Damascus Road (16 page)

I think it hurt me more that the question was genuine. It
wasn't said to hurt me, so much as it was treated as if it were gospel truth.

"Grace, I know it hasn't seemed like it... I know I
haven't done anything to show it, but I do care about you," I said.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

She stepped closer to the car and leaned over, putting her
hand on my arm.

"Did you have any trouble finding me?" she asked.

"More than a little."

"Out here, in the middle of the country, it's not like
we can't see him coming," she said.

"Grace, I just don't think..."

"Jim, you're here in my backyard now," she said.
"If you want to be here and watch out for me, then you have to be here and
watch out for me."

A mischievous grin was growing on her face. It made me
nervous. Whenever she did that, I always thought that I'd rather face a grizzly
bear or a great white shark. I knew their motivations. With Grace, it was
harder to tell.

"Okay, what do you have in mind?" I asked.

"Well, you know that I'm a field meteorologist,"
she said.

"You're a storm chaser," I replied.

"Stop watching movies and pay attention," she
said, but she was good-natured when she said it. "We use scout drivers and
chase drivers. Usually the scouts are out in the field trying to find the
tornados. Then we try to keep up with the equipment to get the readings and
deploy the probes."

"Probes?" I asked warily.

"Electronic transmitters that get picked up by the
tornado and send back data," she explained. "But the challenge is in
getting close enough to deploy the probes without getting smashed by the
twister."

"Has it ever occurred to you that your job is
insane?" I asked.

"No, never," she replied, stone-faced. "I'm
in the middle of my work here, Jim. You know I can't just pick up and take off,
so don't even suggest that I leave with you."

She was figuring out what I was going to say before I said
it. That drove me more than a little nuts.

"Then what?" I asked.

“You want to chase tornadoes with me, baby?” she asked.

“You are insane, woman.”

“If you want to stay here and watch out for me,” she said.
“You need to work with me. As part of my team. Drive with me, Jim.”

“Really? I hadn’t…I mean…that’s not what I expected you to
say.”

“You know me. I’m not running. You want to stay with me, you
have to stay with me.”

I stared out the windshield, considering my options.

“Sounds like fun,” I said.

“We’ll see, Jimmy,” she said. “You got a place to stay?”

“You’re looking at it.”

“You can’t sleep in your car,” she said.

“I can and I have.”

“Well, you don’t have to,” she said. “Come on. I’ll grab the
team and you can follow us to the hotel.”

“Grace, wait…”

She turned back to me, and I saw that look in her eye. She
looked lighter somehow. The years seemed to drop away along with all the
nonsense and bitterness.

“What is it, Jim?”

I wanted to ask her about Erik Balfour and her team and what
she had been doing all that time without me. But the look on her face stopped
me cold. Her mood had risen from dark to light, and it was too precious to let
it go. I just couldn’t bring myself to ruin it.

“What kind of car are you driving?” I asked.

“It’s the Suburban right over there,” she pointed. ‘We’ll be
right out.”

I nodded and watched her walk away.

Rain began to fall during the drive to the hotel. It was
soft and gentle and fell in a steady cascade. I had a little knot in my
stomach, anticipating how that would change in the days to come. I had no doubt
there would be more rain, more wind and more wreckage. I didn’t relish crossing
paths with another tornado, but Grace had been right. It kept me close to her,
and in the end, that’s all that really mattered.

The Suburban and Ford F-150 pulled into a hotel parking lot,
so I followed them in. We were already our own little rag tag caravan. They
parked in front of the entrance, so I stopped in line. They were going to check
in first and then move the cars. Made sense, I conceded to myself.

I locked the car and walked inside. Grace stood with a tight
circle of men. Erik Balfour was there, and I did my best not to break stride
when I saw him. Questions about him rose in my throat, but I swallowed them
back.

My eyes met with Grace’s, and she beckoned me over.

“Jim, I’d like you to meet some people,” she said.

She still had the lilt to her voice. She was happy, or so it
seemed. I feared that we hadn’t really talked through everything that had
happened, that would and could happen. She was pressing forward it seemed; if I
was for real, if I was genuine, I would have to prove it to her by staying
there. I’d need to take some risks of my own before she was willing to take a
risk on me again.

