The Devil's Storm Page 4

  Adrian kept up the momentum though and suggested taking the long way home. What he didn’t factor in was the long way home included going past Colonial Park Cemetery. This was not good for two reasons:

  1) At this time of night, it was always crawling with tourists. At

  least outside the gates, anyway. Ghost tour companies always capitalized on the supposedly haunted cemetery with such an interesting past. No one could resist a good tale of yellow fever and the dozens of poor souls buried alive when they were only comatose. The tales of the origins of death bells always elicited fallen jaws or gasps from the riveted crowds.

  2) A cemetery. On all the days.

  When they got back to Abercorn Street, the sidewalks were crowded with not just one but two large groups of tourists. Summer, they had heard, was always the worst, followed by Saint Patrick’s Day. It was just something they would have to accustom themselves to as Savannah residents now.

  Madeleine rolled her eyes in annoyance but gave a sporting laugh. “Tourists,” she huffed. “Let’s cut through the cemetery.”

  Adrian cut his eyes at her. “Don’t they lock it at night?”

  “You’re tall. Give me a boost and hop the gate. It can’t be that hard.”

  “You’re in a dress for Christ’s sake,” he laughed in response.

  She gave him a knowing grin. “Won’t be the first time you’ve had a peek up my skirt.”

  Well, at least she seemed to be in a better mood. And that last comment had been...rousing. Adrian knew full well cutting through Colonial Park Cemetery of all places would land them in a spot of trouble with the Savannah Police Department, and these guys had made a national mockery of themselves by making a huge deal on social media about the dangers of placing googly eyes on the city’s monuments. Adrian had gotten a good laugh out of the comment section for days.

  When they got to the wall, he asked one last time, “Are we sure we want to do this?”

  “For goodness’ sake, Adrian. Live a little. What are they gonna do? Fine us?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  Madeleine rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of being rich and privileged if you can’t buy your way out of trouble now and then?”

  He couldn’t argue with her there. They walked toward a shadier part close to the main cemetery gates where he crouched down to one knee. “Wanna marry me?” he joked as he prepared to give her a boost over the wall. Madeleine smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “One day,” she began as she took off her heels and stepped gingerly into his awaiting hand, “I think I just might do that.”

  She stood and threw a leg over the wall. Adrian snickered as she scooched over the top, but in mere seconds she was over and grinning at him from the other side.

  “Are you coming?” she asked. Adrian stepped several paces back and checked to make sure no one was coming. He took a run and used his hands to springboard his long legs over the fence. “Shit,” he cursed with a laugh as he fell over the wall where Madeleine awaited on the other side. “That hurt my hands. And I think I scratched my shoes.”

  Madeleine gave him a theatrical pout. “Awww, poor baby.”

  “OMG, Madeleine,” he returned in his best valley girl impression, “these shoes are Italian leather. They were like...$1500.”

  Madeleine rolled her eyes as they started down the path through the cemetery. “They probably were.”

  Adrian gave a sheepish laugh. “I think they were two grand, but hey, it’s just money, right?”

  “You’ve got it to burn, baby,” Madeleine said whimsically.

  A few moments of silence passed between them. “You seem to be in a better mood,” Adrian finally dared himself to say.

  Madeleine bit at her lips. “I got a little withdrawn there, didn’t I?”

  “It’s no big deal. You know I just want to make sure you’re happy,”

  Madeleine stopped, turned, and threw her arms around him. “I know you do,” she whispered as he embraced her in kind. “But you don’t have to worry about trying to keep me happy. You make me happy by existing.”

  “I just worry,” he admitted. “So much. I know you don’t want to hear that—”

  “It means the world to me, Adrian,” Madeleine said looking him straight in the eye. He checked—her eyes reflected that light again, the essence of everything that made Madeleine McCollum so amazing. “You have no idea. After all, I have been through, just having someone here with me that I can trust…”

  He kissed her with all the gratefulness he had within him. He

  would never take for granted that her body had held on to her soul, rebuilding their friendship, or the opportunity to find his soul mate. No one could know what life held for them in the future, but Adrian knew in his heart that he would never let her go. "I love you, Madeleine Janis McCollum," he murmured as he took her hands in his.

