CHAPTER TEN

April"s arms were laden with bags and blankets as she weaved through the tightly packed crowd, Jackson a steady presence at her side. The sky had turned a bruised shade of grey, the wind whipping hair and loose clothing into frenzied tendrils as guests scrambled to retrieve their belongings from their cars. The air was filled with the urgency that preceded a storm, the kind of urgency that made the heart beat faster and hands move swiftly.

The front doors of the bed and breakfast swung open and shut like the place itself was breathing heavily, trying to suck in all its inhabitants before the tempest could claim them. A suitcase tumbled down the steps, its owner chasing after it with arms flailing. April stepped aside, narrowly avoiding a collision with Uncle Eamon, whose arms juggled a stack of board games.

Ahead, the birdwatching group stood huddled by their cars, binoculars dangling from their necks and field guides clutched in anxious grips. April approached, her own anxiety for their safety pushing through the chaos around her. She noticed their creased brows and fidgeting hands, traits that spoke louder than words about their trepidation toward the encroaching storm.

"Inside, please," she gestured with a nod, her eyes meeting theirs with a silent plea. Their nods came in return, affirming a shared understanding. They bundled up their gear, moving as one towards the safety of the inn, their appreciation hanging in the air, unspoken yet palpable.

With the birdwatchers accounted for, April glanced back at the scene unfolding around her. Jackson, his dark hair tousled by the wind, directed the birdwatching couple towards the entrance, his calm demeanor a beacon amidst the disarray. She felt a surge of gratitude for him, for his soothing energy that often grounded her when stress threatened to sweep her away. Together, they would get through this storm—both the one howling outside and any that might brew within the walls of their temporary refuge.

April"s thanks trailed off as her attention was snatched by a discordant note in the corner—a taut exchange between Chloe and Jackson. The air around them crackled with tension, contrasting sharply with the atmosphere of concerned cooperation elsewhere in the room. Her steps were swift and purposeful as she navigated through the disheveled sea of guests, drawn to the disturbance.

"Is everything okay here?" April"s voice sliced through the thickening air, her eyes darting from one sibling to the other, seeking to understand without prying words apart.

Chloe"s posture stiffened, a silent testament to her resolve, while her gaze flickered with irritation. "Jackson thinks I should clear the air with Julia. But why should I be the one to go first? I didn't do anything wrong by being busy. I did my part and sent my condolences. I even sent her meals from a service."

Jackson"s response was not verbal but physical—a simple shrug that spoke volumes. It conveyed his resignation, an admission that his attempt at familial peacekeeping might have been ill-timed considering the looming storm. He leaned closer to April, his voice a low whisper meant only for her.

"Thought it would help if they sorted things out before we"re all cooped up," he confessed, the softness of his words undercutting the sharpness of the situation.

April offered a smile, her hand reaching up to pat his back gently. It was a gesture laden with appreciation for his intentions, if not for their outcome. His efforts to maintain harmony did not go unnoticed, even as they fell short. With a reassuring squeeze, she released him back into the fray of guests and luggage, watching as he melded into the throng, his presence a calming force once more.

April studied Chloe"s face, a roadmap of inner conflict and pride. She reached out, her fingers touching the crease between Chloe"s furrowed brows as if to smooth away the tension that had entrenched itself there.

"Sometimes," April began, her voice even and soft, "it"s the one who bridges the gap first that starts the healing. It"s not about conceding, it"s about caring."

Chloe"s lips pressed into a thin line, her arms crossing defensively over her chest. The idea of opening a dialogue with Julia seemed to strengthen Chloe's resolve not to compromise.

Before April could offer another word of encouragement, a blur of movement caught her off guard. Grant and Leo, youthful energy personified, collided with her legs in a tangle of limbs and apologies. Their wide, innocent eyes lifted to meet hers, brimming with concern that was comically disproportionate to their small statures.

"Sorry!" they chimed, nearly in unison.

With a steadying breath and a chuckle that bubbled up from within, April reassured them, "It"s okay, boys." The chaos of the moment softened in their earnest gaze.

"Is the storm gonna take our car away?" Leo"s voice trembled with a blend of excitement and fear, his imagination clearly painting wild scenarios.

"Hopefully not," April murmured, ruffling his hair affectionately. "I think this storm has enough manners to leave our cars alone."

Calmed by her words, the boys darted off once more, their laughter trailing behind them like the promise of sunshine after rain.

April leaned against the wooden banister, her gaze tracking the frenetic energy that filled the bed and breakfast. Guests shuffled past one another in a chaotic ballet of luggage and hastily grabbed belongings, their movements punctuated by the occasional muffled curse or sigh of exasperation. Outside, the wind howled, a prelude to the storm"s crescendo, the windows shuddering in response.

From her vantage point, she caught sight of Jackson amidst the disarray, his attempts to direct the human traffic as futile as corralling dust in a whirlwind. His dark hair fell across his forehead, and he pushed it back with a sun-browned hand, his calming presence not enough to stem the tide of anxious guests.

Moving through the tumult, April approached him, her presence a lighthouse in the storm of bodies. "Jackson," she called out, her voice almost lost in the din. He turned, his face a canvas of strained patience.

"Can you grab the survival kits from the storage? We need to start handing out flashlights and water bottles." Her words were a lifeline thrown into the chaos.

With a nod that carried the weight of shared responsibility, Jackson disappeared toward the storage room, his stride purposeful. Alone now, April let out a breath she hadn"t realized she was holding. The walls of the quaint establishment seemed to tighten around her, the air thick with impending claustrophobia. She could almost taste the tang of unease that clung to the guests like a second skin.

The thought of all the tension compressed within these walls sent a shiver down her spine—one not entirely attributable to the draft slipping through the cracks. They were on the precipice of something far more daunting than the tempest brewing outside.