Megan rolled her gaze to the ceiling at Paige’s weird philosophy and tossed the french fry carton into her trash. Brushing her hands, she looked Paige in her contact-covered pupils. “I’m not after his respect; I’m trying to repel him.”
“I knew it.” Paige hit the desk with her fist then leaned close. “Don’t give in. Not a sweet thing like you. I can give you some tips.”
“That’s what I’d hoped.”
“Over-laugh at everything he says.”
Megan snickered. “That’s your advice?”
“No, seriously. I just read this article about the best ways to repel a man. When you said repel just now, it reminded me of the article.”
“Why were you reading that kind of article?”
“Getting my hair done and it sounded interesting.”
Megan could see how a laughing hyena might deter a man. “What else?”
“When you’re not laughing, cry for no reason. Talk loud. Nag him.” She stood, straightened her pencil skirt. “If those don’t work, then don’t wash your hair. Got it?”
“Sure. Just be generally obnoxious?”
“You have any better ideas?”
Megan shook her head.
Paige shrugged. “Then try obnoxious. And if that doesn’t work and you get yourself in a pickle, just scream. I’ll be across this room in a flash. He’ll never know what hit him.”
“Thanks, Paige. If nothing else, you know how to lift my spirits.”
After that, Megan buried herself in her work, which must have been why she didn’t notice how the sky had darkened until Chance strode through her office. “Look outside!”
Megan lifted her eyes and saw an ominous sky. “Aye, yi, yi.”
Chance’s mouth quirked, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “There’s a storm heading in. And now there’re tornado warnings. I’m closing up shop. Everybody goes home early.”
Tornado warnings! Megan leaned over her steering wheel and squinted between strokes of the windshield wiper for a better look at the sky, scanning for any indication of funnel clouds. It was too dark to tell. Plain City didn’t usually get tornados, but she couldn’t dismiss the severity of the storms that had recently ravaged Indiana. She fiddled with the radio, but the antique only hissed static.
Sheets of rain blurred her vision. Wind whipped the car, and she fought the steering wheel to keep it in its proper lane. By the time she’d taken her exit on the down ramp, her nerves were fraught. Between blinding bursts of rain, visibility cleared enough to reveal some new obstacles. Her eyes widened at a row of telephone poles that had been snapped like matchsticks. “Aye, yi, yi.”
She clamped the steering wheel and drove another mile, and then the wind suddenly quieted. The rain quit. The wipers screeched against the windshield, but she didn’t have faith to turn them off. Drawing in a breath of relief, she searched the sky to see if it was just a lapse between storms. It looked like she’d have a clear road now, and she was almost home. The worst was over. Still thinking about the telephone poles, she glanced in her rearview mirror.
Back in the distance, a swirl of dust moved across a field. How could it be dusty after the downpour she’d just driven in? She glanced in her rearview mirror again, unable to take her eyes off the peculiar squall. It bounced … and spewed things!
Frantic again, Megan rolled down her window and jerked her side mirror. Then she saw what was feeding the whirlwind. A small funnel cloud hovered over the field, touching the ground, scraping it, and sending splatters of destruction back into the sky. Oh no!
With a groan, she stomped on the gas pedal and held it to the floor. The car bucked and slid. She whipped the steering wheel and the tires straightened and gripped the road. It took all her concentration to keep the Nova on the road, and she couldn’t see much out the rearview mirror except that the tornado was gaining on her.
With a prayer of relief, she braked just enough to make the drive, spitting gravel and hitting the brakes. Her car slid sideways and barely missed Micah’s Honda. Her hands trembled so bad she couldn’t get her car door open. But it suddenly burst open. Micah grabbed her arm.
“Hurry!”
“There’s a tornado!” she cried.
“I know. I’ve been out at the road watching for you.”
She must have driven right past him. Clutching her arm, he dragged her toward his cottage. She stopped and shrugged him away. “No. We have to go to the root cellar. This way.”
