Surviving the Storm Page 7

  She huffed. “Uh...no. May 1,” she answered in a monotone. “At the construction site.”

  David did the math. They had broken up May 7. It had taken four days of texting her, asking if she had received it, and then they had spoken on the phone on the seventh. He replayed the conversation in his head. “So when you said you needed space...” He groaned. His heart physically hurt, beating against his chest hard. How could he have jumped to conclusions so fast? His pride had truly been his fall. “You really did need time. My card was such a bad idea. I should’ve told you in person, I should’ve been there for you.”

  Aria flung her hands up. “See? How can you tell me you didn’t know about my dad when all you seemed to care about was whether I got your stupid sympathy card or not?” She dropped her face into her hands. He took a step toward her, but she blocked him with an outstretched hand.

  David thought he might be sick. “It wasn’t a sympathy card,” he said softly.

  Her hands swiped rapidly at her cheeks, wiping tears away. “Wh-what?”

  “It wasn’t a sympathy card,” he said, this time stronger. He exhaled. She must’ve thought he was the biggest jerk to send a sympathy card and then hound her about whether she had got it. “I take it you never read it?”

  She rolled her eyes and turned away, her face betraying her exasperation. “Stacks of cards arrived, yours included. I’m sure they all said the same thing. Sorry for your loss.” She inhaled a staggered breath and peered at him from the side. “You really didn’t know he died?” Her voice held a tinge of disbelief. “My mom let your parents know. They were on the call list.” Her shoulders sagged. “That was her one job,” she said, her voice low, “and she couldn’t even do that. I should’ve known it’d be too hard for her.” Aria blew out a long breath. “I wonder how many other people don’t know...people who have moved away, ones we don’t see often.”

  David grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight. “I had no idea, Aria, but when you said you had received my card and needed space, I thought you were, well, rejecting me.” He gritted his teeth. “I have only my pride to blame. If I had just asked you more questions...”

  She stepped out of his embrace, wiped the moisture off her cheeks with both hands then stared boldly into his eyes, her eyebrow raised. “David, if it wasn’t a sympathy card, what exactly did it say that would make you so upset that I needed space?”

  He studied her face so full of anger, despair and uncertainty. This wasn’t the right time now, especially after the years apart. There was a lot of hurt to be healed. “I hope to tell you someday, but I don’t think now is a good time.”

  She eyed him but nodded. They walked together side by side in silence for a few moments.

  “How...how’s your mom?” he asked.

  Her lips pursed. “Devastated. The moment Dad died, she left the house and went to her sister’s. Didn’t come back once, not even to pack. Had movers pack it up and put it in storage by the end of the week. She didn’t want a single memory in that house without my dad.”

  David kicked a rock out of the way. Aria got her passionate, impulsive side from her mother, but he didn’t realize just how intense her mom could be.

  He had been drilled over construction safety in school, and for good reason. Almost twenty percent of all worker fatalities happened in his field. The “fatal four” were electrocution, getting caught in between things, being struck by an object and falls. He cleared his throat. “How, uh, how did he die?” David asked.

  “I was helping out Mom by bringing him lunch,” she said, her voice soft. “I had just parked the car and looked up only to see him fall...from the fifth floor.”

  David’s feet stopped moving. He imagined what that must have been like for Aria and wanted to pull her in close and wrap his arms around her. But he hadn’t been there for her, and she’d made it clear by her body language that she wanted him to keep his distance.

  She kept walking. He took long strides to match her pace. “Why didn’t you tell me in person?”

  She glanced at him but then focused on the path in front of her. “I assumed you’d have known since our parents knew each other. I was in shock for a few days and didn’t want to talk to anyone, and then...days turned into weeks.” She sighed. “I suppose I have as much of the blame to shoulder for our misunderstanding. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but it wasn’t personal. I pretty much lost contact with everyone. Everyone except George, that is.”

  David’s pulse throbbed in his neck. He warred between grief, shame and anger and didn’t know which one to address. “You thought I’d abandoned you, so you gave up on me?”

  “Well, I’m sorry,” she bit out. “My dad had just died in front of me, and my mom completely checked out emotionally. We never returned to the house. Never, David.” She turned to him and pointed her finger at his chest. “So if you’re trying to lecture me on how I should’ve known better, you’ll have to excuse me.”

  David pressed his lips in a firm line. The reality of the situation was starting to fully weigh on his shoulders. All the angst and rejection he had felt was for nothing. He had put all his hope in one stupid written note and had chosen that method of expression with a pat on the back, imagining her cherishing it and showing it to everyone throughout the years. He wanted to punch himself for being so prideful.

  She sighed. “Besides, we had never committed to each other, had we? We had dated long-distance, with big gaps of time without calling each other, except for the regular ‘what you doing?’ text. Again, I’m sorry, David, but I didn’t have the heart to keep any casual relationship going. After my dad died, I didn’t have the energy for anything extra.”

