by Rebecca Rode
Today she’d woken up feeling strong. Since she had the day off, and was already coming to Sunset Plains for Tanner’s class, she’d left Tulsa early and made this detour to the cemetery. What a horrible idea.
Lauren squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn’t stop tears from leaking out the corners. It had been almost four years exactly, and she could still see the caskets lying side by side, flowers covering the tops.
It took three tries to pull her car key out of the ignition. She stumbled twice as she made her away across the parking lot, the loose gravel shifting under her feet with each step. Her vision blurred, and all she could see was the green tent covering the open graves four years earlier, and the mourners gathered close. Tanner’s arm around her shoulders. Burying her face in her own cold hands, refusing to accept his small gesture of comfort. The pastor’s luminescent eyes as he told her how sorry he was for her loss. Mrs. Olson singing Amazing Grace.
Lauren stopped walking, her hand clutching at her chest. Too soon! her mind screamed. She wasn’t ready to be here. But if she wasn’t ready now, she never would be.
Breathe, she commanded. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then forced herself forward. Though she’d never visited, the location of her parents’ graves was burned into her mind.
She stumbled toward the far end of the cemetery, the May sun beating at her back. A headstone in the distance rose three feet above the ground, a silent beacon among all the smaller grave markers that were flush with the grass. The location was right. It had to be theirs. Tanner had made the final selection when Lauren couldn’t bring herself to, and she’d never asked to see his choice.
The headstone was rounded on top, the name Reynolds etched in capital letters with her parents’ names and dates below it. Lauren slowly sank to her knees, not caring that dew clung to the grass and chilled her bare legs. She placed a palm over each of her parents’ names, splaying her fingers wide as tears poured down her face.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. The breeze whipped her words away, and she imagined them being carried to where her parents watched from heaven. “I really messed things up. I couldn’t handle it after you were gone, so I left Sunset Plains. Alone.”
The breeze played with her hair, and Lauren closed her eyes and imagined it was her mother’s long, soothing fingers.
“I didn’t keep in contact with anyone,” Lauren said. “I just kept chasing tornadoes, hoping it would help me feel closer to the two of you. Sometimes it does. But I miss Sunset Plains.” And she missed Tanner.
Lauren laid a blanket over her parents’ final resting place and stretched out on her back. Dew turned the blanket damp as the clouds turned gray, moving to block the sunlight. Lauren inhaled deeply, loving the hint of rain carried on the air. A storm was coming. She could feel it in the way the breeze turned from gentle to persistent, see it in the billowing cumulonimbus clouds moving steadily closer. It felt like her parents telling her everything would be okay.
She closed her eyes, willingly allowing the memories to overtake her for the first time since running away. If she hadn’t been so attached to Tanner, she would’ve been in the car with her parents when they wrecked. Sometimes she wondered if she could’ve saved them. Her parents knew nothing about meteorology, but Lauren had been studying storms since she could read.
The breeze whipped against her cheek, a soothing reminder that she couldn’t change the past. Maybe she wouldn’t have saved them. Maybe she would’ve just died, too.
Nothing miraculous happened—no sudden epiphanies or messages from the grave—but as she lay there, the storm growing closer, she felt the cracks in her heart begin to heal.
She’d been wrong to stay away for so long. Foolish and naive and oh-so-young, but wrong all the same. The cemetery helped her feel close to her parents in a way no tornado ever had.
Lauren’s phone buzzed in her pocket, signaling it was time to go. She crawled forward, placing a light kiss over each of her parents’ names before rising.
She wouldn’t stay away so long again.
After paying her respects to Mrs. Olson, Lauren sat in the car to reapply makeup and fix her hair. Her stomach trembled with nerves, like an undertow dragging her to the ocean floor. She wasn’t worried about the presentation—four years working on a communications degree had cured her of stage fright. But how would Tanner act today? Kind? Aloof? Angry? All three, like he had at the viewing? Would he be willing to listen to her side of the story, or would he refuse to talk?
