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theshopislocal · 4 years ago

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Humid and warm, the air in Kihei hangs thick.

Dean had spent his first twelve or so hours on the island coaxing his lungs to take in the briny air, sweating through the pits of his knockoff Tommy Bahama shirt, and subtly trying to smooth his poofy hair. Eventually, he’d given up and just peered out the window, eyes roving over the billowing fog in the valleys between the mountains.

Unlike nearly every other trip Dean’s been on, this one was planned to the nines. The rental car (a freaking Prius that Dean keeps forgetting is even on, it runs so damn quiet), the Hawaiian print vacation wardrobe (a wedding gift from Bobby, of all people), the private villa (courtesy of Charlie, though Dean still isn’t sure if she digitally finagled a lease or if she somehow owns the place), and a fifteen page color-coded itinerary - written, printed, and laminated by Sam.

Dean peels one eye open and casts it over the sprawling master suite. They’d arrived two days ago, but the luggage sits by the armoire still packed, the itinerary unopened on the low coffee table.

Dean smirks down at the sheets, sweat-damp and tangled near his feet, then swings his legs over the side of the bed. He hoists himself upright - ankles cracking, knees creaking - and his spine gives a resounding pop. He’s sore in some unusual places, and there are clusters of light bruises low on his thighs. He huffs an off-color laugh under his breath.

Movement in his peripheral vision has Dean looking over his shoulder toward the lanai.

The view through the open French doors is something else. A vast endless ocean, translucent blue and rippling, flanked by curving palm trees and golden-white sand. The clouds hang low, nearly crashing into the water.

And right in the center, barely twenty feet from where Dean stands, is a wide teak bench - with a dark, tousled head peaking over it.

Dean’s face cracks in a crooked smile.

He staggers toward the veranda, pausing to step into a pair of boxers that he’s pretty sure are his, and lumbers barefoot onto the stone tile under the awning.

He steps around the bench and lowers himself gingerly onto the seat. A familiar ache climbs from the backs of his thighs to the small of his back, and he smiles at the low burn.

He glances over at Cas. He’s wearing a white undershirt (Dean’s) and blue plaid boxers, hirsute legs crossed at the ankles. His skin is dewy in the damp air, arms goosebumped (though it’s 70-something degrees), and a dusting of stubble crawls over his sharp jawline. His hair is a riot, pillow-flattened at the back and wild everywhere else.

He looks—

Dean chews his lip and follows Cas’ gaze out over the water. There’s a seabird flying lazy figure eights a ways out.

Dean clears his throat and swallows. “So.”

“So,” Cas grumbles back.

One corner of Dean’s mouth ticks up, and he bumps his shoulder briefly against Cas’. “Man,” he huffs out and tips his head toward the bedroom. “We coulda been doin’ that for...” he trails off and shakes his head, pressing his back against the bench. There’s a sore spot just under his shoulder blade, and he wonders if there’s a bruise there, too.

Cas hums and tilts his head. “Ten years, give or take.”

Dean’s brow drops low, head turning sharply toward Cas. “Ten years,” he repeats, bemused.

Cas hums again, head craning back to follow the seagull’s steep climb upward. “Closer to twelve, maybe.”

Dean blinks several times in succession.

Twelve years.

Twelve years?

No. No, that’s not right. Dean couldn’t have had Cas twelve years ago. Twelve years ago, Dean was young and stupid, blind to everything but the never-ending search for revenge, mired in a pit of tar-black self-loathing, salty and embittered, lonesome and angry—

Dean swallows around a sudden lump in his throat. “We barely knew each other,” he grunts out.

Cas sighs a soft laugh and turns toward Dean. He’s got that look he gets sometimes - all soft-lipped forbearance and bag-eyed empathy. And there’s something else, too. Something in the pink rims of his eyelids, the straight line of his brow - something bittersweet and aching like—

Cas turns back toward the sea, head tilting just so. “Did you know,” he murmurs, “the first garrison sent to collect you from the Pit—” he shakes his head, “—failed.”

Dean frowns, eying Cas’ stark profile against the ice-blue sky. “Oh?”

Cas hums and gives a slow nod, eyes seeking out the little bird again, gone back now to its idle circling. “They couldn’t find you,” he intones. “Hell is...” he pauses, and his shoulders twitch in a little shrug, “... expansive.”

Dean nods. He’d spent forty years there, after all - not counting the various forays afterwards. Every time he’d returned, there’d been a moment of paralyzing fear - a desperate clench somewhere in his chest, as he wondered if he’d make it out this time.

Dean shakes his head, shoulders going stiff. “So how’d you find me?” he grumbles.

Cas is silent for a beat, and Dean peers up at him. His face has gone soft, mouth curving around a tiny smile. “I saw you the moment I arrived,” he murmurs.

Dean stares at him, noting the faraway tone and the loose shoulders, the new laugh-line etching itself at the corner of Cas’ mouth.

He replays the words in his head and gives a dry snort. “What was I, right next to your dropsite?”

Cas’ lips pull back, smile going wide and gummy. “No,” he demurs. “No, you were...” he squints, considering, “... twenty, maybe thirty thousand miles away.”

Dean feels his jaw go slack, eyebrows climbing toward his forehead. He remembers Sammy’s dorky astronomy phase when they were kids, how he’d inundated Dean with silly Snapple-cap facts - like the precise length of an astronomical unit, or the eight thousand mile diameter of the earth.

Twenty, maybe thirty thousand miles away.

Dean’s eyelids flutter, head shaking in a recursive twitch. His mouth has gone dry, tongue sticking to the backs of his teeth as he grunts out, “Thirty- thousand miles.”

Cas tips his head side to side. “Thereabouts, yes.”

Dean stares at him, eyes wide and unblinking. His jaw works soundlessly for a moment before he scrubs a weathered hand over his face, breathing a startled laugh. “How?”

Cas gives a bemused hum and tilts his head toward Dean, though his eyes still chase the little seagull.

Dean shakes his head. “How could you see me?”

Cas’ eyes cut over to Dean’s, slitted against the morning sun. They flick over Dean’s face like Cas is categorizing him, committing him to memory, and Dean feels his brow sink in a frown.

A tiny smile pulls at the corner of Cas’ mouth. His eyes go soft in that way they do when he’s about to say something too frank, too forthright, too—

“You were a beacon.”

Dean’s eyes fall shut, and a sigh gusts out of him, emptying his lungs.

Stupid, really; it’s not like he doesn’t know how Cas feels. He’d known it when Cas had first said the words - bloodied and weeping, walking the plank. He’d known it when Cas had returned from the Void - pale and thin, with fragile bones and sunken eyes. He’d known it five days ago, when Cas had murmured I do, and Dean, wet-eyed, had grunted it back.

And yet.

“I was confused,” Cas says, cutting through Dean’s wayward thoughts. “I didn’t understand why my brethren couldn’t see you.” He breathes out a soft sigh, eyes distant and a little awestruck. “You shone like a star.”

Dean’s jaw goes taut, molars grinding together. He peers down at his feet and digs his toe into a hairline crack in the stone tile. He isn’t a star. Most days, he’s barely even sure he’s a man, so much as a hapless slew of endless mistakes, hands gnarled and spine bowing under the weight.

He doesn’t argue, though - can’t argue; it’s one of the vows Cas had pulled from him as they’d stood together in the graffitied barn where they’d met: Promise me, Cas had whispered, promise me you’ll let me.

There’s a soft pressure at Dean’s side - Cas nudging him with his shoulder - and Dean looks up.

Cas’ eyes shine a bright Carolina blue, his chapped lips curved in a bittersweet smile. “I found you,” he says, “the same way that...” he shakes his head, casting his eyes toward the ground, “... a sailor finds a lighthouse.”

Something swells in Dean’s chest, pressing against the inside of his rib cage, and there’s a sharp sting behind his eyes.

Cas glances back up at him, and his eyebrows arch toward the center of his forehead as he says, “You were all I could see.”

The tension across Dean’s shoulders breaks - sudden and startling - and he hunches forward, blowing out a sigh. His vision is hazy at the edges, wetness clumping his eyelashes together.

Twelve years.

