The sound of someone climbing the ladder behind me attracted my attention, but I wasn’t concerned. The ladder could only be accessed from inside the motel, which meant that the climber had to be one of my companions. Sure enough, it was.
“I was wondering where you went,” Michael said as he clambered up onto the roof.
I glanced back over my shoulder and watched him pick his way cautiously across the slanted tiles towards toward me. “Yeah, I didn’t feel like sleeping in today.”
He sat down beside me, then jerked in surprise when he suddenly discovered that the roof was wet. I hid a smile behind my hand and struggled not to laugh.
“Ah, damn – these jeans were clean.” He shot me a mock glare, but I could see in his eyes that there was no real anger behind it. “You could have warned me.”
“Oh, it’s just a little water. They’re still technically clean.”
He smiled at my joke, even if it wasn’t really a very good one. My gaze lingered on him, studying the contours of his profile in light of dawn. I’d heard that sunrise was referred to as the photographer’s golden hour, and I could see why. The gentle light softened the hard angles of his face and made him look almost angelic. Emotion surged up within my chest, an overwhelming wave of affection towards the man that had worked so hard to save both my life, and my humanity.
“Michael,” I whispered his name and reached over to take his hand.
His gaze shifted to me, a faint smile on his lips and a quizzical look in his eyes. “Yes?”
Ah, he was such a good man. Such a sweet, kind, wonderful man. What on earth had I done to deserve someone like him? I snuggled against him and reached up to trail my fingers along his jaw. For once, there was no stubble there; he must have shaved just before he came looking for me. I found myself just the tiniest bit disappointed. I had grown fond of him with a touch of scruff. I’d grown fond of him in a lot of ways, really.
He watched me with those dark eyes of his, as if he was trying to figure out what I was about. I smiled cryptically up at him, and his brow furrowed. “Are you feeling okay, Sandy?”
I couldn’t help but giggle. I was feeling a little giddy, actually. A little girlish. A little silly. I hadn’t felt that way about someone in a very long time.
“I feel a bit peculiar, actually,” I said, then quickly finished my sentence before he started worrying about me. “Like maybe I might be in love. I think I am, actually. I think I’m in love with you, Michael Chan. I’m not sure if I should offer you congratulations or condolences.”
He stared back at me while my words sank in, so many different emotions flickering across his face that I couldn’t keep track of them all. Finally, just when I was about to start getting concerned, the tiniest, sweetest little smile crept across his face, and he hugged me tight.
“Congratulations, definitely.” His voice was even huskier than usual and hardly more than a whisper. One gentle hand caressed my jawline, and then he planted a tender kiss on my lips. It lingered for just a moment before he drew back to speak again. “I love you, too. And… thank you.”
“Eh? For what?” This time he had me confused.
“Well.” Suddenly, he seemed very interested in looking anywhere but at me. “When I told you how I felt last week, and you didn’t say it back… I was worried. I thought perhaps I’d misunderstood your intentions, and that I was the only one who felt like that. I thought that maybe you didn’t…”
He trailed off, and my heart just about broke looking up at him. In a sudden flash of overwhelming emotion, I threw my arms around his broad shoulders and hugged him as tight as I could.
“Oh, no.” I squeezed his firm body with every ounce of my strength. “No, no, no. I just needed time. You know how I am.”
He laughed and squeezed me back; the sound of his laughter made me feel a surge of happiness that I hadn’t experienced since before Skylar’s illness. With it, came a feeling of hope. With Michael at my side, it felt like somehow everything had to work out in the end.
***
After we finished our sappy moment, Michael volunteered to help with my project while the weather was still fine. I was glad for the assistance, not just because that it would get the work done faster, but also because it gave me an excuse to spend time with him. That, and he had twice my physical strength, which was handy in construction projects. A girl had to be practical in our day and age.
With his help, we managed to get a railing up around half of the south-eastern side of the roof before the weather started to close in again. I barely heard the distant rumble of thunder over the sound of my own hammering, but Michael did.
