Every Cloud. - Book one.

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear” -C.S. Lewis.

Emma

I’m falling. Darkness shrouds me. A disembodied hand and forearm pull away into the blackness; I try to reach out to stop the person and myself from tumbling further. I miss. The hand disappears, and I continue falling until I hit the bottom of the pit.

Jolting awake, sweat is dripping off me, I’m struggling to breathe, and it has nothing to do with the tiny human who has taken over my bed, whose foot is half covering my face. Gazing over at the clock on the bedside cabinet, I groan, 2:47 am; ugh, you have got to be kidding me. Lifting the comforter, I check on my favorite person, cooing down at Ollie as he lets out his snuffly sleep sounds.

I hate having to move him when he’s sleeping so peacefully. I feel bad, but I need some air right now; I need to try to work out what the hell that damn nightmare was about. I shift his little leg to his side of the bed because, you know, I guess we share now.

As I get out of the bed as smooth as I can, I lean over and turn him right-side-up so that Ollie doesn’t suffocate. After giving him a quick kiss on the forehead, I head downstairs in silence, not wanting to wake either Ollie or Dad—who is sleeping just down the hall. Creeping down the stairs, I somehow manage to hit every creaky step as I go; note to self—work out which ones they are to avoid them next time.

Making my way into the kitchen, I jump about fifty feet into the air. A dark shadow looms in front of the open fridge. My hand flings to my mouth, stifling a scream.

The figure turns, with a can of whipped cream in his hand, and says, “Shh, Baby-girl, it’s just me. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Holy crap on a cracker, Daddy, you scared the life out of me. What are you doing, creeping about down here? You okay?” I half-whisper at him.

Dad starts to chuckle, replacing the cap back on the spray can of cream. I give him an accusatory look as he does so. “Don’t judge me, Pumpkin. I had a rough dream and couldn’t sleep. So, I decided I need a drink and—a snack.”

Looking at this grown man in front of me, trying to convince his child that cream from a spray can is a standard snack at three in the morning, I often wonder who the parent is between us. “A banana is a snack, Daddy; whipped cream from a can is not.” I shake my head at him. “What was this dream of yours about? If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.” I start gathering what I need to make myself a tea. Throwing a gesture to Dad to see if he wants one too. He nods eagerly, so I go about making the tea as he tells me about his dream.

Taking a deep breath, he runs a hand through his salt and pepper smattered hair, then sighs, “I don’t know, if I’m honest, it’s kinda hard to explain Darlin’, I just remember it being real’ dark, and something about a hand that I couldn’t reach, then we both fell. Weird, right?”

The spoon clatters to the counter, slipping from my hand as I try to remove the teabag. “Woah, Pumpkin, it wasn’t all that bad, honest.” He soothes me for a second time.

“I-I know Daddy, i-it’s just I had that very dream, that’s why I’m awake.” I pad over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist; I give him a squeeze which he reciprocates while rubbing my back with one hand and my arm with the other.

“Now, now, Emma, don’t get all dramatic on me. I’m sure it’s nothing, alright?” He coos into my hair.

“Dramatic, Daddy?” I squeal in a higher than usual octave.

He winces for a moment, “Mmhmm, yeah, baby, sure, that’s not dramatic at all. Look, I get it, Pumpkin; we had the same dream, but you know we’ve always been close. It was most likely, what’s that thing twins get? Just sympathy pains or something, ya know?”

I look into his kind eyes and shake my head, “I think you mean twin telepathy, and I don’t think that’s quite how that works, Daddy.” After finding out we’ve both had the same dream, I’m kinda creeped out. Daddy must sense this, so he is happy to just sit in comfortable silence with me as we both sip on our tea.

“You feelin’ better now, Darlin’?” Daddy asks as he clears away our mugs.

I give a sheepish shrug, “I guess, I don’t know, I just have a weird feeling, ya know.” Dad nods, seeming to know what I mean, without having to say too much.

Daddy puts the mugs into the dishwasher and makes his way back to my side as I sit at the kitchen island, swinging my legs back and forth like I did as a child. “You know what Maw-Maw always says, Pumpkin—” he begins.

“—Everything happens for a reason.” We finish together.

I embrace him tightly, “I know, Daddy, I know. I just wish I knew what it meant,” I sigh.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I could use some more sleep. If you think you’re gonna be alright, I’m gonna head to bed, night-night—well, what do you know, I’m a poet, and I didn’t know it,” Dad chuckles at his hideous ‘Dad joke’ as I hop down from the counter.

