“Calm down, kid,” Armando stepped in front of him. “Breathe, okay, just breathe.” His boss’s fingers dug into his shoulders, fighting to hold him upright. “She doesn’t know. And, I won’t tell her if you don’t want me to.”
In the older man’s eyes, Seth saw understanding, truth. A real second chance. He was never going to get out from under Julia’s shadow.
Staying in Atlanta was guaranteed to keep him in the past.
“Where do I spend hurricane season?”
Armando smiled, his white teeth glowing against his tanned skin. “Pensacola. You’ll be able to spend a lot of time back in Gulf Shores if you want.”
Seth looked up at the ceiling tiles and nodded. “Good. I’m in.”
4
The high-pitched whimpering invaded Elaina’s sleep. One minute she was on stage, dancing like her tarnished ballerina charm to a faceless audience, and a second later she opened one eye to her sun-drenched bedroom. “Five more minutes, Nim,” she mumbled, burrowing her head deeper into the pillow.
Her dog’s whining stopped and she felt the floating release of sleep drift up from her feet.
Just as her brain was turning out the light of consciousness, a heavy weight landed on her stomach and a deluge of dog slobber struck her face.
“Oof, okay, okay.” Elaina tried to cover her eyes with her forearm, but Nimbus pushed it out of the way with his large muzzle and continued the wake-up bath. “I’m up, I’m up.”
She picked up her phone, but an angry red battery stared back at her. The bright sunlight filtering through her blinds told her what Nim had said in his persistent dog-alarm clock way: she was going to be late.
Very late.
“Dammit.” She sprang out of bed. She felt blindly under her bed for her power cord. A sock and empty coffee cup later, she had it plugged in and was typing a text to Heath. “Come on, Nim. We’re on double time this morning. We have to be in Pierce’s office in forty-five minutes.”
With the coffee brewing and her dog eating, Elaina loaded up her toothbrush and hopped in the shower. Shampoo drained down her long hair as she scrubbed her teeth, spitting the extra toothpaste into the tub drain.
The two piles of clothes on her bedroom floor stared up at her. Which was the clean pile?
A sweatshirt worn two days ago sat atop one pile, but so did the T-shirt she’d worn yesterday. She sighed. This was one area of her life she couldn’t get her arms around. Everything else had a process, a rhythm that followed a consistent beat. Laundry was a chaotic mess of lights, darks, cotton and dry cleaning.
Elaina opted for the last shirt hanging in her closet, with ‘Cloudy with a Chance of No’ emblazoned across the front. She’d picked it up years ago as a subtle way to ward off the advances of a classmate.
The guy had gotten the message, and soon began flirting with a bouncy blonde whose dinginess seemed to rise with the barometric pressure.
She cringed at wearing the innuendo-laced shirt at a meeting with her advisor but figured it would be less offensive than stinky, dirty laundry.
The traffic lights in Norman rallied against her. At every green light, she sped to the next red, using that moment to pull on a boot or work on braiding her wet hair.
Two minutes until her meeting with Dr. Pierce, she screeched to a halt in a parking spot reserved for faculty. Dealing with a parking ticket would be easier than tardiness.
Elaina raced across campus, her backpack bumping against her butt. The warm front had won against the invading cold front and sweat beaded her temple. Her phone dinged in her back pocket with a text from Heath.
Where R U?
In Dr. Pierce’s world, on time was late. Judging by the time on her phone, she was already two minutes late, which meant she was screwed.
Here, she responded.
She hoped to beat the message to Pierce’s office, but with three flights of stairs to climb and her lungs already burning from the sprint across campus, it was likely modern technology would win that race.
Elaina slowed to a fast walk three doors from her adviser’s office. Her heart raged against her chest, as much from the exhaustion of the run as well as the anticipation of Dr. Pierce’s anger.
It was already done, she was already late. Taking a second to inhale and get her breathing under control wouldn’t change his mood, but it would make her better able to receive it.