She broke into a run, assuming Micah was behind her, and yelled over her shoulder. “What about Mom?”
“They’re at your grandparents. Hurry.”
They’d reached the corner of the house, and she led him past the kitchen door to a smaller one with a wooden bar. A downburst drenched her in seconds, and she fumbled with the bar.
A hand clamped on her shoulder. “Let me.”
Megan danced to the side, and Micah jerked the door open, revealing a dark, cavernous hole. She’d never liked the root cellar, hated when Mom sent her after canned goods. It was smelly and full of spiders. Once they’d even had a snake.
A roar filled Megan’s ears, and her heart lurched in fear. “It’s coming.”
“Are there steps?”
“Yes.”
He nudged her. “Hurry, Meg.”
She jerked the string that dangled from the ceiling. A light switched on. She started down. “Can you close the door?”
“Yes, I’ve already got it bolted.”
She’d hit the bottom landing and swung around. She grabbed his shirt. “What about the cat?”
He placed his hand over hers and squeezed. “It’ll be fine.”
She looked into his eyes. They brooked no argument, so she nodded.
He gave her a grim smile. “We will be, too.” His gaze swept over the small cellar.
As the roaring sound grew louder, the electricity flashed off, pitching them into complete darkness. Megan gasped and clutched Micah’s shirt tighter.
He drew her close against him. “Let’s go beneath the stairs. It’s the safest place.”
They couldn’t move unless she released her hold on him. He was right about moving under the stairway. Reluctantly she eased out of his arms, and they felt their way around the stairway.
“Let’s sit down.” His calm voice was an anchor in the storm.
“All right, but it’s dirty.”
He laughed. “The least of our worries.”
They eased down and braced their backs against a wall that probably had spiderwebs. She hated the brown recluse that occupied dark corners. When Micah’s arm slipped around her, pulling her close, she burrowed into his protection. The winds howled, and he softly prayed something out of the Psalms. Her fingers curled around the front of his damp shirt.
A loud crash rattled the wall near the entrance. He patted her hand. “Shh.”
She hadn’t realized she was crying. She gulped, embarrassed. “It was an awful drive home. The funnel cloud chased me. I didn’t know if I could outrun it.”
Beneath her hand, his chest rumbled with low laughter. “I saw you coming down the road. It was amazing the way you handled your car.”
“I couldn’t even get out of my car. Thank God you came for me.” He’d been the best sight of her life.
“I’ve got you now.”
She hiccupped. “After all your blabbering about being discreet, here we are alone together. In the dark.”
“ ‘When it is dark enough, you can see the stars.’ ”
“What?”
“Ralph Waldo Emerson.”
“I don’t see any stars. I highly doubt stars are out there tonight.”
“Maybe not tonight, but tomorrow.”
“But—”
“Listen! Hear that? It’s letting up.”
She let out a nervous laugh, grasping at the hope that the nightmare was ending. “My grandparents have a basement. Is that why Mom went over there?”
“She was visiting them when your dad came ho
me. He wanted to go over and help your grandfather get ready for the storm.”
“He doesn’t get around so good anymore.”
“Your dad was worried Anita might get caught on the road in the storm. He was worried about you, too, but I told him I’d keep you safe.” He relaxed his hold on her. “Maybe I should go up and look around. Where do you keep a flashlight?”
She hated to be in the dark cellar alone. “In the junk drawer in the kitchen, but I want to come with you.”
“Wait here for now.” He disengaged himself from her, and she heard his footfall on the steps. She heard scraping, a thump, and a groan.
“What’s wrong?”
“The door won’t budge. It’s probably that loud noise we heard. Something’s blocking it. There’s a hole and water leaking in, too.”
Panic tamped up her spine. “But we can’t stay down here.”
Several stair steps creaked, and he sidled in beside her again. “We have no other choice. We’ll just have to make the best of it.”
“How?”
