“What words do I need to say to make you stop talking about her? I can’t.” She shook her head and stepped away from him. She pressed a hand to her chest. “I can’t.” She slammed out the front door.
He’d pushed too hard, too fast. Instead of making things better he’d made them worse. But her wild desperation tore his heart out. Had she ever grieved their baby girl? Made peace with her passing? Or had her guilt stolen that from her, too? He should have kept his damn mouth shut and held her close. He should have told her he loved her. And that he always would.
Chapter Ten
“Should hit soon,” Dr. Edwards said, peering out the front window for the eleventh time that morning.
She nodded, ignoring the old man.
The last couple of weeks had seen a smattering of electrical storms and howling winds. While she’d been wearing herself out doing her and Doc Edwards’s work, helping out with Pearl while avoiding Click, and lending the occasional hand—and guitar—at Fire Gorge, Dr. Edwards spent hours staring out the window proclaiming the imminent arrival of a funnel cloud. But, thankfully, not one tornado.
“It’s not tornado season,” she murmured, opening the file drawer.
Dr. Edwards chuckled. “It’s always tornado season hereabouts, missy,” he said. “You listen to an old man and get
your fanny home, and soon.”
She looked at him. “We have patients waiting.” She glanced at the clock. It was barely two in the afternoon.
“Those damn sirens always go off too late,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “John Mason’s whole barn was sucked clean up into a twister before the damn sirens went off.”
She glanced out the window. “When was that?”
“Oh, let’s see, back in eighty-eight, I guess.” He shrugged.
The sky was red with dust, the wind rattling the glass in their panes. But that didn’t mean much. “What makes you think we’ll see a tornado today?” It was the same question she’d asked at least five times in the last two weeks. He always had a different reason, each one more interesting than the last.
“My left knee,” he said.
She frowned. That was disappointing. “Well, let me know when it’s about time and I’ll—”
“Doc Edwards,” Charlene called out. “Tommy Juarez just called, from over in Alpine. Said they’ve had two touch down in the last couple of minutes.”
He nodded. “You know the drill.”
Tandy didn’t. “What’s the drill?”
“Charlene sends them all home,” he said. “Tommy wouldn’t have called if they weren’t coming this a’way. You get yourself on home, you here? We got this.”
She sighed, closed the drawer and looked at Banshee. He stood, staring out the window. That got her attention. She made sure all the kennels were secure before grabbing her keys. “See you tomorrow,” she said on her way out the door.
The town looked closed up tight as she and Banshee climbed into her truck and headed to her cabin. They were pushed this way and that on the road, the gusts shaking her nerves more than once. Still, she didn’t want to get caught out on a flat road with nothing to hide behind. It was only as they were pulling into their drive that she realized they had no storm cellar.
She pushed the door open and braced it with her leg, letting Banshee slip out first. She followed, reaching back for her bag. The wind slammed into the door, pushing it into the back of her head and shoulder, making her see stars.
“Shit,” she called out, leaning against the cab and pressing a hand to the back of her head. Banshee whimpered, circling her. “It’s okay,” she said, holding on to the truck bed to stay upright.
The wind roared like an out-of-control freight train.
Banshee started barking. He whined, then ran off, barking furiously.
“Banshee?” She blinked, staring into the thick red air. No sign of him. She couldn’t see much through the dust clouds. If he’d left her in search of shelter, she didn’t blame him. She clung to the truck bed, reaching back to probe the lump on the back of her head. “You’re fine,” she murmured. There was blood. She shook her head, but that hurt, too.
The wind carried sound to her, distorted and wavering. She heard Banshee, but he sounded far away. Someone was yelling? And that damn roaring wind. She needed to get inside. Banshee needed to get inside. The damn cabin had lasted this long, she’d hope it would make it through this time.
“Banshee!” she called, but the wind whipped it away. She clung to the truck, a sudden gust of wind kicking up dust and making it near impossible to see. Up until now, she’d dismissed Dr. Edwards’s announcement. But now, now she was beginning to panic.
“Banshee?” she yelled, letting go of the truck and staggering a few steps. She was light-headed. Probably a concussion. Great. She just needed to make it to the house.