CHAPTER NINETEEN

The storm outside churned relentlessly as the house seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief. For a moment, the guests scattered, finding solace in the brief reprieve from huddling together against nature"s wrath. April watched as the figures around her stretched their limbs and exchanged weary smiles. That"s when she felt the familiar touch on her shoulder, Caroline"s fingers light but insistent.

"Let"s run into the kitchen and make dinner," Caroline murmured, her gaze already climbing the grand staircase that led to the more vulnerable parts of the bed and breakfast.

"Sure," April replied, though an eyebrow arched in silent question at the request, her mother"s penchant for avoiding such tasks a well-documented trait.

They walked back to the kitchen together, the old wooden floors creaking underfoot. Beside the counters, the wind howled against the kitchen window, a ghostly reminder of the chaos just beyond the walls. April gathered the pots and pans needed to make a simple pasta dish.

Caroline worked beside her to cut up broccoli and chicken. It took almost no time at all to prep and they spoke no more than ten words to each other as they prepared the chicken alfredo.

April could feel the weight of Caroline"s presence, a silent force in the dim light that hung above them. She wondered if this unusual display of teamwork was merely a precautionary measure or if it masked a deeper intent. Her mother's face remained unreadable, focused on the task, yet April sensed an unspoken dialogue hanging in the air, waiting to be acknowledged.

With the pasta now boiling, the silence grew heavier, laden with words not yet formed. April"s hands moved automatically, stirring and then draining when the pasta was finished, her mind adrift in the stillness that enveloped them. Was Caroline here out of genuine concern for the guests and their hunger, or was there a conversation looming on the horizon, one that required the isolation of a storm-ridden kitchen?

Her mother didn"t normally do things just to get them done. There was always a side mission, something else she needed to ask, something she wanted to know. It was always some excuse to get you to walk away, and then she"d tell you what she really called you over here for.

April glanced sideways, catching a glimpse of Caroline"s profile etched against the light, searching for a clue. But all she found was the steady rhythm of her mother"s movements, the determination in her grip, and the faintest furrow of concentration on her brow as she flipped the chicken in the pan. Whatever the reason for this impromptu partnership, it lay buried beneath the roar of the wind and the sturdy resolve of a mother and daughter bracing against the storm.

The final ingredients came together as they threw it all in the pot with the jar of premade alfredo sauce. Caroline"s hands stilled, and she turned her gaze towards April, the question in her eyes cutting through the howl of the wind. "How are you holding up with the wedding plans?" Her voice was surprisingly gentle, a softness that rarely graced her words. "With the idea of getting married tomorrow?"

April paused. She had been right—this wasn"t just about dinner. A sense of unease unfurled within her as she met her mother"s expectant look. "I want to get married," she started, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest, "but this isn"t how I pictured my wedding weekend."

"Of course, it"s not," Caroline said with a dismissive wave of her hand, almost as if she had foreseen this discordant symphony of nature. "It never does go exactly as expected."

Surprise flickered across April"s face at the resignation lacing her mother"s words. This was an unexplored territory between them, one where the veneer of incessant complaints gave way to an acceptance of life"s crazy twists. It hung in the air, an invisible thread connecting their shared understanding—a silent acknowledgment that chaos was as much a part of matrimony as it was of life itself.

April"s fingers danced along the countertop, as Caroline began to dish out the food into separate bowls. She straightened her back, the muscles tensing and relaxing in a rhythm that matched the violent drumming of rain against the house. Her eyes wandered over the room, taking in the shadows that played tricks on the walls, the way the light flickered every once in a while—unsteady, but persistent.

In that moment of solitary reflection, April"s mind drifted to Caroline's uncharacteristic poise amidst chaos. Her mother, a constant beacon of critique, seemed to harbor an inner compass that navigated through life"s storms with a resilience that belied her outward demeanor.

It had always been there, that quiet strength; like when the divorce papers turned their family portrait into a memory, and Caroline simply squared her shoulders and announced, "We"ll manage without him."

That stark proclamation had echoed throughout April"s childhood, shaping her into a fortress of anticipation for the next upheaval. Always braced, always waiting for the floor to give out beneath her feet. It was Caroline's way—preparation for the worst as if disappointment were an inevitable guest at the table of their lives.

Now, amid the tempest raging beyond the walls of her childhood vacation home, April recognized the thread woven into her own fabric—the same readiness to confront upheaval, yet also the desire to find calm within it. Caroline had never expressly taught her to expect disaster, but rather to acknowledge its possibility and stand firm regardless. Nothing ever goes exactly as you want it to. The words lingered in April"s mind, a mantra that both haunted and steadied her.

The storm outside mirrored the one within, and as April moved to organize the bowls. It was here, in the heart of uncertainty, that she found a strange kinship with her mother. The anxiety that had once felt like a shackle now revealed itself as a shared heritage of resilience. Maybe, just maybe, she could glean wisdom from Caroline"s unspoken lessons and navigate her own impending union with the grace of one who knows the unpredictable dance of life all too well.

