Hard Rain (5 page)

They came to the drive-in. The neon lights trimming its flat roof were dark. As the man had predicted, several vehicles were parked in the lot. The picnic tables were chained, their umbrellas removed. A half dozen people clustered under the drive-in’s overhang, facing the sea, sharing a twelve-pack of beer. They turned toward the Bronco as Jesse pulled into the lot. Their
gazes narrowed as they noted the sheriff’s star on the vehicle’s door. This time Amy followed Jesse. He shot her a look as she stepped outside but didn’t try to stop her. Heads nodded in response to Jesse’s greeting but expressions remained cautious.

“I’m looking for a group of teenage boys,” Jesse told them. “Came down here to surf on the big waves brought in by the storm. I was hoping they stopped here or one of you saw them.”

Everyone seemed to relax. “Ask Marnie,” one man said, cocking his head toward the drive-in window. Others nodded. “If they stopped for food, she would have served them.”

Jesse went to the wide window where orders were placed. A heavyset woman was packing supplies into cupboards.

“Ma’am?” Jesse said at the window.

“No orders,” she barked, her back to the window. “Electricity’s been out and the generator’s almost out of juice. I’m packing up and heading inland myself.” She turned, took in Jesse’s uniform.

Jesse touched the brim of his hat. “Sheriff Jesse Boone, ma’am. Come down from Turning Point.”

“Sorry, Sheriff.” Wiping her hands on a towel, she came toward the window. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re looking for a group of teenage boys might have passed through here. They were heading to the shore to surf the big waves brought in by the storm.”

“Never fails.” The woman folded her towel, set it on a cardboard box. “Get a group of young yahoos every time, wanting to prove themselves by downing a case
of beer and riding the waves. I don’t know who’s worse—them or the ones who head here and order hot fudge sundaes as if it were a Sunday outing.” The woman looked out at the group, her expression resigned.

Her gaze returned to Jesse and Amy. “A group of boys did come by, but it was earlier, after lunch. I’d say one, one-thirty. They ordered burgers, onion rings, milkshakes to go. They were keen to get on their way. There were four of them, I think. They had their surfboards strapped to the car.”

“You hear them say where they were heading?”

The woman shook her head. “They drove off south. Probably heading for Padre Point. That’d be my guess. Popular spot with the young set.”

“How far off is it?”

“About ten miles.”

“And you didn’t see them come back through?”

“They didn’t stop here if they did. But that’s not to say they didn’t ride a few big ones, have their fun and head home.”

Jesse glanced at the group gathered under the overhang. “What about these people?”

She shrugged. “There’s always a few who come out, thinking it’s fun and games. Damn fools.”

“What about you?”

“I’m heading to my sister’s in Three Rivers soon as I close up here.”

“Might want to make that soon.”

“As soon as I shut down the generator, I’m on my way.”

“Glad to hear it.” Jesse touched the brim of his hat again. “Thanks for your help.”

“Wish it was more,” the woman told them both.

Jesse and Amy moved away from the window, back to the group. “There’s an evacuation center set up at the Turning Point high school.”

“Last report said the storm shifted to the southwest,” an elderly man said. “We’ll see the wind and the rain, but down by the Mexican border will get the brunt of it.”

“That report was a while ago. Anything could have happened since communication went down. Even if the storm did turn, you’d be safer on higher ground.”

“Thanks, Sheriff. Good to know if things get too wild round here.”

“It’ll be too late by then.”

The older man, his face narrow and cheeks sunken by age, took a long pull on his beer. “Then I’ll be here to meet it.”

“Damn fool.” Jesse echoed the drive-in owner’s declaration beneath his breath. To the group, he said, “If any of you change your mind, we’ll be coming back through here after we check out the point. You can follow us or there’s room in the back if you want a ride.”

“Thanks, Sheriff, but if things start to get too wild, we’ll head to Hank’s house. Sixteen feet above ground, it’s plenty high enough not to worry about being washed away should the tidal surge hit.”

“What are you going to do when the winds rip the roof off?”

“We’ll be fine, Sheriff. Come on back down after this thing passes through. Bring the pretty lady and
we’ll all have a beer together and raise our bottles to Damon.”

“If I do, I expect you all to be here.”

“It’s a promise, Sheriff.”

Amy and Jesse headed back to the Bronco. Jesse took a final look at the group as he started the engine. Several waved. He released a frustrated sigh.

