by Pat Warren
Briana leaped up and rushed to his side. “Do you think you should?” she asked, a nervous hitch to her voice.
Not answering, he grabbed his jacket and opened the door wider, then all the way, walking onto the porch. It was still raining, but the wind was almost a gentle, shifting breeze. Lightning streaked down the wall of the night sky, illuminating briefly a tumultuous sea, but not a threatening one right now.
“I’m going to go fix that shutter,” he said, pulling open the porch door.
She grabbed his hand, suddenly afraid again. “Let it go, Slade. The damage is already done. This could all start up again any minute.”
“I read once that this calm lasts about ten minutes, sometimes a little longer. I’ll be back long before then.” He squeezed her hand. “If I’m not, go back inside and shut the door.” He hurried down the stairs before she could stop him.
It was the side shutter over the small, high window into the hall bath, Slade discovered. He didn’t have time to get hammer, nails, and a ladder from the garage right now. He decided that of all windows, that one broken would do the least damage. Quickly, he ran around the perimeter of Jeremy’s house, checking for other problems, but found none.
Ignoring the light rain, he did the same for Gramp’s house, but found that the plywood had held far better than he’d expected. The storage shed in the backyard lay on its side, some of the contents spilling out and jamming the doorway, but he passed on by, unwilling to waste time on a minor problem right now.
As he rounded the front again, he felt the wind pick up slightly. His head down against the rushing air, he hurried down the street. Irma lived a block away, which should only take him minutes to cover. He wanted to be able to tell Briana that her elderly friend was all right.
Two doors from her corner house, he saw that Irma’s picket fence was gone, nowhere in sight. Odd, because the one in front of Briana’s place was intact. Donald was fickle, it would seem. Blinking against the rain beginning to pound at him with its needlelike spray, he saw that her roof was undamaged, the porch he’d reinforced still standing.
As he turned to inspect her backyard, a fierce gust of wind shoved him against the neighbor’s privet hedge with the force of a battering ram. Slightly dizzy, Slade got to his feet and knew he had only a few minutes to get back to Briana.
Briana. She was what he was rushing back to, her warm hands, her loving arms, her giving heart. Out here, fighting the elements as he’d never seen them, Slade came face-to-face with a truth he’d been unwilling to admit. He needed her.
It was as simple as that, and as complex.
That need wouldn’t be enough to keep her, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he needed her and always would. It wasn’t Jeremy’s house, now his, that pile of mortar and stone and wood, that he was worried about. It wasn’t even his own safety that concerned him. It was Briana. He had to get back and get there safely, for Briana.
He’d avoided even thinking the “L word” for so long that even now, it gave him pause. Loving someone made you so damn vulnerable and open to the pain of losing them. Hadn’t he learned that the hard way—Jeremy, his mother, Megan, even Rachel? Yet Briana had made him realize that not loving might have a higher price tag.
Starting along the path homeward, he glanced down the beach and thought he saw a man struggling to stay upright, much as he was. Stopping, he peered into the sporadic darkness and saw someone who wasn’t dressed for the weather any more than he was. Slade didn’t recognize the guy, whose head was bent low, so he hurried to retrace his footsteps. Whoever he was, Slade hoped he’d find his way.
Briana was at the door, reaching to yank him inside, her heart slamming against her ribs. “Damn you, why’d you have to go out there and scare me half to death?” She was pulling him to her, yet pummeling his back with tightly curled fists. “I saw you walk around the house, then a few minutes later, you started down the street. I leaned out and called to you, but you kept on going.”
“I went to check on Irma and …”
But Briana wasn’t listening. Another good whack, followed by a third and fourth. “How could you go, knowing I was here worried and frightened and …”
On the porch, with the wind howling and the rain whipping in through the open door, he kissed her. It was the only way he could think to stop her frightened babbling. He knew that nerves were fueling her feverish punishment, that worry had pushed her to the edge.
