Storms of the Heart

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Connor Griffith unfolded himself out of his parents’ sedan and stretched as tall as he could, groaning as his cramped muscles shifted and relaxed. They’d made the drive down from Chicago several times while he was growing up, so he should have been used to it.

The back seat of what had to be the last new production model car that ran on gasoline was plenty spacious enough, he had to give it that. But sitting back there for ten hours with only a couple of stops left him achy and sore.

Apparently his deciding to skip it for the last few years had eroded his road trip tolerance.

That or he was prematurely old and creaky at a positively ancient twenty-five.

Deciding to ride with them rather than drive himself made plenty of sense a couple of weeks ago. No sense putting even more miles on his already battered work truck, especially when it wasn’t exactly built for comfort to begin with.

Renting a nice, new sedan for the return trip sounded like fun, too.

All the hours on the road—with his parents wanting to get here fast rather than stopping more than they had to—left him wishing more than once for his own ride.

Even with all those visits over the years, the mountains jutting up behind the flat space of the pretty little football field looked strange to his eyes. The fall color was much brighter and more vivid than back in Chicago, too. The difference in getting several hours further southeast was startling this time of year.

An especially warm fall with hardly any rain had left most of the leaves up north simply turning brown and falling off, even as they’d driven southeast all day long into more forested countryside in Illinois and Indiana. The trees in Kentucky, though, and here in Virginia, were like moving fire. Sounded a bit like a crackling campfire, too, as the leaves shifted and danced in a cool breeze that felt like heaven against his skin.

The air smelled fantastic down here in the mountains, better than he remembered. Fresh and crisp, with an earthy, warm scent he couldn’t identify, and another he knew for certain. He missed the constantly changing smells of the big lake, but he’d be back there soon enough.

After a quick glance to make sure his parents were out and moving around, he pulled out his phone and tapped a quick message to his girlfriend back home, letting her know they’d made it to Wolf Branch.

Well, girlfriend might be a little strong for what he had going with Trish.

Special friend, maybe? Extra friend? Or he could fall back on the shockingly old-fashioned and terribly embarrassing term his mother used when they’d talked about his situation on the drive down.

Friends with benefits.

Connor shook his head, determined that they were finished talking about him and Trish until there was something new to talk about. Which there wouldn’t be until he got back to Chicago and they continued trying to figure it all out.

The happiest couple he knew or had ever heard of seemed like a strange choice to dissect his rather uneventful love life, anyway.

He’d dated on and off for ten years, sure. A couple of his breakups had been dramatic, yes. But not especially life-changing. Not like what he’d heard about in stories of his parents.

The two of them had been in love pretty much since birth, and that showed no signs of slowing now that they were in their fifties. As he watched, his father put his arm around his mother, then leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

A few of what his mom called sparkles showed in her brown hair, but it was mostly still the same color as Connor’s. Streaks of silver were more visible in his dad’s black hair, but he still had the same curiosity and enthusiasm for everything around him as ever.

And both of them would have laughed and laughed—lines deepening around his dad’s pale blue eyes and his mom’s green—if Connor had dared breathe a word of thinking either one of them were even in the neighborhood of old.

He mostly appreciated their insistence on being honest and open about his mother’s…odd dreams and visions and such. The way they’d both started talking about this move for months before his father got the opportunity for early retirement from teaching at the university. How they’d found the perfect house online almost the instant it went for sale. A house they’d both been inside, but never talked to the owners about buying.

Too many things to mention, and all too reliably correct to doubt. Connor had always known about all of that, and how it had affected his mom’s whole life.

What he didn’t know, what both of them were extremely careful to make sure he never knew, was anything about himself. His own future. Never a blurted out warning or unusual encouragement.

Once in a while, like when it came to Trish, he wished they’d give out the occasional tidbit.

He turned away from them to check out the big red brick high school and stopped. He was surprised and a little embarrassed to realize his jaw had actually dropped, but that didn’t change the effect.

An absolutely gorgeous woman walked toward them, with a smile brighter than the leaves on all those autumn trees.

She was around his age, and moved with all the strength and confidence he’d ever seen from women in the city and more.

The early evening sun seemed to start a fire all its own in her curly blonde hair, caught back in a bouncy ponytail that struck Connor as a real shame. He wanted to see her hair loose and falling around her shoulders, shifting with every move of her body. Every breath.

He shook his head, not sure where on earth such thoughts could be coming from inside his normally calm and pretty much orderly mind.

But no one had ever struck him so deep and hard on first sight. Not even Trish.

Definitely not Trish.

“Anne?” she said holding her hand out. “Evan? I’m Laura Michaelson, so glad to meet you.”

And her voice…

Smooth and rich and deeper than he expected, with a soft, musical lilt to her words. So different from the long vowels and clipped words, the nasal voices he was used to up north.

His mother held out her own hand with a big grin, as if she were meeting a long-lost best friend.

“I’m delighted to meet you, Laura, and I’m so sorry we’re late. Had a little bit of trouble getting organized out at our house.”

“That’s fine, I understand. Moving can be more of a challenge than you expect.” She switched to shaking hands with Connor’s father, and shot more than one pointed glance Connor’s way.

“This is our son Connor,” his dad said, with an odd little smile of his own. “Made the trip to help us get settled in. He’ll be heading back up north in a week or so.”

Connor tried not to grimace or scowl at his father’s words. Never mind that they were true.

The beautiful woman—Laura—took his hand and stared into his eyes for a second. Hers were a lovely shade of blue, much darker than his father’s.

“Nice to meet you, Connor,” she said, still holding his hand. “Shame you’ll be leaving us so soon.”

“Well, you know,” he said. “Sometimes these things are flexible.”

His phone and watch buzzed, and even having them both set to silent didn’t stop Laura and his parents from glancing at his wrist. Connor didn’t have to look to know who the message was from.

“I’ll let you attend to that,” Laura said, dropping his hand. “I understand you’re interested in doing a bit of teaching here, Evan? And Anne, we’re delighted to welcome an expert librarian to Wolf Branch.”

Connor tried to ignore how cold his hand felt after Laura let go. How strangely lonely.

He turned away, trying even harder to ignore how the message from Trish felt like an interruption.

This was going to be a long visit no matter how long he stayed.