My Storm

by Tiffany Patterson

  “You ready?” Coral startles me out of my thoughts.

  I jump hearing her voice behind me. “Yeah.” I clear my throat. “Yup, I’m ready.”

  “You sure you’re okay?” she asks curiously.

  “I’m fine.”

  She stares at me for a while, trying to read me.

  I hate when she does that. “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “You know what. You’re treating me like I’m one of your suspects or something; trying to read me for any trace of deception.”

  “Trace of deception?” Coral raises an eyebrow, smirking.

  I lower my head and grin. “Yeah. I’ve been doing research for a character. One who reads people’s body language and that term comes up frequently.”

  “Listen to you sounding like Harriet the Spy,” she teases.

  “Shut up,” I retort.

  “Let’s go. Mitch is meeting us at the front gate,” she grumbles as we both climb into her Mercedes.

  It’s not the same Mercedes she had ten years ago. This one is a newer version of the car Liam bought her as a graduation gift. Mitch is Coral’s security guard anytime she leaves home. It’s been months, but she’s still pissed that Liam is forcing her to travel everywhere with security.

  “How’s it going with Mitch these days?” I question, knowing it will lead to a rant.

  She snorts. “I can’t believe Li is still doing this. Don’t get me wrong. Mitch is a good guy and all, but I can take care of myself.”

  That’s what she always says. And I’m sure there isn’t a person alive who has met Coral and doesn’t realize she’s capable of handling herself. I’ve no doubt that the very car we’re riding in has no less than two weapons at her immediate disposal. But I am grateful my brother-in-law takes such good care of her even if it ruffles her feathers a little bit.

  “Everyone knows you can take care of yourself, but you also deserve to be taken care of. No one does that better than Liam Bennett.”

  “Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes as we turn onto the highway that will lead us to the community center where she’s the director. Mitch is right behind us in his dark SUV.

  Although, I’m looking out the window, I can feel Coral’s eyes on me.

  “What?”

  “That was an unexpected surprise this morning,” she says, catching me off guard.

  “What was?”

  “Don’t play dumb. I know you didn’t burst in the kitchen expecting to see Jeremy.”

  I shrug nonchalantly. “No, he’s not there most mornings. Why would I have expected him to be there today?”

  “No reason. Just making conversation. That was the first time you’ve seen him in how long?”

  One month, two weeks, and three days. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s been a few weeks, I guess.”

  I can tell Coral knows I’m lying, but being the dutiful sister she is, she doesn’t call me on it. The truth is I have every encounter with Jeremy committed to memory. From the first time I saw him standing next to Liam, as they waited for Coral to walk down the aisle they’d set up in their backyard for the second wedding ceremony in the presence of all their family and friends. I remember the way the sun glinted off his dark brown hair that he let flow freely. Even today I recall the way his jaw moved as he worked the ever-present toothpick on the side of his mouth. I remember later that day how I felt like I was falling into an abyss as he held me the one time we danced together. Strangely, the usual recoil I have when meeting someone new, especially a man, wasn’t there. His embrace felt natural. I can even recollect the sadness I felt when I saw him a month later, and he’d cut his hair so that it only fell to his chin.

  “Earth to Tasha,” Coral interrupts my fantasizing. “You in there?”

  “Y-yeah. What were you saying?”

  “I was saying we’re here.” She frowns at me.

  I turn and indeed, we’re parked in front of the community center. “Oh.” I avoid eye contact with Coral, unfasten my seatbelt, and get out of the car.

  She is still frowning at me even as Mitch opens her door for her and helps her out of the car. “Thank you,” she says.

  “Hey, Ms. Coral and Ms. Tasha,” a couple of the younger kids greet us when we first enter.

  It’s the beginning of July, so the kids are all out of school for the summer and many of them love nothing more than spending their days here for our day camp.

  “Good morning, Jayshawn and Michael,” Coral and I greet the boys.

  Once they leave, I follow Coral to her office. When she turns the lights on, the first thing I see on her wall is a huge poster of the cover of my first book, “Danica’s Odyssey.” Right next to it is a poster of the second book cover, “Danica’s Quest” and then the cover for “Danica’s Conquest,” my third book. I knew the posters were there because I’ve been to Coral’s office a number of times in the last few months. But seeing them always startles me. I stare at the posters for a few seconds, my pride turning into a somber feeling as I think about the writer’s block I’ve been experiencing over the last few months. I’ve been writing and making up stories since I first learned to write at the age of five and I’ve never experienced anything like this. I have no idea how to handle it.

  “Hey, you’re not supposed to be thinking about writing right now. You’re here to help out with the kids,” Coral reminds me.

  “I know, but it just sucks. I hate this,” I say, feeling like a failure.

  “I know, but it’ll work out. You just moved across the country not too long ago. Maybe you just need time to adjust to your new surroundings.”

  I shrug. “Maybe that’s it. I doubt it, though.” I don’t tell Coral that I suspect there’s another reason behind my writer’s block.

  “How about you do the reader’s circle this afternoon? They’ve almost finished ‘Danica’s Odyssey’ and they absolutely can’t get enough of it.”

