Dream of Me (Harmony Falls, Book 1)

by Gaelen Foley

  “Hey, I’m alive!” Bea announced, just as Reggie finished bandaging up the fisherman.

  Her friend shot to her feet, relief flooding her tense face. “Oh, thank God.”

  Bea rushed over and gave her a quick, hard hug. But Regina’s rare display of vulnerable emotion ended quickly. She stepped back and ran an assessing glance over Bea, taking in her rain-plastered hair and muddy clothes.

  “I’m fine,” Bea assured her. “Not a scratch.”

  Reg let out a large exhale and then arched a brow. “Well, you look like shit,” she said.

  Bea laughed, startled, and then hugged her again. “Oh, I love you.” Reg’s usual irreverence helped instantly restore at least some sense of normality.

  “Get off me. I’m busy,” Reg muttered, affectionately pushing away Bea’s hug. She stepped back and started tidying up the items in her first-aid kit. “So, Miss Mud Queen, looks like our Cinderella has turned back into a pumpkin. Hey, how did it go last night? Did you and Porsche Guy do the nasty?” She waggled her eyebrows as she efficiently wound up an unused bandage.

  Bea was taken aback at how Reg took the crisis in stride. Was this some EMT trick, to get people talking about regular things?

  “Hello?” Reg prompted.

  “Ugh. No, the date ended in disaster. We got into a big fight.”

  “Are you serious? Oh my God, that dress really does have bad juju. I’m so sorry. I feel responsible. Not really. You have to tell me all about it later.”

  Bea nodded. “Hey, he’s here if you want to check him out,” she added in a whisper, glancing furtively over her shoulder.

  Reggie’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Definitely. But first, tell me—do we hate him?”

  “No.” Bea heaved a sigh. “He just got me through the friggin’ twister. He might’ve saved my life again—or I saved his. It’s hard to say. But get this.” Bea bit her lip. “His Porsche ended up in a tree.”

  Reg was pretty unshockable, but she lifted both eyebrows at that, absorbing it for a second with a flash of mirth in her hazel eyes. “All righty, then,” she said, then gripped Bea’s forearm. “Show him to your fairy godmother, and I’ll tell you if he’s prince or toad.”

  “Maybe a little of both,” Bea mumbled.

  “Aren’t they all,” Reg answered with a sigh. But before leaving the deck, the paramedic turned to give her patient a stern warning to stay seated and drink his orange juice. The guy looked a little freaked out.

  “What happened to him?” Bea asked in a low tone as they hurried inside.

  “Gash on the arm,” Reg reported. “Sharp piece of debris in the river struck him.”

  “He was in the river?”

  “Hanging on to a rock for dear life.” Reg rolled her eyes. “He and his idiot pal were fishing. Didn’t have the sense to get out of the water when it started rising. Before they knew it, they were stranded out on some boulders in the middle of the current. Lucky for them, we’ve got Finn on river rescue.”

  Bea glanced at her in alarm. “Is that wise?”

  “Of course not. But you know him. He’s loving it, the crazy man.”

  Bea shrugged off Finn’s particular breed of wild. “Has anyone heard from Chloe?”

  “She popped over here a little while ago to let us know she was okay after Mike showed up on her doorstep in a panic. She was at home getting ready to go teach a yoga class—obviously, that’s canceled. But she’ll be back. She’s out knocking on doors to check on some of the elderly folks around town who live alone. I gave her one of my extra walkie-talkies to call me if anyone needs medical attention.”

  “And Jules?”

  “At the library—which was thankfully untouched. Of course, it was story time, so she’s got a bunch of scared little kids to take care of until all their parents pick them up.” Reg snickered. “Better her than me.”

  Warm and fuzzy she was not. But those cool nerves made her great in an emergency.

  “And Zander? God, I hope he wasn’t up in the helicopter—”

  “No, Mr. Cool was having a jam session on his guitar. Had his headphones on. Didn’t even hear the damn tornado.”

  Bea chuckled in relief. “Figures.”

  “He’s doing a flyover now to help assess the damage. Mike said Hooper Bridge is out.”

  “Yeah, we saw it,” Bea replied. “Sad. Have there been any deaths? Serious injuries?”