He stroked her cheek. “If you don’t think of something, I will.”
He meant to kiss her! For an instant, she wanted it, too. But then she came to her senses. “I guess you could practice next week’s sermon on me.”
His touch fell away, and his laughter rumbled through the darkness. “That would be my second-best idea.”
She tried to straighten against the wall and not humiliate herself by clutching him like a frightened bird again, but it wasn’t nearly as comforting. Especially when the storm continued to brew overhead. He mumbled something about dealing with pain. His sermon did little to warm her, and she shivered. He moved closer. She felt the hard planes of his side and leaned against his strength.
Megan awoke with a start, stiff and hazy-minded. Her face was pressed against a beating heart. She went rigid as the night’s events came back to her. Lifting her head, she gently pushed away and swiped at her hair.
“Your dad’s back. But he had to go after help.”
“What time is it?”
“Still the middle of the night, I think.” Micah pushed up and started up the creaky stairway.
“He was here earlier?”
His voice grew more distant, coming from overhead. “Yeah, you were sleeping.”
She didn’t want him to leave her alone in the dark. “Is everybody all right?”
“Yes.”
Megan stood and bumped her head on a step. With a groan, she rubbed it. The cellar was too dark to see much until her eyes adjusted. She swiped at her clothing and moved to the bottom of the stairway.
“Stay put for now, Megan. When they remove the structure, there could be a cave in.”
“Cave in?” She backed into a row of canned goods.
“Micah! I’m back.”
“I’m here.” Micah returned her dad’s shout.
How had she slept through his first visit? The floor was flooded. Had Micah kept them dry? She was embarrassed that she’d slept while he kept vigil.
Dad gave Micah instructions, and Micah backed partway down the steps again. There was a big commotion, and suddenly, the door burst open. Megan scurried up the steps behind Micah, and he helped her out the splintered opening.
Dad pulled her into the safety of his arms. “Thank the Lord you’re safe.”
“I’m fine. Where’s Mom?”
“I made her stay inside. She’s worried. Better go in to her.”
Megan stepped out of his embrace and into the predawn. She swept her gaze over the property, portions dimly lit by the headlights of Will Landis’s tractor. The only major damage she saw was the tree that had smashed into the cellar door.
Will grunted, pushing debris out of her path.
“Everybody all right at your place?” she asked the farmer.
“Yep. We won’t be able to tell what’s happened till morning, but I haven’t gotten any calls that anyone’s in trouble. ’Cept you.”
Micah stepped up beside her. “Looks like we picked the most dangerous spot on the property.”
Bill tugged his dripping ball cap. “You did the right thing.”
Megan looked up at Micah, who’d been her mainstay. She couldn’t think of words to express her deep thankfulness. Awareness of their intimacies burned between them. “You coming?”
“In a minute. I’m going to check on the cat.”
Almost relieved, she rounded the house to the kitchen. While Micah’s embrace meant everything in that dark, dank hole, she feared once the sun broke, matters would take a different spin.
CHAPTER 19
Bill used the chainsaw, and Micah dragged away limbs and tossed debris into a trailer that Will Landis had loaned them. Bill hadn’t said much, other than to thank him for keeping Megan safe. The night spent in the pitch-black root cellar with Megan dominated Micah’s thoughts. The way she’d clung to him for protection had crashed his defenses so that all he had been able to think about was shielding her from harm.
When he’d seen the funnel cloud chasing her car and met the desperation in her eyes as she drove unseeing past him, instinct launched him to her side. He’d every heroic intention to sweep her up into his arms and to the shelter of his cottage. But she’d summoned her wit for the both of them and run toward the root cellar instead.
That night, the cellar became a world within a world, a journey to a place where time fell apart and set them on the cusp of reality. Everything material and inconsequential fell away. Everything dear and true became monumental. All that mattered in the darkness of the storm was Megan and God.
