Forecast (10 page)

He waited for a general agreement, but instead everyone looked uncomfortable. Taye played with his pen, and Michelle started coughing. He turned to Shin, who motioned towards the door. Mac realized Rowie was standing behind him, looking embarrassed and hurt.

She mustered as much dignity as she could. “I just wanted to apologize for letting you down.”

Everyone murmured that she hadn’t, and prayed she’d leave quickly. Michelle turned her attention to some lint on her pants. Taye put his pen down and stared out the window.

“About what I just said …” Mac was apologetic. He felt like he’d been caught kicking a kitten.

Rowie stared at him with a mix of understanding and defiance. “Don’t worry. I’m used to it.”

Mac paused, unsure what else to say. He felt for the girl. She was gorgeous, and sweet. Obviously a few sandwiches short of a picnic, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hurt her.

“Rowie …” he started, but was interrupted by Taye.

“Mac?”

“Wait a sec, Taye.” Mac smiled at Rowie and prayed he didn’t look as patronizing as he felt. “Perhaps we can get you a guest spot on a psychic network infomercial.”

“Mac?” Taye tried again.

Mac ignored him. “Have you heard of Brigid and Lugh Dee? witches apparently. They have a talk show. We could organize an appearance for you on that.”

Rowie felt she’d rather pass a kidney stone. “No, thank you.”

“Mac!” Taye yelled.

“What?” Mac turned and found the others staring out the window. “Holy hell!”

He walked across the room, speechless. Michelle, Jess, Shin and Taye joined him at the window.

“It’s a tornado,” whispered Michelle.

A small, but impressive-looking tornado was forming on the other side of the glass. It began to move towards the street. Spinning, dancing, stirring, it propelled itself along 6th Ave. People screamed and fled. A bike courier slammed into a wall. The tornado uprooted a sidewalk tree and hurled it onto the hood of a taxi. Traffic came to a complete standstill as everyone ran from their cars.

All of a sudden it changed course and headed back towards the USBC building. With their noses pressed against the glass, they all watched as it hurtled under them. It took out a whole street corner: a car, some souvenir tables, a—

“Watch out,” screamed Mac, as something came flying towards them.

Everyone dived under the table, just as a hotdog stand smashed through the window. Glass exploded everywhere; the hotdog stand tumbled around, and then came to rest on top of the table they were all crouched under.

The room was silent for a moment, apart from the sound of a distant siren. One by one the news team dragged themselves to standing. They noticed Rowie, still in the doorway, a smile on her face.

Everyone stared, dumbstruck. They seemed to be waiting for her to say something, waiting to be reassured.

“Told ya,” she said.

Rowie shut the front door and slipped her shoes off. The Grove was deathly quiet and dark. Strange, she thought. Suddenly a light came on and …

“SURPRISE!”

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh,” Rowie screamed. “Oh my … what the …?”

Lilia, Petey and Angel were huddled together with goofy grins on their faces.

Rowie’s heart pounded. “You scared me. What are you doing?”

“Celebrating,” laughed Angel as she gave Rowie a hug. “You’re a TV star now.”

“More like a TV joke. Did you see me fall over?”

“No … didn’t notice,” lied Petey.

“Oh bullshit, Petey,” said Angel. “You guffawed like a donkey when she tripped.”

“I did not,” said Petey, horrified. “You did.”

Angel smiled with mock-guilt. “Okay, I admit I had a chuckle.”

“It was so embarrassing,” groaned Rowie.

“Everyone trips,” said Lilia.

“Not on national television.”

“I think when people trip like that in public it makes them appear more human,” comforted Lilia.

Angel agreed. “And you did it with such grace.”

Rowie laughed. “Thanks for the support, but it will still take years to get over.”

Lilia took Rowie’s hand and led her into the kitchen where some snacks and bottles of wine were waiting on the table. They sat and Angel poured Rowie a drink.

“I think you need this.”

“To Rowie’s new career,” Petey began, and then, “Do you still have a job?”

“Yes. There was a tornado on 6
^th
Ave a couple of hours ago.”

“Of course,” said Lilia.

“You saw it on TV?” asked Rowie.

“No, but I knew there’d be one if you predicted it.”