  “Not the middle name,” she groaned.

  “I love the fact that your parents were Janis Joplin-loving hippies and still raised the greatest woman in the world.”

  “Well, I for one hate it and don’t even consider it my name."

  They walked through the dark together, hand in hand. Even though they were trespassing through a graveyard in the middle of town, Adrian felt at ease. Since Madeleine was happier, he reclaimed his normal laid-back demeanor.

  “Do you consider our...relationship, an affair?”

  Adrian stopped in his tracks. He cast his eyes to his scratched, expensive Italian leather shoes. “Is that where all this is coming from?” Madeleine only responded with a shrug as they continued walking in silence. “I don’t like to think of it that way,” he finally answered.

  “I don’t either. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t an affair.”

  “No. It doesn’t,” Adrian admitted. “And maybe we need to own up to that.”

  Madeleine turned to look at a gravestone to her right. It was old, thin and worn throughout the years of weathering and abuse at a plethora of hands, restored by others. When he and Madeleine had still been new in town, they’d taken all the tours. Savannah certainly had a fascinating—and sometimes macabre, mystical—history. During the Civil War, after Sherman’s fiery campaign that brought Georgia to her knees, he had stopped at Savannah, declaring it too beautiful to burn. He had presented it as a gift to President Lincoln on Christmas. It was too bad Sherman’s soldiers didn’t think so highly of Mr. Lincoln’s gift. They grew bored sitting around in all of Savannah’s Eden-esque beauty after pillaging and plundering an entire state for months on end. To entertain themselves, the Union soldiers would carve ridiculous causes of death on the tombstones of Colonial Cemetery, or change the birth and death dates. Some poor man had died at the ripe old age of 544, or at least that’s what the date on his tombstone declared.

  “Look what all of this comes down to,” Madeleine began, breaking the still quiet of the cemetery. Adrian turned to see that she was pointing to the tombstone, a plainer one among the lot, belonging to a Mr. Samuel Brighton.

  He gave a sheepish smile and shrugged. “Care to explain that, dear?”

  “Look at the date,” Madeleine began. “You get a birth date and a death date, and in between those two tiny points in the infinite span of time, a tiny dash. That’s it. We get one dash to make this life everything we want it to be. To live it in a way that makes us proud.”

  “It goes by quick, too. When we were in high school, it seemed like I’d have everything figured out by the time I graduated college. College seems like yesterday. Now here I am, thirty-four, and I feel like I’m finally starting to get my life in order.”

  Madeleine pursed her lips and began to walk down the path to approach the southside gate. “Ade, we hurt a lot of people to get here.”

  His throat tightened as if he were being choked by some ghostly presence. Here, it was always a possibility, if you believed the stories. His mind projected faces of the people they both loved but had hurt. Lee, Emily, his parents...Madeleine wasn’t wrong. They had paid
a high price for the chance to have a life together. They risked it all.

  He shook his head. “I didn’t want to hurt anybody. God knows I miss my family. And I feel guilty about hurting Emily.”

  “I hurt a man I once loved very much,” Madeleine said blankly as they approached the other side of the cemetery. “I separated you from a brother and best friend. I ruined a family. How did I allow myself to do that kind of damage?”

  Adrian held her hand, wrapping his fingers through hers. “We made some mistakes. Some big ones. But you and me? That’s not one of them.”

  Madeleine shook her head, eyes watering. “No. No, it isn’t.”

  He placed a hand on her cheek and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. But seconds he didn’t intend to invest passed quickly, and the Lord knew he never tired of her lips against his, or her indescribable, exhilarating taste. “Let’s get home,” he murmured.

