None of which Elaina could do.
Her black dress absorbed the heat of the sun. She could’ve joined the rest of the procession under the tent, but she wasn’t welcome there. No one called with details about the arrangements. Not Chloe, or Harry or even Dr. Pierce.
She’d only discovered where the graveside service was to be held by stalking the obituaries in the paper. The side-eye glances told her they knew she was there, even if she hid behind a dress and oversized sunglasses.
Dr. Pierce sat at the end of the front row. Even with his back to her, she could feel him watching her, scowling at her.
Her legs twitched, eager to carry her over to the tent, into the heart of the service, interrupting a prayer about how Heath was no longer in pain; to confront their former advisor.
This was his fault. He’d driven them to it. Pushed them beyond their limits. Propelled them into the path of a deadly storm.
Tom Pierce deserved to be in that grave, not her best friend.
If she had any emotional energy, she’d tell him that. For now, all she could do was stare at a closed casket hovering over a hole in the ground and pray she’d wake up.
“Well, I guess it’s not your body in there.”
Elaina jumped at Seth’s voice. “That’s a hell of an opening line.” She grimaced. The words came out much harsher than she’d expected. “Sorry, I meant to text you back.”
“Nah, think nothing of it. I’m sure you’ve been busy.”
She glanced at him from the side of her shades. He was dressed in a black suit, with a pewter gray shirt underneath, tieless with the collar open, aviator sunglasses hiding his eyes. A bead of sweat escaped his temple and slipped down the side of his face.
“You doing okay?” he whispered during a prayer.
“Nope,” she said to her feet. As much as she craved human interaction, she also wanted to cloister herself away. Away from anyone she could hurt, anyone she could love. Anyone who would leave her.
“That was a dumb question. Of course you’re not okay.” He looked away as he spoke. “You’re far from okay. I mean you’re alive, so you’re better than Heath, I guess.”
Elaina used his aimless mumbling as a chance to slip away. The service was coming to a close. The last thing she wanted to see was her friend’s casket being lowered into the ground, to have to face his family, their friends. Dr. Pierce.
She’d almost made it to her truck when she heard graveling crunching behind her.
“Hey,” Seth said, a bit breathless as he jogged. “Sorry, I don’t know what to say. There’s no manual for this.” His face was pinched in sadness. For Heath, but most likely for her.
She should’ve texted him, to let him know what’d happened, but somehow, not saying the words, not breathing life into the fracture in her heart, in her spirit, would prevent it from being true. That the fewer people who knew Heath had died, the less real it was.
“I know. Trust me, I looked for one.”
A shuffling of bodies drew her attention back to the ending service. People would start filing up the road, going back to whatever was left of their lives.
What was going to be her new normal? Her studies and career, gone. Her dog, would most likely become terrified of storms. Her mom…That was her next stop, to meet with the doctors to see how Connie was doing.
“Want to grab lunch?”
“I’ve got to go.” Elaina spoke over him and instantly felt guilty. “Maybe a raincheck.” She backed the final few steps and pulled open her truck door. “Get it. Storm chasers. Raincheck?”
Seth gave her a soggy smile. Not his usual bright one, but a smile doused in rejection. “Yeah, I get it.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away, his usually squared shoulders hunched forward.
“Jokes at a funeral. Crappy idea, Elaina,” she mumbled as she started her truck. “I bet you got it.” She glanced up, hoping wherever Heath was, he found her corny attempt at humor endearing.
She arrived at the hospital an hour before the doctor was scheduled to stop by her mom’s room.
Even though it’d only been a couple of days since she’d seen her mom last, the woman seemed different. Deflated. Her color was better; not quite her normal rosy tint, but a faded peach was a step up from the ashen gray from when she was first taken in.
Elaina stroked her mom’s straight, white hair. It’d gotten longer, drier. “I’ll bring some leave-in conditioner next time.” She reached for the lotion on the tray and lathered on her own hands before reaching for Connie’s arm, rubbing the excess on her dry skin. “Heath’s funeral was today.” The lump in her throat threatened to strangle her. “There were a lot of people. Hanging out way in the back gave me the perfect view.” She paused, watching her mom’s face for any reaction. “Nim’s still at the vet. He had some internal bruising so they wanted to keep an eye on him. The doctor said he’ll be fine.”
She moved to the other side of the bed, rubbing lotion on Connie’s left arm. “I saw her. My, um, mother. The woman who birthed me. It felt like I was looking in a mirror. Maybe I was, maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe none of this is. Maybe I created one giant mess because I’m messed up, like Chloe said.” Elaina cleared her throat and looked up at the white tile ceiling. “I don’t know if I should go out again, to see what else I can pull from my memories, or, if I should just hide from it all before I lose someone else.” She sniffed and placed her mom’s hand gently back on the bed. “You’d know what to do. I just wish you could tell me.”
A trio of voices filled the hallway. Their low level murmurs not making words, just sounds.
Dr. Parker entered the room, followed by a doctor who looked like his mom drove him to work every day, and the harried nurse who was there so often Elaina suspected she lived at the hospital.
“Ms. Adams, it’s good to see you.”
