by Pandora Pine
Tennyson started to laugh. “You really think so?”
“Every family has problems, Ten. What matters is how you come out of them. Look at you. You moved away, you have two successful careers, you’re about to get married, and fatherhood is on your horizon. I’d say you survived your family problems pretty well. It’s your parents who stayed stuck in the past. They’re the ones who missed out on the last thirteen years of your life. Your father never got to see you again, babe. The only way he had of finding out what a fine man you’d turned out to be was because we ended up on that damn reality show. The only chance he ever got to apologize to you was because you had the ability to talk to dead people thanks to a gift that he’d condemned you for years earlier.”
Ronan was making a lot of sense tonight. Tennyson set his hand over Ronan’s heart. “Bottom line here is that I’ve done all the growing over the last thirteen years and I have to be patient enough to let my mother catch up.”
Ronan was silent for a moment. “Yeah, I think that’s it. Kaye knows we’re getting married and starting a family. She also knows we want her in our lives and that the ball is in her court. Technically, after she learns to drive, our job here is done, Lone Ranger.”
Ten grinned against the hot skin of Ronan’s chest. He moved to straddle his lover’s prone body. “If I’m the Lone Ranger, does that make you Tonto?”
“Babe, with the way your cock is digging into my stomach, I’ll be anything you want me to be.” Ronan reached up to stroke his hardness through the tight fabric of his boxer briefs.
Tennyson felt himself starting to relax under Ronan’s expert touch. They might not have solved any of the pressing issues keeping them in Kansas, but they could worry about that in the morning. Right now, the Lone Ranger needed to cowboy up.
36
Ronan
Ronan was going to die. He’d survived the police academy, thirteen years as a member of the Boston Police Department, being shot in the shoulder by an enraged Manuel Garcia last summer, and being shot in the chest three times by Mark Abruzzi back in August, but this was it. Kaye Grimm behind the wheel of her dead husband’s Toyota was going to be the end of him.
Fitzgibbon and his balls of steel were sitting in the front seat instructing Kaye, while Tennyson and Greeley were sitting with him in the back seat. Ronan had no idea driving at fifteen miles per hour in an abandoned mall parking lot was going to be what finally took him out.
“It’s okay, Uncle Ronan. You can open your eyes now.” Greeley elbowed him in the ribs.
Ronan was about to do just that when the car came to a hard stop, throwing him against his already engaged seatbelt. “Ouch! My spleen!” Ronan groaned. “I’m still recovering from gunshot wounds for Pete’s sake!”
“Is he always this big of a baby?” Kaye asked.
“No,” Ten said on a laugh. “Usually, he’s worse.”
Ronan shot him a dirty look and flipped him the bird. “Thanks for throwing me under the bus.”
“Am I lying?” Ten blew him a kiss in return.
No, Tennyson wasn’t lying, but that was beside the point. He shouldn’t have to spend his last moments on this good earth fighting with the love of his life or having his liver strangled by his seatbelt.
“That time was much better, Kaye. Just remember that you don’t have to stomp on the brake pedal like it’s a spider on your clean kitchen floor. Ease the pedal down. Okay?”
“This is hopeless.” Kaye shook her head. “We’ve been out here for two hours and I’m not getting any better.”
“Now that’s not true and you know it, Kaye,” Greeley said. “You haven’t hit any curbs in nearly forty-five minutes now and Ronan’s stopped saying the Hail Mary out loud. I think you’ve made a big improvement.” Greeley shifted in his seat so he could smile brightly into the rearview mirror.
“Ronan was saying the Hail Mary? In my car?” The outraged tone was back in Kaye’s voice.
Ten rolled his eyes. “Ronan can’t help that he was raised Catholic, Mom. At least he believes in Jesus and says his prayers.”
“Gee, thanks. I think.” Ronan looked into the rearview mirror where he saw Kaye giving him the stink-eye. “Oh, come on, Kaye. You can’t tell me you weren’t praying too.”
“I wasn’t saying Papist prayers.” Her lips twisted into a sneer.
“Well, of course you weren’t, but God obviously heard us both.” Ronan’s tone was testy.
