The Rising Storm

By Danielle Stewart

Dr. Noah Key would gladly have traded places with his wife in the car accident that claimed her life. Without her he finds himself living a half life, haunted by all the ways he failed in his marriage. 
Determined to absolve himself, Noah sets out on a journey to the other side of the world to provide medical aid after a devastating storm destroys an impoverished island. But nothing is as he expected; faced with impossibly difficult choices, Noah must decide if he’s helping or hurting the people around him.

Dr. Elizabeth Lowe has honed her skills by traveling to the most war torn and environmentally devastated regions of the world. Easily misjudged as cold and indifferent, Elizabeth seems like the last thing Noah needs in his life. But she may be the only person capable of convincing him to stop trying to pay a debt he doesn’t owe. Will he stop punishing himself long enough to realize he can let her in?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Publishing
• Release date: Jul 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781094458663

Danielle Stewart

Danielle Stewart is a USA Today Best Selling Author of over 50 books. She has held the number one book rank on Apple Books, Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Danielle currently lives in Charlotte, North Carolina with her husband and son. She works hard to perfect her ability to write in a noisy house and create story lines while daydreaming and folding laundry. She loves hearing from readers so please find her on social media.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Noah stared out the window of the airplane rather than look down at his watch. Why bother? He was still only fourteen hours through his twenty-six-hour travel schedule. The hum of the plane engine and dim lights made the time crawl by, especially since he couldn’t seem to sleep very long. It gave him ample time to think, to consider and then reconsider many things. Every thought was like a tiny paper cut, sharp at first with a lingering dull ache he couldn’t seem to get rid of.

One thought that kept haunting him was how little was left after his wife Rayanne had died. The car accident that took her life took so much of him as well. He was physically different, about twenty pounds lighter, but the weight wasn’t the only thing he’d lost. His analytical brain kept trying to make this into some kind of math equation. Noah plus Rayanne equaled one whole. When they married they’d become a new unit of measure. Maybe it was cliché but two really did become one.

At some point their balance shifted; their identity as a couple was not half and half anymore. Rayanne became the face of their relationship. She was the person who kept in touch, made plans, gave thoughtful gifts, and organized events. When people thought about Noah and Rayanne, they thought of her first.

So when she died three quarters of him went with her. She took all the social aspects, the friends, the relationships.

Another water? the stewardess offered, and he jumped, nearly spilling the water he still had left in his cup.

No, thank you, he said, clearing his throat. What he really wanted was a gin and tonic, but he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since that night he nearly ended it all. He still couldn’t believe he was one of those people. Before his wife died, if someone were to ask him if he’d ever consider suicide, he’d have laughed. That was for sick people, sad people, not someone like him. He was far too logical to think ending his life was the right choice, no matter the circumstances. But that was the shocking realization he was still struggling to swallow. Sad could appear out of thin air. That bottomless hole could open up under anyone’s feet at any moment. No one was immune. No one was safe.

So like any other trial in his life, Noah formed a rational plan. Whatever he’d done wrong, every shortcoming he’d had during his marriage to Rayanne, he’d fix it now. That’s why he was on this plane. Everyone else was probably looking for a way to leave the Palanie Islands by now. The storm had hit two weeks ago. The devastation was immeasurable, or so he’d been told. It was the strongest recorded storm to ever make landfall. Help was needed. The perfect place to prove he could be a better person.

Postponing the trip to help Jamie and Trixie had thrown some of his plans up in the air, but he was going to make it work. Noah was rarely derailed for long. He’d put his mind to this, and he was going to see it through.

Originally he’d planned a volunteer trip to Brazil. He thought he’d do some sightseeing, work, and get some perspective. Clear his mind while doing some good. He was scheduled to head to a small town that needed vaccinations and some general care but not much more. It was an adventure and, overall, a safe endeavor.

His mind changed when the first pictures of the impending super storm flashed across the news. Forecasters were anticipating monumental destruction. Like a whisper in his ear, Noah heard his wife’s voice. If she were alive and saw the news she’d have cried. She’d have lost sleep thinking about all the people who would have been affected. That’s who she was. She worried for people she’d never met who lived in places she’d never been.

Historically Noah lacked the capacity for that kind of empathy. He always believed there was no point to it. You couldn’t help people by simply crying over their pain. Noah was deliberate in his life. Could he act? Could he make a difference? If not, he made little room for it in his life.

