Beyond the Storm (9780758276995) Read online

  Sitting up on his elbows, Adam surveyed the room. That sound came again, like crying. He thought he could detect a whirring coming from the outdoors; it was too far away for him to decipher its source. But at least his eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness; he could see a figure sitting across from him on a wooden chair, a fluffy cushion on its seat. Dressed again in Venture’s old, willowy dress, her arms wrapped around legs that rested on the edge of the chair, Vanessa held a faraway look in her eyes.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She turned, her gaze falling upon him. He saw her nod, trying for a smile but ending up with a shrug. Indifference or uncertainty on her part, he couldn’t be sure. Finally, she said, “Cold, still. Or again.”

  “Well, you’re dressed only in that threadbare dress in an unheated house. How long have you been sitting there?”

  “Beats me. I just needed . . . I don’t know. To think.”

  “You could continue your thinking here,” he said, smoothing down the ruffled blanket. “Come back beside me, get under the covers, and let me fold you into my arms. I enjoyed that, you know, having you next to me in this bed.”

  A smile finally graced her otherwise worried face. “Me too.”

  “But you woke up anyway.”

  “I don’t know how long I slept.”

  “Time doesn’t seem to mean anything right now, does it?”

  That she agreed with. “It hasn’t all day. Why start now? The sun has yet to come up.”

  “So I hear,” he said.

  “You hear the sun?”

  “No. It’s the rain. I hear the rain.”

  “Like yesterday,” she said.

  “Exactly like yesterday,” he said.

  “Something’s weird, Adam. I thought the storm would have swept out by now, that with a new day, I don’t know . . . is it too much to ask for some ray of sunshine? I feel like I’ve been underwater for forever,” she said, again curling her bare feet beneath her body, for warmth, for security. “Something’s wrong.”

  Separated not just by the distance in the room but by something indefinable that hung in the air, he knew she was right. “I feel it too.”

  “Adam, where are we?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve been thinking . . . about the stories we read in those letters, about the onetime owner of this house. About Aidan Barton, whose grave we found in the backyard. He’s here, I feel like . . . like he’s been watching us. Or better, guiding our actions, wanting us to learn about his undying love for Venture. Venture, I’ve been thinking about her a lot too . . . I feel bad for her, and for him. For all they were denied. That’s why I put the dress back on. In a way, I feel close to her.”

  “Venture Mercer. Aidan Barton. It’s quite a coincidence.”

  “It’s scary, is what it is.” She paused, then said, “Plus, everything else that’s happened, it’s just left my mind swirling, like I’m living inside some cocoon. The accident . . . our finding refuge in this farmhouse, the rain and the fireplace, the fresh corn in the fields and the wine that appears seemingly out of our wishes, no phones and no people, what does all this mean? We’ve had no communication with the outside world all day or all night. No one, as far as we know, has discovered our cars. It’s like we exist on our own plane. Almost like our reunion isn’t really ours.”

  “It’s Venture’s and Aidan’s?”

  “Does that make sense?”

  “Not a bit.”

  “But . . .”

  “But that doesn’t mean I disagree with you. Those silly comments about reincarnation I made, I was just having a bit of fun at our expense and our situation. Now, though . . . it gives one pause. It’s like we were supposed to stumble upon that old trunk—waiting for us all these years. And only us.” He paused, giving a listen to the rain again. It had grown louder. “I know how weird this has been, but it’s definitely morning and I suppose we’ll figure out whatever together. You hear that, Vanessa, together. No more running off into the night.”

  “Into the cornfield,” she said, smiling.

  “From the porch,” he said. “From the fire, from the cupola . . .”

  “Why do I always run?”

