Storm Warning

by Dinah McCall

  Ginny offered him her glass, but he seemed to have lost his focus on liquid refreshments, so she took the jug from him and poured her own milk.

  “Cheers,” she said, and toasted thin air before taking a sip. “Ummm, good and cold. Come on, hotshot, let’s eat.”

  She sat herself down at the table and put half a sandwich on her plate, then added a handful of potato chips out of a newly opened bag beside it. When she opened her mouth to take the first bite, Sully’s concentration snapped. He unscrewed the lid to his wine cooler and took the other chair, piling two sandwich halves onto his plate and then turning the open bag toward his plate for easy access. Thrusting his hand inside, he pulled out several chips and thrust them all into his mouth in one bite.

  “Tastes good,” he said, as he chewed.

  Ginny arched an eyebrow. “That’s because I didn’t make them.”

  Sully grinned and took a bite of the sandwich. Something crunched as he chewed, which surprised him. He hadn’t seen her put anything in there but mayonnaise, meat and cheese.

  “Uh…something crunched,” he said.

  “That would be the radishes.”

  He swallowed without choking and then laid his sandwich down on his plate, curious as to how he could dissect his food without insulting her. She saved him the trouble.

  “If you don’t like them, then just take them out.”

  Sully nodded as he lifted the top slice of bread and began removing the white, red-rimmed orbs that were stuck to the mayonnaise.

  “Uh, Ginny, don’t take this wrong, but can I ask you something?”

  She nodded as she chewed.

  “I’m not saying I don’t like them. I’ve just never had them on bologna and cheese sandwiches before.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “So, uh…why do you make sandwiches this way?”

  She opened her sandwich and pointed. “It’s all about the basic food groups. Bread and meat, of course. The cheese would be dairy, as well as another form of protein, the mayonnaise is a fat, and the radishes are the vegetables. I have apples for dessert, which is a fruit. So…bread, meat, dairy, vegetable, fruit and fat. A balanced meal, right?”

  At a loss for words, he watched as she put the top back on her sandwich and took another bite. Even from where he was sitting, he could hear the faint crunch of radishes as she chewed. He looked down at the one on his plate and shrugged, then started replacing the radishes he’d taken from his own.

  “Change your mind?” she asked.

  “When in Rome,” he muttered, then took another bite and began to chew.

  Her heart gave a leap. Not once in her adult life had a man ever finished a meal that she’d made, not even her father, who had loved her most of all. Sullivan Dean didn’t know it, but his shining armor was taking on quite a glow.

  In the midst of their dessert, they were disrupted by a series of rapid knocks. Sully was on his feet and striding to the door before Ginny could move. He peered through the curtain and then looked back at her, motioning that it was all right. It was the manager, Marshall Auger.

  “Just checking to make sure everything is okay before I make a run into Wingate.”

  “Yes, we’re fine,” Sully said.

  The old man tried to peer over Sully’s shoulder but had little luck. Sully had put himself directly between Ginny and the outside world. The image of him standing tall within the doorway, feet slightly apart, hands braced against the door frame as if holding it up, made her heart skip a beat. In a fit of being hateful, she’d called him her bodyguard and not her shrink, and now it shamed her to realize that was exactly what he’d set himself up to be.

  “Well, then, I’ll just be running along. Won’t be gone more than two or three hours. If you have an emergency, there’s a pay phone just outside the office.”

  “Yes, thank you,” Sully said. “We’ll be fine.”

  “All right…see you later.”

  Sully started to close the door when the old man suddenly grabbed it, holding it ajar.

  “I almost forgot,” he said. “I was wondering, how long you planning to stay?”

  Sully frowned. “I’ll let you know,” he said, and shut the door in the old man’s face, then watched at the window until he drove away.

  He turned back to Ginny and realized she was carrying dishes into the kitchen.

  “Hey,” he said. “You cooked. I’ll do dishes.”

