Weathering Stormy

by Auburn J. Kelly

  “I was planning to, but I’m not so sure anymore. I have other pursuits on the horizon.”

  Brylan met the challenge in Nozz’s eyes, matching him with his own steely glare. He wasn’t sure what game Nozz was playing, but he didn’t like it. He thought about pushing him for the answers he was desperately wanting, but figured it would be useless considering the way he was acting.

  “Well, good luck to you in whatever you decide.” Brylan stuck his hand out, noticing the hesitation before Nozz accepted it.

  “Thanks, Coach.”

  ****

  Once Brylan’s car had disappeared from view, Nozz opened up his glove compartment and took out the plain white envelope that had been residing there for the past two weeks. His teeth ground together as he stared at Brylan’s name written across the front in Stormy’s spirally script. He fumbled open the flap and took out the letter before tossing the envelope on the floor of the car. He stared at it, having memorized every word, and felt slightly resentful toward her for entrusting him to deliver it.

  Reading it was an invasion of Stormy’s privacy. He knew that, and the guilt of it pricked at him. But he knew it was for her own good. She hadn’t been in any shape to think rationally for herself when she gave it to him. The shock of Marni’s passing was still fresh and Stormy had been a wreck.

  He wished she hadn’t asked. But she had. She’d made him promise and he had said that he would deliver it.

  And yet here it was…still in his possession.

  The wrinkled pages practically burned his hands as he read the words again. He laid it in his lap and rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger. Did he miss an opportunity? Should he have given it to Brylan anyway?

  After a couple of minutes, he tossed the letter on the passenger seat and headed out. He tuned his radio to his favorite 80’s station— also Stormy’s favorite— and cranked the volume up until the speaker in the car door vibrated his pant leg.

  When he pulled out on the highway Bon Jovi started wailing about never saying goodbye. Nozz hit the accelerator, not caring about speed limits. He just wanted the lump in his throat to go down and for his eyes to quit stinging.

  He looked over to the passenger seat and snatched the letter, crumpling it in the process.

  Brylan didn’t deserve to read those words. He hadn’t earned them. Hadn’t earned Stormy’s affection.

  He had.

  He was the one who held her after her mother died. He was the one she leaned on at the funeral. He was the one she chose to be with after the prom. Not Brylan.

  Nozz pinched the paper between two fingers, letting it hang precariously out the open window. It fluttered against the wind as an internal battle took place in his head.

  Keep it? Toss it?

  Getting rid of it would mean betraying her trust. If she ever found out what he did…it would put a permanent dent in their relationship.

  But delivering it to Brylan…that would only prolong the inevitable heartbreak he would bring her.

  Both the letter and his heart were becoming a tattered mess. He went back and forth, back and forth, weighing the risks, contemplating what to do…until the first tear fell and the poignant song ended.

  And then he let go.

  Dear Brylan,

  I hope this letter finds you well. I thought about calling, but I’m just not ready to hear your voice yet. I’m afraid it would just make it that much harder to leave.

  My head is a mess and my heart is splintered. I don’t know why the universe has decided to throw up so many road blocks for you and me, but I guess it has its reasons. Maybe we’re just not meant to be together, or maybe the timing just isn’t right. I don’t know, but I would like to think it’s the latter.

  My whole life I’ve been running, trying to escape the past that has always threatened to drag me under. But no more. If I have to run, you can guarantee I’ll be chasing down my future. I have to believe that life has something better to offer, something other than heartache, and I intend to grab onto it with both hands when I find it.

  Perhaps someday the sun will squeeze through the clouds, shining down on both of us. That is my eternal wish.

  But for now, just remember – during some of my darkest times, you provided a break in the fog, and no matter what happens, I will always remember you as my knight in shining armor.

  Always,

  Stormy

  The End.

  Dear Reader:

  I hope you enjoyed Weathering Stormy. If you’d like to leave feedback about your reading experience and share your thoughts with other readers, please leave a review.

  Curious about what lies ahead for Stormy, Brylan, Trudy, and Nozz? Don’t miss book 2 in the Weathering Stormy Series, coming soon. (Please continue reading for a free sneak peek.)

  Bye-bye for now!

  Auburn J. Kelly

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank my wonderful family for their love and encouragement throughout this process. I couldn’t have done it without you.

  And to Paula Schneider, your editing skills and your continuous support have been an invaluable asset. I cannot thank you enough.

  Of course, I would like to send out a very special word of thanks to my readers for letting me share Stormy’s story with you.

  About the Author

  Auburn J Kelly lives in a tiny rural town in Texas with her husband, two teenage sons, and a neurotic cat. When she’s not sketching or painting, you might find her browsing antiques in some quaint little shop. However, nine times out of ten, she’s likely to be nestled in a corner somewhere with her nose in a book.

