Baby, I’m Yours Page 3

  Her father made a harrumphing noise. “What’s he doing here?”

  “Emory’s home on leave, Dad. He came by earlier, but I told him I’d see him tonight.”

  “Good girl,” her father muttered.

  She started walking toward the front of the store, passing customers. Her dad followed close at her heels.

  “Shelby,” Emory continued, staring at her, his voice booming into the quiet store. “I came home because I have something important to ask you.”

  Her heart quickened. Her skin tingled. Her feet moved faster.

  “Shelby Moon…will you marry me?”

  She gasped and ran to meet him, brimming with happiness. By the time she got to the office, Emory had descended the stairs. He took off his hat, got down on one knee, and held up an open ring box to reveal a sparkling diamond solitaire. Their audience of customers oohed and aahed.

  “Emory,” she breathed. Her heart was jumping in her chest.

  “Right now,” he said, his face earnest. “I want to marry you this minute. We can go to the justice of the peace and have this done.”

  He glanced behind her and to her dismay, Shelby realized he was looking at her father. She turned and saw the way the men were scowling at each other in defiance. And suddenly it dawned on her where her father had been earlier—meeting with Emory.

  “I didn’t give my blessing to this,” her father announced, confirming her suspicions.

  “And I told you I was going to ask her anyway,” Emory said through gritted teeth.

  Shelby felt sick to her stomach. Emory hadn’t proposed to her over the PA system to make a grand gesture—he’d done it in her father’s store out of spite. And she didn’t want to dash down to the justice of the peace to say quickie vows, as if they were trying to get away with something. Not after all this time together. She wanted to walk down the aisle at the Presbyterian church they’d attended since they were children, surrounded by people who had witnessed their lifelong romance.

  She felt caught between the laser glares of the two most important men in her life. This wasn’t the way she’d imagined her marriage proposal. And if Emory didn’t understand that, then he wasn’t the man she thought he was.

  Her tears of happiness turned to ones of grief. Shelby choked back a sob, then looked at the man she’d planned to spend the rest of her life with. “No, Emory, I won’t marry you.”

  Chapter Five

  At Shelby’s words of refusal, Emory went cold with disbelief. He’d joked with Porter about the possibility of her saying no…but deep down, he’d been confident she’d say yes.

  With dawning dread, he realized he’d taken a huge gamble by asking Shelby to marry him in such a public place…and he’d lost. He had no exit plan.

  The faces of the people gathered around mirrored the anguish crushing his chest. Like him, they’d expected a happy ending. The silence was resounding, the disappointment, thick.

  He slowly pushed to his feet and put on his hat. Then he realized he was still holding the refused ring. He’d scrimped and saved for over two years to buy a diamond that represented their big love. Now the sparkling stone mocked his efforts. He closed the box and gripped it in his hand. Then after one last look at the woman he’d planned to spend the rest of his life with, he walked out.

  A stinging wind hit him in the face as he walked to the parking lot, but it felt good. He’d totally blown the most important day of his life, and he felt the need to be punished. He looked up into the raging sky and wished it would rain already, pelt him and wash away this horrible pain.

  By the time he reached his SUV, he knew where he wanted to go. To the place he’d gone so many times when he needed to be alone to think things through.

  To the water tower.

  He drove as far as he could take his four-wheel-drive vehicle, to a spot about halfway up the trail where it narrowed. Then Emory parked, shed his jacket and hat, and climbed the rest of the way on foot. It was a challenging hike, even for someone in army condition, but the exertion felt good. His chest ached from pent-up emotion. He felt so miserable over Shelby’s rejection, he wanted to bellow like some wounded beast.

  Several minutes later, his dress shirt soaked through with sweat, he reached the plateau where the water tower had been erected by the town’s founding fathers. Here the ground was thick with grass and brush, but the path was well-worn, despite signs warning against climbing the tower, at the risk of injury, fines and arrest.

