by Elle Rush
Mina Blackburn was an awesome ninja turtle behind her half-shell and purple mask. Samuel French’s beret and black shirt and slacks did give him the air of a Parisienne artist, but it wasn’t far from his everyday look.
Josh Huntington, the owner of Holiday Beach’s biggest gym, wore jungle camouflage and an uncomfortable looking pith helmet. Mac Mackenzie, who arrived at the same time as Josh, looked like Aaron pre-death. “Mr. Bond, I presume?” Aaron said to the house painter in the tuxedo and slicked back hair.
Aaron wandered the room, making sure everyone was fed and watered and having a good time. The sandwich and snack trays were a huge hit with everyone; he was sure Norah’s Nosh would have more business in the future.
He wrapped his arm around Brooke’s waist as he recounted their afternoon at the corn maze to some eager listeners. She turned a brilliant shade of red when he got to the point of her and the goat screaming at each other, but she was laughing too hard to tell him to stop.
Brooke leaned into his arm. “We should probably do the cake in the next fifteen minutes or so. Habibah and Tripp will have to leave soon,” she said to him quietly.
The kitchen was empty, so Aaron took advantage. He pressed Brooke against the counter and kissed her. Brooke was still a little shy, and he didn’t know if they were at the kissing level of public displays of affection yet, but everyone else was still out in the living room. “That’s a birthday kiss. I’m totally allowed to do that.”
“You sure are. I think we should make birthdays a weekly event,” she agreed when she caught her breath. “Unfortunately, you still have a house full of guests.”
“Grab the cake, and let’s get them out of here.”
He tried not to turn red when Brooke led the guests in a round of “Happy Birthday.” She stuck a candle in his slice of chocolate and vanilla marble cake, and he had to let the wax drip while everyone else received their pieces before she let him make a wish and blow it out. His wish was simple: that his relationship with Brooke continue to move forward as well as it had so far.
It was closing in on midnight when the last of his guests finally departed. He gathered the paper plates and disposable bamboo cutlery and saved them for a fire in the backyard at a later date; Brooke took over putting away the food. They rearranged the furniture in the living room, so everything was back in its usual place. They had a cup of coffee to relax after all their work, but he couldn’t come up with any more excuses after that to delay taking her home.
“Do you want to take the long way, down Shakespeare Drive?” he suggested. It had been the best birthday he’d had in ages, and he didn’t want it to end.
“That is nowhere near my house.”
“That’s why it would be the long way.”
She grinned. “Drive slowly.”
Chapter 16
After eight hours, Brooke expected the storm to have blown itself out. If possible, it had exploded into more violence. Instead of rain, now there was lightning and gale force winds. The limbs of the spruces lining the road flapped wildly. The road following the shore of Star Lake was usually a leisurely drive that offered glimpses of moonlight reflecting off still water. Tonight, it looked like an endless, bottomless pool of black. “As much as I enjoy spending time with you, this isn’t the most romantic drive we’ve ever taken, Aaron.”
The truck rocked, and she saw his fingers tighten around the steering wheel until his knuckles were a stark white. “The weather station did not predict this. We need to get off the road.”
It was too little, too late. Lightning struck a fraction of a second before a thunderous boom shook the truck. Sparks flew from a tree on the shoulder. Brooke didn’t scream, but her intake of air was a squeak. Aaron swore and cranked the wheel hard. They swerved, narrowly avoiding the towering spruce falling toward them. Brooke gripped the dashboard with both hands as she braced to hit the ditch, but the truck bounced a couple times, then stayed level as Aaron pulled off the road. They rolled on for a few more seconds until he hit the brakes.
“Where did you turn? Where are we?” she asked, still gasping in shock.
“This is the driveway to Shelley’s Shack.” Aaron laid his hand on her shoulder and turned to look at her. “Are you okay?
Brooke took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled. “A little shaken up, but I’m not hurt. That was some good driving.”
“Thanks, but we won’t be going anywhere for a while.” He gestured behind them.
