John looked down at her. “I wonder if we should move into the cellar.”
Maddy hated her cellar more than thunderstorms. “I think I’d rather sit on the porch.”
John managed a laugh. “We’ll give it a few minutes, but if it gets worse…”
Maddy rolled her eyes and adjusted her position. She was glad to have John to lean against, but he had nothing but the hard, stone fireplace. “I’m sorry I don’t have any furniture,” her voice was barely audible. “This is probably a bad time to ask you to help me move that couch in?”
John covered her face with one of the blankets.
“So, ‘no’?” came the muffled reply.
Burt, lying in a wet heap nearby, began to whine. John pulled the blanket off Maddy’s head, and she looked up at him with a grin as he pushed the hair out of her face.
“You’re a mess,” he said affectionately, pulling her close.
The storm raged around them, and the room was now dark, except for the candles that Maddy had lit. The setting was not terribly comfortable, but decidedly intimate. After a few minutes, John reluctantly pulled away and looked down at Maddy, bundled like a little cocoon next to him.
“I’m going to check the windows upstairs,” he said, sliding the blanket off and tucking it in around her. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’m going with you,” Maddy scrambled up after him, half in concern for her house, and half in determination not to be left alone. She grabbed a candle as she got to her feet.
John took the flashlight in one hand and her hand in the other. They walked slowly up the kitchen staircase, Maddy limping and favoring her left foot. John stopped and looked back at her.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. My feet are a little sore,” she replied. “I think I’ll go rinse them off in the bathroom.”
“Good idea,” he said, walking with her into her room.
The lightning flashed, and the windows gave them a panoramic view of the storm. Maddy hurried into the bathroom, and John followed, setting the flashlight down and starting the water for her.
Maddy laughed nervously. “I think I can handle it from here. Why don’t you go do the dangerous thing, and check the windows?” She climbed onto the edge of the tub and let her feet run under the warm water while John picked up the flashlight and left the room.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised.
Maddy quickly finished her task; something about running the water during the storm made her nervous. Pulling a towel from the rack, she dried off her body as well as she could, and then took the towel to her head. Her curls generally did not respond well to such treatment, and she stepped gingerly out of the tub to get her brush.
She winced when she put pressure on her foot; she definitely had a nasty cut. Opening the medicine cabinet, she pulled out the first aid ointment and some bandages, just as John came back into the room.
“You didn’t have to do that for me,” he grinned.
“What?”
Maddy looked in the mirror, literally jumping back in surprise at the wild mess she’d made of her hair. “Oh, wow, sorry,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to push it down. “I was getting my brush when I realized my foot was cut.”
“Is it bad?”
“Just a few small cuts, nothing serious,” she assured him. She grabbed her brush and tried to deal with her hair. “Do you want to rinse off or anything?”
John considered the offer. “Maybe I’ll wash up quickly.”
“Help yourself to the soap and towels,” Maddy said, hesitating at the door. “Do you mind if I put some dry clothes on?”
“Why would I mind?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t seem fair.”
“You might as well get dry if you can.”
“I don’t think I have anything big enough for you.”
John smiled. “I hope not.”
Maddy hobbled over to her closet, averting her eyes from the wall of windows showcasing the storm. She looked for the warmest sweats she could find, and was soon transformed from head to foot into warm, dry clothing. She stepped out of the closet with her bundle of wet clothes.
“You okay?” she called.
“I’ll be right out,” John answered.
He stepped out of her bathroom a moment later, his beaming flashlight turning him into little more than a shadow. “I don’t suppose you have a big T-shirt lying around?” he asked between thunder claps, rubbing his head dry with one of her towels.
“I have some T-shirts that I sleep in; they’re pretty big.”
John considered this. “Pink? Flowery? Little puppies?”
Maddy laughed. “No, nothing like that. Well,” she reconsidered, “nothing that I’d let you wear.” She walked back into her closet and rummaged through a drawer. “Here’s an Indiana University football shirt.” She returned and tossed it to John. “One hundred percent manly.”
Back in the kitchen with the storm pounding the windows, John tried to help Maddy bandage her foot but she wouldn’t let him near it.
“I’m ticklish,” she insisted, as she turned away from him and tended to her wound. John was worried about one of the cuts, which looked like it might need a few stitches, but Maddy wouldn’t let him get close enough to see it clearly. He continued to hover, and Maddy threw threatening looks his way as she finished her doctoring.
When her cellphone rang, John picked it up and talked with Frank. He smiled as he hung up a few minutes later. “Parker’s playing Yahtzee with Kelsey and Blake by candlelight. He’s too busy to talk to me.”
Maddy laughed. “Sounds like they’re doing okay.”
“I guess so.” He came over and took her hand. Now accustomed to the howling storm, they walked back over toward the fireplace and stood looking out at what they could see of the beach through the darkness.
“I’ve always hated thunderstorms,” Maddy said, tucking into his side.
“I’ve always kind of enjoyed them,” John replied, holding her close.
