Dream Chasers

by Becky Melby

  April turned, watching the expression on his face as he answered the call. His eyes glowed. “Uh-huh. You’re sure? Okay, I’ll ask her.”

  His eyes fixed on hers as he closed the phone. A ripple of fear swept over April, though she had no idea why.

  “That was Darren.” Seth’s hand grasped her arm, as if to steady her. “About that fear-conquering habit. . .”

  ❧

  The minute the van door closed behind her, she knew she’d made a huge mistake. By the time she found the words to explain her change of mind, Darren was peeling out of the gas station parking lot. April pressed her hand against the window, in final farewell to Kirk and Yvonne. She stared at her car, with Kirk sliding in behind the wheel, until Darren turned a corner on what felt like two wheels. She was trapped.

  Next to her in the center of the middle seat, oblivious to her terror, Seth dug around in a camera bag, familiarizing himself with different lenses. Darren, his eyes more on the conglomeration of equipment in the passenger seat than on the road, jabbered with Seth in a language April didn’t understand. Terms like “supercell,” “radial velocity,” “A-bomb,” “agitated region,” “wedge,” “altocumulus,” “knuckles,” and “anvil” ricocheted off the van’s interior.

  April’s fingers melded into her shoulder harness. They were heading west, barreling toward an enormous wall of gray. The sky took on a bile green hue. Wind rocked the van. Veins stood out on Darren’s hands as he fought with the steering wheel.

  Seth unfastened his seat belt and reached between the front seats. Swiveling Darren’s laptop so that April could see the screen, he pointed to an angry blob of red and orange on the radar. “There’s hail in there. Figuring in that updraft, I’m guessing it’s big. Golf ball–size at least.” The zeal in his voice made him sound more like a sportscaster than a meteorologist. He sat on the edge of the seat, hands folded, eyes darting between the radar and the windshield. “Yeah, baby. This is gonna be good.”

  Good? What planet were these guys from? Maybe the account in Genesis had been mistranslated. The thing God took out of man to form into woman wasn’t a rib; it was common sense!

  But that didn’t explain Caitlyn. Though she’d been a basketball whiz, April’s sister had also been as girlie girl as they come. And yet, the only thing she’d underlined twice on her dream list had been “See a tornado.” So what would Caitlyn be doing if she were here. . .sitting next to tall, dark, and handsome, speeding toward a whirling bank of violent clouds? The answer startled her. Caitlyn would be laughing.

  So maybe April couldn’t laugh, but she could make an effort to relax and to try to understand the man beside her. “What did Mark Twain say again?”

  His lips parted in a look that she could only label “delight.” “ ‘Courage is not the absence of fear but resistance to the mastery of fear.’ ”

  “What’s the rest of it?”

  “ ‘Except a creature be part coward, it is not a compliment to say it is brave.’ ” He laughed, wrapped both arms around her, and planted a noisy kiss on her cheek. “You’re amazing.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “Amazingly scared.”

  “Amazing because you’re scared. And you’re here.”

  ❧

  “Listen to the roar!” Seth lowered his window.

  Pressure pounded against April’s eardrums. The noise was like nothing she’d ever experienced. Like standing directly beneath Niagara Falls.

  On top of the roar, the heavens opened fire on them, on the acres of ripening corn on either side of the highway. Hail, bouncing like ping-pong balls, bombarded the van with a thundering volume that drowned out the voice of the radio announcer.

  The barrage lasted only moments. The deafening noise stopped as abruptly as it started, leaving a silence equally disturbing. Darren turned north onto Highway 169. The greenish sky gave way to murky black. Beside her, Seth ducked even lower for a better view through the windshield.

  April crouched beside him, waiting, her heart pounding with something that wasn’t fear alone. Excited anticipation had somehow sneaked in. The realization stunned her.

  “There!” She followed Seth’s outstretched hand to a V-shaped cloud descending from a swirling, pewter gray mass. Suddenly, a white tube dropped like a massive Slinky.

  “What a hose!”

  “That’s a monster!”