“Storm’s coming back,” he informed me as I wriggled out from beneath the construction we were erecting. He helped me to my feet, and together we watched the clouds gathering in the distance.
“Looks like a bad one,” I said. He nodded his agreement. A strong gust of wind blew, almost knocking me off my feet. All of a sudden, I was glad that I’d put a few extra nails into the new railing.
“We should get everything that’s not nailed down inside,” Michael suggested.
“Yeah, and let’s do it fast,” I agreed immediately. After ten years on my own, I’d learned to read the weather like a book, and this one had the smell of trouble all over it. It was late summer heading into autumn; while we often got storms at that time of year, this one felt different.
We both hurried to gather up our tools and the left-over wood, and raced back down the ladder to the relative safety of ground level.
There, we found the doctor had anticipated our next step and was in the process of covering up our little garden with a frame I’d made for just that purpose. We tossed our tools into the safety of one of the downstairs storage rooms, and then ran over to help him. We had the garden battened down and protected by the time the first of the rain started to splatter down around us. Thunder rumbled ominously, getting closer with each passing moment.
Michael froze and looked over his shoulder towards the lobby. “Wait, what was that noise?”
“What noise?” I followed his gaze, but didn’t see anything.
“I could have sworn I heard engines,” he mumbled, half to himself. He headed off towards the front door to check, so I followed him. The wind caught the door as soon as he opened it, forcing him to put his weight behind it to get it to open all the way.
I shoved my hair back out of my face as the wind tried to blind me with it, and peered off into the distance. “I still don’t hear anything.”
A blur of tabby fur bounded past us as Tigger took the opportunity to escape from the incoming storm. She danced between our feet, and then vanished into the depths of the motel.
“I’m sure I heard something.” Michael frowned, leaning heavily against the door to keep it open.
“I really don’t—” Then I paused and tilted my head, straining to listen. “No, wait, you’re right – I hear it too. That sounds like farm bikes.”
Sure enough, it was. A pair of figures on little motorcycles skidded around the corner a heartbeat later, struggling to keep their balance against the surging winds. I waved to them and beckoned them towards us as soon as I recognised the riders as friends: Anahera and Hemi, members of the Maori group that lived not far away. They came to a stop a half-dozen meters from the entrance. I hurried out of the safety of the building to help Anahera with her bike.
The leader of the Maori tribe was bundled against the weather in a heavy anorak with the hood pulled up over her head, but the wind was so strong it tugged her glossy black curls in every direction. I fell in beside her and helped her wheel her bike into the safety of our lobby, with her son close behind us. Once we were all safely inside, Michael eased the door closed and bolted it shut behind us.
“We may have underestimated the weather,” Anahera said, sounding out of breath as we rolled her bike over to a corner and leaned it against the wall. Once it was safely stowed, she leaned back and heaved a sigh, plucking a few long strands
of hair out of her eyes.
“No kidding,” I answered dryly. Like a good little hostess, I offered her a hand to help her get out of her coat, which she accepted.
“I hope you don’t mind that we arrived unannounced.” She shot an apologetic glance towards me. “We hoped to consult with your doctor on something, and if we waited then it would only get worse.”
“The doctor?” I frowned at her, feeling a stab of concern. Although we had only met once before, I considered Anahera and her son to be our friends. She’d shown herself to be a good, loyal person and had helped me at my lowest point; I felt a sense of gratitude toward her that I wasn’t sure I could ever repay. “Of course, Anahera. You’re always welcome here. What’s wrong?”
“Ah, my boy has gone and gotten himself hurt.” Anahera sighed and shot a look at her son, drawing my attention to the young man; for the first time, I noticed he was moving strangely, favouring his left side.
“Aw, mum! It’s not like I did it on purpose,” Hemi protested, but his mother wasn’t having any of it. She stomped over to him and yanked up the hem of his shirt to show us the blood-soaked bandages beneath.
