Thunderstruck
Page 9
“What do you mean, the truth?”
With slow deliberation, she pushed from the table. She nodded to her driver, who’d been standing patiently, hands folded at the doorway to the porch. Hesitating a moment, she lifted her hands—one still clutching the cane—high in the air.
Nash ducked the cane-sweeping arc.
A bright flash of light illuminated the sky, followed by a crack of thunder that Somer swore rattled her back teeth. The winds picked up outside. One by one the French doors along the back of the house slammed open, pushed by a rush of wind.
Over the wind and thunder, Auntie leveled a look at Somer. “Storm’s a comin’.”
Auntie nodded, and for the first time a smile appeared on her face. “Truth be victorious,” she called over her shoulder as she took her young driver’s arm. “Always is. Always is.” In her wake, the fierce wind whipped the drapes in the living room as though they were made of chiffon.
Somer looked back at Nash, who was placidly reading through the journal as though unaware of the tempest storm raging around them.
Exasperated that their guests were leaving and the whole world, it seemed, had suddenly turned upside down, she ran after the pair, watching on the front patio as they glided down the drive in the classic gunboat car. Shoving her shoulder against the front door, she managed to shut and lock it before hurrying back to the rear of the house. With no help from Nash, she struggled to close the French doors and then leaned against them, exhausted. She held her hand to her head. “What can we do?”
Nash carefully closed the journal and looked at her. “She’s jealous of you, Somer.”
“Me?” she replied. “I believe in her. I want to help her.”
He nodded. “I know,” he said. “Listen, everything in the journal thus far, we’ve experienced to some degree. In whole, or in part—”
“Everything?” Somer’s head throbbed with confusion.
He stopped and shook his head. “Not everything,” his voice softened. “You’re the one who pointed out the similarities.”
Somer shook her head. “I’m not following.”
“She feels betrayed. Like Nash has betrayed her.”
In a strange way, it was possible that Lucille had mistaken a man who looked similar to her lover—who carried his name and lived in this house—as her lost love. And true, he’d been sleeping with another. “But we don’t know what happened to him. We can only assume he followed his father’s wishes and went off to fight for the Confederacy and never made it home,” Somer answered.
“We have no idea what his father might have told this poor woman, Somer.”
Somer smiled. “Be careful, Nash, it sounds like you maybe believe in this woman.”
A sharp crack of lightning split the afternoon sky. Rain pelted the windowpanes.
He grabbed the journal and held out his hand. “I have an idea. Do you trust me?”
Somer eyed the wicked lightning outside. “Is it dangerous?”
He tipped his head. “Potentially.”
“Are we going to die?” she kidded…almost.
He looked from her to the garden and back again. “Not if we’re lucky.”
Somer chuckled. “I like this plan.” It was, in all fairness, the only one they had.
***
Nash grabbed the French doors before they were ripped off their hinges. He hooked his arm around her shoulder, sheltering her as best he could from the driving rain. He headed through the maze to the marble fountain.
The storm had closed in around the house, enveloping it in a fist-like grip. Jagged bolts of lightning speared one of the oak trees, and a fiery explosion followed, splitting a large branch, which bounced to the ground in a heap.
Nash placed the journal on the fountain’s ledge, anchoring it open to the last entry. Hoping Somer would go along with his game plan, he pulled her into his arms, noticing a flicker of confusion pass through her eyes just before he took her mouth in a possessive kiss.
Her fingers grabbed his shirt, fisting the fabric, matching the desperation, the uncertainty roiling inside him. He didn’t know why fate had caused their paths to cross, but he wasn’t about to let her slip through his fingers. She was the woman he wanted—he needed—at his side…if she’d have him.
The fierce wind whipped around them Somer’s hair tangled, twisting around her face. The small stone he’d used to anchor the pages rolled free, and the pages fluttered, then flipped madly as though possessed by an invisible hand searching frantically for answers.
“What are we doing?” Somer asked, searching his eyes.
He wasn’t entirely sure. Another bolt of lightning zig-zagged across the sky. Nash pulled Somer against him, wrapping his arms around her. He leaned back and looked at her. “I don’t know how you’re going to take this, Doc,” he shouted above the storm. “But you need to hear that I’ve fallen in love with you.” He blinked away the rain dripping from his eyelashes. “I know it sounds crazy. But it’s true. I loved you from the first moment I saw you.”
