The Eye of the Storm

I

Offshore, Hurricane Ian swirled up the gulf waters. Picking up speed, it inched closer to the Sarasota coastline. The small city hovered in expectation.

The wind whipped around the bungalow. Outside, fierce waves lapped against the bulkhead. Soon, they would breach the wall and creep toward the building.

Sam and Grace Wilmot regretted their decision to remain. They had never experienced a hurricane. Evacuation orders told them to seek refuge elsewhere. However, they stubbornly wished to stay where they were.

"What of it?" Sam questioned, shrugging his shoulders. "It's just a little wind and rain. No problem."

Grace gnawed at her lower lip, considering Sam's decision-making statement. At the time, it felt as though wind and rain would not concern them. They were out-of-towners and did not comprehend the force of the wind or the driving rain.

Airbnb seemed like a good idea. The online advertisement showed a pretty little bungalow surrounded by a tropical landscape. A caged pool and a dock suited the couple's needs. They did not know September was the middle of hurricane season and the worst month for a storm.

For three years, Sam worked from home. At first, the coronavirus pandemic kept him under lockdown. Grace had to close her coffee shop just when her business began to boom. She kept track of the kids' online schooling and assisted with their homework. It dragged them down; they had to get away.

Finally, Grace spied the Airbnb on the internet. The outstandingly cheap price attracted her attention. Without consulting Sam, she grabbed it. When she told him, her husband swiftly agreed. A vacation suited him—he was tired of trying to work and entertain the kids.

Grace's mother tried to talk them out of the trip. Reluctantly, Stella Merkel agreed to take care of her daughter's three children. However, she had a premonition about a hurricane's approach.

"You don't understand how fast these storms come up," Stella argued urgently. "Why don't you wait until March or April? Then you know you are safe."

In March or April, prices will soar, Grace tried to explain. Following the pandemic, they did not have the income they once enjoyed. Sam remained the only breadwinner in the family. She longed to reopen her café, but the money was unavailable.

"The Airbnb was super cheap, mom," Grace responded pleadingly. "We had to grab it while we could. You know how prices go up in Florida during the season."

"There are reasons why it's super cheap in September," Stella briskly countered.

Grace pouted, her upper lip protruding. She always felt her mother picked on her. Her father constantly supported her, but he passed away from covid early in the pandemic.

Sam and Grace kissed their three children goodbye and then departed. Three-year-old Mackenzie clung to her mother's leg. Stella had to pry the little girl's fingers away. The grandmother firmly held the child's hand as her parents approached the airport's boarding gate.

The bungalow shook as a strong gust surrounded it. Terrified, Grace buried her head into Sam's chest. Wrapping his arm around his wife's trembling shoulders, he squeezed her. Outside, a tree rasped against the structure. Thwack, thwack, thwack. Another one hit the stucco wall. Grace's spine stiffened.

Standing, Sam approached the window. He could not see outside. Obstructed by a hurricane shutter, the scene eluded him. In a way, he did not wish to observe the hurricane. However, he fixed his gaze on the boarded-up window and closed his eyes. A tear quivered on his sandy eyelash. He dashed it away before Grace noticed.

"We should have left," Sam admitted, defeated.