  “I dirtied a knife, two glasses and two plates. That’s not cooking, that’s making a mess.”

  Sully slid a finger underneath her chin, tipping her face until she was forced to meet his gaze.

  “You fed me.”

  “And you’re taking care of me.”

  Her soft words countered everything he’d been trying to balance.

  “And it’s the best damned job I’ve ever had.” Then he cupped her face and brushed his lips across her forehead.

  Ginny froze. The feel of his mouth against her skin was intoxicating. When he raised his head, there was an unmistakable look of wanting more in his eyes. To his credit and her dismay, he didn’t say what he was thinking, and the moment passed, leaving an awkward silence between them.

  “Go take a break. Read a book. Take a nap. I’m going to do these dishes, and then I’ve got a few calls to make, okay?”

  Ginny wanted to put her arms around his waist and lay her head on his chest. Instead, she nodded.

  Needing to put some distance between them, he turned away and began running water into the sink. Ginny stood there for a moment, watching the way his fingers curled around the glasses then walked out of the little room.

  By the time he was through, she was on her bed, pretending great interest in a book. Sully paused.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  She nodded without looking up.

  Once again, she’d slipped back in her shell, but not as far as before. Hoping to learn something new from Dan Howard, he stepped out on the little stoop to make some calls. As he did, he thought he saw movement in some trees on the far side of the parking area, but when he looked closer, he decided it was nothing but the flight of some birds from one tree to another. Still cautious, he watched for a while until he was confident there was nothing out of the ordinary to be seen. What he did notice was that a couple more cabins had been rented. There was a sport utility vehicle pulling a boat at one cabin and a Jeep beside another. Both were loaded with fishing gear, and even though the level of the river was going down, he couldn’t imagine the fishing being any good with it running so fast and so high. After a few minutes, five men emerged from the two cabins and began moving gear into the SUV. When they saw Sully, they waved in a friendly but distant sort of manner and then drove away, following a narrow dirt road that led behind the cabins toward the river beyond.

  Satisfied that all was well, Sully made his calls. Dan Howard had nothing new to pass on, nor did Detective Pagillia in St. Louis, although Sully did learn that they had bugged Ginny’s phones, both at home and where she worked, but had yet to come up with any useful hits. His frustration was mounting as he finally disconnected and went back inside the cabin.

  Ginny’s name was on his lips as he opened the door, but he forgot what he’d been going to say. She’d fallen asleep. The book was on the floor, and she had curled up in a ball with her feet tucked under a pillow and her hands curled beneath her chin, as if she were cold. Sully quietly closed the door and then moved to where she lay. The loneliness of his life hit him as he stood watching her sleep. What would it be like to be able to have the freedom to crawl into bed beside her and curl his body around hers like a shield—to warm her body and his soul without thoughts of consequences or anger? Instead of giving in to the urge, he pulled a blanket up over her shoulders and then walked out of the cabin while he still had the good sense to move.

  Carney was hot and tired and sick as a skunked dog, which only served to make him angrier. Freddie and Dale had dumped him out about a quarter of a mile fro
m the cabins and left him to stew in his own revenge, vowing to have nothing to do with any of it. To add insult to injury, his old man had refused him a cabin, saying he needed them free to rent. Carney had stomped out of the office and into the woods, muttering a “to hell with all of them.” He would give that big SOB at the farthest cabin something to cry about and then tell them all to kiss his ass, because he was leaving Mississippi for good. There wasn’t anything here for him but more grief. If a man couldn’t count on his family, then he couldn’t count on anyone. As for his wife, he wouldn’t care if he never saw her again. All she did was bitch at him to get a better job. Hellsfire, it wasn’t his fault that roofers didn’t work regular hours like everyone else. Their work depended on good weather, and when it rained or was too cold, it wasn’t happening.

  As he sat nursing his grudges and a sickening headache, he saw his old man come out of his house and then walk down to the far end of the row. A few minutes later he walked back, got in his car and drove away.

