The Storm Tamer

by M. Garnet

  One night when he was cupped behind her, the heat of his body holding her to his chest, she thought about their looks. She knew she was nice looking in an okay way, but she wasn't supermodel material.

  At five foot ten inches, she had the long legs that men liked, but her bust was C cup, not D and she wasn't about to go with a cosmetic boost for those ladies. She had thick hair and could wear it long or short so it was natural to frame her face, a face that had good skin and didn't need makeup. Her hazel eyes got comments when she wore green and they matched the green. But the brown in the green did not make them the gem green of his eyes.

  She decided that her smile was what drew most of her admirers. She didn't have dimples, just good teeth and the need to smile often and return smiles and the willingness to laugh often.

  In their lovemaking, he did make comments that were flattering as he told her how beautiful he thought she was and how he loved her long legs and her back, etc., etc. She admitted to herself that his words increased her gratification. She decided lovers should also be poets.

  There came a day when she joined him for supper in his office to find him with the small controller that she had helped him obtain from the frozen mountaintop in Tibet. To her, it only looked to be a beat up piece of metal with a couple of pieces of rock embedded on different sides of the small flat object.

  He was doing something with it and then a small blue light glowed from one side of it to shine on his hand. He played with it some more and seemed okay when the light was off.

  Rahm finally came over to eat and it was one of the quiet suppers. The food was hot and good with pumpkin pie for dessert. She had to admit it was years since she had eaten pumpkin pie and this warm large slice made her wish for another later in the night.

  "I will be gone for a few days," Rahm spoke as he lifted his large mug of coffee.

  Margo looked up at him, licking the fork after her last bite. "Okay. I might go back up at visiting the cattle people. They seem really interesting. Not as crazy as the villagers."

  "Be careful; there will be storms."

  He didn't join her that night and when she got up the next morning, there was no reflection of the sun on her floor. She got out her jacket and went to the kitchen for breakfast with the full figured cook.

  For some reason, Margo was hungry and let the cook serve her up pancakes. There was maple syrup and fresh churned butter and a large cup of fresh milk. Beside her plate was a platter of thick sliced bacon.

  "Thank you. After all that food I need to walk off some of that weight that was put on me. I think I will start up the mountain."

  The cook was cutting vegetables but looked up. "Don't go far because a bad storm is heading our way."

  Waving a hand as Margo left with her jacket, she went out the large opening with both doors held back. The sky was dark gray, so the cook was correct a storm was on its way.

  Staying on the path, she was amazed to see most of the trees and bushes were bare up this high except for pines. The wind was whipping the ground clear of leaves as she moved forward. There was no sound from any of the cattle that she usually heard in the grazing area. Had they moved the cows to a safe area because they were worried about a really bad storm?

  It took her an hour and a half of pushing uphill on the gravel path and she hadn't reached the area where the homes would be off down in the pines. It was at this point that she heard thunder off in the distance. That was her signal that it was time to return.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  It was raining when she returned, and by the time she was in her bedroom, it was as dark as midnight even though it was only a little past noon.

  She lit a couple of candles and went over to his office to look at the back of books to see if she could find anything she might want to read. She did find an interesting section toward the floor close to the table on the hallway wall. It seemed to have historical novels.

  Margo didn't recognize the authors or the titles, so she just pulled out two that were standard size but looked old like all his books. She decided he didn't own or keep anything that came from beyond the nineteenth century.

  When the cook brought up her supper, the cook explained she was going home and would not return until the storm passed. There was food in the warming ovens and a cold deep cellar that was a kitchen door at the left and down another set of steps.

  With a deep sigh, Margo realized she had the large dark mansion all to herself while a monster storm battered away outside. She finally decided one night with a lot of candles and a book to read in her bed wasn't going to be so terrible.

  The rain pelting on her window with the boring book in stilted English finally let her drift off. The flashing of lightning and thunder that shook the solid rock-built mansion woke her. The candle in the holder on her bedside table had burnt down to go out. The constant flashing of lightning allowed her to hunt through the drawer and pull out a couple of full-length candles.

  Scraping out with a fingernail the residue of the last of the candle, she pushed in a new one and found the matches that struck against a pad on the side of the candleholder. Once she had this one lit, she found another one by the door and repeated the process with it to have a couple of glowing lights.

  In her bare feet, she could feel the shudder of the whole home with the constant booming of the thunder. She had no idea of the time. She felt rested so she must have slept for several hours.

  Deciding to go down to the kitchen and get some food while the warming ovens were still holding heat, she walked down the stairs. Although she still was aware of the storm, there was no flashing of lightning showing inside this section of the house. At the bottom of the stairs, she hesitated, knowing something was bothering her.

  At last, she knew what was different. The large heavy doors at the front of the long hallway were closed. She had never seen these doors closed because it was just outside those doors that they always returned instantly when he grabbed her wrist during a storm. They also left from just outside those doors as he magically put them somewhere else.