The tree had not only fallen across the road, but it had also fallen lengthwise down the center of the driveway. The rain and the puddles had put out any obvious flames from the lightning strike, but smoke and steam still sizzled from the scorched branches. There was another flash and simultaneous crack of thunder, which made her jump in her seat again.
“We should get out of the truck.”
“If we’re in the truck, the tires will keep us safe if we’re hit by lightning. Mostly.”
“But we’re at risk for falling trees. I think we should make a run for it.”
“And go where?” she demanded.
“I can force the cabin door open. I’ll fix it and apologize to Joe Piney later. We don’t have a choice. It’s too dangerous to stay out here.”
Brooke set her hat on the seat beside her, knowing it would probably melt if it got wet. She had her jacket, but no umbrella or hood. When they ran, she was going to get drenched, but wet and cold inside was safer than being trapped in a truck during a lightning storm. “I’m ready.”
The sagging roof and missing siding pieces on the exterior indicated nobody had done any repair work on it in years. The cabin did have a covered porch, but it wasn’t much use. The wind drove the rain in almost vertically. Brooke’s pant legs and shoes were soaked. She felt the cold rain run down her legs and pool around her toes. Aaron carefully broke the glass pane closest to the door’s lock, reached through, and opened it from the inside.
They stepped onto a threadbare, rag-braid rug and dripped for a moment while Aaron closed the door. Brooke’s fingers fumbled along the wall until she found a light switch, but the darkness remained. “The power’s out, or shut off,” she reported.
The room was filled with inky shadows. There wasn’t any moonlight to shine through the narrow gaps in the curtains to give the barest illumination. Brooke fished her phone out of her pocket and activated the flashlight. The last time she’d been at Shelley’s Shack, there hadn’t been much to see. Entering through the front door instead of the back only showed the same mess from a different angle.
Three mismatched sofas created a U around the cold fireplace. Two pushed-together kitchen tables filled the other half of the large room. Brooke counted eight chairs around them, haphazardly placed, as if Aaron hadn’t wasted time doing more that setting them back on their feet. A stove, fridge, and short counter lined the wall behind them. There were four doors on the far wall: three looked like they led to bedrooms and the fourth had a toilet beyond the door.
“Do you see the candles on the mantle?” Aaron asked. “I put them back when we cleaned after taking the photos for the files.”
She did see a collection of tealights on the mantle. Brooke toed off her shoes, then walked over to the fireplace on squishy socks. Aaron had thoughtfully placed a barbecue lighter and a pack of matches beside them. Soon the room was bathed in a yellow-orange glow which was reflected from the mirror set above the fireplace.
A loud crack of thunder made them both jump. “Is it ridiculous that I feel a little better being in a building instead of a car?” she asked.
Something crashed outside before Aaron had a chance to answer her. He reopened the door, looked on the porch, then closed the door again. “Not ridiculous at all. Also, the rain is no longer blowing in from the east side of the house.”
“Why not?”
“A pine tree is blocking it. We’re lucky it didn’t take out part of the roof.”
She started shaking again, and it had nothing to do with the chill in the
air. “I hope Jordan is alright.”
“Is she working?”
“No, she should have been home hours ago.”
“Text her and tell her where you are and that it will be a while before you get home. I’ll try to get a fire started so we can dry out.”
Brooke typed a short text, then sighed in relief at her daughter’s prompt response. “All’s good at home. Do you need to text Trevor?”
“He’s at his mom’s. He’s not expecting to hear from me tonight.”
While Aaron made use of the basket of ads and flyers and stack of logs by the fire, Brooke took a candle and checked out the bathroom. The shelves above the toilet were empty except for two folded beach towels. She grabbed one for herself and shook it open. An orange-and-black striped tiger in a blue speedo greeted her. She grabbed the other for Aaron, then returned to the living room.
