Winter Storms

by Oliver, Lucy

  At least Liam was safe, white faced and clutching his side, but snatched from the waves by a man who paid a terrible price for his bravery. Reaching the top step, he turned and leaned down to pull Liam up to the harbour side, where he gripped his arm and they stood for a moment, exhausted, battered and fearful.

  Liam drew a shaky breath. “Thanks for saving me,” he said.

  Daniel shook his head, he didn’t deserve thanks, not when they were a man down. Looking back over the edge into the lifeboat beneath, he watched Steve climb onto the ladder and make his slow way up, hand over hand, the wind buffeting his waterproof, clawing at his hat. Hadn’t it done enough damage today? How much blood did the gale want before it finally blew itself out? There were so many storms in Haven Bay, each one leaving behind a trail of broken homes and boats, occasionally an empty space at a dinner table. You respected the ocean here, or it took you down.

  Wiping the rain from his face with his hands, he looked at the lifeboat station. Crowds spilled from the door, standing in a little circle of light, holding out blankets and hot cups of tea, word had spread, roused the town. White faces stared at him, compassion in their eyes, mouths trembling, not daring to approach, yet desperate to comfort.

  His parents stood waiting, his mother taking a step nearer, before drawing back, as if she understood that it wasn’t her that he wanted. Under the lights in the far corner there was a flash of red hair, with her hood down and hair soaking wet, Carly stood watching him, her face crumpled and tears flowing freely from her eyes.

  She knew.

  Luke flung a silver blanket over Liam and the rest of the townsfolk came forward, hugging, shaking out blankets, pouring drinks out of flasks, pulling the exhausted men into the lifeboat station. Ian Bainbridge, head low, legs stumbling, was supported by a doctor and his son. Sirens wailed, blue flashing lights reflected back from the puddles on the floor; a policeman touched his shoulder and whispered, “Well done, we thought we’d lost all of you.”

  Daniel nodded, then Carly stepped forward, her shoulders shaking.

  “I’m sorry about Mick,” he said.

  Weeping, she reached up to put her arms tight around his neck.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” she said. “It was no one’s fault, expect that damn ocean, the weather, the forces of nature. Mick was a risk taker, he’d do anything to save a life. It was only a matter of time, I always knew one day he wouldn’t return.”

  She wound her arms around his neck and drawing him close, he tasted her lips, her tears and the rain that poured down both their cheeks.

  “I love you,” she said. “I always have. I’m sorry for pushing you away, I was afraid after what happened before, that I would get hurt again.”

  “I would never hurt you.”

  “I know, Ali told me some things I needed to hear.” She wiped her eyes again. “And I was so frightened I’d lost you, that you’d gone out into that storm without knowing that I loved you.” She drew in a shuddering breath. “I lost the use of my leg doing a sport I loved, but Mick lost his life saving another person. Who am I to make a fuss? It could have been far worse, my life isn’t wretched, it’s just taken a different turn, and I was wrong to blame you for it. It wasn’t your fault, I’m not innocent over the dangers of the cliffs and tides, I should have refused to go.”

  He swallowed. “I can’t cope with this, Carly, this is the third time. How long will it be until you decide you hate me again?”

  “I won’t, sitting tonight in the hospital watching Ali in labour and fearing for the rest of you, made me realise how unimportant winning was. It hasn’t made you happy, I doubt it will do the same for me. But you make me happy and I want us to be together, I’m sorry for being so difficult, I needed time to think, to accept it all.”

  Daniel looked away, it hurt too much to look into her eyes. Here she was saying everything he always hoped she would say, but he couldn’t put his arms around her and hold her as he wanted to so much. He couldn’t take anymore, his heart couldn’t take any more. She’d change her mind again once the emotions of the night had gone, when she knew they were all safe.

  Shaking his head, he stepped back. “I got Liam back for you,” he said. “We’re even now. I don’t owe you anything, I can’t spend the rest of my life atoning for one mistake.”