  “Miraculously, no. I haven’t seen anything too bad yet. We just have to hope everybody has the sense to stay away from downed wires. Oh, I will tell you all the homes down on the Flats are flooded, though. It’s pretty ugly down there, damage-wise, but everyone got out, as far as I’ve been told.”

  Bea said a silent prayer for the people who lived there, trying not to think too much of how her own home had fared quite yet. She would very soon find out. Then she elbowed Reg and discreetly pointed out Harry talking to Jack.

  Her friend inspected him, then gave Bea the raised eyebrow seal of approval. Just as she was about to take her over to introduce then, Finn strode up the wooden stairs and crossed the deck like Neptune emerging from the sea, bare-chested and soaking wet, wearing a paddling helmet, and loosening his life vest.

  “Comrades!” he announced in an electric, booming voice as he entered the pub, lifting his fists, “I have survived!”

  A grin flashed across Reggie’s face. “Don’t get too comfortable, babe. You’re needed down at the Flats next.”

  “On it.” He winked at her, taking off his helmet and slicking back his hair, and for one fleeting second, it was as though Reg forgot there was anyone else in the room.

  Then a small crowd formed around Finn to get all the details on his latest death-defying feat. Reg inhaled sharply through her nostrils and turned away. “Lunatic,” she murmured. “You know, I have nightmares about the call I’m going to get someday. I’ll get there, and it’ll be him. And I’m the one that’s got to scrape him up off the pavement and put him back together. To me, it’s not an if, it’s more a when.” Reg blinked out of her trance, and tore her stare away from Patrick.

  Startled, Bea couldn’t tell if she was joking or not, but Reg dismissed the strange topic. Then they hurried over to Jack and Harry, and Bea quickly did the introductions.

  “Looks like Harry New Guy will be with us for a while,” Jack said with a sardonic glance at him. “Welcome to Harmony Falls, pal. We hope you enjoy your extended stay.”

  Harry smiled ruefully. “Guess I better get my room back at the inn.”

  “Ooh, that could be a problem,” Reg said. “Half the roof’s off.”

  “Oh my God. Really?” Bea exclaimed. “Is Sharon okay?”

  “Yeah, most of the rooms were empty, thank God, since it’s Tuesday. The weekend crowd is long gone. But—get this. Once the twister was spotted, Mike put out an emergency alert. Apparently, Sharon went running around evacuating the guests down to the lobby. Good thing, too.” Reg shrugged. “Guess that roof was getting old.”

  “Go Sharon,” Harry murmured.

  “Right?” Reggie said. “Who knew she had it in her?”

  “Well, since you’re stuck here,” Jack told Harry, “Finn’s guys are setting up cots at the adventure center for anyone needing shelter. He’s got a big indoor rock-climbing facility there—like a huge gym. Plenty of space, if you need somewhere to crash.”

  “Nonsense, he’ll stay at the farm with me,” Bea said, turning to Harry. “If he wants to, that is. And if I still have a house.” She grimaced, her dread returning. “So nobody’s heard anything from my grandparents yet?”

  “I’m sure they’re fine,” Jack said in a steadying tone of command. “They’ve weathered plenty of storms before.”

  Yeah, well, so did Hooper Bridge, she thought. But she appreciated the big guy’s reassurance anyway.

  She was on the verge of selfishly asking Reg to come with her to the farm in case anyone there had been hurt. But before she could speak up, the paramedic’s walkie-talkie clicked to life, and
a crackly male voice summoned her ambulance to an address north of town with some kind of coded alert.

  All business, the medic turned away, plugging one ear and lifting her walkie-talkie to the other to hear better over the pub noise. “This is RRU three. Repeat, please? Over.”

  It was time for them all to get on with it.

  Bea nudged Harry. “Ready?”

  He nodded, studying her with concern. “You want me to drive?”

  “No, I’m okay.” She drew in a deep breath, taking courage from stolid Jack, fearless Finn, and feisty Reggie—who said, “Roger that. On my way.”

  Reg put her baseball cap back on, returning to them briefly. “Jack, give that guy I just bandaged a shot of vodka or something in his OJ if he doesn’t stop freaking himself out soon. He looked like he was ready to have a fuckin’ panic attack. Other than that, he’s fine. I gotta go.”