“Jim, this is Erik Balfour,” Grace said. “He’s our
benefactor. He owns a number of companies and has been providing private relief
efforts to towns hit by natural disasters like tornados. He also has a number
of degrees around meteorology and climatology.”

“Just concerned about the environment is all,” Erik said
modestly. “I think it’s evidenced in our changing climate, and the tornados are
a part of that. I’d just like to be part of the solution, you know?”

I shook his hand; it wasn’t the limp fish I expected it to
be.

“Well, you know what they say,” I replied. “Quod erat
demonstrotum.”

“Q.E.D. Thus it is proved,” he said, his opinion of me
changing in midstream. “Indeed.”

Grace shot me a snarky little look.

“And these are our brothers, Duff and Bud,” she said.

They were redheads both of them, short and thick. Duff had a
wild goatee working. Bud’s head was shaved, and his round glasses that made him
look even rotund.

“Hey Jim!”

“How’s it going?”

“Hey, fellas,” I said. “So, what’s on the agenda for
tomorrow?”

“We’ve got a network of storm spotters that help us to find
tornados and the like,” Bud said. “We also have Doppler and portable radar.”

“We’re hoping that we’ll come across some real twisters in
the next few days,” Duff said. “You coming with us tomorrow?”

I made eye contact with Grace.

“Absolutely,” I said. “Looking forward to it.”

Grace was looking at me, but something in her expression was
off, like she was waiting for me to give up and make a break for the door.

“We’re glad to have you,” Erik said. “Any friend of Grace’s
is welcome here.”

Friend of Grace’s? I didn’t see that I could correct him in
front of everyone, not without talking with her first. How would that
conversation go? Pardon me, Erik, but I’m her husband, you ass. Not her friend.

“It’s my pleasure, Erik,” I said. “Thank you for having me.”

Bud and Duff said goodnight and turned to the counter to go
through the paces of checking in.

“Grace? Can I have a moment?” I asked.

“Excuse me, Erik,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

He nodded, smiled, and touched her shoulder. Asshole.

Grace followed me outside.

“So, what’s the story with you and Captain America in
there?” I asked.

“Who? Oh, Erik? We’re friends.”

“Friends?” I asked. “He thinks that you and I are friends.”

“Jim, I’m not even sure that we’re that.”

“What are you talking about?” I shot back.

“What am I talking about? We’ve been separated for years. If
you would have died, I never would have known. Let’s be honest here, Jim. You
live your life, and I live mine.”

“You asked me to be here!” I said. “You asked me to chase
storms with you!”

“I never thought you would do it.”

“So, because I said I would do it, now it suddenly doesn’t
mean anything to you, Grace? That’s how it always is, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“You want whatever I don’t have to give,” I said. “You lied
to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You sure didn’t tell me the truth,” I said. “You know, I
finally get it…”

“Get what, Jim? You finally get what?”

 “It means that you have such an incredible capacity for
lies and bullshit and nonsense that I couldn’t begin to keep up with you,” I
said.

“Don’t be a baby, Jim,” she said. “This is no time to pout.”

“Are you dating him?” I asked.

She stared at me, caught up short.

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not dating him,” she said, but her voice was flat.

“Yet.”

“I’m not dating him yet,” she conceded.

“And when were you planning to start?” I asked.

She shrugged.

“You abandoned me, Jim,” she said. “I don’t need to explain
myself to you.”

“No, you never did. You never will.”

I threw my hands up and stepped back. I hadn’t seen this
coming. Perhaps it wasn’t that I didn’t deserve it. Maybe I deserved all of it.
Maybe I deserved whatever she had to throw at me.

She stood watching me. She wasn’t about to commit anything
to me. To engage me in any way. Her eyes were narrowed and cold. Her arms were
crossed over her chest, and she stood with her body angled to me. It was a
defensive posture, ready to fight.

“What about Tom?” I asked.

“That’s your problem,” she said. “Not mine. If Tom shows up
here, he wants you, not me.”

