by Tina Michele
“You’re breaking up. Are you there? Willa?” Haven disconnected and redialed, but this time it went straight to voice mail. The storm had made official landfall an hour earlier, and so far the west coast was being hammered unlike anything they’d seen since 1960. Major news networks had set up camp in St. Cloud about twenty miles northwest of Willa and Kyle’s farm, including the famous Jim Cantore from the Weather Channel. There was already word of several tornadoes forming along the eyewall causing significant damage along the eastern side of the storm.
“Channel Nine says the cell towers are down southwest of Orlando, and they’ve lost power almost everywhere south of Lakeland.”
“She’s closer toward the east than west, but if it keeps on track it won’t matter.”
There was nothing about this storm that trackers or prediction models were getting right. It came in as a strong Category 4, but it was lower and slower than they planned, and on a path that would send it straight between Haven and Willa.
“It should weaken a bit as it moves across, Haven. That’s what they said.”
She knew what they’d said. That’s what they always said, and she had been through enough of these to know all the jargon. But it didn’t make her feel any better. Especially when they showed image after image of the damage being sustained. And she didn’t understand how every major storm to come through always had to hit in the dead of night. “Why are these damn things always at night?” she asked, looking out one of the gaps they had left in the shutters.
“Channel Six just said that they lost the roof on the city hall in Lake Wales.”
“You’re not making this any better, Gianna.”
“Sorry. I’ll turn it off for a bit.”
“No!” Haven said. As nerve-wracking as it was, the news was her one connection to Willa.
“Okay, I’ll just turn it down then.”
Haven sat at the kitchen table and turned her phone over and over in her hand willing it to ring. She just wanted to hear her voice and know she was all right. It was bad enough that Willa had gotten hurt getting things ready. Thankfully, she’d said it wasn’t anything major. “I can’t say I miss this nonsense. We don’t have freaking hurricanes in Colorado.”
“No, but you have snow, and that’s worse.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you, but right now it’s a toss-up. Besides my family, there’s only one thing about Florida that’s missing out in Colorado,” Haven said.
“And the chance of getting us, or her, out there is less than that of getting a hurricane.”
“I know.” As much as she could dream about Willa moving out to Colorado, she knew it would never happen.
“And you are not giving up your new art career to move your ass back here and be a pig farmer.”
Haven was blindsided by Gianna’s statement. This was coming from the same woman who had practically pushed her out the door to go see Willa. “First of all, she isn’t a pig farmer. They don’t even have pigs. And secondly, what the hell?”
“Whatever. I’m just saying that you’ve made such a great life for yourself out there and it would be stupid to give it up and move back here.”
Haven wasn’t going to deny that she had a pretty good thing going on in Denver. But moving back to Florida would never be an option for her, no matter what she planned on doing with her future. “Gianna, I’m not moving back here.”
“Good. You can’t become a world famous artist if you’re busy plucking chickens all day, or whatever.”
“What the hell kind of farm do you think she has? And besides, I don’t even want to be a famous artist. Sometimes I don’t even want to be a regular one.”
“Wait, what?”
“There’s more to being an artist than just painting. It’s about deadlines and contracts and kissing people’s asses. None of which I enjoy. I don’t even like most people, let alone want to kiss their ass. It’s political and cliquey.”
Haven was surprised to be saying it aloud. Sure, she’d mentioned it here or there, but never let it all out. She’d never been the popular girl in school. And the art scene in Denver, and probably everywhere else, was full of snobs and egotists, and that was before getting involved with clients and dealers. Someone was always better or at least knew more people, so their talent was irrelevant. Even Bianca’s first priority was always about making people like her.
“Please don’t tell me you want to give it all up to be a farmer.”
Why should it even matter? It was her life, not Gianna’s. “So what if I did?”
“Then I’d say you’re full of shit,” Gianna said, pushing herself away from the table.
Before Haven could respond, she had turned up the volume on the television. Power outages were now affecting more than 600,000 people throughout Central Florida, and they were reporting major flooding in counties across the state. Haven’s heart dropped like lead when they mentioned the Kissimmee Chain of Lakes area, near where Willa lived. Witnesses stated that massive oaks were toppling over onto homes and vehicles and uprooting entire foundations. Willa and Kyle had at least twenty hundred-year-old oaks around the property and near their homes. As if her anxiety couldn’t get worse, an emergency broadcast sounded declaring a tornado warning for Haven’s immediate area. Her senses heightened as she struggled to listen for the telltale sounds of a freight train headed toward their house.
“Help me get the mattress into the bathroom,” Haven said. Her face was hot with anxiety.
“Okay,” Gianna said.
“Ma, bring the radio and the flashlights from the kitchen.”
“Already in there, sweetie.”
While Haven and Gianna were sitting at the table, her mother had moved the supplies and water into the master bathroom and set them in the shower. The tub was filled with water, but there was plenty of space for the mattress and sleeping bags. The electricity flickered, but stayed on, and Haven was glad. The three of them got comfortable on the floor and settled in to wait for the all clear.
“So, you wanna be a farmer,” her mother said.
