What the Storms Say

1

Birdsong Hills, Australia.

Camila

I never thought I’d see the golden hue of these meadows again, or the shadows dancing in the breeze, or this damned road leading straight to the hills.

A place that’s been etched into my memories—and the occasional nightmare—for the past ten years.

It’s been an eternity—long enough for me to have forgotten the scent of nature and wet earth.

But no. As soon as I roll down the window of my Toyota Land Cruiser—affectionately nicknamed Viento, though right now it looks more like a mud monster—the smell hits me full force.

The wheels are caked in mud from the last storm—the very reason for my “disgraceful” return—and the views unfolding before me slap me with reality: it feels as if I’d never left.

“It’s still just as beautiful…” I murmur to myself.

It’s part of the job: sometimes I spend so much time alone that I even talk to the dashboard.

I swallow hard as I take the last turn leading up to the estate.

This is the place where I grew up and where I was supposed to spend the rest of my life.

But now that my parents have retired to twiddle their thumbs in their spectacular house in New South Wales, I have the ridiculous feeling that this place no longer has a single ounce of the Bennet spirit left in it.

At least, not until I spot the rooftops in the distance. The stables, the pastures… And—bam!—memories wash over me one after another, without mercy. Suddenly, a chill runs down my arms so intensely that I slam on the brakes.

“Damn it!” I exclaim, adjusting my breasts after nearly choking myself on the steering wheel.

I watch my hands tremble. I take a deep breath because I feel like I’m running out of air.

All around me, the idyllic landscape begins to turn stormy gray, and an alarm goes off in my head, as if the sky were about to collapse on Viento all over again.

I take a breath, count to ten, and give myself a mental slap.

“Come on, snap out of it. Coming back wasn’t a bad idea. You’re the fucking queen of meteorology and the only one who can figure out what the hell is going on here,” I proudly tell myself. I take three deep breaths and slam my foot on the gas pedal.

I race across the hills in the blink of an eye and pass through the gated entrance. The huge sign welcoming me reads “Birdsong Hills.” It’s been painted a gorgeous hunter green, and that makes me smile. Especially when I think of the person responsible for that wonderful decorative idea.

But my smile lasts less than a piece of candy at a school gate.

Because thinking about the Calloway family—and specifically Elijah, my ex-husband—brings on a wave of guilt and regret that stays with me all the way to the guesthouses.

“My goodness, what a sight.” There used to be nothing here but cows, flies, and pastureland, and now it looks like a five-star country hotel.

A veritable empire that fell into the hands of the aunt and the family’s youngest daughter after Elijah’s sudden death.

Thinking about the Calloways’ string of tragedies breaks my heart.

“And you,” I reproach myself, “did nothing but rub salt in the wound.”

Just wait and see how they welcome me.

The first face to greet me as I park is Albert’s, the foreman.

He’s as wrinkled as a raisin, but he still has those blue eyes that seem to X-ray your soul.

His loyalty to the Calloways is almost a religion.

And considering what I did… well, the last thing I expect is for him to welcome me with confetti and a shot of tequila.

Even less so when the Meteorological Institute warned them at the last minute that I was the one coming.

“Camila Bennet. I never would’ve thought I’d see you around here again,” he blurts out as soon as I turn off the engine and plant my boot on the ground.

“Call me Cam, Bert. You’ve known me since I was in diapers,” I say with my best “please don’t hate me” smile.

Not a single muscle in his face moves. In fact, he goes even stiffer than a pole. He’s pissed. Okay, who isn’t in this zip code? I swallow hard, exhale all the air from my lungs, and decide to put on my “professional and empowered woman” mask.

“Has the Institute brought you up to speed?”

“Yes, they called first thing this morning. One of the cabins is already ready for you to drop off your things.” He glances at my car, purses his lips, and nods. “I see you’re still driving that old clunker.”

“Viento is the most reliable vehicle in the country,” I say in its defense, giving the mud-covered hood an affectionate pat.

“Yeah… It’s funny how some loyalties do stand the test of time.”

Bam. Right to the jugular.

“Wow, we’re really off to a great start,” I think, keeping my composure. I’ll have to get used to people looking at me like I’m the villain in a cheap soap opera. To everyone here, I’m Camila Bennet, the heartless woman who ditched poor Elijah.

I open the back door, grab my canvas bag, and pull on the cowboy hat I inherited from my mother. I put on my sunglasses, tuck two stray strands of hair behind my ears, and stand my ground. If he wants coldness, he’s going to get Antarctica.

“The measuring equipment is in the trunk. I need someone to help me unload it so I can start setting it up. My technician and my assistant will take a little longer to get here,” I inform him matter-of-factly.

“All right. I’ll let Ricky know so he can handle it with the guys.”

“And please tell them to be careful. That equipment is worth more than my life, and we don’t have any time to waste.”

I toss him the keys to my SUV and set off toward the cabin. I stomp my boots on the ground with a false confidence that even runway models would envy, hiding the fact that my heart’s been racing ever since I left the big city this morning.

The sky is blue and clear—an idyllic summer day—but I know full well that this calm is a lie. Atmospheric anomalies keep increasing, and the storms in this area are going wild.

Soon I’ll have to start cleaning up the mess.

“Bennet!” Albert’s voice booms behind me.

Wow, we’ve already gone from “Camila” to my last name. Not a good sign.

I turn around and see an expression on his face that leaves me frozen in place. He’s terrified.

“Is it going to be the same as last time?”

I look around. The place is beautiful compared to how I remember it as a child—improved, full of life, with the new stables in the background. I glance up at the sky, at those white, innocent clouds that look like cotton but smell of imminent danger.

I look at Albert, shrug, and give him a smile.

“That’s what I’ve come to find out, Bert.”