April began to place the bowls around her arms as she tried to carry as many as she could. Outside, the wind howled like a chorus of restless spirits seeking entry into the refuge of the old house. The storm had intensified, a relentless adversary to the fragile barrier between chaos and calm.

Caroline grabbed her own stack of dinner filled bowls and followed April out to the dining room. There, they set up the dinner and called everyone over to grab their bowls, just as they would do for every meal until the storm finished. Caroline stood by the window, her silhouette outlined by the sporadic lightning—a statuesque figure of enduring strength.

April grabbed herself and her mother a bowl, then joined her at the windowsill.

"Family," Caroline began, her voice a low thrum against the backdrop of the storm, "is the anchor in times like these." She gestured vaguely to the world outside, her hand pressing firmly on the wooden frame of the window.

April watched her mother, the matriarchal presence that had both chastised and fortified her throughout her life. Caroline was the unwavering pillar amidst the ever-shifting sands of circumstance—a beacon, albeit shrouded in layers of critique and caution.

"Marriage, too, is an anchor," Caroline continued, capturing April"s attention with the deliberateness of her words. "But it"s also a sail. You need both to navigate life"s unpredictable waters."

April considered this, absorbing the metaphor while taking her first bite of dinner. It was basic, but it was something that would feed them all, something no one could complain about.

She looked to her mother now, who still hadn't taken her first bite. The resonance of family, of shared burdens and triumphs, had always been Caroline"s doctrine. And now, marriage—a new covenant beckoning April to merge her journey with Jackson"s.

"Working together, that"s the key," Caroline said, her gaze now fixed on the horizon beyond the window, where sea met sky in an indistinguishable gray expanse. "Being able to take care of it all is what makes it work. But together, you have to be able to sail the boat. It's a lot of responsibility."

April moved closer, her fingers brushing against the wood grain that held generations of whispered secrets and silent understandings. She had indeed learned from others with far more grace than Caroline ever managed, yet the gravity of shared responsibility in marriage was not lost on her. Jackson, with his calming presence and sun-kissed resilience, had become the cornerstone of her newfound happiness.

"Jackson is wonderful. He's..." April"s thoughts trailed off, the name itself a promise of serenity amidst her internal squall. The idea of working side by side, tilling the soil of their combined futures, seemed less daunting and more a privilege—an opportunity to grow roots deeper than either could alone.

As the storm raged on, battering against the house that had withstood countless others, April felt a surge of solidarity with Caroline. Their methods might differ, but their core was hewn from the same rock—ready to face the gale, ready to embrace the calm after.

The wind howled, its fury finding every crevice and cranny to whistle through, yet it was Caroline"s words that cut deeper, swirling around April like the tempest outside.

Caroline's hand rested lightly on the window frame, her touch gentle against the wood that groaned in protest. There was something almost wistful in her posture, an uncharacteristic softness as she turned to face April, her eyes holding a lifetime of lessons learned the hard way.

"I like this guy, Jackson," Caroline said, her voice steady against the storm"s crescendo. "But remember, marrying him is your choice, not a requirement."

The room seemed to tilt, the walls pressing in with truths unsaid and paths untaken. April"s heart pounded, syncopated with the rain pummeling the roof, each drop a question, each gust of wind a doubt. She had never considered her love for Jackson as anything but a straight path to marriage, a journey they were destined to walk together.

Yet, in the unexpected sanctuary of the storm, with Caroline"s gaze unwavering, April saw the crossroads before her. Even now, with her wedding dress hanging untouched and the island holding its breath, she could choose solitude over partnership, independence over union.

The thought hung between them, suspended like the charged air before lightning strikes. Could the hurricane be a harbinger, a celestial intervention urging her to pause? To reconsider the road ahead?

But deep down, beyond the reach of fear and uncertainty, a steady flame flickered within April—a warmth that spread through her veins whenever she thought of Jackson. His laughter was a balm, his steadfastness a shield. They had built something beautiful from the ruins of her past, crafting a future with hands and hearts entwined.

"Is it enough?" The question was hers alone, echoing in the chamber of her soul. The answer came as a shiver, a recognition of truth that needed no words—her desire to stand beside Jackson, come what may, was the very essence of what she sought.

It wasn"t that she doubted wanting to marry him. It was that she wondered if that"s what she wanted to do this weekend after all of this trouble. With anger brewing inside of her, she wasn't sure what she wanted anymore.

April had worked so hard on taking care of everyone, making sure no one was fighting. That now, she just felt exhausted. Is this how she wanted to go into a marriage? Feeling drained and confused.

In the silence that followed, punctuated by the creaks and moans of the old house bearing the storm"s wrath, April knew. She would overcome this, not because she had to but because she chose to—with Jackson, with love, with a resolve forged in the crucible of life"s unpredictable gales.