Back Birds in Fall
Chapters (35)
  1. Cover
  2. Colophon
  3. Also by Brad Kessler
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. I
  8. One
  9. Two
  10. Three
  11. Four
  12. Five
  13. Six
  14. Seven
  15. Eight
  16. Nine
  17. Ten
  18. II
  19. Eleven
  20. Twelve
  21. Thirteen
  22. Fourteen
  23. Fifteen
  24. Sixteen
  25. III
  26. Seventeen
  27. Eighteen
  28. Nineteen
  29. Twenty
  30. Twenty-One
  31. Twenty-Two
  32. Twenty-Three
  33. In April, he perched on a witch hazel. . .
  34. In Gratitude
  35. About the Author

He poured himself coffee from a glass pot.

My brother heard that Caginish is all flooded. I’ll bet the ferries won’t run today.

Probably not, Kevin replied.

Oh, that Red Cross woman’s in the office, she pointed with the spatula. She asked to use your phone.

She’s here bright and early, Kevin remarked.

Uh-hmm, Sheila said and flipped a strip of bacon in the pan.

Mrs. McIntyre sat at Kevin’s desk beside the lamp. She cupped the receiver when he entered.

Sorry, I took the liberties, my cell phone—

I know, Kevin interrupted, it’s fine, go ahead.

Thanks, she whispered.

She went back to the phone. He tried not to listen. She was talking about the ferry and the trip to the naval yard. When she hung up, she stood and bit her lip and looked toward the window.

They say the ferries might be canceled.

I know, Kevin said.

We were planning a trip to the naval yard.

You might see how the weather holds. Caginish is flooded.

Does that matter? she asked.

You have to pass it to get there.

I guess it matters.

Kevin sipped from his mug. Rain gusted against the window. Mrs. McIntyre pulled down the hem of her plaid waistcoat. Her hair was perfectly blow-dried.

There’s another thing, Kevin said. It’s very likely we’ll lose power.

Mrs. McIntyre looked alarmed.

He told her that with any kind of bad storm the electricity usually went, sometimes for just a few minutes, other times for several days. The good news, he said, was that the main house had a generator; the bad was, the cottages did not. He just wanted to be prepared in case it should happen. The island’s electrical grid was notoriously poor.

We should warn the guests, he added, at the very least.

He took a gulp of coffee and placed the mug in the flat of his hand.

Do you have flashlights? Mrs. McIntyre asked.

Flashlights. Blankets, bottled water, he replied. They had it all, he’d just need some help telling everyone what to do.

She gave him one of her tight smiles.

Just say the word, she said.

You’ll be the first to know.

Kevin made a wave of his hand and started back down the hall.

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