Breathing in, choking back a sob, Brie kissed him back, her mouth bruising his, taking over. She’d thought she’d lost him, thought he’d simply walked out of sight, been swallowed up by the storm. He’d been gone so long and she’d been scared out of her mind. Her hands moved up into his hair, gripping, kneading. She couldn’t lose him to a stupid storm, not when she’d just found him.
Needing a breath, feeling the wind whipping into them at his back, Slade broke the kiss and guided them quickly into the house before closing the door and shoving the dead bolt in place. “Now then, where were we?” he asked, removing his wet jacket and looking at her in the flickering light of the oil lantern.
But Briana’s nerves were far from settled. She thumped him with an openhanded slap that landed on his chest, then turned and moved down the hallway, swiping at her tear-streaked face as she walked. Damn, but he’d had her crying, nearly sobbing, then he’d sashayed back in like he’d been to the corner store for a pack of cigarettes on a sunny day. “You did that on purpose, staying away so long just so I’d miss you.”
Brushing back his wet hair, Slade found himself smiling despite the absurd situation. Or maybe because of it. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would I want you to worry or to miss me?” He caught the towel she threw at him, but just barely.
Taking a moment, he rubbed his hair with the towel, studying her in the glow of the second lantern sitting on the bathroom counter by the sink. She was working up a full head of steam. “Tell me why I’d want to do that.”
“Because you’re perverse, because you like getting me worked up, because you don’t give a damn about my feelings.” She sniffled, reached for a tissue from the box on the counter, and patted her face dry.
“That’s crazy.” Slade draped the damp towel around his shoulders, watching her. “You know I’m not like that.” God, but she was even beautiful when she was angry, when she was crying.
“Maybe I don’t know you. Maybe I don’t know anything, not anymore.” She crossed her arms over her chest defensively, then glanced up at the bathroom window as something heavy crashed against it, the next moment drifting away. “I thought I was getting a handle on things, that maybe with a little more time I could put that terrible day behind me and start over. But then you came along and screwed around with my head and my feelings, and now I’m a mess all over again.”
If she didn’t look so serious, he might have smiled. “And just how did I do all that?”
She was too exhausted from worrying, from trying to cope, to lie or to turn away. Damn him again for being so calm, like the eye of the storm, always in control. Which she decidedly was not. Her eyes downcast, studying the floor, she spoke quietly. “By making me fall in love with you.”
Slade let out a whoosh of air and looked at her a long moment. “No, I’ve made you think you’re in love with me. Big difference.” Nerves skittering, he tried to keep his mind thinking clearly when inside, his heart urged him to pull her close and never let her go, to believe exactly what she said. “Brie, we don’t have a chance.”
“That’s about what I expected you to say. Ever the optimist.” Her anger surfacing again, she looked up at him, her eyes growing bright. “You don’t know the first damn thing about loving someone. Did you think I chose this situation? Did you think I wanted to fall in love with a man who’s pessimistic enough not to even believe in love? Do you see me as totally masochistic?”
“No, I …”
“Well, there you are. I didn’t want to care about you. I stayed clear of you, let you be. You ca
me after me.”
“Yes, and I shouldn’t have.” He moved closer, took hold of her arms, blotting out the sound of gale winds rattling through the rafters and rain clawing against the boards covering the windows like the talons of some prehistoric bird trying to break through. Like he was trying to break through to Briana. “You and I are from different worlds. You’re from a well-to-do family where everyone loves each other and …”
“That’s not so. My father’s been cheating on my mother for years. She finally admitted it this last time I was home. So much for Ozzie and Harriet.”
He wasn’t about to be put off by a minor correction. “That aside, they loved you, they stayed together, they raised you in luxury, and they still care. That’s totally opposite from my early life.”
“What does that have to do with the price of eggs?”
“Opposites may attract, Brie, but they soon revert to their roots and get tired of living with someone who can’t keep up.”