“Ugh. That’s not what I said. I…I want to start my own camp. There. Happy?” She glared at Gianna. “And yes, I want animals, too. So?”
“I think that sounds like fun, sweetheart.”
“Seriously, Mom?” Gianna said.
“Sure, why not? If that’s what she wants to do, then why not. What’s it matter to you?”
Haven smiled. She hadn’t expected her mother to come so easily to her defense. “Exactly. What’s it matter what I do?” A booming clap of thunder rattled the walls and Haven jumped. “Dammit.”
“It doesn’t matter to me. I just think that she shouldn’t mess up a good thing, that’s all.”
“I guess that depends on what your definition of good is,” her mother said.
And with that, they sat in silence and listened to the sounds of the storm outside.
* * *
When Willa attempted once more to leave the house, Kyle didn’t stop her. She had tried several times to stick her head outside and get some sense of damage, but each time, Kyle had pulled her back into the house. It was for her own safety, but they nearly had a knock-down drag-out after the fifth time he’d done it. It was early morning, and while the storm had passed, there was a steady wind and the sky was still eerily dark.
Willa stepped out into the yard and her heart sank. Four of the giant oaks that lined the driveway had toppled over, their entire root systems pulled from the ground, taking with them the surrounding soil and road gravel. The large holes left behind were flooded with water, while branches, palm fronds, and other debris covered the ground. Willa turned to face the house. It remained intact except for having lost most of the roofing shingles. Her stomach jolted the instant she realized that the barn was no longer towering in the background. “No.” Willa hurdled broken limbs as she ran around to the back of the house. She stopped when she saw Kyle standing frozen before an enormous pile of debris where the old barn had stood.
Tangled metal and wood was collapsed onto itself or twisted with what was left of the surrounding pine trees. The steel pole barn still stood, but entire sheets of roofing had been peeled back like the lid of a sardine can.
The sound of steady wind and scraping metal filled the air. Without it, the deafening silence would’ve been unbearable. Just then, Annie went barreling past them toward the barn. “Annie, no! Come.” Willa and Kyle chased after, calling her name. It wasn’t like Annie not to listen. In the clearing behind where the barn had stood was a sight that squeezed Willa’s heart.
“I can’t believe it,” Kyle said. Annie barked and circled the herd of animals that stood in the middle of the field. They were wet and matted, covered in mud and rubble, and all huddled together into a safe, protective circle.
Willa’s relief was short-lived when she realized there was no red peeking through the tree line at her from where her house should be. Her stomach turned as she made her way along the mangled fence toward her home. She scrambled over the fallen trees and broken limbs that blocked the path. Her feet sucked into the ground that was soft and saturated with rain and overflow from the lake. When she got to the end of the path, her breath caught in her lungs.
She hadn’t realized Kyle had followed her until she heard him gasp. The thick canopy of a massive tree blanketed Willa’s small house. She was crippled in disbelief, petrified to the spot. Her ears buzzed, and tears stung her eyes. It was as if there had been no house there at all, just a tree and its enormous spidery branches.
“Willa? Kyle? Hello?” a voice called out from amidst the destruction, muffled by the rush of blood through Willa’s ears.
“Shit. It’s Haven,” Kyle said, turning toward the sound of her voice, but Willa didn’t move.
“Oh, Willa!” Haven said, wrapping her arms around Willa’s shoulders.
Willa still didn’t move or hug Haven back. “What are you doing here, Haven?” she said without tone or inflection.
“I’ve been going crazy. I had to come see that you were all right.” Haven rubbed Willa’s arms, looked up at her, and touched the stitches on her face. “What—”
Willa stepped back from Haven’s touch. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous, and you shouldn’t even be out on the roads right now.”
“I don’t care. I had to see you.” Haven reached out and stroked Willa’s arm.
She had to see her, or she had to see her lose everything? “You need to go. There’s no reason for you to be here,” she said, pulling her arm away.
“What are you talking about, Willa?”
“This isn’t your problem. You need to go home.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I can help. Kyle, help me get in here,” Haven said, squeezing herself between the branches to get to the front door.
“Stop, Haven. You’re going to get yourself killed,” Willa said as she grabbed Haven by the elbow. Because that’s all she needed was for Haven to get hurt trying to save her stuff.
“You don’t always have to rescue people, Haven. Some of us can do it on our own.”
“Will, don’t,” Kyle said.
“But you don’t have to. I’m here. Kyle’s here. We can—”
“Go home, Haven.” It was all gone. She had nothing left, and she refused to let Haven stick around to salvage the pieces.
“Why?”
“Because you don’t belong here, Haven. This is my farm, my life. You have your own, and it’s not here. You’re not going to give that up for this…this mess. Just go.”
Haven grabbed Willa’s hand and squeezed it. She refused to let go when Willa tried to pull away. “Don’t do this. Not again. Don’t push me away.”
“Please, let go,” Willa said, tugging her hand away.
“Willa?” Tears ran down Haven’s cheeks; Willa’s heart shattered. “You can’t just push me away because you’re too prideful to need help! You’re not that person anymore, remember?”
“Kyle, get Haven back to her car.”
“Will, but—”
“Now,” Willa said, turning to walk away.