Dean’s mouth moves before his brain does. “Even—” Dean bites his tongue, incisors digging into the tip, then shakes his head. He’s already come this far - so far, actually, now that he’s thinking about it. “Even then?” he intones. “Even back then, you...?”

The question hangs, floating on the salted air, and a cumulus cloud crawls over the sun. The light bends and shifts.

Cas smiles down at his feet then peers out over the water. “Yes,” he says plainly. “Even then.”

Dean blows out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and follows Cas’ eyes to the sea. There’s something fluttering in Dean’s throat, pressing at the backs of his teeth, waiting to slip out. Dean holds the tiny words on his tongue, tasting them on every inhale.

The clouds part above, a shaft of yellow light cutting through the mist, and a gust of wind sends the little seabird soaring, up and up and up—

#deancas honeymoon #destiel #fanfiction #tfw u think it’ll be like 200 words #lol keep dreaming #concrit welcome

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drjholtzmann · 3 years ago

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8 + 13 (together or pick one, dealers choice!)

8. sunbathing

13. too loud

“Well?” He says, turning to her and holding his hands out to the sides, waiting for her appraisal.

Kim tilts her head, taking him in. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“Really?” He looks down, flattening his already flat tie. “It’s not…” he readjusts his pocket square, “too… loud?”

He looks up in time to see Kim smile, the gentle crease of it at her eyes. “No. It’s not too loud. It’s colourful.” She walks over to him, brushing invisible lint off his lapel. “It’s you.”

8. sunbathing

“If things were different,” Jimmy says softly, his nose bumping against Kim’s, brushing her cheek, “where would we be?”

“Hm?” She tries to pull back enough to look at him, and Jimmy sees her glittering eyes as her brows draw together. Her fingers trace delicate patterns up and down his forearm.

“Huell offered his cousin’s BnB in Roswell, for the honeymoon,” he over emphasises the word, highlighting its absurdity.

“Oh, really?” Her smirk settles to one side of her lips, and Jimmy is momentarily distracted by the dimple it creates.

“Yeah,” he tries to grab ahold of his train of thought, “who knew the big guy was such a romantic.”

“Mmm.” And he can tell there’s still amusement in her voice, can still see the stars in her eyes.

“So,” he readjusts his head on the pillow, “where would we be, if we could? Some alpine cabin with a bottle of good bourbon? Sunbathing in the Bahamas?”

“Mm,” she faces him fully, “is that what you had in your scrapbook?”

“My what?”

She grins and brings her hand up to cup his jaw, her thumb warm against the corner of his lips. “Your wedding scrapbook,” she whispers through her smile.

And he’s lost somewhere between the curve of her lips and the sensation of her palm against his jaw. “Maybe.”

And Kim finally pulls him in for another kiss. “Well,” she says when they part, her thumb following the curve of his lower lip, “that’s not really my department.”

“You don’t wanna go anywhere? Anywhere in the world? We could go on safari, or, or to hot springs in the snow, to Broadway, or Disneyland,” he feels her breath flutter as she laughs silently, letting him continue his imaginary itinerary, and he tightens his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. “Really? None of this?”

She opens her mouth to respond and shakes her head, as if trying to find the words. “Sure,” she settles on, grinning. “All of those. Why not.”

“Any special requests?”

Her laughter buzzes against his skin. “Hmm,” her hands snake around him, “that wherever we go, we get to stay in bed.”

Jimmy slides his hand up along her back, pressing it flat and firm between her shoulder blades. “Kim,” he tries to level a serious looking stare at her, “I can’t believe you let me list off all those options. You are right,” he swoops in to kiss her neck, “you are always right.”

#ask #my fic #mcwexler #consistency??? idk her

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daphner20 · 4 years ago

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Justice Browne

Restoration

Prologue

My name is Justice Fritzgerald Browne, and ' Truly God is good to me!” My father wanted to name me John Fritzgerald, but my mom said , “ not a day like it!”

I met the love of my life Alicia Leah (nee Dean) at a Catholic Retreat for young adults called T.E.C ( To Encounter Christ), 25 years ago. She was 19, and I was 24. We were married 6 months later. And that union has blessed us with two sons. Joshua, 20 and Jamie 18.

Joshua is a Senior at Notre Dame University, he is a bio/chemistry major, his next step is med school. Jamie is a sophomore, at Notre Dame as well, but they are on different campuses. Jamie is studying accounting. Both of my sons, graduated from High School at 16.

I am so proud of my sons, they are truly one of the joys of my life.

Almighty God, has also prospered the work of my hands. I am one of the largest grocers in The Bahamas. With 4 grocery stores in Nassau, 2 in Grand Bahama, and 1 in Abaco. I own substantial shares in a local bank and insurance company.

I am also on the Economic Council for The Bahamas. I am also the past president of the Chamber of Commerce.

When I was in CCD, as a child, I remembered Sister Cecilia, teaching us the 10 commandments, the sermon on the mount, and corporal acts of mercy. I have spent my entire life, living as closely as possible to these teachings.

My parents, were the greatest in the world. I was the product of their old age. They were married for 18 years, before I came along. My mom was forty, and my dad was 47. My mom told me that she had never stop trusting and believing that God, will bless her womb. She lived to cradle my sons in her arms. She died 10 years ago, and Daddy followed 2 years later.

As, I lit a candle after mass. I am thankful and grateful to the Lord, who has bless my family, my work, my health, and my faith all these years. I also lit a special candle for my boys, just in case they didn’t go to mass this morning, and asked God to forgive their sins.

Chapter 1

“ So you don’t have any classes today,” said Justice

“ No, they are cancel until further,” said Jaime.

“ I suggest, you go and stay with Joshua,' said Justice.

“Daddy,” said Jaime, “it’s just a tropical storm!”

“ Jamie, tropical storms can be dangerous as well,” said Justice.

“ The school has taken all precautions, we will be fine. Further more, Josh, campus is on lockdown as well,” said Jaime.

“Ok,' said Justice, reluctantly, he knew how strong will Jamie is.

'Love you Daddy,” said Jamie, laughingly, he knew his father normally gives in.

“ Love you kiddo, said Justice. ‘Youth’ muttered Justice, they think they are invincible.

5 minutes later.

“ Hello Josh” said Justice.

“ Hi Pops” said Josh animatedly.

“ I heard, about the storm, are you taking precautions.

“ Yes sir, we will be fine, you are aware, that we have been through storms before said Joshua.

“ I know, said Justice, “but it has always been with me and your mother.”

“ We will be fine, I will check on Jamie every day, don’t worry.”

“ I love you Joshua, you are a good son and great brother,” said Justice, holding back tears.

“I love you too Pops,” said Joshua, smiling, “ and turn of the water works, your too old for that.”

As Justice, hung up the phone, he realized, that he wasn’t trusting God to protect his sons.

A few days later, the weather channel, said the storm had been upgraded to a category 3. It will bring lots of rain and high gusty winds.

“I will go by church, this evening to light a candle for my boys,” said Justice in his heart.

When I got home, it was late breaking news on all the stations, that Hurricane David, had come ashore as a Category 5, and there were wide devastation.

“ Have you heard from the boys today,” I asked Alicia.

“ I spoke to them, yesterday, but they told me, that the power company was shutting down the power. They said they will call me, as soon as the power comes back on.

It’s been two days now, and still no communication from our sons. I told Alicia, that I was going to North Carolina tomorrow.

Finally, the phone rang, it was Jaime's number.

“ Jaime, thank God, son how are you? Shouted Justice.

“ This is Dr. Matthew, from Raleigh General, is this Mr. Browne? We regret to inform you that your son, Jaime Browne died two days ago. We finally charged his cellphone, and we found your number. Also, we regret to inform you that your other son Joshua Browne died this morning.

Chapter 2

“The Lord giveth, and the Lord take it away, blessed be the name of the Lord,” said Justice.

It was a bright and sunny morning, three weeks later, when I buried my boys. How could a day be so beautiful, when my children will never see it again! It’s like the world is mocking me. I am numb, I am on autopilot. I am doing everything that needs to be done, without any emotions.

