Sudden Storms (16 page)
Authors: Marcia Lynn McClure
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #General, #Historical, #Western
“No, no, no,” Rivers said smiling. “Let me go. The fresh air will do me good.”
“You will not!” Jolee argued. “You sit back down there and…”
“Oh, Jo,” Rivers sighed as she pushed passed her and through the door. “I’m fine.” She didn’t mind going to the cellar for the peaches, even if she was sore and aching. As soon as she retrieved the peaches for Jo, she would search out her heart’s desire. She would spend the day with Paxton, for she knew he was too injured for hard work.
As she walked out toward the cellar, she thought how wonderful life would be. Weston and Jolee living close, their children and the ones she and Paxton would have playing together on the front steps. Paxton’s children! The thought forced a sigh of excited satisfaction from her lungs and into the fresh morning air. Was she dreaming? She still wondered if she were.
As Rivers stood in the cellar looking around for a nice jar of peaches, doubt began to fill her mind. Surely Paxton couldn’t really be hers. He was too wonderful! Too handsome! Too desirable!
Rivers gasped, and her thoughts were interrupted as the cellar door suddenly slammed shut. She was unsettled as she stood in complete darkness. Yet when she heard Paxton’s roguish chuckle, she turned, instantly relieved and delighted by the sight of him.
“I feel a storm brewin’ in here,” Paxton said as he lit the lantern, the tiny flame lighting the darkness.
Rivers looked up, gazing into his handsome face, mesmerized at the way his eyes seemed to flash in the dim light. Reaching out, she softly caressed his bandaged shoulder.
“What are you doing out of bed?” she asked as he set the lantern down and gathered her into his arms and against the strength of his warm, powerful body. Rivers laid her palm against his whiskery cheek, pressing her thumb into the dimple at the corner of his smile.
“Jolee doesn’t trust me where you’re concerned. So…I figure ’til we’re married proper, these private moments are gonna be mighty rare.”
“
I
trust you,” Rivers said, lost in the deep blue of his eyes.
“Oh, I know ya do. And dang it all…if that won’t force me to keep in line,” he said. “Maybe.”
His mouth captured hers then in a ravaging, savory kiss—a powerful, loving exchange—evidence and promise of the eternal felicity they would know together.
Author’s Note
I wonder sometimes if most people simply skip the dedication in the front of a book. I never do—I always read the dedications from the author. I find them interesting and very curious, especially considering that most of the time, they’re rather vague or seem to hold some mystery about them. I love that! Furthermore, I think the dedication of a book is important merely because it often reveals something about the author and his or her life and inspiration. Don’t you think so? Therefore, as my little (and perhaps trivial) author’s note for
Sudden Storms
begins, let us take a look at the
Sudden Storms
dedication, shall we? In case you missed it, here it is again:
To Sheri
For all the glorious adventures we’ve shared...
Photo fun and beta fish sprees,
Belting out ballads in yogurt parlors...
And the Sudden Storms of life we’ve weathered together.
Thank you for being the blessed and bright sunshine after the rain…
For rare and true friendship to cherish—
and memories like no others in the universe!
Thus, for you…some kisses in the rain!
Sheri—my cherished friend of over 15 years. Sheri—my partner in silliness. Sheri—who makes me laugh like no one else can. And Sheri—the much sought after, incredibly creative graphics and literary designer that at long last my publisher was able to secure as the designer of the covers for my books. Ahhhh, Sheri—easily my most hilarious friend! The adventures that Sheri and I have shared over the years are truly too numerous to mention. Just for fun, here’s a short list (and I do mean short) that, in the interest of time, is void of the best and most hysterical details:
1. As the girls from the 80s pop music group the Groovy Chicks, I fronted as the actual lead singer, and Sheri was not only a member of the backup (and the only one who could still actually fit into her authentic, vintage 80s clothes) but also served as the silent MC for an event, dressed in nothing but a pair of men’s long underwear and an orange tutu ballerina costume whilst whirling about to the “Fractured Fairy Tales” theme music.
2. Sheri taught me the magic of rubber cement where working with photos and art projects is concerned—long, long, long before scrapbooking was the concept it is now.
