by Amie Denman
“Better batten down the hatches,” he said.
Lightning crackled and a raindrop splashed on the dashboard of the open scooter. Megan waddled over and hoisted herself onto the seat next to June.
“The sky’s ugly. I don’t like it,” Mel said. “You take my truck. I’ll take the scooter.”
Raindrops—huge ones—bounced off Mel’s head as he leaned over June.
“You’ll get soaked.”
“Don’t care. Get in the truck, Ross,” Mel said, raising his voice over the noise of the wind. “You, too,” he added, nodding to June and Megan.
June swung her legs out of the scooter and climbed into Mel’s truck. The keys were already in the ignition. Mel shut the door, but the window was rolled down.
“This is your personal truck,” June said. “Where’s your work truck?”
“Dead battery. No big deal. You better go.”
He ducked out but was back a second later, shoving her purse through the window before she could roll it up against the wind and the steadily increasing rain.
From inside the truck, June watched Mel race down the access road in the open scooter, shoulders hunched against the pounding rain. He disappeared around a curve in the road, heading for the maintenance garage. She felt guilty taking his truck, but as far as she knew, Mel had been thinking of Megan and his son as much as her when he shoved her into the dry truck.
When he did gentlemanly things like this, it made her never want to leave him. The men on Broadway, her friends in the dancing troupe, didn’t even hold open doors. It was a dog-eat-dog world. June sighed, putting the truck in gear.
* * *
THE CELL PHONE deep in his pants pocket rang mercilessly, but Mel ignored it. One thing at a time. In the fifteen minutes since he’d sacrificed his dry pickup truck, he’d reset electric breakers at three locations in the Wonderful West and gotten so wet his socks were sponges.
“You look like a drowned cat,” Jack said.
“And you look just as pretty as the day I met you,” Mel grumbled.
Jack, his suit coat gone and white dress shirt soaked and sticking transparently to his skin, slugged Mel. He leaned out the open garage door, getting rain in his face and eyeing the dark greenish-gray sky.
“Think we ought to shut down? Use our emergency weather plan?” he asked.
Mel shrugged and pulled out his phone. “June had an app for weather on her phone. I swear I used to have that, but this is a newish phone. Forgot to have Ross update all my stuff on it. Kids,” he added.
“I’ll call Evie. She’s up front in the office,” Jack said.
Mel nodded. “Maybe it’s sunny up there and we’re crying over nothing.”
A loud crackling across the sky interrupted him and he and Jack both took a step backward into the garage.
“Crap,” Jack said, pushing a button on his smartphone.
The speakers mounted in the ceiling hissed. They were tied into the Starlight Point Police Department’s radio traffic, occasionally alerting the maintenance department to a hazard or situation requiring tools. Maintenance guys were used to listening with half an ear, usually only being called into service when guests returned to dead batteries or lock-outs in the parking lot. On a day like today, anything could come over the radio and it would be all hands on deck.
“Tree down in hotel lot, possibly on a vehicle,” the dispatcher intoned. “Possible wires down. Fire service, you copy?”
Mel swore. “Tell me you have a car of some kind back here.”
“Bicycle,” Jack said.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Where’s your truck?”
“Gave it to June,” Mel said.
“Who’s the idiot now?”
“Still you.”
Mel grabbed a chain saw from an equipment locker and hoisted a bag over his shoulder while Jack talked to Evie on his cell phone. He stowed the gear in the back of an open scooter and got in the driver’s seat as Jack slid his phone in his wet pocket.
“Well?”
“One ugly band coming off the lake and then just rain, according to the radar,” Jack said.
“How ugly?”
“Tornado ugly. Shutting down all rides and having the ride operators scuttle guests into storm shelters.” Jack’s expression was dark, serious. “Heading to the hotel lot?”
“Uh-huh,” Mel said. “Got to see about that power line. Get in. You can secure the hotel. Tornado off the lake will hit there first.”
“Major crap,” Jack said.
Wind lashed the scooter as Mel tore down the brief stretch of road leading to the hotel lot.
“Hope security already got there,” Jack shouted over the rain. “And no one’s hurt.”
“Power lines, rain, wind...” Mel commented, not bothering to finish his thought.
They edged the parking lot of the Lake Breeze Hotel. A massive cottonwood at least a century old hadn’t fallen on one vehicle. It was on at least three. And its long branches reached out, raking a half dozen more.
The rain kept onlookers inside the hotel but several Starlight Point police officers formed a perimeter around the scene, an arcing power line keeping them several yards away from the only vehicle clearly visible.
Mel’s pickup truck.
His heart dove down to his belly and his chest tightened. One heavy branch lay across the hood, crushing it, while another imprisoned the bed. Although the cab was untouched, the power line lay over it.
Jack gripped Mel’s shoulder wordlessly as they barreled out of the scooter and breached the line of police officers.
“Anyone hurt?” Jack asked, his voice shaky even over the wind and rain.
“Don’t think so,” a local cop who worked part-time at the Point said. “But we’ve got two people trapped.”
