Dream of Me (Harmony Falls, Book 1)

by Gaelen Foley

  The twister was powering toward them, and here they stood arguing like an old married couple.

  When she staggered in the ferocious currents, he shot out a hand to steady her. The funnel cloud was whirling closer. Determined to get them both to safety, Harry began pulling her by the arm, heading for the old covered bridge, but she yanked away from him again.

  “Harry, no. That bridge is from the 1800s.”

  “Then it’s probably withstood lots of these things before.”

  “But the river already is beneath it. We’ll get washed away in the current if we take shelter under there.”

  Harry threw up his hands, losing patience. “Then what the hell do we do?”

  Suddenly, they were out of time.

  It was like a freight train thundering directly at them. A deafening roar filled the air, and the sky went black.

  “The groundhog,” Bea said with a sudden gasp.

  “What?”

  “The drainage ditch! Follow me.” She ran.

  He hesitated.

  “Trust me, Harry. This time, I’m savin’ your life. Now, come on!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him after her.

  They sprinted side by side toward what appeared to be an irrigation ditch dug into the field several yards behind her farm stand. With the storm on their heels, they reached the edge of the shallow gully overgrown with tall grasses and flung themselves into it like World War I soldiers diving into the trenches.

  They tumbled down into the muddy depression, and Harry rolled atop her, shielding her from the storm with his body.

  Bea was screaming while he was mentally rattling off Hail Marys. They shivered and shook like riding one of the old-fashioned wooden roller coasters at Kennywood Park, jostled and rattled back and forth, back and forth. They gripped each other for dear life at the bottom of a muddy ditch, awaiting their demise as the tornado brushed past in all its deafening might, roaring like a freight train.

  The horrifying howl of the monster overhead kept him from hearing Bea’s shrieks of terror now. He was glad, biting back a scream himself.

  God, was he really going to die right here and now, at the age of thirty-four, without ever having had the chance to settle down, marry, have kids?

  The oddest scent filled his nostrils, like fresh-cut grass, and he wondered if this was what heaven smelled like.

  The storm shook harder—then all of a sudden, it was gone.

  He opened his eyes again, afraid of what he’d find, and had to squint in the warm yellow daylight that had come out of nowhere. When he cautiously lifted his head from among the knee-high weeds all around them and peeked over the edge of the ditch, he spotted the twister in the distance, continuing on its dark, merry, diabolical way.

  Apparently, they had just tasted the outer edge of it.

  “Are we alive?” Bea mumbled from beneath him.

  Harry was shaking. “Yeah. It passed us.”

  “Holy shit,” she panted.

  The rain had slowed to barely a mist now. Knees knocking, Harry rolled off her to assess whether Bea was okay. “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t think so,” she rasped. “You?”

  “Some stuff might’ve flown and hit my back,” he said, arcing his head around to see what he could see. “Am I bleeding?”

  “Let me check.” Pressing up onto one elbow beside him in the mud, Bea inspected the back of his drenched t-shirt, lifting it to make sure he had no lacerations. “You’re good,” she said in a shaky voice.

  Exhaling, he turned around again to face her with a look of dark disbelief.

  “Well,” he said at length, trying out a smile, “that almost sucked.”

  She laughed abruptly like she was about to cry, and for a second there, he thought she was going to lose it.

  But no. Not tough little Honey-Bea Palmer, with her sting.

  Instead, she reached over and hugged him hard. “Thanks for being here,” she whispered, her voice catching. “If I’d have been here by myself…”

  “It’s okay,” he said softly as he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face against the warm, damp curve of her neck.

  They stayed like that for a long moment. He was a little taken aback by her embrace, but he figured after that, she would’ve hugged anyone who was there. She was windblown and traumatized, and he could feel her trembling. But he savored the feel of her arms around him, knowing he would probably never get the chance to hold her again.

  “Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry for what I said last night,” she blurted out. “I had no right to hurt you like that. That’s why I came out here today, hoping I would catch you. I knew you’d be leaving town.”

  “You told me to leave,” he reminded her in a low tone.