  “I’ve been trying to tell you that, I don’t want you to.”

  “It’s too late, by tomorrow you’d have changed your mind again anyway. There’s no point, it can’t work, it never will, not unless I give up sailing, which I offered to do, and even that wasn’t enough.”

  She inhaled sharply and he couldn’t tell if it was water or tears that gleamed on her cheeks.

  “Don’t do this,” she said.

  “I’m returning home tomorrow, and this time, I doubt I’ll be coming back.”

  Turning around, he strode into the night, ignoring the shouts from his family and friends, needing to be alone in the dying residues of the storm.

  • • •

  Daniel unlocked his flat and pushing open the door, flung his bags across the wooden floor, to land with a smack against the skirting board. A pile of post lay behind the door and snatching it up, he tossed it onto the hall table. Imogen hadn’t been back, at least not for longer then it took to grab the rest of her belongings. He sighed in relief, at the moment he just wanted to be by himself.

  Dropping onto the leather sofa, he stared at the wide screen TV, the abstract art pictures on the walls, so bang on trend, but if he were honest, he preferred Carly’s flat with its regency striped paper and brightly decorated kitchen. It suited the type of person he was. He’d never fitted in with being one half of a celebrity couple, he just wanted to sail, and have someone to return home to. But that didn’t look possible, because the girl he wanted was so hot and cold, he couldn’t take anymore.

  Remembering the shocked expression on her face when he strode away, he closed his eyes. Had he just made a terrible mistake? Overreacted again? He’d been so patient though, tried to understand why she felt like she did and it had got him nowhere. She’d been right at the start, too much had happened and their lives were too different, it never would have worked.

  Or would it? Rising, he paced the room, pausing to look at a picture of him and Imogen on top of the white painted shelving unit: they were clinging together and smiling, except his own smile didn’t reach his eyes. Taking out his wallet, he took out a photo of a laughing brown haired girl, green eyes staring at the camera, then folding up a flap on the photo, added himself in beside her. No wonder Imogen had left him when she saw the picture, he was pressed tight to Carly, his head resting on hers, eyes alive. So much younger and happier, confident that the world was theirs to take; knowing nothing of injuries or depression or guilt. Could they ever go back to the way they used to be?

  He’d never know now, because there was no way he was going back to Haven Bay again, he could never see these cliffs and harbour or her again, it would hurt too much. His childhood home belonged to her now: she’d settled there, made a life for herself. And what would he do? Try and get back on the team? Did he even want to do that? More to the point, was there anything else he could do? She’d started a new career, but he was older and more well-known, it would be hard to find something else to do. It would also mean giving up sailing and he wasn’t sure he could cope with that, never feeling the rush of adrenaline again as he raced.

  The doorbell rang and he cursed, it wouldn’t be a salesman, not in these flats, they’d never get past security. It must be one of his teammates or Shane and he didn’t want to talk to either. It pealed again and sighing, he kicked his bags out the way and strode toward it, pushing the handle down and flinging it open.

  It was red hair he caught sight of first, then green eyes, and then a suitcase.

  “Hello,” Carly said.

  Open-mout
hed, he stared.

  “Since you didn’t want to stay in Haven Bay, I thought I’d come here,” she said. “Live in the city. Not with you of course, unless you want me to, but nearby so we can see each other, maybe go out for a drink or a meal, without fighting. I could come and watch you race.” Her voice trembled.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve left Haven Bay too.”

  He stepped back from the door so she could walk in, staring at her in shock. Carly would never leave Haven Bay, she loved the place too much, everything she had was there. She wouldn’t give all that up to live here with him.

  “Why have you left?” he said.

  “Because I want to be with you and since you’re not coming back, this was the only thing I could do.”

  Daniel swallowed, looking at her standing in his lounge, her bright hair the most colourful thing in the room. She would really give up her home, flat and Liam, her only family, to come and live with him in a city she didn’t like?

  “Carly,” he said.