3. Together Sheri and I took our children out into the bay in Birch Bay, Washington, waded up to our bosoms in the water, and collected approximately 300 expired (meaning dead) sand dollars. Painstakingly, we soaked and cleaned them in bleach, dried them in the sun, divvied them up, and then wondered what in the world we were going to do with them.
4. Any kind of photographic devise (like a camera or photo booth) is always made more adventurous with Sheri in the mix. Props are also her forte. Give her one of those paper toilet seat covers, a cutout of Legolas in Barnes & Noble, or a giant rocking chair, and look out!
5. With Sheri, I’ve seen what happens when she yells, “Look at that!” while standing in a field of tulips surrounded by a busload of camera-toting tourists from Japan.
6. We have skipped through acres of blooming daffodils with our arms wide-spread while singing at the top of our lungs. And on that same adventure, we discovered that salmon jerky is disgusting, and therefore girls on girl trips should always bring their own snacks to eat while attending the Tulip Festival because otherwise salmon jerky is the only thing to be found at roadside stands!
7. With Sheri I have attended Neil Diamond concerts that, because of her company, were epic! At one such event, after we stood in our seats, arms raised and swaying while joining Neil in a chorus of “Sweet Caroline,” we walked back to our hotel in the Portland, Oregon, midnight rain as it drenched our matching Christmas sweaters and soaked us to the skin. Fabulous!
8. Traffic jams are never fun—unless one is traveling with Sheri, as my photograph of Sheri trying to hitchhike a ride from a passing ambulance during that famous traffic jam will prove. During that infamous hour-long traffic jam, Sheri and I gathered bouquets of wild sunflowers midst grass that grew higher than our waists. Ahhhh! Only Sheri can make such a frustrating situation one of the best memories of your life.
9. Then there was the time we went on a betta fish buying spree! Naturally we named them all. One betta in particular, who seemed to have a rather more active elimination system than most, we christened “Poopalotta.” And Poopalotta lived up to his name for years and years until he finally passed on to that great betta bowl in the sky.
Together Sheri and I have taken photos in bed and breakfast bathtubs and photographed old houses, gates, seals, giant rocking chairs, carousels, restaurant food, and fellow passengers on airplane flights. We’ve done the Twelve Days of Christmas for years and years for one another. We’ve held shadow puppet performances on the bathroom floors of restaurants, cracking up fellow bathroom attendees. We’ve had luncheons in Victorian tearooms where we wrapped ourselves in fox and mink furs and took pictures. Long before digital photography, Sheri was using her amazing graphic design talents to “crop and paste” us into photos with Elvis, Sergei Grinkov, and Antonio Banderas.
All this fun and frivolity doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface—nor does it even hint at all that Sheri has taught me, the tears and heartache we’ve helped each other bear, or the trials and tribulations we’ve weathered together. Sheri has been not only my friend but my teacher, guide, and personal healing clown for many, many years.
Thus, to a cherished friend who adores nature and plants and especially rain, I wrote this little novella,
Sudden Storms
. So you see, the dedications in a book do mean something to the author—or at least to this author they do.
Which leads me to my next topic of random rambling—kissing in the rain! What is it about kissing in the rain that intrigues not only my bosom friend Sheri but seemingly all romantic hearts, huh? I mean, think about it—movies are packed with kissing in the rain. Let’s just take a moment and list a few movies:
The Quiet Man
(a very famous kissing in the rain scene, and one of my favorites),
Spiderman
(of course),
The Notebook
(Hello? Totally famous!), and
Australia
—to name only a few that come to my mind. Kissing in the rain seems to be a favorite lyric thread for songs too.