Her eyes widened as she glanced over his shoulder.
He turned to follow her gaze, just as a branch hurled through the air and clipped him on the side of the head. The force dropped him to his knees. He groaned as he reached up to touch his temple and drew blood back on his fingers.
Somer kneeled beside him, struggling to keep her balance in the mighty wind.
“Read the last entry out loud,” Nash said, trying to push to his feet.
She grabbed the journal and found the entry he’d requested. Skimming the page, she looked up, confusion etched on her face. “This passage wasn’t here before,” she yelled over the howling wind.
Nash tugged her down to sit beside him, using the fountain wall as minimal protection. “Just read it.”
Somer blinked and began to read aloud.
“Dearest Lucille,
I know that when I fail to return, you will conclude that I deceived you somehow. That I’d betrayed you—our love. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Be assured that, until the day I die, my heart is yours and will forever be. Look to the East, down that dusty road to Atlanta. I swear I will be there, waiting.”
“Read it all,” Nash insisted.
Somer continued eyeing the sky as though in preparation of Lucille’s wrath.
“He’s waiting, Lucille. Go. Look for yourself.”
Thunder rumbled in the belly of the storm.
“Look.” Somer nudged his arm. She pointed to the widow’s walk atop the main house. There stood a figure of a woman, her hair drawn into a neat coif at the nape of her neck. She leaned on the wrought iron rail, searching the road to the east.
“Look in your heart,” Somer continued, though she no longer tried to compete with the din of the storm.
Nash felt Somers hand slide into his as the woman seemed to look down at them. Then, as though hearing her name, she turned.
He pulled out his bandana kerchief and dabbed his temple as he clamored to his feet with Somer’s help.
“Look, over there.” She pointed to the mud road leading through an alley of old oak trees. Through the torrential rain appeared the image of a young man. He was dressed in what appeared to be a Confederate uniform.
Somer slid her arm around Nash’s waist and he welcomed her support. A blinding flash of light, so close it made the hairs on his flesh stand on end, illuminated the sky. Nash shielded his eyes from the glare. An instant later, both the soldier and the woman had disappeared.
Somer looked up at him, her hair plastered to her skull, fresh tears streaming down her rain-kissed face. “We need to tend to that wound, Mr. Walker.”
He accepted her help, slumping into the first chair he could find. He grimaced when she dabbed at the wound with a fresh cloth. “A couple of aspirin and I’ll be fine,” he said, watching her through one eye. “Ouch.”
“You’ll live,” she said, carefully cleaning the blood from his face.
“I guess we can say the truth was vi
ctorious.” He caught her quick glance.
“You’re referring to the mysterious entry?”
He stopped her first aid and pulled her gently to his lap. “Yes, I mean the entry.” He held her chin and softly kissed her.
“About what you said out there. Was that truth? Or just part of the plan?”
“I needed to get Lucille’s attention,” he answered. “But I meant every word, Somer. Do you remember what you read?”
Somer glanced in her jacket. “I put the journal right here. It’s gone.”
Nash stopped her from searching her other pockets. “It said, all she had to do is look in her heart and she’d find him.”
She gave him a puzzled look. “How’d you remember that? I could barely hear myself reading above the wind.”
“I wrote it.” He shrugged.
“You did not.” She stood and rifled through her pockets again.
“I did.” Nash nodded. “Not my best penmanship, but I was in a hurry.”
“But all that…Lucille thought it was her Nash.” She pushed the heel of her hand to her forehead. “You don’t realize what you’ve done.”
“On the contrary, Doc. I simply used the exact logic of what a woman would think if I hadn’t contacted her after a first date.”
“B-but,” she sputtered. “I saw her…and him. How could you know?”
Nash grinned. “You didn’t listen to Auntie Iris, did you?” He stood, framing her face, brushed a droplet of rain from her soft cheek. “The truth is victorious.” He searched her eyes, waiting for her to make the connection.
“All she had to do was stop looking everywhere else and look in her heart. That’s where the truth was—in her love for him.”