  That he couldn’t answer. “What do you want to do now?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  Just then the rainfall picked up. Earlier the pitter-patter sounds were like a cooling shower and now the downpour intensified, beating against the gabled roof, against the windows, threatening to spill over the windowsill and into their world. As he looked out the window, Adam noticed a flash of light outside; he waited, knowing instinctively what it was. Lightning. He was right, because a beat later he heard the deep rumble of thunder, a hearty cough rupturing across the sky. Another summer storm, just as fierce as yesterday’s, or maybe, improbably, the same one. For a moment he was transported back to when he was seven when that great storm had knocked over his swing set, destroying it before grabbing hold of poor old Mrs. Woodson and sweeping her down the street to her eventual demise. How appropriate, he thought, for this new morning to start where yesterday had ended, complete with his earliest memory of death. He’d come full circle.

  Through the open window came a burst of cool air, causing the curtains to billow inward. Adam saw Vanessa curl up even more in an effort to fight off the chill. Getting up from the bed, he knelt before her, his warm hands rubbing her toes. She smiled down at him, tousled his already messy bed head. It was a sweet gesture between two people who knew actions spoke as loudly as their words, perhaps said even more about the newfound bond between them.

  “Is it really possible,” he said, “you know . . . us.”

  “Sshh, Adam, let’s not go there. Not now. I mean, I have those same concerns . . . but let’s not put those words out there, not yet.”

  He leaned in, kissed her.

  A lashing echo that spread across the morning sky broke their kiss. The same whirring, whirling sound that had stirred Adam from his otherworldly sleep, whatever it was now grew closer. And closer still. He looked up, his ear cocked like a dog hearing something humans couldn’t. Even Vanessa heard it now, coming out from her distant funk as she was.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  It was his turn to shush her. She clammed up, allowing him to listen with more intensity. They were far up on the hill, and the outside sounds were easily deafened by the copse of trees that stood like sentries before the old house. Had they been in the back of the house or living room, they might not have even registered any noise. But on the second floor, inside the front bedroom and with the window open to the world beyond them, sound traveled. It was growing closer, coming from the road.

  “It’s a siren . . .” he said.

  “Our cars,” Vanessa said, leaning forward. “They’ve been found, rescue is just beyond the door. Come on, Adam, let’s get back down to the crash site so we can let them know we’re okay. They can take us to a hotel and we can shower and eat like . . .”

  “Like a normal couple.”

  Despite the circumstances, she laughed. “Yeah, that I don’t think we are.”

  Quickly he donned a T-shirt and jeans from the floor before racing out of the room in his bare feet. His ankle no longer bothered him. Vanessa too had bare feet, and she was still dressed in the flimsy remnants of the dress. Down the stairs they both went and out the door, beyond the porch and into the cool air. Storm clouds rumbled by, rain pelted at them, but neither acted as a deterrent. There was no telling what time of day it was. No moon and no sun were evident; a gray pall hung over them.

  “Vanessa, wait . . .” Adam said, pausing to catch his breath as much to assess the situation. He gave another listen; this time there were multiple sirens, whether ambulance or fire truck or perhaps both, they sounded as though they were nearing the field where they had crashed their cars. The rescue workers wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon, so what was their rush?

  He halted in his tracks, watching again as Vanessa co
ntinued toward the crash site. Why wasn’t he as anxious as she to be rescued? Because he didn’t want their precious time together to end. Could she not wait to be found? Indecision hit him like a brick. A hollow feeling settled inside him as he realized that their night was indeed over, perhaps too all they had shared. They had been living a fantasy inside that farmhouse, and here came reality screaming back into their lives. He turned, looking back at the solemn façade of the farmhouse; how quiet it looked now, unoccupied and alone, almost like the ghost of Aidan Barton was all that remained inside those walls. Against the dark backdrop, it was a mere studio set, ready to be torn down. The movie was over. Or had at least reached its penultimate scene.

  That’s when Adam regained his traction on the wet, muddy lawn, and he began to chase after Vanessa, who had already reached the road’s shoulder. The grass was slippery against his bare feet, but he knew the paved road would be worse on them. Hell, there was an ambulance on the other end to take care of any cuts or bruises. If bloodied feet was the worst either of them suffered, lucky them.

