Hurricane

by Taige Crenshaw

  “And that’s the problem. You hide so much of yourself from me. Share with me these little titbits, like I’m supposed to be happy, even grateful for it. I deserve more than that,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  “I don’t do that. I’ve shared my life with you,” Julianne replied stiffly.

  “Parts of it. The parts you feel that you can allow me into. Let me in!” he roared.

  Julianne screamed, “I don’t need anyone else to weather the hurricane!”

  “You said something like that before. What does it mean?” Keenan lowered his voice as he fought for control.

  “I… It’s something between me and Rissa. We weather the hurricane together. Just us.” Her tone was soft and from her expression he could clearly see she wasn’t about to budge on her statement or let him in any further.

  Keenan’s throat closed. He cleared it, then said thickly, “That statement says it all.”

  “No, I—”

  “You haven’t let me in, Julianne. From the first moment, you’ve kept me at a distance. Every time I think we’re going somewhere, or hope for more, I feel this wall slam up between us. I want to be with you, be part of your and Rissa’s life. Why won’t you let me?” he asked in a soft tone.

  “What? You think you can replace Charles? That—” She sputtered to a stop, her eyes wide.

  Keenan shook his head. “That’s your problem. I don’t want to replace him. Charles was your past, and I want to be your future.”

  “I knew it. You want me to forget him. The past. All we shared,” she hissed.

  “That’s not what I said. I want you to share your life with me. Everything. Including what you had with Charles. Until just now, you never once mentioned his name in my presence. There have to be lots of memories about him you have. Yet you keep them gripped so close to you, afraid to share with me. As if doing so diminishes what you both had.”

  “Why would I share my memories of my dead husband with you? What we had is—”

  He interjected. “Used as a shield. A shield to keep a wall between us. Drop the fucking shield and be with me. Grab for us, for what we have. Can you do that, Julianne?” he demanded.

  Julianne bit her lips, tears making her eyes glassy. She didn’t say anything.

  Keenan sighed, closing his eyes. Blinking the burning away, he looked at her. Reaching out with a shaking hand, he ran a finger down her nose. A harsh sob broke from her. Steeling himself, he withdrew his hand, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Leave, Julianne.”

  Julianne opened her mouth, then closed it, turning away. Her steps were slow and painful to watch. Keenan clenched his fingers, fighting not to reach for her. She opened the door.

  “I do care about you, Keenan.” Julianne’s voice was soft, though her expression seemed confused.

  “Maybe someday you’ll find someone who is worthy of letting in totally,” Keenan said hoarsely.

  Julianne walked out, closing the door behind her. The click resounded in his head and in the emptiness of his devastated soul. On leaden feet, he walked to the living room. He picked up his crocheting, looking at it. The colours of pale yellow, deep red and black seemed to mock him. They were a mixture of the colours of her clothing the first day they spent together rollerblading, then at the drive-in movie. It was a gift he had been making for Julianne. For her bed. Holding it to his face, tears burnt his eyes. They rained down his face. Burying his face in the partially completed blanket, he wept.

  Struggling to get control, he gulped, taking the blanket from his face, and went into the kitchen. He opened the trash lid, throwing it in. With a harsh exhalation, Keenan turned away, exited the room and went up the stairs to his bedroom. Moments later he lay face down on the bed and sighed. The scents of honeysuckle and peaches filled him.

  Julianne stumbled to her vehicle and fumbled with the handle until she finally got it open. She battled back her emotions, breathing deep. Starting the car, she then drove home. Soon she pulled up in front of the house but she didn’t remember the drive. One foot in front of the other, she went up the walk. She opened the door, then closed it behind her, pressing her hand on the wood. Closing her eyes, she trembled. The tremors increased until she was racked with it. Her knees went weak and she fell to the floor. Dropping her head, wetness slid down her face. Harsh sobs racked her.

  “Leave, Julianne.”

  Keenan’s words echoed in her mind. They were so final. She’d let him in as much as she could, yet it hadn’t been enough. Shuddering, Julianne licked the tears coating her lips. Thoughts of his touch, his scent and his affable grin filled her mind.

