CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
KELSEY
I WALKED THROUGH MY MOTHER’S EMPTY house and stopped at the windows overlooking the back garden. Weeds had begun to encroach on the flower beds. I ran my hand over the dusty windowsill. I’d given all the furniture to a charity organization, and offered most of my mother’s belongings to her friends.
A single cardboard box sat by the front door, filled with the things I’d wanted to keep—family pictures, albums, an icon my mother had brought with her from Russia, my father’s old pipe, a few shawls, lacquer boxes, and pysanky that my mother had painted.
I neither needed nor wanted anything else. I folded the flaps of the box and carried it out to my car. I left the house key in a lockbox for the real-estate agent and headed back to Mirror Lake.
Everything was finished now. All I had to do was put myself back onto the narrow path I’d created so long ago.
When I got home, I left the box in the living room and went to my basement craft room. I took a box of eggs from the shelf along with a container of dye and pysanky supplies. Nestled among the eggs were the two eggs Archer and I had worked on.
I picked up his egg and took off my glasses to study the design. He’d used dark red and black with a pattern of gold. I looked at the uneven colors, the rough lines, the smudged paint where the wax had smeared. The pattern was bold, brilliant, and imperfect. Like him.
My hand trembled. I closed my fingers tightly around the egg. The shell popped and cracked in my palm. My heart crashed. I tightened my fingers, crushing the delicate shell into a broken, irreparable mess. I opened my hand and let the shell fall into the trash can.
Then I grabbed the egg I’d painted and did the same thing. Crushed the shell in my palm, ground it to bits, and threw the detritus away. My pulse raced. A strange feeling of satisfaction and relief filled me—not unlike the wicked pleasure of getting away with something risky.
I put another egg on the table and slammed my fist against it. I swept the broken eggshell into the trash and picked up another one, breaking it in my palm before throwing it away. Bits of shell covered the table. Another one. Another. I would break them all.
“Kelsey?”
I stopped. Liv’s voice penetrated my fogged mind. I grabbed my glasses and put them on as I climbed the stairs. Liv was in the entryway, holding a paper bag.
“Sorry for barging in, but I saw your car outside and your front door was unlocked,” she said. “I got a little worried when you didn’t answer your cell.” She looked at me and frowned. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, pressing my hands to my flushed face. My heart was still hammering. I wanted to break something else.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
She gestured to the bag. “I brought you dinner from the café. Ham and cheese quiche, salad, and cupcakes. I figured you’d be tired from your trip. Dean is on his way over from campus.”
Shit. I didn’t want Dean to notice how much I was hurting. How much I dreaded trying to put my life back together when my heart felt like a broken eggshell.
I took the bag from Liv and turned to go into the kitchen. I put the food in the refrigerator, hoping she wouldn’t wait for me to ask the question.
She didn’t.
“Archer left a couple of days ago,” she said. “Have you heard from him?”
I shook my head. Liv watched me with perception.
“You fell in love with him, didn’t you?” she asked.
I nodded, though the phrase fell in love sounded much too simplistic to describe everything I felt for Archer.
I hadn’t just fallen in love with him. I’d fallen in need, in lust, in hope, in dream with him. I’d fallen crazily, head-spinningly, recklessly into him.
I loved his determination, his energy, his humor, his scars, and his desire for control. I loved the way he’d known from the beginning exactly what I needed. I loved that he was the only person in the world who could give it to me.
Liv started to speak again when the doorbell rang. I went to answer it, my heart stuttering at the sight of a big, male silhouette behind the beveled glass even though I knew it was only Dean.
I pulled open the door.
“You okay?” He looked wary.
“Yes.” I moved aside to let him in. “Don’t worry. I’m not moping or crying or having a fit of the vapors.”
“That wasn’t what I was worried about,” he said.
“I know.”
I had a brief flashback of Dean and me fifteen years ago. I’d been a reckless girl hell-bent on punishing myself, and Dean had been… a younger version of the man he was now.
A smile tugged at my mouth. I gave his hand a quick squeeze. “Come in. Liv’s in the kitchen.”
Some of the tension eased as Liv and Dean had a brief discussion of the rest of the day’s plans and the process of moving into the Butterfly House.