  The hard road had slowed Vanessa down, and so Adam was able to catch up to her. She said nothing, just kept walking with determination, her steps ginger against rough tarmac. With silence walking beside them, they made slow progress along the rain-slickened road. The breeze picked up, nearby cornstalks wavering in the wind. No cars zoomed by. It was still just them alone in the world, at least for now.

  As they rounded the sharp bend in the road, the sight they came upon appeared surreal. Swirling red lights illuminated the closed-off road, and three trucks—one fire, two ambulances—were positioned strategically to keep any onlookers, not that there were any on this desolate road, from rubbernecking at the accident scene. The only people who appeared to be present were the rescue workers: several firemen in their protective gear accompanied by a couple of EMTs, all of them scurrying around the crash site like ants under a hot sun. Vanessa tugged on Adam’s sleeve, pointing to just beyond the trucks where a lone car had pulled onto the road’s rocky shoulder. A middle-aged couple stood beside the car, holding each other with nervous apprehension while they addressed one of the firemen. They were pointing toward a shredded field of corn.

  “They must be the people who came upon the accident and called for help,” Vanessa said. “Let’s go up to them and tell them who we are. That we’re okay.”

  “Wait, Vanessa. Let’s just see how this plays out.”

  “Why? We were the accident victims, we’re not going to be in the way.”

  She started forward, but Adam reached out for her hand in an attempt to keep her back. With one quick motion she wrenched her arm free of him. “Over here,” she called out, waving her arms in the air. “We’re okay, we’re right over here.”

  No one turned to her. None of those gathered at the accident scene appeared to even hear her. The couple continued to point, and then the fireman nodded before rejoining his team.

  Vanessa turned back. “Adam, why didn’t they respond?”

  “I don’t know . . . but like you said earlier, something’s definitely weird. Can we do it my way, please, and hang back? See what happens?”

  “This makes no sense,” she said.

  “It hasn’t from the start.”

  She stood beside him, her arms wrapped around her torso, staving off the chill from the rain that continued to fall around them and penetrate their skin. Adam took a step forward, then another. Vanessa asked him what he was doing and he assured her he’d be right back, to just wait there. For once, she didn’t run and she didn’t argue, she merely stood her ground while Adam inched closer to the accident scene. He could hear the voices of the rescue workers.

  “Yeah, chief, the one car is turned on its side,” said a burly guy with a thick mustache, a heavy ax over his thick shoulder. “Over there, in that cornfield. Skid marks on the road show the driver tried to apply the brakes at the last minute. Probably what made him turn sideways.”

  “Let’s get the hell over there, see if we can find the driver,” said the older chief, nodding, taking command of the situation with authority. He pointed, instructing several of his men to check on Adam’s car to see what they could uncover. Adam found himself trailing after them. What he noticed sent an alarming, bone-felt chill throughout his body. Because the fact of the matter was that no one was paying him any attention; his presence had gone undetected. It was like he’d turned invisible, like he wasn’t even there. He decided not to attempt to talk to anyone. If they hadn’t heard Vanessa and they hadn’t seen him, what did it matter?

  Instead, he ventured off the road and into the familiar field to get a look at the action. He could see his totaled rental car now, still overturned, the windows shattered, the driver’s side positioned against the ground. The same burly firemen he’d seen earlier climbed atop the car, not unlike when Vanessa had yesterday . . . today, whenever that had been. The fireman peered into the passenger window where the glass had shattered.

  “Hey, mister, can you hear me? Are you okay, are you conscious?”

  Adam blanched, his face going ghost-white. Fear swimming inside him, his head turned to the point of whiplash. Who the hell was the fireman talking to? Adam was right here, he wasn’t inside the car. He couldn’t be . . .

  “I can’t be,” he said aloud.

  Though he was standing a mere two feet from the fire chief, who was speaking into a radio, Adam continued to be ignored.