  Her brown eyes were puppy-dog sad and full of regret as she pulled back to capture his gaze. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that.”

  “It’s okay.” He wiped a smudge of dirt off her cheek with his thumb, hesitating. “I’m sorry, too, Bea. I couldn’t leave without seeing you one more time. I don’t want us to part as enemies.”

  “Me neither,” she said with a hard swallow.

  They stared at each other, neither sure where this left them, what to say.

  “At least we’re alive,” Bea offered.

  “Yeah.” Harry scrounged up a guarded smile. “Time to face the music?”

  She nodded, clenching her jaw. They struggled to their feet, both still wobbly-kneed. Harry gave her a hand climbing out of the ditch, then they stood and took a dazed look around.

  Tiny ice balls covered the landscape, the only remaining evidence of the ferocious hail. But a cry of dismay escaped her at the demolished ruins of her fruit stand.

  “Oh no!” She lifted both hands to her mouth.

  Harry winced. Her little white shed was no more. A splintered pile of sticks and boards lay strewn about instead. Her barrels were scattered about the road like acorns from a tree. Her cartons had been swept into the hills, and fruits and veggies littered the road.

  Bea suddenly drew in her breath. “Oh my God, I have to get home. My grandparents! I need to make sure they’re okay. Lance and the boys were supposed to be out in the fields. Oh, God, the horses—my cows, my chickens—the dogs!”

  “Hey. Steady. Don’t freak out. Come on, I’ll drive,” he said. But then it hit him that Ruby was nowhere in sight. He squinted, scanning the landscape. “Uh, where the hell is my car?”

  Bea pushed out a breath. “Um, Harry? I don’t know how to tell you this, but…” She pointed across Clover Highway—and upward.

  He followed the direction of her finger and there, a hundred yards away hung Ruby, resting upside down, high up in the branches of a giant oak tree, perched there like some oversized cardinal.

  Harry’s jaw dropped.

  He took a step forward, clapped his hands to his head in shock, and gaped at the sight. “Ruby!”

  Bea grimaced. “Oh, Harry. I’m so sorry.”

  Speechless, he bent forward, propping his hands on his thighs, and took several deep breaths, trying not to hyperventilate.

  Bea frowned, watching him gingerly. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He managed a nod, but stayed doubled over, probably looking like he might puke. “That’s—ninety thousand dollars in a tree.”

  She grimaced. “You do have insurance?”

  That’s not the point! he nearly yelped. But he refused to yell in front of her after they had just made peace. “Yeah.” His voice sounded odd and tight. “I barely had it four months. Owning a Porsche was always kind of a dream of mine ever since I was a kid.”

  “Let it out, Harry,” she suggested.

  “You sure?”

  “Go for it.”

  So he did, letting fly a string of vicious expletives, and kicking an empty, half-crushed crate out of his way. He ran out of swear words just as a police car rolled up to them, chirping its siren.

  Chief Mike Walker drifted to a stop. “You guys all right?”
he hollered, leaning an elbow out of the car.

  “Here comes the cavalry.” Bea went running over and gave him a quick hug through the open window, to Harry’s surprise. He had met the top cop of Harmony Falls, but hadn’t realized Mike and Bea were that tight. “We’re okay,” she told him. “This is totally unbelievable. Have you heard anything from my grandparents?”

  “No, but it looks like you got the worst of the damage out here,” Mike replied as he took a good look around the area. “Sorry about your fruit stand,” he added, wincing at the smashed pile of wood. “Direct hit.”

  She waved it off. “It can be rebuilt. Any injuries?”

  “No reports of anything serious yet. Downtown’s a little beat up. We took on a lot of water, and some homes were damaged. Riley.” Mike nodded a greeting as Harry walked over to them, still in a daze over Ruby’s destruction. “Glad to see Bea wasn’t here alone. Listen, there were another couple of funnel clouds spotted in the county,” Mike said grimly. “I’ve got some officers heading out to look around east of town, out in your farm’s direction. I’m getting some reports—as yet unconfirmed—that there might’ve been some damage out that way.”

