Dance, The (The Restoration Series Book #1): A Novel (26 page)

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M
arilyn stepped out of the bathroom. “Jim?” She thought she heard him saying something a moment ago but couldn’t hear it over the bathroom fan. She walked through the master bath suite into their bedroom, but he was gone.

The wind howled outside, vibrating the windows. A table in the pool area suddenly fell over. She stopped and gripped her dresser, gasping at a new terrifying noise, a cracking sound loud as thunder. Something moved by the back fence. Was that Jim falling in the backyard? “Jim!” she yelled and ran toward the patio door. Had he been struck by lightning?

As she opened the door, the wind ripped it from her grasp and slammed it against the back wall. “Jim!” she yelled again. He was still lying on the ground in the grass by the fence. She came around the pool, relieved to see him move. In a moment, he was on his hands and knees. “Are you hurt? What happened?”

He stood up, shaking his head. “I’m all right. Scared me half to death.” He looked over toward the area behind the garage. “Oh no, look.” He walked toward the white privacy fence.

“What is it?”

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it. The storm’s not even here yet, and look.”

She walked around the deep end of the pool. “What? What is it?”

“Maybe you don’t want to see this.” He turned to look at her. “It’s your car.”

“What’s wrong with my—” The next moment, she cleared the freestanding garage and had her answer. She could see her car over the fence. “It’s crushed.” A huge branch from an aging oak tree, whose limbs had watched over the freestanding garage ever since they’d moved in, had broken off and fallen right on top of her car. The roof, the windshield, and half the front end of her car were totally smashed.

“I’m sorry, hon.” Jim turned toward her and put his arms out to comfort her.

She almost let him. An awkward moment followed as she pulled back and looked over the fence again. Her poor car. It was destroyed. “I can’t believe it.”

“We need to get inside quick,” Jim said. “If a tree limb can do that to a car . . .”

“Now we can’t switch cars,” she said. “You’re stuck here.”

Jim looked back at the damage. “You’re right.” The biggest part of the limb stretched across the driveway, blocking in Doug’s car too. “It looks way too heavy to move. Well, let’s not worry about it now. You go on inside and I’ll finish putting the patio furniture in the garage.”

“How about I stay out here and help you, then we both go in?”

“I’m sorry, I’m doing it again.”

“What?”

“Telling you what to do,” he said. “All right, let’s both get this stuff inside.” For the next ten minutes, they worked together, wrestling the wind for each piece of furniture. A few gusts
seemed strong enough to rip off more tree limbs, if not topple the trees themselves. “I hate this,” she shouted over the noise.

“I should’ve gotten this done this morning. I thought we had more time.”

When the last chair had been tucked safely in the garage and the garage sealed up tight, they ran across the grass then through the pool area and came in the house through the veranda. The next moment a torrential rain began. “Must be one of the outer rain bands,” Jim said. “Either this storm has gotten bigger or it’s speeding up. The last update made it sound like we weren’t going to be seeing any serious storm effects until after dark.”

“Maybe they don’t consider this serious.”

He smiled then walked into the living room. She followed him, watched him grab the remote and turn the TV on. “Yeah, see that,” he said, pointing to the topmost part of the revolving cloud base that was Hurricane Harold. It covered all of south and part of central Florida. “See that band there? That’s the one. That’s out there right now.” She was surprised to see him so animated, almost like a little boy.

They watched the meteorologist explain things she didn’t understand, about why Harold was moving faster now. She thought back to the way things had been in 2004, and about one of her other “little boys,” Tom. He hadn’t been so little then. He was in high school, and he’d watched the storm updates like he watched the Super Bowl. The worse it got, the more fun he had. Three hurricanes in the span of six weeks, and Tom was in his glory the whole while. When Charley struck, he’d wanted to be out there during the worst of it. Trees were falling, branches flying down the road. The rain whipped so hard against the windows, Marilyn was sure they were all going to shatter.

Tom stared at the whole scene with wild-eyed wonder. He
must have said “Isn’t this amazing?” fifty times. Michele was just as scared as she was. And Doug, he wouldn’t even get near a window or a door. He spent the whole time surrounded by pillows in the walk-in closet of their master bedroom. Surprisingly, they only lost electricity for a few hours. Jim said it was because all the wires were underground. That helped everyone, especially Doug. He was even more afraid of the dark than the storms.

Where was Doug now? At some friend’s house eight blocks away. Doug was the age Tom had been back then, almost a senior in high school. Hard to believe. They had been so close, she and Doug. What had happened to them? She loved him so much, but somehow over the past few years they had drifted almost as far apart as she and Jim had. She had called him several times after she left Jim but always got his voicemail. He rarely returned her calls. When he did, she was always at work, and he never left a message.

A sigh escaped her. “You said Doug was at Jason’s? Are you sure he got there all right?”

