The Stormchasers: A Novel (46 page)

“They’re your guests too,” Karena says, and they are: Fern and her fiancé, Ben Hendrickson, a new Whirlwind guide Kevin introduced her to.
I know I look a bit of a hypocrite
, Fern wrote earlier this summer when she broke the news,
but he does adore me, and now I can move to the States, and enough’s as good as a feast, isn’t it?

“In fact I believe you’re the one who invited them,” Karena says, although actually they both did. “You could do a little work around here too, you know.”

“I swear, Laredo, you are the laziest pregnant woman on the whole block,” says Kevin. “You’re already barefoot and knocked up, why don’t you get in here and cook something?”

“Oh, I’ll cook something all right,” says Karena. “Just you wait, mister. You’re toast.”

She takes a last look at the empty street, then starts trundling determinedly up the walk. This is her life now: this house and this man and their daughter. It will be a quiet life, maybe not what Karena dreamed of when she was a kid—but what did she imagine then, exactly? Now that she thinks about it, she never did have much of a plan for her future—not one that didn’t involve Charles. And she was always too busy scrambling to catch up, to control the damage. But if she had dreamed something, it might have looked like this. Predictability. Acceptance. Peace. The knowledge that sometimes when you throw yourself upon the world, it will hold you up.

Kevin steps out onto the stoop, damp and spicy-smelling from the shower. “You need some help there, Laredo?” he asks.

“No thanks,” says Karena, “we’re fine,” but she does take the hand Kevin holds out to her and lets him haul her up. Her shoulder hits the bronze wind chimes Charles has given them as a wedding present, making them stir and bong, and as if in answer, the breeze gusts from the lake. But there is no severe in the forecast for the upcoming week, Karena knows. The season is almost over. This is just a little local front moving through, and that’s another thing that is amazing, Karena thinks, as they go into the house: how warm the day can be when the wind is at your back.

First, a word about storms and chasers: I’ve been really lucky to get to know many stormchasers while researching this novel, and they’re a generous and exacting bunch. Any chaser reading
The Stormchasers
will recognize I took liberties with its storms, changing dates and locations. I’m grateful for their appreciation of poetic license.

I did, however, attempt accuracy with the meteorology. Everything I know about weather I owe to the guides of Tempest Tours, whom I’ve been privileged to chase with every summer since 2006: president Martin Lisius, Bill Reid, Brian Morganti, Keith Brown, Rob Petitt, Chris Gullickson, Dr. Bob Conzemius, and Jennifer Dunn. If you ever want to learn about big weather, go with Tempest (
www.tempesttours.com
); there’s none better. I am especially reliant on the knowledge provided by
Weather Radios Across America
president Chad Cowan, whose expertise helped inspire many fresh scenes; my chase partner, Marcia Perez, the Ansel Adams of storms, whose exquisite photos bless this novel’s cover; and my cherished mentor, Master Kinney Adams, whose wisdom about storms and life sustains me. These chasers have been endlessly patient with my questions, and everything that’s right in these pages is because of their teaching. Everything that isn’t is because of my persistent ignorance.

I would also like to thank my family: Franny Blum, Joey Blum, Judy Blum, and my dad, Bob Blum, in memoriam; Woodrow; and the Joergs, for their unremitting love and support. Chief meteorologists Pete Bouchard of Boston’s WHDH Channel 7 News and Belinda Jensen of KARE 11 News in Minneapolis, who were kind enough to let me crash their studios and answer all my weather-geek questions. Christina from Doc’s in Spring Grove, for everyday coffee and conversation. My O.G. editors Jean Charbonneau, Stephanie Ebbert Devin, and Sarah Schweitzer for seeing me through two novels now. Dr. Kathy Crowley and my Puppet Julie Hirsch, for their medical and psychological proof-reading. Bram and Elizabeth deVeer, captive but willing stormchasers. Houston County, MN, Sheriff Doug Ely, for showing me around the Caledonia courthouse/jail and troubleshooting my scenarios. Hope and Mark Foley, my personal Red Cross, the most amazing neighbor-friends ever. Stormchaser-photographer Ericka Gray, for the read and the Flarp. Grub Street Writers, the very best writing community in the world, and especially my beloved Council. The Guymon girls: Elvia Hernandez, Melyn Johnson, and Rachel Sides; I’d ride fences with you ladies any day (and a tip of the hat to the Guymon, OK, fire chief for letting me kidnap Elvia). Sandy Hanson and the Monday Night Trash Gang for watching over me in Caledonia. Dennis Larson, Esq., of Decorah, Iowa, for helping me with legal logistics. Sonya Larson, for vetting the twins. The Patel family, owners of the Caledonia, MN, AmericInn, who were such gracious hosts during my two-month stay there to write the first draft. The Perez family in Oklahoma City, who provide my stormchase home away from home. The Tempest Repeat Offenders: Leisa Luis-Grill and Rob Grill, foxy Kirstie Johnson, Stacy Williams, and David Yamada. Brian Tart and the wonderful crew at Dutton, especially Erika Imranyi, who has two tools no editor should be without: eagle eyes and a delicate touch. The Writer Girls, Cecile Corona, Kirsten Marcum, and Erin Almond, for listening to my ideas about this book through so many incarnations over the years.

To my wonderful readers: Not a single day went by that I didn’t open my e-mail and receive kind comments from you on my first novel,
Those Who Save Us
, and questions about
The Stormchasers
. “When is the second novel coming out?” was your persistent refrain. Here it is, with my deepest thanks for the daily inspiration you provided—there is none better. I am so obliged to you for hosting me in your homes and communities, inviting me to speak about my writing, making my dreams a reality and keeping my characters alive in your hearts and minds.

Finally, my greatest gratitude to three extraordinary people: Dr. Lydia Baumrind, who led me out of the woods. The incomparable, fierce, and dedicated Stephanie Abou, who demanded a scene a day and gave so much more. And Andrew Brewster Ballantine, my trusted navigator in all matters. This book would not exist without them.

JENNA BLUM is the
New York Times
bestselling author of
Those Who Save Us
. She lives in Boston, Massachusetts, and teaches creative writing.