Flames flickered at the edges of the newspaper. She held her breath when a drop of water fell off the flue and spattered on a corner, putting out that flame, but the rest of the paper caught and was soon blazing. The paper burned quickly, but thankfully the log’s bark glowed orange for a moment before tiny flames caught there too. “This will take the chill out of the air. We got lucky. We should have enough in this pile to get through the night. Anything I brought in from outside wouldn’t dry for a week.”
“I have towels. I feel bad that we’re making ourselves right at home.”
“We don’t have another choice. It’s this or being outside. The Pineys have always been decent people. They wouldn’t want anyone to suffer when there was shelter available.”
Brooke grabbed a couple chairs and set them next to the fire. She hung her jacket and socks over one, then moved it a foot to the left when she saw it was under a leak in the exposed roof. She dug a pot out of a kitchen cupboard and set it on the floor. Soon they were listening to drops hit the metal.
She curled up on the sofa, pulled an afghan off the back, then patted the cushion beside her. “Let’s conserve body heat.”
A flurry of sparks rose when Aaron gave the logs a poke. He waited a moment to make sure the logs were burning well before he joined her. “This is not how I expected my birthday party to end.”
“Me either.”
The fire looked hot, but it wasn’t throwing off enough heat to warm the room. Brooke shivered and drew the afghan to her chin. Aaron shifted closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be warm in here soon.”
“Distract me. Have you ever had a cottage like this?”
“Owned, no. Borrowed, often. We used to take a vacation every summer when Trevor was little. Most of the time we’d get a week at Tara’s family place on Lake Michigan.” He chuckled. “We’d have to bribe Trevor to come out of the water at the end of the day, then check to see if he’d grown gills. How about you?”
“Once. Another military spouse and I rented a place on the Delaware coast while our husbands were away. It was about as nice as this place.” Brooke chuckled, but it wasn’t because her memories were funny. “The owner was a real piece of work. When we arrived, all of a sudden, a bunch of extra expenses popped up. An extra fee to connect the propane to the barbecue, which the other mom knew how to do. A rental charge for the water equipment, but fortunately we’d brought our own.” She laughed again, and this time it was real. “The oven in the kitchen wasn’t working. I called my dad, and he sent me to the hardware store and told me how to change the fuse. I replaced it, no problem. When we checked out, the owner tried to keep our damage deposit because we’d broken the stove.”
“Which meant he knew it was broken when you arrived.”
“Yep. We told him it wasn’t broken, and he threw a fit, but he couldn’t say anything when he turned it on and it worked.”
“Did you report him?”
“It was a private rental, but you can bet I made it my mission to ensure nobody on base ever rented from him again, and his online reviews took a sudden downturn.” She snuggled deeper into Aaron’s side.
“I’m sorry you had such a bad experience.”
“It wasn’t completely horrible. We were on the seashore, and the public beach nearby was amazing. I’d like to rent another place. A nice one, where everybody gets their own bedroom. Someplace with a dock and a deck and a firepit. Ooh, and a hot tub,” she said dreamily.
“Private chef? On-call masseuse?” Aaron teased.
“Is that an option?”
“Sadly, not that I’ve seen.”
Another flash lit the sky so brightly she saw it through the curtains. The thunder that followed shook the panes in their frames. “This storm is not letting up.”
“We’re safe and dry,” Aaron added. “It’s almost romantic. You, me, candles, a roaring fire. All we need is some wine and leftover birthday cake. I’m kicking myself for not packing a cooler.”
“To be fair you didn’t know we’d need supplies for the drive home.” The heat from the fire had reached her feet, so she stretched them on the coffee table and enjoyed the warmth. The rain on the roof had stopped hammering down, then took a breath before starting again; it now fell in a hard but steady rhythm. The sound was almost soothing, especially when she heard it bouncing of the corrugated tin roof of the porch.
“This is ridiculous. I’m falling asleep,” she said, snuggling even closer to Aaron. He was warm and safe and really comfy, like her own personal, life-size teddy bear.
“It’s after midnight, and your adrenaline has been spiking repeatedly for the last hour. You’re crashing. Close your eyes. I’ve got you.”