“For the love of—just go to bed, Daddy; I’ll be fine. I should get to bed myself; school tomorrow, and ‘Hurricane Ollie’ will be up in a few hours.” I embrace him once more as we part ways in the hallway.

“Night, Pumpkin. Get some sleep.” Dad bends a little, I lift my head to meet him halfway, and he brushes his lips down onto my forehead.

Opening my bedroom door in full stealth mode, I’m careful to not let it fully shut behind me. I don’t need Mr. Oliver to wake up right now. If he wakes up, there will be no getting him back to sleep, and I do not need to be cranky and groggy tomorrow while trying to wrangle a herd of kindergarteners.

Working as a Kindergarten teacher, I have to be on the ball daily. Not only do I have their lives and minds in my hands, but those minds can be little evil geniuses when they want to be. So, being awake and on the ball is crucial.

Checking the time on my phone, 3:10am, I huff a deep sigh. Hmm, if I fall asleep straight away, it’ll give me another two hours and fifty minutes of sleep. Then again, knowing the tiny hurricane that’s sleeping like a baby next to me right now, I should lower that timescale by about fifty minutes.

Slipping under the covers, I sigh once more, cursing myself as I accidentally nudge Ollie. He was more on my side than I had first thought. My breathing stops for a split second. Lucky for me, he stays fast asleep­—which is a miracle in itself.

I feel so lucky to have this tiny human in my life. He may not have had the ideal upbringing so far in his short time on Earth. However, he has never gone without and has one-hundred percent of my love.

Becoming a single parent was never in my original life plan. But what can you do when your childhood sweetheart, the love of your life, cheats on you with your best friend? I might add that this all happened the night you were planning on telling him he was going to be a father.

As I lay there, in the quiet, somewhere between the middle of the night and twilight, I think back to my childhood and compare it to Ollie’s.

Mama and Daddy were childhood sweethearts, too. She was the pretty, blue-eyed, blonde cheerleader. He was the hot jock with an incredible body and dreamy brown eyes; he had a full head of thick brown hair (his description, not mine). My choice of words for him now would be much the same, except his incredible body has now turned into a Dad-bod, though still kept in reasonable shape for his age. His hair is now a tad thinner on top with a speckling of salt and pepper streaks, don’t tell him I said that, of course.

From what I’m told, my parents were just about perfect for each other. The only blip in their relationship was when they were eighteen. After graduation, Daddy proposed. He says he knew that Mama was the only woman for him. (Until I came along, of course, but hold on, we’re getting there.)

Mama, of course, said ‘a thousand times yes.’ They began to plan their big day. It was just as well that they wanted to get married as fast as possible because somehow, in all their excitement of being newly-engaged high school graduates, they found out they were expecting little ol’ me.

This is where the blip happened. It turns out Mama’s Mom and Dad were none too happy about my Daddy ‘corrupting’ their perfect angel. They kicked her out. So, she came to live with Maw-Maw and Pops.

Just under a month later, Lily Walker and Kyle Scott were married. I’m told the day was perfect. If only every story had a happy ending.

I was born around seven months into their perfect marriage. Sadly, Mama died that very same day. Daddy told me that even though I arrived happy and healthy, the labor was long, and she had many complications. Mama got to meet me and hold me for a short while before they whipped me off her chest. Mama’s body went into shock. Daddy told me there was nothing anybody could have done. She had suffered a massive hemorrhage.

Daddy was angry, broken-hearted, and lost for a long time. Maw-Maw took over looking after me while he got back on his feet. It took him a long time, but soon he started to come back to life.

Dad couldn’t stand living in our small town, either. Too many reminders of Mama - the love of his life. So, he packed up and moved to the city. It was hard enough for a boy with only a high school education to get a job, let alone one with a baby in tow. So, he left me in our hometown with Maw-Maw and Pops. He’d visit as often as he could and always made sure to be there for the important milestones in my life, and of course, he’d drop everything the second I needed him.

When I was growing up, I wanted for nothing. Except, on occasion, my Mama. I didn’t get to know her on a personal level. Yet, the stories about her always left a hole in my heart. Having a ‘step-in mom’ in Maw-Maw worked well enough. Maw-Maw was young enough herself when she had Daddy that sometimes she was mistaken for my mother. She could still keep up with running after me and all my shenanigans. I guess young parenthood runs in the family.

My life changed on my first day as a sophomore in high school. I was fifteen and didn’t have my driver’s license yet. Daddy, as always, dropped me off on my first day of school. Leaning over the center console of his truck, he gave my forehead a tender kiss and said what he always did, “Have a great first day, Pumpkin. And remember, ’Don’t be a fool—­” he began.