When she’d quieted in his arms, everything was pure and right. There with Megan and God, he had been satisfied and fulfilled. But then the storm ended, and Bill’s voice from the other side of the trappings thrust him back into the harsher, outside world.
Micah heaved an armload of debris. It thudded into the trailer. He pulled himself up over the side rails and stomped down the trash, oblivious to the pain of sharp branches and prickly brush. He hopped out again and strode toward Bill.
The kitchen door opened, and Megan stepped into Micah’s view. She looked pretty and fresh, calm and collected as if it were any other normal day. She stopped beside her dad and commented on the damage. “We’ll miss that tree, won’t we?”
“Yep. It’s going to expose your Mom’s garden now. Coulda been worse, though.”
She looked at Micah with a heated gaze that validated his own feelings. For them, normal had evaporated and rolled away with the clouds. They would have to redefine their relationship.
She looked away. “I gotta go.”
“Micah and I are going to Barbara’s and the other widows’ after we’re done here.”
“Good. I’ll see you both tonight.” She started toward her car, off to the pilot and everything that drew her away from him.
That afternoon Megan drove home, sadly observing the tornado’s hit-and-miss destruction. Some barns had been damaged and trees downed. The road was washed away in places, but from all she’d heard, Plain City had missed the brunt of the storm. Still, she found it hard to shake off the vivid memories of the funnel cloud and the terror that had clamped her chest and stolen her wits. Through it all, Micah had been solid and strong, tender and reassuring.
She flicked down her visor to ward off the afternoon’s glare and flinched. The paper with the words Do not be unequally yoked was pinned to her visor with a prayer-covering pin!
Her mom must have found it in her skirt pocket. A pang of guilt struck her that she’d completely forgotten about it. Her conscience recalled how she’d earlier memorized it and meditated on it throughout her workday. But Chance had broken down her guard with his constant presence. It was hard to think about Bible verses when he was perched on her desk, painting her pictures of his jungle paradise.
She removed a sticky note from her steering wheel and stuck in on top of the verse then glanced back at the road. Just before she’d left the office, she’d returned to he
r desk from the ladies room. That’s when she’d discovered the sticky note. Chance had placed it on her computer screen. It read:
MDS needs you. So do I. No hot dog making required.
She remembered snippets of their conversation, his concern for her well-being during the storm. Tomorrow was Friday, and she still hadn’t given him her answer about the flight to Indiana. She needed to make her decision tonight. She had thought up an excuse she could use, flimsy as it was. Lil and Fletch were returning tomorrow, and she was anxious to see them again. Chance would know it was the truth, since he still dropped in at the restaurant, but there was no reason Megan had to see them on Saturday. Flimsy.
She pulled into the drive and noticed that Will Landis’s tractor and trailer were gone. Aside from the ugly gap where the tree once stood, things looked pretty normal. Her gaze swept across the garden and froze when it found Micah. He stood with his back to her and his shoulder pressed against the scaly trunk of a surviving hickory tree. She should talk to him and get it over with before things got more awkward. Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she shut her car door.
Micah startled and looked over his shoulder. “It’s that late already?”
Starting toward him, she replied, “It’s been a long day for me.”
He kneaded his arm muscles. “Couldn’t be as rough as mine.”
She shrugged. “I kept thinking about the storm. How’s Barbara?”
“She’s fine. Nobody got hurt. The men have been cleaning up all day. I helped out at Lori Longacre’s this afternoon.” He touched the back of his neck. “Did I mention how sore I am?”
“I took the hint.” The muscle flexing was hard to ignore. She tried by fixing her gaze on Miss Purrty. The cat rolled in the litter at the edge of the woods. But when silence prevailed, Megan’s thoughts rushed out. “Thanks for everything last night.”
The rascal’s mouth quirked up in the corner. “It was my pleasure.”
Hers, too, but she wouldn’t admit it. Now in the daylight, the way she’d clung to him was pitiful. But her embarrassment clearly amused him.
Plain City Bridesmaids Page 78