‹ Prequel: Tornado

Flood

The End

Charlotte left around 9:30 to go to the restaurant and I sighed. I went into my mom’s room. She was napping at the desk and I peered at the list she had made. It was really long. I nudged her awake and she gasped, looking around.

“Where’s the fire?” she asked and I smiled.

“No fire, just your son.”

“Oh,” she said and rubbed her eyes. “Where’s Charlie?”

“She went to go check on the restaurant.” I picked up the paper. “Is this everything that has to be done?”

She nodded sadly. Then her phone rang. “It’s your father,” she whispered and pressed the green button. “Hey sweetie how are- What? … Oh, Ryder!” she sobbed.

I groaned and stood my mom up, letting her cry as she talked to my father. I couldn’t understand what she was saying but I knew what happened. When she hung up, she clung to my shirt, sobbing so hard she didn’t have a voice when she finally cried herself out. I helped her to bed and kissed her forehead before rushing to my room and breaking down.

-

Charlotte got back around eleven. I was still sitting in bed, crying quietly.

“I swear, the rumors flying around- Spencer?” she whispered but I couldn’t look up. I felt her sit in front of me. “Did it happen?” I nodded mutely and she held me tightly. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

The lump in my throat disappeared as I started weeping into her shoulder. I clung to her as tight as I could. She rocked me, much like she did just the other day. She rubbed my back and reached for my trash can as my back arched. I threw up several times. Finally, when my stomach was empty and my tear ducts pretty much dry as a well, I fell back onto my pillows.

I felt her get up and I opened my eyes. She was taking her shirt off and for a horrible minute I thought she was trying to seduce me. Then she put the shirt in the trash and grabbed a random one of mine, not speaking.

“Did I throw up on your shirt?” I mumbled. She nodded, picking up the trash can. “I’m sorry.”

She bent down and kissed me. “Don’t be sorry. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

She went to throw out the contents of the trashcan and I heard my dad pull into the driveway. They exchanged a few words. My door opened. I thought it was Charlotte, but it was my dad. I sat up and he hugged me tightly, sitting on the bed. The two of us cried together. I didn’t even think I had any tears left.

After my father went to comfort my mother – the one who needed it most, in my opinion – Charlotte got in bed with me. I turned on my side and she wrapped her arms around my waist. She rested her head on my shoulder, kissing my neck once in a while. I closed my eyes to her comforting touch and soon fell asleep.

—Charlotte—

We stood in the church, staring at the casket. I had never met Dr. Zachary Pipps but, from all that I heard and all that Spencer had told me, he had been a wonderful man. His picture showed a spunky man with long white hair he tied back in a ponytail. He had bright blue eyes.

I held Spencer’s hand. He was squeezing it tightly, trying not to cry. He kept glaring at two people in the front row next to his mother. I could only imagine they were Dr. Pipps’s children. As the priest gave the final prayers, people began to file by his casket.

“I’ll wait here,” I whispered and Spencer nodded mutely, going to the casket.

I watched, my heart breaking in half, as he bent over and placed a kiss on Dr. Pipps’s cheek. He mumbled something and, when he got back, crumpled into a chair. I sat beside him, letting him cry more into my shoulder. Ryder sat with Juniper. Her cries filled the room and people stood around, trying to think of some kind of comforting words for her. I knew there weren’t any, though. The two strangers were watching Juniper cry with apathy.

“Juniper Vance,” one of them – the brother – said finally and she turned to him slowly, standing as she did so. “I hear you’ve been meeting with my father’s lawyer.”

“Yes, I have,” she said in a strong voice.

Spencer stood, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. I put an arm around his back but he didn’t look at me.

“Who has given you permission?” the sister asked.

“Zachary did,” she returned, her voice cracking at his name. “He made me sole executor, as you remember.”

“We demand to see him,” the sister snapped. “What we have been given is unfair.”

“It was your father’s last wish,” Ryder said coldly. “And you are selfish and disgusting for bringing this up at his funeral.”

The brother glared at them both. “Come along, Barbie. We’ll let the courts handle this.”

We watched as they left. Spencer was shaking with anger. I pried his fingers open and held his hand, wincing as he gripped tightly. Soon, it was just the four of us with Zachary. I looked over at his body.

I had never seen a dead body before. He was thinner than the picture and his skin was slightly blue. It looked, though, like he would wake up any second. I had to stare at his chest for a few seconds to make sure it wasn’t moving.

“He would’ve loved you,” Juniper whispered, seeing me watching him.

“I wish I could have met him,” I whispered back. “How old was he?”

“He was 93,” Ryder answered, his eyes misty.

“Can you take me home?” Spencer mumbled and his mother smiled sadly.

“I’ll take him,” I said and walked out with him.

He leaned into me, more tears falling down his cheeks. I got him into bed and he held my wrist.

“I’m sorry I haven’t done much for you,” he mumbled.

I smiled and kissed him gently. He ran his hand into my hair and sighed through his nose. He pulled my body on top of his.

“No, Spencer,” I breathed as he kissed my neck. “Not now.”

“Okay.”

“I want to,” I assured him, “but now is not the time.”

“You’re right.”

I kissed him again. “I have to go turn in our project. Do you want me to come back over when I’m done?”

“No,” he said finally. “Go get rest. Hang out with your girlfriends.”

“You sure?”

He smiled. “I’m positive, Charlie.”

—Spencer—

I slept for maybe 12 hours. I didn’t hear my parents when they came back home. When I checked my phone, I had a text from Charlie.

Turned in our project. We got an A. Call me when you want to get together. Love you – Charlie

I stretched and got out of bed. My dad was downstairs with some coffee, going over some documents. He smiled tiredly at me.

“Mom in bed?” I asked and he nodded. “Dad, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, son,” he said, putting the paper down.

“Do you think it’s possible for someone my age to be in love?” I whispered.

“Of course,” he frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

I toyed with his pen. “I dunno…. Because I’m only 22.”

“Zachary once told me something that I firmly agree with: age does not define wisdom.” I smiled at him. “We’re talking about Charlotte?”

I nodded. “I mean, I don’t want to marry her right this instant, but….”

“You can see a future with her?”

I nodded again. “I think I’ll take her out tonight. Somewhere fun.”

“Just no clubs,” he said with a smirk and I chuckled.

“No clubs,” I promised.

-

I took her to my favorite park. It had a lake and I had packed a picnic basket. She put a blanket out on the ground. It was a clear night, letting us see the stars. After a quick meal of chicken and potatoes, we lay down together.

I put my arm around her and she rested her head on my chest.

“Oh!” she said. “A shooting star! Make a wish!”

I closed my eyes. I wish I could stay like this forever.

What my father said was true: Age doesn’t define wisdom. As Charlie pointed out the different constellations her father had taught her, my heart continued to swell. Perhaps we would never get married. Perhaps we would.

I didn’t know what the future held for me. But, as I lay with her, I knew in that moment that I loved her, she loved me, and things were going to be okay.