She wiped her clammy palm on her dress before shaking his outstretched hand. “When is she going to wake up?” No sense wasting time on mundane topics, like how she’s doing, or it’s going to be another hot one, or explain why she looked like she just came from a funeral.
The doctor exhaled a heavy sigh and motioned for her to sit while he perched on the foot of the bed. It was the classic one leg up, one leg anchored to the floor. A casual, we’re-in-this-together gesture.
Elaina had seen that posture so many times, it must be taught in med school.
“That’s actually what I want to talk about.” He frowned and furrowed his brow.
She glanced down at her mom, not wanting to see whatever bad news the doctor wore on his face.
“Connie’s out from under the meds keeping her in the coma.” Dr. Parker let the words hang there several seconds before adding, “We stopped giving them to her three days ago.”
Hope cleared the clouds over her heart. “So she’ll be waking any minute now, right?”
The doctor flashed her a weak smile, and the nurse made a sad grunt, but no one answered her.
“Actually,” said the younger doctor. “If she’s going to wake up, she would’ve done it within hours of us stopping the drugs.”
If.
Two letters put together to form a word that pierced Elaina’s heart with the same blunt force of the stake through her friend’s body.
“What do you mean?” Her voice sounded small in her own ears.
Dr. Parker cut a hard look to his colleague before adjusting his face back to a look of confident compassion. “Everyone’s different, Elaina. So just because something should’ve happened, doesn’t mean it won’t. But really, we’ve done all we can for your mom.” He shifted his gaze down to her the woman who raised her. “It’s up to Connie to wake up.”
Whatever the doctor said next floated by her ears without sinking in. Something about watching her carefully, brain scans, for Elaina to talk to her. The nurse checked her vitals, chirped that her mother was a strong woman, she had a good heart, steady blood pressure.
Outside her room, she heard Dr. Parker bark at th
e young resident about his lack of bedside manner.
Really, Elaina didn’t mind. As much as she needed coddling, she also wanted the truth, no matter how painful it was.
She chewed on her fingernails. Chewed on an idea. Maybe the doctors were right. The drugs were stopped a long time ago. Everyone was different.
Elaina pulled up the national models on her phone. Searched across the country for any sign of atmospheric instability. A high and low pressure system looked to be on a collision course over northeastern Nebraska.
If Elaina was going to wake up to the truth of who she was, where she’d come from, and the meaning of the memories, it was up to her.
40
Getting ready for the chase was both the easiest and the hardest.
Elaina itched to text Heath, to remind him what to bring.
He wouldn’t answer. Wouldn’t bring anything.
Her eyes fell to the empty food and water bowl on her kitchen floor. Her house felt lifeless without Nim. Her bed was cold without his warm Lab body nestled next to hers. Her days were empty without taking him for walks, or scratching his ears as she walked from one room to the next.
She’d already planned to stop in Kansas to pick him up on her way home, but that felt so far away. In time and distance.
Elaina stood in her living room. Even though nothing had changed in her house, enough had changed in her life to make the space feel foreign. Could a person change to a point where she outgrew her own place? Her life?
Whether she never got the answers she craved, never finished her dissertation, or if her mom never woke up, she was telling her old life goodbye.
One way or another, when she came back to her little house, she’d be a different person.
She locked her front door, sealing away the past. But not throwing away the key. She might have to come back and visit it at some point.
It was late afternoon when she hit the road driving north. If she drove straight through she’d pull into Lincoln, Nebraska before midnight. The storm chaser channels on the radio were alive with chatter about this next outbreak. Some even thought it would be bigger than the storms that hit Kansas. That’d taken Heath.
Elaina thought she heard Tuck on the radio a couple of times, but she didn’t dare call out to him. Not after dinner, after he’d told her she was unfit for the field.
She pulled off the interstate, needing to refill her truck and hit a bathroom, but a bright blue SUV sitting next to its companion satellite truck forced her back onto the road, hoping both her gas tank and bladder would hold out a little bit longer.
The motel she’d picked had no hail-beaten cars, no SUVs with radio antenna reaching toward the heavens, no Forecast Channel vans and no maroon Tuck’s Tornado Tours vans. As far as the old man at the front desk knew, she was simply a young woman in need of a room for the night.
Morning came before she was ready to face it. Tornado warnings already lit up the map on her laptop. The barometric pressure had dropped substantially and the humidity was shooting way up. Thunderheads bloomed around her like a field of spring flowers.
Tuck leaned against the driver’s side door of her truck, wearing his uniform cargo shorts and Tuck’s Tours T-shirt. He cleaned his fingernails with the point of his pocketknife. His mouth worked over a toothpick. “Thought I told you to stay indoors,” he said without looking up at her.
She ignored him and tossed her backpack in the passenger seat.
“How’s Nimbus?” Tuck asked.
Elaina paused at his question. For the months she’d known him, she’d seen about every side of him.
The teller of tall tales. The demanding boss. The slacker who couldn’t beg his way out of a paper bag.
She’d never seen this side of him. A man who showed genuine concern.
“He’s going to be fine. Had some bruising on his spleen so the vet kept him to make sure it didn’t rupture. I’m picking him up on my way home.”