  I smirk at that. The readers circle is for the kids ages nine to about twelve years old and it takes place in the midafternoon right before they’re picked up to go home. I’ve read from my book for them before. The interesting part is no one here except Coral actually knows I’m the author of the Danica series. I write under a pen name and I’ve made it clear to my agent and publisher that I wish to remain anonymous. I haven’t done the usual promotional tours, bookstore signings, or anything else that requires face-to-face interaction. Still, even with my reluctance to get out there in person, Danica’s book series has sold like hotcakes. Despite the great sales, I’ve been getting even more of a push from my agent to step out from behind the books and show my face.

  “Earth to Tasha,” Coral summons again.

  “Sorry. I did it again.” I grin. I have a tendency to get lost in my own thoughts even while in mid conversation. I think it’s the writer in me. I spend so much time in my head that it becomes habitual to forget others are around.

  “I’m used to it. Let’s go. I’ve got to stop by the classrooms and different groups before I get a swim in with the older kids.”

  I nod and follow Coral out. I watch her do her thing, conferring with the teachers and staff who work there during the summer, before she heads off to her office to change into her bathing suit and shorts to swim with the older kids. I watch her retreating back. This is a huge difference from her previous job of running all over the world trying to save it, but she’s taken to it like a fish to water. I have to confess I’m so relieved too. I hated the thought of Coral being in such danger at all times. Life’s not guaranteed to any of us, but at least she’s safer now, and I know Liam will do his best to protect her at all times. I smile at that thought just as I spot Mitch following Coral toward the pool.

  ****

  “Are you going to read to us now, Ms. Tasha?” Lucy, one of the children asks as we finish up our lunch.

  I grin at the bit of ranch dressing she has on her cheek from the salad she just scarfed down. “Yes, Lucy.” I laugh, handing her a napkin to w
ipe her face. I turn the lights in the lunchroom down low and take my seat toward the front while the children move closer.

  I pick up the book to see where they have left off in the story. Each day a different counselor or teacher reads to them a bit after lunch to calm them down before their parents pick them up.

  “Oh, this is one of my favorite parts. Danica’s in big trouble since the wizard has stolen her ability to see into the future,” I say out loud.

  “But you haven’t been here in forever, Ms. Tasha. How do you know what happened to Danica?” one of the children asks, catching me off guard.

  “Are you kidding me? I’ve been reading on my own. I love reading about Danica,” I explain, covering the fact that I’m the one who actually wrote the book. The name of the author on the cover reads “L.T. Jones.” L.T. is for LaTasha, but Jones is my grandmother’s last name. I chose it to pay homage to the woman who first encouraged my love of reading and writing. “Okay, let’s get started. I’m excited to see how she’s going to fix this.”

  I begin reading, getting lost in the world of science fiction, featuring a young girl with afro puffs and skin the color of a dark chocolate Hershey’s bar just like mine. I begin reading, remembering the different stages I went through when I first started writing this book. I laugh at some of the funny parts right along with the children and get sucked into the sad parts like when Danica finally remembers the night her parents were killed. I lose all track of time, and when I look up from the book, I notice that most of the older children are watching me just as enthralled as the younger students. It’s not just them either. Most of the teachers and counselors are standing around the lunch room watching and listening attentively as well. Even Coral is amongst them. I give her a half grin before lowering my head. I may hate the idea of being publicly known as the author, but I’ll never get over the feeling of pure joy at seeing people enjoy the words I’ve written.

  “Okay, guys that’s where we’ll leave it today,” I say, sticking the bookmark inside and closing the book. My book.

  “Awwww,” the children whine.

  “Will you be back tomorrow to read to us? We love it when you read to us, Ms. Tasha?” Jayshawn asks excitedly.

  I give Coral a look before turning back to him. “Sure, I’ll be back tomorrow,” I agree. It’s not like I’ve been able to write.

  I might as well spend my time here. I spend twenty-minutes helping the children pack up all their stuff and prepare themselves to leave for the day. When there are only a handful of children left, most of whom are with their parents talking to their counselors, I notice a girl, who looks to be about twelve years old, waiting by herself. I’ve seen her here on occasion before. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Coral talking to a group of her staff, so instead of asking her about the girl, I wander over to her. I don’t know what has drawn me to her nor do I question it.

  “Hi,” I greet her.

  Dark brown eyes peer up at me suspiciously. Her golden-brown skin looks a little flushed from the summer heat. “Hey,” she returns and then looks off.

  “It’s hot out here. Do you want to sit inside in the air conditioner while you wait?”

  “No. I’m fine.”

  “Okay. Well, here’s a bottle of water to help. I just got it from inside and brought it out for me, but it looks like you could use it. It’s unopened. See, the seal hasn’t been broken.” I show her that the seal is indeed still intact.

  She eyes me and then eyes the bottle for a moment. I wonder how long she’s been out here waiting to be picked up. Finally, she grabs the bottle and opens it after some effort. She gulps half the bottle down in a few swallows. For some reason, I start to feel an ache in my chest for the little girl who I’ve suddenly become drawn to. She reminds me of someone…someone who used to wait outside of school sometimes for hours because their mother had forgotten about them.