  “No problem,” Jack answered. “What’s up?”

  “Tree fell on a house. Hit the teenager’s bedroom. Kid was in bed, sleeping, and part of the ceiling caved in. The mother thinks he’s got a broken leg.”

  Jack frowned. “Sounds serious. You need any extra hands? I can send a few guys with chainsaws to follow the ambulance. They could start removing the tree if it’s blocking access.”

  “Nah, they’ll just be in the way for now. Besides, I’ve got the fire department hotties on the way. Woo hoo!”

  “Can I come with you?” Bea joked.

  “Heh. See ya, girlfriend.” Before marching out the door, Reggie paused, laid a hand on Bea’s shoulder, and gave her a bolstering stare. “Courage, sister,” she said quietly, knowing Bea would have to go and face the farm.

  Then, without another word, Reg strode off to do her duty.

  “Yo, Jack! Where’s she going?” Finn yelled from across the bar, noting Reg’s exit.

  “On a call!” Jack boomed in reply. “A tree fell on some house.”

  “Whose?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged his huge shoulders.

  “Hey, Jack, could we get your opinion on something?” someone called from over by the bar.

  Jack waved to indicate he was on his way, but he laid a hand on Bea’s shoulder before he left her side. “Good luck, kid,” the marine said kindly. “Come back later if you can. Keep us in the loop.”

  “Do my best,” Bea said, then Jack prowled off to see what the next group needed.

  Satisfied that all her friends had been accounted for, Bea turned to Harry. It was time to face the farm. His dark blue eyes flickered with understanding; he pressed his hand gently to the small of her back and guided her outside.

  They jumped into her truck, then rode in silence for what felt like the longest three miles of her life.

  When they finally turned in at the farm, Bea’s stomach was churning at what she might find.

  She crossed the bridge over the stream with her tires half submerged. What had been a trickle down the hillside after a typical summer rain was now a gushing creek coming from the high fields.

  Seeing that, she felt panic start to rise right along with the waterline, fearing the worst for her crops, the farmhouse. As they rounded the bend, she was relieved to see the house was still there, and her orchards looked more or less intact.

  “No trees down.” Harry sounded encouraged despite the fact that many of the fruits had been swept off their branches.

  The cows were grazing again as though nothing had happened, but Bea was too anxious to see her grandparents to count the herd and make sure they were all there yet. They seemed okay, so she drove on.

  One glance at the house eased the worst burden from her heart. It looked fine. She drove on, her hope rising, but still scanning the property, her cautious relief was suddenly shattered.

  She slammed on the brakes and the truck creaked to a jarring halt.

  “No, no, no!” she cried into the palm of one hand. “My greenhouse!”

  The structure that had housed her prized peppers and tomatoes, that she’d worked so hard to get, had spent her savings toward, her backup plan in case of bad weather, had crumpled. Its steel frame was bent, collapsed at the western corner. Part of the tunnel, once enveloped in uniform sheets of corrugated plastic, lay in a disheveled heap.

  Fragments of plastic were strewn about; those sheets that hadn’t fallen looked like someone had taken a shotgun and unloaded several boxes of buckshot on them. They were Swiss cheese.

  “The hail,” Harry said. He reached over, put his hand on her shoulder, squeezed, kept it there. “Oh, Bea, I’m sorry.”

  She hyperventilated into her hands, frozen for a moment. But then she pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes and steeled herself. “My grandparents. We need to find them.” She threw the truck back into gear and sped toward the house, leaving the keys in the ignition once she’d parked.

  She scrambled out, heading for the house, and sobbed with half-hysterical relief when Colby and Dodd, the tired old Labs, came limping toward them, just as they always did.

  Streaks of dirt on their backs suggested the wise old dogs had hidden under the porch when the storm came. Bea patted their heads as she passed, running on toward the house. “Hello? Where is everybody?” she yelled, charging up the front porch steps.

  Just then, the kitchen screen door swung open, and Gram rejoiced as she held it for Bea. “Oh, sweetie!” she exclaimed in relief.

  Bea grasped her grandmother’s shoulders, looking her over frantically. “You’re okay? You’re both okay?” Bea cried as Pap ambled up behind Gram.