I flew to North Carolina, to officially identify the boys. I had to make arrangements, to bring them home. I had to pick out the coffins. I had to decide their burial clothes. I had to choose the photos and songs for the obituary. My boys were altar boys and a part of the youth group, so every body wanted to play a role in the funeral service. There were such an outpouring of sympathy, I had to make sure they were acknowledged. Instead of two individual plots, I chose one. Joshua at the bottom, and Jaime on top.

Because, they were inseparable, growing up, they were together when they died. Joshua roommate told us, that when the storm got upgraded, Joshua decided to go and stay with Jaime. However, the storm had produced several tornadoes, and one of them had flatten Jaime’s dormitory. Jamie, the coroner believed died instantly, and Joshua died three days later.

Alicia grief is inconsolable, she is heavily medicated, I don’t know what to do. I just have to be strong, for her and my sons. My head says there are gone, my heart says they are here, and there is no reconciliation. As an accountant, this should be easy.

Just as the sun rises each morning, I must do the same. Everyone is remarking on my strength. I told them, it’s not me, but the Lord. His strength is made perfect in my weakness.

A month later, I returned to work full time, Alicia is turning the corner, she is off the sedatives. She is still profoundly sad, but that is to be expected, and she has me.

“ Mr. Browne, here are the papers, you wanted,” said Sheila my secretary.

“ Mr. Browne, Mr. Browne,” Sheila is frantic now. The last thing I heard her screaming was Call an ambulance!!

Chapter 3

Two weeks later, I woke up in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU)

I had suffered a massive stroke, I was totally paralyzed on my left side The doctors told Alicia, that my recovery will be long. Not only will I need a physical therapist, but a speech therapist as well. Another, prognosis, was that I may never fully recovered, and be a shell of a man. All of my physicians were in agreement with that!

Alicia, brought me home three weeks later. The house was completely transformed. There were ramps for my wheelchair. My study, became my hospital room. Because, I couldn’t swallow on my own, I had a drip in my arm, I was also feed intravenously, I also had to use a catheter. My care also included 3 private nurses on shifts.

Alicia had spared no expense.

My first visitor, was my oldest and dearest friend Greg Henfield, he was also my boys godfather.

“ I am sorry Justice, first the boys, now this, I have known you all my life, I can’t believe this is happening to you, you were a Saint living amongst us! What did you do, to make God so angry,” he said.

Thank God, I couldn’t speak or move, I would have kicked him out.

Next, visitor, was my lawyer, Charles Powell, “ I think you should sell your business, seeing that you have no longer have heirs, and you and Alicia can live a comfortable life, with the proceeds,”he said.

Blood in the water, thought Justice, the sharks are circling.

Finally, my father-in-law, Wilfred Dean, came. I loved him like a father. “ My daughter, can’t take anymore, first her children, now you, this is to much for her. I told her to sell your businesses and shares, and put you in a nursing home and take care of herself,” he said.

“What about our vows?” I wanted to scream, “ for better or worse, sickness and in health.”

Alicia, took his advice, she sold everything, but she didn’t leave me.

Laying in that bed day in and out, with only my thoughts. Why God, I am a good person, you took my boys, my health, my work, my friends and family. Why me?

I wish I never was born, I wish I was like a stillborn child, who never saw light. Why did you bless and then take away. I pour out my complaint and bitterness day unto day.

Until one day, The Lord Spoke!

Chapter 4

“ Who is this who darkens counsel by words without knowledge?

“ Now prepare yourself like a man; I will question you, and you shall answer Me.“ Where were you, when I laid the foundations of the earth? Who determined it’s measurements? Surely you know!

Then Justice answered ,” I know that you can do everything, and that no purpose of Yours can be withheld from you. I have heard of You by the hearing of the ear, but now my eyes see You, therefore I despise myself, and I repent in dust and ashes.

Justice didn’t realized, that he was speaking. He had gotten, his speech back. Praise the Lord.

Over, the next few months, with the help of his therapists, he regained the strength and the mobilty of his limbs. Justice Fritzgerald Browne made a full recovery and discovery.

“ Though He slay me, yet I will trust Him!” Justice said.

Alicia, had kept the life insurance benefits of the boys. With that money, he was able to purchase 10 grocery stores. And the a year later, Alicia gave birth to twin girls, Hannah, and Annah. Double grace and favor!

Justice, lived to see his children’s children.

And God bless Justice's latter, greater than his former!

The End

“

#spiritual #god #faith #hope #story #religion

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something-tofightfor · 5 years ago

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Remember What You Told Me (Part 1/2)

Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader

Word Count: 5400

Rating: M (Language, mention of sex, mentions of substance abuse/drinking)

Author’s Note: This is the continuation to Here Comes the Sun (find it on my master list).... so you’ll need to read that before diving into this one. I wanted to keep giving Logan as much happiness as possible... and everyone seemed to want me to work on Logan today, soooooo

Summary: After meeting in the Bahamas, you and Logan continue your relationship after you move to California for work... and it leads to a *very* interesting morning in Vegas.

Tag List: @banditthewriter @breanime @obscurilicious @padfootagain @madamrogersstorytelling @suchatinyinfinity @chibiyanai @songtoyou @ethereal-heavcns @editboutique @marauderskeeper @drinix @ilkaeliseb @delicatelilyflower @king4thesirens @blah-blah-fuckit-shit @ymariejp @mr-robot-x @rageshots @shinebrightlikeafanbase @littlemermaidprobz @jovialyouthmusic @zaffrenotes @introvertedlibrary @writing-for-a-chance @yesixoxo @ilikebeachessushiandsmallanimals @likeorions @swiftyhowlz@dylanobrusso @luminex3 @malik-payne @lexxierave @lynne1993 @elanor-of-imladris @bucky-is-my-precious @traeumerinwitzhelden @mfackenthal @weallhaveadestiny @ladyblablabla @sweetybuzz25 @dreamwritesimagines @thesumofmychoices @audreychaz @tc-elliot @dreams-with-thoughts @kind-wolf @ms-delos @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @the-blind-assassin-12 @benbarnestongue @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @captainblackeyes @hanoi15

Your head was pounding, and the thought of opening your eyes made you groan. How much did I drink last night? You swallowed hard, rolling onto your back and bringing your left hand up to your face. Oh my God, I need water. As the back of your hand made contact with your skin, you winced as you felt something sharp bite into your eyelid. What? Frowning, you opened your eyes a crack, seeing that the room was still semi-dark. Closed the blinds at least. But then you opened your eyes wider, still squinting, hand raised a few inches from your face. With a hiss, your eyes flew all the way open and the pounding in your head disappeared as you saw your hand.

There, on the third finger of your left hand was a ring which contained the largest diamond you’d ever seen on a shining band inlaid with smaller stones. The problem was that you’d never seen it before, and you didn’t know why you were wearing it.

Bringing your hand closer to your face, you reached up with your right index finger, touching the largest diamond and pushing against it slightly with a fingertip.

As it moved you gasped, sitting straight up and clutching the sheet to your bare chest with your left hand. It’s real. Did we… Turning your head to the right, you felt your heart pounding against your ribs. Please, oh God, please. He was sleeping on his stomach next to you, the upper half of his body visible, his skin contrasting with the darkness of his hair. You reached out with your hand, hesitating before you laid a hand on him, between his shoulder blades, running it sideways and over toward his far shoulder, squeezing gently. “Lo.” You spoke, but the words were a whisper, and you shut your eyes, taking a deep breath and swallowing. “Logan, you need to wake up.” He groaned, shifting in the bed and you cleared your throat. “Logan, c’mon. I need you to wake up.”

There was a pause, and Logan shifted again in the bed, bringing his left arm out from under the pillow. Your eyes immediately went to his hand, and you felt a sense of simultaneous relief and terror as you saw that there was no ring on his third finger. Oh holy fuck. He groaned, your name the first thing to leave his lips. You slid your hand over to the center of his back and flattened it, leaning over to kiss the back of his head, your lips getting lost in the soft strands of his sleep-mussed hair, despite your heart beating wildly in your chest. “How much did we drink last night, my head’s killing me.” He sighed as your lips moved, hovering over his ear. “Feels good, keep doin’ that.” No, Logan. I need you to…

“Logan, please. Open your eyes. Look at me.” He paused and then rolled over onto his back, using his left hand to cover his eyes in the same way you had, the ends of his long fingers rubbing at them.