With her eyes closed, she stretched her arms out, lifting them high over her head as she slowly filled her lungs with calming breath, bringing her palms together and down in front of her face as she exhaled.
She took another deep breath, holding it in this time, listening as her blood slowed in her ears.
“I’m so glad you’re able to indulge in a moment of Zen, Ms. Adams, but let it be on someone else’s schedule. Not mine.”
Elaina’s eyes flew open at Dr. Pierce’s words. She glanced at his doorway just in time to see his wheelchair roll out of the frame.
Shit.
Dr. Pierce’s sanctum was a dark cavern of glowing computer monitors illuminating bookshelves bulging under the weight of textbooks. The consistent tinkling of an aquarium competed against the electrical hum of his equipment, and the occasional crackle of a weather radio.
“Sorry I’m late,” she mumbled, taking her usual seat at the small conference table.
The professor wrinkled his nose at her apology. “Mr. Bryant was just filling me in on the data you secured this weekend.”
Elaina met Heath’s sideways glanced. One side of her mouth turned up in an apologetic smile. Ever since their first class with the man, Dr. Pierce had intimidated Heath. He didn’t like meeting with their advisor alone, and let her do most of the talking.
“As you’ll see from the information on wind velocity, we didn’t capture anything new.” She cleared her throat, hoping to deepen her voice to give it the authoritative edge she needed. “What we did capture is some interesting points on tornado genesis. This little guy sprang up fast on a day when the watch level was relatively low. I think as we dig into this some more we may be able to see why this particular tornado dropped.”
Their advisor scratched the back of his head with his pen, nodding to himself as if considering each word. He pulled the pen from his wavy gray hair and clicked the end of it twice before making notes.
As one of the world’s foremost experts on tornados, Dr. Tom Pierce was regarded as a rock star among rock stars. He was handsome, charismatic, intelligent and passionate about the science of weather. After the car accident that’d stolen the use of his legs, he was more revered in the weather community, even if it meant he could no longer make it into the field.
Elaina often thought of him as the Wizard behind the curtain.
“Very good,” Dr. Pierce said to the notes. “Very good, indeed.” He looked up at them, his gray eyes reflecting the white-blue lights of the computer screens. “It’s going to be an active season. Actually…” He leaned over to the adjacent round table and plucked a sheet off a stack of papers. “I might have just the opportunity to help you further your research.”
Her heart hammered against her ribcage with the ferocity of a hailstorm. Word on the street was a new round of funding was available to study various aspects of tornado genesis. Elaina was just a lowly doctoral candidate, but she wanted some of that funding so badly she could taste the ozone of a forming storm.
A light smile tugged at her professor’s mouth. There was no doubt about it, Pierce enjoyed his hard-ass reputation, but he also thrived in seeing his students succeed. Especially the ones who worked the hardest. The ones who practiced equations until she could recite them in her sleep. The ones memorized the maps of all of the back roads in the central U.S. so she wouldn’t have to rely on cell signals. The ones who could look at all the radar models and tell exactly where a storm would drop.
“I’m sure you’re aware that some new funding—”
“Did we get it?” Her excitement bubbled over, cutting off her profess
or’s preamble.
The man chuckled. “Yes, Elaina, we secured funding for you and Heath to spend the spring out in the field.”
Her legs twitched, eager to run out the door and get to work. She gripped the edge of the chair, holding herself in place.
Dr. Pierce leveled a steely look on them both. The proud professor look was now gone, replaced by narrowed eyes and a pinched brow. “I don’t think I have to explain exactly how much is riding on this opportunity, for your futures and for the university.” His voice turned hard, sharp. “You play by the book out there. Always professional, always following the rules, and always on time.” The professor’s gaze lingered on her for so long, Elaina had to swallow back the ‘what?’ that crept up her throat.
