TWENTY

She cares and it’s as intimidating as it is heart-warming.

Leelo

“My apologies again.”

Henry Kline finally called me back. I’d left a few messages on his direct line last week, but I should’ve called the firm’s main number. If I had, I would’ve discovered he was on vacation.

Henry was my uncle’s lawyer and good friend, although he and I didn’t get off on the right foot. When he first got in touch to notify me my uncle had left me the motel, he’d assumed I would sell and had papers ready for me to sign, but I didn’t want to rush any decisions.

He’d seemed genuinely surprised when I called him back a few weeks later to let him know I’d decided to get the Whitefish Motel up and running again. He’d voiced concern it might be too much to manage on my own, but I made it clear my mind was made up, and since then he’s been very helpful.

“No worries,” I reassure him. “Entirely my fault. It’s a relief you were able to dig up the policy. I should probably have a copy on hand.”

“Probably,” Henry agrees. “In any event, before you call the insurance company, make sure you have a copy of the police report on hand. They’ll want to see that.”

“I’ll make sure. I’m eager to get this sorted out. It’s no fun trying to do the motel linens in my small washer and dryer. I have to run them all day, every day.”

“I bet,” Henry says, clearly uninterested in my laundry. “Out of curiosity, how is business?”

I spend the next twenty minutes filling him in on the improvements already in place, the steady flow of guests, and the success of my little restaurant. He seemed pleased and promised to drop by some time soon to taste my food.

Outside the morning is heating up. Thunderstorms are expected this afternoon, finally breaking this blasted heatwave. The guys are out there to finish the last stretch of the trail down to the water before the weather hits. It has to be ready for tomorrow morning when the concrete ramp will be delivered.

Grabbing a few cold bottles of water, I head down to where they are working.

“Hey,” Roar calls out when he sees me approach.

At some point he’s taken off his shirt and I do my best not to ogle his sweat-slicked chest. Since our little late night excursion on the lake a few nights ago, I’ve wondered when next I’d have a chance to get him naked. However, with my son just feet away, operating the Bobcat, the timing is clearly off.

I hand Roar the cold water, but he grabs my arm and pulls me in for a kiss. That’s something new these past few days. Before he’d barely touch me with Matt around, but now he does so freely. Aside from a few pointed looks the first couple of times this happened, by now, Matt barely seems to notice.

“Do I call Bill for a copy of the police report?” I ask Roar when he lets me up for air. “Henry just called with the insurance information. I want to get this ball rolling, so I can at least get those appliances out of there and give the space a good scrubbing.”

Instead of answering, he lets me go and pulls his phone from his pocket.

“Bill?—Yeah, Doyle. Listen, Leelo needs a copy of the police report. You gonna be in the neighbourhood?—Yes, the carcass.—Fine, I’ll let her know.”

He ends the call and slips the phone back in his pocket. I doubt that conversation even lasted a minute.

“He has to check on a report of an abandoned vehicle up the road anyway, so he’ll drop it off sometime in the next hour.”

“You don’t waste words, do you?” I tease. “No hey, how are you doing, just straight to the point.”

“The phone is for relaying messages—not for casual conversation,” he says, taking a drink of water.

“Says who?”

“Me,” he responds instantly, an arrogant smirk behind his beard, but his hazel eyes dance with humour.

“I’m pretty sure I remember a phone call or two where—”

“Tell me you brought me a water,” Matt interrupts, climbing out of the Bobcat, but before I have a chance to answer, Roar picks up the bottle and tosses it in his direction. “Sweet,” he says, twisting off the cap and downing half the bottle in one swig, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s hot as balls.”

“For now,” Roar says, grinning. “Look north, system coming this way.”

I look in the direction he’s pointing and sure enough, I can see a dark ridge of clouds and the sky beyond is almost black.

“Yowza,” Matt blurts out, dropping his bottle in the grass. “Best get this done, that looks like it’s coming fast.”

“Another hour if we’re lucky,” Roar says before turning to me. “They’re predicting heavy rains and high winds, so check you’ve got all windows and doors secure, and make sure you have enough fuel for the generator. These summer storms can pack a punch up here, and it’s not unusual for power to get knocked out. You want to be prepared.”

“Shit. Okay, I’ll check. But what about you? Shouldn’t you be doing the same at the lodge?” I ask him.

“Got ready before I came here this morning,” he explains, throwing an arm over my shoulders and tucking me close. “I’ll head over to keep an eye on things as soon as we’re done here.”