She really hoped he wanted to talk. Asking her to come had to be a good sign.
Lauren pulled into the half-empty parking lot and looked up at the two-story building. The campus had opened the year she started junior high school, and the whole town had been thrilled. Most of the classes offered were satellite feeds from the main campus in Norman, but by the time she’d graduated, you could earn an entire associate’s degree without ever leaving Sunset Plains. Tanner had earned his associate’s degree there. He hadn’t wanted to leave for Texas A&M without her.
And then she’d left him.
She fumbled with her cell, the familiar nausea of regret threatening to choke her. Twenty minutes early. Surely no students would be there yet. Which meant that if she went inside right now, she and Tanner would be alone. Did she want to risk that kind of awkwardness right before her lecture?
Lauren chewed on her lip and ran sweaty palms across her skirt. She could wait in her car, but what if the projector didn’t work, or there were connectivity issues with her laptop? Her presentation would be a total bust without the videos and photos, and she really wanted to wow Tanner and his class.
Time to face the music.
Lauren slung her laptop bag over one shoulder and headed inside. The building was eerily quiet, and her wedge sandals echoed loudly against the thick laminate flooring. She took slow, careful steps, trying to minimize the noise. A few classes were in session, but most of the rooms were dark and empty.
Room 109. She paused a few paces away, her hand tightening on her laptop bag as nerves filled her stomach. Light glowed through the small rectangular window on the closed door. Tanner.
What had made him text her? He’d seemed furious when he left the viewing. His text hadn’t exactly been warm and friendly—a sure sign it was him and not Cassidy in disguise—but he had sent one. Which meant he’d asked Cassidy for her new number.
Lauren took a deep breath and smoothed down her blouse. Then she opened the door and walked inside.
Tanner sat at a desk near the front of the room, typing away on a laptop. He looked adorable in a button-up shirt and tie, glasses slightly askew on his nose. He glanced up, his expression unreadable.
At least it wasn’t seething with hatred.
“Hey,” he said. “You’re early.”
Was that a good thing, or a bad thing? Lauren lifted her laptop bag. “I wanted to make sure the tech didn’t turn on me.”
Tanner rose, holding out a hand. For one crazy moment, she thought he was reaching for her, and giddy anticipation raced through her.
“I’ll get it all set up for you,” Tanner said.
The laptop. Right. “Thank you.”
Lauren withdrew the computer and handed it over. Tanner set it on his desk and opened the lid, then plugged in the cords. The projector light flipped on overhead, and the screen turned blue for a moment before Lauren’s desktop appeared.
“There you go,” Tanner said. His eyes were transfixed to the image. It was a rare picture of herself that Lauren had asked someone to snap while storm chasing last summer. Her hair whipped around her face, and dark thunder clouds billowed in the sky. Lauren still held a microphone in one hand, broadcasting live for a local station.
“Is that a recent picture?” Tanner asked. “I thought you said you do human interest stories.”
Lauren cleared her throat. “I do. That was last summer in Kansas. I was storm chasing with a crew, and we’d broadcast to local stations when they’d let us.”
He folded his arms, and she couldn’t tell if the gesture was defensive or casual. “So that’s where you’ve been—Kansas?”
Lauren pulled at her blouse, nerves making her teeth ache from all the clenching. “Seattle, mostly. I graduated from the University of Washington. I spent summers all over Tornado Alley—wherever the best storms were.”
“Right.”
He shifted, then ran a hand through his hair. Lauren couldn’t get a read on him. Was he agitated? Angry? He didn’t seem accusatory like he’d been before, but he didn’t exactly seem warm and friendly, either. His eyes were filled with a challenge Lauren wasn’t sure she was ready to answer.
“Wow . . . Seattle. You really did want to go somewhere far away.”
Lauren blinked back the tears stinging her eyes. “I tried to tell you. So many times.”