“Mr. Bryant, thank you for being here on time. You may go. Ms. Adams, another minute if you will.”
Elaina’s heart somersaulted.
Heath gathered his papers and stood, pausing to look down at her, silently giving her a look that was equal parts apology and relief that it wasn’t him.
Dr. Pierce waited until the squish of her partner’s sneakers faded before speaking. “Elaina, do you want to tell me anything else about that tornado?”
This was the oldest trick in any parental handbook. A leading question with enough information to acknowledge that something happened, but open ended to allow the child to walk right into the web. Elaina had fallen into that trap numerous times with her mom. “Elaina, do you want to tell me why my skirt’s hanging from the basketball goal?” “Elaina, do you want to explain why my favorite vase is outside with hash marks up the side?” “Elaina, will you tell me what you’ve drawn all over the walls?”
Luckily, her mom had realized that all of her childhood hijinks were centered around trying to understand the weather, so she’d redirected her daughter before it’d gotten out of hand. No matter, that leading question always caused the tingling sensation of impending trouble to travel down her spine.
“Well, it was a classic EF1, thin tail, dropped and headed northeast.” She could feel her voice wobble like a spinning top losing its momentum.
Dr. Pierce rolled out from his spot across the table from her and wheeled himself beside her. “Look at my chair and now tell me about the tornado.” His tone was warm, sad and firm. It was more than just a run-of-the-mill car accident; it’d been a car accident during a chase.
Elaina didn’t know Dr. Pierce before the accident, but the murmurings in the field alluded to the fact he blamed the tornado rather than the oncoming car that’d hydroplaned and slammed into him. Some even said his study of tornados morphed from understanding and predicting them to trying to control them. To put an end to them.
She stared at his wilted legs. The looked like they belonged on a frame much smaller than his barrel chest and strong arms.
Dr. Pierce never asked anyone for assistance. That was part of his demands on his students for timeliness to meetings and class. If he, someone who took extra time getting in and out of his car, across campus and up the narrow elevator to his office could make it with time to spare, then any able-bodied student should have no trouble.
“That’ll show me for being late.” She attempted to laugh, but her throat closed up. “Heath told you.”
“He was worried about you.”
Her face warmed. Just because Heath was secretly afraid of the very storms they chased didn’t mean Elaina shared his fear. It was always there, this unspoken knowledge that she and tornados had a shared history.
As if the very formula that caused the air and moisture to roil around each other had created her. She’d always chalked it up to the same feelings of being unmoored that every adopted child felt. They’d just appeared out of nowhere, magically placed on earth.
“I took every precaution—”
“It doesn’t matter. There will always be another tornado. Equipment can be replaced. But you, you can’t be replaced.” Her advisor cleared his throat. “And thank God, there is only one of you.”
Elaina laughed and looked up from her hands into the eyes of her mentor. Dr. Pierce was the closest she’d come to having a father. As if sensing that need within her, he’d taken on that parental role outside of class.
Some of her peers gossiped, but there was nothing inappropriate between them. Even the father-figure moments had centered around her studies, it was just at a deeper level of friendship than with her other professors.
“Oh look at the time.” Dr. Pierce broke the bond by rolling back behind his overburdened desk. “If you’ll excuse me, I must scare some poor freshmen from making the unfortunate decision of declaring a meteorology major, and therefore causing me indigestion for the next three years.”
“What? You don’t want your ulcer to heal when I graduate, do you?”
She made it to the doorway before the professor called out. “Elaina, I can’t protect you out there. You know that, right?” His eyes glistened in the light of the computers, like ripples in the water.
“I promise, I’ll be careful.”
5
Heath waited for her outside the science building. “How bad was it?”
Elaina shook her head. “He’s the wrong person to confide a close call to.”
Her partner exhaled and his shoulders relaxed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to go behind your back. I was just worried because you were late and I was afraid you had a head injury or something.”