Rowie smiled at her mother, grateful for such utter faith. She took a sip of her wine and relaxed back in her chair. She’d made it through the first show—just—and had a lot of people backtracking and apologizing. The network had been inundated with calls and emails from viewers who loved her. USBC’s executive producer phoned Mac, thrilled that they’d been the network to break the tornado story. Jess told Rowie to unpack her things and leave them in the dressing room.

Even Tina apologized for screaming at her—“My blood sugar levels dropped … sorry …”

Rowie still felt wound up, but she was also excited. She had been handed an amazing opportunity. For years she’d dreamt of an adventurous life, so she fully intended to grab hold. She truly felt her life was on track … finally. Now she just needed to meet a man who could kiss her without Cinema’s Magic Moments playing in her head, and life would be perfect … Apart from her moody grandmother, that is. It hurt that Gwendolyn was MIA tonight.

Lilia and Angel were giving Petey a pep talk about his looks.

“You know, Petey, you’re not unlike Arthur Miller to look at, and he married Marilyn Monroe,” said Angel.

“The way I feel now, I’d settle for someone who looks like Marilyn Manson.”

“It’s not your physical appearance that’s stopping someone from falling in love with you,” Lilia insisted. “It’s how you feel about your appearance that can be ugly. You get what you expect in life, Petey. If you expect people to find you unattractive, then they will.”

“I think you’re a bit of a spunk. Especially after I’ve had a few glasses of wine,” winked Angel.

“But look at me.”

“I do,” said Lilia. “Every day. And I think you are one of the loveliest men I’ve ever seen.”

Petey blushed. “Thank you … but loving yourself is easier said than done.”

“I know,” Lilia agreed. “But you’ll get the hang of it.”

While the others were speaking, Rowie decided to duck upstairs and see her grandmother. Gwendolyn was propped up in bed, reading the latest edition of
Pagan Monthly.
She raised one finger to her lips. “Shhh, your grandfather is asleep.”

“Are you okay, Gran?” Rowie whispered.

“I’m fine. Soldiering on,” Gwendolyn replied weakly.

Rowie noticed a bottle of sherry on the dresser. She obviously wasn’t too sick for a nightcap. “Did you watch me tonight, Gran?”

Gwendolyn pretended to wonder what Rowie was talking about. “Oh the news? Well, I was so busy … Did it go well?”

Rowie looked gutted. “It was okay.”

“Lovely. Well, if that’s all, I’d better go to sleep. I have a lot of extra work to deal with while you’re doing the TV thing.” Gwendolyn put the magazine on her bedside table and switched the lamp off.

“Okay.” Rowie started to close the door, and then stopped. “I love you, Gran.”

Gwendolyn squeezed her eyes shut. “And I love you, Rowena.” She ignored the urge to reach out to Rowie, and listened as the door clicked shut.

Almost immediately, Dorian opened his eyes. “That was mean.”

“Oh leave me alone,” she snapped.

He didn’t. He just lay there staring at her.

“You don’t understand, Dorian. I was forced into this life …” Gwendolyn clapped a hand over her mouth, shocked. “Not forced … I don’t mean that I ever doubted that this was my path … but I had other dreams as well. I wanted to open a shoe shop. But you can’t have a psychic shoe shop, can you?”

Dorian was silent. He didn’t judge. Gwendolyn was doing that to herself.

“Our work is important, Dorian,” Gwendolyn sighed and felt defeated. “Oh lord, I was never this grumpy before you left. Something died inside me that day.”

“I came back, didn’t I?”

“True. But for how long?” Gwendolyn sat up and turned to Dorian. “I live in constant fear, Dorian, that I’ll wake up one day and you’ll be gone again.”

“That’s why you’re hanging on so tightly to Rowie. And it’s not fair to her.”

Gwendolyn rolled over. “Life’s not fair. You taught me that.”

*

Rowie played with the stem of her glass, and tried to keep up with the conversation. She smiled in all the right places, but she’d hit a slump. Her heart wasn’t in it. It was too busy hurting. She didn’t understand why her grandmother was so angry with her. She was just about to excuse herself and go to bed when her thoughts drifted to Drew. What if he hated what she did? And why did it matter to her?

Rowie tossed back her wine—Dutch courage—walked out to the hallway phone and called the operator.

“Plankaville Medical in Florida please.”