She knew he meant it. She could feel it. Which was why, after almost being struck by lightning, crushed by a falling tree, and breaking into a cottage, Brooke felt safe enough to fall asleep in his arms.
Chapter 17
Aaron went from dead asleep to wide awake when the hand slapped his face. Then the knuckles on the same hand jammed him in the ear, and the ring on the middle finger caught a lock of his hair.
Before she did any more damage, Aaron caught Brooke’s hand. He gave it a gentle shake. “Brooke, are you awake?”
She mumbled something but didn’t fight him when he put her hand back in her lap. He grabbed her shoulders and sat her straight on the sofa, then nudged her again. “Brooke, it’s morning.”
He wasn’t quite lying. There was faint daylight shining through the broken window in the door. Brooke had fallen asleep almost instantly the night before. He’d stayed awake for another half hour, adding another log to the fire to keep the room warm. He was up every hour after that to do it again and had finally fallen asleep around five. He guessed it was almost seven now.
He added two things to the facts he knew about Brooke: she was a restless sleeper—she’d never stopped moving on the sofa the previous night—and she was not a morning person. That part, he didn’t get. She had to be at work by seven in the morning most days. She should be used to rising with the sun. Which reminded him. “Brooke? Are you working today?”
“No. I’m trying to sleep in,” she mumbled. Then one eye opened and she looked at him groggily. “Aaron?” It closed, then both eyes popped open. “Aaron?”
“Rainstorm. Fallen tree. Cabin,” he reminded her.
They closed again. “Right.” She heaved herself forward till her elbows were planted on her knees. She grunted like it had taken all the effort in the world for her torso to get vertical. “It looks like we made it through the night.” She glanced in the fireplace. The last log had broken into pieces. Not even coals remained in the fallen ash.
“We did. The rain stopped, and the sun’s coming up. I would have let you sleep a little more, but I didn’t know if you were working today,” he said. He was used to terrible hours and long days. He hadn’t thought of what it would be like being a hotel housekeeper, having to start early to have the majority of the cleaning done by noon. It made Brooke’s determination to attend night classes even more impressive.
“No, I’m off today. Which is g
ood, because I don’t know how long it will take us to get home.”
“Do you want to come outside with me and check it out?” Aaron offered. He wanted to know how bad it was. It would be nice if his truck was unscathed, but it wasn’t his primary concern.
“Sure, let’s go.”
The pine laying against the cabin was small, only about twenty feet tall. Most of the limbs were too thin and flexible to cause damage, but one had knocked the screen off a window. They circled the cottage. Aside from a lot of fallen branches, everything looked to be in reasonable shape. It helped that everything had already been put away for the winter.
The front of the property was a different story. In the light of day, the spruce that had nearly hit them last night was even bigger than Aaron had realized. It covered the entire road, blocking traffic in both directions, and filled the narrow driveway. The tip of the tree lay in the back of his truck.
“That was a closer call than I realized,” Brooke said when she saw it. “Is your truck damaged?”
Aaron pushed aside a couple of branches and flinched when he saw the dent in the tailgate from the impact. “Not too badly.”
She peered through the boughs. “We got lucky. If it had fallen the other way, it would have taken out the power lines. We can walk out of here if we have to.”
“A hike before breakfast will stimulate our appetites, right?” he said, trying to make the best of the situation.
“That’s pushing it, Gillespie.”
Brooke dumped the drip-filled pot into the sink and put it away. Then she gathered the towels and afghan and stored them in the truck’s cab, promising to wash and return them. He swept the glass shards from the window he broke, then cleaned the fireplace. They left the cabin inside as clean as they found it.
“Are you sure we won’t get in trouble?”
“It’ll be fine.” In fact, Aaron had no concerns at all that the Pineys would be reasonable when he explained the situation. He would replace the window today and come back later in the week to ensure things were all cleaned up, saving them from having to make a trip from Minneapolis.
