Tough Enough to Tango

by Barbara Barrett

  He considered. “We could probably make it to one of our cars, but we’ll be saturated. The way the rain is pummeling the tent, I suspect the dirt roads out of here will soon be mud.” Then he noted the streams of water that gushed under the tent. Before long, the ground would be a swamp.

  Another gust of wind took its vengeance on the tent, actually ripped up one corner.

  “We’ve got to get out of here. My car’s closer than yours.” He gathered the papers and shoved them into his valise.

  “Wait! How about the mobile office instead? The company trailer? It’s closer than our cars. Who knows how far we’d get in them anyhow.”

  Her suggestion made sense. “Okay, we’ll head there. At least it’ll have a dry floor.”

  “And the dry clothes Dave keeps there for emergencies.”

  He clutched his case under his arm and reached for her hand with his other. “Ready?”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Ten

  Shae and Ned spilled into the front part of the dark vehicle, banged the door to shut out the menacing wind and driving rain. The gloom of semi-darkness and the moldy smell of rotten food and aged paper greeted them.

  Shae fumbled around the wall near the door to find the light switch. She panted, exhausted from her flight through the growing muck outside. She bent to catch her breath, then straightened, slapped rivulets of water off her jacket. “I’ll check the bathroom for towels. I’m drenched and freezing.” She headed down a small hallway to the left.

  “Dry clothes, too,” Ned called. “Early summer, and it’s like—” He didn’t—couldn’t—finish, as a fit of coughing overtook him.

  She came right back. “You okay?”

  He waved her off, though his hacking continued.

  “Sure?”

  “Go!”

  Ugh! Wrong time to play tough guy, Ned.

  In the miniscule bathroom, she grabbed towels, then seized what dry clothes she could find from a closet tucked into the hallway. “Only found two of these,” she said as she returned to the front office. She threw one of the towels to him.

  She held up a small bundle she clutched under her other arm. “Dave’s knit pullover and jeans. Here, you take them. With that cough, you need them more than I.” She undid her ponytail, which already hung by its life, and toweled off her matted hair.

  Stifling another cough, Ned returned the clothes to her. “You take them.”

  “What’ll you do?”

  “Any blankets or sheets back there?”

  “Two in the closet. Probably more on the bed in the back room.”

  “Then I’ll wrap myself in those,” cough, cough, “while my clothes dry.”

  “We’ll split the difference. Give me the top, you keep the pants, and we’ll both wrap up with blankets.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Ned’s cough alarmed her. Had his throat problem returned? If it had, he certainly hadn’t wanted to discuss it, so she’d back off. For now.

  Heavy sheets of rain drummed the top of the trailer like giants working out. The rain had already become a deluge of major proportions before the fireworks even got to them. Would the trailer stay anchored if the ground got too muddy? She pictured them floating away in their modern-day ark.

  Put it out of your mind. You’ve got to shed these wet clothes.

  Five minutes later—after Shae used the bathroom and Ned the front part of the trailer to get rid of their soggy duds, lay them out to dry, and don their dry ensembles—they turned their attention to the next order of business: food.

  Shae checked out the desk drawers. “Surely Dave has something edible stashed in here.”

  “Like a steak dinner?”

  She pulled out a box. “Would you consider peanut butter and crackers instead?”

  “That’s good. For starters.”

  Next, she brought out a plastic sandwich bag, contents unknown. “This is the only other possibility I see, but don’t get excited. It’s gray underneath.” She gave the package a cautionary sniff and flipped it into the wastebasket. “Eeuw! Forget this.”

  “Is there at least running water in the bathroom sink?” As if in afterthought, he added, “Is there even a bathroom sink?”

  “Yes. And”—she riffled through one of the drawers she’d just inspected and withdrew a package of paper cups—“we even have something to drink it with.”

  “No coffeemaker?”

  “Dave usually brings either a thermos from home or buys the expensive stuff.”

  “So. We have a box of peanut butter and cracker sandwiches.”

  “Three apiece.”

  “And unlimited water.”

  “As long as the contents of the water tank hold up.”

  He grabbed two cups from the package and headed to the back. He returned a minute later and offered her one. “Cocktail?”

  “Is it that time already?” She checked her watch. “Oh, my God! It’s almost seven. No wonder I’m hungry.”

  He pointed to the box of snacks. “Time for our first course.”

  With the blanket folded tight around her, she sat in the desk chair and opened the first cracker sandwich. Ned remained by the hallway.

  She took a few swigs of water. “Umm. Hits the spot.”

  “Want more?” he asked over his shoulder as he returned to the bathroom.

  “Not yet.”

  His attentiveness threw her. A few hours ago, when she confronted him about the bids, he’d been defensive, obstinate, secretive. But ever since they’d taken up residence in this trailer, he’d been nothing but considerate and helpful.

  With his second cup of water in tow, he said, “Guess I’ll give one of these crackers a try.” He took a bite, chewed and then set the remains back on the desk.

  “I’d forgotten how good these can be. Haven’t had one since,” she thought back, “the times I’d come to visit Dad at his office when I was a kid. He’d put his work aside and snack along with me.”

