by Anne Conley
Her lips were moving against his mouth, and he succumbed to the ripples of desire shuddering through his body. Her skin on her shoulder was so soft, and he caressed it, feeling her tremble under his touch.
The roaring got louder, more intense, and Grace mumbled something against his mouth. He groaned in response, pulling her soft little body tighter against him, as she pushed him away.
"Tornado, Rafe," she gasped.
His eyes snapped open, and he realized the roaring he'd heard was indeed a tornado. Jumping up, he grabbed her hand and pushed her toward the bathroom.
"Get into the bathtub, Grace. Now!" She ran, as he grabbed the cushion off the futon and followed her.
She was lying in the bathtub, shaking. He lowered himself on top of her, dragging the enormous cushion over both of them. The roaring continued, getting impossibly louder. Rafe could feel Grace trembling beneath him, and his arms went around her body, pulling her close. He brought her head to his chest and held it, clutching her hair. He was consumed with an undeniable need to protect this woman, at all costs. He shielded her with his body from the storm.
An incredible wrenching noise sounded above them, on the other side of the cushion, their only protection, and a weight fell on his back. He didn't move, though. He stayed in position, braced on his elbows and knees, holding Grace, protecting her. God only knew what was happening to their house, outside of this tiny little fortress.
Grace let out a soft squeal and began to shudder uncontrollably, while Rafe made quiet shushing noises into the top of her head, pouring his energy into her.
"Talk to me, Rafe." Her voice was shaky and little more than a pleading whimper. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest.
"What do you want me to talk about?"
"Anything. What kind of name is Rafe?"
He chuckled softly. "It's short for Rafael. Are we really going to talk about this in a bathtub?" He realized she probably needed something to get her mind off the tornado on top of them.
"Yes. We are." Her shaking eased somewhat. "You don't look like a Rafael."
"Yeah, well…"
"Where are you from? Originally?"
The question surprised him. "What do you mean?"
The tornado had passed, evidenced by the lack of shrieking in the air above them. But he could still hear wind and rain.
"What language did you speak that night at the club? To that guy?"
Rafe couldn't tell her. What would she say when she found out it was Aramaic? A dead language? That nobody had spoken in almost two thousand years?
She continued. "Is your family Italian or something?"
"Um, I think we need to get out of here." He raised up, onto his elbows, and looked down at her. His eyes could see in the darkness, and what he saw took his breath away.
She was huddled in the bottom of the tub, still clutching his shoulders, as if unwilling to let go of him. Her blond hair was a mess, flowing all over the bottom of the tub, and her eyes were wide with fear, unseeing in the darkness. He didn't want to leave.
"It's not safe here anymore. We've got to find a shelter."
Her hands tightened on his shoulders, and he could feel the weight of something shift on his back, on top of the cushion. "I've got to get up, Grace. It'll be okay. I'll keep you safe."
He rose up, lifting the cushion and whatever was on top of it. Grace's eyes squinted at the sudden light, although the rain and clouds above them didn't let much light in. Rain? Clouds? Rafe had to look again, before it registered with him that the roof was gone.
"Yup. We definitely need to get out of here." He grabbed her hand and lifted her up to stand next to him. He looked around the bathroom, and saw destruction, knowing that the rest of the house would be the same.
Water was pooled everywhere. The sink was ripped out of the wall, the floor was littered with debris, and a four by four ceiling joist had fallen on top of the bathtub. Without a doubt, if Rafe hadn't used the cushion for shelter, one or both of them could have been injured by the joist. Or dead.
"The house isn't stable, Grace. The hurricane hasn't even arrived, yet. We've got to get to a shelter." Raindrops fell lazily on their heads as he tried to get Grace moving. It had let up a little, but he knew the worst was still to come.
