The Christmas Kite by Gail Gaymer Martin

Author:Gail Gaymer Martin [Martin, Gail Gaymer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steeple Hill
Published: 2003-10-19T20:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Meara combed her flyaway hair and caught it in a scarf at the back of her neck. She needed a haircut, but Jordan had mentioned how pretty her hair looked long, and she hesitated to make a change. Foolishly, she hung on to every word he said, savoring it like a rare fruit.

Tonight she was curious. Along with Otis, Jordan had invited her and Mac to his house. Business, he’d said. Praying nothing was wrong, she hurried Mac out of the apartment and they climbed into the car. In the afternoon, the sky had been overcast and the temperature cooler than usual for August. Clouds had billowed on the horizon and moved across the lake in dark brooding masses.

Now they hung over the area, heavy with rain. Flashes of slithering light darted across the horizon. Meara glanced in the back for her umbrella. The brightly colored fabric lay folded on the seat.

Before they’d gone a mile, large drops splattered on her dusty hood and blurred in rivulets down her windshield. The wipers splashed back and forth across the glass in a steady rhythm, their music only muffled by the occasional rumble and clap that rolled through the sky.

Through the curtain of trees, the sky ignited like a raging forest fire followed by a deafening roll of thunder. Mac ducked and clutched her arm.

“Careful, Mac, I’m driving. We don’t want an accident.”

He placed his hands over his ears. “Stop the noise, Mama.”

“I can’t. We’ll listen to the music.” She snapped on the radio and searched amid the crackle and fizz of static until she found some pounding rock music. She hiked up the volume, hoping it would drown out the frightening storm.

The dark road hazed in the pelting rain, and oncoming lights blurred her vision. She gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles and swung into Jordan’s driveway, parking next to Otis’s sedan. As she reached into the back seat, the house’s back door opened, and Jordan darted outside, flinging open a wide umbrella. In two strides he was at the door, and then he sheltered them as they hurried inside.

As they dashed through the doorway, another jagged bolt ripped through the sky, and Mac slammed his hands over his ears. “Stop it,” he ordered.

Jordan wrapped a protective arm around his shoulder. “You’re inside, pal. Nothing can hurt you now. I turned the TV on for you.” He addressed Meara. “It’s an African safari program about animals. Is that okay?”

“He’ll like that.”

After being greeted by Dooley, Mac headed for the living-room entertainment.

Meara hesitated for a moment, wishing things were different. Once again she and Jordan weren’t alone. Lately their meetings were business or casual conversation with others around and no time to talk privately. They hadn’t talked about their Fourth of July evening, and since that night, a twinge of discomfort crept through Meara when they were together. Besides, she was still curious about Jordan’s friend Blair. What offer had he made?

“We’ll talk at the kitchen table. The TV noise won’t bother us that way.

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