This time the lightning shows a boat in the churning bay. Perhaps not a big boat, perhaps not a boat at all. A glimpse is as much as the night allows.
It keeps Dee at her bedroom window, hand cupped to face, and a robust and a level-headed young woman watching frantic white waves careering ashore, and waiting to be scared. She has done this as a child, nearing thirty she is equally enthralled. Wade, though, curled up on his half of the bed, is stirred when the tumult begins but descends into sleep. She is a light sleeper and he is not, one of many contrasts discovered during their months of living together.
Storms thrills her and the history of this coast is told in storms. They have redefined the bay, shaped villages, and people’s lives. One great storm plucked a hamlet from its rock and pulverized a harbor…
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