“Keep up how? I’m the one who quit college and you finished, even though it took you a while. Travel? You’ve been places I’ve only read about Money? I’d wager you have more than I do by far. Socially? Okay, maybe you’ve got me there, but I was never a part of the country club set that my parents are so fond of. Nor do I wish to be.”
She was doing one hell of a convincing job. He fervently wished he could believe her. “You’ll leave, Briana. We both know you’ll walk away one day, go back to Boston where you’re comfortable.”
Brie struggled to hang on to her patience, which was rapidly slipping way along with her foolish courage. “I don’t know what more I can say after I’ve said it repeatedly. I’m not like the others. I won’t leave you.”
“You’ll leave Nantucket. There isn’t enough to hold you here. It’s not as sophisticated and polished and intellectually challenging as Boston or Manhattan or …”
“Bullshit!” She whirled about, thrusting trembling hands in her hair, angry with herself now. “Why am I trying so damn hard to convince you? Let’s face it, pal. You’re afraid. Afraid to just let go of the past and take a chance on loving me back. Loving is damn risky. I know. I took the plunge once and freely admit it didn’t work out. But I’m knee-deep again and I’m not a coward. I won’t bolt. You’re the one who’s ready to run for cover.”
One word had his back straightening. “I’m not a coward,” he said emphatically.
“Aren’t you?” she challenged. “All right let’s find out. I want you to answer one question for me, just one. All other things aside, my past, your past, my problems, your problems. Just one question: Do you care about me?” She’d gone so far, risked so much, yet hadn’t been able to make herself ask if he loved her. She knew it’d be easier for him to admit he cared than to say those three fearful words.
Glaring down at her, Slade pressed his lips tightly together. She just couldn’t leave it alone, could she? “Yes.”
The small ray of hope that had been fluttering around inside her spread just a little. “Say it.”
His hands moved to curl around her arms, his fingers tightening. “I care about you, Briana, but it doesn’t make any difference.”
Brie let out a rush of air. Albeit reluctantly, he’d admitted he cared for her. It wasn’t exactly what she’d wanted to hear, but it was definitely a step in the right direction. She rose on tiptoes, her mouth a scant inch from his, her eyes filling. “It makes all the difference in the world.”
“I don’t know …”
She grabbed his hand just as a thunderclap reverberated throughout the house. Pulling him to the bedroom floor, she settled her arms around him. “Make love to me, Slade. Let’s make the world go away, for just a little while. Don’t think about anything else. Just love me.”
He was pretty sure he already did, Slade thought, just before his mouth found hers.
Chapter Fifteen
Distant sirens woke Slade. His eyes popped open and it took him a moment to orient himself. He wondered how long he’d been asleep. A glance at his watch in the wavering light of the oil lamp told him that he and Briana had been lying in each other’s arms on the bedroom carpeting for about six hours.
He sat up slowly, feeling a little stiff from the awkward position, and noticed that Briana must have gotten up at some point and found a quilt to cover them. He pushed it aside and got to his feet, the movement awakening Brie with a start.
“What time is it?” she asked, shoving back her tangled hair.
“Five-thirty,” Slade answered, bending to pick up the clothes he’d removed so hastily last night He reached over and flicked the light switch but nothing happened. “Still no power.”
“It’s so quiet,” Briana said, uncertain whether to trust her ears. “I can’t even hear rain. Do you suppose it’s over?”
Slade had been wondering the same thing. Pulling up his briefs, he said, “I guess there’s no predicting how long these things last.” As he climbed into his jeans, he watched her yawn and stretch, then reach to yank up the quilt that had slipped down to reveal her bare breasts. Desire engulfed him just that quickly. He fell to his knees beside her. “Pretty funny, your modesty after last night.”
Briana felt a smile form. Her hand moved to where the snap of his jeans lay open, and she trailed a finger along the edge. “I’ve always thought a man in unbuttoned jeans was one of the sexiest sights ever.”
“Is that a fact? I guess we can wait another little while before going to check on the storm.” He settled down alongside her, his hand snaking under the quilt to find the breast she’d hidden from his sight.