  “Look at the motion at the base. Huge debris cloud!”

  Seth’s and Darren’s words overlapped. From the van radio, stern warnings added to the chaos: “. . . long line of storms moving northeast at about thirty miles per hour. We do not want you to be out looking at this potentially hazardous storm. There are spotters on the ground, emergency management directors and trained spotters. Stay indoors. Seek shelter. If you’re out in this, do not stay in your car. Do not park under an overpass. Find a low-lying ditch and lie flat until the storm passes. The storm center is heading toward Hill City and. . . .”

  Shingles, branches, fence posts, and corn stalks spun out from the dust-choked vortex that ripped across the open fields. Narrowing in the middle, the tornado was shaped more like a bud vase than a funnel. April watched in stunned silence, a sense of awe momentarily obliterating her fear. She glanced at the speedometer. The needle edged toward eighty. Darren made a wide turn onto a gravel road, barreling toward the next intersection where he again headed north.

  “Incredible! Turn off the wipers for a minute.” Seth aimed the video camera at the white shaft that seemed to hover on the road about two miles ahead of them, churning a brown cloud of debris, spitting out trees like toothpicks. “Great shot. Great. . .” He lowered the camera, leaned forward. “Darren. . .” His voice was thick with warning.

  “I see it.” Darren slammed on the brakes.

  “Back up! Get out of here! It’s headed straight for us!”

  April’s hands clamped onto Seth’s arm as the van sped backwards.

  “We’re okay. We’re safe.” Seth repeated the words, but his face told the truth.

  A piece of PVC pipe smashed against the windshield. Seconds later, the brown cloud engulfed the van. Darren slowed. Something heavy crashed against the roof. Seth grabbed a jacket from the backseat and threw it over her. April knew instinctively why. To shield her from breaking glass. She squeezed her eyes shut and buried her face in his shoulder.

  Just when April was sure she would scream, silence slammed down on them.

  Dust settled. The twister had disappeared. A whoop from Darren shattered the stillness. Seth echoed the sound and then broke into laughter. As relief flooded her body, April pried her fingers from Seth’s arm.

  Darren did a U-turn and then came to a stop. Sunlight knifed through steel gray clouds. A swath of color arced from the split in the clouds to a field of gently fluttering corn.

  Seth’s lips brushed her ear. “I’m in love with one mighty brave lady.”

  Twenty

  Seth stood at a distance, watching as April got down on her knees beside a little girl with windswept blond ringlets and spoke into the KXPB microphone.

  “While her mom fills out Red Cross vouchers for food and new clothes, I’m visiting with three-year-old Zoe Lewis. Zoe and her mom and little sister moved into a mobile home park just outside of Hinckley only two months ago.” April looked from the camera to the little girl and back. “In the wake of a series of tornadoes that touched down in Minnesota a week ago, Zoe’s family is homeless, and Zoe’s holding the only possession the Lewis family now owns.” She jiggled the ear of the dirt-stained stuffed dog clutched in Zoe’s arms. “Who’s this?”

  “Misser Peabody.”

  “I heard that somebody found Mister Peabody for you after the storm. Where did they find him?”

  “He was stuck in a ’lectric wire high, high over the trees. On TV, they showed a pitcher of him stuck, and my mom called, and a man from the ’lectric company climbed up and got him and bringed him to me.”

  April stood with her hand on the little girl’s shoulder and f
aced the camera. “Just one of hundreds of stories we’ve heard in the past few days, which is why KXPB is joining forces with local churches, businesses, and organizations to help raise funds for these families and. . . .”

  “She’s a natural.”

  Seth jumped at the out-of-place voice. “Gil! What are you doing here?”

  Gil Cadwell ran a hand through his hair. “I hope I’m here to bring you some peace.”

  No words came to mind. Seth settled for a raise of his eyebrows.

  “I had a little talk with my daughter the other day.” His eyes sparkled with mirth. “I informed her that I had no record of her paying off her credit card debt to me.”

  “What?” Seth couldn’t believe what he was hearing. This was the man Brenda called “Old Softy” to his face.

