Storm Warning

CHAPTER Nine





The sign read, ‘Welcome to Oklahoma,’ but Tory didn’t feel welcomed. She sighed and stretched her legs out in the back seat. Gabe manned the wheel while Adam snoozed in the passenger seat with his headphones on. The muted sound of hard-rock filled the cab along with the soft country music Gabe had on. She envied her brother’s ability to sleep anytime, anywhere.

After this storm, Tory pondered as they rolled down the highway, she’d be speaking at an annual convention. She would have to go over her notes soon and polish her article. Maybe she would talk Gabe into printing some of the photos he’d taken.

The four thousand people rumored to be coming to the seminar would leave with knowledge on basic safety tornado precautions and even a brief enlightenment on how tornadoes were formed. They would be allowed to have a copy of their article signed by the Pirate’s and their picture taken with the team or with their equipment. No one would leave with nothing, Tory mused.

She thought of Phil and Ashley and was pleased to have succeeded in raising the entire three thousand dollars. The company Tory had contracted to install the cellar advised her they would be finished within the week. The team had all hugged Ashley and Phil in front of the WWBW News Crew and when all was said and done, Tory had tucked their photograph and thank you letter into her scrapbook with pride.

No, no one would leave with nothing.

“You awake?” she heard Gabe ask.

She didn’t have to answer, she mused. Being silent would buy her a little more time before she had to tell him everything. And she would tell him everything. She just wanted—what? She loved him and he deserved to know the truth. Besides, she mused, she was no coward.

“I’m awake.”

“It’s later,” he said quietly.

“I grew up right outside of Ada,” she began. “In fact, I still own the house I lived in—the one we’re staying at. I thought about selling it for the team, but a part of me just couldn’t let it go. I left three days after my parents died and haven’t been back since.”

“I thought you work at the diner?”

“I do. The diner’s in town. I was in foster care until I was eighteen. I ended up staying in town when I moved out of the foster home. I have an apartment above this flower shop down the road from the diner.”

Tory leaned her head against the window and smiled wistfully. Her studio apartment was probably as big as the bathroom of the two-story beach house he’d told her he owned. “I haven’t been back to my house since they died. I’ve been thinking about going back again since this was going to be the last year. I figure I’ve paid enough.”

Gabe’s gaze locked on hers in the rear view mirror. “Paid enough?”

“For my parent’s death.”

“Tory, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that.” She shifted in her seat as if preparing for battle. “But damn it, Gabe. Why didn’t it take me with them? I sat outside that day and watched that tornado come right for us. It took my Mom and Dad right in front of me.”

Tears were building behind her closed lids, but Tory plunged ahead. “I had to watch my Dad’s face when he realized it got him. Seconds later, I couldn’t see his face anymore. I heard my Mama scream for him and she ran into the tornado. And I waited for it to take me with them. It didn’t have the courtesy to take me, too. So don’t talk to me about blame and chance and and—and acts of God—because I already know.”

Gabe didn’t speak for a moment and she was grateful. She needed to get a hold on herself. Sighing, she wiped her cheeks, but the tears kept coming.

“So you’re punishing yourself for what? For living?”

“So to speak.” She exhaled a shaky breath. “Gabe, I can’t get over it. I can’t let them rest. It wasn’t fair.”

“No, it wasn’t fair. But what is chasing storms going to change about it?”

She thought of all the seminars she spoke at, the articles she’d written, the fundraisers she’d conducted. She was doing something.

“Absolutely nothing,” she admitted. “I’ve always known that. But if I can help people like Phil and Ashley and possibly even save their lives with storm cellars, or if I can teach one person and give them the knowledge of tornado safety procedures, it makes it easier.”

“So, it’s not about the chase? It’s about what opportunities the chase gives you?”

“More or less. I use chasing to open doors for me to get information out to people. It’s important to me. I like chasing, don’t get me wrong. But it’s hard for me to face down something that took so much away from me.”

He was quiet again and she almost thought he had finished talking. She wiped her eyes again and was relieved when no more tears came.

“You’re an incredible woman, Tory.”