“What’s that?” Liv indicated a package tucked under Dean’s arm.
“I came to drop it off.” He held a thick envelope out to me. “Archer asked me to give it to you.”
The second my fingers closed around the envelope, I knew what was inside. My stomach twisted. I put the envelope on the counter.
“So, uh, how did everything end with you two?” I asked Dean.
“As well as it could,” he said. “And none of it had anything to do with you. Archer and I have issues that go back thirty years. For now, we’ve figured them out the best way we can.”
Beside him, Liv nodded at me. Relief eased some of my despair.
“Hey, you want to go for a run this afternoon?” Dean asked. “Maybe down by the lake. It’s a nice day to be outside.”
Good. Yes. Back to normal.
“Okay,” I agreed.
Liv tugged at Dean’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”
He didn’t move for a second, his gaze on me.
“What?” I asked.
“I don’t really get all this romantic stuff,” he said.
I glanced at Liv. She rolled her eyes as if to say, “Sure he doesn’t.” I almost smiled.
“And I guess I never knew Archer that well,” Dean continued. “But for what it’s worth, he does really seem to care about you.”
My heart clenched. “I know he does. It could just never work.”
Dean scratched his head, as if my statement made no sense. Liv tugged on his sleeve again.
“Come on, professor. Kelsey needs to be alone.”
“Okay.” Dean looked at me again. “You know where we are.”
“Yes. Thanks.”
The pain in my heart eased a little as I watched them leave. I loved the crap out of those two.
After they were gone, I picked up the envelope and went to sit on the sofa. My hands trembled as I opened it and pulled out Archer’s worn notebook. I turned to the first page.
In blue ink, he’d drawn a number of square panels containing intricate drawings and speech balloons. I leafed through the pages, all of which were full of the same thing.
A comic book. All this time, he’d been working on a comic book.
I looked at the title, the sharp-edged illustration of storm clouds and lightning bolts containing the word Blue.
In the center of a starburst was a woman clad in a skintight, blue uniform with a lightning bolt emblazoned across her chest. She had both hands extended, and two tornados twisted upward from her outstretched palms. Her shoulder-length blonde hair, embellished with a single streak of blue, was a windblown tousle around her head.
“Sonuvabitch,” I whispered.
I curled up on the sofa and started to read the story of the superhero Blue, a woman who got her energy from the weather and used storms and tornados to protect the earth from a cadre of villains out to overtake and destroy it. Blue was strong, fierce, determined, and volatile. She could kick ass because of her martial arts training or with her use of weather.
She was also involved in a rather intense relationship with Stone Hunter, a Harley-riding inventor who wanted to harness her powers for energy use.
Blue, however, did not want to be harnessed. Except for when she did, a change of heart that often happened when Stone was involved.
He was hot, too, Stone Hunter. Big and muscular with dark hair and a devilish grin.
I’d half expected to be crying by the time I finished the book and read about Blue and Stone’s victory over the evil Legion League. But instead I was a weird combination of exhilarated and worn out, almost as if I’d fought the battle myself.
I pulled up the sleeve of my T-shirt and looked at the Storm Girl tattoo that was now a permanent part of me. I’d fought the battle, all right. With Archer, with the Meteorology department, with the Spiral Project, with myself.
Unlike Blue, however, I had lost.
You are so smart, Kseniya. So strong. But you are so afraid to be happy.
Nothing ever changes if you don’t take risks.
I don’t want you to get hurt.
You’re the first real risk I’ve taken in a very long time.
You can do anything, Kseniya. Anything.
Come on, storm girl. Show me how not scared you really are.
I pushed to my feet. I wasn’t a self-pitying, pathetic waif. I’d learned the hard way how to get shit done. And I’d been surrounded by heroes.
My parents had braved an uncertain new life as immigrants and shown me exactly what strength and tenacity were. My mother had been the epitome of courage. Liv had pulled herself out of a shitty childhood when she was thirteen years old. Archer had beaten drug addiction and the stigma of his paternity. He had survived his rough, heartbreaking past. Dean had fought for everything he wanted and everyone he loved.
And so, goddammit, would I.