“Ouch.” Michael grimaced at the sight of the blood. “What did you do, lad?”
“Someone took a pot-shot at me from the bush while I was out possum hunting. Tane and Iorangi chased him off, but we didn’t get a good look at the bastard.” He flicked a sheepish-looking glance at his mother. “Sorry, Mum.”
“It’s fine, dear. I understand.” Anahera patted his arm, then turned and looked at the two of us. “I suspect it was an air rifle rather than the real thing, but it got him at a bad angle. We don’t have the tools to get the pellet out without doing more harm than good.”
“I’ll go find the doctor,” Michael said, then shot a glance at me to make sure I was okay with being left alone. I nodded and gave him a reassuring smile; he smiled back and hurried off, leaving me to tend to our guests.
“Let’s get you somewhere comfortable.” I beckoned them both to follow me and led them off toward the room next to the kitchen, which we’d converted into our communal living room. The rain pelted down on the courtyard as we passed, and a gust of wind rattled the windows and doors so hard that it made all of us flinch.
We reached the living area safely, despite the weather’s best attempts to fling things at us. Once we were back indoors, I hung Anahera’s coat over the back of a chair and cleared a pile of assorted junk off one of the couches so that Hemi could lie down. He protested weakly as his mother stripped him of his jacket and shirt, but by the time Michael arrived with the doctor in tow, we had his bandages laid bare.
“Hey, Doc,” Hemi greeted him with a lopsided smile.
“’Hey’, indeed. Let’s get these bandages off and have a look at you.” Doctor Cross frowned deeply at the youth and settled down in his chair beside the couch. Michael and I took that as our cue to leave. We filtered back outside, with Anahera trailing behind us.
“You want a cuppa?” I offered, gesturing towards our kitchen.
“After being out in the storm, I certainly wouldn’t say no,” she answered agreeably, running her fingers back through her damp hair. I nodded and led the way to the kitchen, where I set about making tea while Anahera and Michael sat at the table.
“How’s your sister?” Anahera asked me in her usual pleasant way.
I froze for a second, halfway through setting a pot of water on the stove to heat up, then I turned slowly and stared at her. The last time she or any of her tribe had visited us was before the sickness, when Skylar had been heavily pregnant but more or less happy.
Actually, come to think of it, the last time I’d personally seen her was when she was beating the living shit out of the man who had brutally raped me years ago. Needless to say, there was a damn good reason that I was fond of her.
Anahera wasn’t stupid. She knew from the look on my face that something was wrong. Her brow furrowed. When I didn’t answer, she looked at Michael instead. He drew a deep breath and looked down at his hands. There was no nice way to say what had to be said.
“She lost the baby,” he murmured, so quietly that I could barely hear his voice. I didn’t have to, I already knew. Anahera, however, went wide-eyed and her hands flew up to her mouth.
“Oh, no… how?” she whispered, tears gathering in her hypnotically-beautiful dark eyes.
“Skye got sick,” I spoke up at last, to help break the bad news. “Really, really sick. We think that she got listeria poisoning from something she ate.”
“Is she…?”
“She’s alive, thank goodness.” Michael frowned and shook his head. “But the doctor couldn’t save her child.”
“Oh, the poor dear.” Anahera heaved a long sigh and closed her eyes. “She must be devastated. How long ago did it happen?”
“About a week ago.” I sighed as well – and then jumped in surprise when a gust of wind rattled a boarded-up window beside me ominously. No one had it in them to laugh at my jumpiness today, not even me.
“May I speak with her?” Anahera looked from Michael to me, as though seeking permission from us.
“You can try. She hasn’t been very talkative recently, but…” I looked at her thoughtfully. “Perhaps she would respond better to someone who is a mother.”
What I meant but didn’t say, was that my sister might respond better to a mother who had already lost most of her children, and understood the pain of losing a child better than any of us could. I didn’t need to say it though; Anahera seemed to know exactly what I meant.