  “No, let me speak. I love you Daniel, I really do and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to realise that. It’s not an impulsive thing because of losing Mick.” Her voice shook. “You’re my best friend, you always were and I can’t be without you. I understand if you don’t want me, but I needed you to know how I felt, so I don’t spend the rest of my life regretting that I never spoke out. I was wrong to hold the accident against you for so long, I should have accepted it better. I felt like such a failure though, a burden. But you do love me, or at least, you did, I know you risked your life to save Liam because you knew how devastated I would have been if he’d died.”

  He closed his eyes, it was impossible to stand in front of her and not touch her. Stepping forward, he put his arms around her, holding her close against him. Then he kissed her cold mouth, her cheeks and neck — she belonged to him, as he did to her, and it was a shame they had wasted two years in finding that out.

  Drawing back from her, he smiled down. “You don’t seriously want to leave the Bay and live here?”

  “I would, if you wanted me to, so you could get to training.” Her voice was steady and her eyes never flinched.

  He smiled, leaning down to kiss her lips again. “I think I could manage to drive in everyday, if I get back on the team, that is.”

  “I’ve rung Shane, told him that I’ve been sailing again and that I’ll try out in a few months’ time for the Paralympics.”

  He drew back. “You shouldn’t do that for me, Shane only said we had to get you sailing again, not competing.”

  “I’m not doing it for you, it’s for me. I want to feel the wind in my hair and hear water bubbling under the stern. I want to handle a boat again, to be free like I was, I can’t walk on land very well, but in a boat, I can race.”

  Clutching her tight again, he pressed his lips against hers and slid his hand underneath her coat, unbuttoning it and dropping it to the floor. She wouldn’t be needing it for a while, because she wouldn’t be returning home tonight, for now he needed her close against him, to kiss her and taste her, to reassure himself that she had finally returned to him, and that this time, she was staying.

  EPILOGUE

  Carly leant against the warm rail, hot sun burning down on her arms. Glancing at the long, bare legs of the girl next to her, she looked away and smiled. You couldn’t have everything. A klaxon sounded on the jetty beneath and she craned her head to watch the ten white sails shooting off across the bay, water rippling. The tourists standing beside her cheered and raising her hands, she clapped, making her palms sting. The Summer Gala was always popular, but people still talked about planning another winter one.

  The smooth, green-blue waves lapped up the yellow beach, which lay dotted with bright red umbrellas and stripy beach towels. The summer visitors loved the sailing gala, wading out into the water to wave at the dinghies speeding past. On the beach, a lifeguard watched them from her chair, whistle around her neck.

  After Mick’s death, the harbour had emptied of boats, whether out of respect or fear, Carly didn’t know, but the first time she saw a sail in the bay, she smiled in relief and joy. The waters were dangerous, but they were also part of Haven Bay and the townsfolk here had fished, sailed and paddled in them since they first settled in the small flat plain above the beach. She didn’t want people to be scared, just to be aware of the power of the ocean.

  Shielding her eyes, she peered toward the black cliffs, in front of them bobbed a bright orange lifeboat, the crew standing on the deck, watching the boats. She promised Mick a new craft and with his help, she’d got one. After his death, donations had poured into the fund, far more than they had needed. Now Padstow too had a modern lifeboat and Duncan had been driven away: she’d watched him pack his suitcases into his car with a smile. Later it came out that he wanted the land the lifeboat station stood on, had planned to turn it into a beach café — for the chance to sell tea and coffees to tourists, he’d been willing to let people drown. There was no place for someone like him in Haven Bay.

  Staring at the tiny figures on the lifeboat, she waved; it was unlikely Liam would see her, but she wanted to acknowledge him. It was funny how in places like this, the loss of a lifeboat man didn’t put others off, in fact they’d had dozens of new volunteers to replace Mick. Her brother had joined after his last fishing trip, admitting it to her with a fearful expression, but she’d hugged him and said how delighted she was. It was almost true.

