Wiping her eyes, she ran the last few steps to the house and ducked under the eaves. Her hands were freezing cold as she opened the door, went inside, and slammed the door shut behind her. Wind rattled the windowpanes and clattered across the shake roof.
She flicked the switch by the door, and the light came on.
Just then lightning flashed in the window. Somewhere close by a tree cracked open and crashed to the ground.
The lights went out.
For a split second, she panicked. Jack always took care of the house during a storm. He found the flashlights and lit the candles and started the fire. Elizabeth didn’t even know if there were any candles handy, or if they were all in boxes somewhere.…
What if she went looking for them and fell through that rotten place in the floorboards by the guest bathroom?
Woman found stuck in broken floorboards; dead for days before body discovered.
She took a deep breath. “Okay. First things first. You need to start a fire and find some candles.”
She focused on those two tasks, feeling her way through the house, slowly. Without the furniture, there was nothing to hang on to. Just outside the back door, she found a stack of firewood. Thank God Jack took care of things like this.
Clutching the wood, she inched back into the kitchen, where she found yesterday’s newspaper. At the fireplace, she arranged everything in the hearth. Then she felt up the stones for the tin matchbox holder, found it, and struck a match.
Within a few moments, she had a great fire crackling in the hearth. A red glow spilled across the center of the room, and just that easily, her fear dissipated.
She waited awhile, with her hands outstretched before the heat. When she was sure it was a good, solid fire, she went in search of supplies. In the pantry, way in the back, beneath a stack of area phonebooks, she found a box full of emergency candles and out-of-date calendars. She placed the candles along the mantel and on every windowsill. When she was done, the house was bathed in a beautiful golden glow.
She felt like Tom Hanks in Cast Away.
I … have made … fire.
She grabbed the sleeping bag she’d recently purchased, unzipped it, and wrapped it around her, shawl-like. Then she went out onto the porch to watch the storm.
She’d never done anything like that. Always, she’d been afraid of nature’s furies. It was another trait she wanted to shed. In the past days, she’d come to understand the importance of upheaval. The tallest mountains were created by violence and chaos; like them, a woman’s independence was born of fire.
Out to sea, thick gray clouds rolled ominously across the sky; their passing was reflected in a kaleidoscope of shadow on the water’s turbulent surface. Wind whistled through the tree limbs, scattering dead leaves and pine cones.
It was all so loud: crashing waves, howling wind, rattling glass, hammering rain. Now and then a limb would crack away from its tree and fall to the ground with a thwack.
She loved every moment of it. Watching it from here on the porch, instead of burrowed in the safety of her house, made her feel changed, somehow. Stronger.
After a while—she’d lost all track of time—a strange sound came into the storm. At first Elizabeth couldn’t place the noise, it was so out of place and her musings had gone so deep. Then she looked up and saw two headlights in the darkness and recognized the roar of a car’s engine.
She stood up, wrapping the sleeping bag more tightly around her as she stepped into a corner full of shadows.
The driver was probably lost … would turn around in the driveway and disappear.
The car stopped. The headlights snapped off, and the yard was plunged into darkness again. The porch was a small oasis of orange light.
The car door opened. Someone got out.
Elizabeth realized sharply, suddenly, how vulnerable she was out here. All alone. No phone. No one to come looking for her …
The stranger crossed the yard and stepped into the light.
Jack.
Rain flattened his hair and dripped down the sides of his face. He tried to smile, but it was tired and didn’t reach his equally tired eyes. “Hey, Birdie.”
She felt smaller somehow, just standing in front of him. She wished she were surprised to see him, but she thought maybe she’d been expecting him.
Still, she felt an odd reluctance to let Jack in. It was theirs, this house, but in the past few days it had become hers, and she’d become surprisingly possessive of her new solitude. “Come in before you drown.”
He followed her into the house. Inside, she saw him look down for the rag rug that belonged in front of the door. It wasn’t there.
Rain sluiced down his pant legs and formed a puddle.
“You better get out of those wet clothes. You’ll catch a cold,” she said matter-of-factly. It had always been her pattern—take care of him. “I’ll get you a robe.” She turned away from him and went upstairs.
She opened the closet door and pulled the robe off its hanger. Then she spun around and slammed into Jack.