Chapter Two

Her work storm-proofing her house finally complete and another shower taken, she was left at loose ends once again. She called her closest neighbors and made sure their homes were ready. Everything seemed to be in order. No crisis and not even a little errand to keep her busy. There was always something they needed. How could they not need her help at all?

A little while later, her friend Cristina called to yell at her for not flying up to Atlanta to "party and do kick ass surgeries" for the weekend. She knew that Cristina had known already that she wouldn't leave, but she loved her for trying to cheer her up anyway. The monotony and foreboding and lack of busyness were making her a crazy person. Crazier than she ever wanted to admit to being. Rattled, frazzled, frustrated, and a little desperate-not qualities any self-respecting surgeon would admit ever applied to her.

Sighing and needing to take any kind of action just to have something to do, she picked an object up off the coffee table. Fifteen minutes later, having skimmed through her latest medical journal, she sat on the sofa twiddling her thumbs.

It wasn't as if she didn't have more of a life than this. Yes, the life of a surgeon was confined and constrained by the demands of the work and its hours. But she had outlets other than running. Sadly, aside from her work helping out downtown, all of those things—the walks on the beach, watching the sunset with her neighbors and friends, teaching first aid and CPR to the lifeguards, they all revolved around the beach.

And with the wind already whipping around and the storm clouds finally visible on the horizon, the beach was no longer a kind and safe place to be. So she was stuck indoors with nothing to distract her. TV was not an option. She didn't watch TV—not even that Grant's Anatomy show that everyone at the hospital buzzed about. Her TV was just a visual distraction on the bookshelf across the room. Something else that collected dust. Something for others who visited who were accustomed to that sort of thing. Cristina watched her TV more than she did. TV was out. Books weren't any more promising at the moment. She didn't have a good book on hand that she hadn't already read several times—lately she didn't often have the energy to read after working all day.

Determined to find something to do, she dialed a familiar number. When he answered, she grunted "Anything yet?" He chuckled a bit before responding, "Not yet, Mer. It's still early."

"I know. I just...," she started to try to explain. He didn't need the explanation. And he knew she didn't want to admit how stressed out she really was.

"Storms make us all antsy. We've patrolled and prepared until there's nothing left for us to do either. You're welcome to come down here, but I'm afraid that the guys are just as bored and rattled as you are."

"No thanks," she said, realizing that what he said was true. They were all people who did things. Not having something to do was like a death sentence. The last thing she needed in that moment was to be around more people who were as bored and in need of something to do as she was.

"Hey," he continued, lowering his voice so that others around couldn't hear. "Don't sound so blue. Want me to come over? I bet I could distract you...find a few steamy ways to cheer you up..."

She laughed in spite of herself, "You never stop trying, do you?"

"For you? Never," he said, his voice still light, but his honesty not quite covered up completely.

"I'd better pass," she said, trying to sound more lighthearted than she was, "You have important things to do. Besides, you'd never recover from a good dose of me. I can guarantee that you're not man enough for that. And I can't leave the sheriff paralyzed in the face of a town emergency."

"You are so mean," he said, "Always teasing me."

"Yet you still keep trying," she said, smiling at him across the phone lines.

"But it made you smile," he said, "That's what I really wanted."

"Thanks," she said, "I needed that. See you later, OK?"

"OK," he said as they both hung up their phones.

As he hung up the phone, his heart clenched a bit. He'd tried to talk Meredith into leaving. She had Cristina's condo in Pensacola. It was still near the coast, but it was safer. They had argued when he had suggested that she stay there. He had almost manhandled her and taken her there himself, but he gave in when she dug in her heels and told him she didn't live in a police state, and he wasn't going to make her go anywhere. Not a police state yet, he thought, hoping it wouldn't come to anything like that. But he knew that he was weak where she was concerned. And she knew it, too. She didn't often take advantage of that weakness, but he knew that she was desperate to stay here and that she'd pull any punches necessary to make sure that happened.

Not that she had to pull any punches with him. She was his soft spot. Meredith was beautiful. She was the most beautiful woman he'd ever met. He'd been blindsided the first day he met her. He fell instantly in love with her. And it only got worse as he got to know her better. Not only was she a knockout, she didn't seem to know it. And she was in fantastic shape—strong as an ox for such a tiny person and such a consistent runner that she had endurance to put everyone else in town to shame. She was smart and successful, too. As if her workload being a surgeon in Gulf Breeze weren't enough, she was the only doctor in town, so she spent much of her free time making house calls and giving first aid and treating everyone in the community who needed medical care. She wouldn't accept money for her services either. Those who insisted on paying her were told to make a donation to the city. Most people in this small coastal town didn't have much money to spare, but everybody made small donations to that fund when they could. And, as a result, without raising the tax rate, the town had been able to build an emergency medical building next to the elementary school. A building they'd be using tonight, he was certain.

And she would be there in it, working to help anyone who was injured or sick or in need of any medical attention. She had done those things before without the benefit of equipment or supplies or facilities. He could only imagine what she would be able to do with more at her disposal. He hoped that her services wouldn't be needed at all—that this would all literally blow over and make this evacuation seem like a silly idea. Nobody in Gulf Breeze ever evacuated anyway. They always stayed, and the town always survived—storms were just a fact of life for everyone there. So they all stayed despite the risk and the danger and the warnings. Even Meredith. Especially Meredith. He knew that nothing could make her leave in the face of the oncoming storm. And as much as he hated the helplessness that created in him, he knew there was nothing he could do-nothing except try to protect her and everyone else as much as possible. And pray. Lots of praying. He'd be doing lots of praying before the night was over.