by Betty Bolte
As Meredith finished dressing, another round of thunder echoed in the distance, chasing her downstairs. Outside, the first drops of rain flashed past the window. Pushing open the door separating the hallway from the kitchen, she paused. Max sat at the dinette table, making her insides quiver at the blue-eyed assessment he aimed in her direction. So be it. She squared her shoulders, strode to the coffeepot, and then snatched a mug.
“You’re here early.” Meredith inhaled the aroma of the dark liquid, gaining strength from its scent alone.
“Much as I hoped I wouldn’t have to do this, I can’t take the chance you’d change your mind yet again.” He tapped his briefcase sitting on the floor. “I’ve moved up the council vote to this afternoon. I won’t give you the option of desecrating your grandmother’s memory and her trust in you.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“I want to, Meredith. With all my heart.” He shook his head, his luxurious brown hair flowing across the top edge of his collar. “There’s no grandfather clause in the legislation. It takes effect immediately upon the vote.”
She caught the challenge in his expression, and her hackles rose. She detested being told what she could and could not do. Could he do that? Or was he bluffing? She didn’t know, but either way, if she burned the place down, nobody could do anything about it. She elected to change the subject rather than argue with him. Not that she meant to destroy it any longer, but he didn’t know that for certain. Let him stew for a little awhile.
“Is Sue coming?” Meredith sipped her coffee, gripping the mug with both hands. The heat warmed her cold fingers.
“Yes, and bringing Jeremy.”
“Nice of you to give her the time off so she could attend.”
“She would have taken the morning either way, so why not.”
Paulette strode in, followed by Grizabella. The cat made a beeline to her bowl. Paulette grabbed a mug and poured coffee in it, adding cream and sugar until Meredith felt ill thinking about drinking the concoction. A breeze flowed through the open window, billowing the light curtains out like the hallmark photo of Marilyn Monroe’s white dress.
“I think the weatherman was wrong.” Paulette claimed a seat at the table. “That cold wind is announcing the severe stuff is coming faster than they said.”
“It’ll be fine.” Meredith heard a timer ticking. “What’s Meg got in the oven?”
“Pecan coffee cake.” Max rubbed his stomach and licked his lips with exaggerated smacking. “Can’t wait until I hear the timer ding.”
Despite herself, Meredith chuckled at his antics. “You always think of food, don’t you?”
“Smells good.” Paulette inhaled deeply. “Now that I’m eating for two, I guess we can grant you one meager piece, Max.”
“We’ll see.” Max grinned at her.
Meredith sucked in a breath and almost choked when she smelled honeysuckle instead of the cinnamon and nutmeg she expected. One hand went to the pendant, rubbing it between her fingers. She coughed to clear her lungs, and then tentatively sniffed. Cinnamon, brown sugar, pecans. Hmmm. Much better. The timer dinged, and she rose to remove the pan from the oven.
“Where is Meg?” Meredith asked, setting the round pan on top of the stove.
“She said she had a pork roast to start in a slow oven at her place.” Max stood and walked over to retrieve a stack of plates from the cupboard and then waited beside Meredith as she sliced the cake. His actions smacked of familiarity with the house. With her. Her hand shook as she inserted the knife tip into the crunch topping and pushed down. She shouldn’t be reacting to his mere presence. He was her lawyer, not her lover. Which only made her think of their last kiss, the one she’d ended before she wanted to further their foreplay. Before he became more than her lawyer and risked her own heart.
“Here, now go sit down.” She scooped a slice of cake onto a plate and waved the knife at him to urge him to return to his seat. Away from her so she could think clearly.
“Yes’m.”
“What about me?” Paulette asked. “Do I have to come there or can you bring me a piece?”
“Lazy.” Meredith grinned at her as she placed a slice on a plate and then carried it to her. She set it on the table. “Just because you’re with child doesn’t mean you get special treatment. At least not all the time.”
“I can try, can’t I?” Paulette took a bite and then licked the tines of her fork to snare every crumb of the treat.
“Is everything ready for the service?” Max asked between bites.
Meredith joined them at the table. “Yes. The coroner said he wrapped her remains in the blue gown ready for burial. And I”—she fingered the pendant again and glanced at Max, then Paulette—“I chose to wear her jewelry. Do you think that’s weird?”
“Not at all.” Paulette gazed at her a long moment, tears glistening in the corners of her eyes. “I think she’d like that.”
Meredith laid a hand on Paulette’s arm and briefly squeezed. “Me too.”
A couple of hours later, the first cars pulled into the driveway. Sean took it upon himself to direct traffic, assuring everyone had a place to park that didn’t block the driveway. The rain had abated, the grass sparkling with traces of the latest shower. But dark clouds built in the distance, threatening charcoal mounds soaring high into the heavens. Typical rainy weather for a funeral. Some cultures believed rain on your wedding equaled good fortune. What did it mean when rain fell on a funeral? Peace?
