Dane's Storm(19)

“Grandpa,” I breathed. My eyes widened when over his shoulder, I saw my grandmother standing on one side of a tall tree, and my father standing on the other. Standing. In my father’s arms was a small wrapped bundle that he cradled carefully, gently. My heart leapt, my throat constricting as longing welled inside me so suddenly and so intensely that I felt weak. A small moan of yearning rose in my throat.

“You must bloom, Audra,” my grandfather said. Slowly, my eyes moved to him and then to that small, cradled bundle.

“I want . . .” I croaked, reaching toward my father, reaching toward that beloved bundle I wanted so badly in my arms. “I want . . .” I repeated.

My grandfather smiled again. “Soon. But first you must bloom.” My grandfather looked over his shoulder at my father, and my father, looking more peaceful than I’d ever known him to be, smiled at him and then at me. “The war stole his spirit, and I gave up my own. You must not give up yours. Bloom, Audra.”

Bloom? I didn’t understand. I—



The loud ding woke me and I blinked my eyes open, groggy and discombobulated, unbalanced from the dream I’d had. Bloom, Audra. What the heck had that been about? I sat up straight, trying to shake off the strange dream and get my bearings. I was on an airplane, flying to California to see a man who had once looked at me with love, and then with pain, and finally a blank nothingness.

I took a deep breath, letting it move through my body. God, that dream. It’d left me with the weirdest feeling. I needed to shake it off.

I looked out the window and saw gray sky and billowy white clouds, and when I leaned farther, my forehead pressing against the glass, I could see the ground, and even make out individual buildings below. We were landing. My heart thundered in my chest, seemingly louder than the roar of the engine. You can still change your mind, Audra. Just get back on an airplane and fly home.

And what? Let Luella Townsend ruin my business? Stay curled up on my couch—in the home where time had stood still—and crumble to dust? I’d been tempted to do that another time as well, but I hadn’t. I’d gathered myself together and kept going. Maybe not in all aspects of my life, but at least in one. Thistles and Thatch. It had kept me alive—both literally and figuratively—by feeding my body and soul. I would not simply hand it over without a fight.

Feeling bolstered, I smoothed my hair back, worked out the kinks in my neck from sleeping in an upright seat for several hours, and prepared for landing.

The San Francisco International Airport was crowded and confusing, but I managed to find my way to the front where I stepped onto a curb filled with taxis and other vehicles. I hadn’t checked a bag, because I’d only be here for a couple of days, and I’d been able to fit what I needed in a carry-on. Wheeling it behind me, I asked a man in an airport uniform for directions to the BART—rapid rail transit—and twenty minutes later, I was on a train, moving rapidly underground toward downtown San Francisco. Thank goodness Jay had been able to help me plan all this in advance or I’d have been completely lost.

I almost missed my stop because of people watching, but managed to squeeze through the doors as they were closing, bursting out onto the train platform, my bag barely making it as the doors slammed and the train pulled out of the station.

I climbed the stairs to the street and pulled out my phone, following the directions to the hotel I’d booked. When I arrived in front of it, I groaned. God, it looked like a flea trap. Sighing, I pulled my suitcase inside. It was important that I be frugal, so I’d booked one of the less expensive hotels I found online. I just hoped it had clean sheets.

Check-in was quick and easy enough—the older woman at the front counter barely giving me a glance as she took my information and handed me a key card. I took the elevator to the third floor, let myself in the room, and considered my home for the next two nights.

The only other hotel I’d stayed in was on my wedding night at the Four Seasons in Denver. Dane and I had driven there after our ceremony at the courthouse. It had been the first time we’d slept in a bed together, and so filled with lust and love, we didn’t do much actual sleeping. My mind might have lingered on the sadness that memory evoked, on how desperately in love I’d been—on how hopeful happiness had filled me—but the strange smell in this room distracted me from those thoughts. I wrinkled my nose at the odor that hung in the air—something that brought to mind . . . hot dogs?

Stepping forward, I leaned my head into the open door to my right and clicked the light switch. It was a small bathroom, old but clean enough it seemed. I wasn’t used to anything much better as far as bathrooms went—not at this point in my life anyway—so I wouldn’t complain. It would do. Much like my house. Much like the meager food that was my diet. Much like my life outside work.

It would do.

The bed appeared to be clean as well, though I pulled up the sheet and checked the mattress as Jay had instructed. No bedbugs. I dropped the sheet and sat on the bed, sighing. California was an hour behind Colorado and so it was relatively early. I’d mapped out the commute, and I could make it from downtown San Francisco to where Dane worked in Silicon Valley in an hour and a half. If I hurried, maybe I’d catch him returning from lunch.

I’d worn jeans and a sweater on the plane, but maybe I should dress in something a little nicer to show up at his company. Did it matter? It wasn’t really like I was there to impress him. It was a personal matter. Still, I got up and took a few minutes to freshen up, bringing my toiletry bag into the bathroom and brushing my hair and reapplying some of the makeup that had worn off during the flight.