  “How about your brother?”

  “Sean got more of what little time Dad gave us. They hunted, fished. Even bowled.”

  “That bother you?”

  “I adored my brother. Thought he could do anything. But the amount of time Dad spent with him hurt. I tried to fit in by doing the same things. Became a bit of a tomboy.”

  “That why you went into civil engineering?”

  “No. I’d grown out of that phase by the time I was a teenager. I changed my major from accounting to civil engineering after Sean’s death.”

  Ned rose, picked up her cup along with his and wandered back to the bathroom for another refill. When he returned, he picked up her story where she’d left off. “So you never planned to be a general contractor?”

  She offered a sort of chortle. “Me? I was a girl. Girls weren’t expected to head construction businesses. That had been drummed into my brain since I was little. They tolerated my tomboy antics, but it was clear Sean was Dad’s golden boy, his heir apparent.”

  “What about after your brother’s death?”

  “He never said so, but it was like Dad resented me for still being alive. He spent even more time away from home.”

  “Think that may have been the start of his heart problems?”

  She angled her head. “I hadn’t made that connection. Anyway, I was a college sophomore at the time and thought I could help bring him out of his grief if he knew I had changed my major so I could take Sean’s place someday.”

  “And?”

  She held up her palms. “I’m here, right?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “We both know I’m only here because Dad was desperate. Desperate enough to put me in charge while he recuperates to keep me from taking the job in Dallas and reassure you a Harriman was still in charge of the company.”

  Her chest tightened as she realized how much he now knew about her. She wasn’t one to share so much about herself, but confined here in this trailer in the middle of
a storm, information flowed from her tongue as readily as the torrents of rain fell to earth outside. Time to change the topic.

  “For dessert, I’ll split the candy bar in my purse with you as soon as I figure out where I put the thing.” She waddled about the trailer in her blanket cocoon to search. But after a few futile minutes, she had to admit, “My purse isn’t here. I must have left it in your tent. Besides the candy bar, my phone was in it.” A chill iced through her as the impact of her discovery dawned. No purse, no phone, very little food. They could be stuck here all night, if the storm kept up. Even if the rain stopped, their cars might get stuck in the mud. Just the two of them. Confined in this tiny trailer alone…together.

  “Hey, it’s not the end of the world. There’s not a living soul out there to steal it. I doubt any of the night critters will be out and about this evening, either.”

  Shae blew out a breath, attempted to calm the feeling of vulnerability that engulfed her. No one but you and me, Ned. “I need to let Dave know where we are.”

  “I’ll call him. Should probably let Mike know where I am, too.” He pulled his cell from his valise. “Damn! Battery’s dead.” He rooted through his briefcase for a few seconds. Shortly, he retrieved the charger. “Ta-da! Where’s an outlet?”

  “Good question.” She scanned the small office until she discovered a plug-in along a wall strip hidden by the side of the desk. “How long do you think the storm will keep up?”

  “Hard to tell.”

  “Even if it stops, we’ll probably be here all night, won’t we?”

  Ned blinked, like this was news. “I thought we could make a run for it.”

  “We could try. But until the ground dries, I don’t know whether our cars will make it through. Even if we could get to the highway, there’s no telling if we’d run into downed trees and power lines.”

  “So we’re here for a while?”

  “Better than being out there. Besides, our clothes need to dry, unless you want to ramble around the countryside in that get-up.”

  He slumped back in his chair. “It’s not that I don’t like the company. You’ve been a real sport. I’m concerned about the delay in construction this storm could cause.”

  “Actually, the water in the excavated holes could work to our advantage. It will settle the dirt and put moisture under the concrete, once it’s poured, so it will cure harder although slower.”

  “Go ahead and say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “Remind me we might have gotten in the foundation for my mother’s house today, at least the footings, if we’d had the pans.”

  “I’m tempted, but since it appears we’re sharing each other’s company the next several hours, I’ll let it drop.”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he opened his blanket and used it to fan his chest several times and reveal tight pecs and a six-pack, which she’d only suspected existed. Only then was the point driven home to her she was entirely alone with this exacerbating, exciting man for the next several hours. Alone and half naked.

  “What’s with this place?” he asked. “It’s like an inferno.”

  She pulled at the neck of her shirt. Did that explain the sudden flash of heat that had zapped her? “Residual heat probably builds up in these tight quarters. We were too chilled to notice at first. It’s almost summer, though you’d never know it today.”

  He rose. “Does this thing have AC?”

  “Both AC and heat. I think I saw the controls in the hallway.”

  Ned set off toward the back of the trailer yet again, returned shortly with more water. He cocked his head, as if he listened for something. And shortly, that something, the AC system, kicked in.

  He sipped his water and then let the blanket slide to the floor. “You mind? I feel like a furnace in this.”

  “Uh, no,” she croaked. He was hot? Did he have any idea what his exposed chest did to her? In college, she’d let her roommate talk her into going to a male strip club once. Just once. She hadn’t been able to take a full breath then any better than now.

  Another burst of light outside. She counted the seconds before the roll of thunder. Less than the last time. The storm was almost upon them.