  David almost didn’t see the boulder in the middle of the trail. He stepped around it at the last second. She thought their relationship had been casual? Sure, he had never told her in person how he had felt, but his actions had to have spoken louder than words, didn’t they? She had to have known deep down how he had felt. The daydreams they’d imagined of their lives together, that had to have meant something, right? Or had his pride blinded him in that area too? “I went to your house once to see you,” he added. “It was empty, with a for-sale sign.” The pain between his temples grew.

  “Mom did that within a week of Dad being gone,” she answered.

  “That doesn’t make sense to me,” he replied, automatically.

  “Since when does grief make sense?” she asked, her voice harsh.

  “Is your mom okay now?”

  “Pretty much the same as the day Dad passed,” she answered.

  “I wasn’t there for you,” David said, “but I would’ve liked to be.”

  Aria was silent. “Some people reach out to others in their grief, and some people withdraw. I guess I’m like my mother in that way.”

  “And yet, you’re very different from your mother as well.”

  She came to a sudden stop. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t get me wrong, you have a lot in common with her, but your mother would’ve never shoved the closet open on a gunman, or lit a flamethrower.” He grinned, but hoped his next statement would provide her comfort. “That courage and bravery came from your dad’s side.”

  Aria said nothing but started to walk again, seemingly deep in thought. The skies opened up with rain. David grabbed her hand, and they ran until they were back underneath the canopy of trees. Even then, a drizzle seeped through and kept them wet and chilled. Up ahead, David saw something flicker. Was it distant lightning or something worse?

  “I think those are headlights,” Aria said, confirming his fear. “We need to go off road. We can’t be too far from the houses, though.”

  He grabbed her hand. “Phones off.”

  They were in pure darkness—the thick branches made a roof that concealed all of the sky—which had pros and cons. Geo
rge’s attackers wouldn’t be able to see them easily, but they couldn’t see much either. David started to lead her to the right.

  “No.” She tugged back on him. “If we go that direction and lose our way, there’s a chance we could end up too close to the cliffs.”

  “Lead me, then.” She squeezed his hand and pulled him gently to the left. They stepped slowly and methodically into the underbrush, weaving between trees, for what seemed like hours. “Aria, I haven’t seen the headlights for quite some time. Maybe we should get back to the trail.”

  She sighed. “Okay. I think we’re almost there anyway.” She let go of his hand as if it was on fire the moment they stepped onto the hard-packed soil. They had come to a fork. “We take the right, and it should lead us away from the park to private property.”

  The trees thinned a bit, and the stars and moon provided just enough light to see the outline of several houses in the distance. David’s heart sped up. Shelter out of the cold and rain sounded like the best gift in the world. He was physically and emotionally spent in every way and he was sure Aria would admit to feeling the same. Lights flickered again, sweeping from left to... “Down!”

  He shoved Aria to the ground and rolled her back into the wooded area. He hoped there weren’t any of those sharp black rocks bordering the path. Mercifully, his back landed on ferns. “Crawl,” he whispered. “Headlights.”

  “We were so close to safety,” Aria whispered, her voice thick. They maneuvered the terrain on their hands and knees until they reached a tree. It’d have to be far enough. “Lie down.” He slid an arm protectively over her waist as the headlights swept past the tree that was shielding them.

  TEN

  Aria shifted on her back a little to relieve the pressure from something pointing into her side. A stick of some kind. She stared hard up into the sky, looking for the lights. She smelled a mixture of salt and moss and rain that usually soothed her but today just reminded her that she hadn’t had anything to drink or eat for far too long. Her throat ached with the effort of holding back tears and running for her life. And she couldn’t even begin to process what David had just told her. He really hadn’t known? She thought she felt something crawl onto her calf. She kicked her right foot until the sensation stopped. “I hope we’re not on top of poison ivy.”

  David shushed her. “They might have their windows down.”

  The leaves rustled, twinkles of moonlight seeping past them. Then the leaves started to move faster, as if more leaves were joining underneath, and they were dipping down lower all at once. Aria’s hands covered her mouth. A flapping sound accompanied by what sounded like mice squeaking and kids giving loud kisses filled the area. Bats. She cringed, and if not for David’s arm firmly holding her down, she would’ve run. The sheer number of them seemed to make the greenery all around them shift from the air current that passed. She couldn’t take it. She rolled into David’s chest. And a moment later, the forest was still again.

  “My concern about noise seemed to be a bit off base,” he whispered. “I can’t stand bats.”

  She echoed the sentiment but wasn’t ready to remove her hands from her mouth. The headlights swept back toward their area. After a moment they moved past, presumably headed for where the bats came from. Aria propped herself up on her elbows.

  “What are you doing?” he chided.

  “What if it’s help or authorities?” Aria challenged. “I need to at least peek.” She craned her head and tried to make out the shape of the vehicle that had just passed. One thing was for sure. It wasn’t a police cruiser. It was bigger. She couldn’t tell if it was the boxy Hummer, but it wasn’t likely to be help. She flopped back down on the ground.

  “It’s them?”

  She nodded. “Probably.”

  They sat still for a few minutes. Aria kept slapping her arms. It may have just been wind or vegetation brushing up against her but she felt as if insects were biting. What good were bats if they didn’t at least remove the mosquitoes?

  “You’re making me itch,” David commented.