She scrawled down the number and then dialed Drew before she changed her mind.

*

Drew couldn’t sleep, despite being medicated to the eyeballs. He was not the type of guy who relaxed easily. He didn’t like lying around doing nothing. He may work in television, but he rarely watched it. He was outdoorsy. He liked to surf, hike, ski and play basketball. He was addicted to adrenaline sports, and had his pilot’s license. He was happiest hitting the road, air or open water. Being attached to something akin to a medieval torture machine was like a slow boat to insanity, and he simply didn’t know how to fill the time.

The phone rang and he grabbed it, hoping it was Jess or Mac with more information about the tornado. “Drew Henderson.”

It wasn’t Jess or Mac, but a soft, melodic voice he recognized immediately.

“Hello Drew … This is Rowie.”

Suddenly all the anger he felt towards her dissolved. He was glad she rang. He needed answers. “How did you know about the tornado?”

“I don’t know. I never question how I know, I just do.” She paused for a moment. “It wasn’t the most auspicious start to a TV career.“

“I’d say being the only person working in weather that predicted a Manhattan tornado was a hellova auspicious start.”

“I mean the … the way I fell.”

There was a catch in her voice, and he needed to fix it. “You’re talking to a guy who fell through a roof on national TV.”

Rowie giggled, which made Drew laugh and suddenly they were both in hysterics.

“So Rowie, did you enjoy your trip?”

“I did. And listen Drew, why don’t we meet again next fall?” Rowie wiped tears from her eyes. “I was lying there on that floor, wishing it would open up and swallow me.”

“The roof I was standing on did.” Drew suddenly felt ridiculously happy for someone in his situation. “But I think I win. I’m in traction … it gives me the edge.”

“Oh alright, you win.” There was a comfortable pause. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better.” Strangely enough, he was.

“I just wanted to see what you … Anyway … I’d better go.”

No … don’t
. “Oh … Okay.”

“It was good talking to you, Drew.”

He liked the way she said his name. “You too, Rowie. Good luck with the show.”

Drew placed the phone back on the bedside table and sighed. He was actually tired now. Calm. He squeezed his eyes shut and imagined the gentle rocking of his boat. He could almost hear the slap of the water on the side. Then, just as sleep snatched him away, Drew remembered Rowie’s clear green eyes … and he wondered what it would be like to gaze into them for all eternity.

The next few weeks flew by for Rowie. Each new day was a joy. Suddenly she found herself bounding out of bed, raring to get to work. Sometimes she’d stop by the shop on the way, but as Gwendolyn’s greetings became colder, Rowie stopped by less.

The whiteboard outside the shop was gathering dust. She’d written an apologetic message on it, asking her regulars to turn on the TV if they wanted to see her weather predictions. She missed her morning neighborhood forecast, but her USBC contract stipulated that she stop while she worked for them.

Day by day, Rowie became more comfortable in front of the camera. She finally got the hang of the Chromakey, and stopped worrying that she was going to make a fool of herself. She was so likable that everyone took time to explain the more technical aspects of meteorology. It wasn’t part of her job description, but she was eager to learn all she could about meteorology. Each morning, she pieced together her own predictions using technology rather than intuition. She would sit at a computer and study the models, satellite images, the radar and precipitation. Then she’d put some maps together, based on what she saw, and the other meteorologists would give her a score. She picked it up quickly, but found it more difficult than just ‘tuning’ in to the weather.

She also spent time getting to know her co-workers—and they appreciated that. She especially liked Shin, and often had a drink with him after work. Shin was the only child of a Japanese scientist and an American artist. He’d grown up around Berkley, so was an interesting mix of California creativity and Japanese calm. He was great fun, and incredibly good looking, but he was not for Rowie. She didn’t even have to kiss him to know that.

Jess was the one coworker she couldn’t figure out. She was smart, driven, and when it came to work, unrelenting, but she had little patience for most of the women she worked with, including Rowie. To be fair, she helped Rowie in whatever way she could, and worked hard to make the Psychic Weather Woman spot a hit, but she was as warm as an Arctic winter.

Rowie quickly moved from being a nervous outsider, to part of the team. She enjoyed every minute of the job and was determined to completely milk the experience. She spent much more time than necessary at the station, finding long hours at the office preferable to the situation with her grandmother at home.