Beyond the Storm (9780758276995) (26 page)

With his body now atop her, his hips moving with frantic, energetic motion, she dug her nails into his slick back, scratching at his heated skin as she held on, waiting, waiting . . . and then he exploded, his cries shaking the bed, the room, her very soul. Legs wrapped tightly around him, she urged him more, more, asking him to give her every bit of himself. When at last he rolled off her and sought air, Vanessa smiled at him as she rested her head upon his heaving chest, enjoying the rough hair, sweaty but dense like a pillow.

“I think it's good there are no other houses nearby,” she said.

“I think you're right,” he replied, his words coming between breaths.

Her eyes darted about the room; she noticed the candles had burned down halfway, waxy strips sticking to the sides like frozen tears. For a second she felt at a loss for words, emotions taking hold inside her chest, her lungs. How had things between them progressed so deeply in such a short amount of time? Were the discovered love letters such an aphrodisiac? Her days of one-nighters and foolish behavior were long past her now, she was a grown-up and thus responsible. . . . right? How was it that she lay in bed with Adam Blackburn now, and not for the first time today? Though what had transpired between them this afternoon was a mere footnote compared to the intensity they had brought to their lovemaking just now. Before had been about comfort, about realizing you were alive after the crash of metal, and as such each had brought their own baggage to that earlier passion. Now they had been one; a piece of magic had been conjured at some point this night. Thanks to a tale of lost love, they now were able to open up and experience what they had denied themselves for so long. A simple reunion was all that she had intended, now taken on new depth, new dimensions. As she lay there, safe and secure in his arms, she tried not to wonder what came next, didn't want to ask, hoped her voice would not intrude upon this moment. But she knew it would, and it did.

“Morning's coming,” she said.

“Eventually,” Adam said, kissing her forehead. “Many hours remain.”

“For what?”

“For us, and us alone.”

“And Venture. And Aidan.”

“Yes. They are here, in our hearts, and maybe our souls.”

“You still think it's odd . . . the coincidence of their names, our names. The initials . . .”

“Let's just say if anyone was meant to experience a day like today at Aidan's house, it's us. To discover the old trunk, the letters . . .”

“The dress . . .”

“Yes, the dress. It was us, this was all meant for us.”

“It's a beautiful story, and a wonderful lesson they left us. But morning comes, reality sets in. Then what?”

Silence settled between them, as though neither wished to answer the question. Their constant shadows flickered on the walls from the diminishing candles, giving them tenuous life but no voice, as though through their wavering shapes lived an uncertain future. A simple breeze could douse all the light in the room.

At last Adam said, with a kiss to seal his spoken wish, “Can we figure everything out later . . . then? Here, in the golden glow of Aidan and Venture's world, I've found contentment. The real world has no place here.”

“Can we beat it?”

“Beat what?'

“The real world . . . your life and mine, we live such opposite ones . . . jobs, friends, cities.”

He put a finger to her delicate lips. “Our lives are in limbo, Vanessa, isn't that why we traveled this far, twenty years into the past and beyond, to rediscover who we are and what's really waiting for us out there? Could we really be the lost souls of Aidan and Venture, finally reuniting? Or are they just a fantasy in which to indulge ourselves? We've already lived separate lives, and now maybe the world is giving us a chance at something new, something together. Is that something you want?”

“Yes,” she said, “and yes, I know it sounds crazy to say that, but after what we've been through . . .”

“Words can't explain it,” he said. “So let's not look for any.”

She snuggled closer to him, kissed his chest. “I don't feel that chill, not now.”

He actually let out a little laugh. “How could you? We practically set the bed on fire.”

“I like that image, that warmth.”

He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her to him, kissed her lips and her neck.

“Again?” she asked.

“You said it . . . morning is coming, and sooner than we would like. I say, let's wake up the sun, show it what heat really feels like.”

Vanessa smiled, her emerald eyes finding solace in his earnest face. “I like the way you talk. I like the way you think.”

“I like the way you are,” he said.