  The thought of not seeing him again was too much to bear. She curled into a ball, moaning. Her shaking increased. Tears flowed and only her unrelenting sobs filled the silence. Time lost all meaning. She didn’t know how long she lay there crying. Spent, she stared off into space, barely noticing that it was now bright outside—a new day. Slowly, she sat, getting to her feet and with lethargic, measured steps she went up the stairs to her room. Shedding her clothing, she entered the adjoining bathroom and went into the shower, turning on the water. Stepping in, she hissed at the scalding spray. She cleaned up, then went and dressed. On autopilot, she fixed a cup of tea before taking it to the living room. She drank deeply from the cup.

  I will weather this hurricane. With each sip, the words filled her mind.

  “Mom, I’m home.” The slamming of the door followed Rissa’s call.

  Her daughter’s footsteps echoed in the hall, then into the room. Forcing a smile, she glanced at Rissa.

  “How was your sleepover?”

  “Great. We watched movies. And…” Rissa sat next to her, continuing her story.

  Julianne put her arm around her and let her voice fill the silence.

  All I need is my baby to weather the hurricane. She kissed the top of Rissa’s head.

  On Monday morning, Julianne entered her office. Striding to her desk, she put down her briefcase, picked up the agenda for the day, then went to the sunroom. After placing the paper and her planner on the table, she went through the process of making her usual morning tea. She sat in the chair and, raising the cup to her lips, she glanced up at where they had fucked on Friday. Only three days ago, yet so much had changed.

  Lowering her head, she reviewed her schedule. Her hands shook. The hot water sloshed, burning her fingers. Cursing, she put the cup down. She pushed her hands into her hair and gripped the strands.

  “Jules, are you okay?” Dakota asked, concern in his tone.

  She took a breath, pulling herself together. Blowing out, she raised her head and smiled at him. “I will be.”

  He strode over and sat next to her. “You look tired.”

  “I know. I’m fine. You’re here to discuss Nelson’s arrangements,” Julianne said. She flipped open her planner.

  Dakota’s hand covered hers. “We can talk if you need to,” he said gently.

  “Why do you think I need to talk?” she asked.

  Dakota said softly, “You have the look in your eye. The same one as when…Charles died.”

  Julianne stood abruptly. “Maybe you’re right. We’ll talk later.”

  She went into her office. Dakota followed her.

  “Julianne—”

  “I’m fine,” she snapped.

  “You’re not,” he insisted.

  “Leave it,” she warned.

  “I’m going to call Regina,” Dakota said.

  Julianne grabbed her briefcase and retreated to the sunroom. She heard the murmur of Dakota’s voice as he called Regina. Julianne closed her eyes. She didn’t want to deal with this today. She went to the sunroom door and left. Hurrying to her SUV, she got in and drove away. Quickly, she sent a text to Andrea to reschedule her appointments. Her phone started to ring. She clicked it off without answering.

  I’ll take today and I will be fine.

  A week and a half later, Julianne sighed, then put down her pen. Stretching, she glanced at h
er calendar. Nine days to their last Friday before Labor Day. She sat up, rolling her head.

  “You look as tired as I feel,” Regina said.

  Julianne glanced up at Regina, who sat in the chair across from her. Julianne filled a cup with some iced tea from the pitcher she had in front of her. She pushed it across the table to Regina, then leant back and sipped her own drink. Julianne looked out of the sunroom windows. In the distance, she couldn’t see the people who should be close to the gazebo, working around the area to get it ready for the upcoming event. She made a mental note to go check. They were having a wedding there tomorrow, so today they were setting up the tent and some of the chairs.

  “Do you want to finally tell me what happened between you and Keenan?” Regina said.

  Julianne glanced at Regina. She should have known. When she had told everyone that it was over, they strangely hadn’t asked much. She blew out a breath.

  “It just didn’t work out.” She shrugged.