“Is this how it’s going to be?” I asked.

“This is how it is.”

I chewed on my lower lip while I considered that.

“I want to stay,” I said.

Grace looked up at me, the shock genuine on her face.

“Why?” she asked, anger and confusion mixed in her voice.

“Would it make a difference if I told you?” I asked.

She stared at me, eyes reddening, tears building.

“Good night, Grace,” I said.

I walked past her back into the hotel, never stopping to
look back at her. I shoved the door hard as I entered, and it caught Erik’s
attention. I walked right for him and stopped just short.

“She’s my wife,” I said.

“I’m sorry, what?” Erik blustered.

I pasted a smile to my face.

“Just clearing the air. A friendly little correction,” I
said. “You mentioned that any friend of Grace’s was welcome. I’m Grace’s
husband. I just wanted to be clear about that.”

“Uh-hunh,” he nodded. “Okay. Thank you, Jim.”

“You’re welcome, Erik.”

I got a room key from the hotel clerk. I ignored Duff and
Bud staring at me.

“Looking forward to seeing you all tomorrow morning,” I
said, walking past them.

“Good night,” they all murmured. I had made an impression.

I opened the door and Grace still stood there, arms crossed,
angry look on her face, but she wouldn’t look at me. She was staring at the
ground.

“You asshole,” she said as I passed.

“Bitch,” I replied without missing a beat.

I got in the Cuda and squealed the tires as I pulled out.

Truth be told, I didn’t know where the hotel room was or if
I was even headed in the right direction. I felt vaguely like the guy who tries
to walk out of his house only to have forgotten his car keys. I made a lucky
guess and found the entrance to the hotel where my room was located. I backed
the Cuda into a parking spot that I would be able to see from the building and
retrieved my gear bag from the trunk.

I found my room quickly and let myself in. Something I have
to confess… I love hotel rooms. There’s something about the anonymity of them
that I can’t resist. I could be anyone, doing anything in that room. I could be
on my way to a new life or running away from my old life. The neatly folded
towels and the little soaps just made it so tidy, so complete. I checked the
shower and threw the curtain open. Clean. Spotless.

By the bedside, the nightstand was solid and stocked with a
Bible from the Gideons. I looked at it in the drawer. I considered taking it
out, but saw no point. There was nothing for me there. I closed the drawer.

I’d spent enough time on the road that I could feel my need
for a shower. I pulled clothes from my gear bag, something I could sleep in. I
dropped it on the bathroom counter and turned on the shower. I washed up and
dried off.

I saw something then, something that I hadn’t noticed in
Wallace’s loft, but under the harsh fluorescent lights became far too obvious
to me. My body was covered in scars. I had a healed knife wound that ran along
my rib. I had a puncture wound from a nail gun in my shoulder. That guy had
been nuts. My knee had the pink scar tissue grown in from a motorcycle crash. I
had scrapes and gashes and injuries from a hundred different causes, but that
wasn’t really what kept my mind occupied.

Across my back, from my trapezius muscles that ran along my
neck, across my latissimus dorsi muscles in the middle of my back and down to
the base of my spine was a tattoo. It was an angel done in the classical style
of the great tattoo artists. Instead of the angel face being solely created by
the artist’s discretion, it was Grace’s features there under the mane of
gorgeous hair. She was still beautiful; no matter how I might try, there was no
way that I could ever get away from her.

Across my shoulders were two words, written in elaborate
script.

Find Grace.

To me it had always meant that wherever I was in life, I
needed to find the better side of it. I got the tattoo when I met my Grace, of
course, so it doubly made sense.

Now, it had become the reminder of what I needed to do.

Find Grace.

The tattoo pained me to look at, so I pushed it from my
mind.

I awoke the next morning before the sun rose. Fear can be a
great alarm clock. I had to be up and awake before the team decided that I was
more trouble than I was worth and left without me. There was no doubt in my
mind that after our confrontation last night, Grace would be pushing Erik hard
to leave me behind. Something about him though told me that he wouldn’t do
that. For all the failings that I wanted to project on him, he seemed to be a relatively
decent guy.