The Last Train to Key West by Chanel Cleeton

Author:Chanel Cleeton [Chanel Cleeton]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2020-06-16T00:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

Helen

It’s nearly four in the afternoon when the ferry finally arrives on Matecumbe Key, the trip taking three hours longer than it should have due to the broken propeller. The seas were rough, the weather bad, an utterly interminable journey, my stomach unsettled.

Is Tom out fishing in this weather? Or is he in our cottage in Key West realizing I am not coming home? Or is he already on his way after me?

The ferry landing is connected to a small harbor where fishing boats are docked. A chill slides down my spine as my gaze runs over the dilapidated vessels, as I stand next to John, waiting to disembark, and scan the boats, searching for the Helen.

A line of cars is parked at the landing, passengers trying to board the ferry.

“Will they be able to get out?” I ask John.

“Between the propeller and the weather, not likely.”

“Do you really think the storm will hit us?” I can’t forget Tom’s earlier conviction that we’d be fine. For all his flaws, he’s always known the sea.

“I don’t know. But for everyone’s sake, I hope they’re cautious about it. They’ve been pumping men into the camps these past few months, and many of them have no idea what it’s like down here, have never been through a hurricane. Hell, even rainstorms flood the camps.”

“What will they do with all of you if the storm hits?”

“There’s supposed to be a train that will take us north.”

His tone makes his thoughts on the matter clear.

“You don’t think it will work?”

“It’ll be a disaster. Any semblance of order in the camps is difficult on a good day. In a crisis, it will be impossible. Not to mention, if you can’t get people out of the Keys entirely, where would they go? There’s no high ground here. Just the water.” He hesitates. “If it gets bad, promise me you’ll head north. Go to Miami or farther up. In your condition, you don’t want to take the risk of getting caught in one of these storms. At least you’re closer to the mainland than you would have been in Key West.”

“I will,” I reply. “Hopefully, the storm will miss us entirely.” I understand his concern, and the baby certainly changes things, but it’s hard to explain to someone who isn’t from here what it’s like. You develop a healthy respect for Mother Nature—after all, you coexist mostly peacefully, and she directs your fortunes more often than you’d care to admit—but life goes on down here in fair weather or foul. When you’re trying to survive, you don’t have the luxury to leave when things are difficult. You dig in and make the best of it.

But I have left.

I’m still not sure of what to make of it. It’s as though someone else got into the car, and onto the ferry, and sailed away from her husband, baby in tow.

What will I tell my child when it asks how I could have left? What would I have told my

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