  Carney stood abruptly, then started grinning. After making sure that he wasn’t observed, he circled his father’s house and slipped in the back door. The house smelled of burned bacon grease and damp, musty wood, but Carney wasn’t picky. He knew where his Daddy kept his liquor, and he needed a drink. After two quick shots of Tennessee Red, he began rummaging through the refrigerator for something to eat. Settling down in the living room in Daddy’s easy chair, he picked up the remote and turned on the TV. Might as well enjoy himself until it got a little darker. He knew the old man’s routine, and chances were that he wouldn’t be back for at least two or three hours. With the cool air circulating in the small dusty room and his belly full of liquor and food, Carney leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

  When he awoke, it was almost dusk. He stretched in the recliner and scratched his head, trying to figure out what had awakened him so abruptly. At the same moment, he heard a car door slam and sat up with a thump. Daddy was home! Scrambling for the remote that had fallen into his lap, he turned off the TV and slipped out the back door as his father came in the front. Moving quickly, he headed for the trees behind the cabins and disappeared. As soon as he was certain he hadn’t been seen, he circled back through the woods until he was directly behind Ginny’s cabin and then settled down to wait. Eventually the lights would go off. After that, it was but a matter of time until he paid that woman a little visit. A feral smile crossed his face as he thought of her slim body and long legs. This time he would give her something to scream about.

  Sully’s phone rang as he was chopping vegetables for the omelet he was making. Without thinking, he yelled over his shoulder.

  “Hey, Ginny, get that, would you?” The minute the words came out of his mouth, he was running with the knife still in his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said, as he snatched the phone off the table. “I just wasn’t thinking.”

  “Don’t worry. I was,” she muttered, eyeing the cell phone as if it were a snake. She took the knife out of his hands and started into the kitchen.

  “Just chop!” Sully yelled. “I’ll finish the rest.”

  She grinned to herself as she kept on walking. He’d gotten the message real early about her cooking skills. She picked up the bell pepper he’d been slicing and resumed the task. So she couldn’t cook all that well. So what? Maybe when all this was over she would take a cooking class. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t follow a recipe; it was more like she neglected to read them in the first place. Usually she remembered what went in a dish. It was the quantity and the timing that kept throwing her off.

  Finishing the chopping, she laid the knife on the counter and rinsed off her hands. As she turned to dry, she noticed the expression on Sullivan’s face and moved closer, trying to overhear what was being said, but then he hung up. As he did, he looked up and saw her standing there.

  “What?” Ginny asked.

  Sully inhaled slowly, judging the look on her face against what he was going to tell her. Would she panic, or was it just going to be another fact to add to the confusion of what was already known?

  “I have a right to know,” Ginny said.

  “I have no intention of keeping you in the dark,” he said, and tossed the phone on the bed.

  “Then what? Was that Agent Howard?”

  “No, it was Pagillia, with the St. Louis police.” He eyed her curiously. “Did you know they’d put taps on your phone at home and the one at your desk?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, they did. Pagillia said they went into your apartment, plugged the phone back into the jack and turned the answering machine on. There have been fourteen calls in the past couple of days, and all of them were hang-ups.”

  Ginny shivered and impulsively wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Could they trace them?”

  “No.”

  “I can’t believe in this day and age there’s not a way to at least figure out where the calls are coming from.”

  “Pagillia said something about a block on the other end of the line. However, they could confirm that it was an out-of-state call.”

  Ginny dropped to the corner of the bed. Sully put his hand on the top of her head.

  “You all right?” he asked softly.

  She sighed, then looked up and nodded.

  “Is there anything I can do for you?” Sully asked, wishing he could make the despair in her eyes disappear.

  She made herself smile. “Feed me?”

  “Only if you keep me company.”

  He held out his hand, waiting. She slipped her hand into his, absorbing his strength as his fingers curled around her wrist and gave her a tug off the bed.