“—On the first day of school.” I finished for him with a chuckle, “I know, Daddy. Will you be here to pick me up later?” I ask with hope, knowing full well he had to get back to his job as owner of his own garage. It kept him busy, yet being his own boss had the perks of being there when I needed him.

“I’m sorry, Darlin’, I have to get back to the city; you know you can always come with me. There are schools in the city too.” He tried to persuade me on many occasions to go and live with him.

“Daddy, my friends are here, my school is here, Maw-Maw and Pops are here—” I pause briefly, then take a breath before I continue, “—Mama’s here.” It’s scarcely above a whisper, but I know he heard me.

He nods, then prepares to head off by restarting the truck. Jumping out, I give him a sorrowful wave as he drives away. I turn around and step towards the school, only to bump headfirst into someone picking their bag up off the pavement. Our heads collide, “Ouch! Quite the head you’ve got there; you might wanna watch where you’re aiming it,” he chuckles a throaty laugh while rubbing his head. My apologies are in abundance. I’ve still not taken all of him in.

At last, I look up and see his face. It’s like no one else exists, just like Daddy said it would happen. I can’t breathe, I can’t talk, and my hands are clammy. Oh, God! Say something, anything, he’s gonna think you’re a doofus!

He clears his throat, then speaks, “Uhm, Miss? Are you quite alright?” He asks in a smooth, deep southern drawl while brushing a loose tendril of blond hair off my face

God, he smells terrific, his cologne is woody with a hint of citrus, and he’s close enough for me to smell the fresh mint on his breath. Looking up into his hazel eyes—they’re perfect. I move up to his mousey brown hair. I find myself wanting to run my fingers through it.

He’s taller than me, by at least a foot. Then again, who isn’t? He’s muscular and lean. He must be a jock. But I sure as hell haven’t seen him around these parts before.

“Who are you?” It’s all I manage to respond, eliciting the most amazing deep-bellied laugh from him I have ever heard.

“Well, I guess you are okay. I’m Casey Carson. It’s my first day.” He holds out his hand, I slip mine inside it, and we shake hands. I pull my hand away fast when I remember it was clammy.

Oh God, ground, you can swallow me up now.

“I uh-I’m sorry, I have sweaty hands,” I stutter while wiping my hand on my jeans. My face pulls into a grimace then I give him an apologetic shrug.

“Hey, it’s all good.” He winks at me and, in a smooth move, slips his hand back into mine, interlocking our fingers. He caresses the back of my hand with his thumb. I can’t move again, struck dead-still in the hold of his stare. What is this guy doing?

As if he can read my thoughts, he lets go of my hand; he doesn’t leave, though.

“I’m sorry, I guess I should’ve known the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen would have a boyfriend. I was way too forward. I’ve just never seen anyone that looks like you do. I just had to touch you again,” he rambles. But before I have the chance to correct him, I don’t have a boyfriend, and the fact that I haven’t even told him my name, the bell rings, alerting us that we have two minutes to get to Home Room.

It’s funny because I’m sure the bell tends to stop after around ten seconds, but it’s still ringing. It’s then that I realize I’m being dragged from my dreams by my alarm clock yelling at me to get my lazy butt out of bed.

I must have drifted off thinking about the day I met Ollie’s father. The love of my life. Breaker of my heart.

Fluttering my eyes open, I see it’s just after six. Ollie is nowhere to be found. I assume he has gone downstairs to find his Pops. Meandering my way downstairs, I find Ollie already in front of the television watching ‘Power Rangers’ with a bowl of cereal. “Pops, let you eat in front of the television, huh?” He nods his answer in silence, happily munching away on his breakfast. I ruffle my favorite human’s hair, placing a kiss on the top of his head, “Mornin’ Baby, sleep well?”

“Mornin’ Mama, yup, the bestest. Your bed is so comfy!” He coos at me. I know I shouldn’t let him sleep in my bed, but I mean, he’s so god damn cute. No-one else is sleeping there right now, and let’s face it, he sure as hell ain’t gonna want to sleep there forever, is he? So, why not let him enjoy his sleep, snuggled up to his Mama?

“I’m glad to hear it, Baby. Now eat up; we gotta get ready for school, Honey. Where’s Pops? Kitchen?” I ask, and he shrugs - damn rugrat.

Daddy is on the phone when I walk into the kitchen, clutching his chest, tears pouring down his face.

~**~