15. Gale
Gale
The older monuments were my favorite, their time-faded writing nearly illegible, their stories long forgotten.
I crouched, a dozen or more feet from the winding cemetery road, and framed the shot to capture a peaceful landscape dotted with crumbling granite markers, mature trees, and lush grass.
Ribbons of hazy light patterned the ground, giving the air a gauzy glow.
The day was overcast, but it wasn’t without depth.
My photographer’s eye caught every nuance, and the shot was perfectly moody.
Burial stones weren’t my typical muse, but the calming essence of a cemetery was exactly what I needed.
The presence of God was strong here, but why wouldn’t it be?
I’d never considered how calming such a location might be for my soul.
With the turmoil I’d suffered this past week, it was exactly what I needed.
I had reconnected with my sister the previous evening.
After lecturing me for an hour, Olivia ended the conversation by telling me to call my father and get to Kansas.
I had yet to do the former. My armor was paper-thin where Dad was concerned.
I wasn’t ready to confront him, even though I knew without a doubt that he’d never bring up the photograph or ask what it meant that I was taking pictures of attractive young men amidst a raging thunderstorm.
Before my escape, I had promised Olivia I’d watch the growing storm cell over Kansas and report back if I suspected potential activity.
Even while camped near Palo Duro Canyon, I’d followed through on that promise.
After five days of radio silence, photographing nature and monitoring the weather, I’d faithfully called Olivia the instant the system over Kansas became noteworthy.
Instead of thanking me, I’d gotten an earful, but that was Olivia.
She overwhelmed me on a good day. To say she was pissed was an understatement.
Her lecture had been threaded with concern, sure, but she didn’t come right out and say she was worried.
We were twins after all. The threads that bound us together were woven deep into our DNA.
They reduced the need for verbal language.
My sister might have been bold and brash and a bit self-centered, but she loved me to death and would go to war for me.
The thing was, she expected the same in return, and I was a coward, not a fighter.
Olivia didn’t need me for my forecasting abilities—her team had been doing fine on their own for years.
What they needed was a fifth person. My absence this past week put them at risk of elimination.
Charles had been hounding them for videos, but everything they handed him showed a team of four, not five, and their excuses would only take them so far. Another thing to feel guilty about.
Applying a different filter and adjusting a few settings, I snapped another picture and was about to stand when the sound of someone approaching caught my attention.
The cemetery had been quiet all afternoon.
I’d seen a few people visiting distant monuments, but mostly I’d enjoyed solitude.
In the older section, where even the deceased’s relatives had long ago left the earth, I hadn’t come across a single living soul.
Until now.
I glanced toward the winding cemetery road as a figure approached. My muscles instantly stiffened, and the hairs along my nape stood at attention. Not a random stranger visiting a grave or a person out for a stroll, but Ozrik Devereaux, whose entire focus was on me.
I was three hundred miles from home in a random cemetery in a nothing town. How was he possibly here? Was I dreaming?
His purposeful walk said this wasn’t a chance encounter.
He was on a mission, and what that mission was, I could only guess, but it clearly involved me.
Even Olivia didn’t know I was in Newton yet.
She had demanded my attendance and given me an address for a hotel where I was meant to meet the team, but I’d stopped corresponding after I left the canyon. She didn’t know if I was coming or not.
I stood as Ozrik closed the distance. The man had the swagger and confidence of a rock star, and it was impossible not to cower in his shadow.
He had intimidation down to an art. He wore an ordinary white tank top and rugged jeans.
Still, he somehow made the outfit look like a fashion statement worthy of Vogue.
Dark hair stood out against his tanned arms. His skin glowed despite the wan light bleeding through the canopy of leaves overhead.
His hair, perpetually wind-whipped, had a glossy sheen.
I’d imagined a thousand times what it might feel like to run my fingers through it.
The devilish gleam that usually shone in his eyes was absent, replaced with… concern?
“Have you talked to Olivia?” He stopped at the edge of the road, a dozen or so paces away. “She called me yesterday. Was looking for you.”
Did he and Olivia talk on the phone? Was that common? Olivia had seemed unaffected by my comment the other day when I’d mentioned Ozrik’s possible crush. Rather, she had laughed and called it ridiculous. Bad-mouthed and insulted him, but was she deflecting? Were they friends? More than friends?
A knot pulled in my belly.
