Where You're Planted

1

Tansy

Of all the terrible decisions Tansy Perkins had made in her life, rescuing two parakeets in the middle of a hurricane had to be near the top of the list.

Already, the relentless rain had filled the Grant Gellman branch library parking lot, splashing over the tops of her yellow mid-calf wellies as she raced toward the building. She was drenched by the time she reached the door, hair plastered to her forehead and cheeks, pale pink tank top sucked wet against her stomach and breasts. She regretted going braless, not that anyone was here to be scandalized by her nipples showing through the transparent cotton. No one in their right mind was out in this storm.

Tansy unlocked the heavy exterior door, flipped on one set of overhead lights, and jogged, squishing and squeaking, through the main circulation room while the fluorescents flickered to life. Inside their cage, the birds, one blue and one green, squawked at the disturbance, puffing up their feathers and pacing on their perches.

If anyone should have risked their neck to come fetch the parakeets during the storm, it absolutely should have been Marianne, who had recently donated them as branch pets without administrative approval. But because they were new, no one had established a bird-retrieval protocol in the event of a hurricane, and by the time Tansy's daughter, Briar, asked who was keeping them safe, area roads were already starting to flood.

I'll be in and out, back in ten minutes. That's what she'd told her next-door neighbor, Dottie, when she left Briar with her. The scant three blocks between her house and the library couldn't get that much worse in ten minutes.

The cage was so big her arms couldn't reach all the way around it, and as soon as she hoisted it up, the water in the dish sloshed out onto her hip. The rain pounded urgently against the roof of the library. Tansy glanced around for a tarp or newspaper, anything to cover the open slats of the cage to keep the birds dry. Upon racing into meeting room A, she immediately spotted the big rainbow-colored parachute that she and the parents puffed up over the babies during story time. It was made of nylon or something-not totally waterproof, but good enough. She wrapped it around the cage, bear-hugged the load, and shuffled awkwardly back toward the entrance.

When she was halfway across the main room, the front door banged open.

"Who the hell is in here?" a deep voice boomed. "I swear, if you're saving books in the middle of a hurricane-"

Tansy was just rounding the circulation desk into the foyer when the man barreled in and nearly slammed into her. She lurched back, bumping against the checkout counter. Underneath the parachute fabric, the birds let loose a volley of alarmed squawks.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" The man glanced back out the door at the dense veil of rain, then past Tansy into the dim library, where all the books were neatly slotted and the Children's Corner toys were stowed away in the chest under the Wish Tree. Finally, he focused on the covered cage, inside which the birds flapped and knocked about noisily. "What is that?"

"Birds."

He crossed his arms over his sage-green polo, which had the adjacent botanic gardens' logo and a name-Jack-stitched onto the breast. It clung wetly to his broad shoulders and chest. His drenched khaki cargo pants were similarly plastered to his thick thighs. Water dripped from his longish, dark hair onto his collar. "Birds," he said flatly.

"If the roads get worse, and we can't get back for a few days, they'll run out of food and water."

"If the roads get worse," Jack echoed, hands on hips, chest rising and falling quickly. Rivulets of water sluiced down his face, catching in his short beard. His thick eyebrows were wet, drawn together with a trench between them, and his nose had a prominent Roman bridge and severe slope. It was a face made for stern looks, just like the one he was giving her now. "You realize that's a category four hurricane out there?"

His condescension lit a brush fire of shame just under her skin. She shifted the birdcage to her hip, forgetting it was shielding the view of her nipples. Until he tracked the movement, eyes blatantly tripping at her chest. "Of course," she said, resisting covering herself and acknowledging another of her poor choices. "Why do you think I came for them?"

He shook his head tersely, sending droplets of water flying off the ends of his hair. "You've got to be kidding me."

His open scorn was needles under her nails. "I get it," she snapped. "It's a big storm. But I'm not an idiot. I was on my way out when you-"

"I was about to lock the gate," he cut in. "Just happened to see your car. If I hadn't, you'd be trapped in here."