  With another boost over the fence, Madeleine and Adrian had gotten themselves through Colonial Park Cemetery without being detected and were mere minutes away from being back at 26 East Gaston. Their walk back was silent, but their entwined hands held a conversation all their own. Sparks formed the second the backs of their hands brushed while crossing the street, and their hands knew exactly how to best fit their palms and intertwine fingers. Adrian found his heart beginning to sink deeper in his chest with strong beats as his thumb traced the span between her thumb and forefinger. Their eyes met as they stepped onto the marble porch, giving confirmation. Adrian couldn’t unlock the door fast enough. The second they had both passed the threshold, they melded into one another’s comfort, thankful to have someone to love so much.

  Chapter Seven

  Madeleine’s first thought the next morning was how the shadows of July 12 had seemed to dissipate. She had woken up from a comfortable, deep sleep, nestled tight in Adrian’s arms, and her body felt like the rising sun itself, radiating warmth and a sense of peace from deep within. She turned into his chest, snuggling close for a few more minutes. Laying there, Madeleine thought it was as close to Eden as she’d ever get.

  She liked how his lips just barely parted when he slept. And how long his eyelashes were. Or how a good eyebrow waxing could change his life. Well, he couldn’t be that perfect.

  Her fingers longed to trace the thin, silver scar that ran from his temple down the side of his face to his cheekbone. He had gotten it following Lee, jumping off a waterfall on a camping trip. Eight stitches later, their mother had been livid with both of them. It was funny to think of Adrian and Lee as mischievous boys. Poor Maggie Beth, her boys had probably aged her beyond her years.

  Looking at Adrian, she remembered his question yesterday—when were they going to have children? When would she (hopefully) have a smaller version of Adrian Atwood running around the house, running barely ahead of his father? Both of them would probably render her completely gray by the time she hit forty, but she couldn’t wait.

  Kissing his scar, she gently finagled her way out of his arms and to the bathroom. He was still asleep by the time she was out of the shower, so she dressed and slipped downstairs to make breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes, bacon, and eggs would be a great start to their morning. Maybe they would pack the Jeep and head out to Tybee that afternoon. A day at the beach sounded heavenly. And maybe it wouldn’t be a terrible place to drop a hint that she really liked emerald-cut rings, but nothing too flashy. Just in case he was wondering.

  “After all,” Evelyn’s voice sliced through the quiet morning, “you

  wouldn’t have dared put Lee through so much hell if you weren’t sure Adrian was your soulmate.”

  Madeleine decided she wouldn’t even turn to face Evelyn. She was in too good of a mood. Instead, she focused on the beach. A day at Tybee with Adrian. Swimming in the surf, writing on the hot sand while he cracked open a beer and fell asleep next to her while they baked in the sun.

  Evelyn was not deterred, however. She sidled her way to the counter next to the range where Madeleine was cooking, then jumped to sit on the counter with a smug grin

  “He can’t seem to keep his hands off you. How many nights has that been in a row, now? I hope you’re remembering your birth control.”

  “One, I have no idea. I’m not exactly keeping track how often we sleep together. And two, we’re...being careful,” Madeleine responded, paying Evelyn as little mind as possible.

  “Just being careful? You’re not on birth control?” Evelyn questioned with a raised brow. “Are you insane?”

  Madeleine scoffed as she flipped the pancakes. “I would love to have a baby with him. And Adrian would be over the moon. What do I care if I get pregnant?”

  “Let’s see how over the moon he is when you miscarry.”

  Oh God, the words hurt. They wrenched open an already gaping wound, poured in dunes of salt and stitched it right up. “Get...out,” Madeleine ordered through clenched teeth.

  “Or what? You’ll count again?” Evelyn taunted with a sly smile.

  “Picture something good, picture something good,” Madeleine murmured to herself as she noticed her heartbeat rising. She started with a blank canvas, and then Forsythe Park. The sky was a perfect blue and wispy cirrus clouds danced across the sky. The sun was shining bright and streamed through the leaves of the oak trees, casting lace shadows on the soft grass. She pictured Adrian, smiling, laying down on a blanket, and held up above him in his arms, the most handsome little boy she’d ever seen. He couldn’t have been more than two and had his father’s jet-black hair and her eyes. His pudgy face beamed, and he cackled as Adrian lifted and lowered his small body into the afternoon air while he hummed the Superman theme song.