  A few minutes later he turned a perfect omelette out onto her plate and then began making one for himself.

  “Don’t wait for me,” he said. “It’ll get cold.”

  She picked up her fork and dug in, sighing with appreciation as the flavor of egg and melting cheese lingered on her tongue. The sauteed vegetables inside were done to perfection, as were the toast points he’d made to go with it.

  “You know, if you ever decide to quit Uncle Sam, you could open your own restaurant. You’re really good.”

  Sully turned, the spatula still in his hand. “I’m good at a lot of things, Virginia.”

  She gaped, her mind whirling with all the possibilities that remark had resurrected. Sully winked as he turned back to his task, calmly flipped the omelette over the filling and slid it out onto his plate.

  He slid into the seat and picked up his fork, then gave her an innocent smile.

  “What? You already full?”

  She glared and then pointed at him with her fork.

  “Don’t play fast and loose with me, mister. I’ve heard it all.”

  Sully grinned and then took a big bite, rolling his eyes in mock appreciation as he chewed.

  Ginny’s impulse was to dump her food in his lap, but she was too hungry to give it up, so she settled for a second glare and then began to eat.

  They finished the meal in relative silence. It wasn’t until they were cleaning the dishes that Sully dropped another bomb.

  “Tell me about Yellowstone,” he said. “What was your favorite part?”

  Ginny stilled, her hands still in the dishwater, then, slowly, she turned and looked at him.

  “How did you know I’d been to Yellowstone?”

  “Saw the picture in your apartment.”

  “You’ve been in my apartment?”

  The indignation in her voice was noticeable.

  “I was looking for you, remember?”

  “But why—”

  Sully’s hand encircled her wrist and gave it a gentle tug.

  “Virginia, you don’t understand. When you didn’t answer the doorbell, I was afraid.” He looked away, remembering, then shook his head, as if ridding himself of the fear that he’d felt. “I couldn’t go to a hotel without knowing if you were all right, okay?”

  “Oh. Right.”<
br />
  “So, about Yellowstone?”

  Ginny sighed. “It seems like a lifetime ago. Mom and Dad were killed later that same year, just before Christmas.”

  “I’m sorry. How did it happen?”

  Old anger welled inside her. “It was so preventable. Carbon monoxide leak from the heating unit in their house. They died in their sleep.”

  There wasn’t anything to say, so Sully just let her talk.

  “We’d had so much fun that summer. It was the first time in years that we’d done anything together…like a family, I mean. We spent two weeks at the lodge in Yellowstone and made plans to go back the next year.” She shrugged and then looked at him, for the first time meeting his gaze straight on. “But you know what they say about the best laid plans. Anyway, I have that picture to remember it by, and that’s my favorite thing.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sully said, and opened his arms. “Feel like a hug?”

  Her chin quivered once, and then she nodded.

  The only way Ginny could have described being in Sullivan’s arms was to say he enfolded her. The strength of his body and the powerful beat of his heart beneath her cheek were the bulwark between herself and defeat. They stood without speaking, each settling into the feeling of being so close and wondering what it would be like to take the hug a step further.

  As they stood, Sully suddenly jerked. Gripping Ginny’s arms, he pushed her back. “Son of a—! I can’t believe I forgot.”

  “Forgot what?” Ginny asked.

  “The yearbook!” Sully said. “Some Fed I am. I completely forgot about Georgia’s yearbook being in the car.”

  “What yearbook?”

  “A yearbook from Montgomery Academy.”

  Ginny’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh my God! I don’t think I ever knew there was one.”

  “It was in Georgia’s things at the convent. Apparently she’d asked her mother to send it to her. She died before it arrived.”

  “Are we in it?” she asked. “I mean…are you sure it’s not one from before? You know, the school burned down before that year was over.”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I saw you.” He tweaked a lock of her hair. “Pretty darn cute, if you like the no-teeth grin.”