  She huffed. “Then get me out of here.”

  He sat up. “Fair enough. They seem to have been gone for a while.” He straightened and held out a hand. She accepted and pulled. In the darkness, her senses had heightened. The touch of David’s callused hand made her recall memories of dates in the past where they had walked side by side. She could see his smile. He had always been the jokester, never serious, always about having fun and dreaming big. He seemed different now—more thoughtful—but perhaps she shouldn’t make judgments while they were on the run for their lives.

  She released his hand and made her way back to the trail. Ever conscious that the Hummer was likely driving in circles through every path the park had to offer, she quickened her pace. The path had widened enough to allow two cars instead of one. Within a minute, they were in front of a small bungalow. “Not this one,” she whispered. “We can’t pick the first house we come to. That’s what they would expect. Follow me.”

  “And you’re sure these are all empty?”

  “The people who buy these kind of places are the type that have two homes. Usually one in the city. They don’t like the rain and the cold in the winter, even if it’s mild compared to, I don’t know, Midwest standards. Besides, there’s nothing open aside from Grumpy Lou’s Café during the winter. Only the die-hard locals stay.” Three more houses down, they arrived in front of a house she had always admired. In the daylight, it was a gorgeous shade of blue, like a blue-gray sky just before rainfall, but the white trim brightened the mood it conveyed. In the spring it was bordered with azaleas, and in the summer she always stopped to smell the many hydrangeas, daylilies and beach roses lining the front path. There were no flowers now in the winter, but she still imagined that an owner that worked to keep the front landscaping so gorgeous despite living in a forest must keep their house immaculate inside. Besides, she was a sucker for Cape Cod–style architecture. “Let’s try this one.”

  “Looks good to me,” David said. “Now let’s get inside.” He slid her bag off his shoulder and handed it to her before approaching the front door. He removed two objects from his tool belt. Despite the lack of light, she assumed they were thin screwdrivers, because surely he didn’t own a pickpocket kit.

  He leaned down on one knee. “Keep an eye out,” he instructed and wrapped his hand around the doorknob.

  “Since when do you know how to pick a lock?” she asked, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “The same way I knew how to hotwire an ATV,” he answered. “That’s what you get when you have a houseful of boys.”

  She shook her head. How had his mother survived the trouble-making the McGuire boys had gotten themselves into growing up? She did as David asked and swept her gaze over the trees for any sign of trouble. Her ears strained at the sound of a cracking branch. Likely due to the rain and shifting of the earth from the earthquake but nevertheless her heart raced. She looked over her shoulder. “Any progress?”

  “Not so far,” he growled.

  She studied the gravel lining the path to the front door. She searched for any sign of something out of place, like one of those novelty rocks designed to hide keys. “Have you checked around the door for a key? The frame? The fixtures? Are you on a welcome mat?”

  He sighed. “Aria, the more you interrupt, the less likely I’m going to get this lock picked. If you want to look around, knock yourself out.”

  Her neck prickled at his tone. He was just as stubborn as ever, but it didn’t bother her. He had three brothers and was used to being in an all-male environment. She’d grown up around men like that—her dad’s employees and then later the men in the architecture program. They all became focused and irritated when things didn’t go as planned. Aria knew enough not to take it personally. Her mom had made sure she had understood that from a young age. Co
me to think of it, even George had been extra grumpy the past week. She imagined the man’s pride kept him from opening up without having all the answers yet, but if he had just told her what was going on maybe she could’ve helped...or maybe not. If she started down the road of what-ifs she’d be no good to anyone.

  She pulled back her shoulders. It was not the time to let her emotions get the better of her. After one more search of the area, she abandoned her post and took David’s suggestion. A quick look around the porch got her nowhere. No doormat, no container, no key on top of the doorframe...

  “Satisfied?” David asked.

  She shifted her weight and put her hands on her hips. “Don’t get cocky. I’m only trying to help speed things along.”

  “Sorry. But you can help by keeping a watch-out.”

  She stepped back off the porch. Maybe there was another way inside. She walked around the side of the house and stopped at the sight of a mammoth-sized square humming next to the air conditioning unit. She peeked around the corner. Still no headlights on the way. She hustled back to the hunk of metal and pointed her phone light in its direction. She noticed there was still no network signal on her screen, but then the light hit the make and model of the box. “An emergency generator,” she murmured, with a smile. Not just any generator...the kind that cost over ten thousand dollars. Did she know how to pick a hiding place, or what?

  More determined than ever, she kept one hand on the siding as she made her way to the back. With each step she let her foot test the terrain before pressing her weight down. The house was placed diagonally against the edge of the cliff for the best view, but given the earthquake and the tsunami, she knew the chance of mudslides had increased, and she didn’t know how sound the ground was below her feet.

  Aria kept a hand on the house until her fingers caressed smooth glass. She smiled and, using both hands, dropped them to waist level and felt around until she found it: a doorknob. A glass back door that likely had no dead bolt meant easy access. Her mom once had been locked out and when she had called for Dad to come unlock the door, Dad had suggested she try the old credit card trick on the door inside the garage, and it had worked.