chapter twelve

Rain battered the windows, a relentless onslaught that had turned the world outside into a blurred watercolor of grays and greens. Jackson and April were mere shapes in the vast blurriness as they ushered Alex through the front door of the bed and breakfast. His clothes clung to him like a second skin, every inch of fabric saturated with storm. April"s eyes were wide with concern, her maternal instincts launching into overdrive.

"Someone get a towel!" she called out, her voice laced with urgency. Uncle Eamon appeared, summoned by the call to action, his presence a burst of energy amidst the gloom. He thrust a large bath towel into Alex"s shivering hands, the fabric fluffy and warm against his cold, wet skin.

April searched Alex"s face, her brow furrowed with worry. "What"s going on?" Her voice was firm, demanding an explanation for his unexpected and sodden arrival.

Alex worked the towel through his hair, water droplets scattering to the floor like tiny prisms. "Tried to call," he said, breaths coming out in visible puffs, "but the service..." He trailed off, the frustration apparent in the tight set of his jaw. The storm had apparently turned technology into an unreliable ally.

He looked at April, his gaze earnest and filled with a silent plea for understanding. "This couldn"t wait." The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken fear. He didn"t want to be alone with his thoughts, not with the storm raging outside and turmoil billowing inside him.

April"s hand moved almost unconsciously to rest on Alex"s arm, offering warmth and solace. She leaned forward slightly, her eyes insistent. "What did you have to run over here to tell us? Is Georgia okay?" Her voice was softer now but held a tremor that betrayed her own trepidation. The storm outside mirrored the one beginning to swell within the walls of the cozy home.

She hadn't even thought to ask about if Georgia had landed safely. She simply assumed that her daughter would be here shortly, but seeing Alex here made her mind spin.

Alex"s fingers trembled as they gripped the towel, his knuckles whitening. Rainwater dripped from the hem of his soaked jeans onto the polished wooden floor, where it formed a growing puddle. With every shiver that racked his body, droplets flung from his drenched sleeves.

April watched him, her chest tightening with each quiver that passed through Alex"s frame. The wind howled outside, rattling the windowpanes and lending an ominous backdrop to the unfolding drama within the safety of her home.

He caught her eye, the urgency clear in his gaze. "Georgia"s flight," he started, pausing to gather his breath, the words fighting their way out against the cold that clung to him, "it was canceled because of... because of the storm."

April"s heart skipped. Cancelation meant safety, a respite from worry. Georgia would be safe from the terror of the storm. But Alex continued, the news darkening like the clouds above.

"She"s driving here instead." The sentence hung in the air, fraught with danger and disbelief.

April"s blood ran cold despite the warmth of the kitchen. Her daughter, her Georgia, alone on treacherous roads while nature unleashed its fury? It was unthinkable. Images of wind-lashed highways and torrential downpours flashed through her mind. A mother"s worst fears conjured up by four simple words.

She took a step forward, reaching out as if she could somehow pull her daughter back from this reckless decision. Her heart hammered, echoing the thunder that rolled in the distance.

"Did you talk to her?" The question was a whisper, barely heard over the escalating tempest outside.

Alex nodded, the motion small and defeated. "It took me about a thousand tries, but I finally got ahold of her and she said she was coming here by car. She couldn't wait any longer."

"What does that mean?" April asked, worry straining her voice.

"It means she"s on her way here now, she took her car. I told her not to. Practically begged her, but she was already on her way. She"d made up her mind, and she wasn"t going to change it. She didn"t want to miss the wedding."

It was April"s own stubbornness mirrored in her daughter, a trait that now twisted April"s stomach into knots.

April shook her head, clearing all of the panicked thoughts away in an attempt to make it more clear. "Alex, are you okay?"

Her daughter's boyfriend shivered slightly. "Yeah, I'm alright. Sorry to come by during all this. I just wanted you to know. I thought maybe you could talk some sense into her. I tried to call you, but I couldn't get through. It was even worse than trying to call Georgia. I guess it's getting really bad out there."

April was distraught with worry. With every plea the poor boy must have made, Georgia pushed back harder, sure of her ability to navigate the storm. His words were lost on the determined young woman.

The conversation replayed in Alex"s head, the frustration, the helplessness. And April saw it all, not in his words, but in the crease of his brow and the helpless way his hands had stopped moving, the towel hanging limply between them.

The storm outside raged on, unforgiving and wild, a reflection of the turmoil within as April grappled with the knowledge that her daughter was out there, somewhere, chasing the calm before the storm.

Rain lashed against the windows as April watched Alex"s frame shiver, his wet clothes clinging to him like a second skin. She could see the faint blue tinge to his lips, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he tried to warm himself. It was an image that stoked the fire of her worry for Georgia, but right now, she had to ensure Alex was taken care of.

