Page 68 of Haunted By the Storm
Normal. Ordinary. Beautiful.
Storm spots me first, his expression changing from vigilant to stunned as he takes in my costume. I approach slowly, suddenly uncertain despite the careful thought I've put into this choice.
I'm dressed as a storm cloud—a flowing gray dress that shimmers with subtle silver threads, small LED lights sewn throughout to represent lightning, my hair styled with strands of silver. Not overtly costumey, but the meaning unmistakable.
"Camryn," he breathes when I reach them, his eyes taking in every detail.
"Mom!" Emily exclaims, running up to me. "You're a storm cloud! That's so cool!"
"Do you like it?" I ask Storm, suddenly anxious. "I thought it was fitting, after everything... A reminder that not all storms are destructive. Some are necessary. Cleansing."
His hand comes up to cup my face, his eyes suspiciously bright. "It's perfect," he says simply, voice rough with emotion.
Emily tugs at my dress, oblivious to the moment passing between us. "Look how much candy I got already! And Storm scared Mr. Mickelson when he tried to give me those yucky peanut butter things you don't let me have."
"Did he now?" I ask, grateful for the interruption, for Emily's uncomplicated joy pulling us back from the brink of too much emotion on a public street.
"I just reminded him that some kids have allergies," Storm says innocently, though the gleam in his eye tells a different story. "Firmly."
I laugh, imagining the scene, poor Mr. Mickelson confronted by a pirate-costumed Storm in full protective mode over candy choices. "I'm sure you were very persuasive."
We continue down the street, Emily running ahead to the next house, Storm and I following at a softer pace, his arm around my waist, my head occasionally leaning against his shoulder.
"You know," he says after a few houses, "most people are afraid of storms."
"I was," I acknowledge, understanding where he's going. "For a long time."
"But not anymore?"
I look up at him, at this man who carries danger like a second skin but who has never been anything but gentle with me, with Emily. "I've learned to tell the difference between destructive storms and protective ones," I tell him. "I've learned which ones bring growth after they pass, which ones clear the air."
His arm tightens around me, and I feel rather than see his smile.
As we walk, I notice the sky darkening slightly, clouds gathering on the horizon. A distant rumble sounds, thunder, miles away, the edge of a system passing well to our north.
A month ago, that sound would have sent me into a panic. Now, I feel only the slightest quickening of my pulse—easily managed with a deep breath and the solid presence of Storm beside me.
"Hear that?" Storm asks, also noticing the thunder.
"I do," I confirm. "But it's far away. Not a threat."
"No," he agrees, something like pride in his voice. "Not a threat at all."
Emily comes running back, her bag noticeably heavier. "Did you hear the thunder?" she asks, looking up at the sky with curiosity rather than fear. "Is it going to rain on Halloween? That would be so unfair!"
"I don't think so, princess," Storm assures her. "That storm's passing us by."
"Good!" she declares, then races off to the next house with inexhaustible energy.
"She's never been afraid of storms," I observe, watching her go. "Only I was."
"Kids have good instincts," Storm says. "They know what to fear and what's actually safe. It's as we get older that we get confused."
"Wise words from a pirate," I tease.
He grins, the expression transforming his face into something boyish and carefree. "I contain multitudes."
I lean up to kiss him, quick but meaningful. "Yes, you do."