Mel didn’t need to hear his next words. He was close enough to see for himself.
“Your sister and a boy,” the officer finished, unnecessarily because both Jack and Mel were an arm’s length from the truck.
Mel leaned close, peering through the rain and the water-streaked glass. June, Ross on her lap, sat in the middle of the truck’s only seat. She stroked Ross’s hair, not noticing Mel until he shouted her name.
Immediately, she scooted behind the wheel and reached for the door handle.
“No!” Mel shouted. “Don’t open the door!”
She sunk back and snaked both arms around Ross, holding him tight. Mel’s throat was so thick he didn’t think he could speak. But he had to.
“Power company’s on the way,” Jack said. “What do we do?”
Mel ignored him, focusing on June and his son. He was never so afraid in his life but never so glad he knew what to do. If the wind and swaying trees didn’t throw any more chaos his way.
“June, do not step out of the truck,” he shouted, clearly chipping off the words. “Do not get out,” he repeated. “Understand?”
June nodded once, twice, to say she heard him, but her expression was strained with fear.
“Trust me,” Mel yelled. “Where’s Megan?”
“I dropped her off at her car before this happened.” June pointed across the hotel lot.
Wind whipped branches overhead and lightning struck close enough to raise the hair on the back of Mel’s neck. He couldn’t even think about what might have happened if he hadn’t traded vehicles with June.
“You know what you’re doing?” Jack asked. “We gotta get them out of there.”
“Not yet.”
“Are you crazy?” Jack yelled.
“Right now, the truck tires are grounding that line. As soon as anyone touches that truck—or steps out of it—they’ll be the ground,” Mel said grimly.
“We can’t just leave them,”
Jack protested. “Who knows how long the power company will be?”
Mel nodded, his eyes following the power line as it snaked through the wreckage. It was still attached to the pole several rows over, a massive transformer clinging to the top.
“Are you listening to me?” Jack shouted. “This storm could get worse. And my sister’s in there.”
Mel turned on Jack. “My son is in there,” he said.
Jack squeegeed water off his face with both hands, exasperation in every movement.
“Tell me what to do,” he said.
Mel pulled him as close to the truck as he dared and motioned for June to unroll the window a crack. She obeyed, her whole face a question mark.
“Jack’s going to stay right here and talk to you,” Mel said. “Hey, Ross.”
At his dad’s voice, Ross uncovered his eyes and almost jumped off June’s lap.
“Don’t move!” Mel shouted. “Stay right there with June. Listen to everything she tells you.”
“Are you gonna get us out of here?” he asked, his face puckered and tear-stained. Mel’s heart clenched at the sight of his son. He needed to focus. Stay calm.
“Daddy will get you out. You have to be very brave and stay still. Understand?”
Ross nodded. Mel locked eyes with him and tried to smile, but he couldn’t. He moved his gaze to June, willing her to be okay, hoping he wouldn’t let them down. In a flash of raw honesty and emotion, he realized he wished June was his wife. The mother of his son. What if he had waited for her years ago...?
“What are you going to do?” June shouted through the wind and rain coming through her open window.
“Shut off the power.”
Worry and relief flooded her face.
Jack held his position near June’s door, but he didn’t touch it.
“Be careful,” he said. “You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Yep,” Mel said. “Just need some equipment. What I really need is in my work truck, but—”
A blue Starlight Point maintenance truck pulled up right by his scooter.
“There’s what I need,” Mel finished.
Galway jumped out of the truck and speed-walked over. “Nuts,” he said. “Radio traffic says the bridge’s tied up with an accident. No power trucks from the city are getting through unless they drive all the way around and come in the Old Road. Who knows how jammed up that is.”
Mel shoved past him and stepped into the bed of the newly arrived truck. He rummaged through the bins, making a racket even over the rising wind. He finally jumped down, wearing heavy protective gloves and holding spikes and a long pole.
“Bad idea, Boss,” Galway said. “In this wind and rain, you’ll kill yourself.”
“My son’s in that truck.”
“I’ll help you,” Galway said, grabbing the pole and matching Mel’s stride as they clambered over downed branches on their way to the pole housing the transformer.
* * *
THROUGH THE RAINY WINDSHIELD, June watched Mel climb the power pole two rows of cars over. Lightning flashed and the wind rose impossibly higher.
Ross trembled. Although he sometimes seemed mature beyond his years, right now he was a terrified five-year-old boy.
“Your dad will shut off the power,” she said, straining to see what Mel was doing, but also afraid to look. She hugged Ross tighter. “He’s very brave and he knows about electricity. We’ll be out of here soon.”
Ross said nothing, and June craned her head to see his face. His eyes were squeezed shut.
“Hanging in there, June?” Jack shouted from his position outside her window.
She tried to smile bravely, imagining that this was almost as scary for him as for her. And he was in the rain. And he had the rest of the Point to worry about. Her fear deepened as she thought about the guests, food stands, rides and theaters of Starlight Point. Her friends, her family, her whole life was wrapped up on one small peninsula that was in the path of a terrifying storm.
