Cherishing You (Thirsty Hearts Book 3) (18 page)

T
he informality
of having Thanksgiving dinner on a rustic, pine table in their posh recreation room didn’t preclude the use of fine china and silver.

With the Cowboys projected to near life-size on the ten-foot screen in front of them, Shannon sipped sparkling, non-alcoholic cider from a crystal champagne flute. The rest of her dinner companions had a special French red wine selected especially for the season.

“It’s Beaujolais nouveau. They ferment the wine for just a few weeks before bottling and release it the third Thursday in November,” Jonah explained.

“It can’t have anything to do with Thanksgiving, right? It’s French.”

“No, they have their own nationwide celebration around the release every year, but it matches up nicely with our biggest food day of the year.”

“Mostly, it’s a marketing event. The wine is usually pretty ordinary in my opinion,” Vivienne added. “But it pairs decently with turkey.”

As Jonah and Vivienne discussed the tradition, Shannon grew curious to taste the wine—not that she knew anything about wine.

“You should taste a little,” Sheila suggested. Jonah glared at his mother. “Just a taste. For God’s sake, if that’s enough to throw her off the wagon…” His mother rolled her eyes.

“I’m curious, I’ll admit, but I don’t think it’s a good idea.” The absurdity of breaking her drinking rule while pregnant squashed her interest.

“You’re not missing much taste-wise. It’s more the tradition of it. In fact, I think I’m going to switch to something else. I brought a nice Riesling.” Vivienne drained her glass and got up—in search of better wine.

Tom stood as well, wandering over to the sideboard to pick over the Thanksgiving spread. As he returned to the table, he smacked Jonah on the back.

“When should I remind you that you promised to give us an answer about your House run by today?”

“I’m running.”

Shannon focused on sliding cranberry sauce onto a bite of turkey with the tip of her knife. The thought of facing scrutiny in a political campaign made her swirl her fork in extra gravy. Between stress eating and the pregnancy, she’d weigh two hundred pounds by spring.

“That was easy. I thought you might build a little suspense,” Vivienne mused.

Jonah laughed. “No. Better to get it over with so everyone knows I don’t need any more convincing.”

“I assume you’ve considered what this means for every aspect of your life.” Sheila directed a pointed look at Shannon.

Jonah took Shannon’s hand in his before answering. “Yes. There are issues to manage, but that’s why you hire professionals to run your campaign.”

An “issue?” Shannon pulled her hand away. His choices shouldn’t turn her into a problem, but she could see numerous conversations in her future where teams of “professionals” brainstormed how to fix her. Her spine stiffened.

Jonah wanted this. He had a vision for helping people. That’s what this was about—not dreaming up new ways to make her feel inadequate.

“We should get together next week and start thinking about who you want on your staff. You’ll want to start fundraising right away. I’ll arrange a meeting with Lester.” Tom folded his hands and rubbed them together.

“I want to get my ideas in order before meeting with donors. I’m not running to be Lester’s errand boy.”

“Of course not—”

“I’m going to run the campaign my way, Dad. When I need your advice or help, I’ll let you know.”

Sheila jumped in. “We don’t need to talk about all of this right now. Let’s celebrate that you’ve decided to run and leave it at that.”

A
fter dinner and football
, everyone scattered. Vivienne and her mother flipped through the Neiman-Marcus Christmas catalog. Tom disappeared into his office while his mother rested in the den, listening to Christmas music.

Shannon followed Jonah outside to see the lights in all their glory now that that the sun had set.

The private stone drive stretched out in front of the Moran’s house danced with the thousands of sparkling white lights dripping from the canopy of elm trees. Shannon twisted around in wonder and saw a glimmering Santa on the roof commanding his galloping herd of reindeer. The red light of Rudolph’s nose glowed bright.

“This is so beautiful.”

Jonah hugged her closer. “It is. They do this every year, but it always thrills me.”

“The lights on the trees go all the way down to the main road. How far is that?”

“About a quarter mile.”

The largeness of how Jonah and his family lived awed her—again. How had she wandered into this man’s life? Looking up into the blanket of lights soaring overhead like a galaxy of stars, Shannon felt dizzy. She swayed against him.

“Are you alright?” Worry rippled his brow.

She breathed in the cold night air and exhaled in a cloud. “I’m fine. The lights and everything, I’m…overwhelmed, I think.”

Jonah kissed her cheek. “You don’t need to be.”

The creak of the heavy wooden door opening made Shannon jump.

“I hope I’m not interrupting you lovebirds.”

Audrey Moran carefully stepped onto the front porch.

“Of course not, Grandmother.”

Jonah leapt to help her down the steps to the circular drive, bringing her down and standing between the two women with an arm around each of them.

Audrey and Jonah recounted more stories about past Thanksgivings and Christmases. The more Audrey spoke, the more Shannon wondered how her son became the man he was. Jonah’s grandmother possessed a sweetness completely opposite Tom’s stern and conniving air. Jonah’s father always wanted something, and if you didn’t have anything to offer, you might as well not exist.