  Emory pressed on and at the bottom of the tower, jumped up to grasp hold of the bottom rung of the metal ladder, then pulled himself up. During the long climb up, the wind buffeted him, but he didn’t care. He was determined to get to the top no matter how much the weather conditions had worsened.

  When he stepped onto the metal platform that surrounded the gigantic tank, the wind was blowing so hard, he had to grip the handrail to stay upright. Since the tower was the highest point in Sweetness, two radio antennae had been erected on the platform, along with a rusty metal box labeled “weather warning sirens.” For now the gigantic pump that refilled the water tank was quiet.

  No matter how many times he’d seen this view of the red clay mountains and the blue-green valley beneath, it still took his breath away. He felt a pang that such a beautiful place was both a blessing and a curse to the people who lived there—the matchless scenery also served as a natural barrier, effectively cutting off the residents from the rest of the world.

  Emory stood in the howling wind, while the love and the resentment he felt for this place warred within him. He’d met the love of his life here, appreciated how this place had molded them both…but now this isolated mountain town wanted to hold on to the woman who meant more than anything else to him.

  She’d said no.

  Rage rose in his chest…at this town, at Shelby’s father, at Shelby…and at himself. He’d made such an ass out of himself, he didn’t blame her for saying no. He’d been so determined to prove to her father that Shelby would choose him over her own blood, he’d ambushed her. It must have broken her heart to have to say no in front of all those people. She was, no doubt, completely humiliated.

  Worse, he’d proved to everyone present that he’d put his own needs before Shelby’s. He’d only given her father more ammunition to oppose their marriage.

  Emory put his head back and unleashed a tortured cry into the swirling wind, then slammed his fist into the giant metal tank. The thick steel was so unyielding, his big hand bounced back, his knuckles bruised and bloody, with only a faint ping. And the momentum threw him off balance.

  His brain processed the life-threatening predicament as the metal platform came up to meet him. He could easily slide off the edge beneath the handrail. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Now Shelby would be burying him instead of marrying him.

  He flailed and landed belly-down on the edge of the platform with an oomph, his face hanging over the edge. But miraculously, his outspread arms and legs kept him from going over. Emory lay there blinking, gasping for air as the sense of gaping emptiness beneath him made his stomach swing and his body seize in panic. The ground was far, far below him.

  That had been close.

  He closed his eyes until his body relaxed, then rolled to his back and slowly pushed to his feet. He flexed his hand, grateful he hadn’t broken any bones, but relishing the physical release. The vibrant pain was a distraction from the emotional ache he didn’t know how to fix.

  He gripped the handrail, feeling spent and pondering his next move. Should he show up at the Moons’ tonight in the hopes that Shelby would agree to see him? Try to intercept her before she left the store? Or just leave her alone?

  That would be the cruelest punishment of all.

  As if to add insult to injury, the sullen sky opened up and rain began to fall in sheets. Emory lifted his face to receive the big drops, and was soon drenched. The wind whipped around him and before long, his visibility had diminished to arm’s length. Still, he stood there, welcoming the
harsh elements.

  Then, as suddenly as the rain had started, it stopped, along with the wind. The absence of air was so abrupt, it was as if someone had pulled a plug on the power source. The calm before the storm? Emory, with water dripping from his hair and nose, scanned the greenish sky for lightning strikes in the distance. Instead, what he saw made his heart stand still.

  A funnel cloud.

  So perfectly formed—the top of it bowl-wide and symmetrical before tapering to a graceful tip—it was almost cartoonish.

  If it hadn’t been so completely, utterly horrifying.

  His mind raced as he tripped back to the ladder on unstable legs. His cell phone didn’t get service here in Sweetness, so he couldn’t raise an alarm.

  Alarm.