“What’s wrong? Where are we?” You wanted to laugh, but instead, felt tears beginning to run down your cheeks as you brought your knees to your chest beneath the blanket, arms up and hands covering your face as you sobbed. “Why are you crying?” You shook your head, and Logan finally pulled his hand away from his face, looking up at you. “Hey, come on.” He reached up with his left hand toward you and though your eyes were filled with tears, you watched as his widened too, his hand pausing just before it touched you. “What… what’s that on your… where did you get that?”

You laughed bitterly, the sound cutting through the silence of the room and held your own hand up, fingers spread apart. “I have no idea, Logan.”

---

24 hours prior

“What are we doing for your birthday, Delos?” You were lounging on a chaise on Logan’s back deck, one knee bent and a hand behind your head. “It’s a big one, 36 years old. You’re officially over the hill.” He groaned, falling gracefully onto the chair next to yours and turning his head to look at you. “What, it’s the truth!”

“Just because you’re five years younger than me for the next few months, it doesn’t give you the right to make old man jokes.” He was pouting, and you couldn’t help but laugh, leaning over to kiss him on the mouth. “You weren’t making those jokes last night or this morning.” I was definitely not. “You still gonna want to kiss me tomorrow when I’m old and gray?” You kissed him again, your arm crossing the space between the chairs to touch his face as your tongue moved against his lower lip.

“I’m always going to want to kiss you, Logan, remember? Whenever you’ll let me… besides, you can dye your hair dark if you start to go gray. You’re rich.” You smiled as you pulled back from him, settling back onto your chair, but this time on your side so that you could look at him, watching as he snickered at your comment. “I’m serious, though, what are we going to do for your birthday? We went to Juliet and Mark’s last year, but…” You trailed off, waiting. This was the second birthday you’d be spending with Logan, and though the two of you had known each other for a little under two years, you’d only been together for just over a year and a half.

---

A chance meeting in the Bahamas had brought you together in the first place, but after four days stuck in The Cove, you and Logan had been… well, close wasn’t the correct word. Connected was a better one, because after the first night - when you’d ended up in bed together after a few hours of drinking games and an almost misadventure onto his balcony, the next few days had gone by very quickly.

You hadn’t been alone together after that first night, opting the next afternoon to walk down the stairs and to the main level of the hotel - and after finding The Cove almost deserted, hurrying through the pouring rain and wind over to the main building, where there was ample space, a generator, and absolutely no privacy. Even though this had been the case, you and Logan had learned more about each other as you wandered the hallways, watching the storm from ground level through the windows, Logan nearly always next to you and touching you in some way.

You’d slept together in one of the ballrooms, sometimes sitting between his legs as he slumped against a wall and you against him, other times on the hard floor or a flimsy mattress, his lips finding your skin as you drifted off for short periods of time with his arms around you as if letting you go would ruin his day. Though you knew very little about him outside of what he told you, the man that you were with was a very different one than you’d discovered online, and you tried to take every moment as it came, enjoying the time you had to spend with the handsome and charismatic man beside you. When the power came back on late the third day, everyone cheered, and you spent long hours with the other guests waiting for a turn to use the land lines since cell service was still out, calling to let loved ones know where you were and that you were OK.

The fourth day, after the storm had completely passed and the clean-up effort was beginning at the resort, Logan settled the bill with the hotel (he was right, and they’d comped him after he’d promised to mention them positively in an official Delos press release), rode the elevator back up with you to get your bag from your locked room, and dragged you into one of the boutiques for new outfits before the two of you took a taxi across the bridge and back to the mainland. The airport wasn’t quite swamped with travelers, but it had taken you over an hour to book a flight back home - and by the time you were ready to pass through the security checkpoint, you were exhausted.

Logan was standing next to you, but when you motioned for him to walk through with you, he shook his head, a small frown on his lips. “What, didn’t you get a flight back yet?” He sighed, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair and then over his chin, which was covered in a thick beard since he hadn’t had access to a razor in days.

“I was supposed to be home four days ago, and apparently the Delos board is very… impatient with me.” He shrugged his shoulders. “They’re sending our jet to get me, and I have paperwork I need to go over and a conference call that apparently can’t wait another minute.” Oh. “My father was… worried about me, and…” Logan shook his head, swearing under his breath. “I’m not used to that, and halfway think it’s just to save face, but…” He shrugged again. “So I have to get another car and go to the private airfield, and…” He trailed off. “This is goodbye.” He smiled, but it was tight-lipped and Logan stepped forward again, his hand going up to your shoulder. “These past four days have been…” He sighed. “A few years ago, I wouldn’t have said that I deserved them, but now I’m starting to think that maybe I really do deserve some good things like you in my life.”

“It was nice meeting you, Logan.” You licked your lips, offering him a smile and holding out your hand, though you hoped he wouldn’t take it. “Thank you again for giving me a place to -” You were cut off as he stepped forward, his arms going around you and his head ducking down as he kissed you - hard. It was different from the kisses in the hotel room and the lobby, different from the way he’d touched you previously. Logan was saying goodbye to you in his way, and you had to accept it for what it was. When he broke the kiss, he didn’t pull away, instead nudging your face to the side with his nose, lips close to your ear.

“What’s your phone number?” He spoke in a quiet voice as his hands tightened on you, fingers massaging the skin of your back, bare in the sundress you wore, again courtesy of him. “Gimmie your number so that we can keep in touch.” You hadn’t expected him to ask - hadn’t expected it to be more than a few days of fun with him - the CEO of one of world’s largest and most successful tech companies, and yet you’d recited the number for him, watching as he entered it into his phone. “I’ll get in touch with you, I promise.” Nodding, you kissed him one final time, trying to memorize the way he tasted and squeezing his hand as you turned toward the gate and away from him nearly five days after you’d met him.

But you hadn’t heard from Logan for the first week after you returned home and as the days passed, you became less and less certain that you ever would. Logan might have been different with you on the island, but maybe it wasn’t the truth, maybe it was just a product of your circumstances. So you’d gone about your life as usual, getting back to work and finalizing the details of your transfer to California, which would take place the week after Thanksgiving, giving you just under a month and a half left in the midwest. Three weeks after your trip to the Bahamas - and one week before the wedding you’d traveled to celebrate, you caught a news story about Delos as you packed your apartment, your eyes immediately going to the TV screen as you saw a picture of Logan’s face, followed by a video clip of him speaking at an event.

Heart pounding, you’d watched him talk - going on about the new direction that Delos would be taking in the coming years, the efforts they were going to make to increase their global presence, the ways that they’d be improving their technology. The clip that followed it showed Logan at the same event, on the arm of a redhead in a dark gray dress, his hand low on her back. So that’s why he didn’t call. With a sigh, you shook your head, turning the TV off and returning to your boxes. He didn’t give you his number for a reason, just wanted to give you hope that those days weren’t for nothing. Though Logan seemed to have changed in terms of his prior behaviors and his image when it came to Delos, it appeared that he hadn’t been above another fling - and you’d been the unfortunate (but entirely willing) victim.

A week later, your phone rang as you were on your laptop, finalizing the details for the moving truck and you answered it without thinking. “Did you move yet?” He didn’t bother with a greeting, and your eyes flew all the way open, gripping your phone tighter. Logan? “It’s… Logan. Logan Delos. We met in the Bahamas.” How could I forget?

“Hi, Logan.” You sighed, shaking your head. “No, I didn’t move yet.” He took a breath on the other end, and you spoke quickly. “I didn’t think you were going to call, Logan, I saw you on TV at that event last week with that woman, and figured -”

“Yeah, she’s a friend of my sister Juliet’s.” He spoke quickly. “We go to Delos events together all the time, she’s my stand in when I don’t want to find a date or worry about being seen with someone that will cause a scene.” He laughed. “We’ve been going to functions together for years.” Your heart lightened slightly, but before you could speak, Logan did again. “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner, that extended vacation really put a kink into a bunch of shit, and we had to sort it all out.” He groaned. “I’ve barely had time to sleep, I’ve been working fourteen or fifteen hour days.”