“Yeah,” Jim said. “Made him call me as soon as he arrived. Jason had invited three or four guys over, said they’re going to have a hurricane party.”

“You don’t think they’d do anything stupid,” she said. “Like high-school-boy-stupid.”

“You mean like dare each other to run out in the middle of the street? See who could stay out there the longest? Remember when Tom dared me to do that with him during Charley?”

She nodded, so glad Jim hadn’t given in.

“Even if they want to do something crazy, I can’t see Doug joining in. He spent all his time hiding out in our closet in ’04.”

“He won’t do that this time, not over there,” she said.

“No, but I don’t see him acting like a crazy man. He’ll be all right.”

She decided to take a chance and ask. “Jim, do you know if Doug is mad at me?”

“What? I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

“He hasn’t said anything about how he feels about me . . . leaving home?”

Jim paused a moment. “Not to me. But you know how he is. At least, how he’s been the last few years. He’s totally wrapped up in his own life and plans. I’m sure he misses you. He’s grumbled a few times about meals and the way I keep house.”

“I thought you’d get someone to do that,” she said.

“It didn’t work out. Anyway, I can’t think of anything he said that makes me think he’s mad at you.” He looked down at the carpet. “Doesn’t seem real happy with me right now.” When he looked up he said, “Have you tried calling him?”

She didn’t really want to get into any more details with Jim about this. “We keep missing each other.” She changed the subject. “Maybe I’ll call Tom and Michele before the storm gets too bad, make sure they’re okay.”

He muted the TV. “It sounds like we’ve got maybe two or three hours before the main bands start coming our way.” He looked out the big picture window in the living room. “I put all the hurricane shutters down upstairs. Would you be okay if I waited a bit before shutting them down here? I’d love to watch the storm a little while.”

She couldn’t believe it. Jim never asked her things like this. He just did whatever he wanted. “I’m okay with leaving the ones under the porch and veranda up a little while,” she said. “Since they’re covered by the roof. But could you close the others?”

He agreed. She walked over to get her phone out of her purse on the counter.

“I’m really sorry about your car,” he said.

“What?” She turned around.

“I know how much you loved that car. It’s probably totaled. But we’ll find another one just like it.” He stumbled over the next few words. “Well . . . I mean, the insurance will give us enough money, so you can buy another one.”

She knew he was stumbling over the phrase “we’ll find another one.” This was the first time they’d been together in almost two months, other than a few moments here and there. Would
they
be buying another car? What did the future hold for them? In some ways, being here with him felt entirely normal, like slipping into an old pair of jeans. But it also felt strained and awkward. She didn’t know about the future, and right now she didn’t want to think about it. But it didn’t escape her notice that Jim seemed genuinely sorry for her loss. The Jim she knew would never have picked up on her feelings. He’d mostly be steaming about the money he’d have to spend meeting the insurance deductible and the hassle of dealing with the agents and adjustors.

She looked at him again, still standing in front of the picture window, staring out to the street. Being at this house was not a good thing; she could feel it weakening her resolve. It wasn’t the house itself, the décor, the furnishings. It was the memories of the kids, when they were all together at a happier time. But that time was not now. And Jim hadn’t made her happy then; only the kids did. This kindler, gentler Jim was just a ploy.

Don’t be fooled by it. He hasn’t changed, not
that
much.

Jim was actually enjoying the storm outside, which wasn’t like him at all. What he really wanted to do was walk out on the front porch and get the full dose. It was amazing seeing the power of God up close this way. He looked back at Marilyn
standing by the kitchen counter with her phone in hand. Better not try it, he thought. He knew how much she hated hurricanes. She’d be worried sick if he went outside.

He wasn’t too sure how the two of them would get along over the next day or so. This development was totally unexpected. He tensed up thinking about it. What if he screwed up, said the wrong thing, and made everything worse? An idea suddenly popped into his head, something Uncle Henry had said when he’d visited on Tuesday.
“Start practicing what you want to say to Marilyn if you got the chance. Like an act of faith. I know she’s still not talking to you. But we’re hoping someday that’s going to change. You be ready when the time comes.”

Jim had done this, written everything down and rewritten it a dozen times. He had no idea a chance would come so soon. He imagined it would be weeks or even months from now. Was this the time? Had God set this up? Maybe God had Doug park his car the wrong way, blocking Marilyn from parking inside the garage; maybe he had an angel break that big limb so it would fall on Marilyn’s car, forcing them to ride out the storm together.

No, this was crazy. He was thinking like Uncle Henry now.

That made him smile.

He hurried into the bedroom, pulled the last version of the things he’d written out of his dresser drawer, then stood there staring at it. Was he ready for this? Should he even try? What if he left the most important thing out or said something that hurt her even more?

What if this wasn’t God’s plan and the whole thing blew up in his face?