Cape Refuge/Southern StormCopyright © 2006 by Terri BlackstockCape RefugeCopyright © 2002 by Terri BlackstockSouthern StormCopyright © 2003 by Terri BlackstockRequests for information should be addressed to:Zondervan, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49530ISBN-10: 0-310-60535-0 (softcover)ISBN-13: 978-0-310-60535-5 (softcover)All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible:New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by InternationalBible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrievalsystem, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy,recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, withoutthe prior permission of the publisher.Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc.,7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.Interior design by Beth ShagenePrinted in the United States of America06 07 08 09 10 11 12 • 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1The air conditioner was broken at CityHall, and the smell of warm salt air drifted through thewindows from the beach across the street. Morgan Clearyfanned herself and wished she hadn’t dressed up. Shemight have known that no one else would. The mayor satin shorts and a T-shirt that advertised his favorite beer.One of the city councilmen wore a Panama hat and flipflops.Sarah Williford, the newest member of the CapeRefuge City Council, looked as if she’d come in from aday of surfing and hadn’t even bothered to stop by theshower. She wore a spandex top that looked like a bathingsuit and a pair of cutoff jeans. Her long hair could haveused a brush.The council members sat with relaxed arrogance,rocking back and forth in the executive chairs they’d spenttoo much money on. Their critics—which included almosteveryone in town—thought they should have used thatmoney to fix the potholes in the roads that threadedthrough the island. But Morgan was glad the council wascomfortable. She didn’t want them irritable when her parentsspoke.The mayor’s nasal drone moved to the next item on theagenda. “I was going to suggest jellyfish warning signs at some ofthe more popular sites on the beach, but Doc Spencer tells me heain’t seen too many patients from stings in the last week or so—”“Wait, Fred,” Sarah interrupted without the microphone.“Just because they’re not stinging this week doesn’t mean theywon’t be stinging next week. My sign shop would give the city agood price on a design for a logo of some kind to put up on all thebeaches, warning people of possible jellyfish attacks.”“Jellyfish don’t attack,” the mayor said, his amplified voicegiving everyone a start.“Well, I can see you never got stung by one.”“How you gonna draw a picture of ’em when you can’thardly see ’em?”Everyone laughed, and Sarah threw back some comment thatcouldn’t be heard over the noise.Morgan leaned over Jonathan, her husband, and nudged hersister. “Blair, what should we do?” she whispered. “We’re comingup on the agenda. Where are Mama and Pop?”Blair tore her amused eyes from the sight at the front of theroom and checked her watch. “Somebody needs to go check onthem,” she whispered. “Do you believe these people? I’m so proudto have them serving as my elected officials.”“This is a waste of time,” Jonathan said. He’d been angryand stewing all day, mostly at Morgan’s parents, but also at her.His leather-tanned face was sunburned from the day’s fishing, buthe was clean and freshly shaven. He hadn’t slept much last night,and the fatigue showed in the lines of his face.“Just wait,” she said, stroking his arm. “When Mama andPop get here, it’ll be worth it.”He set his hand over hers—a silent affirmation that he wasputting the angry morning behind him—and got to his feet. “I’mgoing to find them.”“Good idea,” Morgan said. “Tell them to hurry.” “They don’t need to hurry,” Blair whispered. “We’ve got lotsof stuff to cover before they talk about shutting down our bedand-breakfast. Shoot, there’s that stop sign down at Pine andMimosa. And Goodfellows Grocery has a lightbulb out in theirparking lot.”“Now, before we move on,” Fred Hutchins, the mayor, said,studying his notes as if broaching a matter of extreme importance,“I’d like to mention that Chief Cade of the Cape Refuge PoliceDepartment tells me he has several leads on the person or personswho dumped that pile of gravel in my parking spot.”A chuckle rippled over the room, and the mayor scowled.“The perpetrator will be prosecuted.”Blair spat out her suppressed laughter, and Morgan slappedher arm. “Shhh,” Morgan tried not to grin, “you’re going to makehim mad.”“I’m just picturing a statewide search for the fugitive withthe dump truck,” Blair said, “on a gravel-dumping spree acrossthe whole state of Georgia.”Morgan saw the mayor’s eyes fasten on her, and she punchedher sister again. Blair drew in a quick breath and tried tostraighten up.“The Owenses still ain’t here?” he asked.While Morgan glanced back at the door, Blair shot to herfeet. “No, Fred, they’re not here. Why don’t you just move thisoff the agenda and save it until next week? I’m sure something’scome up.”“Maybe they don’t intend to come,” the mayor said.“Don’t you wish,” Blair fired back. “You’re threatening toshut down their business. They’ll be here, all right.”“Well, I’m tired of waiting,” the mayor said into the microphone,causing feedback to squeal across the room. Everybodycovered their ears until Jason Manford got down on his knees andfiddled with the knob. “We’ve moved it down the agenda twicealready tonight,” the mayor went on. “If we ever want to get outof here, I think we need to start arguin’ this right now.”Morgan got up. “Mayor, there must be something wrong.Jonathan went to see if he could find them. Please, if we could justhave a few more minutes.”“We’re not waitin’ any longer. Now if anybody from yourcamp has somethin’ to say . . .”“What are you gonna do, Mayor?” Blair asked, pushing upher sleeves and shuffling past the knees and feet on her row. “Shutus down without a hearing? That’s not even legal. You could findyourself slapped with a lawsuit, and then you wouldn’t even havetime to worry about jellyfish and gravel. Where would that leavethe town?”She marched defiantly past the standing-room-only crowdagainst the wall to the microphone at the front of the room.Morgan got a queasy feeling in her stomach. Blair wasn’t themost diplomatic of the Owens family. She was an impatient intellectualwho found her greatest fulfillment in the books of thelibrary she ran. People were something of a nuisance to her, andshe found their pettiness unforgivable.Blair set her hands on her hips. “I’ve been wanting to giveyou a piece of my mind for a long time now, Fred.”The people erupted into loud chatter, and the mayor bangedhis gavel to silence them. “As you know, young lady, the city councilmembers and I have agreed that the publicity from the 20/20show about Hanover House a few months ago brought a wholenew element to this town. The show portrayed your folks aswillin’ to take in any ol’ Joe with a past and even exposed somethings about one of your current tenants that made the people ofthis town uncomfortable and afraid. We want to be a familyfriendlytourist town, not a refuge for every ex-con with a probationofficer. For that reason, we believe Hanover House is adanger to this town and that it’s in the city’s best interest to closeit down under Zoning Ordinance number 503.

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Excerpted from Southern Storm-Cape Refuge 2 In 1 by Terri Blackstock
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