by Betty Bolte
“Hey, where’s Meg?” Meredith sat upright, breaking his contact with her shoulders. “And Sean? Oh no, they must be out there.” She stared up the steps and then looked at him as if he had the answer.
If only he did. Sean, a country boy born and bred, knew how to prepare for threats such as tornadoes and would ensure they sought shelter. Why hadn’t they done so already?
“What will they do?” Paulette shifted to sit cross-legged again, leaning forward with elbows on her knees. “We should help them.”
“We’re not going out there,” Brock said. “That would be suicide.”
The tension in Meredith increased beside him. Her muscles pulled tight, seemingly to the point of snapping, like his piano string. He gazed at her, drew her chin around with a light hand to fix her attention on what he needed to say. “They’ll seek shelter. They’ve been through this before.”
“Unless they’ve been hurt.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “Or worse.”
“Don’t say that.” Paulette’s expression revealed her concern. “They have to be okay.”
Dina laid a hand on Paulette’s shoulder. “Sean is resourceful. They’ve both been through these storms all their lives. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
Paulette overlaid her hand on her mother’s, grasping her fingers. “I hope so.”
“I can’t imagine losing Meg or Sean,” Meredith whispered. “What would we do without their caring assistance?”
“Or cinnamon buns.” Paulette grinned, but worry weighted the corners of her mouth. She huffed a laugh. “Not funny, eh?”
“Let’s not give up on them,” Brock said. “Keep the faith.”
The door at the top of the stairs yanked open, blasting air into the stuffy room. Sean and Meg bolted through the opening, Sean turning and wrestling the door closed behind them. They hesitated for a second on the steps, long enough for Max to realize they were soaked through. He went to the far shelf and grabbed blankets, offering one to Meg and then to Sean. Meg nodded her thanks, but Sean shook off the offer. Max tossed the unwanted blanket back on the shelf.
“Thank goodness you made it here.” Dina rose to hug Meg. “We were worried sick about you both.”
“It’s awful.” Meg sank to the bench Dina had vacated, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. She shook her head, tears threatening. “The gazebo is gone, shattered into pieces and flung into the cemetery like kindling on a fire.”
“Not the gazebo.” Paulette gripped her knees with both hands. “Grandma used to hold tea parties there for me and Meredith when we were little. Remember, Mer?”
Max glanced at Meredith. She nodded, as though in a trance, her thoughts far away. He went back to slide his arm around her shoulders. The storm and her fear both provided the perfect excuse for him to indulge his desire to touch her. From the first time he’d been near this beautiful and intelligent woman, he’d been drawn to her, needing to experience her.
“Hopefully that’s all that is damaged,” Brock said. “From the sound of the wind, it’s not over yet.”
“The eye of the twister hasn’t arrived yet.” Meredith trembled, and he snuggled his arm around her. The roar of the wind increased until the sound hurt his ears.
“The radar shows it’s moving fast.” Sean leaned against the wall. “We should be clear soon. Then we can go inspect the extent of the damage.”
Meredith cleared her throat and pushed to an upright position. Max let his arm drop off her shoulders but maintained contact with her, encircling her waist instead.
“I’d like to say something.” Meredith paused, looking at each person in the room. “We never know when our time may come, and in case we’re about to find out when our times are, I want you all to know that—” Glass breaking upstairs made them all gasp and fall silent for a moment. “Despite what you may think of me, I love you all. Coming here has changed me in ways I’d never expected. And, as this tornado threatens to do what I had foolishly considered, I’ve realized I was wrong.”
Max waited for the other shoe to fall. What did she plan to do? He involuntarily tightened his arm around her until she shot him a questioning look. Forcing his embrace to relax, he winked at her.
“So you’re definitely, positively not going to demolish it?” Paulette asked.
More glass crashed overhead. Everyone stared at the ceiling for a long moment, and then back at each other.
“No, I’ll do what Grandma O’Connell wanted and renovate Twin Oaks.”