In retrospect it made him sick to his stomach to think how many times he’d laughed her emotion off or told her she was crazy. How heartless he’d been to her kindness. So like any other problem he had, he worked toward a solution. He called the charity’s organizer and told her he was changing plans. He didn’t need a sightseeing trip to Brazil. He needed to listen to the whisper in his ear. Over and over it echoed: Help them.

1

He thought he was prepared. As the plane circled over the tiny airport, Noah kept getting glimpses of the destruction below. Leveled. Everything was knocked over and smashed to pieces, wet and muddy. The runway barely looked clear, which was probably why the plane kept circling. The trees were snapped in half like toothpicks, their tops piled up next to them. Anything that used to be a house or building looked more like a seashell that had been smashed against the rocks.

When the plane finally landed, Noah felt like he’d be sick. Maybe it was the nerves, or the bumpy flight. He’d done his share of travel over the years and knew this would be long and exhausting, but he hadn’t been prepared for the physical toll it took on him. The real work hadn’t even begun.

When he stood in the aisle of the plane he realized how few passengers there were. Are you a doctor? the stewardess asked as he gathered up his bag. Her English was good, though her accent was heavy.

Yes, Noah answered, wondering what had given him away.

Her eyes filled with tears as she reached for his hand and bowed her head. Thank you, she whispered. Thank you for coming.

Noah choked out some kind of response though he couldn’t even be sure what he said. Maybe you’re welcome? But that sounded trite. He hadn’t done anything yet to be worthy of any gratitude.

I’ve been flying in and out of this airport for seven years, she explained. Her tiny frame was rigid and her chin was high and regal as she spoke. I see so many of the same faces. After the storm everyone was flying out. The stories they’ve told are unimaginable. They need you. Help them, she said, blinking off the tears that rested on her coal black lashes.

Those words again. Help them. Noah had never been very spiritual. Science had been his religion over the years. Things that couldn’t be seen didn’t exist in his mind. If they did exist, by now science would have found them. But in the last six months too many things had happened that couldn’t be explained away by logic. Call them coincidences or flukes, but they were there. And his heart kept telling his brain to shut up and just believe there was something bigger. Believe that Rayanne was still with him and guiding him in some way. But ultimately he found a way to talk himself out of it. Nonsense.

He nodded his head at the stewardess as he slung his bag over his shoulder and got off the tiny plane. The heat hit him harder than any punch in the face he’d ever received. A thick wall of humid air crushed against him. The smell was almost as strong. It was the scent of a swamp: mud and stagnant water.

He pulled up the handle on his rolling suitcase and began walking toward the building the plane had parked next to. As he got closer he realized it was only half a building now. The top and side had been torn away.

Excuse me, he said tentatively to a man who’d just gotten off the plane. Is this the airport terminal?

It was, he chuckled, his accent British, and Noah was relieved to hear something that at least sounded a little familiar to him. It’s not operational anymore.

Where do I get a cab or a bus or something? I’m going to Langue. I think it’s about four miles from here?

The man cocked his head to the side and looked Noah over as though he wasn’t sure if this was a joke. I’m sorry, are you with some kind of relief group or something?

Yes, I’m a doctor. I’m here to volunteer. Noah felt his shoulders perk up slightly with pride in his choice to help. If Rayanne were alive she’d love to know he was here.

Didn’t they tell you? I mean, your suitcase. I think you might want to consider turning around and getting back on that plane before it leaves. This isn’t what you think it is. The man’s square face was tight now as though any humor in this situation had deserted him, leaving behind only concern.

What’s wrong with my suitcase? Noah asked, looking down at the medium-sized rolling bag with his clothes and toiletries in it.

It’s on wheels, the man laughed. There are no cabs, no buses. No transportation at all. If whatever group you are here with didn’t send someone to get you then you are out of luck. You can’t wheel a bag from here to Langue. There are no roads. It’s all puddles or debris piles. If you want to get from here to Langue your only option is to walk. And you won’t make it with that bag unless you can carry it.

My group was expecting me last week. I got held up in the States. I couldn’t reach my coordinator here, so I just got on the plane and came out as soon as I could. Noah stared down at his bag and wondered if he’d made an enormous mistake by coming here without having reached the coordinator on the ground in Langue. The line was busy every time he tried. He figured he’d meet up with them when he arrived. How hard could it be? The island wasn’t that big.