“Crazy old goats,” Amy said with such vehement disgust that Jesse half smiled as he steered into the storm. “Drinking beer and sitting around swapping fish stories as if this were no more than a Friday-night poker game. I hope they get the damn pants scared off them when the storm hits.”

“If it does hit, they’ll lose more than their pants.”

“Couldn’t you arrest them? Force them to take shelter?”

“Technically, they aren’t breaking any laws.”

“We should have strung them up like rodeo bulls, thrown them in the back of the Bronco and hauled their stubborn butts back to Turning Point.”

Jesse’s smiled widened against his wishes. “They’re men, not livestock.”

“Well, a rock’s got more common sense than the lot of them.”

“Maybe, but I’ve lived long enough in Turning Point to know when a man’s mind is made up, there’s little chance of changing it.”

Amy crossed her arms over her chest and huffed an indignant breath. “Sometimes stubborn is another word for plain pigheaded.”

He turned his face away, hiding the smile he’d con
cealed several times already. She’d been as fervent and fiery at eighteen, her passion no small part of her appeal. He’d had no doubt when she’d come to tutor him that she saw him as a quest, a confirmation of her fervent belief that any human being with enough grit and guts could accomplish anything. What he hadn’t realized was that she would make him believe it too. She would have sacrificed her dream for him. It was why he’d sacrificed his.

Jesse examined the sky again. Amy followed his gaze.

“There’s time,” she told him.

But neither knew how much.

A
MY ALLOWED
five minutes of silence before she began questioning Jesse again. His attempts to avoid answering her earlier questions had only increased her curiosity. She was determined to learn as much as she could about the sheriff.

“So, you never married?” she asked point-blank.

He gave her a long, level look.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you off the hook that easy?” She smiled. He didn’t.

“According to Lurie, you’re the catch of the county and the ladies are willing to wait in line for their turn.”

Jesse frowned, vertical lines forming between his brow. “I warned you not to put much stock in Lurie’s tales. She’s a great gal, but what comes from between those lips tends to be embellished, if you know what I mean.”

“She said you’re harder to hogtie than a prize-winning bull, but you let the ladies know that up front. A real gentleman. Only that makes them try all the harder.”

Jesse shook his head. Then, as if in surrender, he released a low chuckle. Amy smiled despite her realiza
tion he was charming her as easily as he had the female population of the lower Texas quadrant.

“Lurie thinks once you find the right girl, you’ll fall faster than a twenty-one-year-old at his first happy hour.”

“For once Lurie is right.”

Amy was surprised by his rare frankness. Encouraged, she continued. “You’re not afraid of commitment. You just haven’t found the right girl yet?”

“I didn’t say I hadn’t found the right girl yet.” He stopped as if realizing where the conversation was heading. “Are you always so damn nosy?”

“No,” she said, so self-righteously a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. He caught himself and continued scowling. However, she’d glimpsed the good-natured man beneath the frown. She suspected the sheriff was deliberately putting on an alternative face for her. She intended to find out the reason.

“Why the twenty questions?”

She ignored his question to ask one of her own. “So you found the right girl?”

He kept his attention on the highway, ignoring her.

“You did find the right girl but you didn’t realize it at the time?”

He gave a long sigh. She had decided he wasn’t going to answer, when he stared out into the fierce storm and said, “I realized it.”

His features seemed to give way and his strong face, handsome even in its scowling mask, filled with pain. As quick as it came, it was gone.

“What happened?” she said in almost a whisper.

“She was married,” he said without looking at her.

“And…” Amy hesitated. He glanced at her as if waiting. “There’s never been anyone else?”

“No,” he stated.

“You will never marry?”

Pain flickered across his features again. “It would be cruel to marry one woman when I loved another.”

“Did she love you?”

His voice softened. “She did.”

“Did she know you loved her?”

The smallest smile curved his mouth. “She did.”

“But she married someone else?”

The smile faded. “It wasn’t her fault.”

“Do you ever see her?”

He turned and looked at her. “Yes.”

“Is she happy?”

Their eyes met. “Yes,” he said. “She is.” He smiled as if the woman’s happiness was his.

Amy studied the man beside her. Several seconds of silence passed. “I’m sorry,” she told him.

He looked at her again, smiled softly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

They drove in silence. They were almost to their destination when Amy said, “I was married once, but it didn’t work out.”

“Jesus.” For the first time, the wind won. The Bronco swerved toward the road’s shoulder. Jesse’s arm shot out protectively across Amy. His other hand regained control of the vehicle and eased it back onto the highway.