  As a writer of romantic fiction, Auburn draws inspiration from the world around her. She is fascinated by the complexity of human emotion and its impact on behavior. Writing has turned out to be the perfect outlet for that interest, as well as providing another channel for her creativity.

  She is the author of the novella, Alternate Route (available on Amazon), and will soon be releasing Finding Grace, Part two of the Weathering Stormy Series.

  Free Preview of Finding Grace

  Chapter One

  There was something ominous about the stack of boxes that were glaring at her. Sorting through her mother’s things was something Stormy had been dreading for weeks, but her old landlord had forced her hand by threatening to throw them in the dumpster. So, here she was, back in Yaupon, Texas, the place she vowed to never set foot in again, forced to dig into the past she’d been so eager to forget.

  “Come on, sweetie. It’s time to rip off the bandage.” Trudy, Stormy’s best friend and current roommate, laid a hand on her shoulder as a gentle encouragement.

  Stormy’s body sagged in defeat and she let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Do I really have to? Can’t we just take them with us so I can unpack them later?”

  Trudy’s soft blue eyes met Stormy’s cloudy gray ones. “I know this is hard for you, baby. But it’s better this way. Trust me.” She rubbed soothing little circles on Stormy’s back in an attempt to comfort her. “Plus, I don’t know where we’d store them all in that tiny apartment of ours.”

  Stormy gave a slow nod. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I can’t hide from it anymore.” What she didn’t say, was that the boxes weren’t the only thing she wanted to get away from. Being back in Yaupon was just a cruel reminder of a long list of losses she’d endured in the last six months.

  It’s where her mother died.

  It’s where Brylan was.

  Brylan. She’d written him a letter, had Nozz hand deliver it to him, along with the address to her new post office box. And now she waited with bated breath.

  Had been waiting for weeks.

  With all that had happened between them and all the chaos she was drowning in at the time, a letter seemed like the best approach. It put the ball in Brylan’s court. A test of sorts, to see if his feelings ran as deep as he claimed they did, to verify whether or not the whole thing had been a fluke—just a petty fli
rtation between two people who’d been thrown together by circumstance.

  She needed to know. Did she and Brylan share something special? Or was she building imaginary castles in the sky, deluding herself with grandiose ideas, so desperate for something—or someone—to cling to that she hadn’t seen things for what they really were?

  It had certainly felt real.

  Stormy sat down on the living room floor of the old trailer and opened the flaps of the first box labeled Mama’s clothing. She coughed as the dust wafted up toward her face. “Geez, how did so much dust accumulate on this stuff is so short a time?” Stormy stared at the contents while trying to swallow back the hard lump in her throat. It was full of old tank tops with catchy slogans and jeweled designs emblazoned on them, a couple of frilly, western blouses, and several pairs of worn out jeans.

  Her mother’s attire had been simple, but her mama had worn them well. That is, before the drugs and the booze had taken hold of her.

  “Hey, Trudy. Hand me a Sharpie and that roll of masking tape.” With the black marker in hand, she put a new label on the box and scrolled the word donate across it. There was nothing in the box that she wanted, and she felt better knowing that somebody else might put the clothes to good use.

  Trudy smiled at her. “Progress.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” She looked around the room and wrinkled her nose. “Only eleven more to go.”

  ****

  “What about this one, sweetie?” Three hours into their rummaging, Trudy held up a simple white lamp with a faded, sickly green lampshade. It had seen better days. “Trash, donate, keep, or sell?”

  “Uh, keep the lamp…but toss the shade. There’s one in your shop that I think would look awesome on it.”

  Trudy stared at the lamp while tapping a manicured finger to her lip. “Ah! I think I know which one you’re talking about…the lilac one with the crystals draped around the bottom?”

  Stormy smiled at her. “That’s the one,” she said while writing sell in sharpie on the flap of one of the three remaining boxes. With Trudy’s help, they were making good progress. The task was less daunting with her pitching in. In the weeks since her mama’s passing, Trudy had been a godsend. She’d taken Stormy into her home, comforted her, and gave her time to heal. And then the two of them had concocted a plan together.

  “So, how much longer before Trudy’s Two is up and running?”

  “Couple of weeks, maybe a month…if all goes well.”

  Stormy stood up to stretch the soreness out of her back from having been stooped over for so long. She walked over to the kitchen and grabbed her Styrofoam cup of watered down Coke, taking a big gulp while surveying the remaining contents of the living room. A sense of dread was nibbling around the edges of her mind. The deed was almost done and soon she’d be closing the final chapter on that part of her life—the part that had her mama had been a part of.

  She pushed the thoughts away with a subtle shake of her head.