  “I’m Ms. Tasha. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Ms. Coral’s sis… uh… friend,” I introduce. “What’s your name?”

  “Trudy,” she answers before taking another sip of water.

  “Do you want another bottle of water?” I ask as she finishes the first one.

  Trudy looks at the empty bottle as if she’s just realized the water is all gone. Then she looks back at me and nods.

  “Okay. Hang on.” I dash inside to the kitchen and grab two more bottles of water, an apple, and an orange from the fridge. “Here,” I say, passing the water and fruit to Trudy, while keeping one of the bottles for myself. “Did you enjoy story time today?” I attempt to make conversation as we wait.

  “It was cool.” She shrugs.

  “Have you read any of Danica’s stories before?”

  “Nah. I just heard them here. I liked the part where she tricked the wizard into thinking she was bigger than she was and was able to stop him,” she says, becoming excited. But before she gets too wrapped up in her excitement, she deflates. “It’s cool.” She shrugs.

  I nod. “I liked that part too. Will you be back tomorrow? I’ll be reading again.”

  “I dunno. If my mama can bring me, I guess I will.”

  “Well, I hope you’ll be here. I think we might finish the book.”

  Her eyes widen just a bit, and I can tell she’s interested, but she quickly recovers. Before I can get another word out, a honking horn grabs her attention and mine.

  “Trudy! Come on, girl. I ain’t got all day!” a woman in the passenger’s seat yells out.

  Trudy quickly grabs her belongings along with the water and fruit. “Bye.” She waves.

  “Bye, Trudy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She looks at me and gives the faintest smile before turning and running to the dark red vehicle. She climbs in the back seat and before she’s even had time to fasten her seatbelt, the car pulls off. I watch as the car heads down the street and rounds the corner, a sad feeling growing in my chest.

  “Hey. I’ve got some paperwork to do in my office for a little while and then Laura’s nanny will drop her off here. We’ll probably go to the children’s museum for a little bit. You cool with hanging out or I can take you home?” Coral asks, coming up behind me.

  “I’ll hang out with you guys for the day. Laura’s lucky to have a mom like you,” I say, remembering how the woman I suspect was Trudy’s mother had treated her just a few minutes earlier.

  “I’m not her mother. I’m just…” Coral trails off.

  “Yeah, yeah…”

  We’ve had this discussion before when Coral told me that Liam had brought up the issue of her possibly adopting Laura.

  “I’ll read on my tablet while you work and wait for Laura out here. Oh, before I forget, Stacey is coming next week for a visit,” Coral informs me.

  My eyes widen as I look at my sister. “For what?”

  Stacey is Coral’s younger sister and my other older sister; only she doesn’t know about me.

  “She has a work conference to attend here in Dallas and she’ll extend her trip a few days to visit.” She shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Maybe this time you can actually talk with her and you know…tell her the truth.” She gives me an expectant look as if waiting for me to say something.

  For months, Coral has been trying to get me to reveal the truth to Stacey.

  “Tash, I know you’re scared and nervous, but Stacey is the least judgmental person you’ll come across. She’s a social worker for God’s sake. And you don’t have to tell her everything all at once.”

  I wince at the word everything. Naturally, I don’t want to tell Stacey or anyone else about my tragic past. But looking at my sister whose eyes now shine with empathy, I remember she’s the only living person in my life who I’ve trusted since I was a child.

  “All right, Coral, let me think about it.” I grin when her expression turns hopeful. I even laugh, realizing how much more expressive with her emotions she’s become since marrying Liam. Then again, it might just be pregnancy hormones. “I’m not making any guarantees,” I hed
ge. “I’m just thinking about it.”

  “That’s more than you’ve offered to do in the past, so I’ll take it. All right. Let me go get some work done, so when Laura gets here we can head out.”

  Chapter 3

  Tasha

  “Dammit!” I yell as I toss yet another shitty sketch of a scene I’ve been trying to work out in my head. I’ve found that it sometimes helps to try and draw out a scene when I’m having trouble writing it. Second to writing, I love drawing. It usually helps, but not this time. Frustrated, I stand from my chair and head to my bedroom, pushing my recently laundered load of clothes to the far side of my bed so I can sit down. I take a seat with my laptop perched on my lap. I don’t even know what I’m doing until I pull up a website for an event I saw happening tonight at a club not too far outside of the Dallas area.

  “Wearing leather is highly encouraged,” I read out loud. For months I’ve been reading about different “scenes” in the BDSM community since I discovered a certain someone with green eyes was into it. I wonder if he’s going to be at this club tonight. “I doubt it,” I say to myself, recognizing this event was mostly for people who lightly played around and weren’t serious players. And according to a conversation I’d overhead—okay, okay more like eavesdropped on between Coral and Liam, Jeremy more than dabbles in this community. I’ve spent many nights wondering what it would be like to be tied up or to feel the sting of his hand or flogger against my skin as he peers down at me through those long dark lashes. Damn! Just thinking about it causes a tingling sensation between my —thighs, which is something no one has ever caused to happen to me before.