  Harry saw her pale, heard the note of panic in her voice as she said, “I’m heading home now. I’d better call—”

  “No service in this valley,” Harry reminded her softly.

  “It’s worse than that,” said Mike. “The twister took out a couple of cell towers, so we’re down to ham radios for the time being.” Then he squinted through his windshield, staring past them. “Ah, damn! The Hooper Bridge is down.”

  Bea and Harry turned around and saw that the old covered bridge had been destroyed.

  The two of them exchanged a grim glance. Good thing they hadn’t followed his bright idea of hiding underneath it.

  Mike shook his head, looking aggrieved. “That’s a damned shame. A hundred and fifty years of local history, wiped out in minutes.” Then he glanced up at Harry. “Guess you won’t be leaving town just yet.”

  “Tell me about it.” He pointed in chagrin to his Porsche up in the tree.

  “Oh, shit, man. That sucks.” Mike sent Harry a commiserating look. “Well, at least you guys are safe. I gotta keep making the rounds.”

  “See ya,” Harry said with a glum look.

  “Good luck. Keep us posted,” Bea added.

  “If you need anything,” Mike said, “Jack’s gonna be organizing folks at the Knickpoint.”

  “Got it.” Bea backed away from the car. “Be safe out there, chief.”

  “You too. I know you want to get home to your folks, but don’t drive too fast. There are downed trees and power lines all over the place and debris in the roads.”

  “We’ll be careful,” she promised.

  The lawman nodded and had started to pull away when Harry remembered something. “Hey, Mike. Do you know if Chloe made it home safe? I saw her out jogging when the storm hit—”

  “What?” Mike’s easygoing demeanor instantly vanished. “Where did you see her?”

  “Outside the Sweetwater Inn.”

  “Thanks,” Mike clipped out. Flicking on his red-and-blue lights, he wheeled the black-and-white around and went roaring off down the highway to go and check up on what Harry gathered was one of his favorite citizens.

  Harry looked at Bea. “What’s he so worried about? Chloe said she lives right around the corner from there.”

  “She does. He said town’s okay—I’m sure she’s fine. Mike’s just very protective of Chloe. Come on, we need to go. I’ll drive.”

  Her rusted old pickup, of course, was unscathed. Harry began rolling barrels out of the road so they could get past. Bea squared her shoulders and ran to her truck, starting up the engine. A moment later, Harry jumped into the passenger seat. She shifted gears and pulled onto the road, squishing plums and strawberries to jam beneath her wheels, and together, they sped off to face whatever came next.

  CHAPTER 11

  Somehow the sight of the dear, old, quaint Hooper Bridge hanging in splintered ruins over the raging river had shaken Bea more than the explosion of her farm stand.

  She gripped the steering wheel, deeply glad that Harry was beside her as they drove in solemn quiet back to Harmony Falls. As awkward as things were between them, this would’ve been so much worse to go through alone.

  Squealing fire engines raced by them. First responders set up emergency flares along the roadside, waving drivers to turn around and return to town.

  Fallen trees with scraggly roots now exposed blocked sections of Clover Highway, so Bea maneuvered her truck around their clawing branches onto the gravelly shoulder, desperate but terrified to learn what had become of her family and her beloved home.

  Block by block, her heart sank deeper as they discovered flooded streets, live wires spewing sparks, overturned park benches, shredded awnings yanked from houses, dangling tree branches cracked like broken bones.

  So much damage in just a few minutes, she thought. It was like Harmony Falls had had its own little apocalypse.

  Sloshing through puddles as deep as the tires, she moseyed carefully, waving in solidarity to familiar faces, to friends and neighbors and customers she’d come to know who’d nervously crept from their homes to take stock of what had just happened.

  Harry remained virtually silent for most of the drive. Bea was glad for it, but not sure what to make of his situation. Without a vehicle, he was stuck with her for now, whether he liked it or not. But for her part, she was damn grateful he’d come along today when he had.