She looked up to see his grey eyes watching her in the rear view mirror. Feeling better, she smiled at him. “You’re a pretty good guy, yourself.”





The storm rolled through Ada with a vengeance. No tornadoes were produced, but Gabe considered it a photographic success. As he packed away his equipment, Gabe wondered how Tory would feel about going out for the evening.

Adam strolled up to Gabe as he slid his tripod in the back of the truck.

“Get some good footage?” he asked.

Gabe secured the tailgate and turned around, resting his back up against it. He studied Adam through hooded lids. His hands weren’t still, his feet shuffled the dirt beneath them.

“Yes.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you…” He scratched his head. “How many megapixels are you working with?”

Gabe crossed his arms over his chest, amused that he was about to receive his first lecture about breaking a woman’s heart. “Fourteen.”

He nodded. “Mine’s a twelve. I’ve been thinking about upgrading.”

“I’ll let you use mine sometime. See how you like it.”

“Great. That’d be great.”

Painfully silent seconds ticked by. Adam cleared his throat and concentrated on his shoes. Gabe bit the inside of his cheek. “Was there something else, then?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you when my sister isn’t around.” Adam shuffled his feet and sucked in a breath. “I don’t have any practice with these sorts of things. I tried once, but it was lame.”

“I’m not going to hurt Tory,” Gabe told him as they climbed into the truck. “Where is she by the way?”

“She’s staying behind with Billy. They—ah—have something to talk about, too.”

Gabe nodded. “Well, go ahead. I’m listening.”

Adam scratched his head again. “I know Tory’s an adult. And I know she can damn well take care of herself… but I’m worried.”

“About?”

“Vance—”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “This conversation’s going to end before it starts if you’re going to start comparing me to that a*shole.”

“That isn’t what I’m doing.” Adam waved a hand, then replaced it on the steering wheel. “It’s just that going into the relationship, Tory was a bright-eyed innocent. The first time she found out Vance cheated, she was crushed. He kindly informed her that he’d never made her any promises and that was how it was going to be.”

Adam narrowed his eyes. “Have you made any promises?”

“We are exclusive.” Gabe told him.

“All right. I guess that’s good to know.”

“I’m also in love with her.”

Adam choked on the water he’d had been drinking. After clearing his throat a couple times, he patted his chest with his fist and grinned hugely.

“That is good to know. Does she know?”

“No.”

“Oh, well are you going to tell her?”

“Eventually,” Gabe shrugged. She wasn’t exactly wearing her heart on her sleeve. And he’d be damned if he got down on his knees to confess his undying love for her when he wasn’t sure if she’d appreciate it. Hell, she might even laugh in his face.

Adam laughed. “Don’t tell her you told me first. When I saw you haul her ass over your shoulder and take her to her room, I knew then you’d be almost good enough for her.”

“Almost good enough is as good as it gets, right?”

“Just about.”





“Stupid.” Tory muttered to herself as she walked down the side of the hill to retrieve a camera the crew had planted in the path of the storm that had just passed. “Who does he think he is?” She kicked a rock bad temperedly since it failed to move out of her way.

Billy Small had no concept of proper timing, Tory realized.

A last minute decision, he had said. All they needed was a booth to set up and a speech prepared for the convention—only a few days away. All traces of the recent storm gone, Tory squinted against the sun and scowled.

Speeches and articles were nothing new for her. She wrote them habitually throughout the year, more so in the off months of the chase. So what was she complaining about?

“I really hate my own self pity.” She bent to the ground to disassemble the camera and placed it in a black case.

So, Tory mused rising, she would put together a couple articles, ask Gabe to print some pictures, and mission accomplished. She’d planned to do something—on a smaller scale—like that anyway.

When she arrived back to the trucks, Frankie and the twins were busy packing up equipment. Billy was conveniently busy and one of the trucks was done.

“Where’d Gabe and my brother go?” she asked.

Kary looked up from the chart she’d been writing on. “They went on to the house. We’ve got the rest of that,” she gestured to the covered equipment, “to load, then we’ll head that way. Do you need anything? A bottle of water?”

“No, thanks.” Tory put the camera in the bed of the truck. “Let’s hurry ‘cause I’m starving.”