“What do mean?” Her eyes narrowed.
“We’re alive, aren’t we?”
“Praise Jesus!” Greeley crowed.
Ronan started to laugh. He couldn’t help himself.
“Let’s try again, Kaye. If the peanut gallery could please quiet down back there?” Fitzgibbon turned around and shot Ronan and Greeley warning looks.
Ronan bit his lip to keep from laughing at the serious look on his boss’s face. He’d worked with Fitzgibbon for over a year now and he’d never seen a look like that on Kevin’s face. Teaching Kaye to drive and be self-sufficient was serious business.
As the next hour passed. Kaye got better at making turns and slowing the car down gradually. Ronan’s seatbelt didn’t engage again.
“Kaye, I think your first lesson was a success.” Fitzgibbon patted her shoulder. “Let’s celebrate by teaching you how to pump your own gas.”
Kaye turned to Fitzgibbon and burst out laughing.
Ronan leaned around Greeley to look at Tennyson who was looking back at him with his mouth hanging open as if that were a sound he’d never heard before. Ronan had never heard it on this trip, that was for sure.
Kevin hopped out of the car and opened Kaye’s door for her. She was still laughing. He held out his hand for her when she finally managed to unbuckle her seatbelt.
“Wait until Kaye finds out Dad isn’t kidding.” Greeley shook his head and started to laugh.
Kevin got Kaye settled into the passenger seat of the car and was about to buckle himself into the driver’s seat when a siren started to wail. “Jesus Christ what is that?” He turned to Kaye.
“Kevin, how many times do I have to tell you not to take the name of the Lord in vain?” Kaye asked, sounding worn to the bone.
“I’m sorry, Kaye, but that siren sounds pretty serious. What’s it for?” Fitzgibbon looked like he was holding onto his patience by a shred.
“Oh, it’s just the tornado siren.” Kaye waved her left hand in the air.
“The tornado siren?” Ronan perked up at the sound of that. He looked out the car window and saw some very dark clouds off to the west. “Shouldn’t we get to a storm cellar?” He’d seen the movie Twister enough times to know tornadoes were nothing to screw around with.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Kaye said.
A mechanized siren started beeping on Greeley’s phone. He bent forward to pull it out of his back pocket.
“What the hell is that?” Fitzgibbon turned around to look into the backseat.
“It’s my phone.” Greeley held it up to show him. “I programmed Union Chapel into the Swift 9-1-1 App so that if there were any warnings we’d get them.”
Ronan knew Massachusetts had that kind of system set up as well.
“Young man, I didn’t understand a word you just said.” There was a smile in Kaye’s voice.
“Do you ever get reverse 9-1-1 calls on your landline, Kaye?” Ronan asked.
“You mean like a robotic call when there’s an emergency?”
“Yes, that’s it exactly. This is a system for cell phone and email alerts. We have them back in Boston for things like snow emergencies, flash floods, and Amber Alerts. I guess this county uses them for tornado warnings too.”
“That was smart thinking, son. What is the warning saying?” Fitzgibbon sounded completely calm.
“A tornado warning has been issued for all of Union Township. All residents should seek shelter immediately. Get to the closest storm cellar or the lowest level of your home and remain there until this warning has passed
. This warning is in effect from 11:22am until 1230pm CST. A funnel cloud has been spotted on the ground in the area of Route 20 near the border of Severance and...” Greeley’s voice cracked.
“And what, Greeley?” Ronan asked, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. He knew exactly what town Severance bordered on Route 20.
“Union Chapel,” Greeley whispered.
“Kaye, where’s the closest storm cellar to where we are now?” Fitzgibbon’s voice was dead calm.
“At the church.” Kaye pulled down the sun visor and started tucking strands of hair behind her ears.
“Which church? This is Kansas. There’s one every ten feet here.” Fitzgibbon’s voice held a note of frustration. Kevin flipped the visor up, sending the mirror clanking closed.
“My church. The one we had David’s funeral at.” Kaye shot Kevin an annoyed look. “What is wrong with you? We haven't had a tornado in Union Chapel in years. It's tornado season in Kansas, Kevin. Those sirens go off all the time. I’m sure this is nothing.”