I’m Miles Hathaway, the man announced, extending his hand for a shake. Noah took it but was still spinning out in his own mind. Miles looked like his clothes had been thoughtfully selected for this trip. His boots were high above his ankle with thick rubber soles. He had a large brim on his hat to block the sun and a belt that held lots of small tools and bottles. I’m with a private security company, EPS. I’m here to assess the safety of different locations on the island and then inform the relief coordinators where they should head next. So far, I’ve covered about eleven miles, and I’ll tell you, chap, he said, shaking his head and running his hand over his brow, I’ve been doing this for thirteen years, and I’ve never seen anything like this before. Like I said, you might want to get back on that plane. His temples were gathering sweat around his reddish brown hair. His eyes looked weathered from the inside out, like he’d seen things that had aged his soul. Miles looked like a man who knew what he was talking about, and to Noah that made this all the more worrisome.

I’m staying, Noah said, nodding his head to try to convince himself that was a good idea.

Suit yourself. But you’ll need to lighten your load. That backpack you’ve got on. That’s all you should take with you. Grab the essentials from your suitcase and leave it here. Miles looked him over again from head to toe.

He should just abandon his two hundred fifty dollar suitcase? Was that really necessary? He could probably lug it the four miles. He was in good shape. He’d made it through some serious workout boot camps before.

Listen, Miles implored, reading Noah’s hesitation, you don’t need much in the way of clothes. There is no running water and, trust me, you won’t be shaving. You won’t be working out. Open your bag.

I think I can carry it, Noah countered, lifting it up and testing the weight.

Because you jog? You’re killing me here. I don’t really have time for this. It’s hot as hell. A heat you’ve never experienced before. This is not the treadmill at the gym. You’ll need to climb and crawl, you don’t want to be doing that with a bag full of stuff you won’t even need.

Noah laid his bag down on its side and unzipped it reluctantly. Miles plucked through it and started tossing things to the side, right out on the dirt beside them.

There, Miles beamed victoriously, brushing his hands like he’d just accomplished something. That’s your pack. Now, I’m heading in a different direction, but I’ll point you where you need to go if you’re sure you want to.

I’m positive, Noah lied, stepping over his discarded designer shorts. They were now sitting in a puddle, soaking up mud like a paper towel commercial proving its effectiveness.

You need to meet up with your group as soon as possible, Miles instructed. They’ll have food and safe water to drink. What you have in your bag won’t cut it for long. You’ve had your vaccinations, right?

Yes, Noah nodded triumphantly, feeling like he’d finally done something right. He wasn’t often underprepared, and it was bruising his ego to be treated like such an idiot.

The men rounded the building that used to be the airport terminal and Noah let out an audible gasp as he took in the wreckage before him. There was literally nowhere to walk. The choices were to walk through a murky puddle or climb a high pile of debris. Broken wood, metal, tree trunks all sprinkled with trinkets, and pictures that previously adorned someone’s home, were scattered like some kind of morbid confetti.

Miles graciously ignored Noah’s gasp of surprise as he gave further advice. Watch every single step you take. You can slice your leg wide open on some of this stuff. Plus none of the bodies have been cleared out of this area yet. I’m sure you’ve seen a dead body before but these are decomposing waterlogged corpses. You step on one of those and you’ll regret it instantly. The matter of fact explanation rattled Noah, but he was determined to stay focused.

Miles drew a rudimentary map on the back of a piece of paper he’d picked up out of the pile of debris. At about the halfway point you’ll see a big white church. It’s a makeshift hospital right now. If you feel like you can’t make it all the way to Langue then stop there for the night. They’ll get you back to the airport in the morning for a flight out. You won’t want to hang out there too long. The doctors there are a little rough but they get the job done.

Do I really look like someone who can’t make it four miles? I’m not looking to turn around and fly back home. I’ve been an emergency room doctor for a decade. I can handle this. I’m here to help. Noah’s skin felt prickly with frustration. Maybe it was the weight of the heat or the overwhelming smell, but all of his senses seemed supercharged.

That’s admirable. Miles didn’t look impressed. But this is not like anything you’ve ever experienced before. Hell, no one has ever experienced it. This storm was the strongest to ever make landfall, and these people had no place to hide. I’m not saying you can’t administer some medicine, but to expect you’ll actually help them is naive. It takes a very unique kind of doctor to be able to cut it here. I’ve seen lots come give it a try and end up running for the hills. There’s no shame in it. It’s better to leave though. It’s easy to do more harm than good if you’re not built for it. But I do hope it works out for you. Miles extended his hand and, after a firm shake, began heading in the other direction.

I can help them, Noah whispered to himself as he took his first step out onto the pile of debris and began to navigate his way across. He ran ten miles a