Sweet Blessings

The lights blinked off and stayed off. Pitch black echoed around them.

Amy didn’t move. “It looks like we lost power. Do you think it’s off for good?”

It stayed dark. That seemed like answer enough. Amy was trying to remember where the flashlights were when Rachel’s chair creaked and it was followed by the rasp of a drawer opening. A round beacon of light broke through the inky blackness. Leave it to Rachel. Amy breathed easier. At least they’d be able to close up without feeling their way in the dark.

Lightning flashed, and immediately thunder crashed like breaking steel overhead. Closer. The front was coming fast and moving toward home. She thought of her little boy. Westin was safe with the baby-sitter, but he’d be worried. She couldn’t call to reassure him. It wasn’t safe with the lightning crackling overhead and besides, if the power was out, then the phone lines were probably down, too.

She grabbed her purse from the shelf and her jacket hanging next to it, working in the near dark, for Rachel was hogging the flashlight to zip the cash receipts and the day’s take into her little leather briefcase. Once that was done, Amy hurried ahead and rechecked the front door—locked, just as it was supposed to be—and followed the sound of Rachel tapping through the kitchen toward the back door.

Outside seemed just as dark. An inky blackness was broken only when lightning strobed overhead and speared into the fields just out of town. It was definitely heading south. All she wanted to do was to get home before a tree or a power line blocked the road out of town.

She manhandled the door closed and turned the key in the dead bolt. The wind whipped and lashed at her, strong enough to send her stumbling through the puddles. In the space between lightning bolts, she could feel the electric charge on her skin. It came crisp and metallic in the air.

Rain came in a rage and it bounced like golf balls over the battered blacktop lot and over them. She hadn’t gone two yards and she was drenched to the skin. Following the faint glow of Rachel’s flashlight, she let the wind hurl her toward two humps of shadows that became two parked cars as they stumbled closer. The windshields gleamed, reflecting the finger of fire sizzling overhead. Lightning snapped into a power pole a block or two away. The thunder boomed so hard, Amy’s eardrums hurt with the shock.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t see another shadow until headlights flashed to life. She recognized the row of piercing fog lights blazing atop a pickup’s cab. Oh, heavens. It was the two men who’d hassled her in the restaurant.

It happened so fast. The truck screeched to a halt inches from Rachel, who’d been in the lead. The passenger door thrust open and suddenly there he was, the dark form of a stocky man, muscled arms held out with his hands closed into fists. Everything about him screamed danger. He stalked toward Rachel like a coyote ready to strike.

Amy didn’t remember making the choice to fight instead of run. She was simply there, between the man and her sister. Protective anger made her feel ten feet tall. “Get out of here. Now.”

“Hey, that’s no way to talk. I just wanted to give you girls a chance to make back your five bucks. Maybe even earn a tip.” The strong scent of hard liquor wafted from him.

She wasn’t afraid; she was mad. “That’s a horrible thing to say. Shame on you. You get back in your truck and leave us alone, or I’ll—”

“Yeah, what are you gonna do, pretty lady?” he mocked, and then the smirk faded from his shadowed face.

For out of the black curtain of rain emerged another man. One who stood alone.

Maybe it was the glaze of light snaking across the sky behind him. Or the way his dark hair lashed in the wind, but he looked like a warrior legend come to life. There was no mistaking the sheer masculine steel of the man as his presence seemed to silence the thunder.

He didn’t utter a word. He didn’t need to. The look of him—iron-strong and defensive—made the troublemaker shrink back as if he’d been struck. The ruffian cast one hard look at Amy—she saw the glint of malice before he leaped into the cab and slammed the door. The truck shot through the downpour, roaring out of sight.

Amy realized she was trembling from the inside out, now that the threat was gone. She swiped the rain from her eyes. She didn’t know why some people behaved the way they did. As long as Rachel was safe. They were both safe. She remembered to send a note of thanks heavenward.

And her loner—her protector—waited, his back to them, his feet braced wide, his fists on his hips looking as invincible as stone as he watched in the direction of the road, as if making sure those troublemakers weren’t doubling back.

“Oh, I can’t believe those men! If you can call them men.” Rachel walked on wobbly legs toward her car. “I’ve got to sit down.”

“They scared me, too.” Amy opened her sister’s car door and took the keys from her trembling hand. She sorted through them for the ignition key as Rachel collapsed onto the seat.

“Are you all right?”

Amy turned at the sound of his voice, rough like the thunder and as elemental as the wind.