  “Get any response from him, Georgie?”

  “Nothing. Guy’s out, I see a lot of blood, chief. This doesn’t look good.”

  Adam stood frozen, listening to those words. They reverberated inside him, like a pinball ricocheting off too many targets, his bones and his lungs, his still-beating heart. Firemen and emergency workers suddenly sprang into action, working diligently, quickly, efficiently, but carefully too, at opening the passenger-side door. Crushed glass and squeaking metal drowned out their voices, and when at last the door came free, the lead fireman slipped inside the wrecked car. Time stood still as they all waited for the results of the examination the guy was no doubt performing on the victim. The victim, who happens to be me, there inside the car but standing here too, Adam thought crazily. Barely a minute passed before the rescuer reemerged, shaking his head.

  “He’s gone.”

  “What do you mean I’m gone?” Adam asked.

  “Gone? Who?”

  Adam spun around, expecting to see the fire chief but instead who he saw was Vanessa. He felt her soft hand grasp his, damp with sweat and rain. From her expression she knew something had gone terribly, awfully wrong. Neither of them spoke a word and neither asked for an answer to their unheard question. They stood in shocked silence and watched fruitlessly as Adam’s crumpled body was pulled out of the car, laid down on a stretcher that had been fetched from one of the waiting ambulances. He looked at himself from this short distance, afraid to go any closer and see the damage up close. What was happening, it was impossible. Wasn’t it?

  Another emergency worker leaned over his body, again checking for a pulse on the neck, his wrist, searching in vain for any sign of life and coming up empty. The woman looked up, said to those assembled, “Doubt the guy ever had a chance. Look at that gash on his forehead, you can see a piece of glass slicing right into his skull. It’s just the beginning of a nasty shard that looks like it went right into his brain. Guy probably died on impact, or shortly thereafter.”

  “Nooooo!” The deafening voice came from beside him.

  Vanessa was screaming as she tried to race forward. Adam grabbed her, fighting against the strength of her adrenaline-fueled body. He held her, pressing his face into her cool neck, whispering that it was okay, it was okay, it wasn’t real, it was a nightmare, they were back at the farmhouse, still asleep, everything was perfect, it was almost time to wake up and get breakfast before they sought help. Not this kind of help . . . definitely not, because they were alive and they were fine and oh God . . . Adam thought, exhaustion g
iving way to sudden realization. He touched his forehead, felt the shard of glass still inside him. Why didn’t it hurt? Why didn’t it bleed? Because the shocking answer was before him. The truth. The EMT pulled a white sheet over Adam’s body, covering his entire self, legs, torso, his blood-streaked face. Like Adam had ceased to exist in this world . . . their world. It was just like Adam had awakened this morning, the shroud covering his face.

  “Chief . . . over here,” said a new voice booming from beyond the cornfields. “I found the other car. And good news . . . the vic, she’s still alive . . .”

  Adam turned to ask Vanessa how that was possible, but he discovered he was as alone as he’d ever been. How was that even possible? She’d just been in his arms, crying, protesting the fact of his death. And now he felt nothing, not her touch and not her breath on his neck and the comfort she gave him. Not even did he feel the rain that fell from the sky or the cold wind that ripped through his clothes and smothered his body. He was dead.

  But somehow, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, Vanessa was alive.

  “Where am I . . . who, who are you . . . ?”

  They had already pulled her from the wreckage, easing her body onto the gurney.

  “Sshh, don’t talk, miss. Let us examine you. You’re going to be okay, you hear me?”

  Vanessa nodded, trying to listen and obey. But she wanted to talk, and when she wanted something, nothing could stop her. “Cold. I’m cold all over.”

  “You’ve been stuck in that car, rain falling on you for over an hour, maybe more. It’s not a nice night tonight, the storm’s not leaving us anytime soon,” said a man with a gentle smile and crinkly eyes. “But we’ll get you safely into the ambulance and get you plenty warm, okay? You just hang in there.”