Max squeezed her waist. He was overjoyed she’d finally come to her senses and recognized the value of restoring the place and living here. “You won’t regret your decision.”
“As for you, Max…” Meredith turned to peer at him, angling her body within his embrace. “You’ve been a thorn in my side the entire time I’ve been here.”
He stiffened. What? He tightened his lips, resisting jumping to conclusions.
“You broke my door, which you still owe me a repair on. But of course, who knows what else will need fixing?” She smiled. “But we’re even, at least as far as owing each other, since I owe you a dinner, I believe.”
Max brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, his index finger sliding down to brush her cheekbone. She watched him with a new openness in her startling eyes, as though she’d awakened from a nightmare. Perhaps in one sense she had, having realized the value of her inheritance, her heritage, and most of all her family. Max couldn’t help himself. He kissed her.
The touch of her lips to his ignited the ever-present simmer of longing in his heart and soul when near her. “Assuming we all manage to survive, you’re on.”
Meredith smiled at him. “I’d like that.”
“Knock it off, you two.” Brock resumed his pacing. “The wind is letting up.”
Max kissed her again, deeper this time, despite the groans from their audience. “Sounds like a plan.”
__________
The wind continued to roar above their heads. Meredith snuggled against Max’s side, a newly discovered sense of well-being and peace filling her. The people around her were her family, both by blood and by choice. With each crash of glass she’d realized demolition of Twin Oaks would never happen at her hands. This place, so replete with traces of her ancestors, her heritage, even her childhood, provided the continuum between then and now. Her marriage to Willy had been idyllic, and she’d never forget her first true love. Yet he would not want her to stop living, to stop dreaming, and most important, he’d never want her to stop creating.
Renovating the house spoke to her in a way she hadn’t heard in a long time. Too long, in fact. A whisper of possibilities for what she could create, the finishes to apply, the furniture to locate to reflect the beauty and opulence of days gone by.
More glass breaking interrupted her thoughts. She glared at the closed door, willing the storm to abate so she could assess the damage and begin to make her dreams into actions.
“I hope there’s something left when all this is over,” Paulette said.
“There will be.” Meredith stood and stretched. “What’s the radar showing?”
Brock checked his phone display. “Storm track is showing we should be clear in another minute.”
“Must we wait?” Sean tugged at his open collar. “Such a small room for all of us.”
Meg pulled him closer and kissed his cheek. “Not much longer, dear. You’ll survive, I promise.”
Meredith grinned at the elderly couple. “How long have you two been married?”
“Thirty-two years this summer.” Meg took Sean’s hand and covered it with both of hers.
How satisfying to have that much time together. Meredith glanced at Max. What would their future hold? Did they even have one? More important, was she ready to find out?
Griz dashed up the steps. Her meow sounded loud in the small, crowded space.
The wind quieted, and Meredith moved to the bottom of the steps. “I’m going up.”
“Is it safe?” Paulette
asked.
Meredith smiled in reply to the concern in Paulette’s eyes. “Safe enough.”
“Right behind you.” Max followed her up the stairs, and together they opened the door.
“Careful, there’s glass everywhere.” Rain blew through the window over the kitchen sink as Meredith picked her way into the room. Glass crunched under her shoes. Max emerged into the room from behind her, and they both paused to take in the amount of destruction.
Max pushed past Meredith and lifted a six-foot limb from the floor. He dragged it to the open doorway, the broken door now lying half-in and half-out of the kitchen. Sean led the others out of the cellar to stand and gape at the damage. The rain had soaked everything, and the wind had hurled tree limbs and debris from outside through the shattered window and door. The little tiled table had been reduced to so much kindling and porcelain pieces scattered across the floor.
“Wow.” Paulette hugged her waist. “What a mess.”
“At least we’re all safe. I want to see what else happened.” Meredith picked her way across the floor and through the swinging door to the hallway. At the far end, the front doors stood wide open, the rain and wind wreaking havoc on the hardwood floors. More limbs and leaves lay blasted across the space, scratches glaring in the floorboards. One front window lay in shards on the floor, the apparent victim of an eight-foot tree limb.
