Chapter Seven #2
I nodded. He took one end and I took the other.
The blanket was wet and heavy and it was tough to maneuver it over the tree.
I was too short to be able to tie it from the ground, so I hopped up onto the bed.
It felt like I was wrestling an alligator as the wind kept smacking the sodden blanket back into my face.
“Here.” Simon tied his end then came around the bed to my side. He reached over me to fasten the corner of the quilt around the curtain rod. His chest was pressed against my back and I tried to focus on the crisis at hand and not the warmth of his body against mine.
“That should do it.” His voice was low and deep and just inches from my ear.
I nodded and he backed up, giving me room to hop off the bed. Together, we tucked the end of the blanket around the tree and into the bottom of the sill.
We repeated the task on the second window with another blanket from the bed.
This part of the tree branch was smaller so it was easier to maneuver the blanket around it.
As soon as we stepped back, Simon gestured to me to lead the way out of the room.
He shut the door behind us once we were on the landing.
“That’ll have to do for now.”
“How does a tree javelin its way through two windows?” I glanced down and noticed that I was once again soaking wet. It was beginning to feel like a permanent condition.
“It could have been a microburst or a baby tornado.”
“Tornado?” I yelped and ran for the stairs. There was a tornado and I’d left Dude alone? I was a terrible dog mom. “Dude! I’m coming!”
When I reached the first floor I hurried to the lump that was my dog. A quick peek inside his fort and I could see he was still there, shivering and with his paws over his eyes. I reached in to pet him but he was inconsolable and would be until the storm had passed.
I felt Simon hovering behind me so I turned around and said, “He’s all right. He’ll be fine once it’s over.”
As if Mother Nature was mocking me, the interior of the house became almost blackout dark as the storm seemed to have stalled over us, and our meager shelter was relentlessly buffeted by the wind and rain.
A banging noise sounded and I wondered if the tree upstairs had been jostled loose. It sounded closer than that.
I remembered opening the shutters when I’d arrived and figured one of them must have gotten loose. I pointed to the dining room.
“I think that noise is one of the shutters I opened yesterday. Can you sit with Dude? I don’t want to leave him alone in case he freaks out.”
“I can check the window,” Simon offered.
“I think I know which one it is,” I said. “Also, Dude might feel better with a bigger person beside him.”
“Permission to cross the line?” He quirked up an eyebrow and pointed to the tape.
“Granted.”
Simon sat on the floor beside Dude. He leaned in and talked to my boy, describing the tree that had gone through two windows upstairs.
Dude took his paw off his eyes just long enough to let out a long high-pitched complaint about the storm, then he licked Simon’s wrist and covered his head with his paws again.
Simon smiled at me just as the shutter started to slam against the side of the house in earnest.
“Be right back.” I hurried across the room.
It sounded like the third window. I threw up the sash and the rain pelted me through the screen, pushed by the fierce wind.
I raised the screen and reached outside to grab the shutter.
The wind tried to rip it out of my rain-slick fingers, but I didn’t let go and managed to latch it more firmly this time.
I quickly lowered the window, figuring I could deal with the screen tomorrow.
I grabbed a towel out of the linen closet to dry off my face and dab my clothes as best as I could before I used it to mop the floor. I returned to the living room to find Dude half out of his fort with his upper torso lying across Simon’s lap and his head wedged between Simon’s side and his arm.
“Don’t let his astraphobia fool you. He really is a ferocious watchdog,” I said.
“Astraphobia?”
“Fear of thunderstorms.”
“Ah, of course.”
I took Simon’s seat in the armchair. The room was getting darker by the minute. I reached over to switch on the lamp. Nothing happened.
“Nuts.”
“Power is still out?” he asked.
“Looks like it.” I tried to turn on the television with the remote. Nothing. “Confirmed.”
“This happens every summer,” Simon said.
“You’ve been here before?”
“Not here specifically. I grew up in Raleigh, and we spent our summer vacations on the Carolina shore, up until…” He paused. “Until we didn’t.”
I wondered what he’d been about to say.
“Is that why you have that North Carolina drawl?” I asked. “You were born here?”
“Yeah.” He nodded.
I did not add that it was an extremely attractive drawl because that would be inappropriate at best and extremely awkward at worst given that we were virtual strangers sharing a house.
But it was. I particularly liked the way he said “Dude.” It came out low and deep and with an extra syllable wedged in there.
Judging by Dude’s current imitation of a weighted lap blanket, he liked it, too.
“I have some camping lanterns in my van,” I said. “When the storm eases up, I’ll go get them. For now, I’ll check the kitchen for a source of flame.” I gestured to the candle on the coffee table. It would have to do.
I used the light from my phone to see inside the drawers, where I found some matches from a local bar. I returned to the living room and lit the fat white pillar candle. It gave off the scent of fresh linen and I smiled. Pops’s house in Rhode Island had always smelled like that.
I sat on the floor on the other side of the table. The flame flickered, highlighting Simon’s sharp cheekbones and strong brow. He should have looked demonic in this light, instead he was melt-a-gal’s-undershorts hot, because of course he was. I glanced away.
“I have a question,” Simon said. His big square hand was making lazy circles on Dude’s back.
“Fire away.” I gestured to the storm outside. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere.”
“Why did you think I was an attorney?” He sounded appalled.