That thought sank through her like a cold stone. But for all this man's urgency and judgment, he was the one holding her up. If not for him, she'd be locking the door by now.

"Risking your life for some fucking birds." He knifed a hand at her cargo like it personally offended him.

"I couldn't leave them to starve to death."

"When the creek overflows its banks in about an hour, it's gonna run directly through here. Won't be inches. It'll be four, five feet, maybe more. They wouldn't starve. They'd drown."

Tansy gulped. She knew the library was prone to flooding. Just before she was hired last year, it had closed for a six-week renovation following a springtime flood that brought three inches of water into the building. But she hadn't realized the nearby creek could rise so high, or so quickly. Pains in the ass or not, the birds drowning in their cage was an unbearable thought, followed immediately by what that much water would do to all the books. And to her house, half a mile away.

Shit. She should have heeded all the early warnings, should have taken Charlie's offer to evacuate to his place in Dallas. But three days ago, that had seemed like an overreaction.

By the time the storm had intensified to a greater threat and admin closed all the branches yesterday, the traffic heading out of town was already congested, even with the southbound lanes reversed for contraflow. Maybe she still should have tried to leave. Instead, she'd driven all over her northeast Houston suburb with Briar and managed to snag a couple gallons of water, some bread, and peanut butter. She'd charged backup battery packs and filled the tub with water for flushing toilets, all the while hoping she was overpreparing.

But now, seeing this man's incredulous expression, Tansy felt like an utter idiot. And a terrible mother. As hard as she tried to make better choices for herself and Briar, she kept winding up here, about to face the consequences of yet another crucial misjudgment.

"What are you, five-five? A buck thirty soaking wet?" Jack asked.

Tansy straightened to her full five feet, seven inches. "Excuse you. What does my size have to do with-"

"Forget it," he said, sweeping his arm impatiently toward the exit. "We have to get out of here. Assuming you can make it out of the lot without flooding your engine."

Was the water already that high? She'd been inside less than ten minutes.

"I get it, okay?" she snapped. "You don't have to be a jerk."

He ran a hand over his hair and clutched the back of his neck. He looked almost chastened. But then he said, "What even is that toy car out there?"

She huffed. "It's a Civic." She hoisted the cage back up, its bottom edge digging uncomfortably into her stomach. If he was in such a damn hurry, he could have helped with the cage. But he clearly already thought she was incompetent, and she wasn't about to prove him right by asking for a hand.

"If you're gonna run around in a flood, at least have the sense to drive a truck."

The nerve of this man. She clenched her teeth and marched ahead of him. "Noted."

Tansy's first step onto the slick linoleum in the foyer sent her suddenly pitching forward. She fully expected to slam onto her knees, unable to break her fall without losing hold of the birds, but something hooked under her ribs and caught her mid-drop. The abrupt stop knocked the wind out of her, and all she could do for a few long seconds was open and close her mouth like a fish on land. Jack didn't speak and didn't immediately unhook his arm after pulling her back to standing. Finally, she caught a productive gasp, and he passed her to shove the door open, back to the business of rushing her out. No Are you okay? No Sorry for basically Heimliching you. Well, fine.

The overhang outside blocked the downpour, but the wind whipped the rain sideways at their backs and legs as Tansy wedged the cage between her hip and the door to lock up. Jack tapped his boot impatiently. "Come on. Hurry up." She was already rehearsing the phone call she would make come Monday to his supervisor at Lerner Botanic Gardens. That would teach him not to be an asshole when his place of business and his name were embroidered right there on his shirt.

But as Tansy fantasized about his comeuppance, the rain-slick keys slipped her grasp and fell into the water. It churned above the curbs now, licking the underside of her car in the lot, sloshing up near her license plate. She froze, overwhelmed by the sudden lake between her car and the exit.

"Which one?" Jack had her keys now.

"The big one."

