|Walking "our beach" a few weeks before our boy became a big brother....|
Last week, I put my newborn in her bouncy chair where she likes to take short power naps during the day so that I could get her big tough toddler brother to sleep for an hour or two. As I closed the living room curtains to help bring on the sleepies, I noticed that it looked slightly overcast. Toddler guy and I settled into the rocking chair and slowly began to wind down for naptime.
Ten minutes later, as he was just starting to close his eyes, I heard thunder rumbling. It sounded close and began to shake the house. My guy likes watching big storms roll in from the window overlooking our front porch so when he heard the storm getting closer and closer, sleep became the last thing on his mind. As rain began to lash the front of the house, I sighed. Naptime’s hard enough as it is for him to do. Add in the noise and excitement of severe weather and this mommy can count out any quiet time for writing during the day.However, this storm seemed to be gaining in intensity. I peeked out through the curtain and was shocked to see the wind all but laying down the trees in our front yard. I could hardly see the street, the rain was coming down so hard. I got that eerie feeling. You know, the one you get if you’ve ever seen hurricane or tornado weather. That instinct that tells you to head for the cellar.
Calling my guy away from the window, I picked up my newborn (bouncy chair and all) and ran for the bedroom closet (our version of a cellar). As I set her deep in the closet amongst winter boots and hanging coats, I noticed that my guy wasn’t with me. Alarmed, I rushed back to the front of the house to find him…that’s right…sitting at the front window between the parting in the curtain watching nature’s fury in awe. You see, this is the problem with daredevil boys. That “no fear” mentality is great when we ride on the family boat at high speeds or when we want him to try something new like sports or sleeping over at grandma’s. But when it comes to those things that are clear “no no’s” yet are just too irresistibly thrilling for him to resist (like, I don’t know, scaling the back of the sofa like a tight-rope walker…or doing a Superman dive off the dock into the water at the lake all by himself…) I really wish common sense was there to take over. Alas, I had to pick him up (no easy task; he’s a two-and-a-half-year-old inside a five-year-old’s body) and haul him back to the closet.
The closet has a light in it, thank goodness. I was able to calm the little one enough to hear what was going on overhead and give my husband a call to make sure he was out of the storm. When he heard how bad the weather was at home, he decided to drive straight to us. Yep, through the torrential downpour. (Like his love of cars, sweets, and power tools, Big Tough Toddler Guy gets his daredevil streak honestly.) I wondered how I was going to keep the boy from escaping the closet when he found a box of vintage toys from my childhood. In a rare moment of sibling comradery, he paraded half-dressed Barbies and Kens in front of his sister. He giggled over the naked ones and puzzled over the ones with missing limbs. (My sister and I once joked that if a child psychologist ever got a look into our toy box, their best guess would be that we turned out to be coroners or serial killers.)
|My guys, the aforementioned daredevils....|
It was difficult to hear anything over newborn’s raspberries and my guy’s chatter. When the door to the closet opened, we looked up to see the hub. He surveyed the explosion of Barbies and their counterparts crammed with the long-legged toddler, baby’s bouncy, and me with knees drawn up to my ears all in close confines and had himself a good laugh. “Storm’s over,” he announced before crawling into the fray and delicately explaining to one curious little dude the difference between naked Barbie and naked Ken.This was the first storm in a long time that has scared me enough to hunker down. I’m pretty sure the last one involved one itty bitty boy baby. (Crazy to think that at one time he was that small….) Long before he was born, I remember walking the beach with the hub while a hurricane boiled in the Gulf. There was little room between the raging waves and the windblown dunes. The windows of the condos we walked passed emitted a loud, rattling sound. Remembering it all these years later still makes my spine tingle. That night the salt in the air from the wind crystallized on the power lines and caused massive power outages. I remember sleeping in the truck after Katrina with our dogs because the house was too oppressive without air conditioning. I also remember driving back from the lake after Hurricane Ivan and the destruction we came across as we cruised slowly with the rest of the evacuees down I-65. Not to mention the National Guard patrols who greeted us once we arrived home. Storms are a fact of life on the Gulf, one my stalwart son doesn’t seem to mind all that much. Ah, well. Maybe he’ll grow up to be a storm-chaser or a hurricane hunter. (I foresee long years and high blood pressure ahead for this mommy.)