  The lights flickered and then went off.

  She waited for them to come back on, but they didn’t. As each second passed, a living rigor mortis immobilized her. No, no, no! Not now. She’d successfully kept her problem under wraps since the storm began.

  “Shae? You okay over there?”

  Had he picked up on her fears? That her old nemesis had seized her. “I’m fine. How about you?”

  “Didn’t expect to lose the lights. Spilled water on my blanket. Geez, it’s really dark in here in between streaks of lightning. Does this place have its own generator or did they just stretch a power line over here?”

  The rumbling outside increased along with ever more constant flickers of light. A loud boom nearly punctured her eardrums.

  Shae sat pinned to the chair gripping her arms. The darkness that surrounded them unnerved her, but the frequent shafts of light also made her crazy. All the old fears took over. No! Go away. I’m stronger than I was as a child. You’re not going to win this time.

  “Shae? The generator?”

  She forced herself to answer. “Somewhere outside. Don’t know where.”

  “It’ll have to wait then. I’m not going out there in this downpour unless absolutely necessary. Guess we won’t cool off after all.”

  She no longer noticed the heat. The minute the lights had gone out, ice permeated her veins.

  She heard a faint rustling nearby, then a click and more rustling. Ned was in his briefcase again.

  Suddenly, a tiny beam of light appeared, aimed directly at her. She screamed.

  “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. I remembered the penlight I always carry with me.”

  She bent her head and tried to steady her breathing. When she felt she could speak again, she said, “Aim it away from me.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure. Your voice sounds funny. Kinda stiff. Are you okay?”

  “I’m, uh, no big fan of storms.”

  “Scared of them?”

  She so didn’t want to get into this. But there didn’t seem to be any way to avoid talk of it, as long as the lights remained out. “Uh. Yes. When…dark.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me before now?”

  “I, uh, thought I, uh, could keep things under control. That damned penlight. Threw me.” Men and their toys.

  “What can I do?”

  Well, duh. “Turn it off.”

  The light went out. “Better? I’ll just use it as needed. Need to save the battery anyhow.”

  “Talk.”

  “Okay?”

  “During storms…Sean would…read to me. Motocross…or racing. Subject…not important.”

  That little morsel of information filled in a few more gaps. Frightened little girls should have a mom or a dad to comfort them and soothe away their fears. At least Shae had her brother. Though motocross and racing were a far cry from dolls. “Interesting nursery tales.”

  “And…you?”

  “I hid under my bed when storms really got bad. As for reading material, my parents were more into picture books. Two artists with a non-artistic son. I’d make up my own stories to go with the pictures.”

  “Start of…song writing?”

  Her speech seemed to be on the mend, although it still sounded stilted. Funny how one could pick up on those things when in near darkness. “I was into music as far back as I can remember. Piano. Guitar. Singing. Song writing came later.”

  “Did you…want to be…megastar?”

  He flicked on the penlight again, this time focused it on his face. “See this? No cocky smile. No dreamy expression. Just me being serious.” He wanted her to know he hadn’t gone into the business for the money. At least not then.

  She didn’t reply.

  “I wanted nothing more in my life than my music. Went
to Europe right after college and indulged myself. No thought for the parents who’d struggled to pay my tuition. Nor the slightest notion I’d never see one of them again.” Even now, as the words tumbled out, it hurt to admit what a jerk he’d been.

  “Sure…they understood.”

  “That’s the problem. They always understood. All they wanted was the best for me. I couldn’t take it.”

  “You? Rebellious?”

  Rebellious? He’d never thought of himself as such. More like thoughtless and unappreciative. “Not in the typical way—you know, drugs, alcohol, life in the fast lane. No, my poison was withdrawal. From them.”

  “Strange, isn’t it? How I would have given nothing more than to have my dad notice me and you—”

  “Shunned my parents’ attention. I was a real turd. Didn’t even make it back to see my dad in the hospital before he died.” Probably the lowest time in his life. Or was that the day he left for California and had to face that brave look in his mother’s eyes?

  God, had he really said that? Out loud? He’d told her more than he ever intended. Seemed easy to do in the dark, where she couldn’t see his expression, nor he hers. But that was enough. If he kept on, who knew? He might tell her more about the extent of his financial problems. Hell, he’d already revealed more than he should have.

  He turned the penlight on his wrist. “Eight-thirty. Seems later.”

  “Tired?”

  “Yes. No. Hard to say. As much as I’ve enjoyed our game of ‘Getting to Know You,’ as I’ve sat here in the dark, I’ve lost my sense of equilibrium. I’m worn out compensating for loss of sight. I can still see, but just dark and less dark.”

  She added, “I know what you mean. It’s not like we can play cards.”

  “Or drink.” Other than water.

  “We can’t even play a radio.”

  His stomach gurgled, reminded him one bite of a cracker sandwich and four cups of water did not a nutritious meal make. The cracker’s hard, salty surface didn’t mix with a throat on fire. He’d nearly gagged on that first bite. He considered offering Shae the rest, but he didn’t want her to know the rain and cold had seized his throat again.