Her eyes scared him. They had a glaze to them that he didn't like. "Are you okay?" Rafe bent over to look at her directly, his face inches away from hers. The wide blue pools were filled with fear and uncertainty, as raindrops fell down her face. He gathered her into his arms and tried to impart a healing sense of safety to her body, crushed against his. "It'll be okay. We just have to get out of here." He felt her nod weakly against his chest, and he dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head. "Come on."
Grabbing her hand, he led her into the living room, which had been demolished by the tornado. Standing Grace against a wall, Rafe quickly ran around the room, gathering supplies. He grabbed a trash bag out of the kitchen, then ducked into her bedroom, then his, and came back with a backpack that he began filling with things from his pile. He pulled the rope out and began tying it around his waist, then hers.
"We're going to need to walk somewhere, and we can't get separated," he explained.
Grace took a deep, shuddering breath and exhaled heavily. "Okay." As if gathering her wits, she continued. "There should be a Red Cross shelter set up in the school, a couple of blocks that way." She pointed with her left hand and then dropped it, as if suddenly too weak to hold it up.
Rafe realized that she must be exhausted. She had already saved a life today and then survived a tornado. He had to take care of her through the rest of this storm. And it was getting dangerous. Quickly. He looked up at the gray sky, to see clouds swirling above them. He shuddered, noting the un-naturalness of seeing the sky while standing in a living room. He muttered a plea to the Boss under his breath.
Shouldering the back pack, then testing the knots on the rope, he grabbed her hand and led her outside.
The wind was fierce, and rain began coming down in sheets. Either the rain was coming too fast for the island's drainage system to keep up, or the storm surge had already breached the nineteen-foot sea wall. It didn't matter. The water in the street was already up to their knees, making the use of her truck impossible. The water would only rise, flooding the truck, possibly carrying it off with them inside. Safer to walk and take their chances with debris.
Debris was the biggest danger. High winds ripped structures apart, and flooding waters carried the pieces. Grace was fighting the knee-deep water rushing around them, as well as the winds, whipping her braid around. He realized that this would be slow going if they both had to struggle against the current. Rafe scooped Grace up into his arms, reveling in her softness against his body.
"I can walk, Rafe," she protested.
"And I can carry you. Save your strength, you'll probably need it." A surge of protectiveness mixed with fear filled Rafe, but he didn't dwell on the emotion. This was something he would have done anyway, as part of his duty. But doing it for Grace made it different somehow. He had a personal stake in her, and it made the emotions so damn strong. He had to keep her safe, and getting to shelter as quickly as possible became his number one priority.
The water was rising, and the current was swift. Rafe's strength was flagging for some reason, so when he felt a sharp pain in his calf, he had to put Grace down. She struggled briefly for balance, then watched him silently, concern filling her face, as he felt under the water until he found what had caused his problem.
A sharp piece of metal impaled his calf. Not sure how his corporeal body would react to being injured, he panicked a little before realizing that wouldn't help the situation at all. He smiled encouragingly to Grace.
"Looks like you'll be walking the rest of the way."
Her voice filled with panic. "What's wrong? What happened?"
"Just a little splinter. I'll be okay, but we need to get out of this." He grabbed her hand, and continued leading
her to shelter. He was bleeding, though he couldn't tell how badly, and the pain was intense. He'd never felt pain before, but this blinding heat that made him nauseated and caused his vision to go black around the edges, had to be what was called pain. Rafe decided he didn't much care for it.
They kept fighting the rapids that had risen to their waist, as they made their way slowly to the shelter. Rafe could see the school at the end of the next block, when his vision started to fade.
"Grace." He led them to the center of the street, where the current wasn't as strong. "I think I've lost a bit of blood."
Her hands rushed to his face, fingertips fluttering over his cheeks. It felt so good. "Rafe, hang on." His weakness was dispelling her fear, apparently. Her instincts were taking over. That was good. It looked like he was going to need them. Pouring that energy into her in the bathtub had been good for her. But apparently, bad for him…
His head felt funny, weightless. And his body felt heavy. "I don't know what's happening to me." His voice sounded strange, far away. Then all he knew was darkness and cold.
