Chapter 6 - The Night of the Storm
Nature has a cruel sense of timing.
The storm hit on a Friday—the exact fourteen-month anniversary of the night Lauren’s SUV had slid across the wet asphalt of the Saw Mill River Parkway.
By nine in the evening, the wind was tearing through the Hudson Valley at fifty miles an hour. Heavy, torrential rain battered the high glass windows of the Morrison estate, rattling the leaded frames like angry fists.
Kevin sat in his dark study on the ground floor, a glass of untouched Scotch resting beside a stack of legal briefs. Every crash of thunder sounded like the impact of steel on concrete. Every flash of lightning illuminated the empty armchair across from him where Lauren used to sit reading interior design magazines.
His hands were shaking. A cold sweat soaked his collar.
He was experiencing a full-blown PTSD panic attack, paralyzed in his own chair, unable to breathe, his mind trapped in the emergency room hallway smelling of antiseptic and despair.
Suddenly, a massive flash of blue light illuminated the sky, followed instantly by a deafening roar of thunder that shook the mansion to its foundations.
The lights flickered once, twice, and died.
Total darkness plunged the house into icy silence.
From the second floor, a scream ripped through the air—a raw, shrieking wail of pure terror.
*Justin.*
Kevin tried to stand, but his legs were like lead weights. The trauma had physically paralyzed him. He dragged himself toward the study door, his chest heaving, his lungs refusing to take in air.
*I have to get to them. I have to save them.*
Before he could reach the hallway, the study door swung open. A beam of golden light sliced through the darkness.
Annie stood there holding an old kerosene lantern, her hair tied in a loose braid, wearing an oversized flannel shirt over her pajamas. Behind her, bundled in thick wool blankets, were Jordan and Justin, clinging to her waist like barnacles.
“Kevin!” Annie called out, her voice cutting through the ringing in his ears.
She caught sight of him leaning heavily against the bookcase, clutching his chest, his face pale as chalk.
She didn't hesitate. She ushered the boys into the room, setting the lantern securely in the center of the heavy oak desk.
“Boys,” Annie said in a calm, melodic voice that brooked no argument. “Build a fortress under your father’s desk. Take these pillows. You are the guardians of the perimeter. Do not come out until I give the password. Understand?”
“What’s the password?” Jordan whimpered, trembling as thunder rattled the glass again.
“Orange blossom,” Annie said firmly.
The boys scrambled beneath the massive mahogany desk, pulling the wool blankets around themselves, finding comfort in the enclosed, safe space.
Annie turned immediately to Kevin. She walked over, grabbed both of his trembling hands, and pulled him down until they were both kneeling on the Persian rug in the corner of the study, out of the boys' line of sight.
“Look at me, Kevin,” she commanded, her voice fierce with compassion.
Kevin couldn't focus. “The truck… the glass… Annie, I wasn't there. I should have driven her that night. I should have been in the car—”
“Kevin, look at my eyes!” Annie took his face in her hands.
Her palms were warm, rough, and real. The shock of her touch snapped him out of the spiraling vortex of his memory. His dark, tormented eyes locked onto her warm brown ones.
“You are in Westchester,” Annie said slowly, her breath warm against his cold skin. “It is October twenty-third. Your boys are alive. They are three feet away under that desk. You are alive. Lauren is gone, Kevin, and it wasn't your fault. Do you hear me? It wasn't your fault.”
A choked, jagged sound tore from Kevin’s throat.
The dam that had held back fourteen months of billionaire composure, corporate stoicism, and masculine pride shattered completely.
Kevin Morrison leaned forward, buried his face into Annie’s shoulder, and wept.
He cried for the woman he had loved and lost. He cried for the months he had abandoned his sons to expensive strangers because he couldn't bear to look at their mother’s eyes in their faces. He cried for the crushing, suffocating loneliness of walking through twenty-four empty rooms every night.
Annie didn't pull away. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him against her chest, rocking him gently in the lantern light while the storm raged outside.
She held him the exact same way she had held his motherless boys.
“I’ve got you,” Annie whispered into his hair, tears slipping down her own cheeks. “You don't have to be the strong one tonight, Kevin. I’ve got you.”
Beneath the desk, the storm howled, but the children stayed quiet, listening to the soft, rhythmic murmur of the woman who had made their house safe again.
May you like
And in that dark, lantern-lit room, Kevin Morrison finally let go of the ghost that had been haunting him, anchoring his broken soul to the living woman holding him in the dark.
***