I glanced between the headstones, unable to hold his gaze.
Ozrik and Olivia. It shouldn’t have hurt, but it did.
I supposed they would make a good couple.
Both had bold and fiery personalities. Olivia didn’t know about my uncomfortable crush.
No one did. Except maybe Dad, but that was a confession I would take to the grave, and he would never ask for confirmation.
It wasn’t like I’d ever do something about these feelings. What could I do? Ozrik would probably laugh me out of town. Or beat me up. Regardless, I would shrivel and die.
“Hey. Did you hear me?”
“I called her yesterday evening.”
“Good. Is she here? In Newton?”
“Yes. I-I told her to come. She’s at a hotel with the team.” I shifted my weight. “Are you looking for her? I’m meeting up with them eventually. I can pass along a message.”
I didn’t want to. Facilitating a connection between my sister and Ozrik pained me. Besides, if they had talked once, why didn’t he call her again? Or text? I didn’t want to be a go-between.
“No message.”
The heat of his gaze was too much. I scrambled for something to say but came up empty.
“What are you doing out here?” Ozrik glanced among the stones as though searching for answers.
I stared at the camera, hanging by a strap around my neck. “Taking pictures.”
Avoiding a crowded hotel room where I’ll be expected to mingle and chat and perform with people who don’t want me around, I wanted to add, but didn’t.
“Of gravestones?”
I shrugged. “Why not?”
“It’s a little morbid.”
“Not really.” I couldn’t explain to Ozrik how photography grounded me, brought me closer to God, and had replaced church. I couldn’t explain how finding a spiritual connection of any kind was important since leaving the seminary. How without it, I was a lost ten-year-old boy again.
Our gazes caught.
Ozrik smiled, and my belly swooped.
I darted my gaze to the ground and tried not to blush, which was impossible.
What was happening?
“H-how did you know I was here?” My voice unattractively croaked.
“The guys and I are at the Comfort Inn across the street.” He thumbed over his shoulder toward the main road. “I noticed a neon green Jeep in the parking lot and thought… What are the chances?”
“Oh. Yeah. It’s… bright.” Dig a hole and bury me alive. Why did everything I say come out sounding stupid?
Ozrik’s devilish smile grew. “It’s like a highlighter.”
On purpose, I didn’t say. A loud vehicle for such a meek man made no sense.
It drew unwanted attention when I worked so hard to go unnoticed, but I camped often and traveled into the wilderness alone.
The Jeep packed nicely, and because it called attention to itself and acted like a beacon, if I was ever in trouble, it would make me easy to find.
“I assume you’re tracking the storm?” Ozrik glanced at the canopy overhead. The sky was obscure beyond the dense leaves.
I nodded. “Why else would I be here?”
Another grin. “You’re not much of a conversationalist, are you?”
“Oh.” Was he trying to make conversation? “N-no. Not usually. I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry a lot.”
I almost apologized for apologizing but stopped myself in time.
Ozrik studied the faded monuments, then searched the canopy above. “What are they called again?”
“What?” I followed his gaze but had no idea what he was talking about. “What are what called?” I expected he was referring to a bird or some type of insect.
“The clouds. You can’t see them under here. It’s like a gauzy filter is covering the sun. It’s patchy in spots. It has a proper name. I can never remember.”
“Oh. Altostratus.”
“That’s it.”
“They often signal larger storm systems moving into an area in the next twelve to twenty-four hours.”
Ozrik nodded. “Altostratus.” He said the word a few times as though committing it to memory.
“Also, altocumulus.”
Ozrik tipped his head. “Alto—What now?”
“Cumulus. Altocumulus. It’s a mix of both today. That happens often. By tomorrow, midday, I bet we see cumulus congestus.”
“Those are the cauliflower-type ones, right?”
“Yes, or pre-storm clouds, if you will.”
He snapped his fingers and ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “Then… cumulonimbus, right? The ones that tower.”
I grinned. “Yes. Indicating severe storms and possible tornadic activity.”
“Bingo! Exactly what we’re hoping for. You’re pretty smart, Gale.”
I shrugged. “Four years of school.” And no life, I didn’t say.
“Olivia’s lucky to have you on her team.”
“Not really. She doesn’t need my knowledge any more than you do. I bet you can predict a tornado as well as I can. Probably with more accuracy since you have so much practical experience.”