  Remembering the box on the front of the tower, he turned and made his way back to it. As he felt along the side for a latch, hail began to fall with such force it felt as if it were being thrown from the sky. The icy balls pelted him and fell to the platform, the size of golf balls. He located a latch on the side of the box, but it was rusted closed. He pulled with all of his strength, but the door didn’t budge. The sharp, jagged edges cut into his palms, further weakening the hand he’d so foolishly slammed into the tank.

  Defeated, Emory stopped to get his breath. The hail was blowing horizontally now, and felt like knives stabbing his bare skin. Shielding his face, he looked over his shoulder and saw the mammoth tornado spinning closer, although it hadn’t yet touched down. The trailing tail hovered horizontally to the ground, grotesquely beautiful in its teasing dance.

  If it touched down, the valley would channel the twister directly into Sweetness.

  Directly to Shelby.

  Emory turned back to the box and leveraged his shoulder under the edge of the door. He rammed it again and again until he felt the door begin to give. With one last rush of adrenaline, he thrust his body against it and heard the grate of metal against metal as it scraped open. Almost weak with relief, Emory shielded his eyes from the hail to scan the contents of the box—two loudspeakers, and a rusty lever. Whatever written directions were posted had been obliterated long ago. That, and the condition of the box itself gave Emory another scary thought—what if the alarm wasn’t operational? He couldn’t remember ever hearing the warning sirens in his lifetime, not even as a test.

  Because everyone knew that tornadoes didn’t occur at this altitude, and in this terrain.

  He put both hands on the lever and prayed.

  Then he pulled.

  Chapter Six

  Shelby sat on a crate of paper towels in the bathroom, wiping her tears and trying to regain her composure. But how could she regroup after the life she’d dreamed about had disintegrated?

  No, it hadn’t disintegrated…she’d thrown it away.

  Emory loved her. He’d proven it a thousand times over. He’d tried to do the right thing by talking to her father before he proposed, and then had reacted out of frustration to her father’s refusal to grant his blessing.

  And she’d made matters worse by letting her stubborn pride get in the way. She wanted Emory to acknowledge that she was giving up something in order to marry him, when in reality she wanted to leave with him, to go somewhere they could start their lives together, just the two of them.

  She was blaming Emory because she was too afraid to confront her father about living her own life.

  Shelby stood and blew her nose. She’d have plenty of time to cry later. For now they were still scrambling to take care of customers in the midst of a power outage.

  When she emerged, her father was standing nearby, pretending to sweep. He looked up and the expression on his face pulled at her heart.

  “You okay?”

  She decided to be honest. “I don’t know. I love him, Daddy.”

  His jaw hardened. “If he loves you, he’ll want what’s best for you.”

  “What is that, Daddy? What’s best for me?”

  He gestured vaguely with one arm. “Not being an army wife, dragged all over the country, living alone if he gets deployed again, taking care of kids by yourself. You need to be close to your family.”

  “Close to the store?” she asked softly.

  “That, too,” he admitted. “This is going to be yours someday.”

  She bit into her lip. “What if I don’t want it?”

  As soon as she saw the stricken look on his face, she wished she could take the words back. But she couldn’t unring a bell.

  “You don’t want my store?” he asked, his voice choked.

  Her heart squeezed painfully. She walked up to him and put her arms around his neck. “Daddy, I love this place, you know I do—I practically grew up here. But my future is with the man I love, with Emory. And he can’t make a living in this town. He has plans to go to college, and I’d like that for myself, too. Don’t you want me to be happy?”

  He looked tortured. “But I can’t protect you if you aren’t nearby.”

  Shelby blinked back tears, then had to laugh. His simple logic was so backwards. “Daddy, Emory will protect me.”

  “So he says,” her father grumbled. “Besides, what does it matter? You already said no.”

  She sighed. “That was a mistake. I think I need to go find him. Can you do without me here for a while?”

  Her father worked his mouth back and forth. She could tell by his hesitation that he was still unconvinced that handing her over to Emory Maxwell was in her best interests.

  Suddenly a loud wailing noise sounded in the distance, the tone swinging high, then low, like the sirens she’d heard in movies signaling a bomb raid. “What’s that?”