Sean had erected a tent over the burial site the day before, anticipating the potential need to shelter the mourners now gathering at the grave. No tombstone sat at the head of the grave and wouldn’t until one could be made. Meanwhile, Sean’s creativity shown through the placement of a wooden cross painted white with Grace’s full name—Grace Abigail O’Connell—stenciled in black on the horizontal beam. Max assisted in herding everyone through the open gate and under the dark-green canvas. The pastor waited beside the cross, Bible open in his hands, until the small crowd stilled and fell silent.
As he intoned the opening prayer, Meredith stood with her hands folded. She hoped Grace would be pleased with the gathering. In addition to herself, the mourners included her family—Paulette, Dina, Brock—and friends—Max, Meg, Sean, Sue, Jeremy—as well as two renowned local historians and a contingent from the sheriff’s office. Even the bartender, Sam, had made an appearance, bringing a carload of presumed relatives. In fact, most of the folks gathered were connected to Max, not to her except by extension through him. Yet comfort surged through her as a result of those who cared enough to take time from their busy schedules to attend the burial of her very distant relative. She hoped Grandpa Joe appreciated the resulting send-off his sister received.
Sunlight dappled the ground under the surrounding magnolia tree branches, tiny spotlights layered on the waxy leaves, spent white blossoms littering the wet grass. Thunder rumbled in the distance, accompanied by a burst of cool wind that flipped the Bible’s pages.
The sound of the paper in the breeze reminded Meredith of the photo album and the idea that Grace had turned those pages to ensure her message came through loud and clear. Which reminded Meredith of Grace’s image in the mirror mere hours before, linking with her silently though effectively through the medium of the reflection. Disappearing without a trace when Meredith blinked before turning to try to look at her directly.
“Amen.” The pastor nodded, and several men moved to lower the coffin into its final resting spot. With each slip of the ropes between their capable hands, contentment spread through Meredith, as though joy found purchase within. Or perhaps Grace had returned home to where her own heart beckoned. Home to be with her favorite sibling. Once the casket settled on the floor of the grave, the men hefted spades and began covering the coffin with dirt. The sound of the clods striking the wooden lid sent shivers through Meredith, but they were not cold or scary. The shivers seemed to be echoes of laughter and love from somewhere inside. Tremors like she’d never e
xperienced before.
The pastor intoned a final benediction while the men continued to shovel dirt into the hole. When the prayer ended, the gathering paused for the space of a breath and then began making their way to the house for lunch and socializing. Meredith hung back, watching the hole fill and experiencing Grace’s satisfaction spread through her. Max sauntered over to where she lingered under the trees.
“May she rest in peace.” He studied her, appearing to search for something in her expression.
She nodded. “Hungry?”
“You bet. Shoveling is hard work.” He patted his stomach. “After all, I only had a piece of cake for breakfast.”
She cast a last glance at the fresh mound of dirt blanketing Grace’s grave site. The white cross seemed to glow among the deep shade beneath the tall trees. The rain clouds roiled above like smoke in a jar. A clap of thunder made her jump. Lightning forked across the sky. “We should go in anyway.”
“Right, if you can hear thunder, you can be struck by lightning. Given that we can see the lightning, the risk is very real.” He took her arm and escorted her back through the metal gate, and then across the gravel driveway.
As she passed through the kitchen door he held open, she paused and gazed up at him. “I hope the worst of it waits until after everyone has safely arrived home. Our shelter would be mighty crowded if all these folks had to cram inside it.”
“Not to worry. The radar isn’t showing any purple yet, so we’re okay. Let’s have some sandwiches, shall we?”
She nodded and hurried into the kitchen, where Paulette immediately accosted her carrying a potted geranium.
“Where shall we put this?” She lifted the ceramic pot with geometric designs decorating the sides. “It’s in memory of Grace from Sue. She wanted you to have something living to remind you of your aunt’s life. Isn’t it a pretty shade of red?” Paulette twirled the plant, examining it from all sides.
“Put it wherever you want. I’m getting something to eat.” Meredith moved away from Paulette, catching up to Max at the makeshift buffet table set up in the foyer.
The double front doors stood open, creating a picturesque backdrop to the array of delicious foods. Grizabella had been relegated to Meredith’s room until the luncheon ended so Meredith wouldn’t worry about her venturing outside, checking out the food, or tripping someone. Before very long, the crowd thinned. The dark storm clouds continued to gather overhead, lightning fracturing the sky. Finally, the last of the mourners paid their condolences, ate their last mouthful, and drove away. The thunder and lightning drew nearer, carried by the increasing wind whipping through the trees and blowing the tall grass so it danced under the onslaught.
“Quite a view from here.” Max had sneaked up on her so quietly she hadn’t heard even a floorboard creak.
