Admit One

ALLISON
Hawbaker looked up as the overhead light flickered and then went out, leaving her alone in the dark bathroom, clutching a toilet brush.

She tried not to think of it as a metaphor for the current state of her life.

“Allie!”

“Coming!” she answered the slightly panicked call of her employee, Rainey Stratton.  Rainey was re-shelving the educational books that were strewn about the Dust Jacket’s children’s section following the departure of one Kirby Abbott and her three pre-school aged offspring. Judging from the state of the floor when Allie had come in to clean the bathroom, Kirby needed to skip phonics and work on teaching her four-year-old twin boys better aim.

Dropping the toilet brush in the general vicinity of the corner, Allie snapped off her rubber gloves and felt her way along the wall. Placing fixed shutters over the window in the bathroom so that they could add an extra stall had seemed like a great idea when she and her business partner were renovating the old house into a bookstore/tea room. But getting stuck in the dark little box during an electrical storm was causing her to reconsider that position.

Finally, she located the doorknob by bumping into it with her hip. Rubbing the spot, she yanked open the door, gulping air like a landed trout. 

“Allie, is that you?”

“No, it’s Freddy Krueger.”

“That’s not funny.”

Allie followed the sound of Rainey’s indignant voice until her eyes finally adjusted. She could just make out the younger woman’s tall, lithe form cowering beside a bookshelf.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark.”

“Hey, everyone knows that thunderstorms coupled with power outages are two of the three necessary conditions to bring forth deranged, hatchet-wielding serial killers from… wherever it is that they hang out otherwise.”

“Starbucks?”

“Sure, poke fun. You won’t be laughing when the hatchet-wielding maniac chops through the door.”

Amusement tamping down her own discomfort, Allie slowly edged toward the counter. She was pretty sure they had some candles in one of the drawers. “And what’s the third condition to bring forth this hatchet-wielding maniac, might I ask?”

“Teenagers having sex.”

“Well, since you’re the only one of us within spitting distance of that age bracket, and as far as I can tell, you’re not currently in flagrante delicto, I think we’ll be okay.” Allie bumped into the edge of the counter, hitting the same spot on her hip. Swallowing a curse, she went around the back, opening the drawer she thought might hold candles.

“I’m barely twenty. And anyway,” Rainey admitted. “I was thinking about having sex.”

“Like that’s something new?” But since thinking about having sex was the closest Allie’d come to the actual deed since her fiancé called off their engagement well over a year ago, she slammed the drawer – which was empty except for Rainey’s purse – a little harder than necessary. 

“Are you looking for candles?” Rainey said, gingerly picking her way closer. “Because I think Sarah took those home with her a couple of weeks ago.”

Allie’s shoulders sagged with exasperation.  “Why didn’t you say so?”

“I just did.”

Sarah Barnwell – Allie’s business partner and best friend since grade school – had probably taken the candles to use for a romantic dinner with her fiancé. Irritation flared, but was quickly doused. In the months since Tucker Pettigrew had moved in next door to the Dust Jacket, Allie’d never seen her friend happier. The curmudgeonly author with the surprisingly squishy center was Sarah’s match in almost every way. And Allie had come to think of Tucker as a brother.  

Not that she needed another one, considering she had three of her own. With whom she was currently living. And sadly,
that
fact wasn’t the biggest contributor to her sexless state.

She really needed to get a life.

Jumping at a noise beside her, Allie glanced out the window, where the gnarled limb of a live oak tree scraped its bony fingers against the glass.

“God, that sounds creepy,” Rainey whispered.

Since the little hairs on the back of Allie’s neck were standing at attention, she couldn’t disagree. The rain hadn’t yet started, but the wind blew in angry gusts and thunder rumbled, like the mean-spirited cackle of some ancient, pissed-off god. From the looks of things, the entire block was without power. Absent the occasional strike of lightning, the neighborhood appeared black as a tomb. At least the appliances were on a backup generator, so she didn’t have to worry about their perishables going bad.

During one of those lightning strikes, Allie caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the counter. Wide blue eyes stared out from a pale oval face caught between chin length black hair and a dark blue blouse. She looked like a disembodied, floating spectral head.

The limb blew against the glass again, and Allie jumped.  “And now you’re just spooking yourself,” she muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Allie said, opening the drawer again and taking out Rainey’s purse. “Why don’t you go on home.” The younger woman lived in an apartment just a couple blocks over. “Who knows when the power will be back on? We can’t do any more tonight anyway, and I’d feel better if you left before it gets really nasty.”

Rainey hesitated.  “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. Thanks, Allie.” She grabbed her purse. “Ten to one my roommate is already roasting marshmallows in the fireplace. Last time the power went out we ended up with her entire Abnormal Psych class at our place making s’mores.”

“Sounds crazy.”

“Hardy har har. See you Monday.”

“Be careful walking home.”

Rainey’s long legs ate up the distance to the front door just as another bolt of lightning flashed outside. She hunched her shoulders, then gave a little finger wave before closing the door behind her. 

Allie sighed. Oh, to be that young. When life’s little inconveniences were merely another excuse to party.

