The Passing Storm by Christine Nolfi

Chapter 36

At eight o’clock, Night on the Square was about to begin. In Chardon Square’s center green, a large dance floor was set up near the courthouse. On the dais, the live band tuned their instruments. At the other end of the green, white table linens fluttered. Tables were set up across the expanse, as well as in the gazebo and the maple shack at the other end.

Rae asked, “How are you holding up?” She was standing alone with Yuna near the courthouse, away from the general commotion.

Yuna patted her baby bump. “The morning sickness hasn’t bothered me for weeks. Over and done with.” She looked down, past her shimmery teal dress, to her feet. “The swollen ankles are no picnic.”

“Once Kenji arrives, it’ll all be worth it.” The happy couple would welcome their new son into the world later that summer. “Is Kameko still referring to her brother as the ‘mean baby’?”

“Not lately.”

“Wow. Talk about a turnaround. I assumed she’d keep up the nonsense until she met her baby brother.”

A sudden grin took Yuna’s lips hostage. “Okay, you got me. She probably would’ve. One of those bad habits a kid picks up, and it’s hard to break.”

Now Rae was intrigued. “How did you cure her of the ‘mean baby’ habit?”

“Through negotiation. We narrowed down our son’s potential name to three options. We let Kameko pick her favorite. When he’s old enough, she can tease Kenji about being allowed to pick his name. I’m sure he’ll find ways to tease her back. The story of siblings, right?”

Rae didn’t know; she’d grown up as an only child. But the thought was surprisingly sweet. Yuna’s two younger sisters both lived nearer to Cleveland. Kipp’s older brother was in Columbus, but they were also close.

“Griffin and Sally still tease each other,” Rae said, “even though they’re in their thirties. I’m glad they’re still close.”

“Where is Griffin?” Yuna checked her watch. Kipp was already at the table the foursome would share with another couple.

“Go on—sit down with Kipp. Stand here much longer, and you’ll need to pee. Griffin’s just running a little late. Some hang-up at work.”

“I always have to pee.” With a wave, Yuna hurried to their table.

Near the gazebo, Rae spotted him. Griffin had stopped to chat with Quinn—who looked agitated. Last night, Griffin had come out to the farm. He’d presented the youth with a fancy, space age–looking razor. They’d spent long minutes alone in the guest bathroom as an eighteen-year-old boy received his first lesson in proper shaving.

Dressed in a new blazer, Quinn swept the crowd with his gaze. The petite Ava, her brown hair swishing across her back, appeared at his side. They were grinning at each other foolishly as Griffin, taking his cue, ducked into the crowd. He was shaking hands and pausing for brief conversations as he wended his way toward the courthouse, where they’d agreed to meet.

Mik was in a minimum-security prison near Dayton. Probably for another two years. He was participating daily in the prison’s anger-management sessions. He’d also volunteered to help younger inmates learn the basics of mechanics in the facility’s workshop. Small steps, but for a man with a deplorable history of abusing others, they meant something.

Penny was long gone, their house sold. No one knew where she’d gone; Quinn didn’t care. Nor was he interested in visiting Mik—only Rae had made the trip, once.

She went alone.

She doubted she’d ever find the means to forgive what he’d done to Quinn—or to her, so many years ago. She was only human, and that level of forgiveness seemed beyond anything she was capable of achieving. But she wanted to make peace with the past—to confront it, then let it go. She was no longer satisfied with burying the worst secrets or allowing them to fester inside her.

Rae only stayed long enough at the correctional facility to get the facts: what Mik had done to her, he’d never done to another woman. There was no way to know for certain that he’d told her the truth. But she believed that he had.

In September, Quinn would begin commuting to culinary classes at Tri-C. The discussion of when Quinn would move out was off the table. Not for several more years, Rae hoped. He wasn’t done growing up just yet.

Griffin appeared at her side. “Sorry I’m late.” He kissed her.

“Were you trying to glad-hand everyone here? If you’re planning to unseat Kipp as Chardon’s mayor, we should give him fair warning.”

“Nope. Just making connections.” Spotting his sister and Trenton on the other side of the dance floor, he waved. Then he motioned toward a middle-aged woman in a flowered dress. “Is she the owner of the new printing shop? Maybe I should wander over, say hello.”

“Griffin, sell design services on your own time. You don’t see me hitting people up about their insurance policies. Stop working. We’re on a date.”

“Right.”

His glance skipped over her hip-hugging silk dress. She’d spent hours at the store, pushing off suggestions as Yuna—practically waddling and complaining about needing to pee—made her try on dozens of styles. Apparently, the effort was in vain.

Griffin said, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

He threaded his fingers through her long, untamable hair. “For not getting your hair done. I was afraid Yuna would talk you into going overboard. Styling your hair and putting it up on your head. I like it the way it is.”

“I need a trim. My hair’s getting too long.”

“I love your long hair.”

For proof, Griffin dipped his face near. He pressed a lingering kiss beneath her ear. Rae trembled. Drawing back, he smiled triumphantly.

They were at risk of their gazes tangling. Whenever it happened, Rae experienced the intensity of a July heat wave. Griffin, she knew, did too.

He cleared his throat.

Donning a reserved expression, he gestured at the festivities. “You did a great job.” His gaze was still fiery. He managed to drag his eyes from her face. “You’ve added lots of younger people to the mix. Young and old—a good blend. Night on the Square is becoming the city’s hottest event.”

“Don’t give me credit. Two of the men on the planning committee came to a truce. They’d been battling over a DJ versus the five-piece ensemble we’ve used in the past. They settled on a wedding band that plays modern and the classics.”

Griffin’s expression shifted. “I wish Lark were here to join us.” Sadness darted across his features.

The sky was turning from reddish gold to midnight blue. The evening’s first stars winked bright.

“I’m sure she is.”

“I loved her, Rae. In the brief months I knew Lark, I tattooed her on my heart.”

The admission touched her deeply. “Even though she wasn’t your child?”

“She was our child, Rae—in all the ways that count. Lark is stubborn, like her mother. Bright. And funny, when you least expect it.”

Now Rae’s eyes were misting.

“You’re talking as if she’s still here,” she managed.

“Because she is, in our hearts. Perhaps she’s watching over us too. Hanging out with Hester, somewhere past those stars over there.”

“Are you growing a mystical side?”

“I suppose.” A contemplative silence, then he said, “Like I was saying, Lark is stubborn like you. She intended to come into the world that night, and she did. The circumstances don’t matter. Lark arrived when she’d planned. I’ll always be grateful I got to know her.”

He reached for her hand. Rae clung tight.

“I’m glad too,” she murmured.

“I’m looking forward to getting to know her better, someday.” Griffin studied the darkening sky and the stars winking on in silvery threads. “Rae, during our last year of high school . . . we picked out four names. Remember? We wanted two girls, two boys. The perfect combination.”

“Lark, Sophie, Adam, and Penn.”

“Do you think our other kids are with Lark, waiting to make a grand entrance?”

The sweet question nearly closed Rae’s throat. Letting go of his hand, she trailed her fingers up Griffin’s sturdy arm, past his wide shoulder. She rested her palm against his cheek.

Then amusement—unbidden—melted the emotion tightening her throat.

“Reality check,” she said. “In our relationship, who’s the hare and who’s the tortoise?”

Griffin smiled. “I don’t recall.”