As the candles burned down to stubs and the moon began to descend over the horizon, as the next day threatened to arrive and disrupt what they had staved off so far, Vanessa smiled and she laughed and she opened herself once more, allowing Adam inside her again, inside her heart and deep inside her entire body, journeying to the mysterious place where her once unattainable soul dwelled. Here he was, now, this man who had once changed her life, living inside a portion of her she thought closed off years ago, changing her, opening her, again . . . again, and again.

Perhaps they were themselves. Perhaps the night knew other secrets.

The candles flickered, light suddenly gone to black. Words reverberated against darkened walls. Shadows returned.

“
Aidan . . .”
came a voice of untold pleasure.

“
Oh, my love, my dearest Venture . . . I knew you would come back to me . . .”

A
dam Blackburn woke to sheer darkness, as though a blanket covered him, a shroud hampering any available light. Distant sounds caused him to stir, but what those sounds were he could not discern. His eyes sought out anything familiar but came up with nothing. He rubbed at them, hoping to wipe them of lingering sleep. Just how long had he been asleep? Had the night passed and a cloud-covered morning risen? Or was it still the middle of the night, which might explain why he remained encased in this obsidian shield. He reached across the bed, discovered he was alone. Vanessa, who had fallen asleep in his arms, she had left at some point. Why? Had their intense lovemaking tonight . . . last night . . . whatever time it had taken place . . . had it all been too much, had it left her with a hole in her heart? Had they exposed too much to each other? Expected too much after discovering Aidan's secret letters? Had they bought in to fantasy? Was it too soon in their newfound relationship, or perhaps even too late, for them?

Sitting up on his elbows, Adam surveyed the room. That sound came again, like crying. He thought he could detect a whirring coming from the outdoors; it was too far away for him to decipher its source. But at least his eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness; he could see a figure sitting across from him on a wooden chair, a fluffy cushion on its seat. Dressed again in Venture's old, willowy dress, her arms wrapped around legs that rested on the edge of the chair, Vanessa held a faraway look in her eyes.

“You okay?” he asked.

She turned, her gaze falling upon him. He saw her nod, trying for a smile but ending up with a shrug. Indifference or uncertainty on her part, he couldn't be sure. Finally, she said, “Cold, still. Or again.”

“Well, you're dressed only in that threadbare dress in an unheated house. How long have you been sitting there?”

“Beats me. I just needed . . . I don't know. To think.”

“You could continue your thinking here,” he said, smoothing down the ruffled blanket. “Come back beside me, get under the covers, and let me fold you into my arms. I enjoyed that, you know, having you next to me in this bed.”

A smile finally graced her otherwise worried face. “Me too.”

“But you woke up anyway.”

“I don't know how long I slept.”

“Time doesn't seem to mean anything right now, does it?”

That she agreed with. “It hasn't all day. Why start now? The sun has yet to come up.”

“So I hear,” he said.

“You hear the sun?”

“No. It's the rain. I hear the rain.”

“Like yesterday,” she said.

“Exactly like yesterday,” he said.

“Something's weird, Adam. I thought the storm would have swept out by now, that with a new day, I don't know . . . is it too much to ask for some ray of sunshine? I feel like I've been underwater for forever,” she said, again curling her bare feet beneath her body, for warmth, for security. “Something's wrong.”

Separated not just by the distance in the room but by something indefinable that hung in the air, he knew she was right. “I feel it too.”

“Adam, where are we?”

“What do you mean?”

“I've been thinking . . . about the stories we read in those letters, about the onetime owner of this house. About Aidan Barton, whose grave we found in the backyard. He's here, I feel like . . . like he's been watching us. Or better, guiding our actions, wanting us to learn about his undying love for Venture. Venture, I've been thinking about her a lot too . . . I feel bad for her, and for him. For all they were denied. That's why I put the dress back on. In a way, I feel close to her.”

“Venture Mercer. Aidan Barton. It's quite a coincidence.”