  Of course, she was afraid when the waves rose high in the air and trees bent double in a gale, but she never showed it. Liam loved the sea and there was no reason to stay away from it; accidents happened and when they did, you could only learn to live with the consequences, or destroy yourself.

  “Carly!”

  She smiled and turned away from the rail, looking at the crowds of people in the harbour. Waving, Daniel stood beside Ali who pushed a pram, her skin glowing under the sun. She’d asked Carly to be godmother to her daughter, which she tactfully turned down — she wasn’t godmother material — but she often looked after baby Shelly during quiet times in the shop to give Ali a break.

  Soon, she might have a child of her own, she and Daniel had discussed it. After their wedding, she was going to try for the Paralympics, and after that, they would try for a baby. In the meantime, they shared her flat and he got up early to drive in for training.

  Taking her cane, she strode across the grass toward them.

  “Hello,” Daniel said, wrapping his arms around her. “I wondered where you’d got to.”

  “Watching the sailing, I see you did decide to leave off entering this time?”

  “I thought I’d give someone else a chance.” He laughed when she playfully slapped him and leaned down to kiss her. Reaching up, she slid her arms around him, drawing him close, breathing in his scent. How could she have ever imagined she could be happy without him? He’d been so much support as she mourned Mick. Ali had been right, if Carly wanted a man who never made a mistake, then she’d better carry on looking, but if she wanted one who would hold her tight and never let her go, then she could only have Daniel Edwards.

  About the Author

  Lucy Oliver lives in England with her family and writes both historical and contemporary fiction. Originally a short story writer, Winter Storms is her first published full-length novel.

  A Sneak Peek from Edie and the CEO by Mary Hughes

  To: ThePrez@serenityrangers.com

  From: ED@mythicmail.com

  Subject: Internet Jokes

  I loved your viola joke. Here’s one about computers.

  What’s the difference between a computer and a trampoline?

  You take off your steel-toes before jumping on the trampoline :)

  — ED

  Smack in the middle of the workday, because her brain was f
ried, Edith Ellen Rowan made her computer chirp Old MacDonald. Naturally that got her into trouble with The Bitch.

  At first, Edie didn’t even register the problem. Four sunny bars bee-booped before it hit her — her computer was playing a children’s nursery song in an office full of conservative, nitpicky ears. Houghton Howell Enterprises was staid like an insurance company’s gray suit (fun was something you had on the golf course, or once a year at the Christmas party, but never ever on the job).

  “Suck it to shell.” Edie hit the escape key. As ee-eye-ohhh died, she braced against the proverbial fan scattering the proverbial manure in the form of Bethany Blondelle, known to most of the company as The “B” if they were feeling kindly, adding the “itch” if they were not.

  Shoulders hunched and breath held, Edie waited. She’d only been trying to motivate her people. Managing a team of programmers at HHE, a firm that sold innovative (read: expensive) solutions in accounting for large companies (read: deep pockets) wasn’t easy. Her team members were getting as fried as she, and so she’d proposed the music-writing contest.

  Nothing happened. Edie gradually relaxed.

  The Star Spangled Banner burst lustily from Jack’s cubicle next door. Edie groaned.

  “What the HELL is that NOISE?” Bethany had her vocal caps lock on again. This would be bad. “Who’s making all that racket? Edie? Edie!”

  Edie face-palmed. The contest was supposed to be a bit of fun, not cause for Armageddon. She’d have preferred to ignore The B, but “Bethany” and “proactive” were so synonymous they were hyperlinked on Wikipedia.

  Sure enough, a long leg popped through the opening of Edie’s cubicle, followed by the lady herself in eye-bleeding red.

  Bethany’s fashion sense was from the DoMeHard channel. Her snappy skirts were hemmed just below her panty line. Today’s suit also featured a plunging sweetheart neckline, a chunky citrine necklace getting suffocated in her Wonder-enhanced cleavage. Her long, sleek hair was dyed crayon yellow #6.