“The sewing room is intact.” Max shook his head. “It’s bad in here but not irreparable.”
“It’s pretty minor, thankfully.” She closed the front doors, relieved the ancient wood panels remained unharmed when they blew open. Finding solid wood doors to replace them would have been difficult. She turned to Max. “I spotted some plastic in the cellar we can use to cover the kitchen window.”
“That’ll work, at least temporarily.”
When they returned to the kitchen, Sean already had the door propped back in place. Meg had started sweeping up the glass. Brock hefted the last of the large limbs outside, while Dina and Paulette gathered the smaller pieces and added them to the growing pile. Before long, the broken windows in the kitchen and the foyer both sported an expanse of blue tarp held in place with gray duct tape. The swirling leaves settled onto the floor as the wind inside stopped.
Meredith finished sweeping up the glass from the front hall, dumping the shards into the trash can. The gouges on the floor would be harder to clear away. She knelt down to inspect the damage. Rocking back onto her heels, she considered leaving the scarred floor as it was; a reminder to her that not all scars need to be obliterated in order for the past to not impede the future. Sometimes our scars help show the strength we’ve developed through the adversity in our lives.
“The rain’s stopped.” Max sank to a squatting position beside her, bringing to mind the other time, in the sewing parlor, when they’d shared their first kiss. “Did you want to check out the exterior damage now?”
She knelt in front of him, placed her hands on his shoulders and kissed him. “Yes, since the interior is secured against further damage.”
They walked together through the door and surveyed the front of the property. Several large trees stood snapped midway up their trunks, leaving jagged fragments pointed to the heavens. The path of the tornado scored a barren swath of land leading up to the side of the house, though thankfully skirting the building. Following the trail of desolation, Meredith and Max strolled around the house.
The beautiful white gazebo peppered the backyard and family cemetery with pieces of wood and metal. Tears smarted Meredith’s eyes. The gazebo had held as many memories as any other part of the plantation. Most recently of sisters sharing secrets among the fairy lights. But those memories, both old and new, were all the more cherished because of their uniqueness.
“I’m sorry, Meredith.”
She glanced at his sad eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll rebuild it.” Meredith tread onto the stone foundation. “Complete with fairy lights.”
Max stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned her head against his chest and sighed. She never thought she’d feel contentment with another man, yet here she stood among the debris of the gazebo with Max holding her, comforting her. Amid devastation she found comfort. A tear trickled down her cheek as she surveyed the snapped and flung trees, the battered wrought-iron fence, and the gazebo’s white boards strewn across the yard like so many matchsticks. Leaves rustled behind her, but she didn’t move when Max shifted his weight. His solid support meant more to her than she had ever hoped to experience again.
“It could’ve been worse.” Paulette strolled up to stand with them. “At least no one was hurt.”
Meredith exhaled, knowing she spoke the truth. The others trailed outside to witness the damage. She pushed away from Max’s embrace, the rush of cool air on her back making her shiver. Dragging in a deep breath, she detected wet earth mixed with the aroma of early spring flowers but no whiff of honeysuckle. She smiled, knowing Grace finally did rest in peace.
“Well, I’m so glad we had this chance to spend time with you, a ghost, and a tornado.” Brock quirked an eyebrow. “So worthwhile making this trip to be with my girls.”
Meredith chuckled, a lopsided grin forming. “Glad we could entertain, Dad.”
Dina smacked Brock’s arm. “Be serious, will ya?”
“What?” Brock assumed an offended look, though his grin belied his attempt.
Sean laughed, clasping Meg’s hand. “I’ll grab the wheelbarrow and start cleaning this mess up while we still have daylight.”
“I’ll grab my gloves and start on the boards.” Meg hurried away with him, hand in hand, toward the shed.
“So, Paulette, do you still want to live here?” Meredith smiled at her sister.
“Of course.” Paulette crossed her arms and gazed at Meredith. “Why?
“We’ve got our work cut out for us.”