“It's scary, is what it is.” She paused, then said, “Plus, everything else that's happened, it's just left my mind swirling, like I'm living inside some cocoon. The accident . . . our finding refuge in this farmhouse, the rain and the fireplace, the fresh corn in the fields and the wine that appears seemingly out of our wishes, no phones and no people, what does all this mean? We've had no communication with the outside world all day or all night. No one, as far as we know, has discovered our cars. It's like we exist on our own plane. Almost like our reunion isn't really ours.”

“It's Venture's and Aidan's?”

“Does that make sense?”

“Not a bit.”

“But . . .”

“But that doesn't mean I disagree with you. Those silly comments about reincarnation I made, I was just having a bit of fun at our expense and our situation. Now, though . . . it gives one pause. It's like we were supposed to stumble upon that old trunk—waiting for us all these years. And only us.” He paused, giving a listen to the rain again. It had grown louder. “I know how weird this has been, but it's definitely morning and I suppose we'll figure out whatever together. You hear that, Vanessa, together. No more running off into the night.”

“Into the cornfield,” she said, smiling.

“From the porch,” he said. “From the fire, from the cupola . . .”

“Why do I always run?”

That he couldn't answer. “What do you want to do now?”

“I wish I knew.”

Just then the rainfall picked up. Earlier the pitter-patter sounds were like a cooling shower and now the downpour intensified, beating against the gabled roof, against the windows, threatening to spill over the windowsill and into their world. As he looked out the window, Adam noticed a flash of light outside; he waited, knowing instinctively what it was. Lightning. He was right, because a beat later he heard the deep rumble of thunder, a hearty cough rupturing across the sky. Another summer storm, just as fierce as yesterday's, or maybe, improbably, the same one. For a moment he was transported back to when he was seven when that great storm had knocked over his swing set, destroying it before grabbing hold of poor old Mrs. Woodson and sweeping her down the street to her eventual demise. How appropriate, he thought, for this new morning to start where yesterday had ended, complete with his earliest memory of death. He'd come full circle.

Through the open window came a burst of cool air, causing the curtains to billow inward. Adam saw Vanessa curl up even more in an effort to fight off the chill. Getting up from the bed, he knelt before her, his warm hands rubbing her toes. She smiled down at him, tousled his already messy bed head. It was a sweet gesture between two people who knew actions spoke as loudly as their words, perhaps said even more about the newfound bond between them.

“Is it really possible,” he said, “you know . . . us.”

“Sshh, Adam, let's not go there. Not now. I mean, I have those same concerns . . . but let's not put those words out there, not yet.”

He leaned in, kissed her.

A lashing echo that spread across the morning sky broke their kiss. The same whirring, whirling sound that had stirred Adam from his otherworldly sleep, whatever it was now grew closer. And closer still. He looked up, his ear cocked like a dog hearing something humans couldn't. Even Vanessa heard it now, coming out from her distant funk as she was.

“What is that?” she asked.

It was his turn to shush her. She clammed up, allowing him to listen with more intensity. They were far up on the hill, and the outside sounds were easily deafened by the copse of trees that stood like sentries before the old house. Had they been in the back of the house or living room, they might not have even registered any noise. But on the second floor, inside the front bedroom and with the window open to the world beyond them, sound traveled. It was growing closer, coming from the road.

“It's a siren . . .” he said.

“Our cars,” Vanessa said, leaning forward. “They've been found, rescue is just beyond the door. Come on, Adam, let's get back down to the crash site so we can let them know we're okay. They can take us to a hotel and we can shower and eat like . . .”

“Like a normal couple.”

Despite the circumstances, she laughed. “Yeah, that I don't think we are.”

Quickly he donned a T-shirt and jeans from the floor before racing out of the room in his bare feet. His ankle no longer bothered him. Vanessa too had bare feet, and she was still dressed in the flimsy remnants of the dress. Down the stairs they both went and out the door, beyond the porch and into the cool air. Storm clouds rumbled by, rain pelted at them, but neither acted as a deterrent. There was no telling what time of day it was. No moon and no sun were evident; a gray pall hung over them.

“Vanessa, wait . . .” Adam said, pausing to catch his breath as much to assess the situation. He gave another listen; this time there were multiple sirens, whether ambulance or fire truck or perhaps both, they sounded as though they were nearing the field where they had crashed their cars. The rescue workers wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon, so what was their rush?

