âWhat if today was the last day we had?â Lexi asked.
As the tornado surged outside, she looked up at him and wondered why she had let him go so easily. The words were definitely more maudlin than sheâd intended.
âAt least weâre together,â he said.
âTogether?â She shook her head. She knew without a doubt that she wasnât over her husband. He whispered that he sometimes felt the same way and she smiled, even though she knew it wasnât real. This wasnât real.
But his arms around her were real. This was what happened when two people were afraid and they didnât know if they would have a tomorrow. And if they did survive, theyâd go back to living separate lives, careful to never really look at one another. But for this moment, with their lives hanging in the balance, she chose to not think about it, about tomorrow, and about losing him all over again.
started creating stories to entertain herself during hour-long rides on the school bus. In high school she wrote romance novels to entertain her friends. The dream grew and so did her aspirations to become an author. She started with notebooks, handwritten manuscripts and characters that refused to go away until their stories were told. Eventually she put away the pen and paper and got down to business with the computer. The journey took a few years, with some encouragement and rejection along the wayâas well as a lot of stubbornness on her part. In 2006, her dream to write for Steeple Hill Books came true.
Brenda lives in the rural Ozarks with her husband, three kids and an abundance of cats and dogs. She enjoys a chaotic life that she wouldnât trade for anythingâexcept, on occasion, a beach house in Texas. You can stop by and visit at her Web site, www.brendaminton.net.
July 10
The patrol car cruised Main Street of High Plains. There was no breeze, just July heat and heavy humidity. A glance out the open car window confirmed what Police Chief Colt Ridgeway already knew. It was anything but a normal day. The air was too still and the sky had that funky green tint that set a guyâs nerves on edge and raised the hair on his arms.
Foreboding, there was a definite sense of foreboding with the town streets nearly empty at four in the afternoon and the leaves on the trees turned bottom up in advance of the rains that were coming.
Colt had been sitting in his car on a road at the edge of town, storm spotting. Now he headed for the police department connected to the fire station. Two of his officers were still posted on side roads, as were several volunteer firemen. From the looks of things, High Plains, Kansas, was in big trouble. The southern horizon was dark and the clouds rolled. A definite wall cloud had formed and he could see the rotation, even at this distance.
His scanner blasted the information about the latest warning and the tornado siren connected to the town hall went off. The sound blared loud and then soft as it rotated on the pole. Colt hit his siren and lights.
A dozen or more times a year they went through this same scenario, cruising the streets and neighborhoods of High Plains to warn the residents that a tornado had been spotted. If people couldnât hear the tornado siren, he wanted them to hear the siren on his car.
His radio crackled and the voice of one of his officers, breaking up but discernible, blasted his ear. Colt lowered the volume.
âGo ahead, Bud.â
âChief, itâs on the ground, ten or fifteen miles out of town.â A muttered comment from Bud.
âTake shelter, Bud.â
âGod saveâ¦â The deputyâs voice faded.
âBud?â No answer. Colt had to hope it was just interference. He really had to hope, because the kid was young and just out of the police academy.
Colt wouldnât lose an officer. He shook his head, remembering the younger copâs shortened sentence. God save us.
God wasnât going to save them. Colt could have told the younger officer that heâd prayed more than once in his life, and he wasnât sure God was listening.
Maybe this time?
Until God proved Himself, Colt would have to do the saving. The people of High Plains had entrusted him with that duty. He drove through a quiet neighborhood, his siren blaring, and headed back to Main Street. The wind picked up and he could smell rain. He could see the dark band of precipitation heading their way.