Haven came around and stood in front of Willa, pulling her shoulders back and wiping the tears from her face. “I can’t do this again. It will kill me. I know it will.”
“It won’t. It’s best for both of us, you’ll see. You deserve better than this, better than me.”
“I love you, Willa, and you love me, too. Please, don’t do this,” Haven cried.
“Good-bye, Haven,” Willa said. Her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces, but she had to do it. It was for their own good, and she was saving them in the long run, she told herself, over and over again.
“Kyle, don’t let her do this,” Haven begged him.
“You know she won’t listen to me. Wait a few days. Maybe she’ll come around.”
“Not this time. If I leave, I’m going back to Colorado. I’ve waited so long already.” Haven looked once more at Willa. She could feel their connection crumbling as they stared into each other’s eyes with tears falling.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. It was all Willa could manage to say before she turned and walked away. So very sorry.
Chapter Twenty
Two weeks had passed since Haven had returned from Florida. Her mother’s home had sustained minor damage with a few downed limbs, some missing siding, and a handful of shingles. The day after the storm, her mother had already called her handyman to get on his list for repairs. There wasn’t a single reason for Haven to stay.
For days on end, Haven locked herself away in her studio to finish the last paintings she needed for the gallery opening. Despite not wanting to go through with it, Haven would fulfill her obligation to Bianca. However, save for a few pieces she’d already completed months earlier, Haven explored a new style for the rest of them. A style that was born from a whirlwind of love and loss, and had begun with the drunken painting of Willa she’d created weeks earlier.
Each time Haven closed her eyes, Willa was there, standing before her exposed, waiting for Haven to reach out and touch her. But once again, she was just beyond her grasp. The heart and soul she had once held in her hand was as distant as the stars in the sky. Haven’s brush moved quickly against the canvas. The black emptiness framed the painting, moving inward and fusing with deep blue and midnight purple into the shape of two women, the curves of their breasts and bellies close to touching but separated by a vast darkness. Their flesh was made of astral swirls and a million specks of stardust that created a sense of eternal movement forever suspended in time. It was the last piece she needed to complete her set for the opening. It might have even been the last painting she’d ever finish at all.
She closed the door to the studio and went out to the living room. She stood in front of the television deciding whether or not to turn it on and get lost in some mundane home and garden show. Haven decided instead to plop down onto the couch with her phone. She had downloaded a real estate app and saved a few searches with her ideal, albeit farfetched, property features. As expected, Colorado was far too expensive for what she wanted, and remembering her conversation with Willa, she had added Tennessee and the Carolinas to her list. Something always drew her back to North Carolina with its mountains, lakes, and rivers. Haven was surprised and a bit overwhelmed by the selection and varied price ranges. She’d love to buy a working ranch with house and outbuildings on forty acres, but a million dollars was more than out of her price range. Yet, two listings down was another with home on a hundred and twenty acres for a quarter of the price. While the latter was certainly more reasonable, what was the catch? Although none of it mattered, because she couldn’t afford the down payment on either. She decided it’d be less depressing to check her email.
Haven had gotten Bianca to print a few dozen extra invitations that she could send out to her friends from camp. To her surprise, nearly everyone she’d invited had RSVP’d to the positive, including several people who didn’t even live in the state. It didn’
t hurt that the annual fundraising gala for Valiant Adventures was being held that same weekend and most would be in town for that. She was determined to fill the room with people she liked with hopes of minimizing the number of pretentious art critics she’d have to talk to. It broke her heart that one of those people would not be Willa. Not because she hadn’t yet RSVP’d, but because Haven didn’t even bother to invite her.
There had been a time when Haven would daydream about Willa walking into the room during some such event just to surprise her. They would see each other from across the room, and the world would fade away around them. But Haven knew that was crap, and real life didn’t work out that way. Real life drops a duffel on your foot, tries to drown you, sends a hurricane to kill you, and then punches you in the face. “Good grief, Haven,” she said to herself. She needed to get out of the house. She had no more tears to cry, and she needed to move on once and for all.
Haven sent out a text to Wendy, Diego, Scrat, and a few other locals to see if anyone would bite on the idea of heading over to the wave park at Clear Creek. Within minutes, all of them had replied with a resounding, “Yes.”
“Hell yeah,” Haven said, jumping up from the couch to gather her gear.
Since they were scattered around Denver and the suburbs, they agreed to meet there within the hour. Haven loaded her boat onto the rack of her car and tossed her dry suit, helmet, PFD, and dry bag into the back. The idea of being on the water thrilled her. She arrived in Golden within twenty minutes of getting on the road. Scrat had beat her there, having just gotten finished with a rolling lesson at the pool. By the time Haven had unloaded her kayak, Diego and Wendy had pulled in. Haven was so excited she could barely contain herself, even if they were just going to spend a few hours playing in the waves and not running the river. “Hey, y’all!”
“Hey, stranger. Welcome back,” Diego said.
“How’s it feel to be out in the sunlight? You’ve been locked up in that studio of yours since you got back. Is that paint in your hair?” Wendy asked, reaching up and pulling on a clump of Haven’s hair.