He kisses the top of my head, gives my shoulder a squeeze and picks up the shovel he dropped earlier. With one last eyeful of his strong back and tight ass, I reluctantly turn back to the motel to get it storm ready.

-

I’m just pulling a load of sheets from the dryer when I hear a loud boom outside, followed by an ominous crunching noise before a heavy crash shakes the house, and the next instant everything is dark and eerily quiet.

The storm hit about thirty minutes ago. Fat raindrops started hitting the roof and windows, drumming out a loud staccato. Not long after that, the wind started howling, almost drowning out the sound of the TV I had tuned to the Weather Network. When the rain stopped falling hard, the sky lit up with lightning.

Matt went down for a nap after Roar took off. He mentioned they’d probably need to give the trail one more pass tomorrow morning, depending on what the storm will leave behind.

I’ve just been putzing around since he disappeared. Doing laundry and looking into upgrading the poorly executed, single-page website Uncle Sam apparently put up years ago. One look at it and I decided to start from scratch. Already have a landing page built and was just working on a rates page when the dryer dinged. I’ll need to replace the default images with actual pictures of the motel, maybe of one of the rooms, but that will have to wait for a nicer day.

Fuck!

I drop the laundry and run to the computer. The screen is dark.

You know that slightly nauseating gnaw in your stomach when you wish you could go back just a few minutes and change what you now know to be a disastrous outcome? Right. A few hours of work down the drain because yours truly didn’t save. Not a damn thing.

Loud knocking on the door separating the house from the bar interrupts my self-flagellation, and I rush to pull it open.

A very bedraggled Peter Walters stands on the other side, dripping water all over my floor.

“So sorry to barge in on you like this, but you may want to come have a look.”

Something tells me the loss of a few hours of work is going to be the least of my problems. I shove my feet in a pair of flip-flops just inside the door, grab a slicker, and follow Peter through the restaurant to the front.

The rain is still coming down steadily and even though it’s only four o’clock in the afternoon, it’s almost dark outside. I’m surprised to see the rest of the Walters family sitting in the car in front of unit eight, but when I get closer I see why.

One of the tall pine trees lining the east side of the property is down, taking with it the hydro pole leading in power from the road, and caving in my roof.

“Jesus! Is everyone all right?”

I rush to the car parked out front and peek inside. Mrs. Walters rolls down the window a crack.

“We’re fine, dear. Just a little plaster dust,” she says, patting her wet hair.

“The kids?”

“Not a scratch,” she assures me.

“Come inside where it’s dry,” I suggest but she firmly shakes her head.

“Not sure that’s a good idea,” her husband pipes up behind me. “We should probably call the fire department.”

I whip around to look at him.

“What?”

“You have live hydro cables on your roof,” he points out.

Roar

“Phone!” Patti is standing in the open office door, yelling through the storm.

She tried heading home earlier, but a downed tree in the road effectively cut us off from the main road, so she had to turn around.

I took my truck and went to see if I could chain it to my truck and drag it to the side, but the thing is huge, covering the road from one end to the other, and wedged in the trees on either side.

There’s no simply pulling it out, it requires a chainsaw, which is why I’m back at the lodge, loading up whatever I think I might need when Patti calls out to me.

Pulling my beanie down over my eyes, I trot over to where she’s leaning out, my cell in her hand.

“Yeah?” I answer, stepping just inside the door.

“Tree down at the Whitefish. Took out the hydro lines and part of the motel,” my chief at the Wawa volunteer fire department barks without any introduction. “Head straight there. We’ll bring your gear on the rig.”

The last five years since the lodge has gotten busier, I’ve not been active as a volunteer firefighter, unless extra bodies are needed in case of major emergencies or when there are a large number of calls, which is probably the case now with the storm. There will likely be trees and power lines down all over the place, but the mention of the Whitefish Motel has me rushing out the door.

“Where are you off to?” Patti calls after me.

“Hydro lines down at the motel,” I call back, already jogging back to my truck.

“You can’t get out!”

Fucking hell. The road is blocked.

“Taking the boat,” I yell, changing direction to the dock.

“You’re crazy! You don’t go out on the water in this weather!”

“I’ll be fine, just keep the dog inside!”

She’s right, but I don’t slow down. I’ll stick close to the shore, but there’s nothing that will stop me from getting out there.

Once on the water, I pull out my phone and try contacting Leelo but I end up with voicemail. Over and over again.

By the time I slide alongside the dock, after a harrowing trip across the lake with the storm raging around me, I’m about to lose my shit. I lash the boat to the dock cleat and take off toward the motel.