  “Yup. It felt awfully good, too. You should have seen the look on Margaret’s face when I calmly stated that there were no papers that indicated that the monetary gifts Seth Bachelor had been sending me for the past three years had anything to do with what Brenda owed me.” Gil winked and chuckled. “I said that I would, however, be willing to expunge her debt if she signed over her half of the station to you, no strings attached.” He pulled an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to Seth. “Be happy, son.”

  ❧

  “Are you sure I’m not stepping on some reporter’s toes?” Picking her way along a sidewalk strewed with debris, April handed the microphone to Seth. “Is this really okay with your boss?”

  “I. . .don’t have a boss.”

  A sick feeling settled hard in April’s stomach. Had he gotten in another argument? Or gotten fired for taking off last Friday? “You lost your job?”

  The granddaddy of all patronizing expressions swept over Seth’s face.

  Men! Why had she ever tried to understand this one? “What happened?”

  “I don’t have a boss, but I do have a job. More of one than I want, actually.”

  She was too tired for games. She’d spent most of the past week serving meals and reading stories to children at the emergency shelters set up in three church basements. . .and doing television interviews of the victims. This was the fifth day that her coverage would be broadcast on the six o’clock news, yet she still hadn’t spoken to anyone at KXPB other than Seth and the cameraman. The whole setup struck her as odd. But she loved every exhausted minute of it. It didn’t matter that she had no idea if she’d be compensated for her reporting time. The thought had occurred to her more than once that, if she’d still been working at KPOG, she wouldn’t have been freed up to do this. God was in control. Raising public awareness of the needs of these people who were truly homeless was where she was supposed to be. And by the time she dropped onto Yvonne’s couch around midnight every night, she was too worn-out to feel the lumpy cushions.

  She aimed a lopsided smile at Seth. “I’m too brain-dead for riddles, Mr. Bachelor. Spit it out.”

  He handed the microphone to the cameraman. His hands rested on her shoulders, and he kissed the tip of her nose. “We need to talk.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “I hope it’s not.” His hand slid over hers, and they walked toward the road.

  An elderly couple who April had interviewed earlier in the week stood beside a washer and dryer, the only things still intact in the pile of tinder that had once been their home. April waved, and the man held up a sheaf of crumpled papers. “We found our marriage license!”

  His wife laughed. “We’re still legal!”

  “Congratulations!” April turned to Seth. “Why does it take losing everything to figure out what’s really important?”

  Brown eyes smiled back at her. “What have you figured out so far?”

  “That God’s plans don’t have to make sense.” She grinned at him. “And men don’t either.”

  He laughed. “Thank you. That makes this next part so much easier.”

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “Just hear me out. This is one of those Lots of Grace Required moments.”

  “O. . .kay.”

  Seth steered her around a dented microwave on the side of the road. “I haven’t been completely. . .forthright about some things, and I’m hoping my reasons will make sense.” He took an audible deep breath. “A few days before our wedding date, Brenda’s father gave us a wedding gift. An unbelievable wedding gift.”

  He stopped to say hi to two men from the power company, giving April’s imagination time to spin out of control.

  “He deeded KXPB and his helicopter to the two of us.”

  “You own the station?” April stopped walking. “With Brenda?”

  “I did. Until half an hour ago. That was her father I was talking to.” Seth rubbed the back of his neck. “I made a deal with Brenda, a stupid deal, in retrospect. She didn’t want to sell me her half of the station. Looking back, I realize I should have just walked away from it, but I offered to pay off her credit card debt and the debt to her father in payment for my half of the station. I didn’t have a thing put in writing. I love her dad and trust him implicitly. I figured that with him involved she wouldn’t try anything underhanded. But when I made my last payment, she refused to sign the deed over to me. Anyway. . .Daddy stepped in, and the deed is now in my name alone.”

  April’s knees felt like jelly, like the feeling after a near miss on the freeway. “You own the station?”

  “And my second order of business will be to fire my station manager, which will make me the temporary manager as well as owner.” A sheepish look spread across his face. “I’m the man upstairs.”