Her simple statement had hit him like a shot to the
chest. His heart hammered against his ribs. The storm surged around them. The winds shrieked. The sky darkened in warning.
Don’t hope, Jesse.

He waited until he was certain his voice wouldn’t reveal him. “We must almost be at Padre Point.”

She smiled. “I’m not worried, Sheriff.”

He waited another minute before he could ask, “So, you’re divorced?”

“About four years now.”

His heart turned over.
Four years.
He kept his tone mildly interested. “What happened?”

She glanced at him as if surprised by his interest.

“Malcolm was a good man. Older than me, but then again, I’ve always been mature for my age.”

She threw in a wry smile that Jesse could not return.
Four years,
he thought.

“He was a professor.”

Jesse raised a brow.

She mocked his expression. “Don’t be shocked, Sheriff. He was only thirty-eight when we met.”

“How old were you?”

“Twenty-four.”

Jesse raised his other brow, causing her smile to widen.

“It wasn’t easy from the first. My friends found him dry and boring. I thought his friends pompous. But Malcolm represented everything I one day hoped to be—settled, established and successful in his career. And wise. Bottom-line, he was stable. And stable was everything I desired.”

Why?
Jesse asked silently. Because it was safer than
having your heart shattered by an insensitive teenager who had promised you the world and then disappeared. His own heart, which he had kept under lock and key for so long, contracted, confirming what he had feared when he’d stepped into the firehouse and set eyes on Amy. The heart he’d held still for so long had begun to beat again.

“Malcolm had lost his wife several years earlier to pancreatic cancer. He was kind and tragic. I was a struggling student, very serious. I was fortunate to have the support of my family, especially my aunt, who I lived with at the time, but…”

Her eyes turned vague, and a flatness had come into her voice. For a moment, Jesse feared she wouldn’t continue.

“We were both lonely, Malcolm and I. We respected and cared about each other, but loneliness is not a good foundation for a lifetime together. We thought we could give each other what we both craved.”

She stared out into the storm as if seeing her own past. “We were wrong,” she finished simply.

“How long were you married?”

“Let’s see.” She thought. “We married over the semester midwinter break in February. I was in my fourth year of medical school. I was twenty-five.”

They had just been newlyweds, Jesse realized. It had been more than seven years and countless operations before he had been strong enough to look for Amy. And after three months of searching, he’d finally found her. He’d called her telephone number in Courage Bay,
California, his heart slamming wildly with each ring. Her husband had answered.

That had been March seven years ago. What if he had called a month, six weeks earlier?

“Three years later, it was over,” Amy continued. “But it was an amicable divorce. Actually we’re still really good friends. He often comes and spends holidays with Ian and me.”

Jesse’s heart bottomed out. Amy had been divorced four years. She was a beautiful, smart, successful woman. Of course she’d be involved with someone else. Still, spending the holidays with your ex-husband and your new lover sounded a little too contemporary…even for California.

Perhaps the new relationship wasn’t that serious.
Don’t hope,
he told himself. But it had been hope that had driven him through the first seven years after the accident and played a large role in his remarkable recovery. The hope of being well enough, strong enough again to be the man Amy could love.

“And many times, Malcolm and Ian make plans and spend the whole weekend together. They’re both diehard Dodgers fans, while I’m afraid what I know about baseball could fit on the head of a pin.”

Jesse raised his brows. “Your ex-husband and your new boyfriend go to baseball games together?”

Amy released a sweet, soft laugh that made his blood hum. “Ian’s my son.”

Her son. Jesse’s hope spiked. Tiny shells and small pebbles being swept up by the wind clattered against the sides of the van as if echoing the confusion of emo
tions inside him. Maybe it wasn’t sheer coincidence that brought her to Turning Point. Maybe…

Don’t hope, Jesse.

He looked at the woman beside him. Too late.

“So, you aren’t involved with anyone now?”

“Are you always so damn nosy, Sheriff?” She pretended indignation, but her eyes twinkled like stardust.

“No.”

She looked out at the storm. Her smile disappeared. “No, I’m not involved with anyone. I learned my lesson.”

“What lesson was that?” He downshifted to maneuver a curve.

“Life doesn’t give you second chances.”

He had to tell her she was wrong. He had to tell her everything. When he had believed she was still married, he had feared the truth would have only served his own selfish needs and caused her pain and confusion. But now… His hand rested on the gear shift, close enough to take her hand in his. He opened his fingers.

