Low Pressure

Lying, she nodded.

“I also checked the weather radar,” he continued. “This is only the leading edge of a wide band of storms that isn’t predicted to move out until after midnight or better, so I stopped by the rental office and told them we’d be keeping the car overnight.” He turned the ignition key. “I made note of a hotel a few miles back.”

It was a short drive, but by the time he pulled the car under the hotel’s porte cochere, he could tell that Bellamy was holding herself together by sheer force of will. She’d kept her eyes closed and hadn’t uttered a sound. She was drawn up as taut as a bowstring, and her lips were so tightly compressed they were rimmed with white.

He parked the car where it wouldn’t block the through lane, got out, and went around to open Bellamy’s door. With a hand beneath her right elbow, he gently eased her out and placed his arm around her shoulders as he guided her through the entrance.

It was a moderately priced chain hotel, having a typical lo

bby with a navy and burgundy color scheme, polished brass lamps, and silk plants. Since Bellamy seemed incapable of moving, he secured a room with his own credit card, which he was reasonably sure would clear.

Within minutes of entering the lobby, he was unlocking the door to a room on the third floor and shepherding Bellamy inside. He went straight to the wide windows and closed the drapes, then used the remote on the nightstand to turn on the TV, which would help to muffle the noise of the storm. He switched on all the lamps.

Bellamy hadn’t moved from the spot where he’d left her. He went to her and chafed her upper arms. “Do you get like this every time it storms?”

“Since the tornado.”

“Have you seen somebody about it?”

Through chattering teeth, she laughed, but not because what he’d said was funny. “Thousands of dollars’ worth of somebodies. I’ve tried every form of therapy imaginable. None has helped.”

“Do you have something to take?”

“I stopped getting the prescription filled.”

“How come?”

“The medication didn’t help, either. It only made me woozy in addition to being petrified.”

“Maybe you should try the Dr. Denton Carter remedy.” His arms went around her and pulled her close.

But when he bent his head down to nuzzle the side of her neck, she pushed him away. “That’s your remedy for everything.”

“It works for everything.”

Although she’d squirmed out of his embrace, it hadn’t been altogether unsuccessful. A smile was tugging at the corner of her lips, which had regained some of their color.

“I’ve got to go move the car,” he said. “Are you going to be all right if I leave you alone?”

“I’m usually alone when this happens. I’ve learned to panic quite well in private.”

He bent his knees to bring himself eye level with her and tilted his head. “Will you be all right?”

“Yes. Inside, with the drapes drawn and the lights on, it’s better. I’ll take a hot shower. That’s calming, too.”

“Okay then.” He walked toward the door, but she stopped him. When he turned back to her, she said, “You didn’t get yourself a room.”

He held up the key card. “Yes, I did. Don’t use all the hot water.”

He found a parking spot not too far away from the building. On his race back, he had to lean into the strong wind. Small hail stones pelleted him and bounced on the pavement. The lightning was ferocious. But it wasn’t raining all that hard, so when he reentered the lobby, he was relatively dry. And starving.

From the lobby phone, he called their room. When Bellamy answered, he asked if she wanted to join him in the restaurant. “Or would you rather me have them box up something and eat in the room?”

“I’d prefer that.”

“Need me to come up and wash your back?”

She hung up on him.