The door creaked open again. As Shannon’s thoughts about Tom coalesced, he appeared like an apparition in the doorway.

“Jonah, I got a call just now from our lawyer about the acquisition. Can you pop in here?”

Jonah sighed, and dismay creased Audrey’s forehead.

“Honestly, Thomas, it’s a holiday.”

“Just a few minutes, Mother. I promise I’ll deliver him right back where I found him.”

“It’s alright, Grandmother. I’ll be sure to keep it short.”

Jonah gave each of the ladies a kiss on the cheek and marched into the house.

“At least, now we can chat, just us girls,” Audrey whispered into Shannon’s ear, taking her by the arm. “When are you due?”

“What?”

“Sweetheart, I’ve lived a long time. I see the way Jonah is so careful with you. Helping you up out of every chair. Holding on to you as you go up and down every step. And you look…oh, God.” She threw her head back and laughed. “It’s so cliché, but honey, you’re glowing.”

Shannon tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and sighed through a chuckle.

“July. We’re not telling anyone. Anyone. It’s still early, and—”

“My son and Sheila don’t like you. They’d do anything to keep you out of the family.”

Shannon’s eyes shot to Audrey’s.

“I know my son. I know his wife. It’s ironic. I never liked Sheila, but I accepted her. She serves my son’s purposes, and he’s pleased to dwell with her. That’s the Biblical way of describing it.”

“You seem to get along.”

“That’s because I let my child—whomever he’s become—live his life. My grandson can live his.” Audrey wrapped her thin hand around Shannon’s. “But I like you.”

In the darkness sparkling with Christmas lights, Shannon caught Audrey’s wink.

“And I can’t wait to meet my first great-grandbaby.”

The elderly woman’s delighted laughter echoed off the stone, rising up to the twinkling lights.

Shannon’s score with the Morans was thankfully now 2-2.

T
he weather continued
to go downhill over the weekend through the beginning of the next week. On Tuesday night, Shannon awoke to the unrelenting crack of hail crashing on her roof and smashing against her windows.

At first, she thought she imagined the sensation of her walls shaking, but she blinked herself awake and heard the structure of the apartment building moaning from blasts of wind.

She hurried home after her evening shift, showering and parking herself on the couch in her robe. The long hours worked like a tranquilizer dart, and she passed out in front of the TV, watching the weather report on the news. The meteorologists predicted heavy storms, but Shannon paid little attention.

Storms in Texas could always leave you shaken and wondering if this was the time that a tornado really would tear a path down your street. Usually, all that showed up were heavy drops of torrential rain and blankets of leaves blown from their trees.

This, however, sounded like Armageddon.

Every local channel had wall-to-wall coverage of the storms. The handsome, square-jawed weatherman on one station point to a highlighted box sliding across his radar.

“This is the path of the most dangerous part of this fast-moving storm system. We’ve now upgraded the tornado watch to a tornado warning for Dallas County. That warning has been extended by the National Weather Service until ten o’clock tonight. A tornado watch is still in effect for Collin, Denton, Ellis, Kauffman, and Tarrant counties. A severe thunderstorm warning covers our entire broadcast area. And again, if you’re just joining us, rotation has been spotted on the ground north of downtown, in the Uptown area, moving rapidly to the east/northeast across 75 near City Place. If you are in that area, please seek shelter immediately.”

Panic gripped Shannon. At this rate, the storm would pass right over her house, bringing with it the strong possibility of a tornado. Living on the top floor left her particularly vulnerable, but the downstairs apartment remained unoccupied—and locked. The only place she could think to go was the small closet under the stairs that led up to her place. She had a key for it somewhere.

Knowing she couldn’t sit on her couch and keep watching TV, she grabbed her running shoes and her blanket and headed for the bedroom to throw on yoga pants and a T-shirt.

As she pitched herself into action, the lights cut out, and the house fell silent with the TV now non-functional. Where had she put the flashlight?

Shannon bumped her way through the swirl of black around her. The only illumination flashed from a lightning strike hitting too close for comfort. Then, her apartment fell dark again.

She made her way to the kitchen, opening the cupboard under the sink and feeling around until her fingers closed on the cold cylinder of her flashlight. Praying she had working batteries, she pressed the button and relaxed when it carved a cone of light into the darkness.

After snatching her purse from the counter, she rummaged through her junk drawer, finding the key to the downstairs storage closet.

The high-pitched wail of storm sirens blared.

In a nanosecond, only two things mattered to her. The scrapbook Shannon had started for Olivia with the two or three pictures she’d kept right after her daughter was born and the snapshots she’d printed since their reunion—those memories and her design book.

Shannon threw on her coat, slung her purse over her shoulder, and raced to grab her memories and her dreams.

Running out of her apartment clutching her books and the flashlight, Shannon didn’t stop to lock the door. The sound of wind and objects hitting the building blended with the screaming whine of the sirens. The frightening cacophony chased her into the storage closet.

She dropped her books onto a sealed five-gallon bucket before realizing that was the only spot to sit. Swapping her butt for the books, she balanced everything on her lap as she squeezed her legs between the bucket and a mass of boxes. Then, she ducked her head and waited.