“I’ve always loved being on the porch, drawn to it for reasons I only now understand.” She gazed out over the vista, the rolling hills boasting copses of trees, the lake churning in the wind, the road winding its way across the valley and disappearing to the left. The sky turned from dark gray to silver with a green cast, as though growing ill from its own increasing ferocity. She turned away from the storm to contemplate Max, drawn to him, too, for very different reasons. Reasons she must deny herself in order to protect them both. He’s my lawyer, not my lover. “I guess it’s time for you to head to town for the vote, right?”
His expression turned grim. “Why are you pushing me away?”
Before she could formulate a response, the tornado siren blared at the same time the weather radio sounded. Together, they gaped out over the valley in time to see the funnel cloud come into view and take aim on Twin Oaks.
“Oh no!” Meredith cried. “Where’s everybody? We need to take cover.”
“Get down to the basement,” Max said. “I’ll get the cat. Go!”
“I’ll find everyone.” She closed the double doors and then raced down the hall, searching for her family.
They found her, emerging into the hallway from side rooms as she ran toward the kitchen. Brock’s stalwart expression calmed Meredith’s rising panic. Her mother and sister exhibited concern but not fear.
“The tornado is coming this way. Go to the cellar. Now!” She shooed them before her, aware of Max’s heavy footsteps above as he hurried to retrieve her cat.
His offer to find Grizabella and keep her safe warmed Meredith’s heart. His longer stride made it faster for him to retrieve the cat than for Meredith. As long as he hurried, they’d all make it to the safety of the storm shelter.
Moments later Meredith sat with the rest of her family huddled in the basement, the radio blaring the weatherman’s blow-by-blow coverage of the tornado’s track. Max slammed the door at the top of the steps before pounding down to join them where they perched on the benches lining the walls. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he let Griz jump out of his arms while he took a seat next to Meredith.
Outside, the wind battered the antebellum building, rattling the windows. Rain beat against the sides. Inside, Meredith glanced from tense face to worried expression. Predicting the actions of a tornado seemed difficult at best. Even professional storm chasers died in their efforts when the tornado shifted direction so fast they couldn’t escape its path.
How long would they be stuck here? Trapped in a tiny wine cellar with four other adults and one grumpy cat stalking about the room. Brock paced, nearly stepping on Meredith’s feet as he maneuvered his bulk between the two benches and their occupants. Dina perched on the edge of the bench facing Meredith and Max, staring at the door, their escape route once the all clear sounded. Paulette plopped cross-legged on an oversize pillow on the floor, one she dragged downstairs with her.
Two weeks ago Meredith would have never thought to be in the same room with any of them, and now they’d been forced to squeeze among the wine bottles and emergency supplies and wait. In the very place she’d hoped they’d never need to use. She stared at the array of wine bottles, pondering whether to suggest opening one to calm her nerves.
“Do you hear that?” Max stood and walked to the base of the steps, staring toward the door.
“What?” Meredith rested her hands on her knees, prepared to join him should the need arise.
“It sounds like a train coming.” Paulette wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked. “Oh God.”
Max sat back down beside Meredith and put an arm around her shoulders. “The tornado is here.”
__________
The door bumped against the jamb as the winds surged and roared around the house. Max tightened his hold on Meredith, unwilling to chance her safety. When he’d finally located the cat hunkered under the bed, he’d dragged it protesting from its hidey-hole and hurried to the basement. On the way past the front windows he’d seen the tornado, debris aloft within the whirling winds, heading straight for Twin Oaks. Over the last several years, the strength and frequency of tornadoes in the area had both increased. This old property had seen its fair share of them passing over, but now it faced certain destruction. The question was how much would be damaged?
He glanced at Meredith. She’d wanted to bring the place down, and he’d fought her. Was Mother Nature taking her turn? Was it Twin Oaks’ destiny to be flattened and left as only a memory for those who loved it? He swallowed his fear. He must remain stoic and supportive despite the impending violence outside the stone-and-wood structure.
“What do we do if the tornado hits the house?” Dina clenched her hands together in her lap, knuckles pale.
“That depends on what the winds do,” Max said. “I’ve seen houses shifted off their foundations or blown away with the storm.”
Meredith trembled in his embrace. She hadn’t said anything in several minutes. Her fear created a vibration within her so violent it reminded him of a violinist’s tremolo.
“What if the house collapses on top of us?” Paulette hugged her knees tighter.
“The sheriff’s office has a list of
the tornado shelters,” Max said. “They’ll know to hunt for us in here.”
Meredith searched his face. “I’m glad you’re here.”
His heart swelled at her words. This woman touched his soul with those eyes. “Me too.”
Brock stopped his pacing and settled on the bench beside Dina. He covered her hands with one of his. Some of the tension in his wife’s posture eased.
Max hoped the twister avoided the house, but nobody could predict its exact path. Some studies suggested they followed the terrain to an extent, but how much? They didn’t always stay in flat or shallow areas. Even Sand Mountain in northern Alabama had been struck, trees toppled, leaving jagged shards of trunk jutting against the sky.
Meredith tensed beneath his arm.