“That’s what happens when you’re the boss, right?” He laughed, agreeing. “You don’t owe me an explanation, Logan, it’s fine. We got caught in a hurricane together, that warranted those few days… nothing more.”

“What, you don’t want to see me again?” He sounded curious, the laughter gone. “I was calling to see if you were out here yet, you never said when you were moving… or where to, and…”

“I’ll be in Long Beach, Logan. Week after Thanksgiving.” He groaned. “Why?”

“That’s an hour from me. But you still didn’t answer me - do you want to see me again?” There was concern in his voice along with the curiosity. “I thought that…”

“Of course I do, Logan.” It slipped out before you could stop yourself, and you flinched. Idiot. “I just didn’t think you…”

“Let me know when you’re coming in, where you’re staying.” He sighed. “I’ll send over a housewarming present.” He took a deep breath. “I really am sorry. I should have texted, but I was really busy, and I didn’t know what to say. ‘Hey, it’s Logan, remember when we hooked up in that storm and then spent three days sleeping in a room with fifty other people?’ I’ve used a lot of pick up lines, but that’d be a new one for me.” Finally feeling more at ease with him, the conversation continued long into the night, packing forgotten.

---

Over the following three weeks, you and Logan stayed in contact, sending messages back and forth, talking every few days, and true to his word, when you’d arrived at your apartment in Long Beach, there had been Logan’s version of a housewarming present waiting: a brand new Delos Home Integration System - already set up. You’d called as soon as you entered the condo, hearing a chirp along with a friendly female voice welcoming you home - by name. The fuck is this?

“It learns you, works with the electrical system and the network. Learns your habits and your routine.” Logan sounded proud. “Landlord let us in to install it before they changed the locks for you. Let me come over and show you how it works?” Oh, Logan. But you’d agreed, and he’d stopped over the following day, bottle of Bahamian rum in his hands, and had spent two hours walking you through the use of the system - something he’d had a hand in designing.

“Replaced all of the lightbulbs with Delos Intelligent Bulbs, you’ve got surround sound that will hook up into the TV, there’s a unit in each room, and they’re all speakers and microphones…” Logan pointed out the larger units in both bedrooms, the kitchen and living room, and the smaller ones in the bathroom, basement and outside on the balcony. “You can ask them to do anything - tell you the weather, get you directions, control the temperature, look up information, play music… you can even connect the system to your phone and make and take calls through it.”

“Jesus, Logan, normal people give a bottle of wine or some coasters as a housewarming gift, this thing has to be worth…”

“Thousands.” He shrugged. “We’re still working on them, trying to perfect the whole thing, and you’re testing it out for us, any errors automatically get sent back to our servers.” He grinned, one hand running over his neatly trimmed beard. “Really, you’re doing Delos a favor. Also, I brought you a bottle of rum too, so…” You smacked him on the arm playfully and he caught your hand, pulling you close. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you sooner. I wanted to.” He’s trying to make up for it. His hand tightened on your arm, and you shook your head.

“It’s fine, Logan.” You watched as his tongue came out, wetting his lips. “Thank you.” You looked around, imagining what the place was going to look like when all of your stuff was unpacked. “It’s a great start. I’ll think of you every time I use it.”

“That’s what I was going for,” he smirked as he leaned in, lips finding your cheek. “Coulda given it my voice, I recorded for it as the male voice option, since a few women have told me my voice is something else, but I thought that would be creepy.” Instead of pushing him away you turned your head, lips meeting his briefly. “Oh?” He pulled back, one eyebrow raised. “You gonna kiss me every time I bring you a highly experimental and expensive piece of technology that’s got my name on it?” Instead of answering, you just shook your head back and forth, rising onto your toes and nipping at his lower lip. Why be coy about it?

“I’ll kiss you as often as you’ll let me, Logan Delos.”

---

He looked at you silently from his own chair, a smile on his lips as he thought. “We could go to Vegas?” He sounded hopeful, and you inhaled. “We haven’t been on vacation since we went to Napa for Christmas last year, it would be fun.” You frowned, sitting up and crossing your legs on the chair. “We can take the jet?” You knew that he was serious when he mentioned the Delos jet, and cocked your head to the side.

“You want to go to Vegas for your birthday, Lo?” He nodded, sitting up. “Alright. I’ll need to go pack, but-”

“What, you mean go into our room that’s five feet away and throw some stuff into an overnight bag?” He leaned forward, his hand on your knee. “Sometimes I think you forget that you live with me now.” He’s not wrong. “I’ll call and charter the jet, will you pack a bag for me, too?” You nodded, smiling at him.

“Hey, Logan?” You waited until he stood, one hand on the glass door leading back inside to speak. When he turned around to look at you, you took a breath. “I didn’t get you anything yet. I had to order your gift, and it’s not here -”

“You did, though.” He smiled, but it was a soft one, one that was almost embarrassed. “You moved in with me, and … that’s enough of a gift.” You felt your face turning red and ducked your head, hearing him clear his throat as he walked into the house, leaving you to look at the ocean in silence. Moving in with Logan had seemed like a logical step to you, but you’d been shocked when he had asked - almost as shocked when he’d invited you to the Delos Christmas party less than a month after you moved to California, or out for dinner on Valentine’s Day a few weeks later, but you hadn’t been as surprised by any of that as you had been when Logan offered you a position at Delos - working with Juliet - one that you couldn’t turn down.

During those first few months, you and Logan had gotten to know each other better, going out together, spending time at each other’s houses...and you’d gotten to know the real Logan, the man that he’d worked his entire life to be, yet was afraid to show the world. There’d been some hiccups, of course - paparazzi taking pictures of the two of you while you were out, digging up information about you and your past, using the terms “fling” and “flavor of the month” and “gold digger” in headlines, speculating on and recapping Logan’s earlier years - but he’d let you know every day that none of them were true and that he was a different person than he had been. In fact, up until the moment that Logan had said he wanted to be with you, he hadn’t tried to take you to bed again, had actually stopped your advances on him. “I’m not that guy anymore. You’re not… that to me. I’m gonna show you I’m serious.” You hadn’t seen the issue with being with him since you’d been together in the Bahamas, but you respected Logan and what he was trying to do - it was more for him than for you, and after everything he’d been through, you couldn’t take that away from him.

A year after making things official, Logan offered you the position at Delos. It was basically the same job you’d been doing previously, but the pay was much better, and it meant that you’d no longer be living almost an hour away from him. That had caused an argument, with you not wanting to be seen as someone trying to make a name for themselves off of the Delos name or off of Logan’s status and your relationship with him, but he’d laughed, telling you that Juliet and her department had been talking about you almost non-stop, that if he hadn’t reached out, she would have… and so you’d accepted.

You’d stayed with him while looking for a place closer to the Delos compound in Thousand Oaks, but after a month of searching, Logan finally sat you down, taking your hands in his and taking a deep breath as his thumbs moved over the backs of your hands. “You should just move in here with me.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head back and forth. “I want you to move in here, I like having you here with me.” Your eyes widened, but he continued. “You’ve dealt with a lot because of me, and it hasn’t phased you one bit. I want you around all the time.” He was being honest with you, and you heard in his voice what it would mean to him to have you there… so you’d agreed to that, too.

As you moved through the bedroom you shared, picking out clothes and folding them carefully into an overnight bag for each of you, you hummed under your breath, smiling. His birthday in Vegas. Oh, Logan. Things were going well for the two of you, your job was perfect, and you loved him. Hearing those words from Logan’s mouth for the first time had felt like all of the air had been sucked from your lungs - like it was just the two of you in the world, and there was nothing that could ever compare to it, though each subsequent time he said it, there was no lessening of the impact, no change in the way that it made you feel - that he made you feel.

---

You were on the beach, laying on your stomach in a black bikini while Logan lounged next to you, laying on his back with his eyes closed. Though the water was still too cold to swim, you and Logan were taking advantage of a few nice days, where the temperature had hovered in the 80’s and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Coming up on your year anniversary, you and Logan were getting along well. This was despite the fact that there were still times when you ran into reminders of his past, women that he’d been with, pictures of him at his lowest, anniversaries of things like his trip to Westworld with William, or the day he’d overdosed and had to be rushed to the hospital … but you’d gotten through all of it. “The first year will be the hardest, Logan,” you’d said to him, holding him and stroking your fingers over his arms. “It’s not the first year for you, but it’s the first year with me here with you… you’re not alone anymore, Logan, and we’ll get through it. Together.”