  “I don’t believe that, Julianne. What happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s done,” she said softly.

  Regina studied her then said, “Do you remember our conversation about silence?”

  “No,” she said, frowning.

  “I warned you about letting the silence build between you. Whatever happened, you need to fix it. Talk with him.”

  “There is nothing to talk about.”

  “If there isn’t, fine. But ask yourself this. Fifty years from now, will you regret not talking with Keenan?” Regina asked.

  Julianne said, “There is nothing to say… We just… He just…” She trailed off, not sure what she could say.

  “Seems to me you need to think about it.” Regina stood and left.

  Julianne scowled. She had already made her peace with breaking up with Keenan. The last words he said echoed in her mind.

  “Leave, Julianne.”

  The pain filled her, fresh and brutal. He’d turned his back on her. Something tickled in her thoughts.

  “Maybe someday you will find someone who is worthy of letting in totally.”

  Julianne sat up at Keenan’s words. She had been so focused on the hurt she hadn’t really registered his words. Raising a shaking hand, she covered her mouth as she stood abruptly then strode to her office. Quickly, she gathered her things and took a moment to send a message to Andrea before heading out of the door. As she walked rapidly towards the exit, she ignored the calls for attention.

  In her SUV, she drove quickly. Soon she jumped out of her vehicle then rushed into her house and down to the basement. The boxes were all labelled and stacked neatly. She pulled down the first box, and seconds later she placed it on the table, pausing to take a breath before she opened it.

  Keenan washed the dish, not really paying attention, then he handed it over to be rinsed.

  “How are you doing, big brother?”

  He glanced at his sister. Working up a smile, he replied, “Better.”

  Brigid pursed her lips but thankfully she didn’t say anything else. They completed the dishes and he took his leave, kissing Brigid on the cheek and ruffling his niece’s hair. He waved at Brigid’s husband and went to his truck. In the cab, he gripped the wheel, then turned on the vehicle and headed home. After pulling into his driveway he walked to his house, stopping to get the mail before he went in. Once inside, Keenan turned on the light on the table by the door. He closed the door behind him, dropping the mail on the entryway table, then he headed into the dark living room, immediately stopping in the doorway, shocked.

  “Keenan.” Julianne stood.

  Chapter Ten

  Keenan’s heart clenched. Eleven days since he’d last seen her. She was so beautiful. Julianne bit her lip and played with the edge of her braid. He had no idea why she was here.

  “Ju—”

  “No… Please let me speak,” Julianne said.

  Keenan crossed his arms over his chest, clenching his fists. From her nervousness and the way she was acting, he wanted to hold her. He had to keep reminding himself he no longer had that right. Julianne cocked her head to the side. Her hands rubbed the edge of her braid between her fingertips. She worried her lip. Julianne inhaled, then released the breath. Straightening, she met his gaze steadily.

  “Before I explain, I need to tell you the most important thing. I love you, Keenan,” Julianne said firmly.

  Keenan lowered his arms and his breath stalled. The truth of her statement was in her eyes. He trembled as he stepped towards her.

  Julianne shook her head, stepping back.

  “Please don’t touch me. I have to tell you a story first. Please, sit.”

  She sat again in the corner of the couch farthest away from the door. Keenan sat next to her. Julianne partially faced him, putting her knee up on the couch.

  “When I woke in the hospital after the car accident, I woke to my world changed. They told me my husband—my childhood sweetheart—was dead, and that my baby would not survive. At twenty-two weeks, she had a ten per cent chance of viability. That’s how they said it. I was devastated.” Julianne paused, then spoke again, “I demanded to see her. If my baby was going to die, I wanted to see her. Finally, I was able to convince them. My sister took me. Late, when everyone was gone. When I saw Rissa for that first time, she was so tiny. But something in me knew that she would survive. That first night, I made the vow we would weather this hurricane together. That has been our special thing ever since. That night in the hospital, I begged Rissa not to leave me.”

