I started this story almost a year ago and somehow lost track of it. It was originally going to be an LW story but through time it became a romance. Yeah, I know, go figure. Thanks for reading.
Ridin the Storm Out
The storm rolled in around midnight, flashes and cracks of lightning followed by the long rolling rumbles of thunder. At one point there were so many bursts of lightning the sky looked like a strobe light. I knew there would be no going back to sleep until it was past. With a steaming cup of hot chocolate I walked onto the covered porch in my sweats, found my favorite chair and plunked my butt down. When the cabin was built by my grandparents it was purposely faced to the south. Not only would it pick up the passive solar heat in the winter, facing south would also protect the dwelling from the majority of storms which tended to come from the north or northwest.
The porch was ten feet deep, screened in and ran the entire length of the cabin. I call it a cabin, in reality it's a log home consisting of three bedrooms and two baths attached to bedrooms. There's a half bath in the hallway for guests and if anyone slept in the third bedroom. Which was highly unlikely since I had turned it into an office. From time to time a gust of wind was strong enough that I would feel a slight mist as it was pushed through the screens. Other than that I was completely dry.
I had come to like thunderstorms as a boy. Being the youngest of seven kids my early childhood consisted of most days with my great granddad. He would take me out on the porch while we watched it thunder and pour rain so thick at times it looked like a wall. He was 93 when I turned eleven, in my eyes that man could do no wrong, it was as though he walked on water. He taught me how to shoot and clean a gun, how to gut a deer, how to forge a stream and not be swept away, how to spit and blow my nose without a hanky, there seemed to be something new every day.
What I loved the most were stories of his boyhood home in northern Wisconsin. Stories of torrential downpours on a lazy afternoon, stories of winters so hard and snowstorms so prolific they had to tie a rope between the house and barn to find their way back and forth. One of my favorite pictures was a faded black and white of he and six other guys digging through a snow drift. What made it so significant was that the top of the drift was nearly two feet higher than the team of horses standing with them.
It was easy to reminisce on nights like this. It brought a smile to my face as I remembered an old REO Speedwagon song titled "Ridin the Storm Out". Just then a blast of wind came in from the north, I heard a loud "crack" followed by a bone numbing "thud". I didn't know which one, but a tree had gone down, thankfully it fell away from the house. Sadly it reminded me of the ruination of my marriage. Much like the tree it had come crashing down unexpectedly, but with finality.
Four years ago I sat watching nineteen years of marriage begin to unravel before my eyes as I observed Neal Everts put his hand on my wife's ass and she didn't move it or pull away. It was the annual Stenson family barbecue, they lived four houses down and threw the neighborhood soiree every July 4
th
weekend. My wife Babs and I met in high school, dated a little and went our way to different schooling after graduation. We bumped into one another three years later at of all places, the county fair. It wasn't love at first sight, hidden sexual desires, or the need to be with someone that kept us together that evening and the next sixteen years to come.
It was as simple as we liked being with each other, during that year after the county fair we did something so many couples don't do. We got to know each other. Being hundreds of miles apart we relied on phone calls and something fairly new to us, texting. Neither of us were party goer's or in need of constant sexual gratification, she had been ignorantly active in the past, as had I. We weren't virgins, far from it, but we also weren't what some might refer to as 'experienced', we knew the rudimentary functions but not much more. The few times we'd been with someone was okay, but it wasn't an over the moon kind of experience.
We both graduated college at 22, she was offered a position in the city where she had studied, I was still looking for something in my field many miles away. She took the job with the premise that we would find a way to be together when I was better situated concerning employment. In our minds it was going to be a lifetime of us, 3.2 children, 1.4 pets, a white picket fence and living together long enough to celebrate our seventieth anniversary. Isn't it interesting how life goes on as you make plans, what we thought was going to be forever soon dissipated when she became involved with a co-worker.
I voiced my disappointment but understood her situation as well. We'd never been intimate with each other, there were no strings attached, we were two young people with a dream and nothing more. We parted amicably, she married the co-worker a year later and I continued on alone. I was invited to her wedding and like a fool I went, the guy was handsome, intelligent and very attentive of Babs. It was easy to see how she fell for him as far apart as we were geographically. It only increased the despair I felt over losing her. I poured myself into my career as a physical therapist, having numerous contacts with females along the way.
One of those females I could see myself being committed to was a striking red head with a slim body and exceedingly sweet personality. What brought her to me was rehab after a broken elbow and wrist. Don't ask how it happened, I didn't ask, what I did know is that she was cast from fingers to just below the armpit. There was no ring on her hand, and she had never mentioned a man in our conversations. As her therapy was coming to a conclusion we had been flirting for a few weeks, she invited me to spend a weekend with her at her parent's lake home. I hadn't been with a woman for a few months and accepted on the spot.
It was Thursday of that week and her last appointment when I discovered she was married with a child. Her phone had rung and she said she had to answer it, as she stepped from the room I heard her say, 'I can't talk right now, yes, I love you too'.
I found myself thinking "what the hell was that about?" After she departed I began inquiring if anyone knew her, my suspicions were confirmed, she was indeed married. My dad had been a cheater and my mom followed suit trying to get even with him. I hated the thought of cheating and I sure as hell wasn't going to contribute to the demise of a marriage. She could find someone else for a little on the side, that incident caused me to delve further into myself and deeper into my career. It was three years later when I met Babs again, at, you guessed it, the county fair.
She looked different, not just naturally older, but worn out. Tagging along behind were her folks and two little girls, one a toddler, the other in a stroller. The one in the stroller was what I figured around six to seven months and the toddler closer to two. She smiled and shook my hand, we chatted a minute, I proceeded to excuse myself when her mom spoke.
"Calvin. Do you still live at the old farmstead?" I nodded. "Did you change the phone number after your mom died?" I shook my head. "Okay, thanks, have fun and eat a few curds for me."
