Suddenly,
rain splattered the windshield, making it impossible to see. John muttered
a soft curse, slowed the Corvette again and flipped on the windshield wipers.
This was the third time he’d gone from no rain to sudden downpour on the drive
home.
He sent the staff home at noon today, at least those who had showed up. Many had called in, insisting they needed to make preparations for the coming storm. Most had talked to his secretary, not him. She had stayed until he left at 2:30, saying with a shrug that she lived in a mandatory evacuation area and would be heading to her brother’s house when work was over along with most of the rest of her family, so she didn’t mind the peace and quiet of the office. There had been an important conference call that he had to wrap up before he could head home. The hurricane was a localized affair, and it was too complex trying to gather six people from two continents and four time zones to try to reschedule.
Now he was inching toward home.
It was with great relief that he turned into the subdivision where their new house was located. When they came to Houston to live, they had stayed in his condominium for three months while a parade of real estate agents showed them houses on weekends. As Helena’s pregnancy began to show, the need for a new house grew more urgent. He had left most of the details to Helena. She was working on a book, and lining up some lectures while he had accepted a position with the Space Commission. It was going to take every minute of his attention to reincarnate the space program.
The new house was a two story brick colonial in a quiet neighborhood, equidistant from the space center and the airport. There was also a small private airport a few miles away where they would house the King Aire the Miller Trust had recently purchased. The community had its own golf course barely a block away, golf cart lanes on the wide streets, tall oaks and pines shading the winding roads, and sidewalks for evening strolls. He and Helena already felt very much at home here.
He touched the button on the garage remote and the rain stopped as suddenly as it started. The ‘vette roared into the driveway and into the space between Helena’s Volvo and their new golf cart. As soon as he opened the door he could hear the roaring of the wind through the trees in the front yard. It wasn’t raining right now, but the wind was blowing strong and steady.
He touched the button to close the garage door and headed into the house.
There still wasn’t much furniture here. During the past month, Helena had spent a good deal of time looking for furniture, and both Susan and Melissa had shown up at various times to voice their opinion. John was certain that once the new furniture was delivered the place would be every bit as classy as his wife. For now, they were making do with the furniture from his condo. The kitchen nook held his battered old dinette set. He hadn’t realized how bad it looked until he saw it in the new kitchen. The formal dining room still had wedding presents in boxes. And there were also boxes of books, both his and Helena’s, in the mother-in-law apartment behind the garage. That would be a guest suite once Helena had everything unpacked. He set his briefcase on the chair and headed for the living room, also furnished only with his old couch and lounge chair.
“Helena?”
She appeared at the door to the rec room. “You’re finally home. I was getting worried about you.”
“It was a slow drive home. And the conference lasted longer than I expected.”
“The winds are already tropical storm strength. And the hurricane’s path appears to be directly over Houston.”
He moved across the room to take her in his arms. Her belly was beginning to round out now, and John thought she was the most beautiful woman alive. Something about her figure pregnant reminded him of those primitive statues of goddesses you saw in museums. He had tried to explain that to her the last time he saw her sighing into the mirror after stepping out of the shower. She hadn’t found the comparison flattering. He couldn’t make her understand that the rounder she grew, the more perfect she became in his eyes.
“What were you doing in the rec room? Getting in a quick game of pool?” He held her close, feeling her silky hair beneath his chin.
The only furniture in the rec room right now was the pool table, a small wet bar and two bar stools. John had ordered the pool table almost as soon as they closed on the house. Helena had several boxes of pictures sitting in one corner of the darkly paneled room. There would be pictures on the wall from their time in space, both before and after Breakaway, as well as other mementoes and certificates of John’s career.
“I was just putting our emergency supplies in there. It’s the best protected room in the house.”
“It is?”
“There are no windows except the sliding glass door onto the deck. And that one faces west. The worst winds from this storm will come from the north and east.” She turned and led him into the room as she explained. “I’ve got the bottled water and food over here by the bar, and I brought down some bedding as well. It may not be safe in the bedroom tonight. There’s that tree right outside the window by the bed. I’ve also packed us each an overnight bag in case we do have some kind of damage to the house, and need to leave quickly. And I’ve filled the tubs in all the bathrooms with water in case we lose power and need to flush.”
“You’ve been busy. Is all this really necessary?”
“You’ve obviously never been through a hurricane before.”
“A few near misses. But as a pilot, I always ended up flying a plane out of harm’s way whenever a storm came this direction.”
“Well, this one isn’t going to miss us. The most likely track brings the storm in at Galvaston and directly to Houston.”