He halted in his tracks, watching again as Vanessa continued toward the crash site. Why wasn't he as anxious as she to be rescued? Because he didn't want their precious time together to end. Could she not wait to be found? Indecision hit him like a brick. A hollow feeling settled inside him as he realized that their night was indeed over, perhaps too all they had shared. They had been living a fantasy inside that farmhouse, and here came reality screaming back into their lives. He turned, looking back at the solemn façade of the farmhouse; how quiet it looked now, unoccupied and alone, almost like the ghost of Aidan Barton was all that remained inside those walls. Against the dark backdrop, it was a mere studio set, ready to be torn down. The movie was over. Or had at least reached its penultimate scene.

That's when Adam regained his traction on the wet, muddy lawn, and he began to chase after Vanessa, who had already reached the road's shoulder. The grass was slippery against his bare feet, but he knew the paved road would be worse on them. Hell, there was an ambulance on the other end to take care of any cuts or bruises. If bloodied feet was the worst either of them suffered, lucky them.

The hard road had slowed Vanessa down, and so Adam was able to catch up to her. She said nothing, just kept walking with determination, her steps ginger against rough tarmac. With silence walking beside them, they made slow progress along the rain-slickened road. The breeze picked up, nearby cornstalks wavering in the wind. No cars zoomed by. It was still just them alone in the world, at least for now.

As they rounded the sharp bend in the road, the sight they came upon appeared surreal. Swirling red lights illuminated the closed-off road, and three trucks—one fire, two ambulances—were positioned strategically to keep any onlookers, not that there were any on this desolate road, from rubbernecking at the accident scene. The only people who appeared to be present were the rescue workers: several firemen in their protective gear accompanied by a couple of EMTs, all of them scurrying around the crash site like ants under a hot sun. Vanessa tugged on Adam's sleeve, pointing to just beyond the trucks where a lone car had pulled onto the road's rocky shoulder. A middle-aged couple stood beside the car, holding each other with nervous apprehension while they addressed one of the firemen. They were pointing toward a shredded field of corn.

“They must be the people who came upon the accident and called for help,” Vanessa said. “Let's go up to them and tell them who we are. That we're okay.”

“Wait, Vanessa. Let's just see how this plays out.”

“Why? We were the accident victims, we're not going to be in the way.”

She started forward, but Adam reached out for her hand in an attempt to keep her back. With one quick motion she wrenched her arm free of him. “Over here,” she called out, waving her arms in the air. “We're okay, we're right over here.”

No one turned to her. None of those gathered at the accident scene appeared to even hear her. The couple continued to point, and then the fireman nodded before rejoining his team.

Vanessa turned back. “Adam, why didn't they respond?”

“I don't know . . . but like you said earlier, something's definitely weird. Can we do it my way, please, and hang back? See what happens?”

“This makes no sense,” she said.

“It hasn't from the start.”

She stood beside him, her arms wrapped around her torso, staving off the chill from the rain that continued to fall around them and penetrate their skin. Adam took a step forward, then another. Vanessa asked him what he was doing and he assured her he'd be right back, to just wait there. For once, she didn't run and she didn't argue, she merely stood her ground while Adam inched closer to the accident scene. He could hear the voices of the rescue workers.

“Yeah, chief, the one car is turned on its side,” said a burly guy with a thick mustache, a heavy ax over his thick shoulder. “Over there, in that cornfield. Skid marks on the road show the driver tried to apply the brakes at the last minute. Probably what made him turn sideways.”

“Let's get the hell over there, see if we can find the driver,” said the older chief, nodding, taking command of the situation with authority. He pointed, instructing several of his men to check on Adam's car to see what they could uncover. Adam found himself trailing after them. What he noticed sent an alarming, bone-felt chill throughout his body. Because the fact of the matter was that no one was paying him any attention; his presence had gone undetected. It was like he'd turned invisible, like he wasn't even there. He decided not to attempt to talk to anyone. If they hadn't heard Vanessa and they hadn't seen him, what did it matter?