  Had he closed the doors or had one of the cooks and their help closed the doors due to the storm? She shrugged and went behind the stairs to the kitchen.

  It was warm in here as there was a low fire slowly burning out in the large fireplace. She set her candle down on the long counter pleased to have warm light from the low coals. She went around to a low warming oven to find some sweet rolls, but when she turned to look across the counter at the door that she always entered, there was a clock above it.

  She smiled as she thought about the cooks needing to keep track of time for so many reasons. There would be the need of timing the items they cooked and the time for serving the master. The hands on the timepiece said seven fifteen. So it must be morning, so that explained her natural hunger.

  Not wanting to go through the strange process of making coffee in this old-fashioned kitchen she opened a couple of other doors and found a cooling area that held cheese, butter, and some milk. Milk would do just right with the sweet rolls.

  Even here in this room on a side of the building, the deep rumble of the storm could be felt. She wandered through the old rooms and ate in the kitchen every morning, and by the third day, she felt she needed to find the cellar and get some of the cold items to make cold sandwiches and drink cold milk.

  The door to the downstairs opened smoothly, so with a candleholder in hand; she went down into the cool darkness. It turned out to be just a cave that someone had dug out of the rock of the mountain. There were shelves full of jars and baskets all topped off with items. There were large casks stacked on top of each other of different sizes.

  Right there by the bottom of the steps were a couple of wooden buckets with milk that was still fresh. She had made a mistake and hadn't brought a mug or cup, so she took one bucket and set it on the steps. She went and looked into baskets to find rounds of cheese. There were knives hanging above this section, so she pulled one down and cut a large ch
unk to put next to the bucket of milk.

  Finally, with knife in one hand and candle in the other and seeing her breath in this cold cave, she went deeper and found hanging carcasses. She didn't want to have to cook so she went to the shelves and found sections of roasted and wrapped meat. She took a small section of one that must have been beef and returned to her pieces at the steps.

  She could see the ripples in the milk from the storm outside. Margo had to wonder if this was a storm that Rahm could not control. She left the candle on the bottom step, not having enough hands. It would sit there and safely burn out in its holder.

  Gathering her bucket and food, she went back up and secured the door. She poured a big mug of milk and put the rest into a large pitcher that could be stored in the cooling chamber. It wasn’t so cold now, but better than the kitchen.

  She made one sandwich to eat and one for later and then prowled the house with new candles. She ended in his office for an hour and then a shower and another hour staring out her bedroom window at the storm.

  The lightning let her see intermit views of the damage being done to the forest and the distant village. Water was rising and trees were knocked over and even with so much rain there were fires.

  Margo spent her next two days in this same manner, checking the clock in the kitchen to give her an idea of the time passing. There came a time when she was dozing in the big chair in his office when she felt something was different. She stretched from being curled in her nap and checked the length of the candle.

  Deciding she needed to replace it with a new one, she went to the table on the outer wall and opened the small drawer built into the table they ate on. It wasn't until after she got the new candle lit that she understood what was different. The storm had stopped.

  She went down the stairs and through the long hall to the front doors. Gripping one of the large handles she turned and shoved the one door outward into the gray light of early morning with the sun not yet above the horizon.

  Chapter Thirty

  The smell in the air was different. It wasn't the clean air she was used to in Florida. The air was full of moisture and the sap from broken trees. There was the odor of earth that had been turned over and rocks that had been split.

  There was the strong smell of pine needles that had been stripped from limbs and the dry factor of birds' nests that had been torn asunder. This storm had done a lot of damage to nature.

  But there was something worse. Across the valley was a lake that had formed from edge to edge with only a grip of a forest as the boundary marking its end on all sides. Some of the trees were in the water.

  What she couldn't see was any trace of the village of Better or its inhabitants. Now she stepped further out on the gravel path and headed up the mountain, worried about the cattle people. As she moved up, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her.

  The mountain was taller. She still had a long way to go, but the area that had been a drop off before now had an additional jut above to push over to a taller top. The mountain was whole and tall, and if someone wanted to, they could cross over and walk down the other side.

  She heard some sounds on the upper side of the path and met a young man with a cow on a lead and a calf traipsing along behind.

  She waved and spoke with a smile although she didn't remember this boy. "Hello."

  "Mornin' Mam."

  Margo pointed up at the new mountain peak. "Besides the bad storm, it looks like we had a strong earthquake."

  "Aye, Mistress. Me gramps says this is the second in his lifetime. The mother earth does strange things, but it gives us blessings. This rain is bringing up late grass for our cattle. Course, some of them have wandered off and now have a larger range." The boy laughed as he pulled the leash and went across the path to go on down the slope.

  A thought hit Margo. "Hey, you speak English. Is that the language your people have always spoken?"

  The boy stopped and let the cow dip her head to pull grass. He looked at her for a long moment.