“Jesse?”

He heard his name on her lips as if it were a dream. But her face was turned away to the window. She peered into the gray-green of the storm to the east. “Do you see something over there?”

He shifted his gaze the same direction as hers. A flash of red cut through the rain-whipped landscape. Slowing down, he steered toward the road’s shoulder to take a closer look. A large, long form was pressed flat against a tree. He peered into the vast gray scape, the rain making everything a blur. The wind took the
object and tossed it easily. On the object’s underbelly, Jesse saw the design of red and blue flames.

“It’s Michael’s surfboard. What’s left of it.” At least a third of the board was missing. He scanned the area.

“The wind must have ripped it off the car’s roof,” Amy said.

He made no comment, slowly easing the van back onto the road, searching for a sign of the boy or his friends. The wind pummeled the van, forcing it back toward the shoulder. Jesse struggled to control the vehicle as it veered. Spitting gravel joined the shells and pebbles clattering against the sides. The winds were too high, too strong. They passed a small marker. Padre Point. One Mile.

“We’re almost there,” Amy said with an encouraging smile. Neither commented on the increasing fury outside. The rain continued to fall, and the van’s headlights shone into the grayness. Beach houses clustered several hundred yards back from the shore. As the van rounded a curve, almost to their destination, Jesse saw a small, weathered A-frame building with a faded painted sign proclaiming The Sea Shack. Two hundred yards away the flat land formed a point and disappeared into the sea. Waves rose and fell violently, colliding with each other. Above, a thickening bank of clouds merged into a dark gray wall. Jesse parked at the sand’s edge, the van’s headlights slicing through the gloom. Pieces of a surfboard, blue and red, lay scattered on the sand until the wind caught them and carried them several yards. Otherwise the beach was deserted.

Jesse reached for the door handle. “I’m going to take a closer look.”

Amy reached for her door handle.

“Stay here.”

The expression on his face stopped her from arguing. She let go of the door handle and watched Jesse, the rain and sand and shells pelting his body. He leaned into the wind as he made his way to the shoreline. She watched him several seconds, then a movement in the side mirror caught her attention. A cloud was coming from the same direction they’d just traveled. It hung low, sliding across the flat length of the beach, black and purple and darker than the sky that surrounded it. At first, she thought it an illusion, the blurred images of water, sky and storm playing tricks with her vision, fueling her imagination like a child seeing ghouls in the night’s shadows. She shifted to see the low, flying saucer shape stand on its end, reaching out a long finger to skim the beach. She leapt out of the van and ran toward the shore where Jesse stood. He turned as she screamed his name, catching her as she stumbled, and drew her to the hard solid wall of his chest.

“What the—?” His arms automatically circled around her and she stayed in his embrace as she pointed out the long-fingered shape. It touched down and pulled up, as if determining if it was in the right place, then suddenly detached from the cloud, driven by a life of its own.

They stood watching it for a moment, fascinated as the shape wobbled back and forth across the flat shore as if trying to decide which way to go. Not until it
veered right, toward where they stood, did they move. Jesse’s arms still embracing her, Amy ran with him toward the A-frame two hundred yards from the shore. She glanced over her shoulder once, saw the long, spiny shape move up, touch down. They made it to the building, the world black around them. Jesse broke down the door and pulled Amy in. She swung around for one last look, saw a tree snap like a stick, felt the ground beneath the building tremble, then the building itself, the windows rattling in their frames. Jesse pulled her with him toward a door, looking for a crawlspace, but the building had been built on a slab.

“Lie down,” he yelled.

She did as he said, her body flat against the sand and grit that covered the floor. He arched over her, his body a breath from hers. She closed her eyes, the earth’s tremor moving through her. She listened to the sounds of things cracking and falling outside. She felt the wild thump of her own heart and that of the heart above her. Outside, the world roared like a creature in pain, its anguish eternal.

And then as swiftly as it had started, it was over. The world went still, the silence even greater after the fury. The only trembling was Amy’s involuntary shaking. Above her, Jesse shifted, rolled away from her. He laid a tentative hand on her shoulder and bent close.

“Amy? Are you okay?”

His breath whispered against her cheek, the concern in his voice thick. She tried to still the trembling, but her body would not cooperate. “I’m fine,” she said in a quivering voice.

“It’s moved on. It’s over for now.” He stayed close
to her, his warmth welcome. She turned her head to find him. His mouth, a mere inch from hers, took in a swift breath.