LITMIR.BIZ

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banging made her jump. The wind played games with her outdoor furniture. She rushed to the door.

      Garrett gently caught her by the arm. His hard face looked even sterner. “You can’t go out there.” His voice sounded like a growl. “It’s even more dangerous than before. It’s late anyway—you should go to bed.”

      She narrowed her eyes and pulled her arm out of his light grip. With her hands on her hips, she lifted her chin. “I outgrew a bedtime a few years back. What about you?”

      The wind manhandled the hundred-year-old oak trees around her yard. The sound sent chills up her spine. She sucked in a large volume of air as she looked out the window. The force of the storm pelted the hail into the passageway. The rain came in at such a slant, looking as if it could slice through skin.

      With muttered words under his breath, Garrett pushed her farther into the kitchen. “Is there a room without so many windows?”

      “My studio.” Bumper barked and jumped around her feet. “There’s just the garden doors, but I have shutters over them. It’s in there.” She pointed to the door on the other side of her table. “But my animals. What—”

      “They have shelter.” He opened the door, flipped on the light and peered in. “This is good.” He took her hand and pulled her inside the studio space and closed the door.

      Sitting on the wooden bench her grandfather had carved, she patted the empty spot next to her. His big frame took up the rest of the space, long legs stretched out in front of him.

      Total chaos reigned outside. She often thought of the wind as a gentle lullaby at night, but not now. It expressed itself like a two-year-old in a full-blown temper tantrum, a giant two-year-old. It sounded as if trees were being tossed around.

      Bumper buried her head under Anjelica’s arm. Her heart slammed against her sternum. “Dear God, please keep everyone safe.” Thunder rolled, but in the studio they couldn’t see the flashes of lightning. The walls rattled. The lights went out, plunging them into darkness. “Oh no, I left candles in the kitchen.”

      “We’ll be fine. It shouldn’t last long. We’re safer in here in case any furniture or branches get tossed into one of your windows.”

      Another clap of thunder was followed by a loud crash. This time the whole earth shook. An explosion sounded too close. Had something hit the house? Blood rushed to her ears. “What was that? Oh, my babies have to be scared.”

      His long fingers found her hand and took hold. “It’s okay. Good thing about Texas is the storms never last long. So this is your grandparents’ house?” His voice reached out to her, low and soothing.

      She knew he was distracting her and she let him. “My great-grandparents had the property and a small house. My grandparents started this house and added on and updated as the family grew. They wanted to move into town and have a smaller place, so they sold it to Steve and me.”

      As quickly as the wind had started, it was gone, the silence heavy. Anjelica held her breath and waited, but she couldn’t even hear the rain anymore. “Is the storm over?”

      He squeezed her hand. “Stay here while I check the damage.” He stood. He flipped the switch, but the room stayed dark.

      “I’m going with you.”

      He frowned and opened his mouth, then shook his head. “Stay close to me. There could be lines down. We don’t want to rush out and make things worse. Trees and structures could still fall.”

      Bumper squirmed in her arms. “Let me put her in the washroom and get the flashlights.”

      As they exited the back door, she gasped. Her world had been turned upside down. She prayed she’d find everyone safe and sound.

      Garrett’s warmth and solidness comforted her. Looking around, she found most of the rocking chairs and some of her wind chimes were missing. Broken pieces of ceramic projects littered the ground. Frantically scanning for the piece celebrating her wedding and then pregnancy, she didn’t find it. It was her favorite, whimsical shapes and swirls with sunflowers, frogs and butterflies in an asymmetrical layout.

      She gasped. Large pieces of it were scattered across the porch. She found one of the frogs on the bottom step. She picked it up and ran her thumb along the jagged edge where the leg had been.

      Garrett rushed to her side. “What is it? Are you okay?”

      She nodded. “Sorry. It’s one of my wind chimes. I started this one when we bought the house. Each section was tied to a memory.” She made sure to smile at him. “It’s just an object, right? The memories are in my heart. Let’s make sure everyone’s all right. That’s the important thing. Not broken pieces of clay.”

      “Are you sure?” He looked back at the porch. “Was it the one with the big sunflower and bugs?”

      She had to laugh. “Yes, butterflies, ladybugs and frogs. Steve loved frogs. He always had a pet one growing up. He wanted to put a pond for frogs on the property. I didn’t want the cleanup or risk to children. I was going to decorate the nursery with frogs if we had a boy.” She closed her eyes and gathered her thoughts. “I’m sorry—this doesn’t matter.”

      “Do you want to gather it up?”

      “No, it... We need to take care of my poor babies.”

      The beams of their flashlights scanned the area. Debris, both natural and man-made, cluttered the yard. As they walked past the empty garden, she let out her breath with a sigh of relief. Her pens and outbuildings all stood strong. He followed her to each shed and helped her check the huddled groups of animals. Everyone was safe and accounted for. Her father would be proud of his work.

      Garrett’s phone went off. Glancing down, he pulled his lips tight. “I need to go. We have low water crossings that need to be barricaded.” He glanced at her little farm. “Everyone is safe for now. You stay inside until we can get someone out here to look deeper at the damage.”

      He turned to the garage and stopped. There on the roof they found the reason for the loud crash.

      The old hackberry tree had moved into his bedroom. Thinking of the possibilities, she felt her heart skip. “I’m so glad you came to my house.”

      He gave a dry laugh and shook his head. “There has to be irony in this somehow. I just inherited two homeless kids and now it looks like I’m homeless, too.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

      “No, you’re not. I think when you said no to my offer of the house, God wanted you to say yes.”

      “You’re joking, right?” He looked down at her.

      She shrugged and gave a halfhearted laugh. “Maybe. But you have to admit my plan is sounding better now.”

      “I’m still not kicking you out of your own house. Where would you live?”

      “I can move into town. You could have a fully furnished house. We don’t even have to move anything.”

      “No. I couldn’t live in your house while you live somewhere else. I’ll call Sharon and tell her I need more time before I pick up the kids.”

      “We can’t let those babies stay in emergency care. If you refuse to live in my house, I could call my family and have the roof fixed in less than twenty-four hours. You know there aren’t a great deal of rental options in Clear Water.” She tucked her hand into the bend in his arm and leaned in close. “Si Dios quiere.”

      “Did you just say he wants God?”

      “No. It’s a saying that means to trust in God’s will. My grandmother and mother say it all the time. It’s drilled into my brain. Si Dios quiere. It’s how I try to live my life. The worse things get, the more I lean on that trust.”

      “I don’t trust easily.” He was looking straight ahead. The muscle in his jaw popped. “My son probably doesn’t trust

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