Free Storms by Carol Ann Harris

Ranger’ …
and
he stopped the rioting single-handed! Isn’t that cool?”
    â€œI’ve heard that quote, but I didn’t have a clue who said it! That’s totally amazing, Carol. That makes what I do seem like a cakewalk”, Lindsey answered.
    â€œWell, I wouldn’t say that necessarily, but at least you’re not being shot at. He was my grandmother’s brother and she told me that he was in over fifty gunfights, wounded over twenty times, and left for dead twice! Anyway, I just love it that he’s my great-uncle! Lindsey, can you tell me a little about your brothers and parents? I’m just nervous about meeting them, and it would help if I knew what to expect, you know?” I asked nervously.
    â€œThey’re going to love you, Carol. My older brothers are both married. Businessmen now”, he answered. In a proud voice he told me that his brother Greg won a silver medal in the 1964 Olympics for swimming. Jeff was even more of a hero to Lindsey. He lost part of his leg in a bad car accident and had an artificial limb below one knee. Jeff jogged, and unless you knew his leg was prosthetic, you’d never realize it. Lindsey’s love for both of them shone in his eyes as he spoke.
    His mother was widowed, as she lost his father to a heart attack during the fuel shortage of 1974. “My dad was in a line for gas. There were cars lined up for blocks and he had a heart attack. All alone in his car in a fucking gas line.” Lindsey abruptly took an exit into a rest area and turned off the engine. I tried to look into his face in the dimly lit wooded area, but all I could see was his profile. His voice, however, carried so much pain that I wanted to reach out and take him into my arms. Sensing that he needed to talk, I sat still as he told me in words full of tears of the day he lost his father.
    â€œI was in L.A., living with Stevie, when I got a phone call from my mom. I flew home that night and spent the night in my old bedroom. It was the worst night of my life.”
    â€œBaby, I’m so, so sorry.”
    Squeezing my hand tightly, Lindsey spoke of how much he missed and loved his father. How much he wished he could be here to share in whatwas happening in his life. I reached over and took his face into my hands and told him that I believed that his dad was with him, that he was watching over Lindsey, and how proud his father must be of him.
    Speaking softly, Lindsey said that he wanted to believe that. He told me that his family grew up in a beautiful house with a pool and belonged to a country club for half of his childhood. Then his dad’s coffee business started going downhill and they had to sell their big house for a smaller one. Father and sons handled it well, but it was hard on Lindsey’s mother to give up the home and the country club life that she loved. And then, after Lindsey left home to follow his dream with Stevie, his dad passed away. As he told me, his face filled with a grief that left me speechless with the knowledge that it could never be healed or soothed.
    He took a moment to collect himself and then leaned over and kissed me. “We’re only about an hour away. I’ve booked us into the Santa Clara Marriott. Tomorrow I’ll take you on a tour of my old neighborhood, and then we’re going to dinner with my family.”
    â€œSure, great”, I said weakly. My nerves were on edge about the family gathering, but I knew that at least I’d have a whole day to work up my courage as Lindsey showed me his hometown.
    We took the promised driving tour and spent a wonderful day. By the time we left to pick up his family for dinner, I was much more at ease and immediately felt welcomed by his brothers. His mother, Rutheda, in contrast was polite but distant.
I’ll win her over eventually
, I said firmly to myself.
After all, Lindsey is her youngest. All mothers are extra protective about their youngest child.
    We