Chapter 13
Marian sees the last of the guests off, and afterward, she, Lauren, and Caleb hop into my truck. Caleb purchased one when he and Lauren returned here, but he’s curious about mine. I offered it to him for the drive to Denver, and I can’t see that he’ll switch over and want mine.
A truck is a truck, and it’s not like he’ll ever sit in the back often enough to gauge if my make and model actually has more legroom than it’s supposed to.
I’m not left with no transportation here at the bed-and-breakfast. Marian’s old pickup and Aubrey’s car remain here, as well as Caleb’s truck, but I feel stranded.
Aubrey has made herself scarce all afternoon and evening. She went to her room and hid there. I’m not sure what else I can call it. It feels a lot like she’s holing herself up in there. I’ve kind of grown accustomed to her avoiding me. I’m a quiet guy myself. Not a full-on hermit and introvert, but I prefer not to speak up unless I have to or really want to. Aubrey seemed to be coming more out of her shell around me since we spoke at the chalet, but after I flirted with her after golfing, I worry I’ve messed up big time.
I didn’t mean to hit on her so publicly, and it wasn’t like I did that in front of a crowd, anyway. It just slipped out. Calling her baby came naturally. It’s no excuse, and I’m relieved she didn’t seem mad about it, only surprised.
It just happened. It was a classic case of talking faster than I could think. Something about that moody woman just makes me want to say everything that comes to mind. I lose my sensor. I’m usually very guarded, but she is challenging me to shift from my standard behavior.
Dammit.
I putz around outside as the wind increasingly picks up. Without any guests, without my friend, without anyone around, I feel like I’m in time-out or something, grounded and separated from all of society. To pass time, I putt in the backyard. Every time I feel like someone is watching me, I peer up at the second floor, where Aubrey’s window is, and I just barely catch sight of her curtain falling back into place.
That’s my answer. She’s watching me. She’s curious. But she’s also hiding. I really screwed up this time, speaking my mind.
I shake my head and go inside when the rain comes. Toward nightfall, it worsens into a steady downpour. The rain doesn’t let up. The winds come harder, and before I know it, the power flickers. Then goes out entirely.
“Great.” I told Lauren we’d hold down the fort, but with the way the gusts batter at the outer walls, I wonder if I’ll need to literally secure the building before it blows off the mountainside.
Ha. Ha. So funny.
I pass the window, frowning at the storm as it picks up. In the kitchen, I find my phone and dial Caleb.
“Hey, man, the power just went out here.”
“Damn,” he replies. “I didn’t realize it was going to get this bad.”
I chuckle. “Who could? Even the weathermen never know for sure.”
“Well, there’re some candles in the kitchen until it comes back on.”
I furrow my brow as the precipitation falls in harsh sheets against the windowpane. “Not counting on that tonight. It’s raining hard, but I’ll keep an eye on everything.”
Just before I think to ask about any spots I should keep in mind for watching out for leaks, I hear a beep. I glance at my phone, seeing the reception has been lost. It’s iffy at times up here with any kind of cloud cover, so I’m not shocked it’s cut out now.
“That’s that, then,” I mutter to myself.
After I find the candles in the kitchen, I light one and head upstairs. I hope Aubrey isn’t afraid of storms. Because if she is, and she’s extra determined to avoid me, I won’t be able to offer her any semblance of comfort. And I realize then and there as I approach her door that I don’t like the idea of her being uncomfortable or intimidated.
Easy there. No need to add hero worship into the mess.
I knock on the door and wait for her reply. It’s delayed, and I can almost feel her hesitation hanging in the air. It’s not a sense of suspense, but a warning of disappointment I somehow know is coming my way.
“Aubrey?” I call out.
“What?”
“Power’s out.”
“Really. I hadn’t noticed.”
I roll my eyes. “Come on downstairs.” Please. I should add that, but she’s so recalcitrant, I don’t want to. What you give is what you get. If she’s going to be snobby with me, I’ll give it right back to her.
“Caleb told me where the candles are. I lit a few.”
“Good job.”
I grit my teeth at her snark.
“Can’t you come down—”
“I’m fine, Dalton.”
I glower at her door, doubting that. Anyone who says they’re fine is often the opposite.
I refuse to fight a losing battle though. I sigh and turn to go back down. Have it your way then.
While deep down, I’m reluctant to leave her there in the dark, I busy myself with lighting more candles and starting a fire in the fireplace in the biggest living room. I’m not worried about staying warm. Humidity from the storm hangs in the air and likely will until the cold front comes all the way through with the storm. Done with a false stint of pyromania and satisfied I’ve got things as bright as I can, I fumble with the radio I found in a cupboard. Eventually, I get it working and find a station. The broadcast announces a big storm is ripping through the area. We should expect road closures and flash floods, too.
Great. That’s just great. Nothing about facing a storm is relaxing or fun.
Now that I’m informed and can no longer preoccupy myself with how long this weather might last and how bad it’s predicted and forecast to get, I quickly get bored.
Aubrey remains upstairs, so I wander, poking and prodding at this and that. I try to lose myself in a book, but I can’t follow the plot. I walk around some more and end up in the kitchen. I don’t want to mess with Marian’s “system” but I am hungry. I’m aware of how meticulous she is about arranging and organizing her things in this sacred room, so after I make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for myself—and also set one aside for Aubrey in case she leaves her room later—I double-check that I’ve stowed everything away as tidily as I found it.
Just when I replace the loaf of bread in the bag and set it inside the old-timey bread box, a loud crash rocks the earth. It booms outside. The house shudders, and as I freeze, riding out the vibration, knickknacks dance and fall off the shelves in the room.
“What the hell?”
Did lightning hit the house? I run outside, in the direction of where the noise came from. Rain pelts me hard, and I squint to see through the darkness of the storm. Right outside the back door, a tree lies on the soaked grass Lauren mows so carefully. The bark is split on the mighty trunk. Black charred scratches trace the cut in the wood, and I realize it wasn’t the house that got struck by lightning, but this enormous tree.
I gasp in amazement and fear. Wind whips at me furiously as I take in how close of a call that was. If that tree had swayed just slightly to the east, it would have smashed into the house like a hammer cutting down through the air. The kitchen I just ate in would’ve been pounded and pulverized into bits.
I’ve never come this close to a life-or-death situation, and it sobers me. Mere feet stand between me and the tree that could have ended me. Branches sway in the wind, and its leaves fling off with the force of nature still picking at it.
“Dalton!”
I turn slowly at the sound of Aubrey’s voice. Shielding my face, I hold my hand above my eyes to see her. I find her back there, standing at the doorway to the kitchen. She hugs herself as she furrows her brow, staring at me with disapproval.
“What the hell are you doing?” she shouts above the chaos of the storm. “Get inside!”
I lick my lips, careful with what I want to reply. I can’t blurt out whatever comes to mind. This is the first time she’s reached out to me, and I won’t screw it up.
“You’re going to get struck by lightning!”
I step closer so she’ll hear me. “I’ll come inside only if you’ll hang out with me!”
Shit. So much for thinking before speaking.
“What!”
“You heard me.”
She scoffs and shakes her head. I see her mouth moving as she mumbles to herself. I’m sure it’s a colorful litany of scorn for me. Then she lifts her hand to open the door further, holding it open for me.
I bite back a grin and sprint toward shelter.
And her.
I don’t like the fact that I’ve forced her hand, but I’ll let the guilt come later.
I’ll make it up to her one way or another because this distance between us has gone on too damn long.