Tuck nodded and put away his knife. “Look, Moo-Moo, I can’t say I understand what you’re going through, but you have no business being out here by yourself.”
“Well, I’m not getting anyone else hurt.” She stood in front of him. “Do you mind? I want to go ahead and get on the road.”
He looked over her head and squinted up at the sky. His hands found his pockets and jiggled the change. “Could be the last outbreak of the spring.”
“Yeah, I know, that’s why I don’t want to miss it.”
His gaze found hers. Unreadable eyes studied her, causing her to shiver under the warm morning sun. “I’ve got a pretty big group today. Could use an extra set of hands.”
Elaina sighed and shook her head. “I appreciate all you did for me, for Heath and Nimbus, but I’m not working for you, Tuck. Not today. This storm is about me. About what I need to find about myself.”
“You need someone watching your back.” The man pushed off her truck and brushed past her. “Let me do that for you.”
She watched him cross the parking lot to the motel next door.
A large group was gathered around his vans. From what she could tell, the people were a mishmash of all the tornado tourists she’d met over the spring.
A few retirees chatted with Cub Scout dads, keeping an eye on their small wards. A cluster of people nervously took pictures of the sky and each other, flashing peace signs with wary smiles.
Tuck was unlike anyone she’d met in the field. Brash, careless, and indisputably the best at reading the sky.
“Here’s the deal,” she shouted after him.
He paused, but didn’t turn around.
“I’ll follow in my truck. I’m not taking anyone’s picture or getting anyone a drink. I’m not on the clock. I’ll watch the models and the sky and help with that. But this is my chase. Okay?”
“Anything else, princess?” he said over his shoulder.
“Yeah.” A bead of sweat tickled her temple and her heart pumped with the ferocity of a hailstorm. “Stay the hell out of my way.”
41
Seth never wanted to see another cornfield. Or another dirt road. He marveled at how a country so big and vast could end up looking the same. Interstate after interstate. Roadside diner after roadside diner. Motel room after motel room.
Why couldn’t tornados pick a more picturesque part of the country to touch down? Would it kill a storm to break near the Rockies?
They could happen anywhere, after all. It felt like they kept picking the most mundane locales to annoy him.
He and Rick positioned their vans at the edge of a field. Pancake flat landscape welcomed them, taunted with its sameness from the last outbreak.
Is this how rock stars felt? Same concert different arena, but really every arena looked the same.
The sky ahead of them was bruised an ugly yellowish-black. Clouds churned, like in a pressure cooker, but they refused to pick up any real rotation.
Cars rushed by. Many of them fellow chasers, moving closer to the epicenter of the frontal boundary. Two maroon vans flew past him, followed by a beat-up, rusty brown truck.
Seth grabbed his driver from the back seat, twirling the golf club in his fingers while he rummaged for a bag of cheap balls. He hoped the farmer wouldn’t mind a few golf balls in his crop.
He dropped a ball and took a couple of practice swings before stepping up to the tee, launching the ball into the thick black storm clouds with a satisfying plink.
No matter how hard he tried to focus on the storm and golf balls, his mind kept shifting back to Elaina.
How alone she’d looked at her friend’s funeral. Discarded to the side, no one inviting her to share her grief. The fact she was able to stand upright proved she had more strength in her body than he had in his big toe.
But why was she out there? And, most importantly, what was she doing back with Tuck?
He pulled his phone from his back pocket and shot her a text. Have a good chase.
Now she knew that he knew she was out there.
His phone buzzed.
Thanks. You too. Be careful, she texted back.
He smiled, telling himself not to read too much into those five words, especially after her multiple brush-offs. The girl went from hot to cold faster than the weather changing in Texas.
Seth hit another five balls, but his attention kept getting pulled to the three cars off by themselves.
Everyone else lined the road they were on. Sure, Tuck was a lone wolf known for getting in better position than any other chaser. The man had no problem taunting the devil, sticking his tongue at all him, blowing raspberries, daring the demon to catch him if he can.
Seth didn’t care if the devil gripped Tuck by the throat and squeezed the life out of him.
He wasn’t letting the man drag Elaina to Hell with him.
Seth folded his arms across his chest and watched a crowd gather around the maroon vans. A solitary figure stood to the side. If he squinted, he could almost make out her clinched fists held at her sides, her hair braided down her back.
“Hey, radar’s showing rotation.” His cameraman broke his contemplation. “Really, tight, too. This one’s going to be awesome. Wanna go live?”
“Sure.” He shoved the golf club in the SUV and pulled on his Forecast Channel rain slicker.
Rick set up the camera, while Seth pulled out the microphone and stuck the earpiece in his ear. A talk back with the station would be an exercise in futility with the roar of the twister behind him.
He checked the radar one more time. The hook was much more defined. It’d only be a few seconds before the twister would emerge.
Seth looked out over the field.
Tuck’s group was closer to where it would touch down, but they were positioned behind it. The people on his tour would get a good adrenalin rush, but with as much danger as walking through a haunted house filled with actors, a scary soundtrack and rattling chains.
Vortex Page 25