His expression softened, and he nodded. “I know. I’m sorry I never really listened.”
“I’m sorry I left the way I did.”
“What did Seattle have to offer you that I didn’t?”
Lauren’s airway had closed off, and she was going to pass out and die right here and now. The question was a fair one, but it still felt like a punch in the gut. “Nothing,” she said quietly. “I don’t have a good reason for doing what I did other than I had just lost both my parents.”
“I tried to be there for you every step of the way.”
“I know. I didn’t know how to deal with all my emotions, and I felt like you were pushing me to deal with them your way.”
Lauren watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “I didn’t want to force anything,” he said, an edge in his voice. “I would’ve done anything to help you.”
“Except listen to me!” Lauren ran a hand through her hair, lowering her voice. “I was scared, and uncertain, and feeling trapped. Everywhere I turned there were memories that made me want to curl into a ball and die. I didn’t know what else to do.”
He swallowed hard, then nodded. “I didn’t realize things were so serious until you left.”
“I’m so sorry for hurting you, Tanner.” Her voice caught. “You have no idea how sorry. I handled it all wrong. But I was dying inside. I had to get away.”
“Why wasn’t I enough for you?”
“I—”
The door flew open, and two giggling girls entered the classroom, flopping into desks near the front of the room.
Tanner swallowed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Now isn’t the time or place to have this conversation.” He walked over to the students and greeted them.
Lauren ducked down, pretending to fidget with the laptop while giving herself time to compose herself. Maybe now wasn’t the time. But he’d hinted they could continue this conversation later.
Maybe they could both obtain the closure they needed to finally find some peace.
Chapter Six
SHE WAS A NATURAL TEACHER. Tanner sat in a desk at the back of the classroom, watching Lauren light up as she spoke about her experiences chasing storms. Not a single student had a cell phone out, trying to text underneath their desk.
She looked good—more than good. The filmy blouse shimmered a bit each time she moved, and he was having a hard time focusing on the slideshow instead of her. The skirt swished around her legs, and the wedge sandals catapulted him back to warm summer nights lying in the back of his truck, planning their future together.
Even after four years, the emotions she called forth in him were as strong as ever.
“This was about a year ago in southern Nebraska,” Lauren said, clicking to the next slide. The entire class gasped at the photo. Lauren was ducked down, her eyes wide and finger pointing, as a section of fence flew over her head.
Tanner gripped the edge of the desk. She’d always had a bad habit of ignoring tornado sirens in favor of standing outside to watch, but after her parents’ death, she’d taken her obsession to a whole new level. An obsession he’d thought would be long gone by now.
Lauren grinned at the gasps from the class. “I’ve got video,” she said, and clicked play.
She appeared on the edge of the screen, a microphone in her hand. “You can just see the funnel in the distance,” Video Lauren said, angling her body to point. “We’ve received confirmation that it’s an F3. Oh gosh! It’s taking out that barn.” Lauren whipped back to the camera. “Did you get that? Whoa!” The fence appeared from out of nowhere, flying toward her head. Tanner didn’t know how she even had time to duck. The screen cut to black, and the class started clapping.
She was a completely different person now from the Lauren he’d known and loved. The realization settled over him as the clapping faded, a physical weight on his heart. He’d apologized. Now he needed to truly let her go.
“That’s seriously hard core,” a guy at the front said.
Lauren blushed. “As storm chasers, we’re vigilant about safety, but there’s always a risk when you’re that close to a storm.”
“So why do you do it?” a woman asked.
Lauren ran a finger over the top of the clicker she held in one hand. Tanner leaned forward, holding his breath. Storm chasing had been the wedge in what he’d always considered a very happy relationship. He’d thought if they could just stick with their college plans and maintain a semblance of normalcy over the summer, everything would be okay. He’d wanted so desperately to protect Lauren from all the hurt, but she’d seemed unwilling to let him comfort her.