It didn’t sound like nothing to Ronan. He looked over at Tennyson, who was opening his car door and climbing out. Ronan followed suit.
Tennyson was facing to the west when Ronan joined him. Greeley and Kevin were quick to follow. “What do you see, Nostradamus?”
“This isn’t good, Ronan.” Ten pointed to the west, where the sky was so dark, it looked like midnight. Forks of lightning lit up the sky. “Those are cumulonimbus clouds, one of the tell-tale signs of tornadic activity. The alert says there was a funnel spotted on the ground. Storms like this are known to spawn more than one tornado.”
“Why the hell is Kaye being so nonchalant?” Ronan couldn’t help but ask.
“She’s right that the sirens go off all the time during tornado season. The last time Union Chapel was actually hit by a storm was in 2005, but it was only an EF0. That means winds as high as 70 miles per hour. That’s about as high as baby wind gusts during a good snow storm back home. Mom's lived in Kansas all her life. She's one of those people who actually stands outside and looks for funnel clouds. She’s either got a death wish, so she can join my father, or she’s been lulled into a false sense of security. Either way, we need to get the fuck out of dodge.” Ten shook his head.
“How about a tornado selfie before we go?” Greeley asked, looking scared to death.
Ronan snorted. “What the hell? Get close everyone.”
Greeley held up his phone and took two snaps. “Okay, let’s make like a banana and split.” Rain started slashing down and thunder rolled in the distance. Greeley dashed for the car.
Fitzgibbon fired the car to life and quickly sped out of the parking lot. He turned the radio on and scanned the AM dial looking for an all-news station. He quickly found one. “Kaye, I need you to pay attention. If they start talk about the roads we need to take being blocked or being in the danger zone, speak up and tell me. Guys,” Fitzgibbon made eye contact with Ronan in the rear-view mirror, “I need you to be storm spotters. Keep your eyes out for the funnel cloud. Jesus Christ in heaven, I can’t believe I’m saying those words. Tennyson, are you getting anything on this?”
“Kevin, please do not take the name of the Lord in vain in my car and do not ask my son to invoke his devil powers.” Kaye patted her hair and scowled at Kevin.
“Ten?” Kevin asked as if he hadn’t heard a word Kaye just said.
“My spirit guides are surprisingly quiet at the moment, but weather conditions aside, something is off.”
“What kind of off, Ten? Off like we’re gonna get swept up in this thing and end up in fucking Oz? Or off like the barometric pressure is making your ears pop?”
“I’m not sure.” Ten shot Ronan a confused look. “I’m getting a sense of foreboding, but nothing more specific than that. Sorry. This is one of those times I wish my gift was a bit more specific.”
Fitzgibbon turned on to Route 20. “How far away is the church, Kaye?”
“About ten minutes.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked out the window. The rain was slashing against the glass.
The rain was pouring down so hard that the windshield wipers were having a hard time keeping up with the flow. “How the hell are we going to be able to see the funnel if we can’t see two feet in front of the car?” Ronan wasn’t going to say it out loud, but he was terrified. He reached out to Tennyson. Ten took his hand and held on tight. Greeley set both of his hands down on the pile.
Ronan started reciting the Our Father in his head. He prayed that God could hear him and would spare his friends.
37
Tennyson
“Dad?” Tennyson shouted. “If you can hear me, help us out here, please. You were the one who insisted I come to Kansas to help Mom. I can’t think of a better time to help her than right now!”
“Tennyson Grimm, you stop that this instant! This instant!” Kaye screamed. “You know darn well your father is dead and buried in the Union Chapel Baptist Cemetery. He can’t help us now any more than Captain Thor!”
“Hello, son,” David Grimm said. He was sitting in the front seat between Fitzgibbon and Kaye.
“Hi, Dad.” Ten waggled his eyebrows at Ronan. “Thanks for showing up when we needed you most. Where’s the funnel cloud?”
“For the love of God, Tennyson. When this is over we’re going to have a long discussion about getting you some serious mental help.”