Realizing that this particular inconvenience put an effective end to her workday, Allie decided to take her own advice and leave before the storm got worse. Having the traffic lights out would be bad enough, but once the rain set in, the drive home could turn treacherous. River Oaks, her family home, sat on a bluff overlooking the Sweetwater River, but the roads leading there tended to flood. After all, they didn’t call this the Lowcountry for nothing. Most of Sweetwater sat about fifteen feet above sea level, at best.

Abandoning the search for candles, Allie pulled her key ring from the pocket of her sweater.  And rolled her eyes heavenward. She’d forgotten all about the miniature penlight on the ring, courtesy of her older brother Will, the family Boy Scout.

Well, technically he was the Chief of Police. But he had that “Be Prepared” thing bred into his marrow. Switching on the surprisingly strong beam, Allie headed toward the front door, needing to lock up before grabbing her own purse from the office and heading out the back. She bounced the light along the floor, recalling, for some unfathomable reason, the shadow animals she and Sarah used to make as kids. Allie stuck her free hand in the beam, elevating two fingers while curling the rest. Was that the dog? Hmm. It looked more like a rabbit. Maybe you had to use two hands to form the dog. 

She’d have to see if Sarah had stocked any shadow puppetry how-to books in the children’s section. 

Allie’d just about reached the door when it burst open on a gust of wind.

“Aaahh!” Stumbling back from the large, dark shape framed in the doorway, Allie crashed into one of the bistro tables, promptly falling onto her butt. The table rocked, then tipped ominously, but was righted before it could crash down onto her head.

“Well hell, Al, don’t go braining yourself,” said a familiar voice. “It’s just me.”

The voice’s owner steadied the table.  Relief swamped her, followed quickly by irritation.  In retaliation, she shined the beam of the penlight directly in her brother’s face.

“Cut that out.” Will lifted his arm to protect eyes the exact shade of blue as her own. “If you’d been aiming that thing toward the door, like a reasonable person, instead of making weird hand signals at the floor, you would have seen me through the glass.”

“If you’d knocked, like someone who was raised to have some manners, you wouldn’t have scared me half to death.” 

“Since when do I have to knock to come into your store? Which is open to the public, I might add.”

Deciding he had a point, Allie graciously lowered the penlight and accepted his outstretched hand.

“You okay?”

“Dandy.” Allie brushed off the seat of her skirt. She eyed Will, taking in the crisp white shirt and tan pants beneath his SPD rain slicker. “I thought you had a date.”

“I did.” He pushed wavy dark hair back from his aggrieved face. “But duty called.  There’ve been three traffic accidents in the past half hour, two of them due to an oak that came down across Calhoun Street. Barely missed the restaurant where we were having dinner.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“Just some minor bumps and bruises. But with the way this storm is shaping up, it’ll likely get worse before it gets better.  I thought I’d stop by and let you know that I talked to Bran and he said he’s got things covered.  Dad’s already in bed and he’s got the generator in case the power goes out there, too.”     

Their brother Branson – Allie’s twin – had been in charge of caring for their ailing father while Allie and Will were at work.  Allie was planning on taking the evening shift so that Bran could catch a break and Will could enjoy his date.  She opened her mouth to ask why Bran would have to cover anything when realization dawned.

“Calhoun Street’s blocked.”

Will nodded. “Between getting the accidents and that tree cleared out during the storm, I don’t think it’ll be open to traffic for at least a couple of hours, maybe more.”

And since Calhoun offered the only access to River Road – and their house – that meant Allie was stuck.

“Maybe you should just crash at Sarah’s,” Will suggested.

Allie shook her head. “Tucker refinished the wood floors, remember? That’s why they went down to Florida to see her dad for the weekend. Fumes.” 

Although their guest cottage was available if Allie desperately needed a place to stay. “Just keep me posted on the progress, if you can. I hate to do that to Bran. I’ll –”

Allie’s protest was cut off by the sound of a nerve-jangling scream from outside.

“What…” Allie began, and then ice shot through her veins. “Rainey.” She grabbed Will’s arm. “I sent her home right before you walked in. She couldn’t have gotten very far.”

“Sit tight,” Will said, even as he turned his own flashlight on and unsnapped the holster that held his service weapon. “I’ll go check it out.”

Heart pounding, Allie watched him hustle out the door.

And lasted all of about sixty seconds.

“Darn it.” She bumped into the table again as she turned to follow him, righting it before it could fall. By the time she got to the door she could make out three figures near the edge of the parking lot. One of them was on the ground. 

“Oh my God. What happened?” She rushed down the handicapped ramp, staring at the young man lying curled like a shrimp at a sobbing Rainey’s feet. She recognized the flop of blond hair instantly, despite the fact that it was partially matted with blood. Tommy Culpepper.  His nose was gushing and he held onto his side, groaning.

“Tommy saw me leaving and he st-stopped to ask if I needed someone to walk me home,” Rainey stuttered, holding on to Tommy’s hand. “We were talking and these two g-guys just came out of nowhere and j-jumped him.”

Will was already on his phone, calling for backup, giving a quick description of the two suspects to his dispatcher. “Paramedics are on their way,” he said to Tommy, squeezing the young man’s arm. “Allie, stay with him and Rainey until they get here.”