T
he weatherman didn’t lie
. The storm moved fast and brutal over her house, though no tornado touched down on her street. Technically, the tornado-strength winds stemmed from a microburst. In the end, it hardly mattered. Downed trees and power lines extended for blocks in every direction from her freshly decorated apartment.

Emerging from the storage closet and venturing outside, Shannon thanked God she got out of her apartment. The storm left the stately, beautiful oak in the front yard twisted up out of the ground, resting on the roof and one sidewall of the duplex.

Its limbs plunged into the Shannon’s apartment, knocking in the ceiling of her living room on one side and part of the kitchen. Adding to the problem, several inches of rain flooded her entire apartment, draining down into the apartment below. The home she’d worked for, small and rented as it was, would be uninhabitable for weeks—at a minimum.

City firefighters roamed her neighborhood, assisting with cleanup and assessing damage. Although she wouldn’t be able to stay, one of the fit, handsome firemen led her upstairs to her apartment to get whatever items she could salvage.

“I can’t let you spend much time up here, ma’am. And please, avoid the left side of your living room or the kitchen—anything marked off with caution tape. Just head to your bedroom and get what you can.”

Shannon followed him into the back room where her feet squished in the saturated carpet.

Nearly everything on the floor was ruined—her brand new sandals, a linen sweater, the inexpensive wood bed frame, and the dresser. Water had soaked through one side of the suitcase still sitting open on the floor. What could she take?

Her cell phone alarmed in her coat pocket, and she pulled it out. Mobile service kept coming up and going back down, so all of a sudden, she had several voice messages. She first checked the one from Jonah.

“Shannon, I saw the news. It looks like your neighborhood was hit hard. Are you alright? Call me as soon as you get this.”

Shannon tried dialing him, but service disappeared again. She typed up a text that she was okay and hit SEND, figuring it might go out as soon as service popped back on.

She threw open her closet doors and immediately pulled out the beautiful ball gown, which draped to the floor, drawing water up from the hem. A quick scoop of her arm lifted it out and she lay it on the bed. She crossed her fingers she could have it cleaned.

Then, Shannon dug through her closet and found a large duffel bag on the top shelf and threw it on the bed. After emptying her dresser drawers, she pulled her new dresses off their hangers. Everything else, she’d have to leave. Her arms would be full as it was, and she doubted the fireman would let her make too many trips.

“You need help with anything, ma’am?”

“Could you carry that plastic bin down for me?”

Luckily, some of her other pictures and documents were in a sealed plastic box.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

They managed to get everything she could salvage for now down to the curb.

Up and down the street, people picked through debris, and emergency personnel roped off areas with downed trees.

Tapping Jonah’s number again on her phone, she hoped for service, but no luck.

“Is there someone you need to call? We can use our radio,” the fireman informed her.

“That would be great. Thanks.”

Before she could get to the fire marshal’s flashing SUV, another fireman approached.

“Are you Shannon Clifton?”

“Yes.” She swiped her forehead with the back of her hand and sighed, suddenly exhausted.

“There’s a guy at the end of the street looking for you. John or something. Tried to tell him he can’t enter the street unless he lives here.”

The knot in her stomach uncoiled. “Oh, thank God. I couldn’t call him.”

One of the fireman helped haul her things to the end of the street where Jonah argued excitedly with a police officer. Their eyes met, and he threw his hands to his head and grinned.

“Shannon!”

She lumbered toward him with her duffel slung over her shoulder, carrying a box of toiletries. Jonah grasped her hands around the box.

“Thank God! When I didn’t hear from you, I freaked.”

“I tried to call you and text you, but the service is all messed up.”

He popped the trunk of his car and took the box and duffel she carried. The fireman put her bin in the trunk as well and then hurried back to help someone else.

Unencumbered by her belongings, she threw her arms around Jonah’s waist.

“You have no idea how glad I am to see you.” She cried softly into his shoulder.

“You weren’t hurt?” He stroked her arms.

“No. I’m fine. I’m just all discombobulated.” Shannon wobbled her head side to side. “It was loud and scary and wet, but it’s over. I called my landlord, but it cut out before we could finish the conversation. He said that he’d be in touch with his insurance company and offered to put me up in a hotel for the night. I told him I’d check with friends first and then the call dropped.”

Jonah took in the chaos down her street, shaking his head. “Surreal.”

She turned and surveyed the stretch of flashing lights, tree limbs, and construction materials strewn about. A shiver trickled down her spine.

“Can we get out of here? I’m so ready to go.”

“Absolutely.”

Shannon jumped into the passenger seat and closed her eyes, letting the heater warm her tight muscles.

Jonah started the car and carefully pulled around the other vehicles and the police keeping order at the scene.

“What a mess.”

“Thank you, by the way. I can always count on you.”

Jonah didn’t respond. He smiled and patted her knee. This mess was her life at the moment. The next several weeks would offer nothing but upheaval, but as long as she had Jonah, she wouldn’t worry. They could handle it together.