He’d tried to keep a positive outlook, but had jumped at the chance to get back outdoors once the weather changed, responding to your suggestion for an early season beach day with so much enthusiasm it was like he was a kid again. The sound of the waves and the seagulls were lulling you to sleep, and by the soft breathing of Logan next to you, you knew he was already almost gone - more relaxed than you’d seen him in weeks. Scooting closer to him, you kissed him on his bare shoulder, watching as a smile tugged on his lips. “What are you doin’?” He questioned you sleepily, turning his head to face you and opening his eyes. “I was dreaming about you.” The bridge of his nose was red and his cheeks were too, the sun’s rays doing their work, and you smiled at Logan, leaning down to kiss him properly as you pushed his hair away from his face. He hummed against your lips, and when you pulled away, his hand rose, fingers combing through your windblown hair. “But then I woke up an’ you were here anyway, so it’s even better.”

“Oh, Logan.” You pressed your lips together, propping yourself up on one elbow as he turned onto his side, his hand moving down your body and settling on your hip, the index finger sliding beneath the strap of your suit bottoms. “You - “

He smiled at you, fingers curling against your hip. “You know I love you, right?” The words hit you like a bolt of lightning, and your jaw dropped. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you, but…” He locked eyes with you, suddenly wide awake. “I love you.” You were dumbfounded, unable to speak to him, but sure that if you didn’t say anything, everything would be ruined. Say it back. You know you want to.

“I… Logan, I love you too.” He let his breath out in a whoosh, leaning in to kiss you, his lips trailing over your throat’s sun-kissed skin after leaving your mouth, and he whispered the words to you again under his breath. “So much, Logan.”

Just under two months later, he’d offered you the job, and a month after that, you’d moved in with Logan...and the rumors and gossip had returned in full force.

---

12 hours prior

Logan watched as you finished pinning your hair onto the top of your head, your arms bent at the elbow, fingers gracefully moving through the long strands. Damn. Never seen that dress before. He stepped closer, one hand tucked into his pocket, the other moving through his own hair. You watched him in the mirror, eyes following his movements as he stopped behind you, and Logan removed the hand from his pocket, curling his right arm around your waist and pulling you back against him. “You look amazing.” He whispered the words into your ear before settling his lips on the skin of your neck, sucking gently. “I’m the luckiest guy in this city.” You laughed, your body shaking against his, and Logan tightened his hold on you.

“What are we doing tonight, Delos?” You turned your head, your hands dropping to rest against his forearm, and Logan grinned. “I know that look.”

“What?” He smirked at you, using his free hand to turn you so that you were facing him before lowering his hands back to your waist, fingers tightening against your hips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You rolled your eyes at him, and Logan couldn’t help but lean in and kiss you again, grip tightening on you. Your arms moved so that they were around his neck, and Logan stepped forward, pushing your back against the mirror. You sighed into his mouth, fingers moving against his scalp and Logan groaned, lowering his hands further, his own fingertips finding the bare skin of your thighs much sooner than he’d thought. “You really gonna go out in this?” He nearly growled the words, feigning anger. “This dress is almost indecent, and -”

“That’s why I picked it, Logan.” You tightened your fingers in his hair, speaking only after barely pulling your mouth away from his. “Wanted to give you something nice to look at on your birthday.” He laughed, bunching the fabric of the dress up around your waist and returning his fingers to your bare skin, squeezing as he urged your hips closer to his.

“Me looking isn’t the problem, darlin’.” He lowered his mouth, teeth grazing your shoulder and was rewarded with a sigh from you, your hand gripping his arm tightly. “It’s all those other people I’m worried about.” You pulled his hair hard, breaking him out of his thoughts and he straightened back up, looking at you - but not letting go. “What was that for?”

“They always, look, Lo.” You were still smiling, but he hated the look in your eyes, hated the truth in your words. “Even before I knew you, they were watching you… and now they’re watching me, too.” You shrugged, and Logan finally loosened his grip, your dress falling back into place as he brought a hand up to your face, fingers barely touching your cheek. “Let ‘em look, Logan. I don’t care about them, and you shouldn’t either.” He knew what you were trying to do - he’d had his fair share of unpleasant media attention, though the past few years had been much better - but he still got lost sometimes, especially when people dredged up his past, was still worried that even though Delos was his and William was long gone, something was going to happen to destroy everything he’d worked for, taking everything from him in one fell swoop - including you.

“Fine.” He grinned, watching as your eyes darkened at the expression on his face, lips parting as you sucked in a breath. “Fine, let ‘em look.” He lowered his head again, breath hot against your cheek and he felt you shiver as he spoke. “But I’m the only one that gets to touch.” You agreed with him, voice low, and as Logan kissed you again, one hand cupping your cheek, he brought the other to his pants pocket, fingers tracing the outline of the small box inside of it. Forever.

---

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sophieakatz · 5 years ago

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Thursday Thoughts: Hurricane Relief

I’m trying to write something about hurricane recovery and the standards we hold ourselves to, but right now it isn’t really working. Perhaps I should just describe the piece I want to write and leave it at that.

It would open with me describing the breakroom at work, where we had the TV constantly on the storm-watching news as Hurricane Dorian smashed up the Bahamas. Ultimately the storm would pass us by, but for several days it was all that anyone could talk about.

Then I’d mention something I heard a coworker say – that things were bad in the Bahamas because they didn’t have the infrastructure to handle it, but here in the contiguous United States, we do.

Here’s where the piece gets muddled for me, because after I heard that, my gut said, “But do we, though?” The truth is that I’m not informed enough about this issue, and frankly, I don’t want to be. I spent those days in the breakroom with my eyes on my phone, not wanting to look at the destruction on the TV screen. I’d stocked up on nonperishables and I had a bag packed just in case I did need to evacuate, but I didn’t really think it would get to that point, and ultimately it didn’t. I don’t like to think about natural disasters when I don’t have to.

But I don’t believe that we have the infrastructure to deal with disasters. If we do, we’re not using it, and an infrastructure that can’t be used effectively might as well not exist.

The storms we’re facing today are worse, and more frequent, than the storms that the world used to get. I haven’t even been on Earth for three decades yet, but despite my tendency towards optimism, I believe the older generations when they tell me that.

I’ve been plenty lucky in my life as far as storms go. I grew up in the Midwest and never really suffered the effects of a tornado. I’ve now been through two hurricanes and the lights haven’t even flickered. And it is so, so easy for human beings to look at your own situation and think that it applies to everyone. “I’m fine,” we think, “so everyone else must be fine, too. And if they’re not fine, then they’re doing something wrong.”

But for weeks after Irma, I had several coworkers who had to shower at work because their homes still didn’t have running water restored yet. I was fine, but they were not. And it doesn’t make sense to me to think that they had done something wrong. Storms either hit you or they don’t; a tornado can flatten one block and leave the next one untouched. It doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. But we’re all in the same country, right? So, shouldn’t we have had the same infrastructure supporting us? Why was this discrepancy an acceptable reality?

When Hurricane Maria hit Puerto Rico, there was a lot of talk in the news and on the internet about how we weren’t doing enough to help. Did we ever actually step it up? Or did we just stop talking about it? And while I’m on this train of thought, did Flint, Michigan ever get clean water? (NPR says “yes and no”) And why has that gone on so long?

This week’s Thursday Thoughts is a ramble. I’ve accepted it.

I’m not a politician. I’m not a scientist. I’m certainly not a billionaire. I just don’t see how, if we are a united nation, that suffering in any part of our nation is tolerable.

I get it, it’s hard to think about bad things happening to other people. Like I said, I’m not looking up hurricane footage, because I really don’t want those pictures in my head. Being able to go about our lives even though horrible stuff is happening in the world is one of our greatest superpowers. It is very difficult to make a human die of grief, and we can and should be grateful for that.

Maybe the reason why I’m having trouble writing this is that I’m not sure what point I want to make. I just think that a system that fails anyone is a system that fails. I don’t know what to do about it. But I believe that it’s important to talk about it.