“Where’s Evie?” June shouted. “And Mom?”
“Handling things up front and in the park. Storm shelters open, rides closed. They don’t know what’s going on here.”
June nodded, knowing there was nothing she could do. Except watch Mel climbing a pole like a human lightning rod. She didn’t even have to think about her complete faith in him. But she was afraid for him, for all of them. She closed her eyes. Maybe Ross had the right idea.
“We could sing a song,” June suggested.
“I want my dad.”
Me, too, June thought.
After several more minutes of waiting with occasional checkups from Jack interspersed with thunder, wind and some popping sounds like hailstones, a new sound reached June and Ross in the truck.
It was a slithering, grating, thrumming sound. The windows were so wet and foggy, it took June a minute to connect the dots.
“They’re pulling the wire off the truck,” she said.
Ross opened his eyes.
June leaned forward and rubbed a clear spot on the inside of the windshield. Mel and another man wore heavy gloves and used long yellow sticks to pull the thick cable away from the truck. The wire no longer snapped or sparked.
Just as she wondered if and when it would be safe to get out of the vehicle, the door flew open and Mel reached in, his long arms encircling them both. He pulled them to the edge of the seat and hugged his son tight, keeping one hand free to cradle June’s cheek.
“You’re not hurt?” he asked both of them, racing his hands over his son, checking him over.
“No,” June choked out.
“Good,” Mel said, again holding them both against him. “Because I was so scared I think I wet my pants.”
Ross laughed, the sound a warm balm against the fear and the punishing wind.
“Hotel,” Jack shouted. “Storm’s not over yet.” He draped an arm around June and hustled her toward the hotel while Mel hoisted his son and kept pace, heading for the safety of the century-old structure. His eyes met June’s and the look that passed between them had nothing to do with storms or danger. It was something June was afraid to admit to herself. He’d just rescued her, adrenaline flowed through her veins like water through a fire hose.
But she could no longer deny it. She was in love with Mel Preston.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
THERE WAS NO rational reason for his feelings. June had said from the beginning that she’d return to New York at the end of the season. She would stay there and dance as long as the lights of Broadway shone for her. There were years, maybe more than a decade, left of professional dancing in her long legs. Assuming the knee injury she had never told him about didn’t flare up.
He’d missed his chance. If ever there was a moment to tell her he loved her, it was after he’d rescued her and Ross from his storm-shattered truck. If he had told her...
She’d still be heading for the airport tomorrow for an audition.
At work, he was a take-charge man. With June, there was no taking charge. She was always looking past him toward something brighter. And she’d never lied to him.
“Ready?” June asked through the open window of her mother’s car.
She was definitely in the driver’s seat. Without a vehicle as he awaited an insurance decision on his destroyed truck, Mel had hesitated to ask June out for a farewell dinner before she left for a two-day trip to New York City. But he gave in to practicality when she offered to be his ride for the day. He’d been asking for rides for three days now and he was tired of asking his coworkers and parents.
“Ready,” Mel said. “Thanks for agreeing to drop Ross at my folks’ house. I feel like a teenager without a driver’s license.”
He slid into the passenger side and June touched his hand.
“I wrecked your truck. The least I can do is give you a ride until you get a new one.”
“You saved my son’s life. I don’t give a monkey’s butt about my truck.”
“But you still need a new one,” she said.
“I was actually hoping you’d be my driver for the rest of the summer. You’re much prettier than the guys in the garage.”
June laughed. “And who will chauffeur you while I’m in New York?”
They were both silent as she pulled onto the outer loop for the short drive from the maintenance garage to the hotel day care.
“I meant for the next few days,” she said quietly. “Not, you know, after...”
“I know what you meant.”
He thought he did. But it wasn’t any easier to go through with the plan he’d formulated instead of sleeping last night. And the two nights before that.
Have fun. Enjoy what time you have with her and accept the fact she’s not staying. Accept it. It’s not like he was turning down other dates left and right. With a more than full-time job and a five-year-old son, women were not lining up to fill his empty hours. Maybe he owed himself a summer flirtation. It would keep him going long into the cold winter ahead.
A winter in which June would be far away.
He knew he was making a mistake. Risking his heart. And his son’s. For the first time in his life, Mel had lied to Ross. Told his son that his plans with June tonight were work related. A big meeting involving other Starlight Point employees.
He wasn’t brave enough to admit to himself that he was giving in to his feelings instead of doing the smart thing and guarding his heart. Admitting it to a five-year-old boy would be a big mistake.
“Be right back,” he said when June stopped at the side entrance of the hotel.
As they drove across the Point Bridge to Mel’s parents’ house in downtown Bayside, Ross chatted about his day and his excitement about starting school in the fall. Mel wondered when it would hit Ross that Miss June wouldn’t be around on the Tuesday after Labor Day when the Bayside schools officially started. He didn’t want to break his son’s heart. Just one more reason it would be smarter to keep June at arm’s length.