  Keenan swallowed. He hadn’t known the story of Rissa’s birth and the loss of Julianne’s husband. The brief glimpse he had taken of the report just gave the facts of the accident, not the emotional impact. He tried to picture the smart, vivacious child he had seen that one day as Julianne described. He couldn’t.

  Julianne spoke again, “After that first night, I was there every moment I could be. Then I developed some sort of weird infection. From what they said, I was delirious. Almost died. I was so foggy, I couldn’t remember much of what happened. But I remembered, in the darkness of my delirium, this voice. One that was so familiar, but I could not place it. It talked to me. Told me I had to survive for my baby. Live for us to weather the hurricane together. That voice is what kept me holding on, fighting for my baby and me. When I woke, I had to get my strength back so I could see my baby.”

  Her hands clenched. “When I saw her, I knew something was wrong. She looked frailer than before. At first, no one would tell me what was wrong, but I demanded to know. They said she had almost died, too. The thought of her dying while I was not there terrified me. I talked to her again. I was there every moment I could be. At first, I did it alone. Then, every time I went, there was this man sitting in this wheelchair in the shadows. He didn’t say anything, just sat there. I was so wrapped up in Rissa that it took me a bit to ask who he was. The nurses would only tell me that he was a hero. I didn’t know what they meant, and I didn’t push. I assumed he had a baby in the nursery, too.”

  Julianne stopped, wiping tears from her eyes, then spoke again, “For weeks, late at night, we would be in the nursery, me talking with Rissa and him just sitting there. He started to be a comfort to me. On one day, a particularly bad day when Rissa stopped breathing but they brought her back, I was a wreck. Still weak from my being ill. Crying like crazy. This touch, and then a voice, caught my attention. It was that voice. The one who brought me back when I was sick. I looked up and saw the chair. It was the man who was always in the corner. He had some sort of contraption on his leg. But that didn’t stop him. He pulled me into his lap and held me as I cried. Told me that my baby Rissa was a fighter. That she would survive and weather this hurricane. He held me, and I went to sleep.”

  She smiled, tears flowing down her face, then said softly, “I woke in my hospital bed. I don’t even know when or how I got there. I went back to the nursery with dread filling me. When I got there, the man was standing at Rissa’s incubator, talking to her
, telling her about all the things we would do together. That she would be a wonderful child, and a successful woman. A strong one like her mother. He humbled me with his words. I felt weak, not strong at all. He went to sit and fell. I called for the nurse and went to him. They rushed him out so fast. I was worried, but they wouldn’t tell me anything. When I didn’t see him the next day and the next, I begged my sister to tell me who he was and what was going on. She did something that, to this day, we do not talk about. She took me to his room.”

  She wiped her nose, stopping again. Keenan had no idea why she was telling him about this man, but he listened.

  “When I entered, he was hooked up to these tubes. It was then my sister told me who he was. He was the firefighter who had saved me, and thus Rissa. He had thrown himself over my body, shielding my lower half so that I would not be crushed or bleed out. We were pinned under the concrete barrier for hours. I don’t remember the details but, when she said that, I realised why his voice was so familiar. He talked to me when we were pinned. His voice assuring me we would be okay was what I held onto. Because of him, I had minor injuries instead of being dead. He risked his life to save ours.”

  She blew out a breath, then spoke in a hoarse voice, “He had been doing too much, coming to be with Rissa and me. He’d had a set-back. His lungs were weak, and they had to put him on a ventilator. When I heard that, I split my time between him and Rissa, talking to them both. I don’t know if he heard me, but I wanted to be there for him. Eventually, they did take him off the ventilator, and we talked. When I asked him why he had risked himself, you know what he said?” She smiled wryly. “It was his job. That was more than his job. He wouldn’t accept my thanks. He said all he wanted was for me and Rissa to be happy, to live a full life. For the rest of our stay, we checked on Rissa together—celebrated, cried, and held each other up for her. The first time I could hold Rissa was such a precious thing. Although he baulked at it, I gave her to him to hold. Imagine this big man, scared of a little baby. He was so gentle with her.”