Instead of destroying painted eggs in my basement, I was going to do what people around me had proven could be done.
I was going to change the direction of the storm.
I was so nervous I was shaking. Fortunately, I’d had years of practice looking cool and professional even if I felt like I was about to throw up. Or worse.
I finished passing thick binders around the boardroom table at the Edison Power corporate office. I took a drink of water and tried to steady my nerves. I couldn’t help thinking of the night I’d first met Archer, when I hadn’t wanted to be Professor March.
But he’d wanted me. As a mysterious stranger in a bar. As Kelsey. As Professor March. As a woman, a risk-taking girl, a storm chaser, a scientist, an artist, even a loner. He’d wanted me whether I was cranky, happy, riddled with grief, tired, sharp, frumpy, irritated, angry, sexy, or exhilarated. Archer had accepted and loved everything I was.
A man who chases you because he is not afraid of the storm inside you. Who loves that part of you.
The thought calmed me like nothing else could.
Conversation hummed through the room. Stan Baxter sat at the table along with three Edison Power executives, David Peterson of the Explorer Channel, Chancellor Radcliffe, and two members of the King’s board of trustees.
Harold Clement of Edison Power was seated near the head of the table, wearing a tie patterned with electrical outlets and plugs. In an unspoken solidarity, I wore a pinstriped suit and a silk shirt embellished with embroidered lightning bolts.
“Nice tie,” I told Harold as I sat beside him.
He smiled. “Nice shirt. Good luck.”
I nodded. Though he was on my side, we both knew this was my show. All we needed to do was convince the King’s board of trustees and the Edison Power board of directors that our plan was a good one. And ask them for their money and approval.
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming today.” I stood up to address the meeting attendees. “I have a proposal for you. You all know about the Spiral Project. You all know about the Explorer Channel’s interest in creating a documentary program. And you all know that I’ve struggled for three years with funding for the project.”
My little speech was met with silence.
Don’t be scared, storm girl.
Archer’s deep voice echoed in my head. I took a breath and kept going.
“The Edison Power board of trustees has declined to fund the project on the grounds that it doesn’t allow for enough community outreach,” I said. “But Mr. Clement and I have been corresponding for the past week, and we’ve come up with a viable solution for all parties. First, I’d like to let Mr. Peterson tell you about the Explorer Channel’s interest in the Spiral Project.”
I stepped aside. David Peterson came forward to explain the Explorer Channel’s plan to film several episodes of a documentary reality show. He then showed a five-minute video of a storm chase that we’d put together with my grad students. Tess had gotten video of a rotating wall cloud, and, for entertainment reasons, we’d included a few seconds of a van almost skidding off the road during a hailstorm.
“We believe Edison Power would be an excellent partner for both the Explorer Channel and the Spiral Project,” I said. “However, as I explained, my contractual duties to King’s University and my recent tenureship make it almost impossible for me to direct the project from the field, much less participate in a television program.”
“And that,” Harold said, rising to stand beside me, “is where Edison Power comes in. If the Spiral Project and Professor March are the focus of an educational and entertaining program that would appeal to viewers of all ages, I would ask the Edison board to strongly consider funding such a venture.”
“Why on earth would you do that?” Stan asked.
“By aligning ourselves with weather forecasting and entertainment, we can rebrand Edison Power as a company dedicated to the community. We can sponsor educational science programs related to the show, and help people understand the importance of early storm predictions and responses. Frankly, it would also just be good for our public image.”
“With this proposal, Edison Power would be at the forefront of merging weather prediction and utilities management,” I added. “King’s University, the Explorer Channel, and Edison Power… all working together for a better tomorrow.”
Harold coughed. A hum of conversation started.
“Too corny?” I asked Harold under my breath.
“Yeah, but it’s okay. You can make power with corn. Alcohol, anyway.”
I suppressed a laugh.
“Professor March, you’re neglecting a major issue,” Chancellor Radcliffe said, eyeing me narrowly. “You have contractual duties to King’s. You really think the administration will let you run off to do a reality show?”