“Maybe we should just head for your mom’s house.”
Helena shook her head. “I’d be a nervous wreck wondering what was happening with the house. Besides, it’s too late. We should have left last night, or at least early this morning for that. And from the look of the traffic on TV, even last night might have been too late.”
“We’ll be fine. It’s a good strong house. I take it from the way you’re preparing you have been through this before.”
“I always stayed prepared at the house in Florida. But Mel was living in Miami during Hurricane Alex. You can’t imagine the devastation. Even as far inland as we are here, there were roofs blown off and trees down. I volunteered in one of the trauma centers down there right after the storm passed. It was awful.”
He held her close to reassure her. “We’ll be okay.” Cupping her chin in his hand, he tilted her face up to look at him. “We’ve been through worse than this.”
Her mood remained tense for a moment, then she succumbed to the look in his deep blue eyes and smiled at him.
He smiled back and their embrace moved from comforting to more romantic. He bent down to kiss her and she put her hand on his cheek.
His beard was scratchy. They parted and smiled at each other. “I could use a shower and a shave.” He ran his thumb gently across her cheek. “And you could use a nap. You look beat.”
She sighed. “I am. I didn’t realize how much there was to do to get ready. It was pretty exhausting.”
Usually she didn’t let him coddle her. It was a sign of her fatigue that she did let him lead her upstairs and settle her into bed, tucking the comforter around her and settling her in, pillows supporting her back and belly. She relaxed as he stroked her hair and was asleep before he walked across the room to his closet.
John took a leisurely shower and shaved carefully. It wasn’t common for him to have extra time at home, and this storm seemed to be dictating that they spend a quiet evening alone. Helena had been tired lately with the pregnancy, but a nap this afternoon would certainly help and the night was theirs.
When he returned to the bedroom he could hear the sound of something scraping against the window. He walked over to look. It was raining hard again, and a large branch from the pine tree on this side of the house had cracked. It hadn’t fallen to the ground, but was swinging back and forth, scraping the side of the house and the window. He frowned. If it turned loose, it could easily whip around and break the window.
Moving to Helena’s side of the bed, he shook her shoulder. “Helena. Wake up, honey.”
“John? What’s the matter?” she asked sleepily, propping herself up on one elbow.
“There’s a branch coming off that tree. I think we’d best head downstairs.”
She looked toward the window, hearing the noise for the first time. She let John help her sit up and he led her from the room, closing the bedroom door behind them as the branch banged insistently against the window.
She seemed to come fully awake as they made their way downstairs. “I have a meatloaf in the oven.” She glanced at the clock in the living room, an old nautical clock that had belonged to John’s family. “It’ll be ready shortly. Let’s get dinner on the table. It’s likely that we’ll lose power as the storm gets worse.”
Looking out the back window, John thought the storm was bad enough already. Wind whipped across the back yard and rain pounded against the glass. He followed her into the kitchen and they set about putting meatloaf, baked potatoes and salad on the table. It was darker than normal for mid-afternoon and John turned on the light above the table and picked up the remote for the TV. John flicked through all the local channels. Each held a young reporter standing on a beach in rain gear talking about the crashing waves behind them and how hard the wind was blowing.
“It’s been like that all day.” Helena said, coming to stand by him. “They alternate between shots of the water on Galvaston beach and shots of the traffic evacuating Houston.” She shivered.
“Maybe it’s best not to watch too much.” John suggested. Just then, a new weather advisory was posted, upgrading the hurricane from a category three to a category four. The weatherman was also showing the optimum path of the storm, a cone of red surrounding the area and beginning to curve back to the east, with the white center of the path making a wide turn across the Houston metropolitan area. John winced as the weatherman indicated its passage directly across the space center as well as their house.
As they cut to two concerned newscasters sitting at a desk reciting a list of school and business closures Helena took the remote from him and cut off the power. “It gets a bit repetitive at that point. There won’t be another weather update for an hour.”
John nodded.
Just as they sat down to eat, the power flickered, the light fading like it was on a dimmer switch. It flashed off completely for a minute, then back on again.
“Good thing we have dinner cooked,” Helena said. She already had an oil lamp sitting on the table with matches beside it. She removed the chimney and lit the small lamp, trimming the wick to provide a low but steady flame.
John flipped off the overhead light and they sat together, trying to enjoy the meal and ignore the raging storm outside.
Just as they finished the meal the power flickered again and died completely. They stacked their dishes in the sink, put away the leftovers, and they moved to the rec room. John brought the oil lamp, but before Helena could light any more candles, the power returned once again. They smiled at each other.
