Valerie Hansen - Healing the Boss's Heart

During the years he’d spent up north, Greg had forgotten how terrifying the forces of nature could be in the plains. Unfortunately, it was all coming back to him. Vividly.

Maya had been watching with growing concern and already had her car keys in hand when she jerked open the door to admit her boss and Tommy. “Get inside. Quick!”

He thrust the squirming child at her. “Here. Take him. I’m going back after his dog.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She clutched his arm and pointed. “You’ll never catch it. Look.”

Debris was swirling through the air in ever-increasing amounts and the hail had begun to pile in lumpy drifts along the curb. It had flattened the flowers she’d so lovingly placed in the planters and buried their stubbly remnants under inches of white, icy crystals.

In the distance, Tommy’s dog was disappearing into the maelstrom. Unless the frightened animal responded to commands to return, there was no chance of anyone catching up to it.

Gregory took a deep breath and hollered, “Charlie,” but Maya could tell he was wasting his breath. The soggy mongrel didn’t even slow.

“Take the boy and head for the basement,” Gregory yelled at her. Ducking inside, he had to put his shoulder to the heavy door and use his full weight to close and latch it.

She shoved Tommy back at him. “No. I have to go get Layla.”

“In this weather? Don’t be an idiot.”

“She’s my daughter. She’s only three. She’ll be scared to death if I’m not there.”

“She’s in the preschool at the church, right? They’ll take care of the kids.”

“No. I’m going after her.”

“Use your head. You can’t help Layla if you get yourself killed.” He grasped her wrist, holding tight.

Maya struggled, twisting her arm till it hurt. “Let me go. I’m going to my baby. She’s all I’ve got.”

“That’s crazy! If the hail doesn’t knock you out cold the tornado’s likely to bury you.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t! Let go of me.” To her amazement, he held fast. This was the kind of crude treatment she’d refused to accept in the past and had thought she’d escaped for good. No one, especially a man, was going to treat her this way and get away with it. No one.

“Stop. Think,” he shouted, staring at her as if she were deranged.

She continued to struggle, to refuse to give in to his will, his greater strength. “No. You think. I’m going to my little girl. That’s all there is to it.”

“How? Driving?” He indicated the street, which now looked distorted from the vibrations of the front window. “It’s too late. Look at those cars. Your head isn’t half as hard as that metal is and it’s already full of dents.”

“But…”

She knew in her mind that he was right, yet her heart kept insisting she must do something. Anything. Please, God, help me. Tell me what to do!

“We’re going to take shelter,” Gregory ordered, giving her arm a tug. “Now.”

She couldn’t think and stumbled along as he pulled and half dragged her toward the basement access.

Staring into the storm moments ago she had felt as if the fury of the weather was sucking her into a bottomless black hole. Her emotions were still trapped in those murky, imaginary depths, still sinking, spinning out of control. She pictured Layla, with her silky, long dark hair and beautiful brown eyes.

“If anything happens to my daughter I’ll never forgive you!” she screamed at him.

“I’ll take my chances.”

Maya knew without a doubt that if her precious little girl was hurt she’d never forgive herself for not trying to reach her. To protect her. And she’d never forgive Gregory Garrison for stopping her. Never.

She had to blink to adjust to the dim light of the basement as he shoved her in front of him and forced her down the wooden stairs.

She gasped, coughed. The place smelled musty and sour, totally in character with the advanced age of the building. How long could that strip of brick-and-stone stores and offices stand against a storm like this? If these walls ever started to topple, nothing would stop their total collapse. Then, it wouldn’t matter whether they were outside or down here. They’d be just as dead.

That realization sapped her strength, leaving her almost without sensation. When her boss let go of her wrist and slipped his arm around her shoulders to guide her into a corner, she was too emotionally numb to continue to fight him. All she could do was pray and continue to repeat “Layla, Layla” over and over again.

“We’ll wait it out here,” he said. “This has to be the strongest part of the building.”

Maya didn’t believe a word he said.

Tommy’s quiet sobbing, coupled with her soul-deep concern for her little girl, brought tears to her eyes. She blinked them back, hoping she could control her emotions enough to fool the boy into believing they were all going to come through the tornado unhurt.

As for herself, she wasn’t sure. Not even the tiniest bit. All she could think about was her daughter. Dear Lord, are You watching out for Layla? Please, please, please! Take care of my precious little girl.

Upstairs, the noise of the storm was increasing drastically. Things crashed. Banged. Glass shattered. Dust was shaken from the rafters. Bits of old plaster and goodness knows what else rained down on them. The single overhead bulb swung wildly, flickered, then went out, leaving the basement in total darkness.

Instinctively, Greg pulled Maya closer. She put her arms around both him and Tommy and bowed her head against his shoulder.

He felt her tremble. “Hang on. We’ll be okay.”

“But what’ll happen to my baby? You shouldn’t have stopped me. I shouldn’t have let you.”

He accepted the rancor in her tone because he knew his decision to take shelter had been the right one. “You’ll feel differently once we look upstairs. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is the worst tornado outbreak High Plains has seen since the big one in 1860.”

He felt her shudder. “That would be devastating.”

“Exactly.”

Tommy was still sniffling. Greg didn’t have much experience with kids but he supposed the little boy was as concerned about his missing dog as Maya was about her family and friends. He knew he would have been at that age.

He was about to try to encourage Maya by mentioning the short-lived character of such storms when the building suddenly began to shake. Heavy wooden beams creaked and groaned overhead. Furniture, or something just as weighty, was being thrown and skidded across the office and hit the walls directly above their heads!

Maya screamed and pressed her cheek to his chest, holding tight.

The noise increased until it sounded as if a jet plane was taking off and flying right over their heads. The pressure in his eardrums made him feel as if he were rapidly descending a mountain road.

“Tornado!” Greg shouted.

Her shrill “I know!” was muted against his shoulder.

Time slowed to a crawl. Sounds of destruction seemed to echo endlessly.

Maya’s heartfelt pleas for deliverance were barely audible, but Greg could tell she was praying. He was tempted to do the same until his memories stopped him. He had decided long ago that he was in charge of his own destiny and nothing had happened since to change his mind. Let the woman pray if she thought it helped. He knew better.

Maya’s thoughts focused first and foremost on her daughter, then on the rest of her family. Jesse was running the Logan ranch north and west of town. He and Clay were all the blood relations she had besides Layla—and Jesse’s newborn triplets, of course.