“I’ll go see her now.” She rose from her seat, just as an almighty bolt of lightning flashed outside. The lights flickered and then went out, leaving us in semi-darkness. I grunted in annoyance and reached over to switch off the stove.
“So much for tea,” I muttered, and then I pointed Anahera in the right direction. “Upstairs, second door on the left. She’ll be in her room, where she always is.”
Anahera nodded and left without another word. I looked at Michael and he looked back at me, then lifted a brow that I could barely see in the dark kitchen.
“You know, this would be a great chance to go spend some quality time together, if we weren’t all so depressed.” He flashed me an impish grin, just in time for his face to be illuminated by another flash of lightning. The humour got a smile from me.
“Well, it is good snuggling weather,” I agreed, shifting the pot of water to a safer spot. The rain was so thunderous that it masked the sound of his footsteps coming up behind me, so when his arms wrapped around me he took me by surprise.
“Let’s go have a snuggle, then,” he suggested, nuzzling the side of my neck. The nuzzle was followed by a nibble, then a kiss, and I was putty in his hands.
“Sure, why not?” I smiled to myself as he kissed his way up and down the curve of my neck. “Snuggles are, um... very good for the soul. I think I could use a healthy dose of snuggles.”
“I think we could all use a healthy dose of snuggles,” Michael answered, then he gave me a smile, took my hand, and led me out of the kitchen.
***
We settled for his bedroom, where we had a bit of privacy but also could keep an eye out for trouble along the upstairs landing. The wind howled around our little fortress, yanking our hair aggressively as we made our way up the stairs and headed for his room. Well, it yanked at mine, since my hair was long; it barely ruffled his.
“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask.” I looked at him as he stripped off his t-shirt and flopped down on his bed. “How on earth do you keep your hair so neatly trimmed without the benefit of a barber? I can barely keep mine brushed.”
“A mirror, a pair of nail scissors and a hell of a lot of patience.” His grin was so playful that I couldn’t figure out if he was telling the truth or joshing with me. Luckily, my curiosity flew right out the window when he stretched out languidly, in just such a way as to make his taut muscles ripple beneath newly-tanned skin. After that, I completely
forgot whatever I was thinking before, enraptured by his teasing.
It never failed to impress me just how quickly he’d learned to push my buttons, considering that he’d never had a girlfriend before. Not that either of us had used the boyfriend-girlfriend words just yet. Between the two of us, we had the emotional maturity of a fourteen year old boy – and that was only if you added us both together and rounded up generously. We’d get there, though. We were learning and growing together every day, and that was what mattered.
He grinned and patted his stomach invitingly. He knew I couldn’t resist, so I didn’t even try. The breath exploded out of him as I leapt on him in a mock tackle, and we both went head over heels in a mass of tickling silliness. A few minutes and a couple of muffled squeals later, we finally remembered that we were supposed to be adults. Michael flopped on his back with an arm tucked under his head, and I snuggled up against his belly to enjoy the warmth of his skin.
Even though he was out of breath from our play, I could hardly hear his panting over the roar of the wind. It was getting stronger by the second. I rolled onto my belly to rest my chin on his firm stomach, and watched the storm rage beyond the open door.
A disembodied branch crashed into the wall beside his door. It wasn’t a big one, but it hit hard enough that the sound of its impact made us both jump.
“Geez, it sounds like it’s turning into a cyclone out there.” Michael frowned, absently rubbing his chin. “Good thing we brought all that junk in.”
“It’s going to take hours to clean up this mess tomorrow.” I sighed heavily, rubbing my cheek against his stomach. “I hope Ryan isn’t out in this.”
“I hope he is,” Michael spat the sentence with a vehemence that startled me. He was a gentle man by nature, and I rarely saw him angry. For him to wish suffering on someone was unexpected. My brows rose, and I lifted my head to regard him quizzically. He didn’t make eye contact with me, but he looked pretty steamed up.
The Survivors (Book 2): Autumn Page 2