“Well, I’ve kind of enjoyed this one,” Maddy said, linking her arms around John’s neck.
He smiled and leaned toward her. Their lips were just about to touch when Maddy cried out, “Otis!”
John drew back in surprise. He looked around, half expecting to see Maddy’s neighbor standing behind him.
Maddy ran over to the windows that overlooked Otis’ house. “I can’t believe I haven’t even given him a thought!” she moaned in self-reproach. “I feel terrible. I hate the idea of him being alone through all of this.”
“He’s probably been through a few storms,” John said. “I’m sure he’s fine.”
“I hope so,” Maddy replied, holding her candle by the window. “I wish he had a cellphone.”
“Do you want me to go over and check on him?”
“No, of course, not. I’m sure you’re right. He’ll be okay.” Maddy left the candle near the window, hoping that Otis would see it and respond in kind. She turned with a sigh and then smiled apologetically at John. “Sorry about that.”
He grinned and walked back to the hearth, pulling her down beside him.
Maddy nestled in and put her head on his chest. “So, what do you want to do now?”
John wrapped an arm around her. “What do you want to do?” He had only one really good idea, but when he tried it, she yelled out the name of her elderly neighbor.
“Well,” she thought for a moment. “Let’s talk.”
John smiled and leaned his head against the stony wall. Talking was probably wiser under the circumstances.
“I’ve been wondering,” Maddy continued. “How does a literature major become a home renovator?”
“I guess I didn’t explain that particular link, did I?”
“No, I think we went from education to travels, and skipped back to work.”
“Well,” John began, “I taught high school literature and English for a couple of years before I started my business.
”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I’d always planned to teach, and while I enjoyed it, I found that I really loved working with my hands. I worked in construction during college and grad school summer breaks, and even after I started teaching. I finally decided that construction was what I wanted to do, so I got with Frank, and we started FDR.”
“Where did you meet Frank?” Maddy asked.
“Long story.”
“Look!” Maddy cried suddenly, pointing toward her neighbor’s house. “Otis put a candle in his window. He’s okay.” She smiled happily back at John. “So, speaking of Frank, Linda and I had a great time today. She had some good ideas.”
Maddy mentioned the bookshelves that she was envisioning for the corner of the room, and they talked about what else could be done to make the area inviting. Their conversation drifted to the next room, and what Maddy might do in her kitchen. She decided to tell him what she might not do.
“I have a confession,” she began. “I can’t cook.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You can’t or you won’t?”
“A little of both,” she conceded.
“So, what are you going to do for breakfast?”
“Tomorrow?”
“No,” John laughed. “For your future guests.”
“Oh. I haven’t quite figured that out.”
“This would explain your reticence with regard to updating the kitchen.”
“You noticed?”
“You have a decided propensity to avoid the subject,” he observed.
She smiled, “There’s my English major.”
“It wouldn’t have to be complicated. You could start simple, and learn as you go.”
“Yeah, I could just serve…biscuits,” Maddy decided. “I’ll open a Bed and Biscuit,” she laughed.
John grinned. “Why bake at all? Just serve bagels or… bananas,” he suggested.
Maddy giggled. “Oh, that’s good. But I think it needs to be a two-syllable word. I can fry bacon.”
“Excellent,” John said. “Maddy’s Bed and Bacon.”
“I really shouldn’t have to limit myself. I can use any letter I want.”
“Absolutely,” John agreed.
“I could have a B&C and serve croissants,” she suggested.
“Cantaloupe’s too many syllables…”
“What’s with you and the fruit?”
“I like fruit.”
“Well, pick a two-syllable one.”
“Apple.”
“Won’t work, I can’t have a B&A.”
“Kumquat.”
“Wow – what’s that, a C or a K or a Q?”
“Really, Maddy. It’s a K.”
"B&K. Sounds like fast food. I don’t think I like it.”
John pulled her close. “Well, you make great coffee.”
“Yes, I do.”
“So, open a Bed and a Cup of Joe.”
“That just might work.”
fifteen
Maddy was relieved that Otis had survived the storm without her, and was reminded by her neighbor that he’d effectively done so for about eighty years; more than fifty, he was sure, before she was born. Maddy smiled at his gentle remonstration, but didn’t regret her concern for him.
Both were grateful that neither home had sustained serious damage. Maddy had lost a few shingles and some beach chairs, and Otis needed some gutters and drain pipes re-attached, but that seemed to be the worst of it. As they surveyed the neighborhood on the slow drive to church the next morning, they noticed branches down and debris blown about, but most of the buildings and property seemed intact.
When they pulled in to the church, only one other vehicle occupied the lot. Maddy was relieved to see John’s truck in the corner near a small outbuilding. She parked her car carefully nearby.
“Good thing we dressed casually,” Otis said. “It looks like we’ll be doing more cleaning than worshiping this morning.”
“They would do that?”
“ ‘They’ is us,” he reminded her with a smile. “If there are folks with pressing needs, Pastor will have us see to them first. I don’t imagine God will mind terribly if we delay our worship for a few hours,” he speculated.