Anyway, if this makes any sense or is interesting at all, reply to the tweet or reblog the post with a comment to turn this ramble into a conversation.

#thursday thoughts #social justice #hurricane dorian #infrastructure

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mydaisyuniverse · 5 years ago

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bountyofbeads · 5 years ago

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How One Bahamian Town, Nearly Destroyed, Is Coping After Dorian https://www.nytimes.com/2019/09/06/world/americas/bahamas-abaco-hurricane-damage.html

How One Bahamian Town, Nearly Destroyed, Is Coping After Dorian

By Kirk Semple |Published Sept. 6, 2019 Updated 11:40 a.m. ET | New York Times | Posted September 6, 2019 |

Leer en español

TREASURE CAY, Bahamas — Since Hurricane Dorian plowed through Stafford Symonette’s house, and with it much of his community of Treasure Cay, he has stopped by from time to time to visit the ruins of his home.

What he hasn’t been able to bring himself to do, he said, is sift through the debris for his belongings.

“I am not ready,” he said softly, as he sat down on the toppled trunk of a palm tree.

Much like residents in other communities across the northern Bahamas, Mr. Symonette and his neighbors in Treasure Cay, on Great Abaco Island, were only just starting on Thursday to come to terms with the scale of their loss and to make sense of it all.

Evidence of that destruction was everywhere:the wasteland where a Haitian community once stood. A 45-foot shipping container mangled like a piece of aluminum foil. A Baptist church made of concrete blocks that now stood roofless, open to the heavens.

Some 95 percent of Treasure Cay’s homes were damaged or destroyed. The storm knocked out its utilities, leaving the community without power, water or communication. One resident was killed and others were injured, some seriously enough to need emergency evacuation.

“It’s going to be a long haul,” said Steve Pedican, 58, a longtime resident.

Since Hurricane Dorian struck the Bahamas on Sunday night as a Category 5 storm, at least 30 people have died and thousands have been left homeless. Officials fear the death toll could rise substantially once they have better knowledge of the extent of the damage on the ground.

[See Hurricane Dorian in Pictures]

Treasure Cay seemed to be facing the disaster with a resignation that some residents attributed to two things: a deep religiousness among the Bahamian population, and a longstanding familiarity with hurricanes.

The community is in some ways typical of many others in the Bahamas: an amalgam of native-born Bahamians, mostly absentee foreign homeowners, tourists and migrants from elsewhere in the Caribbean, mainly Haitians.

The settlement, laid out on a peninsula scalloped with beautiful white-sand beaches, was created in the mid-20th century as a resort for foreigners, mainly Americans, residents said.

More recently, Bahamians have bought into the resort. Others live on its outskirts.

Treasure Cay’s population ranges between several hundred and several thousand, depending on who is counting and who is being counted.

Stephanie Hield, 63, the chairwoman of the local governing council, said about 450 Bahamian residents were there. But the full population can swell to multiples of that during peak vacation season. And if Haitian immigrants, many of them undocumented, are also included, the count leaps further.

Since the storm, residents have been doing a nerve-racking accounting, surveying surrounding settlements for their relatives, friends and acquaintances.

Lacking contact with the outside world and working phone lines, people have had to revert to word of mouth to pass on what little is known. On Wednesday, while waiting for the arrival of emergency supplies at a small landing strip near Treasure Cay, Ms. Hield, and Bridgette Chase, 50, a customs officer, compared notes.

“Everybody’s accounted for in Man-O-War,” Ms. Chase said, referring to a nearby cay.

“Everybody’s accounted for in Grand Cay,” Ms. Hield added. “Everybody accounted for on Turtle Cay.”

Though Coast Guard helicopters evacuated some injured residents earlier this week, the first planes carrying medical teams, volunteers and emergency supplies like water, food and chain saws began arriving at the settlement’s landing strip on Wednesday.

Scores of Haitians had flocked to the airport after hearing a rumor that there were going to be evacuations.

“We were told to come to the airport to evacuate so we could find a better place to stay,” said Kalisa Lubin, 21. But most were unable to get out.

Mr. Symonette, an evangelical pastor, was also at the landing strip. He had arrived at 7 a.m., driven more by faith than solid information, to wait for a plane he hoped would be sent by an American evangelical group. He sat on an upturned paint bucket, in the lee of a building that had once been the airport’s fire station.

The hurricane had stripped the fire station of its roof, and turned its contents into a jumble of furniture, construction material and office equipment. Trees surrounding the airport, like forests across the island, were mostly stripped of their leaves and leaning hard toward the West, raked over by the wind.

Private jets arrived throughout the day, disgorging supplies and volunteers, but not the one Mr. Symonette was waiting for.

As dusk approached, he offered to drive a reporter around the settlement. Since the storm, he had not ventured into town, staying mostly at the home of friends where he and his family sought shelter after the hurricane.

At Mr. Symonette’s home, he described how he and his family had tried to weather the storm. As the house was pulled apart, he recalled, they fled to an S.U.V. parked outside. But then the house’s roof fell on the S.U.V. so they shifted to a bigger S.U.V., where they spent the next few hours.

“It’s a miracle we’re even talking,” he said.

Mr. Symonette, who was raised in Nassau and moved to Treasure Cay about 50 years ago, drove through the community slowly, mostly in silence, occasionally pointing out landmarks.

“That was the primary school,” Mr. Symonette said. “This was a restaurant here. That was one under construction there.”

The landscape had been rearranged to such a degree, with one heap of debris indistinguishable from the next, that Mr. Symonette at times got disoriented, mistaking one cluster of homes for another.

“Wow,” Mr. Symonette muttered.

A group of men sat by the roadside near the wreckage of a Haitian community called Sand Banks.

“Pastor, how you doing?” one called out.

“I’m all right,” Mr. Symonette replied.

“Thank God for life,” the man said.

“Thank God for life.”

Mr. Symonette had one more thing to check out: the evangelical church where he was once the pastor. He had overseen its construction, which took seven years.

When it came into view, Mr. Symonette was visibly relieved. It was a tall, sturdy-looking building, and except for some pieces of roofing that had sheared off, it seemed to have survived the storm well.

Even the 20-foot-high cross that soared upward from the top of the facade remained in place, a fact that Mr. Symonette noted with satisfaction.

In Bahamas, a Blind Father Wades to Safety, His Disabled Son on His Shoulders

By Rachel Knowles | Published Sept. 5, 2019 Updated Sept. 6, 2019, 11:50 a.m. ET | New York Times | Posted September 6, 2019 4:55 PM ET |

NASSAU, the Bahamas — The roof had blown clean off. Outside, the ocean surged, swallowing the land. Brent Lowe knew he had to escape — and take his 24-year-old son, who has cerebral palsy and can’t walk, with him.

But Mr. Lowe had another problem. He’s blind.

So he put his grown son on his shoulders, then stepped off his porch, he said. The swirling current outside came up to his chin.

“It was scary, so scary,” said Mr. Lowe, 49.

Clutching neighbors, he said he felt his way to the closest home still standing. It was five minutes — an eternity — away.

Stories of unlikely survival have slowly emerged in the days since Hurricane Dorian hit the Bahamas, pummeling the islands of Grand Bahama and Abaco for days before moving toward the Atlantic Seaboard.

While the damage has been visible from above, the full human toll is still far from certain, with 30 deaths confirmed so far and the authorities warning that the real number may be much higher.

The death count “could be staggering,” said Dr. Duane Sands, the minister of health, who updated the toll late Thursday.

Some neighborhoods have been reduced to rubble, almost entirely flattened by the storm. In others, 95 percent of homes have been damaged or destroyed.

Thousands of people are now homeless, taking refuge in gymnasiums or churches, and the authorities are bracing for an influx of bodies as the extent of the destruction becomes clear.

[See Hurricane Dorian in Pictures]

“We are embalming bodies so that we have more capacity as new bodies are brought in,” Dr. Sands said. “We need to get coolers into Abaco and Grand Bahama, because we believe that we may not have the capacity to store the bodies.”

Sandra Cooke, a resident of Nassau, the capital, said her sister-in-law had been trapped under a collapsed roof in the Abaco Islands.