"Jackson," April said, with a glance toward her fiancé, whose presence felt like a pillar in the midst of chaos. "Would you mind?"

Without hesitation, Jackson stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Alex"s shoulder, guiding him away with a reassuring nod. The offer to lend his clothes seemed unspoken between them, understood in the exchange of concerned looks. Jackson would take care of Alex, provide warmth and sustenance - things April wished she could give her own flesh and blood who was out there battling the storm.

Once they were gone, April turned away from the comfort of the room, her hands fumbling for her phone with an urgency that bordered on desperation. She pressed the device to her ear, listening to the endless ringing that led to voicemail every time. Each attempt was a wave crashing against a relentless shore – ceaseless and without any promise of getting through.

"Georgia, please answer," she whispered against the mouthpiece, even though she knew it was futile. Her thumb hovered over the keypad, ready to dial again, hope waning with each passing second. The screen of her phone reflected a face etched with concern, eyes mapping every crack in the signal.

She stepped closer to the window, peering into the tempest, as if by will alone she could part the veil of rain and wind to see her daughter safe. But there was nothing – just the grey expanse of the angry sky and the knowledge that somewhere in its midst, Georgia was pushing forward, determined, her stubbornness a trait inherited and now feared.

April pocketed the phone, a silent concession to the storm"s victory over technology, over communication. There were no words to convey the depth of her worry, no way to wrap her daughter in caution and care from this distance. It was a disaster, indeed, one that left her feeling more helpless than the law had ever done.

As the wind howled, mocking her efforts, April stood still, a sentinel in her own home, waiting and watching for any sign that might bring solace.

The clatter of cutlery on porcelain anchored April back to the present, away from her fears and the relentless storm outside. Jackson"s firm hands guided her to a chair at the kitchen table, his brow furrowed with concern, mirroring hers. He placed a plate in front of her, the scrambled eggs and toast creating an aroma that normally would have coaxed an appetite from within. Today, it went unnoticed.

"Please, hun, you need to eat," Jackson pleaded with her. "You're no good to Georgia when you're not thinking clearly. Finish breakfast and then we'll talk."

April traced the grain in the wooden table with her fingertip, lost in thought. Her mind was out there, navigating the slick roads with Georgia, willing her to slow down, to be safe. She barely noticed the steam rising from the mug of coffee Jackson set beside her plate. His presence felt like a warm blanket, yet couldn"t stave off the chill of worry gnawing at her insides.

With measured movements, Jackson sat across from her, their breakfasts becoming a tableau of normalcy amidst the chaos of their emotions. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, and his dark eyes searched her face for signs of what to do next. But he knew as well as she did — they were powerless against nature"s fury, and against Georgia"s resolve.

"Alex should stay," April stated, glancing towards the hallway where Jackson had led their soaked visitor earlier. The simple decision brought a minute sense of control, a single action she could take while her world seemed to unravel thread by thread.

Jackson nodded, pushing his own uneaten food around his plate, his rugged face etched with lines of helplessness. They shared a silence that spoke volumes, a mutual understanding that some things, like the raging storm outside and the fierce independence of the woman they both loved, simply could not be tamed.

April lifted her fork, the metal cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of the scrambled eggs piled on it. She brought it to her lips, tasting more of the concern that had lodged itself in her throat than the herbs she"d sprinkled into the pan earlier that morning. The food was merely a prop, a stand-in for the stability they both craved as the storm raged outside.

Jackson"s gaze lingered on her, his steady, calming presence a silent anchor in the tumultuous sea of her thoughts. He didn"t need to speak; his eyes conveyed an understanding that reached beyond words, a shared hope that Georgia would navigate her way safely through the sheets of rain and the howling wind.

With each bite she took, April"s movements were deliberate, an effort to embody some semblance of normality for Jackson"s sake. It was a small thing, eating breakfast when her daughter"s safety hung in the balance, but it was a gesture that spoke volumes, a silent promise that she wouldn"t succumb to panic.

Outside, the branches of the old oak tree swayed violently, a visual echo of the turmoil within. April could almost picture Georgia, headstrong and determined behind the wheel, pushing through the tempest with the same stubbornness she"d inherited from her mother.

The clink of cutlery against porcelain punctuated the silence between them, a Morse code transmitting unspoken fears and shared anxieties. April set the fork down, the half-eaten breakfast a testament to her struggle to maintain composure. In that moment, there was nothing more to do but wait, hope, and trust in the strength of the young woman who was so much like her — relentless in the pursuit of her goals, even in the face of nature"s wrath.