“Guess not,” Maddy answered, walking toward the shed.
“Miss Maddy!” Parker shrieked, racing out of the building. “Miss Rachel had her baby!” He slammed into Maddy with an energetic hug, and she did her best to catch him and keep him from falling onto the pavement.
“Who had a baby?” she asked. Baby talk was not the first thing she expected to hear. Then it dawned on her.
“The pastor’s wife,” Otis supplied. “I hope she’s okay.”
John and Blake came out of the shed with matching grins of greeting. Maddy was taken back by how much they looked alike. She’d always thought Parker looked more like his dad, but this morning, Blake took that honor. She smiled in return, curious about their news.
“Hi, Mr. Otis. Hi, Miss Maddy,” Blake said politely. “How’s your house?”
“It’s fine, Blake,” she answered. “I just lost a few shingles. How’s your house?”
He launched into the dramatic details of the limited damage, especially to their fort. Maddy smiled at John and turned her attention back to Blake.
“…but Dad can put the swings back on. He says maybe we can paint it, too!”
“That would be fun. You could paint the outside walls in camouflage colors, and then, you know what I’d do? I’d paint a map on the wall inside, where you could keep track of your adventures.” She lowered her voice appropriately. “You could use chalk and draw right on the map.”
Otis smiled at the exchange. Apparently he’d have to be the one to inquire about the baby. “Did Rachel really have her baby? Is everyone alright?”
John pulled his gaze away from his son and his… Maddy. “Yes, they’re all fine. She went into labor in the middle of the storm, and they didn’t want to drive up to Augusta. A neighbor came over to help, and Rachel had a baby boy early this morning. Name’s Jonathan,” he said with a grin.
“Well, well, well,” Otis replied with a smile. “That’s quite an honor, I’d say!”
“Yeah,” said John. “It might have something to do with the fact that Rachel’s father’s name is Jonathan.”
“Oh,” said Otis.
“And it’s Rob’s dad’s middle name.”
Otis chuckled. “And the neighbor who delivered the baby?”
John laughed. “Probably. Although I think it was a woman.”
Maddy got up to join them. “So, did I hear you have a namesake?”
“Not exactly,” John answered. He filled her in on the news, and told them that worship was canceled for the day.
“Pastor asked me to swing by and put a note on the door, but I figured I’d hang out and see if we could put together a bit of a cleanup party. You up for joining us?”
“Absolutely,” Otis agreed. “We can start right here in the lot.”
Maddy was definitely up for helping, although she wished she’d dressed more appropriately. She looked down at her white slacks; at least she hadn’t worn a skirt.
“You won’t want to get that blouse dirty.” John followed her gaze much more appreciatively.
“You have a work shirt in the car, Dad,” Blake suggested. “Miss Maddy could wear that.”
“Yeah!” Parker circled around in time to join the conversation. “Just like you wore her shirt last night!”
John looked down at his son with a sigh. “You’re right, Parker, my shirt got very wet in the storm, and Miss Maddy was nice enough to give me a dry shirt to wear over to Uncle Frank’s to pick you up.” He probably didn’t need to cover all those bases, but he did anyway. Maddy seemed a little relieved, and Otis nodded politely.
“So, how about that shirt?” Maddy asked. “Can I change in the church?”
“Sure,” John answered, heading over to his truck. Pulling the shirt out of the back seat, he said, �
�It’s clean, but it’s been in here a while.” He handed it hesitantly to Maddy, who had followed him.
It was one of his grey tees, and she took hold of it, careful not to bury her face in the fabric while he was watching. “This will be fine. I’d just as soon not trash my blouse.”
“Oh, but you’re okay with trashing my nice T-shirt?” John asked, not yet letting go of it. He adjusted his grip so that his hand held Maddy’s somewhere inside the cloth.
Maddy looked up at him with a smile. “I’ll be careful, but I can’t make any promises.”
“I guess I’ll take my chances.” He stroked her thumb with his. What kind of bans would be in place while they were working at the church?
“Are you okay?” Maddy asked him.
“I’m fine. You’d better go change.” He let the shirt and her hand go.
Maddy reached up to touch his shoulder. “I’m glad you made it home okay last night.”
John took her hand and kissed it. “I’m glad I got to spend the storm with you,” he said quietly.
“Me, too.” She lingered, not wanting their brief, private moment to end. The look in John’s eyes seemed surprisingly intense. She decided she’d better leave before she threw herself into his arms and really made a scene.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” she said, backing away slowly.
“Okay,” John answered, watching her retreat.
“I don’t suppose you have any jeans in there?” she asked, effectively breaking the spell.
John laughed. “I think you’d have better luck with a pair of Blake’s,” he answered. “You can check the ‘Lost and Found’ box in the office. You might find something in there.”
“Okay,” Maddy answered, turning with determination. Why couldn’t she seem to tear herself away? She walked to the church and a much heavier thought hit her. How would she survive a week without him when he and his family went to New Hampshire?
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