  April’s mouth opened, but what came out wasn’t indignation. It was laughter. “You’re the one who didn’t hire me because I might move on?”

  “Kind of ironic, isn’t it?” His fingertips pulled a strand of hair off her cheek. “But I’d like to make amends for that mistake. I’ve been wanting to for weeks. That’s the reason I shared your talk show idea with Brenda.”

  “I’m guessing she wasn’t all in favor of the idea.” An almost literal light went on in April’s consciousness. “She’s still in love with you! That’s why she tried to get me away from here, isn’t it? That’s why she was so willing to join forces with my mother.”

  Seth’s gaze dropped to the ground. “Apparently.”

  Rising on tiptoes, she brushed her lips across his forehead. “Who could blame her?”

  He smiled, clearly relieved that she’d broken the tension. “Anyway, the strings are all cut, and I’m free to make executive decisions. So the first one I’m making is to offer you a daily talk show. Real people, real stories, with a real beautiful host. Interested?”

  At that moment, KXPB’s newly hired talk show host couldn’t have put two words together if her life depended on it. Her tears answered for her.

  Twenty-one

  “Thank you, John.” April smiled at John Nelson, Pine Bluff’s town chairman, sitting across from her in an overstuffed leather chair. Turning toward Camera Two, she was glad she couldn’t see beyond the lights, or her gaze would have strayed to the man with dark brown eyes. The man who, every week for ten months now, had watched her from his chair beside the studio door. “Tomorrow night we’ll be talking to Trace and Sydney McKay—a real-life ‘prison to praise’ story. Thanks for joining us.”

  April uncrossed her legs, shedding the tension that came with taping a show. “That was an amazing story, John. After this airs tonight, we’ll get tons of e-mail.”

  Leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, John gave her a strange look. “You know, my heart attack not only brought me to Christ, it also left me with an insatiable desire to experience things I’d never done before. Legal things—not like climbing a water tower.” He winked at April.

  “This sounds like a topic for another show. What kind of things?” April picked up the water bottle that sat on the floor beside her chair.

  “Hot air ballooning, for one. I wanted to try it, just once. But being up there, a
way from all the hustle and bustle, seeing this panorama of God’s handiwork, I got hooked. The experience is. . .worship. That’s the only way I can describe it. Especially right now with the trees all in bloom. So I got trained, and I bought a share in a balloon. I’m giving rides to everyone I know. Including you.”

  “It is on my list, John. Someday. . .”

  “Today’s as good as any. Gorgeous spring day and the air’s still. Right about sundown would be perfect. Let’s go.”

  As April responded with a nervous chuckle, Seth stepped out of the dark, holding out her jacket and a wrapped package, shoe box size. Only then did she notice the cameras were still on.

  ❧

  John cranked the burner, and April’s fingers bit into the side of the wicker basket. Anticipating a stomach-lurching sensation at liftoff, she closed her eyes and buried her face in Seth’s shoulder.

  “Smile for the camera.” His breath was warm on her cheek.

  “I can’t. Tell me when we’re off the ground.”

  “We’re off the ground.”

  “What?” Now that she concentrated on it, she could sense that the earth was no longer beneath her feet. Cautiously, she opened her eyes. The ground crew waved, a KXPB camera tilted up to track them. The figures grew small. A burst of noise drew her eyes to the flame spurting from the burner and the envelope of primary colors that towered overhead. “Amazing.”

  Pine Bluff and the St. Croix shrank beneath their feet as they drifted northwest on the air currents. April pointed out Main Street and the chamber of commerce building. Seth found his house. Soft pinks, luminous purples, and stark whites dotted the spaces between houses. In seconds, they were at eye level to the catwalk on the water tower.

  Seth pointed toward the tower. “Remember a year ago when we shared a moment at the top of that thing?”

  “I’ll never forget it. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Still gripping the side of the basket, she grinned up at him.

  “Maybe I can make a moment you’ll want to remember.”

  “You already are.”