angel who’d saved her from two storms, the one in the sky and the one raging in her overworked mind. Shrugging, she told herself to be practical. So the man had a few connections. No need to go staring off into fantasy land, thinking he’d come to rescue her from all her troubles.
Telling herself to stay clear, she glanced around one last time. “Well, that’s about all we can do until tomorrow. I’ll have to talk to the insurance adjuster, see where we stand. Of course the livestock will have to be taken care of—that can’t stop.”
Bren nodded. “You run this place all by yourself?”
Dana pushed back tufts of naturally curly hair. “I try.”
His gaze circled the land. “Looks like you’ve done a good job.”
She scoffed. “Yeah, until Mother Nature decided to rearrange things for me.”
His gaze touched on her face, then stayed to travel slowly down the rest of her. He took her hand. “You should get into some dry things and try to rest.”
“Sure,” she said, thinking she’d never be able to rest easy again, not after running from a twister and meeting up with an interesting stranger, all in one afternoon. Just the shock of all this, she supposed. “You don’t have to take us into town. We have the truck.” She saw the relief pour over his face and asked him, “What about you? Where are you headed?”
She felt his grip on her hand tense, saw his head swing back toward the Universal Unity Church before he looked down at her.
“To Wichita,” he said, his expression evasive. “I have business to tend to there.”
She let go of his hand, then immediately wished she hadn’t. It was a spot of warmth in this chilly, grim setting. “C’mon, Stevie,” she called, her heart breaking as he struggled with the few treasures he’d managed to save.
Together, they walked back up the lane to the pickup where Stephen deposited the photo album and baseball glove he’d found, along with some books and video game cartridges.
Dana, on the other hand, had saved very little from the house. They didn’t have anything of real value, and besides, what should she save from a pile of shattered dreams? The toaster, the working parts of a computer, the soggy white homemade prom dress she’d worn her senior year of high school, the only remaining place setting of her mother’s prized china she’d collected with S & H green stamps?
Did she take part of something to remind her of the home she’d sometimes loved, sometimes hated, or did she just throw away every broken piece and keep the bittersweet memories?
Again she felt Bren’s presence. Again she marveled at the man’s even being here. He’d saved her, no doubt. Each time she’d wanted to let go of the silent scream pitching through her mind, she’d looked to him. And he’d given her that solid, mysterious look, just as he’d promised. His eyes had calmed her, his unflinching resolve had guided her in such a way that she wondered if he ever got flustered or bent out of shape about anything. She wondered a lot of things about him, come to think of it. Like where he was from, where he was headed and why he was here to begin with. But he was about to be gone, out of her life. What would she do then?
Silly, she told herself, you’ll do what you’ve always done. You’ll survive.
“I’ll take you back to your van,” she said, indicating the sleek black vehicle still parked out on the highway.
Smiling, she hopped into the truck and waited as Bren helped Stephen stash his salvage before they both crawled inside the wide cab with her. “So,” she said after cranking the truck, “what do you do for a living?”
Bren must have seen the teasing light in her eyes as she nodded toward his van, but he didn’t smile. Instead he looked straight ahead at the gray ribbon of road. “I’m a businessman, and it’s a long and complicated story.”
And one he obviously didn’t want to talk about. “I’m not being nosy,” she said. “It’s just that you appeared out of nowhere, and well, you don’t say much, do you?”
He pushed a hand through his damp hair. “You’ve got enough on your mind, looks like to me. I won’t burden you with my sorry life.”
He was right there. She had more than enough to keep her thoughts falling on top of each other without listening to him. Yet she’d like to listen to him. His lilting, flowing dialect sounded like a sweet ballad to her ears. Pulling the truck up beside the long van, she noticed the dark-tinted windows and the gold-etched star-spangled trim work running along the sides of the sleek, mysterious vehicle. Then she saw the ancient Christian symbol of the fish centered on the windshield. That brought her a small measure of reassurance, but he certainly was a man of mystery. And now that he’d helped her settle things into some semblance of order, he seemed intent to be on his way.
She watched as he got out of the truck, wishing he didn’t have to hurry away.
Stephen called after him, “Hey, Mr. Bren? Thanks—I get that Lou Gehrig card, right? I get Lou Gehrig, for sure.”
Bren’s dark eyes fell across Stephen with a gentleness that reminded Dana of a calm midnight sky. “Don’t worry, Stephen. I know where to find you. You will get your card. You take care of yourself until we meet again.”
Stephen bobbed his head. “Me and Dana, we always take care of each other.”
Dana put the truck into neutral and hopped out to meet Bren as he rounded the front. Stopping, he tossed up a hand toward Stephen, then turned to gaze down at her.
“I’d like to thank you, too,” she said, not knowing what else to say with him looking at her as if he could read all of her thoughts. And right now, she had a lot of them running through her head.
She wanted him to tell her his sorry story, she wanted to know what kind of business he was involved in, she wanted to understand why he’d been so kind to her, and how he’d managed to make her feel safe in the middle of a raging storm. But she could only look up at him, and keep wondering.
Bren stared down at her, his dark eyes searching her face, seeming to memorize her features, which only made her more aware of him. She knew she was a mess, hair damp and probably frizzing to the high heavens, face more muddy than made-up, lips pale and wind roughened, but she didn’t stop him from looking. She studied him just as candidly. He, too, was wind tossed and dampened. She’d never seen a man with such rich, dark, too-long hair, and with eyes to match the finest black-blue velvet. He looked like some dark lord of the manor from another time.
Before she could look away, Bren reached for her and tugged her close, his fingers moving over the tender spot on her head. “If you need anything—”
“I’ll be all right,” she said into the soft cotton of his black shirt. “I’ll never forget what you did.”
He reached inside the pocket of his jeans and handed her a soggy card. “There’s a number where you can reach me—a private cell phone number. Call me if you need help. All I ask is that you don’t give that number to anyone else.” Then he let her go.
The warmth from his body left her, to be replaced with a cold, uncaring wind. She stood in the misty rain, watching as he got into the big, black van and drove away. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was watching her. Dana waited until his van was out of sight down the long straight