  It was perfect.

  “He’ll never make it,” Evelyn warned.

  Madeleine smiled. “He will. I just know it. I have faith.”

  “Your body will fail you like it does every time. You couldn’t carry a baby in your twenties. Why would you be able to in your thirties?”

  “Because this is right,” Madeleine breathed, still caught up in her mind’s imaginings. “This is what our lives should have been all along.”

  When there was no response, Madeleine opened her eyes. There she was, back in her kitchen, without Evelyn. It was getting easier to get rid of her. Thank God. She just had to stay positive—easier said than done, but she seemed to be improving.

  But it didn’t take the least bit of effort to be positive when she heard the slight creak of the stair steps as Adrian bounded down them, and within mere seconds he was whisking into the kitchen, already showered and dressed in shorts and his favorite Atlanta Hawks t-shirt. “Good morning,” he started in a sing-song tone as he wrapped his arms around her hips from behind and kissed her cheek. “Those wouldn’t happen to be chocolate chip pancakes would they?”

  “They would,” she chimed. “Can you grab me the eggs?”

  “Want me to make them?"

  Madeleine snickered. “You can try."

  “What’s that supposed to mean? I only burnt them that one time!"

  He dutifully went to the refrigerator and grabbed everything they’d need for scrambled eggs, which for Adrian meant extra cheese and a container of hot sauce. He went ahead and cracked the eggs for her and whisked them together. It couldn’t get better than Saturday morning, with the twelfth in the past and the thirteenth, usually, such an unlucky number marking a present and a future with promise.

  Madeleine froze, heart, pounding as the realization set in. It couldn’t be possible...For weeks she had been so concentrated on the fact that the twelfth was coming up that it hadn’t even occurred to her.

  She looked over to Adrian, who was throwing copious amounts of cheese into the scrambled eggs he was cooking. Her hands were already shaking.

  “You ok?” he asked, nonchalant, keeping his eyes trained on the eggs.

  “I-I’m late,” she stammered.

  He looked confused. “Late for what?”

  Madeleine narrowed her eyes at him. �
�Adrian.”

  He looked over, obviously confused, and the second he saw her face, he understood. “Oh!” And as second passed. “Oh my God.” Adrian took a deep breath. “This is the weirdest combination of excitement and nausea ever. Okay, what do we do next?”

  “Well, we don’t panic,” Madeleine began, feeling panic coursing throughout her entire body. “Since you’re the one who’s dressed, go to the drugstore, and buy a pregnancy test. Buy a pack with two in it. Just in case.”

  “Okay. Two pack of pregnancy tests,” Adrian murmured. “I can do this.”

  “Be careful,” she warned as he walked, trance-like out of the kitchen and towards the garage, praying he wasn’t so shocked that he managed to get into an accident in the whole mile-long trek.

  ~*~

  Adrian’s heart throbbed in his throat as he walked through the automatic doors of the CVS on Bull Street. He had spent the past several months of his life fantasizing about having a life with Madeleine, marriage, and children included, and he still wanted that more than anything, but now, he had to admit he was nervous.

  The so-called Family Planning aisle was overwhelming between rather questionable flavors of lubricant, a wide array of condoms, and then an entire eight feet of ovulation and pregnancy tests. Holding a bright red CVS basket in his hand, Adrian stared wide-eyed at the variety. Should he spring for the fancy digital ones, or would the cheap ones do? And what did he care what the pregnancy test cost? Should he get the ones that advertised a result six days before a missed period? Was one more accurate than the other? They all seemed to assert 99.9% accuracy, but he questioned why one only cost a few bucks, but other packs were twelve? It didn’t make sense. From an engineering standpoint, 99.9% accuracy seemed pretty damned good, but was it really that accurate? This test would tell if he was going to be a father. Accuracy was important.