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| Walking "our beach" a few weeks before our boy became a big brother.... |
August is here. Hard to believe, right? For those of us on the
Gulf Coast, it means one last month (hopefully) of intense heat. Unfortunately,
this is the month where we really have to start watching the tropics for
potential hurricanes. Though the tropics have been pretty quiet this year, it doesn’t
stop those crazy summer storms from sweeping over our house at a moment’s
notice.
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.
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| My guys, the aforementioned daredevils.... |
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.)
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.)
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He was in some serious trouble….
Cole Savitt does not want to deceive Briar Browning. But if he wants to see his son again, he has to find the weaknesses in her charming bed-and-breakfast, then get out of town fast! But the quaint inn isn’t the only thing charming him….
Cole’s straightforward plan becomes anything but when he begins to fall for the beautiful innkeeper. Suddenly everything’s on the line—his future with his son, a chance at happiness and the love of a good woman. Cole must rethink his priorities…and the stakes have never been higher. |
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 toast to hot August nights and summer reads!
Amber Leigh Williams lives on the Gulf Coast. A southern girl at heart, she lives for beach days, the smell of real books, relaxing at her family’s lakehouse, and spending time with her husband, Jacob, and their two children. When she’s not trying to keep up with rambunctious little ones and two large dogs she can usually be found reading a good romance or cooking up a new dish in her kitchen. She is represented by D4EO Literary Agency. Visit her on the web at www.amberleighwilliams.com!
