There was no doubt she’d know who had left them, and I wondered what would happen if the Other Guy found them. What story would she tell him? Had she mentioned me at all? Had she even thought about me in the last couple of weeks, or had I already become a half-remembered memory, colored with regret?
Trudging back to the SUV, I heard only the echo of my unanswered questions.
Chapter 14
Another weekend passed, another session with Bowen. I received the inspection report, met with the contractor on Tuesday, and he promised to get me a bid as soon as possible.
Because I hadn’t paid attention to the outside world in days, I had no idea a storm was imminent until heavy clouds and wind began rolling in, shortly after the contractor had departed. My first thought was that it would be a typical late-spring downpour, but after tuning in to the local news, I wondered how concerned I should actually be. Heavy rain and gusting winds were expected, with local schools canceling classes for the next two days. Live reports from Raleigh showed flooded roads, with numerous rescues already underway.
The first drops of rain fell within the hour; by the time I went to bed, it was coming down so hard that it sounded as though I were sleeping in a train station. When I woke the following morning, the storm had intensified to almost hurricane levels. The sky boiled with dark clouds and wind rattled the windows, the far side of the creek reduced to a mere shadow, obscured by the downpour.
For a while, I watched from the back porch, the splashing rain wetting my face. Finally retreating to the kitchen, I used a hand towel to dry off. I was just starting some coffee when I heard steady plinking sounds echoing throughout the house. Sure enough, I found a leak in the living room, two more in the guest room, and still another in one of the bathrooms. There were large circular stains in the ceilings and pieces of drywall were hanging in strips, indicating that the leaks had probably started overnight. How I’d missed them earlier was beyond me, but I backtracked to the pantry and kitchen to grab the mop bucket and three pots. I used the mop to dry the floor after putting the rain catchers in place, but the drips seemed to be increasing in speed.
I sighed. The roof needed a tarp, which meant I was going to end up outside in the deluge, probably for hours. I’d need bricks, too, to hold the tarp in place.
The day was just getting better and better.
Not.
I decided not to do a thing until after coffee. I tossed on an old T-shirt and sweatshirt, returned to the kitchen, and poured myself a cup of coffee. As I took a sip, I saw that my hands were trembling. Putting the cup down, I stared at my hands in fascination. Was it the thought of having to work outside in the rain? The journey upon which I was about to embark at Johns Hopkins? Or was it Natalie?
The answer seemed obvious, but as I stared, I was thankful that the trembling wasn’t as severe as it once had been. Still, it surprised me. Yes, I hadn’t been sleeping well and I’d recently cried for the first time in years. I admitted that I’d also been feeling edgy, but it was hard to remember the last time my hands went bonkers. They hadn’t trembled after my grandfather passed away, nor when I’d moved to New Bern. So why now? Natalie had ended things almost three weeks ago. How could the passage of time make things even worse?
Upon reflection, I knew the answer. My hands hadn’t trembled in the immediate aftermath of my wounds, either—it wasn’t until after all my surgeries that I began to notice various symptoms and that realization brought with it a ray of clarity. The explosion in Afghanistan blew up my future, and on some subconscious level, Natalie’s rejection—which blew up a different sort of future—was manifesting in the same sort of delayed reaction. I had no doubt that Bowen would assure me that I was right on the money. Hadn’t he asked me about it? Almost as if he’d expected them to begin trembling? Of course he had. He knew me so well. As hurt as I was, I still loved and missed Natalie.
I took a few deep breaths, made a series of fists, and little by little, the trembling subsided. Caffeine probably wasn’t a good idea, but so what? I liked coffee and drank two cups anyway. Then I grabbed a rain jacket on the way out the door. If anything, the storm had grown even stronger. The wind had picked up and opaque sheets of rain were blowing diagonally. In the SUV, I wiped water from my face and noted the puddle on the seat I made after getting in.
Water was already six inches deep in parts of the driveway, and the road was only slightly better. Even with my wipers on high, I had to lean over the steering wheel and I kept my speed well below the limit. When a truck passed heading in the opposite direction, it sent a wave over the windshield and I had to hit the brakes so I wouldn’t veer off the road. It was like driving through a blustery car wash, and with gusts shaking the car, I knew that even bricks wouldn’t be enough to keep the tarp from flying to Oz. I’d need cinder blocks, making each trip up the ladder that much more exciting.