So why is everyone (including Sheri) intrigued with rain kissing? Well, my theory is this: rain is refreshing, liberating, and dreamy somehow. Have you ever been caught in an unexpected rainstorm? It sort of throws your emotions and physical senses for a loop. At first, you might be like, “Oh no! I’m going to get soaked!” But then, once you realized you’re going to get soaked and there’s nothing you can do about it, you’re kind of like, “Oh well. There’s nothing I can do, so why not just jump in a puddle or play with some tadpoles?” Do you know what I mean? I think that “oh well” moment is the moment of liberation—the moment where we realize (at least for girls) that our hair is going to be ruined, our mascara is going to run, and, if we’re wearing a white shirt, everyone is going to know what color of bra we’re wearing, so what the heck—we might as well jump in a puddle or kiss a guy we’ve always wanted to! Do you know what I mean? There’s just something liberating about being caught in the rain; something is let loose inside us—care, worry, previous plans.
In truth, rain is a therapeutic thing in so many ways. Think about it—how delicious is it to sit in the house curled up on the sofa, all cuddled in a soft fleece blanket, listening to the rain outside while eating chocolate and reading a good book? It’s wonderful! Now admittedly, having lived in Washington state, too much rain can be somewhat depressing—at least to me. But I’m talking about summer thunderstorms kind of rain—maybe some far off echoing lightning mingled with huge, refreshing raindrops. It just frees the soul somehow, tears away inhibition.
Furthermore, there’s something about the idea of being wet when kissing, right? It’s like—I don’t know—wildly exhilarating or something. So combine exhilaration, refreshment, inhibition, liberation, and the human tendency toward romance, and there you have it! That’s why we all love the idea of kissing in the rain. That’s why we all love to kiss in the rain. Of course, that’s my short “kissing-in-the-rain-for-novices” version. Hmmm. I think I could maybe write a nonfiction book on that subject.
Anyway—onward. Lane. Yep. While sitting there beginning to write
Sudden Storms
all those years ago, I glanced over my cedar chest (most likely piled with clothes needing to be folded or something) and saw the name Lane. Yep. A Lane cedar chest—that’s what I have.
“What does this have to do with the price of tuna?” you might be thinking. Well, nothing—but Lane is the name I “plugged in” to
Sudden Storms
at that moment, the original name for the hero. Yes, Paxton Gray was originally Lane Martin.
Totally
not a name I would normally stick with. But this was back in the day (as I’ve explained before) when I used to plug in any old name and then forget to go back and change it later. So there you have it—Paxton Gray once went by the alias Lane Martin. Crazy, huh?
Just as crazy is that Rivers’s name was originally Tamara! I know, huh? So not me! (Though I like the name and know some great Tamaras.) Jolee Gray was originally Joella Martin, her boyfriend Weston having gone simply by Steve. Sometimes I get a real kick out of my past self because I wanted to change the names right when I’d finished the book. But a then-friend of mine literally threw a tantrum and was so upset that I was going to change the names that I knuckled to peer pressure and didn’t. What a wiener I was back then. And where does that saying come from anyway? When someone is weak and spineless, we call them a wiener. Hmmm. Interesting.
And yet onward still. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe that this was the first book I wrote that included the subconscious revelation of one of my greatest phobias: arachnophobia, to be precise. Yes, it’s true. Before poor Cassidy had her morbid spider experience in
Shackles of Honor
, Rivers and Jolee had theirs in
Sudden Storms
. Spiders completely wig me out! They don’t wig me out as much as they used to because I’ve worked on being braver—more courageous and self-reliant when it comes to dealing with them. But they still wig me out! For the first thirteen years or so of our married life, it was quite common for Kevin to come home from work and find a quart Mason jar or two (or perhaps a Ball jar, depending on which brand was close at hand during my time of need) sitting upside down in the middle of the kitchen or living room floor. Why? Because I couldn’t squash a spider! They freaked me out so badly that it took every ounce of bravery I could muster just to reach down (usually from my perch on my knees on a kitchen chair) and put a Mason jar over one. I just couldn’t squash them, and I certainly didn’t want them running off to prowl around my house, so I’d just gather every thread of guts I could, and I’d put a Mason jar (or a Ball jar) over them and let Kevin kill them when he got home. Ahhhh! Yuck! Yickee! Goose bumps (the bad kind)! And fear and trembling! I hate spiders! And I especially hated them years ago. (To be intentionally redundant, I’ve worked on handling my arachnophobia over the years so that I’m pretty good at squashing them now—if they aren’t too big, that is.)