You can’t miss the damage. The top of a large pine has caved in a portion of the roof over a few of the units, and I can see the exposed hydro cable hanging down the back of the motel. I head around the building on the other side, by the house, and run smack into Matt, almost knocking him down.

“Whoa! What’s going on? Where’s your mom?” I fire off, grabbing onto his shoulders to keep him upright.

“I have no idea, I just woke up,” he mumbles, somewhat disoriented.

Peter Walters is standing next to his car in front of the motel, but there’s no sign of Leelo. In the distance I can hear the siren of one of the station’s two fire trucks, as I make my way over.

Just as I’m about to tap him on the shoulder, I see Leelo darting out of unit eight, her arms full of what looks like laundry.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She stops dead in her tracks on hearing my booming voice.

I swear that woman can get my blood boiling in more ways than one.

“What is it about storms that makes you reckless and lose all common sense?” I snarl, my hands itching to shake some sense into this woman. “For your information, that room is half caved in and there are live wires dangling off the roof. Where in your head do you figure this might be a good time to collect the laundry?”

Leelo has been quiet so far, but her eyes have been narrowing to angry slits. Silently she turns to Peter, hands him the pile of whatever the hell it is, which he swiftly deposits in the trunk of his car. Ah.

Swinging around, she faces me with her hands planted on her hips, but before she has a chance to tear into me, the department’s rig turns into the parking lot.

-

“So you never mentioned you were a volunteer firefighter,” Matt says, standing beside me as we watch the fire truck turn back on the road three hours later. The bulk of the storm has passed, leaving only an occasional roll of thunder.

The Ontario Hydro crew showed up twenty minutes after the fire truck to secure the live wires and cut off power from the road. They won’t be able to make the necessary repairs until tomorrow, so the motel will be without power until then. We managed to cut the tree and clear the pieces before pulling a tarp over the hole in the roof.

The Waters family left shortly after my crew showed up, deciding to head home a day early, and the occupants of the other two rented units were shipped off to a hotel in town.

“I’m not active. I only get called in when they’re short bodies.” I turn around to see Leelo slip into the restaurant. She hasn’t spoken a single word to me since I got here. “You guys should grab a bag and come with me. I have a couple of spare beds and the power is still on at the lodge.”

“Not sure Mom will go for that,” Matt says, smirking. “You pissed her off good.”

“We’ll see about that,” I growl, heading after the source of my frustration.

I find her in the restaurant kitchen, pulling stuff out of the fridge.

“You’re better off leaving that door closed instead of letting out the cold.”

“Is that so?” she snarls, ignoring my words and diving back into the fridge.

“You need a new generator. Won’t be the last time you’ll lose power up here, and that old thing in the shed hasn’t worked properly in years.” I lean my hip against the counter and fold my arms over my chest, perhaps unconsciously bracing for the fireworks heading my way.

“You’re just full of wisdom, aren’t you?” With a slam, she closes the fridge door and steps right up to me, her finger poking my chest. “Lecturing me on my stupidity, when all I tried to do was help my guests retrieve their belongings so they could be on their way. And now, when all I’m doing is trying to throw some sandwiches together so I can feed us.” She turns to the food she piled on the counter and I feel a niggle of doubt enter my self-righteous mind.

“I have food and power at the lodge,” I offer. “Just grab an overnight bag and we’ll head out.”

“Not likely,” she snorts, her back still turned to me as she starts slathering mustard on some slices of bread. “I’ll just stay here.”

“They’re expecting more cells to pass through tonight and you have a hole in your roof,” I plead my case. “Come on. We’ll hop in my truck, and I’ll bring you back here tomorrow before the hydro crew gets here.”

“Your truck?”

Shit.

“Right. Yours then. I have a tree down blocking my road and I came in the boat,” I explain. “Matt can help me clear the tree on my property so we can get through.” It’s then I notice her hand frozen in midair, mustard dripping from the knife she is clenching.

“You came by boat?” The knife clatters to the stainless steel counter as she whirls around. “You are lecturing me about reckless behaviour, and you took a boat out on the lake in the middle of the mother of all storms?” Her voice has steadily risen to a near screech, and I unfold my arms, resisting the urge to slap my hands over my ears.

“That’s different,” I protest without much conviction.

“Really? Different? How? You are somehow immune to the forces of nature? Your sheer masculinity makes you untouchable? Give me a fucking break!”

With a frustrated growl, she turns back to the food, viciously slapping cold cuts and cheese on the bread. I stand there, watching her without a damn thing to say, when Matt marches in and snatches a sandwich off the counter.

“Awesome—food.”