Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [113]
Adamsville
Dirk parked at the curb in front of the house, and he and Ravinia came bounding up to the door through the rain, a quickly sogged newspaper serving as a makeshift umbrella. Thomas waited with the door open and helped them in.
“You need a lighthouse!” Dirk said, vigorously shaking Thomas’s hand. He embraced Grace, and Thomas noticed her stiffen before hugging him back.
As Thomas expected, Dirk and Rav were in business attire, but Dirk immediately accepted Thomas’s offer to shed his suit jacket and tie. He was a hard man not to like, effusive, loud, articulate, funny. He was smart enough to have to be aware of the elephant in the room, but it was apparent he had adopted the son-in-law role and planned to relish it. It was as if he thought the in-laws could hate him if they wanted, but he was theirs to hate.
When the power came back on, Thomas had a fleeting wish it had stayed off. Awkward as this was, it was worse in full light.
Grace served tiny meatballs pierced with toothpicks.
“A nice cold one would go great with these!” Dirk said. “Oh! Sorry! My bad. A nice cold anything, I mean.”
Grace brought him a glass of water, which he ignored.
“This is so nice, Mom,” Ravinia said, and it warmed Thomas to see that she too was working hard to make the best of a tense situation.
“We’re serving your favorite tonight, Ravinia,” Grace said.
Rav grabbed Dirk’s arm. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“You did. She did, Mom and Dad. Any wonder she’s the brightest lawyer in her firm?”
“My firm! In my so-called firm, the partners share cubicles.”
Dirk howled. Thomas and Grace smiled. Dinner could not come soon enough.
Addison
The storm blew past the landscaping office as quickly as it had come, and except for the driver’s-side mirror and some creasing of the door, the pickup looked little the worse for wear.
Brady picked up his check and hurried out the back. The wind was quickly dying, but on the horizon in the direction he was heading, the sky was pitch-black. He supposed he ought to stop by the restaurant and check on his mother, though she probably hadn’t given his safety a second thought.
The highway was crowded, and with six miles to go on Touhy Avenue, it was stop-and-go. Cars from both directions took turns avoiding downed power lines and branches. Emergency personnel were obviously overtaxed; in some intersections civilians were directing traffic.
Brady pulled into the packed parking lot of Judy’s Feed Bag, a hash house owned by a guy who had named it after his granddaughter. The place was hopping, every table occupied, but most patrons stared out at the storm as they ate.
“I’m lookin’ for my ma,” Brady told a girl at the counter. “Erlene.”
“Went home. She was worried about you. Said you were off school today and might have been home when the tornado hit.”
“One touched down?”
“Tore up your trailer park, so they say. But at least you’re all right.”
Brady burst from the place and jumped in Peter’s car. He tried driving on the shoulder to pass lines of cars, but when he came to obstacles, no one would let him back in. One guy shot him the finger and screamed, “We’re all in a hurry, pal, okay?”
Adamsville
Thomas decided on a simple prayer, thanking God for all the blessings of life, including Dirk and Ravinia, and for the provision of food and a wonderful wife and mother to prepare it.
“Amen to that!” Dirk said. “I’m starved.”
Thomas found Dirk charming. And while the man seemed to know how to make Grace feel good about herself and her cooking, he seemed a little less affectionate toward Ravinia than Thomas remembered. Of course, he hadn’t seen them together all that much, and the first time was before they had even moved in together. The last time he had seen them was at the wedding, and naturally they had been affectionate there.
Maybe they were just settling in,