He jammed it in quickly then dragged her away by her elbow. Rain beat with incredible force on her head and shoulders. His strides were too long, and she tripped after him. Jack indelicately manhandled the birdcage between the door frame and her folded-down front seat, then shoved the seat back into place with a loud thunk. When he turned to find her still frozen on the curb, he snapped, "Get. In."

On principle, Tansy didn't take orders from assholes. But in this case, with water sloshing onto her floorboard, she obeyed without a word.

"Follow me close," he shouted over the rain, ducking his face near hers. "Stay on my bumper. The lot dips through the middle there. If you stop, you won't make it. Got it?"

"Like . . . how close?" Her hands were slick on the steering wheel.

"Close. My truck will push the water out, but it's gonna flow right back at you if you stop."

"Okay, but-" Shit, she was suddenly so scared. She was sure he could see it all over her face, in the tremble of her chin and her wide eyes.

If he did notice, he had no patience for her panic. "Whatever you do, don't fucking stop," he said and then slammed the door.

Tansy followed his huge truck as closely as she could, tapping frequently on her brakes so she didn't ram him, then lurching to catch back up. Just like he'd said, his truck pushed up high walls of water on either side of Tansy's car. Her heart was fully lodged in her throat, hands clenched around the wheel so tightly they ached.

As they crossed the center of the lot, Tansy's headlights submerged and dimmed, and for one brief, terrifying moment, all the warning lights on the dashboard flashed on. She was sure she was going to stall right there. Would Jack stop or just leave her behind? What if she got trapped? If she couldn't push her door open? The power windows wouldn't work. She didn't have one of those window-breaker things. Why had she never bought one of those?

Tansy couldn't breathe. She hunched forward over the steering wheel, nearly pressing her forehead to the windshield.

But just as quickly as the warning lights flashed on, they blinked off, and her car kept going. Soon they were ascending the slope of the lot up onto the road. Jack pulled through the gate and parked on the shoulder. On his jog back to lock the gate, he bent to meet her eyes through her window. Despite the rain and chaos, he didn't break away immediately, just held his gaze on her and saw her face crumple with the threat of tears before she controlled it. He nodded as if to say, I know. And for that brief moment, Tansy felt seen and okay. Then a loud bang on the roof of her car startled her-his fist-and he waved her on.

The short drive home was a panic-ridden eternity. Even on the most aggressive setting, her windshield wipers barely cleared the rain for brief glimpses of the street ahead of her. After hydroplaning twice, her stomach plunging to the floorboard both times, Tansy steered to the higher middle of the road. She couldn't even see the center line, could only guess where it was.

Finally, Tansy pulled into her driveway, half of which had disappeared into the wide canal the road had become. Teeth chattering so violently it hurt, she killed the ignition, hugged the steering wheel, and sobbed.

Once she composed herself enough to mask her distress from Briar, she muscled the birdcage from the back seat and hissed shakily into the parachute cover, "Sure hope you're worth all that, you lucky little shits."

2

Jack

By the sixth rescue run of the evening, Jack was soaked through, his fingers pruned and his hair stuck to his neck under his drenched cap. He cut the motor and let the boat drift for a moment, straining through the beating rain to listen for anyone calling out.

"We got another address?" he shouted to Omar at the bow, wiping rain from his face with his wet forearm. The last two houses they'd checked had already been picked up. Good for those families, but the chaos of this whole operation exacerbated Jack's already frayed nerves from the constant beating rain, the discomfort of wet clothes, and the frustratingly limited visibility. Other volunteers who were not coordinating with the fire department were making their own runs, and Jack couldn't shake the certainty that while some folks were getting checked on two or three times after sending out pleas to friends, to emergency services, and on social media, others must be going unnoticed.

"Take a left up here," Omar called back, pointing at a street sign. The water reached halfway up its pole.

"Heard anything from Amy?" Jack asked.

Omar dug his phone from his dry bag, checked the screen quickly, and called over his shoulder, "Nothing new. I'm sure they're getting busy with people showing up."