“My parents died in a tornado. Chasing storms helps me feel close to them again.” Lauren blinked, as though struggling to keep away tears, and clicked to the next slide. “There are a few different ways to track tornadoes while you’re in the middle of a chase . . .”
Tanner ran a hand through his hair, frustration pulsing through him. He’d suggested buying a bench inscribed with her parents’ names for the cemetery. That was the kind of sensible thing someone did to feel close to lost loved ones. Not risking life and limb to get a photo of the perfect funnel cloud. An intense need to help her competed with his frustration at her choices.
Lauren finished her presentation and opened it up for class discussion. The students had insightful questions, and seemed excited about the material. Tanner hoped it would be easy to get them to volunteer at the weather center after this. Lauren had been just like these students in high school, anxious to ask questions and eager to learn, even though Tanner had been the better student. Her grades had been adequate, but he had been valedictorian. He’d been the academic, and she’d been the student council member beloved by all.
Until she’d left without telling anyone. That had created quite a scandal in Sunset Plains, and he’d had to endure three entire months of the drama before he could leave for school. The constant reminders had ripped him apart.
The room went silent, and Tanner realized all his students—and Lauren—were staring at him. Had she finished talking? He glanced at his watch and realized class would be over in two minutes.
He cleared his throat and rose from the desk, walking to the front of the room and taking his place beside Lauren. Had it really been seven years since they’d first stood together at the front of a classroom, giving an oral report on weather patterns for Mrs. Olson’s class? He’d wanted to ask Lauren out so badly, but had been sure she was way out of his league, even if he was a senior. After the report, Lauren had given him a flirty smile and said, “We definitely need to celebrate getting an A. You can pick me up for dinner at seven.”
But nothing was the same now. Lauren had changed everything.
“Thank you for that great presentation,” Tanner said. To the class, he added, “Your homework is to read chapter ten in your textbook on tornadoes. We’ll have a quiz at the beginning of next class on the material.”
The class clapped for Lauren, and then the room broke up into individual conversations as students gathered their backpacks and left.
Slowly, Lauren unplugged the cords from her laptop. She glanced up at him, then
away quickly. Even after four years, he recognized the look in her eyes. The furrowed brow, pursed lips that made him want to lean forward and kiss her, uncertain eyes—she wanted to finish their earlier conversation, but Tanner wasn’t sure he was strong enough to hear what she had to say. The conversation he’d longed for suddenly seemed impossibly hard.
“Great job today,” Tanner said. “Thanks for coming. The class was really interested in what you had to say.”
“No problem. I love sharing my experiences with others.” She closed the lid on her laptop and slid it into her bag.
Tanner pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, then shoved his hands in his pockets. “Well, thanks again. I appreciate you driving down to do it.”
“Isn’t there anything else we have to say to each other?”
He swallowed hard, aching to reach out and cup her face between his hands, run a thumb over her cheek. “I wish you all the best,” he said.
Lauren took a step toward him, her keys twisting around and around in her hands. Tanner swallowed hard, taking a step back.
“I’m so sorry, Tanner. You deserve better than how I treated you.”
“I shouldn’t have assumed I knew what was best for you.”
“I’m not here to make excuses. But I do want to explain.”
“Okay. I’m listening.”
She took a deep breath. “The truth is, I don’t have a good reason for leaving. I had just lost my parents—”
He folded his arms, the anger breaking free and rising up like a summer squaller. The ache she’d left behind—the hole in his heart that kept him up at nights for a year—hadn’t been filled. He’d just grown so used to it that he almost forgot it was there. But now Lauren was standing before him, bringing it all to the surface again.
“I know you had just lost your parents,” Tanner said. “I went with you to the police station to identify their bodies. I met with the funeral director and helped you create a program. I picked their headstones, for heaven’s sake. I did everything I could to be there for you. I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just tell me you were leaving. You destroyed me.”