He lifted his shoulder. “She just needed to accept in her head what her heart already knew.”
Somer pushed to her toes and kissed him. “And I’m the one with the PhD.”
He gave her a wicked grin. “I know. Incredible. Isn’t it?” He wrapped his arm around her as they stepped into the garden. He glanced up at the clearing sky and a brilliant sun they hadn’t seen in days.
“You do realize that I’m crazy about you, right?” she said, her arm tight around his waist.
He searched the sky, relieved that it was just the two of them now in the big, old house. “Yeah, I pretty much figured that.”
Somer slapped his shoulder playfully. “You know, there are still a great many things you’ve yet to learn.”
He waggled his brows. “I’m all yours, Doc.”
“Regarding parapsychology,” she replied drily.
“Oh.” He nodded, wincing as he touched his temple.
“And maybe a few other…things.” She tossed him a grin.
“Sign me up,” he said, pulling her into his embrace. He started at the soft spot below her ear, his intent to lick away every drop of rain from her skin.
“Nash?”
“Trying to work here, darlin’,” he said.
“We’ve got company.”
Nash straightened, met her gaze, and followed it over his shoulder to one of the old swings attached to the oak branch. It swayed slowly back and forth, though the wind had long since stilled. From a few yards away, a little boy appeared on the swing. He simply stared at them.
Nash sighed. “I better get used to this, hadn’t I?” He studied the child’s solemn expression, then looked at Somer. “You’re like a ghost magnet.”
“You’ll get used to it.” She pulled his face to hers in a kiss that left him thunderstruck, then took his arm and led him toward the house. “Is he following?”
Nash glanced over his shoulder and met the little boy’s gaze. “We better give Auntie Iris another call.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amanda McIntyre’s storytelling is a natural offshoot of her artistic creativity. A visual writer, living in the rich tapestry of the American heartland, her passion is telling character-driven stories with a penchant (okay, some call it a wicked obsession) for placing ordinary people in extraordinary situations to see how they overcome the obstacles to their HEA.
A bestselling author, her work is published internationally in Print, eBook, and Audio. She writes steamy contemporary and sizzling historical romance and truly believes, no matter what, love will always find a way.
More about Amanda:
WEBSITE: http://www.amandamcintyresbooks.com/
FACEBOOK: https://www.facebook.com/AmandaMcIntyreAuthorFanPage
TWITTER: https://twitter.com/amandamcintyre1
Amanda McIntyre’s NEWSLETTER Storyteller at Heart…Romantic, Riveting, Rebellious. http://madmimi.com/signups/110714/join
Other Books by Amanda McIntyre:
CONTEMPORARY WESTERN ROMANCE:
Worth the Wait (Last Hope Ranch series 2017)
Georgia on My Mind (A Moonshine/Last Hope Ranch crossover 2017)
Wild at Heart (Wild Irish Kindle World. April 2017)
Lost and Found (November 2016)
Thunderstruck (Hell Yeah Kindle World Nov. 2016)
Going Home (Sapphire Falls Kindle World Oct 2016)
All I Want for Christmas (Kinnison Legacy holiday novella)
No Strings Attached, Book I (Last Hope Ranch)
Rugged Hearts, Book I (Kinnison Legacy)
Rustler’s Heart, Book II (Kinnison Legacy
Renegade Hearts, Book III (Kinnison Legacy)
CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE:
Stranger in Paradise
Tides of Autumn
Unfinished Dreams
Wish You Were Here
HISTORICAL:
Historical/Native American:
A Warrior’s Heart (Sept. 2016)
Historical/Victorian:
The Promise (December 2016)
Historical/Time-travel:
Closer To You (formerly Wild & Unruly)
Christmas Angel (formerly Fallen Angel)
Historical Paranormal/Fantasy:
Tirnan ‘Oge
Historical/Erotic Thriller:
The Dark Seduction of Miss Jane
Historical/Erotic Romance:
The Master & the Muses *
The Diary of Cozette *
Tortured *
The Pleasure Garden *
Winter’s Desire *
Dark Pleasures *
*Starred titles available in audio and international languages
CONTEMPORARY ADULT FICTION:
Private Party
Mirror, Mirror
Naughty Bits, Vol III