  “Who would have ever thought you and I would be living together in San Marcos? It’s still so surreal.” Though she vaguely remembered sitting in the leasing agent’s office and signing the papers, the memory of it felt more like the remnants of a dream.

  During a time when nothing about her life made any damned sense at all and she was drifting aimlessly about in a blanket of fog, Trudy had thrown her a lifeline. Unbeknownst to Stormy, Trudy had already been making plans to leave Yaupon and open a second store, but she’d put her plans on the back burner when Marni died…when Stormy needed her the most. And with Stormy so desperate to escape, Trudy set her plans in motion…with one minor modification. She was taking Stormy with her.

  “Oh, baby. It was time. I needed to shake the dust of this place off my feet and try something new. And I think San Marcos is a good location for a second store, don’t you?”

  Stormy nodded in agreement. San Marcos seemed like a perfect fit for both of them. A place for new beginnings. It wasn’t a big city, but it was full of youth and vitality, constantly buzzing with activity. A small college town, Trudy’s Two, with its ostentatious, youthful flair and cozy atmosphere was sure to attract customers. Especially since Stormy had talked her into serving her specialty coffees and offering free WiFi.

  Stormy pulled her attention back to the contents on the floor, knowing that she had one more box to sift through…and looking forward to it about as much as catching the flu. So far it hadn’t been that bad. Mama’s clothing and miscellaneous trinkets hadn’t bothered her much, but the last one was going to be tough. It was full of mementos and personal effects.

  “I’m going to start loading some of these in the back of the truck while you sort through the last of it,” Trudy gave Stormy a knowing look that was just a bit unsettling. The woman’s intuition or sixth sense, as she called it, bordered on scary sometimes.

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  She opened the remaining box and picked up a photo album full of cheesy grins and awkward poses. She’d forgotten how much Mama had liked to snap pictures when Stormy was a kid. She flipped to a picture they’d taken at Mustang Island and her mama’s laugh floated through her mind. She was surrounded by seagulls and screaming when they swooped down towards her, and Mama thought it was hilarious. Failing to see the humor, Stormy ran from the greedy rats with wings, convinced they were after more than her bologna sandwich. “Stormy…they don’t bite!” Mama had cackled at her.

  “Then why are they chasing me?” Stormy cried while running through the warm, heavy sand.

  “They’re just hungry. Toss ‘em a piece of your bread.”

  Stormy did as she was told, flinging it over her head, and then her eyes lit with amazement when one of the birds caught the bread in mid air. “Wow, did you see that?” she’d beamed at her mother.

  “I sure did.”

  Stormy found herself smiling at the memory. The two of them spent a good chunk of the afternoon feeding the gulls bread and chips and whatever else they could find.

  And then her eyes landed on a picture of Jimmy. She had almost forgotten what he looked like. And there he was…one arm around Mama, and the other holding up a big catfish and grinning from ear to ear. He was handsome she supposed. Rugged, with one of those smiles that made his whole face crinkle, and it automatically made you smile with him even if you didn’t know what he was grinning about.

  Stormy hadn’t thought about Jimmy in a long time and she was just starting to realize how much she missed him. He and her mama hadn’t been together for more than a year, but he’d been good to them. He was the only person who’d ever actually cared enough to step in and be a father to her…or tried to, until her mother pushed him away.

  A bubble of resentment threatened to make its way to the top and Stormy pushed it back down. She took the photo out of the album and stared at it, remembering their camping trip at Lake…she couldn’t remember the name of it, but what she did remember was how mad Jimmy had gotten when the raccoons kept stealing their hotdogs from the picnic table before he had a chance to put them on the grill. Stormy and her mama stood at the door of the RV snickering while Jimmy shooed them away with his cap, yelling, “Get on out of here! Damn rotten masked bandits!”

  She giggled at the memory and brushed a lone tear away with the back of her hand and then slid the photo back into its rightful place before setting the album aside. Next inside was a smaller box, an old shoebox that housed broken costume jewelry, some crusty old batteries, a handful of loose change, a stack of homemade greeting cards that were scrawled in crayon, and Mama’s old driver’s license.

  She traced the postage stamp sized photo with her finger as her heart wrenched. Her mama had been so young and fresh once, and Stormy was awed at how someone could look so good in a DMV photo. She tucked the license in her back pocket and then put the shoebox and the photo albums back inside. It was pretty clear that this box was going home with her.

  Home.

  The notion of it seemed so bizarre to her, packing up and mo
ving someplace without Mama. It hardly made any damned sense. Mama was supposed to be there.

  Wiping away another tear, she taped up the box and took it out to her old, beat up Ford and placed it in the middle of the bench seat. There was no way she was risking it being donated or thrown away by accident.

  Trudy was leaning against the side of the truck, retying the red bandana that was holding her burgundy curls in place. “You okay, kid?” Her voice was soft and sympathetic.