A Sea Too Far Read Online Free Page A

boat to a tree, but we can’t get it any higher up this slope.”
    “I think we did pretty well,” Warren said as he wiped rain from his eyes and surveyed their work. “If the water gets this high . . .” He paused and shook his head as if the thought were too difficult to imagine.
    Conchshell whimpered her displeasure at the cold rain, screaming wind and rising water. She released a mournful howl and looked longingly at the house sitting dry and safe on the rise.
    Warm light filtered through the windows, around the closed, imperfectly fitted, wooden shutters, and leaked down toward the beach. Warren took a step in the direction of the porch, anxious to shed his thoroughly saturated clothes, jump in a hot shower and dress in cozy, dry pants and a sweater.
    Suddenly, the interior lights flickered once and went out. The house stood dark and cold in the driving rain. “Come on, Mom,” he called against the wind. “Let’s go inside and light some candles. I’m freezing.”

~4~  
    Rhonda ushered Warren and Conchshell through the back door and leaned with all her weight to close it against the wind. The three collapsed in a heap on the floor of the porch, soaked, chilled, sand crusted and drained of energy.
    The house was cast in darkness although the sun would not set for two more hours.
    Rhonda staggered toward the kitchen and lit a candle with a match. The tiny flickering light barely illuminated the living room. She placed the candle in one of the storm lanterns and covered it with the tall glass shroud. Out of the wind, the flame steadied.
    “Get out of those clothes, honey,” she said to Warren, the fatigue evident in her voice. “Maybe we’ll find a little hot water, but we better not count on it.”
    “Can we call Dad?” Warren asked. “He’s probably worried about us .”
    “We’ll try in a minute,” Rhonda said. “Right now take this lantern upstairs, shower if there’s water, and change into something warm. I’ll dry Conch off. She’s shaking with cold.”
    Conchshell nestled closer to Rhonda at the sound of her name and rubbed against her affectionately.
    Rhonda lit another storm lantern, retrieved a large, fluffy towel from a closet, and began to rub the wet dog vigorously.
    The wind whistled around the house, and the old wooden shutters rattled on their hinges. The windows jangled as the gusts increased in intensity. “It must be blowing more than one hundred miles-per-hour,” Rhonda muttered to herself as she finished drying Conchshell and ran the damp towel through her own wet hair.
    A sudden flash of lightning, followed immediately by an ear-splitting crack of thunder, burst directly above the house. The unexpected flash of illumination and booming noise caused Rhonda to gasp audibly.
    “Mom,” Warren shouted as he raced down the stairs holding the lantern in one hand and his pants in the other. “Are you okay?”
    “That was close,” Rhonda said as she willed herself to regain her composure. Showing strength to Warren was important to keep him from feeling undue concern.
    Conchshell lay on the floor, trembling slightly, and lifted her head to the ceiling. A long howl of apprehension rolled out of her throat, and she began to pant and drool nervously.
    “Why don’t you change out of those wet clothes, Mom,” Warren suggested. “I had a little hot water for a minute. I saved you some before the pressure went away.”
    Rhonda sniffled once and realized her nose had been running. She felt a chill across her neck and shivered as her wet blouse clung to her back. She couldn’t allow herself to feel sick. Warren and Conchshell depended on her.
    “Okay, honey,” Rhonda said. “I’ll be right back. Then maybe we’ll try to fix something for dinner.”
    Warren finished dressing and walked to the rear of the house. Conchshell lifted herself slowly from the floor and trailed beside him. The boy pressed his face to one of the panes in a window and lined up the narrow opening in the