When I wrote the first book in my Harlequin Superromance series, A Place With Briar, set in my hometown here on the Gulf, I couldn’t help but include some impressive tropical weather to help draw the hero and heroine closer together. If living in the same place for twenty-some-odd years has taught me anything, it's what it's like to have a category storm barreling toward my house and being helpless to stop it. Here’s a little Throwback Thursday excerpt from Briar and Cole’s summer romance….
Even with the fan cooling things somewhat in the bay-view suite, Cole couldn’t settle. He lay on top of the sheets in T-shirt and shorts, frowning at the ceiling and listening to the low-tuned, battery-operated radio he’d found downstairs.
The DJs promised to stay up through the night with listeners, providing the latest updates on Hurricane Brett, whose slanted eye was now staring straight down the watery barrel of Mobile Bay. The treacherous east side of the storm was already pounding the Alabama and west Florida coastlines. Several tornado warnings were in effect. Early damage reports trickled in from cell phones.
One message was clear for those who’d not evacuated – don’t venture outside. Law enforcement officers and meteorologists stated imperatively: stay away from windows. In case of tornado, find a safe, windowless room in the lowest part of the house for cover.
With Briar upstairs, Cole didn’t feel at all comfortable drifting off to sleep. Why had he left her alone?
Suddenly, a deafening crash outside launched Cole out of bed. It subsided quickly. In the dim silence that followed, he heard the quick patter of footfalls in the hall.
He crossed to the room and peered out just in time to see the white tail of Briar’s robe disappear down the stairs to the first floor. Hot on her heels, he reached the landing as she ran to the back door.
When he saw her disengage the dead bolt, he rushed forward. “Briar, no!”
She didn’t stop or look back, yanking the door open.
“Don’t go outside!”
His voice was drowned by the banshee scream of the wind. The door sailed out of her grasp, crashing against the wall. She didn’t stop there. Gripping the doorjamb, she battled the wind, stepping over the threshold and moving out into the storm.
“Holy hell,” he muttered. It might have made him as crazy as she was, but he went after her without hesitation. Leaves scattered into the den as he made his way to the door and chased her onto the porch.
The clouds flickered with devilish light, illuminating the churning, rising bay—an animal all its own under the storm’s manipulation. The strobe quality helped him spot Briar at the far end of the porch, looking at the thick branch that had fallen over her vegetable garden and torn through the roof of the porch. Gripping the rail and driving himself into the sucking wind, Cole raised an arm to fend off the stinging slap of rain. Reaching out, he gripped Briar’s arm in a viselike hold and dragged her back.
It took forever to reach the door. Finally, he shoved her to safety and fought the wind again to wrestle the door closed. When it bolted, he whirled on her. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I had to see,” she explained, crossing her arms over her chest. Her voice sounded close to feeble. “I heard something break….”
As panicked as he’d felt when he saw her go through the door, he could’ve railed at her. But seeing the slight quiver of her knees and her pale features, he swallowed his fury. “You’re soaked.”
“You, too,” she noted. “I’ll go upstairs and wash off.”
He grabbed her by the hand. “You’re not going anywhere without me. We’ll both be safer together downstairs. We should be comfortable enough here.”
Before she could answer, another ominous clatter broke through the silence. Her face fell, stricken. “The porch.”
He reached for her. “Here, sit.” Gently, he ushered her down next to him on the sofa. “Just sit. There’s nothing we can do until morning.”
“Right,” she said, swallowing. “You’re right.” Another crash. “God.”
His arm wrapped around her shoulders. Comforting, he told himself. Strictly comforting.
But his need to protect, to enfold, overwhelmed him. He leaned back with her hugged close at his side. Tension loosened from his chest when her head fell to his shoulder and she didn’t hesitate to curl into him.
A Place With Briar is on sale for just $3.99 at Amazon, along with the two sequels, Married One Night (October 2014 Superromance) and His Rebel Heart (July 2015 Superromance)! I hope you enjoyed the throwback snippet!
A toast to hot August nights and summer reads!