John moved to the stereo and selected a disk of music. He noticed that Helena had also put a small portable radio with batteries on top of the stereo. Helena paced nervously around the room.
“Hey, that’s usually one of my tricks,” John teased.
Helena stopped and looked confused for a moment, then she smiled. “Pacing,” she realized. “I guess the storm has me on edge.” She looked out at the sheets of rain moving almost horizontally past the window. With the wind coming from the north, it was pounding against the living room windows, but the glass doors to the rec room were almost dry.
“How about a game of pool?” John suggested.
Helena shrugged. “I suppose.” She turned to light a few more candles.
John reached for the rack and pulled balls out of the return at the end of the table. “Pool by candlelight. Romantic.”
Helena laughed. “I wouldn’t have thought of it like that, but there’s only you and I and the pool table in the candlelight…” she faded off, a speculative look in her eye.
“What?” John asked.
She gave him a wicked smile. “Care to make a little wager?”
“What kind of wager?”
“We could play strip pool.”
John laughed. “Strip pool? I don’t think I’ve ever played that before. What are the rules?”
Helena’s smile grew more seductive. “Well, whenever you sink a ball, the other person has to remove an article of clothing.”
“I think I like the sound of this game.” John stepped toward her and pulled her into his arms. She turned her head up and kissed him.
“Rack ‘em up.” She instructed when they came up for air.
Helena broke and John lost his belt immediately. It was a fairly even game until Helena lost both shirt and bra. At that point, she adopted the strategy of standing on the opposite side of the table from his shot and striking a provocative pose. John couldn’t manage to sink another ball.
By luck, he finally managed to sink two more balls. Helena gracefully removed the rest of her clothing and stood smiling in front of him. “Another game?”
“I think not,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “Why don’t we move to the sofa in the living room. I’m sure we can think of something to do.”
“That old sofa smells like someone spilled beer all over it.”
That someone had most likely been him, but before he could protest his innocence there was a clatter from the window. They moved to the sliding glass door and looked out at the patio. A plastic flowerpot had blown through the air and hit the window. Neither the pot or the window had broken, but the pot rolled back and forth by the wall underneath the window.
“Not in the living room,” Helena said faintly. John nodded quietly in agreement.
She took his hand and pulled him back by the pool table. Pushing herself up to sit on the edge, she offered, “How about here?” She spread her legs and pulled him closer.
“On the table?” John put his arms around her, but hesitated.
“Well, it is the only furniture in the room.”
“But, on the new felt?” He looked over her shoulder at the table, trying not to be distracted by her bare flesh.
“It’s only a pool table, silly.”
John opened his mouth to protest again, but was saved by another crash from outside. He turned to see one of the pine trees from the back yard crash onto the deck. Branches scraped against the sliding door although no glass broke. Without hesitation, he swept Helena off the table and pulled her under it. He reached out for the bedding she had folded neatly by the door and shoved that under as well, then he joined her. The wind was even stronger now and branches were banging against the walls and windows.
“How about under the pool table?” he asked breathlessly as they moved pillows and quilts around to make things more comfortable.
“I think this is a good place to be.” Helena agreed.
Something else crashed into the tree laying across the deck and he held Helena closer. “We’ll be fine,” he assured her, although he wasn’t sure he believed that himself at the moment.
He held her close until her breathing slowed and he knew she slept. Then he made his way out from under the table, extinguished the candles and lamp and brought a flashlight back with him. The wind was roaring, but the house seemed to be holding up. He returned to Helena, curled protectively around her and fell soundly asleep.
Some time in the night he woke to Helena’s kiss. Gently they made love in the confined space below the pool table. The wind roared around them, but they took little notice. Helena quickly fell asleep afterwards, while John held her close, listening to the wind howl around the house and the sound of fallen limbs and other flotsam of the storm bang against the house.
He awoke to sunlight and silence. He crawled out from under the pool table and looked at the tree lying across what had once been their deck and hot tub, now reduced to so many splinters. He pulled on a pair of jeans and walked through the house. There were no windows broken, but they lost two trees, the one in the back yard and the one next to the bedroom. The house next door had half of its roof missing and two trees down in the front yard blocking the road.
He returned to the rec room and knelt to look down at Helena and a wave of protectiveness
swept over him. His wife and his baby were both safe. He wished he’d had the
sense to take them to Miller’s Bluff, but things were okay now. They had weathered
this storm.
Maureen J. Long
October 31, 2004