  Her father’s brow creased, then his eyes widened. “It’s the tornado siren, from the water tower. I haven’t heard it since I was a boy.”

  “Tornado?” she exclaimed. “On this mountain?”

  “Let’s hope not.” He cupped his hands and yelled, “Everyone, to the basement!” He made a shooing motion to her. “Go, Shelby!”

  “Come with me.”

  “I’m right behind you. Go!”

  But he went in the opposite direction, his head swinging as he looked for customers. He was shouting directions as he went, over the wail of the siren. Shelby was torn, but headed for the basement door and held it open, directing customers to hurry, but to stay calm. “Watch your step…head for the columns…pack in as tightly as you can…watch your step.” She counted as people filed past her, hoping the number would be inconsequential, but aware of the seriousness of the situation. Ten…twenty…thirty…forty…

  They were more crowded than usual because their registers had gone down. She was tormented by the thought that some people might’ve been home safe by now if she’d just closed the store when the power had gone out.

  Then her heart jumped to her throat. Emory. Where was he?

  She maintained a forced smile as customers continued to descend into the basement, some helping others. Mitch stopped and told her to go ahead of him, but Shelby shook her head. “I’m waiting for my father.”

  Apparently he heard the resolve in her voice because he went ahead. When the last customer was inside, Shelby’s heart beat faster. “Daddy?” she shouted. The sirens were still screeching—it was the most terrifying sound she’d ever heard.

  Until she heard the other noise that threatened to drown out the sirens—a horrific roaring noise, like the sound of a locomotive. It was a sound she’d heard described so many times by tornado survivors.

  “Daddy!” she screamed. “Daddy, hurry!” She nearly buckled in relief to see him running around the corner toward her.

  “That’s everyone!” he said. “Go, go!”

  She scrambled down the stairs and he was behind her, then slammed the door. The crowd was sitting huddled together on the floor, circled around beams that held up the ceiling. Mitch passed out flashlights, which illuminated the fear on the faces of every man and woman. Some were openly crying, praying aloud for their loved ones and the safety of
the town.

  Shelby sat down next to her father, who put his arm around her. But she was beside herself with worry about Emory. If she hadn’t been so selfish and unkind, he might be here with them now.

  The roaring noise grew louder and the ceiling began to shake. The twister, it seemed, was upon them. Screams filled the air. The basement lights went out, leaving only the points of flashlights. Overhead, the building groaned, followed by the wrenching, crunching noises of wood splintering and glass breaking. The walls of the basement shook, sending items from shelves crashing to the floor. Shelby couldn’t hear her own heartbeat. She could feel her father’s mouth moving against her forehead, knew he was praying. She’d never been so petrified in her life.

  A terrible creaking noise sounded, then an explosion, and the stairwell filled with debris. Rubble rained down on them. If the beams gave way, they’d be buried alive.

  Shelby wondered if she would die…and thought how terrible it would be to perish before she could tell Emory that she’d made a big mistake. He would never know how much she’d loved him.

  Chapter Seven

  Emory lay near the base of the water tower, facedown in a ditch with his arms over his head. He’d never been so scared in his life. The relief of hearing the aged sirens sound was quickly replaced by his need to get to lower ground. He’d scrambled down the ladder as fast as he could, then dove into a shallow dip in the ground. Hearing the twister coming like a train bearing down was horrific because he didn’t know what would happen next. The ground shook and debris rained down on him. He could hear trees being ripped out of the ground, and waited for one to fall on him.

  All he could think about was his dad and Shelby. Had his father headed home before the storm hit? And if he had, was that safer, or more dangerous? Shelby was probably still at the grocery. Had she had time and the judgment to retreat to the supply basement? He felt utterly helpless, and crazy with worry.

  The Armstrongs had a root cellar. If Porter had seen the funnel cloud or heard the sirens in time, he and his mother had a chance.