  "Look, Miss, I don't know where you come from, but here in Colorado we have always spoken English." He jerked on the leash and started on down the slope. The evergreen trees in this area were still standing, and he soon disappeared with the little calf loping along.

  She was left standing on the path trying to understand what he had said. Everything was mixed up in her mind because this boy was confirming what Rahm had told her earlier. She was in Colorado.

  Turning around she slowly walked down the path, her eyes playing over the lake that was now highlighted by the sun that had climbed into the sky. She wondered how long it would take for the trees that stuck out of the water to die and fall away.

  Staring at the calm water, it dawned on her that she saw nothing floating on the water. She was grateful that she didn't see any bodies, but she also didn't see any clothing or furniture or paper. It was as if the village had disappeared before the valley began to fill up with water. Had Rahm returned those people to their original homes or to another place in order to save them again?

  Margo put her head down to watch the small gravel she was walking on and slowly returned to the front door. She moved up to the one open side and stood for a second, looking into the long dark hallway. Suddenly she was lifted off her feet, and with arms of steel, she felt her body being moved into the mansion.

  There was no need to be startled as she felt the lips of Rahm press down on her neck as he swiftly took them up the steps. He was home, and he had missed her. His long, strong legs had her into her bedroom before she could even say a word of welcome.

  With a flip, she was on her back, and his kiss was deep. He was not bringing the soft cradling love that they usually gave each other; this was rough and demanding and a need that he had control of. Her clothes were torn to pieces, and she was turned from side to side as he handled her body with some type of urge to touch and kiss and leave a small bite to every part.

  She sighed when he had her against the wall and went with his mouth deep into her between her legs on his shoulders. She came a second time as her hair hung down and she saw the floor with her back to the ceiling. He entered her anally without warning and she shuddered yet his fingers brought her to another orgasm at the same time he emptied into her.

  They both dropped to the bed that creaked with their sudden weight, and they both were sweaty and breathed heavily. He was beside her with her head on his arm, and there were no sounds except for their heavy heartbeats and breaths in and out.

  At last, they both settled down, and the lethargy of pleasure spent let both of them just lay still on the disturbed bed.

  With a small smile, she whispered, "Welcome home."

  Rahm rolled on his side and gathered her to his chest. "I'm sorry, but I needed you so bad." He touched a bruise on the side of one of her breasts.

  It did hurt a little, but the hurt was almost erotic. "I don't think I would like to be greeted like that every time, but as a surprise now and then…well I guess I can use a surprise in my life." She smiled at her words since her whole life now was just one big surprise.

  She lay there in his arms thinking about her life. There was Florida gone and Colorado with earthquakes. There was Tarm, a very handsome but totally evil immortal man, the devil incarnate. There was a village of idiots, and now there was a lake in their place.

  There was a mansion that she hated that was dark without electricity and a couple of cooks who used turn of the century tools. She was wearing boys' clothing and the same jacket she had started out in and it was soon going to be winter in the mountains in Colorado. Florida girls only visited Colorado for short ski weekends.

  "I need a quick shower. I will have breakfast for us in my office. Take your time." He rolled over her, gave her a quick kiss on her forehead and she watch his bare ass with admiration as he left her room. How could she complain about a dark mansion without electricity when she was sleeping with a Greek God?

  Breakfast was warm thick French toast
with maple syrup and chunks of fresh churned butter melting on each slice. Round links of spicy sausage topped off with strong coffee made her eat more than normal and sitting in the big chair with a full stomach and a contented smile as she watched him roll up his scrolls and clear up his desk.

  By the time he was done going back to the walls and putting away books and scrolls, his large desk was almost empty. Under the special lamp, she could see the scars on the old wood that made up the antique desk. She wondered how old it really might be and who had created it so many years ago.

  "No more work, Rahm? Are you done?"

  He sat down and spread out his legs under the desk. "Just done for now." He pushed the ugly bent metal of the controller that was one of the last things left on the desk.

  "Do you know that time can change everything?"

  Margo moved to a more comfortable position in the big chair and found one of the extra pillows to hug. She just waited for him to continue his statements. Finally, she decided to prod him.

  "I don't understand what you mean. How can time change things?"

  As he usually did when he was studying in his mind, he leaned back and looked up at the darkness of the ceiling. "Well, let's talk about the obvious ones. If Kennedy's car cavalcade had moved a little faster, Oswald would not have been ready for his shot. If the Japanese had waited until all the diplomatic paperwork had been delivered on time, then there would have been a warning of all attacks in advance."

  He sighed but didn't move. "If Hitler had been late for a special speech he gave as a young member of NSDAP he probably would not have been elected their leader that led to his eventual leadership of Germany. He was almost late due to wanting to do something with his paintings that he soon gave up on—on all of his attempts at art.

  Had Hannibal rested his men on the trip to Rome with his elephants, as most Generals of his time would have, he would have been mired in a snowstorm and never reached his goal. Storms closed off the passes from Spain after he moved through to the plains around Rome.