Grace was immediately glad that Rafe had the forethought to tie them together. As he passed out, his body sank into the current and he started to float away. She grabbed him in the lifeguard hold and started dragging his body towards the school.
"Stay with me, Rafe. I don't know what kind of ‘splinter’ you have, but we're going to get you to safety. Just hang on." She kept uttering words of encouragement, as she slowly made her way down the block in the steadily rising water, dodging the floating debris.
Something hit her head, scraping across her face painfully, and she realized it was a shingle attached to a piece of wood. Shaking her head to clear it, she kept going. She had to get to the school.
The green haze was back. She didn't know where it had been, hadn't quite missed it, but with Rafe around, she hadn't felt like she'd needed it.
"That's my girl…" The voice inside her head was Rafe's. She wasn't sure if that was her imagination or not, but she knew that whatever it was, it was helping her to help him, and she appreciated it. "Good job, Grace." Reassured by the voice, she continued trudging through the current to the school.
Chapter Twelve
The water had seemed to level out, but Grace knew that she couldn't count on it to stay that way for long. Squinting against the rain pelting her face, she dragged Rafe through the open door. The water had rushed inside, and a man stood on the stairs to her right.
"Injured?" He asked her briskly, motioning to Rafe, who was still unconscious.
"Yes, I believe something is stuck in his leg. I haven't seen it, yet. We've been underwater."
"Well, I'm glad y'all made it. Come on." He helped Grace get Rafe onto the stairs and out of the water. When she saw his leg, she gasped.
"Oh, Rafe…" Tears welled in her eyes at the jagged piece of metal that had turned his calf into hamburger meat.
"We've got a surgeon in a make-shift trauma center upstairs. I don't think he's busy at the moment. Let me get a stretcher and some help. We'll get him taken care of." The man disappeared up the stairs, leaving Grace alone with Rafe.
The first thing Grace did, was rip her sweatshirt off, and pressed the cleanest part of it to his wound, applying as much pressure as she dared. She lowered herself a step, so that she was even with his face. "I don't know if you can hear me, but we're going to get you fixed up, okay?" She wiped a tear from her cheek. "This isn't life-threatening, Rafe. You just have to stay with me, okay?"
His face was ashy, and Grace didn't like it. He'd lost a lot of blood, though exactly how much was hard to tell. They had to get this piece of metal out and stop the bleeding somehow. She looked at him, hard. His brow was wrinkled, as if in confusion, and his mouth was turned down in a frown, causing his features to sharpen. He still looked so…otherworldly, so perfect, even in pain.
"I'm so sorry if it hurts. You should have gotten out of town with the rest, Rafe."
The green haze in her head deepened at her words, and the voice in her head came back. Rafe's voice. "It'll be okay, Grace. You have done everything right." The comfort of her subconscious called to her, and she relaxed into it. Rafe's brow seemed to smooth a little, and Grace caressed it with her fingers, tracing the lines of his face. His nose. His mouth.
"Mmm…so nice…" Rafe's voice in her head brought her up short, but before she could react, voices from the stairs caught her attention.
"Oh, that looks worse than it is. We'll have him bandaged up and metal free in no time." A cheery man wearing scrubs was coming down the stairs, followed by two men with a stretcher. Grace stood on shaking knees, clutching Rafe's limp hand in hers.
"Can I stay with him?" She suddenly felt desperate, and didn't want to lose sight of him.
"Afraid not. You can go see if there are a couple of cots next to each other in the main room, though." He gestured down a hallway. "Get some rest. We'll bring him out shortly." Handing her the back pack that he'd removed from Rafe's shoulders, he strode off to follow the men with the stretcher.
Feeling deflated, Grace turned in the direction the surgeon had gestured and looked for the main room. She finally found a gymnasium with cots in it, but they were all full of men, women, and children, in various stages of despair. Like her, all of these people had probably lost their homes and all of their possessions. Realizing that Rafe was more important than her clothes, Grace found a vacant corner and sunk down in it dropping the backpack next to her.
