She shook her head to get rid of the guilt she felt over acting like she did. She picked up the few books she owned and handed three to Dana. “These need to go back to the library. Can you do that, or should we go by before we leave town?”
“I’m going tomorrow so I can do it,” Dana said as she grabbed the books. “Have you had your mail forwarded?”
Aurora made a mental note to do it tomorrow and said so to her friend.
“By the way, that guy you’re with… wow. Are all his brothers that gorgeous?”
Aurora couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you were married?”
“What’s the old saying; that doesn’t mean I can’t look? So, are they?”
“Yes.” Aurora glanced around the room. She didn’t own much, so there weren’t that many things to pack. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me.”
“Anytime, my friend,” Dana said. “Your bed will always be here if you need it.”
Dana stood and the two women hugged. Dana crossed to the window and looked outside. “It looks dark out there. Maybe the two of you should stay here overnight and head back in the morning. You don’t want to get caught in a storm.”
“Holt will want to get back,” Aurora said. “We’ll be fine.”
She picked up the two trash bags. “Thank you again.”
“Like I said, anytime.”
They went into the living room, and both men stood as they walked in. Holt had his cowboy hat in his hand, and she could swear his boots were already pointed at the front door.
“Is that it?” he asked with a frown.
“This is all I own,” she said.
He put his hat on his head and grabbed them both from her. “I hate for us to run, but the weather is looking dicey.”
“You’d better get going,” Jake said. He put his arm around Aurora’s shoulders and squeezed. “Come back anytime and bring your friend. We’ve been talking fishing, and you know how much I love to fish.”
“That makes two of us,” Holt said.
After they’d said their goodbyes and climbed into the truck, Aurora’s chest tightened.
“What’s wrong?” he asked after they were on the highway.
“I’m nervous,” she said. “This is all so new to me. Prison, and Dana’s house, are the only two homes I really remember. My parents didn’t always want me at home, so I spent a lot of time at the library. When I was sixteen I got a job at the local movie theater. That’s where I met Ben.”
She stopped talking and she looked out the window at the passing scenery. “Sorry for the verbal diarrhea.”
“Keep going,” he said.
“I need something to drink,” she said.
He pulled off the highway at the next stop and she stayed in the truck while he ran in a convenience store and bought sodas. When they were back on the highway he said, “Finish your story. I’m listening.”
Aurora took a drink from her bottle and said, “I got pregnant when I was seventeen. My parents thought it was the perfect excuse to get rid of me.”
“Shotgun wedding?” Holt asked.
“Yes,” she said. “Three months after we were married I lost the baby.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I lost the baby because Ben got mad at me and slammed me to the floor.” Was it her imagination or did she see his hands tighten on the wheel?
“It got worse from there.” She took another swig from her soda. “Eleven years later he was dead.”
It had started to rain, slowly at first and then picking up as they drove. Thunder rolled across the area and lightning lit up the sky. The sounds made her nervous and she wrapped her arms as tightly around her chest as she could. The seat belt bit into her shoulder and she loosened her grip.
“You realize none of that was your fault?” he asked. He’d slowed down as the rain increased.
“According to my mother it was,” she said. “The first thing she asked me was what I did to make him mad.”
Hail started to hit the truck, small pellets at first, and Aurora clasped her hands together.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Enclosed space with lots of noise,” she said. “Not really.”
“I’ll find someplace to pull over.”
“Hopefully someplace we can go inside.” They were in the country, so the chances of that happening was slim to none. The hail grew in size, the stones hitting the windows and making her even more nervous.
“There’s a rest stop,” he said. He pulled off the road as the hail grew in size. Just as he parked the truck golf-ball sized hail started to fall. They hit the windshield and the sound of it cracking filled the cab.
Aurora screamed and covered her face with her hands.
“I’ll check to see if the building is unlocked,” he said.
“No, it’s golf-ball sized hail!” she yelled out, but he was already out of the truck. It was raining and hailing so hard she couldn’t see him, so when the back door of the truck cab opened she screamed again.
“It’s locked. Get in the back!” he ordered.
Aurora scrambled between the small space between the front seats, then lay down on the back seat at his order. The hail continued to beat on the truck, and when he placed his body over hers she grasped him tightly and buried her face in his chest.
“Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop!” She grasped his shoulders in her hands. The hail sounded like gunshots as it slammed into the windows and truck. Her body shook with each strike.
“Shush, shush,” he whispered in her ear. “I’m here, I’ll take care of you, it’s all right.” He held her tight and whispered, “It won’t last long. It’ll be okay. Shush, shush, it’s okay.”
It didn’t feel like it was okay. Every time a hailstone hit the vehicle she felt the gun go off in her hand. She heard Ben groan in pain, and she saw blood. Aurora tightened her grip on Holt’s shirt. Feeling his weight on her finally offered her comfort, made her feel as if she would make it through this.
“It’s letting up,” he whispered. “My truck is probably beat to hell, but it’s letting up.”
Aurora sniffled, then laughed. “For the second day in a row I’ve smeared tears, snot, and makeup on your shirt.”
He laughed, and then to her amazement he leaned down and kissed her.
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