“I’m fine, just forgot to plug in my phone. Thank goodness Nim knew I had to get up.” She looked at her friend. The whoop that’d been building in her chest like a blossoming thunderhead was ready to erupt. “We’re funded!” Elaina shouted.
Heath met her cheer with his hand raised high, forcing her to jump for the high five.
The deep blue sky stretched out overhead, unblemished by clouds. Squirrels chased each other and darted through the feet of students quickly making their way to class. It was midterm time and the whole campus buzzed with a collective tension.
“That’s the shirt you got for Bobby Bumpus, isn’t it?”
Elaina smiled. “Only had to wear it every day for two weeks before he finally got the message.”
“Two weeks? It was either the shirt or the smell.”
“My clean clothes pile and dirty clothes pile are starting to look alike. This was hanging in the closet, so figured it was safe.” Her rental bungalow didn’t come with a washer or dryer, and rather than spend an afternoon at the Laundromat, she always used the excuse to visit her mom.
That memory of being under the debris nagged at her since the storm. It grew, the more she played it through her mind, the more the memory felt real.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re never this distracted.”
They stopped at her truck and Heath plucked the parking ticket from her windshield, looking it over before handing it to her.
“Serves you right for sleeping in. Chloe wanted me to see if you want to come over for dinner soon. She seems to think there’s a psychologist you need to meet.”
“Great, don’t know what’s worse, a guy trying to get into my pants or into my head.”
“Wear a dress, then you only have to worry about your head.” He jogged away from her, laughing at his joke.
When she slammed her truck door, her good luck charm, hanging from her rearview mirror, danced around the cab.
A child’s necklace, tarnished to a grayish-brown, the little ballerina swayed to a standstill. She couldn’t remember how long she’d had the necklace, or where it’d come from. The one time Elaina had asked her mom about it, she said she’d begged for it once at the store while going through the ballerina phase every little girl experienced.
The thing was, Elaina couldn’t remember it.
She had plenty of childhood memories, some vibrant and others dull. She’d always counted herself lucky, because her mom, Connie, had a way of making her feel like her childhood had been special. That no matter how many times she’d made a windsock out of her mother’s
skirt, or used a vase to measure rainfall, it was okay to be a kid.
Her drive home was less hurried. She rolled down the window, saving the precious Freon in her air conditioner for the summer. Many times she’d find herself slowing down by a car dealership, thinking that a new, or new to her, car would be worth the financial sacrifice. However, her line of work, buying something just to get beaten up by hail was a bad investment. Maybe one day, but until that time came, her faded brown truck would have to do.
Nim’s snout poking through the wooden slats on the front blinds greeted her as she walked up.
“Hey buddy, let’s call Mom and see if we can visit.”
The dog answered with a two-footed happy dance, his tongue hanging loosely from one side of his mouth.
“Hi, honey.” Connie answered on the second ring.
“Hey Mom, what’s up?”
Elaina listened to her mom share the latest gossip about her small-town neighbors and the perils of gardening while she scurried about her house bundling up dirty clothes.
“I was thinking I may come up and see you, spend a couple of days there,” she said during Connie’s first pause. “This looks like an active storm season so between that, my dissertation and work I don’t know when I’ll get to come home.”
“Of course, sweetheart. When are you thinking about coming?”
“I can head up there right now. You don’t mind if I bring Nimbus with me, do you? And, maybe a few things to throw in the washer?”
A few seconds passed before her mom spoke again. “Elaina, you should know by now, I am aware there are two things you always come home with, your dog and dirty laundry. See you in a couple of hours.”
The drive home was sacred. Sometimes she’d listen to the old radio until she’d run out of anything but farm reports and static. Then, she’d roll down the window and listen to the song of the wind.
Corn fields turned into towns, with names like Cotton and Wheat, named for the crop that drew people to the land, others had sorrowful names like Dead Women Crossing, and Arapaho that made her recall childhood lessons on the pain of her state’s history.
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