  “We’re fine, Honey-Bea,” Grandma Jean assured her.

  Bea hugged them both tighter than she ever had before.

  “And the boys?” she said. “Please tell me they weren’t in the fields.”

  “Everyone’s inside. We’re safe, honey,” Gram said. “And you are, too.”

  Bea let out a sigh of profound relief and hung in their arms for a long moment, still trembling.

  “You’re about to get dripped on, Honey-Bea,” Pap warned, interrupting their heartfelt embrace.

  Bea looked up to realize both of her grandparents had been holding Popsicles the whole time. She hadn’t even noticed until now. Pap took a long slurp of his to stop it from melting onto Bea’s hair.

  Confused by the apparent serenity of the household, she stepped inside, in a daze.

  Harry followed politely.

  “Well, hello again, young man.”

  “Mrs. Palmer. Sir. It’s a big relief to see you both safe.”

  “That’s why we got a storm cellar,” Pap said with a shrug. “This girl had us worried, though,” he added, waving his Popsicle toward Bea.

  Inside, Lance and the other wiry young skater dudes were there too, crowded around the kitchen table, grinning and chatting as they licked and slurped their own frozen treats.

  “Whoa, she’s back! Hey, Miz Bea.”

  “Did you see the tornado? Dude, we were freaking out.”

  “Totally intense. That was awesome,” they said, like a bunch of mini-Finns.

  “Have a Popsicle, you two,” Gram said, opening up the freezer door. “You might as well. They’re melting. Power’s out. Everything’s gonna spoil if we don’t eat it. So here,” she said, holding up a softening lime-flavored, double-stick pop.

  Bea took it, numb. She peeled off the wrapper, carefully split the two, handed one to Harry.

  He accepted and looked at her as though he, too, found this whole day surreal.

  Bea stared at her Popsicle for a long moment, though. “I’m too nauseated to eat this,” she finally said, handing it to Lance, who was happy to have another one.

  Bea turned to her grandparents, to Harry, to the kids. “So, we’re all safe,” she said, finally starting to believe it herself. “We all just survived…a tornado.”

  Harry laughed, shaking his head as the reality started sinking in for him, too. The boys high-fived and wooted, but Gram closed her eyes and whispered, “Praise the Lord.”

/>   “Bad news, though, Honey-Bea,” Pap grumbled.

  “The greenhouse.” She nodded. “I saw it.” Holding back tears, she shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re all okay, and that’s what’s important. We’ll figure something out.” She had to tell herself that now, at least until she got a better sense of the severity of the damage. “Did anyone count the cows?”

  “They’re all there,” Pap said. “Boys helped me get all your chickens in the barn, too, when the wind started gusting. When I seen that yellow sky, I knew.”

  She gazed at her grandfather, doting on the sight of him.

  Gram bustled around the kitchen. “I had Lance use his phone to try sending you one of those text thingies to warn you that funnel cloud was coming. But I guess, like you said, the messages don’t make it down into that valley.”

  “Told you she’d be fine,” Pap said to his wife.

  Bea leaned against the counter. “The farm stand didn’t make it, though. It’s only good for kindling now.”

  Pap sighed.

  “Don’t worry, Miz Bea,” Lance said. “We’ll help you build a new one.”

  “Yeah, no prob.”

  “Thanks, dudes,” she said with a lump in her throat.

  Then Harry stepped outside to help Pap go around collecting the porch furniture that had been strewn about the drive, setting it back where it belonged. Still shaky-kneed, Bea sat down with the boys. She listened, feeling shell-shocked, as the teenagers described frantically chasing down and gathering up the chickens amidst the treacherous wind. They had locked the poultry safely in the barn with the sheep and horses; the cows they’d shoved into the milking shed.

  The dogs, they said, had almost refused to come out from their hiding place underneath the porch, terrifying the boys that they wouldn’t be able to save Colby and Dodd from the storm. But then Gram had thought of bribing the pair out with slices of ham. It worked, then they’d taken the Labs down into the storm cellar with them, everyone huddling underground, listening to the shutters flap, the wind howl, the power lines slap about.

  Somehow the old, solid farmhouse had withstood the onslaught and remained miraculously intact.