He was simply a man, not legend or myth, but with the way he looked unbowed by the rain and lashed by the storm, he gave the presence of more.

When he spoke, it was as if the world silenced. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? I came across the parking lot as fast as I could.”

But from where? Amy wondered. He could have come out of the very night, for he seemed forged out of the clouds and dark. She swiped a hand across her brow, trying to get the rain out of her eyes and saw the faint glaze of lightning reflecting in the windows far down the alley. The town’s only motel. That’s where her loner had come from.

“You arrived just in time,” she assured him, standing to block the rain for her sister. “We’re all right.”

“Thanks to you. Again.” Rachel was still clutching the briefcase to her chest.

Amy knew what she was thinking. Rachel had their day’s take tucked in her leather case. It was a lot to lose, had the men been interested in money only.

“You ladies want me to call the sheriff?” The loner kept his stance and his distance like a protective wolf standing on the edge of a forest, ready to slip back in.

“No, it looks like the phone lines are down, too. I’ll stop by and see the deputy. I drive right by his place on my way home—”

Lightning flashed like stadium floodlights, eerily illuminating the parking lot and the three of them drenched with rain. Thunder exploded instantly and a tree limb on the other side of the alley crashed to the ground, smoking.

The rain increased so she had to shout to be heard. “This is dangerous. Get inside. I’ll—”

She didn’t get to finish her invitation for breakfast in the diner. The lightning returned and made every surface of her skin prickle. Here she was, standing up in the parking lot, and how dangerous was that? She yanked her car door open and dove into the seat, grateful for the shelter. Through the rain-streaked windshield, she could see her loner in the parking lot, a dark silhouette the storm seemed to revolve around.

Rain hammered harder, sluicing so fast down the glass she lost sight of him. When the water thinned for a second, he was gone. There was only wind and rain where he’d stood.

Good. He’d returned to his motel room, where he’d be safe. The car windows began fogging and she realized her fingers were like ice, so she started the engine and flipped the defroster on high.

In the parking spot beside her, Rachel’s old sedan came to life, too, the high beams bright as she put the car in gear, creeping forward as if to make sure Amy was okay.

Amy wasn’t okay, but she knew her sister wasn’t going to drive off and leave her sitting here. So she buckled up and put the car in gear. She ignored the groan of the clutch because it needed to be replaced and, after creeping forward, realized she needed both the wipers and the lights on.

Rachel’s car moved away and Amy followed her, steering through the downpour that came ever harder. But her gaze drifted to the rearview, where the motel ought to be. She couldn’t see it; there was only darkness. Remembering the loner and the way he’d stood as if he were already not a part of this world, she wished…she didn’t know what she wished. That he would find rest for whatever troubled him.

She would always be grateful he’d stepped between her and possible danger twice. Lord knew there had been times when that wasn’t always the case.

The rain pummeled so hard overhead, she couldn’t hear the melody of the Christian country station or the beat of the wipers on high as she let the storm blow her home.

“Mom!”

The instant Amy had stumbled through the front door, she’d been caught by her son. His arms vised her waist, and he held on tight, clinging for moments longer than his usual welcome-home hug as thunder cannoned over the roof and shook the entire trailer.

Oh, her sweet little boy, the shampoo scent of him, fresh from his bath, and the fabric softener in his astronaut pjs just made her melt. She feathered her fingers through his rich brown hair the color of milk chocolate and when he let go, he didn’t look scared. But his chin was up and his little hands balled tight. Westin was great at hiding everything, true to his gender.

Only she knew how storms scared him. The hitch in his breathing told her his asthma medicine was working. The image from earlier today of the needle pricking along his spine tore at her. Her little one had had a rough day, and she remembered how he’d set his jaw tight and not made a sound. Tears had welled in his eyes but he hadn’t let them fall.

Her tough little guy.

She knelt to draw him against her. “I figured you’d be sound asleep by now and I wouldn’t get to read you another chapter in your story like I promised.”

“The thunder kept wakin’ me up. It’s loud. So I just stayed awake.”

That was his excuse. Tough as nails, just like her dad had been. Every time she looked at him, she saw it, the image of her father, a hint that always made her remember the man who’d been twenty feet tall for her. Who could do anything.

There were the little things Westin did that would twist like a knife carved deep. In the innocent gestures, as he was doing now, chin up, arms crossed in front of his chest, all warrior. Tough on the outside, soft as butter on the inside. Yeah, he was just like her dad.