Our eyes are in a battle of who will answer Patricia.
Then we both burst out with, “Okay.”
Our voices in unison seem to take her aback. I guess we both had a little vigor in our tones.
“Wonderful. I’ll get you the key and prepare a snack plate for you. I serve brandy at 9pm unless the do-not-disturb sign is on the door… of course.” She assesses both of us, then she turns on her heel and disappears down the hall.
“Are you fine with this?” I whisper to Hailey. Because this is a test of resilience.
“Yeah, why not? We’ve been in a car all day together.” Her voice seems uneven.
“You’re right.”
Patricia returns holding up a key. “Here you are. The sheets are fresh and the pillows fluffed.”
I accept the key. “Thank you. We’ll grab a few things from the car then head on upstairs.”
“Alrighty then. Snacks are on the way, and I will also let you know if we all need to move to the storm cellar. I think this one will just be a severe storm.”
“Thank you,” Hailey politely replies.
We both head to the car and quickly grab our overnight bags and leave the large suitcases in the trunk. Little balls of hail begin to fall, and we quickly jog up to the porch where the roof provides protection.
Hailey pauses and focuses on the wind chime hanging in the corner. The sound dings as the chimes swirl in a near violent rage. Yet, a subtle fondness sweeps across her face as she stares.
“Is this warning us?” I wonder, with my jaw slack.
Her eyes slide to look at me.
“The chime reminds us of the wind. You know, some Native American tribes in the plains would often call a tornado a devil wind. Some believe it is an angered spirit, while others believe that a strong storm is cleansing for a new beginning,” she explains whimsically.
Her stance is soft and innocent yet sinful and persuading. We take a moment before we head inside and upstairs.
We open the door to the room, and I’m beginning to understand what the wind is trying to tell us.
Because there is only one bed.
5
HAILEY
I’m shaking.
Yet nobody would be able to tell because it’s inside of me.
The sound of the door gingerly closing behind me breaks my moment of soaking in the charming room, with a dresser, wood floor, and a big window with rain trickling down the glass from the sky, a dark early evening. It’s cozy and sophisticated. Tiny features of a century ago.
I spin on my feet and see Oliver standing there.
In this bedroom.
With one bed.
With me.
All day my resolve has broken off piece by piece. We haven’t ever had a day just he and I. I mean, sure, we would run into one another at Foxy Rox or when friends need group help. Then there was my brother’s engagement murder mystery last year where we ended up on a scavenger hunt together, and I swear he would have kissed me, but every corner when we found ourselves alone, someone would interrupt us.
Today is different. I feel it in my bones.