At first, her brother couldn’t find his wife — then the family dog detected her in the rubble. When there was a break in the storm, neighbors helped free her.

“She was trapped under the roof for 17 hours,” said Ms. Cooke. She hired a private helicopter service to bring the rescued woman to Nassau, she said.

When Hurricane Dorian first made landfall on Sunday, Mr. Lowe recalled, all of its fury seemed to bear down on him.

The storm raging outside was one of the most powerful ever to sweep through the Atlantic. Its eye was approaching and the group of eight people inside Mr. Lowe’s cement house was particularly vulnerable.

In addition to Mr. Lowe and his disabled son, neighbors whose homes had already been destroyed were also sheltering there. Among them were two children.

As the storm howled around them, Mr. Lowe said, the roof began to lift off, then slap back down. Abaco withstood sustained winds of up to 185 miles per hour that day, with gusts that reached 220 miles per hour. The group sought safety in the bathroom, where they huddled together and prayed, hoping for relief. Mr. Lowe’s son was nestled inside the bathtub, he said.

That’s when the roof flew away.

Exposed to the elements, each person had to step out into the storm. They clung to each other and set out to find refuge.

“I’ve never experienced anything like that in my life,” said Mr. Lowe, who is no stranger to hurricanes but said he could never have imagined the terror of that day.

The group reached a neighbor’s home. Mr. Lowe and his son hunkered down there for a day until a rescue bus was able to pick them up on Monday and take them to a shelter.

On Tuesday night, he was evacuated to Nassau, where Mr. Lowe can get the dialysis treatment he needs three times a week. His son had to stay in Abaco, in the care of Mr. Lowe’s sister-in-law, he said.

“I came here with the clothes that I had on from Saturday,” he said.

Although Mr. Lowe and his son are now safe, his ordeal is, in some ways, only beginning.

He didn’t know if his eldest daughter made it through the storm, he said. The phone lines have been down for days and communication with Abaco is very difficult.

“Right before we had the wind, I spoke with her,” he said. “I wish I could have been able to call and ask somebody, you know, because I really was worried about them. I was worried about everybody.”

So many people have been pushed from their homes by the hurricane that in Marsh Harbour, the main town on Abaco, as many as 2,000 people were seeking shelter in a clinic and a government complex. Officials warned that tent cities might have to be set up to accommodate the many survivors.

There are also environmental concerns. The Norwegian energy company Equinor said an oil storage terminal on the island of Grand Bahama had been damaged. The terminal was leaking, the company said, though it was too early to tell how much oil had spilled.

From the air, the storage tanks appeared to have no lids. The domed tops of five of tanks were “gone,” a company spokesman said.

Bahamian officials urged their citizens to be unified.

“There are no words to convey the grief we feel for our fellow Bahamians in the Abacos and Grand Bahama,” Dionisio D’Aguilar, the tourism and aviation minister, said in a statement. “Now is the time to come together for our brothers and sisters in need, and help our country get back on its feet.”

Like many of his neighbors, Mr. Lowe is now homeless. After a lifetime on the outskirts of Marsh Harbour — where he raised a family and worked as a butcher in a fish house until he lost his eyesight to diabetes — his home, his community and everything he built has been obliterated.

Still, Mr. Lowe wants to return to Abaco.

“I have to go,” he said. “That’s where my family is. My kids are there, my brothers, my sisters, they’re all there.”

But he is unsure of its future. The damage is catastrophic.

In the area where he lived, “90 percent of the houses are compromised,” he said. “I’m talking about roofs gone, houses totally collapsed everywhere.”

He added, “I’m just wondering where we’re going to live when I go back home, what I’m going to do.”

Death Toll Rises to 30 in Bahamas, as Stories of Survival Emerge

By Rachel Knowles and Frances Robles |

Published Sept. 5, 2019 | New York Times | Posted September 6, 2019 |

NASSAU, Bahamas — Days after Hurricane Dorian bore down in fury on the Bahamas, leaving at least 30 people dead and thousands homeless, harrowing stories of survival have begun to emerge.

Sandra Cooke, a resident of Nassau, the capital, said her sister-in-law had been trapped under a collapsed roof in the Abaco Islands. At first, her brother couldn’t find his wife, but the family dog eventually detected her in the rubble. When there was a break in the storm, neighbors helped free her.

Ms. Cooke was reunited with her sister-in-law on Tuesday.

“She was trapped under the roof for 17 hours,” said Ms. Cooke on Wednesday, adding that she had hired a private helicopter service to bring the rescued woman to Nassau.

[Here’s how to help Hurricane Dorian survivors in the Bahamas.]

But officials fear that as the picture on the ground becomes clearer, the death toll could rise.

The death count “could be staggering” said Dr. Duane Sands, the Bahamas’ minister of health, on Thursday.

Dr. Sands said that there were already four undertakers working on Abaco Island, the largest island on the Abaco Islands, and that he did not know if more would be needed.

“We are embalming bodies so that we have more capacity as new bodies are brought in,” he said. “We need to get coolers into Abaco and Grand Bahama, because we believe that we may not have the capacity to store the bodies.”

Marvin Dames, the minister of national security, said at a news conference on Wednesday night that the process of clearing the streets and making airports available had already begun on the Abaco Islands and on Grand Bahama, the two areas of the archipelago hit hardest by the hurricane, one of the strongest Atlantic storms on record.

Aerial footage taken over the Abacos showed roads washed away and debris scattered across beaches. Splintered wood jutted from clusters of damaged homes.

Gaining access to Marsh Harbour, the largest city on Abaco Island, has been problematic, with the airport, Leonard M. Thompson International, left underwater for days after the storm. Like Ms. Cooke, other people also resorted to private companies to help in the evacuations.

A British Navy vessel is stationed near Marsh Harbour for relief support and has been distributing food and water.

There are no official estimates of the number of people displaced by the storm. But in Marsh Harbour, as many as 2,000 people were seeking shelter in a clinic and a government complex.

“Already we have begun the process of evacuating people from Abaco into New Providence,” Dr. Sands said. New Providence is the island where Nassau is located. “Those airlifts have started.”

He said some evacuees were being sent to the Kendall G.L. Isaacs National Gymnasium in Nassau, but that additional shelters would have to be identified.

Dr. Sands also said it was possible that tent cities would be set up on Abaco Island.

The Norwegian energy company Equinor said the hurricane had damaged its oil storage terminal in South Riding Point on the island of Grand Bahama. The terminal was leaking, the company said, but it was too early to tell how much oil had spilled.

During a flight Wednesday over the terminal The New York Times saw storage tanks that appeared to have no lid. The domed tops of five of its tanks were “gone,” a company spokesman said, but only three contained significant amounts of oil before the hurricane.

Oil was visible on the ground surrounding the tanks, but the seawater around the terminal was clear.

“Ahead of the hurricane we shut down the terminal as a precautionary measure and the terminal has been designed with hurricanes and storms in mind,” said Erik Haaland, a company spokesman. “The areas surrounding the tanks are also designed as barriers to contain oil spills. So far we have not received information that oil has been observed at sea.”

Some areas near the terminal had been evacuated at the request of local authorities. The company was still trying to establish a better overview of the terminal and said it was “mounting a safe and timely response to the situation.”

“While weather conditions on the island have improved, road conditions and flooding continue to impact our ability to assess the situation and the scope of damages to the terminal and its surroundings,” the statement said.

No Equinor employees were at the terminal when the storm passed. Equinor, formerly known as Statoil, said it shut down operations of the terminal at noon last Saturday in preparation for the hurricane. The workers were given time off to look after their families and secure their private homes, the statement said.

The storm made landfall in the Bahamas on Sunday as a Category 5 hurricane and stalled there for three days, inundating the islands and destroying homes and businesses.

In the days since, the storm has weakened significantly, and by Thursday morning was swirling off the coast of the Carolinas as a Category 3 hurricane. Residents there were bracing for dangerous rain, winds and storm surge.

In the Bahamas, officials made pleas for support and prayers from the international community.

He urged travelers to visit areas in the Bahamas that were not affected by the storm in order to aid the country’s economic recovery.

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