drinking, and wild women. He'd thought life couldn't get any better until he looked in the mirror one day and saw an empty shell of a man. He'd been missing work, losing friends. His life had become a cesspool so dank that he didn't know how to climb his way out. That was when a next-door neighbor had invited him to attend a men's retreat.

At first Carter had laughed. Men's retreat. At the time the event held the same attraction as a Barbie Doll convention.

But for some reason he'd gone. Life had gotten so unbearable, he knew his next step would've been suicide. That weekend he'd ended his restless search. He'd found what every man, woman, and child wanted: significance, security, and acceptance.

Could he share his faith with Tess? How would she react? Would she think he was a religious fanatic—a kook?

He suspected she already did by the looks she gave him when he prayed or picked up his Bible.

Am I not still God?
a voice whispered.

Resting his head on the chair back, he closed his eyes and communed with the still, small voice, ever present.

When he opened his eyes, wind still battered the shutters and tore at the canvas awnings as though they were made of paper. Even with the storm upgrade, Stella had made it clear that she would not leave her home. The beach was the worst place they could sit it out, but Carter didn't intend to leave the old woman alone. He consoled himself that if the house had withstood a category five hurricane then surely it would hold tight in this storm.

The door suddenly flew open and a frenetic Tess appeared in the front hallway. Carter bolted, feet flying upward. Muddy water pooled on her tennis shoes. Her hair was plastered in wet, noodlelike strings to her head. Slamming his hand to his heart, he asked above the thrashing jackhammer of the wind. “What happened to you?”

“I was out on the lanai—this thing is getting worse.” She pointed to the sheets of water running down the window glass. “We've got to do something.”

Closing his Bible, Carter laid it on the table. “Stella isn't going to leave, and I'm not leaving her here alone.”

“Six-foot breakers are battering the shoreline. It won't be long until the roads are impassible.” She brushed past him to approach the window. “I'm scared, Carter. Honestly scared. We could be killed in this thing.”

“We could get killed crossing the street.” Taking her by the arm, he gently drew her away from the frightening sight. “Is Stella awake?”

“I don't know—I don't think so.”

Stella walked into the room, blinking sleep from her eyes. “My, it's nasty out there, isn't it?” she said with her gaze toward the window.

The former movie star was wearing Henry. The cat snoozed, perfectly at ease with Nature's show of fury.

Carter frowned. “Stella, the storm has been upgraded to an F-2 hurricane. We need to do what we can to save the house, and then get to a public shelter.”

“No,” Stella contended. “I told you I won't leave my house.” She smiled. “It's like an old friend; I need to be here to protect it.”

Carter wheeled Stella's old '72 Chevy pickup around the barricade and headed back on 36. “Stella has plenty of plywood and nails for the windows—if it isn't too windy to put them up now. Thank heavens her house is only one story,” he said. “There's an old generator too, but I don't know if it works—it looked awfully old. We'll pick up fresh flashlights and radio batteries and buy an emergency kit—canned goods, that kind of thing. Then we need to find out where we need to go when this thing
really
hits.”

Tess looked out the windshield at the slanting rain. “
If
we can go anywhere.”

He grimaced. “You're right. There's nowhere to run but into the ocean.”

She swallowed back her rising panic as the truck plowed through sheets of standing water.

Wal-Mart was teeming with frantic islanders preparing for destruction. They ran toward the entrance with their hoods and purses held over their heads as if that would keep the pummeling rain from reaching them. Carter parked the Chevy on the last row adjacent to the blue-and-white building and they made a run for the front door.

Once inside, Tess headed for batteries while Carter wandered off in the direction of the snack bar. Tess hurriedly gathered a handful of C, AA, and D batteries then proceeded to a long line where she waited for over half an hour to make the purchase. Her feet hurt, and her hair looked like a wet dog's fur. She'd give a king's ransom for dry underwear.

She heard snatches of anxious inquiries.

“Is the storm still moving in our direction?”

“Has it picked up speed or strength?”

She gazed along the rows of shoppers and saw Carter rolling a cart loaded with a small portable generator and black, heavy plastic sheets. Among the storm paraphernalia, he'd set a tuberose lei. He held two cups of steaming coffee in his hands. Handing one to Tess, he then draped the floral offering around her neck with a smile. “I thought you could use a pick-me-up.”