  “Oh no,” she murmured sadly after driving a little farther on. “The Big Scoop.” She pointed to the giant ice cream cone statue outside the Falls Creamery. The storm had toppled it to the ground. “That statue is an icon around here,” she told Harry, nostalgically recalling all those summers as a kid, riding with her sister in the back of Pap’s pickup, imagining what flavor they’d order when they finally got to the ice cream parlor, then having their picture taken next to the giant statue, gleefully hugging the base of its splintery waffle cone.

  Ron Cipriani, the chubby little mustachioed owner of the creamery, was standing outside his establishment talking with some curious onlookers. Folded ice cream hat in his hand, he was scratching his balding head, looking shocked.

  “Everybody can bounce back from this. I’m sure of it,” Bea said with a hard swallow, hopeful. The people of Harmony Falls would pull together to help a struggling neighbor. They always did. Now, with everyone in the same tattered boat, they would forge their way through this and only be that much stronger.

  She had to believe that.

  But the threat of what awaited her at home loomed ever closer, more real as they navigated through the town square. She only planned on passing through, but when she saw Reggie’s ambulance parked outside the Knickpoint, lights flashing, she felt a jolt of worry and decided to stop in, just for a minute, to make sure everyone was okay before continuing on her way home.

  Most likely, Reg and her EMT partner had set up shop to deal with any minor injuries in and around the town square. With Mike and most of his five deputies out assisting people, Bea guessed the police station would be staffed right now by only one cop—most likely, the lovable elderly deputy Officer Cavanaugh, better known to the whole town as Pops.

  So, with the local authorities—such as they were—preoccupied, the Knickpoint tended to become the place to congregate in times of crisis. Bea saw it was already filling up with locals, who knew to turn to Jack for orders if they were available to help. Others just instinctually gathered around the local war hero to shore up their own shaken courage.

  Pulling up to the curb, Bea spotted Reg’s fellow EMT standing at the ready, with the back doors of the ambulance open. She didn’t see her wisecracking friend around, though, which probably meant that Reg was inside checking on people in the pub.

  Bea stopped the truck, then glanced at Harry. “I just want to run in for a minute, let them know I’m okay, and
see if there’s any news, since it’s on the way.”

  He nodded. “Sure, whatever you want to do.”

  She hesitated. “In reality, if anyone around here would’ve had the experience to sense a twister coming, it would be Pap, right?” she said, more to reassure herself than Harry. “He’s been there, done that—I’m betting he figured it out before anyone else did. He would’ve gotten everyone into the old storm cellar well before it hit.”

  “I’d believe that. Which means you’re probably the one everyone’s worried about.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Well, I’ll just pop in for a sec to let my friends know I’m all right and get an update on them, then we’ll get to the farm.”

  Harry nodded.

  With her courage bolstered by her faith in her grandfather’s expertise when it came to Mother Nature’s whims, Bea hurried inside, and Harry followed.

  They found the pub as bustling as on any Saturday night, but instead of music from the jukebox, today the loud rumble of Jack’s generator greeted them. She looked around.

  “There’s Jack,” Harry said, pointing to a table where some townsfolk had rolled out a map and were discussing what to do. The marine loomed over them, large and in charge.

  Relief whooshed through her to see the more or less indestructible warrior unscathed. “Would you let him know I’m here? I’ll head that way.” Bea pointed to the pub’s back deck, where she spotted Reggie already hard at work on first responder duty.

  The blonde was easy to pick out of a crowd in her yellow safety vest and powder-blue scrubs. Reg had her hair tied into a messy ponytail and was bandaging up the arm of some bedraggled, bearded man in a flannel shirt and fishing waders.

  Harry’s curious glance followed the direction she indicated.

  “See the paramedic out there treating that guy? She’s one of my best friends,” Bea told him. “I’m going to go see what’s up.”

  Harry nodded. “Come and get me when you’re ready to go.”

  “Will do.” As Bea hurried toward the rain-sodden deck, beyond it, she could see the Onatah River swollen into a white, foaming frenzy. It was overflowing its banks, sloshing up the grassy lawn behind the pub, almost to the volleyball court.