Page 26 of No Judgements

Chapter Eleven

Emergency Disaster Survival Kit Basics—Home

First aid kit

Prescription medicines

Painkillers

Mosquito repellant

Watertight, easy-to-carry container to store essential documents such as cash and family records (birth certificates, proof of occupancy, important phone numbers in case your cell phone becomes inoperable, insurance documents, passports, bank and credit account numbers, etc.)

Ireached home just before the heavens burst. I thought about poor Mrs. Hartwell’s party, and hoped they’d managed to save the brisket.

I texted Angela to tell her I’d made it home all right (I hadn’t seen another soul on the street), and asked her to let Mrs. Hartwell know, as well.

Angela texted back that she would, and also let me know that it was a shame I’d left the party early: after the rain started, everyone had moved inside to the dining room, where they’d pushed back the furniture and begun dancing to “Rock You Like a Hurricane” and other storm-related hits.

I figured I could live with the disappointment.

Gary was waiting for me just inside the door, as always. I don’t know how he always knew exactly when it was me coming through the courtyard gate, but somehow, he did, and managed to race from his usual perch at the end of my bed to the front door before I even managed to turn the key.

“Hey, big boy,” I said to him, as he launched a purring assault on my feet. “How have you been? What have you been up to while I was gone?”

The answer was: licked his food bowl clean, dragged every toy from his basket to the middle of the living room, and generally acted like a well-adjusted, well-loved cat.

After I was done texting Angela, I opened another can of food for him (chicken, his favorite, though I had to shred it a little with a fork before serving due to his lack of teeth), while listening to the eleven o’clock update from the storm hunters, which had just come on over the news.

No change in Hurricane Marilyn’s strength or direction, let alone the urgency in the voices of the meteorologists. Anyone in its path was doomed.

I should have known my mother would have been watching the same forecast. My phone rang, and the wordsJudge Justineflashed across the screen. I’d never been able to list her asMomin my contacts. She’d always been Judge Justine.

I felt guilty because it had been so long since I’d last talked to her, and the forecasts were so frightening. She had to be going out of her mind.

“Things can’t get worse, right, big boy?” I asked Gary, whose only reply was a satisfied grunt. He was chowing down on his chicken medley as if he hadn’t eaten in days, when in fact it had been only a couple of hours.

I pressedCall.

“Hi, Mom,” I said.

“So you finally picked up,” rasped the voice enjoyed by millions of daily listeners. “You’d better be on your way out of there!”

“I’m not, Mom.” I slipped off my wedges and hauled a can of sparkling water from the fridge. This was going to be a long conversation. “I’m sure Caleb told you I’m staying put.”

“Sabrina.” How did she manage to inject so much disappointment into so few syllables? “Why? Why on earth would you do something so foolish? That’s not how your father and I raised you. Have you even seen what they’re saying on the news?”

“Yeah, I have, Mom.” I unclipped my bra, slipping it out from beneath my dress and letting it drop to the floor before settling down on the couch. “And I’m going to be fine. Lots of people here aren’t evacuating.”

“Oh,” she said, in her loftiest Judge Justine tone. “And have those people been through Category Five hurricanes before?”

“Mom.” I cracked open my soda. “Give it a rest.”

“I just don’t understand it,” she said. “Explain it to me, Sabrina. A very nice man—a man who wanted to marry you, by the way. That’s right, Caleb told me—offers to come rescue you from a Category Five hurricane in his private jet, and you tell him no?”

“He’s not that nice of a man.” I lifted the remote and changed the channel on the TV. But it was no good. Daniella and I had only basic cable, and storm coverage was on every station except PBS and the ones dedicated to sports and home shopping. And on PBS they were having a fund-raising drive.

“Why are you still blaming Caleb for Kyle’s actions?” Mom demanded.