“Shut up, Mom!” Tennyson yelled. “Dad, where’s the tornado?”
“It’s to the left of Route 20. Right now, the road is clear. Tell Fitzgibbon to gun it.”
“David said the tornado is to the left of 20. Gun it.” Tennyson dug his free hand into the top of the seat in front of him.
Fitzgibbon nodded and obeyed. The engine roared and picked up speed. The wipers were working on high and it wasn’t enough to keep up with the deluge.
“Tell him to slow down, hail is coming.” David shouted.
“Slow down. Hail.” Ten cried out.
Fitzgibbon slowed the car just as the hail started to pelt down. It wasn’t the tiny dime-sized hail New England occasionally got during a rare violent thunderstorm. Tennyson would swear these were golf ball-sized hunks of ice.
“Oh my God,” Greeley buried his face against Ronan’s shoulder.
Fitzgibbon kept driving. Tennyson could see his knuckles turning white as they gripped the steering wheel. The windshield cracked when a larger piece of hail hit the glass. Greeley yelped in response.
“We’re almost there, Kevin. It’s your next left.” Tennyson directed. “Dad, where’s the cloud now?”
“It’s coming, son. You’re going to need to park and run like the Dickens.” The look on David’s face was grim. “You may have to carry your mother.”
“Kevin, the cellar is at the opposite end of the parking lot from the cemetery. Park as close as you can. Drive on the grass if you have to. It looks like bulkhead basement doors we have at home. My father says it’s gonna be close.”
“Close?” Fitzgibbon fairly howled. “What do you mean close?”
Ten took a deep breath. “We’re gonna have to race the storm, according to David.”
“Tennyson, you stop this right now!” Kaye shouted, sounding terrified.
“Mom, do you really want to doubt my gift at a time like this?” Ten couldn’t believe they were actually fighting about this now.
“Tennyson, tell her about Alfred Lord Tennyson’s garden. That should make her believe in you.”
Ten didn’t have time to ask his father what he was talking about. Fitzgibbon had taken a wide turn into the church parking lot and he was racing toward the storm cellar doors. “Mom, Dad wants me to mention Alfred Lord Tennyson’s garden to prove that he’s here with us.” And to prove my gift is real, is what he wanted to say, but this wasn’t the moment to pound his chest like Tarzan.
Kaye’s face went pale. Her mouth shut with a clack of her teeth. She turned around without saying a word.
Obviously w
hatever Ten had said worked. If they lived through this, he was going to make sure to ask Kaye what the hell David had been talking about.
“When I park this car, Tennyson, you help your mother. Ronan, you grab my son. I’ll help whoever needs it. Are we clear?” Fitzgibbon’s voice was still calm. This was the cool and in command police captain Tennyson knew and loved.
“Clear, Cap,” Ronan said.
“Clear,” Ten agreed. He couldn’t imagine his mother accepting his help, but it was either that or get swept away to Oz. If he remembered the story right, they had a job opening for Wicked Witch of the West. If Kaye wanted to apply for it, he was just in the mood to let her and write a smashing letter of recommendation.
Fitzgibbon parked the car. “Ready? Go!”
Tennyson barely had a moment to catch a last glance of Ronan who was bolting out the door and holding a hand out to Greeley. He pushed open his door and had to use all of his strength to shut it again. He pushed forward against the wind to get to Kaye’s door. The rain was slashing against his skin so hard that it hurt.
He could see his mother using all her strength to shove her own door open, but the door wasn’t budging. Whispering a silent prayer, Ten yanked on the door and it flew open in his hands, nearly knocking him off his feet. He reached for Kaye’s hand and was able to help her out of the car. They started running toward the storm cellar, but the screeching of the wind caught his attention. He looked to the right and could see the funnel cloud advancing toward them. The movement of it was mesmerizing.
The tornado was perfect. Like something a team at CGI dreamed up on their computers. The wind was rumbling, reminding Tennyson of speeding freight train, and debris was whipping away from the funnel.
“Jesus Christ, move!” Fitzgibbon grabbed Tennyson’s arm and started dragging him toward the double doors of the cellar.