But a pounding noise that seemed to be coming from the area of the back door had him changing his mind. Hopping up, he grabbed his shirt. “I’ll see who that is.”
Brie rose, feeling achy in more than one place, thinking it was probably a good thing the interruption had come along. She was stiff as an old woman from a night spent on the floor. Nevertheless, it had been a memorable night.
By the time she’d gone into the bathroom and put on some clean clothes, Slade was back, slipping on his shoes. “That was Chris Reed from in back.”
“Pam’s all right, isn’t she?” Brie asked, tying back her hair. “I’ve heard that storms can cause a woman who’s near her due date to deliver early.”
“Chris says she’s fine and so’s Annie. Their house escaped damage, but one garage wall caved in. He came over to check on you and found me. He seemed a little shocked to see me.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Does that bother you?”
“Why should it? You mean because you were obviously just getting dressed? I don’t think our being together is anyone else’s business. Besides, Chris is a nice guy. Why, did he say something?”
“No, he just looked kind of surprised. He said he’s going to walk around, see if anyone needs help. I told him to wait for us.” He picked up his jacket on the way through the living room and saw that it had pretty well dried out, so he put it on.
“Hi, Chris,” Briana called through the back door as she grabbed her jacket. “Looks like we can’t make coffee without electricity, just when we could really use some caffeine.”
“I had a Coke before I left. Want me to go get you two some?” His red hair stuck up in tufts as if he’d slept on it funny or had spent a rough night finger combing it.
Slade came out holding two flashlights and held the screen door while Brie locked up. “Nah, we’ll catch something later.”
He led the way around front, gazing at a gray sky streaked with pale yellow clouds. The ocean waves were thundering in to shore as always, only slightly more foamy than usual. Seaweed was clumped along the edges of the sand like ragged fringe on the hem of a dress. Bobbing around out aways were pieces of debris, what looked like a wood garage door, some kind of child’s toy that gleamed bright red, and a sailboat that had capsized. Seagulls dipped and rose, searching for breakfast as if it were a normal day. “Almost like it never happened,” he commented.
Stunned at the
comparison of last night to this morning, Brie gazed around. “It’s barely chilly and there’s hardly a breeze, much less a wind. Amazing. Oh, I should’ve tried the radio.”
“I had the shortwave on,” Chris said as they began walking. “Lots of damage downtown, mostly to storefront windows. A few rooftops and one or two old buildings collapsed. Over by the airport, a small private plane got picked up by the wind and flipped right on top of a hangar.”
Slade glanced over the rooftops toward the direction of new sirens. “Listen to that. I wonder how many fires are still burning.”
“Quite a few,” Chris answered, “according to the news report. The problem is that many of the streets are water damaged and impassable so emergency vehicles can’t get through.”
“Hey, look over there!” Briana saw a group of people gathered around the side yard of Irma’s house. “Oh, no. I hope Irma’s all right” She broke into a run.
Right behind her, Slade and Chris followed. Slade reached the back area first circling the small crowd and pushing through. His face grim, he peered at the broken boards and siding that had once been Irma’s back porch, now neatly severed from the rest of the house as if sliced by a very large, very sharp knife. But that wasn’t the worst of it.
“Oh, my God,” Briana said, her hand going to her mouth. The side wall of Irma’s house had collapsed in on itself, causing a gaping hole in the floor of the kitchen. The opposite wall was still standing, but it was engulfed by flames and curling black smoke. Broken bricks from her corner fireplace were scattered everywhere, interspersed with the jagged edges of the ruined plank flooring. The tiny basement beneath could be seen through a cavernous opening, as well as severed pipes leaking water. “Tell me Irma’s not in there.”
“‘Fraid she is, Briana,” a thready voice said at her elbow. Jake McGrath, his bony face a maze of worry lines, leaned on a bent stick as he stared into the fiery rubble that was Irma’s place.
“What happened?” Chris asked.