Paulette hugged Meredith. “I’m in, don’t worry.”
Meredith turned to Max and angled her head, assessing his serious expression. She squeezed his hand. “What about you, lawyer dude? Are you in too?”
__________
The sun lowered behind the plantation house, casting long shadows across the yard. Meredith cradled a glass of wine, its fruity tones intoxicating after the hard work everyone had put in clearing debris all afternoon. Her folks had already taken off for home, worried about any possible damage at their place from the rampant storms. Paulette had pleaded a headache and taken a cup of tomato soup and crackers to her room to recuperate. Meg and Sean had retreated to their home for the evening as well. That left Meredith and Max on the porch, alone.
Max insisted she relax and reconnoiter her thoughts, her plans. He settled onto the two-person swing at the corner of the wraparound porch, sipping some of her dad’s whiskey on the rocks. His gaze weighed upon her, though she pretended not to notice he watched her actions. She scanned the yard succumbing to the deepening shadows. Stars twinkled in the distance, innumerable and mysterious.
He was right. She did need to determine her next steps. What should she do with the family plantation? Ten bedrooms seemed an awful lot of wasted space if they always sat empty. Of course, Paulette and Meredith would each occupy one, and Paulette’s baby would occupy another. What about the other seven? She rubbed her forehead with her thumb and index finger, massaging the tightness lodged above her eyes.
“Are you okay?” Max’s deep chocolate voice reached her, his concern apparent.
“I’ve been worse.” She glanced at him, and then back to where the gazebo once stood. “Thanks for all you’ve done for me, Max.”
The swing creaked, followed by Max’s footsteps approaching. His hands gripped her arms, and he turned her to face him. His eyes glowed in the soft lighting. She smelled his spicy aftershave overlaid by the scent of his honest labor on her behalf. Crickets sang as background to the last strains of the birds crooning themselves to sleep.
“When I look at you, I see the most beautif
ul woman in the world.” Max slipped his hands down her arms to grasp hers. “But more even, your courage and your deep love for your family shines from your soul.”
“Max, I—”
“Shhh. Let me finish.” He kissed her, a soft pressure that thrummed through her. “You attract me like bears to honey, or steel to a magnet. I must touch you, feel you beneath my hands. You’ve become my obsession.”
“Is that a good thing?” She laughed, sounding nervous to her own ears.
“I believe so.” He pulled her closer and kissed her. “I know you’ve been through a very rough time, losing both your husband and your child. I can’t imagine the enormity of the challenge you faced, working through the grief.”
She closed her eyes, a flash of the old pain searing her gut. She opened her eyes and worked her lower lip between her teeth, drawing his attention to her mouth. “It’s been the most difficult time of my life.”
He speared her with his gaze. “Grief is a tunnel, Meredith, not a destination. We pass through it, no matter how long or dark it may be. We find a way through it, a way to light the path so we come out the other end ready to face the rest of our lives without the ones we’ve lost. Whether the way is through religion or family or yelling and screaming. But we always find a way to traverse the grief tunnel. Always.”
She’d never thought of grieving the way he described. She searched his eyes, where caring and concern shone. And something else. She leaned closer, delving deep into his expression. His lips pressed together and then relaxed at her nearness. Captivated, she reached to kiss him, pressing her mouth to his as a thank-you for his understanding, and as a giving of herself to this man who attracted her like—now, what did he say?—bears to honey and steel to magnets. She, too, couldn’t help being drawn to him despite all her protests.
His arms slipped around her, crushing her against his hard chest. His mouth opened to her tongue, seeking entrance. He tasted delicious, the whiskey he drank heightening his natural essence and combining with the wine she’d consumed. The notes of sweet and smoky harmonized, building to a crescendo of sensation flowing through her. She rode the wave, amazed she could once more experience the pleasure of kissing. Max ignited a passion in her unlike any other she’d known. He deepened the kiss, one hand clasping her breast, and all analytical thoughts disintegrated into the sheer bliss of being with a virile man. Of being with Max.