People were subdued, but there was a desperate energy pulsing through the cavernous room, nonetheless. Everybody here had escaped the floodwaters and winds with only what they could carry, and nobody knew what they would go home to once this was over. Grace looked around to see that most everybody was in their own little world, quietly staring into space, or resting with their eyes closed. She suspected that few were actually sleeping. There were a couple of clusters of people talking in hushed tones, but for the most part, it was quiet.
Rummaging around in the backpack, she found cans of tuna, a couple of tubes of crushed crackers, and some fruit, in addition to a change of clothes in the garbage bag.
Not feeling the least bit modest, Grace immediately changed out of her smelly, soaked jeans, into a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt. Dumping her wet clothes in a pile next to her, she bit into an apple and opened a can of tuna to eat with her fingers. She hadn't realized how hungry she was, but walking four blocks through all that water, carrying Rafe part of the way had really taken it out of her.
She munched on cracker crumbs, staring distractedly into space until she felt a pair of eyes on her. Looking up, she saw a young girl, no older than about five, staring at her apple.
"Do you want one? I think I have an extra." Grace dug in the bag, finding another apple, and held it out to the girl. She looked over her shoulder at an exhausted looking woman, who was watching her with a glazed look in her eyes, before reaching for the piece of fruit.
"Thank you." The little girl spoke softly, as she looked at Grace through lowered lashes.
"I like your manners. You must be a sweet little girl," Grace said.
The little girl puffed up under the praise, and she raised glowing eyes to Grace.
"What's your name?" The tiny voice was difficult to hear over the noise of the big room.
"My name's Grace. What's yours?"
"Abigail."
"Well, Abigail, it's a pleasure to meet you." She held out her hand to the little girl to shake, and Abigail did, a self-important look on her face. Grace patted the floor next to her, and the little girl sat. They finished their snack in silence, and Grace felt the adrenaline of the day recede. Her limbs felt heavy, and her eyelids began to droop.
"Hey, I'm going to lie down and take a little nap. Is that okay?" Grace glanced over to the girl's mother, who was watching her intently. She offered a smile and received a relieved smile in return.
Abigail stood and ran back to her mother without another word, and Grace la
id down, resting her head on the scrunched up backpack for a pillow. She was asleep almost instantly.
She dreamed of Rafe. She knew it was a dream, because she had opened her eyes and everything was green, as if a green filter had been placed over the lights in the room, bathing everything in a green glow.
In the dream, he was holding her tight, as she lay on the cold floor of the gymnasium, his head nuzzled in the back of her neck, his body pressed tightly along the length of hers. She felt warm and secure, and…cherished. Grace felt cherished by Rafe, as if he would do anything in his power to protect her. She squirmed around in his arms, until she was facing him, still pressed against his long, lean body.
"Rafe?" His green eyes penetrated hers, his gaze holding a longing that ripped at her pounding heart. The white-hot heat in her belly took over her sensations.
He smiled at her encouragingly. "Yes, Grace?" His voice was soft, warm, and reminded her of a warm bath, filled with bubbles, tickling her skin. In fact, she wished she was in a warm bubble bath right now: candle light, soft music, no tornado ripping ceilings off. His smile widened, and his pupils dilated. If Grace didn't know any better, she'd think he'd somehow read her mind. Of course, this was a dream, he probably did.
"What does all of this mean?" She wasn't sure what she was asking. If she was talking about the dream, the storm, her feelings, the heat in her belly, the voice, or Rafe in general, with all of his…otherworldliness.
He kissed her forehead, a warm, wet kiss that made her shiver. "It means that you're mine." He closed his eyes and snuggled his head into her shoulder, inhaling deeply, as if trying to smell her insides. His arms tightened around her, and his breathing evened out, as he fell asleep. Grace shivered again, unable to contain her emotions.