“I think King’s University wants to remain one of the top-rated private universities in the country,” I said, glad my voice was still steady despite my racing heart. “We all know the Meteorology department is easily among the best. However, in recent years due to budget cuts, our lab equipment has become significantly outdated, and our department has suffered. In order to stay on the cutting edge of meteorological research, we need the most advanced forecast and modeling technology available.”
“That’s where Edison Power comes in,” Harold said. “Professor March and I have come to a compromise that will benefit us all.”
I cleared my throat. Here we go.
“If Edison Power is willing to supply the funds to modernize the Meteorology department’s synoptic lab, including the extra equipment needed for the Spiral Project’s home base,” I said, “then King’s University will allow me to join the Spiral Project’s field team for the five months of the tornado season. The Explorer Channel is welcome to join us to film. Of course, I will participate fully.”
Dead silence fell over the room. The executives, professors, and trustees exchanged glances. Harold shuffled his feet. My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest.
“Supply the funds to modernize the synoptic lab,” one of the Edison executives repeated slowly, as if he hadn’t heard that correctly.
“Yes.” I nodded, as if such a request were made every day. “Our department needs more terminals, high-resolution monitors and projectors, and two state-of-the-art supercomputers for our data assimilation studies. We also hope to have enough equipment to establish a second lab. All the details and projected costs are in the information binders.”
The executives opened the binders. Frowns, mutters, and shuffling ensued. I couldn’t look at Harold. My palms were sweating.
One of the Edison guys frowned at me. “This is a tall request, Professor March.”
“I’m aware of that. However, if Edison Power agreed to initially fund only the second phase of the Spiral Project in addition to providing us with the upgraded lab, your financial commitment and risk would be lessened. And if the second phase is successful, which I have no reason to doubt that it will be, we can renegotiate the contract and hopefully extend it into phase three.”
Silence again.
“That still doesn’t solve the problem of your contractual duties to King’s, Professor March,” Chancellor Radcliffe said.
“I have no intention of reneging on any of my duties.” I picked up another stack of papers and passed them around the table. “I’ve written a new proposal explaining the value of fieldwork and ways to incorporate teaching and investigations for the benefit of my students. I would just take my teaching out of the classroom for a few months a year, mostly during the summer.
“Students could apply for internships and grants, sponsored by Edison Power, to participate in the Spiral Project. I guarantee you, Chancellor Radcliffe, that we’ll have a huge influx of application and students once word spreads about the program.”
“And your contract?” Radcliffe asked.
“My hope is that the board of trustees will approve certain amendments to allow me to direct the Spiral Project from the field.”
I looked at Stan, adding, “If they do and Edison Power agrees, the Meteorology department will have a much bigger and fully upgraded synoptic lab.”
Conversation rose again, papers shuffling. I met Stan’s gaze. His eyebrows rose, as if he were impressed. As well he should be, I thought. I’d be a hero in the Meteorology department, if I could pull this off.
“Edison funds the Spiral Project and the lab, and becomes the primary sponsor of the Explorer Channel program,” I said. “And in return, King’s agrees to let me direct from the field during tornado season and participate in the filming.”
“It’s an interesting proposition, Professor March,” Chancellor Radcliffe admitted. “Unorthodox, but interesting.”
“And both expensive and risky,” added one of the Edison executives.
“No risk, no reward,” Harold remarked.
“I’m sure you’d like to discuss this amongst yourselves,” I said, gathering up my notes. “Thank you again for the opportunity to present the proposal to you.”
I left the room and went toward the elevators.
“Now we wait.” Harold Clement fell into step beside me, looking as relieved as I was to be out of that room. “It could take quite a—”
“Professor March?”
We turned to where Chancellor Radcliffe and Stan stood at the boardroom door. Radcliffe stepped aside and held the door open.
“Would you please come back in?” he asked. “We’d like to discuss this in more detail.”
Harold and I exchanged glances. We returned to the boardroom. As I passed Stan, he reached out to stop me. He shook his head with both disbelief and admiration.
“Excellent work rocking the boat, Kelsey,” he said. “I think you just got everything you wanted.”
A wave of relief and exhilaration flooded me so fast that I grabbed the doorjamb to steady myself. I took a breath and closed my eyes.
Not everything I wanted, I thought. Not yet.