Page 2 of Brought By the Storm

“No. Not old,” I clarified.

“It’s quite all right,” she soothed, as she and I inched closer to the cash register to keep pace with the moving line. “I’m sure you’re correct. It does sound unpleasant. I don’t like the sound of a group shower. However, young man, I’ve lived through worse. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and all that.”

“Look, it might seem audacious of me, but you guys can stay at my house until the storm passes,” I blurted. I didn’t know if it was a wise statement, but I felt relieved I had said it. Now, if they refused, I could go home without guilt. If they said yes, at least the mother seemed nice. I’d ignore the son. I still had no idea who the assistant was.

“Oh, that is very kind of you,” she replied. “But you must have your own family to care for, and we wouldn’t want to intrude.”

I had one more chance to latch onto her words and bow out. I didn’t. “No. No family. Just me. I have a three-bedroom, two-bathroom house and there’s a couch that can be slept on, too. It would be more comfortable than a school.”

She looked appreciative, but also skeptical. “Why would you make such a generous offer to strangers?”

I shrugged. “Desperate times, and all that,” I answered, mirroring her earlier comment. “I promise I’m not a psychopath. I’ve never invited people I don’t know into my home. However, I can’t in good conscience let you stay at a school. It will be just a night or two anyway. I have a whole-house generator, and now I should have enough food. I guess it will help me sleep better knowing I didn’t turn you away.”

Mrs. Howard smiled. “Americans are so giving. I, like you, wouldn’t choose to cohabit with strangers, but my instincts tell me you’re a nice man. And we were ready to share space with strangers in a school, and I would think that’s far riskier. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

I nodded. “Sure.”

She surprised me once again, pulling me into a hug. “You are a dear boy. We’ll compensate you, of course.”

I waved a hand through the air. “It’s not necessary. Consider it Connecticut hospitality.”

Mrs. Howard grinned and rubbed my arm, thanking me once again. I glanced toward her son, who looked dumbfounded by the sight of us. His expression turned grim. It made me wonder if I should have listened to the first voice in my head that told me to leave them to their own devices.

* * * *

Carrington

My assistant and friend, Stefan, trying to stay dry whilst huddling under the narrow overhang of the front entrance, shot me a questioning glance when my mother and I emerged from the store. The forward young man had charmed my mother and convinced her that staying at his house was a solution for our lack of shelter. Although I couldn’t find a feasible alternative, this plan felt reckless and impulsive.

“Sir, who is this?” Stefan asked, pointing to the American who had rolled out his cart behind us.

Before I could answer, the chap extended his hand to my assistant. “Eric. Eric Turner.”

The introduction didn’t erase Stefan’s look of confusion or compel him to extend his hand in return. The man who called himself Eric Turner lowered his hand as if it had been slapped.

“Okay,” Stefan stated, shooting me a look that implored clarification. “Where’s our cab? You texted me from the market you’d be ringing for one. If we don’t depart soon, we’ll miss the flight.”

“Whilst stuck in that line, I was searching the internet and saw our flight was canceled,” I replied. “And to worsen matters, my search for suitable quarters was fruitless. There is nothing available.”

“I’m guessing people were anticipating power outages and booked rooms days ago while they still could,” Eric Turner interjected. I must have looked perturbed at his intrusion, as he gulped and glanced at his tennis shoes.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” Stefan prodded with more of an edge.

“Stefan! Mr. Turner offered to help us with our dilemma,” my mother chastised. “He’s allowing us to stay at his home.”

“Stay at his house?” Stefan exclaimed before looking back to me. “Is that wise? Does he know about us?”

“Know what about you?” Eric Turner inquired, apprehension on his face.

“Oh, nothing dear,” my mother responded. “He just means that we’re not American and may have different customs, but I’m sure you already knew that from our accents.”

I could tell from Eric Turner’s expression that he was doubting my mother’s explanation, and from Stefan’s face that his question was answered that Mr. Turner was unaware of our identities. Because I hadn’t a notion what we’d do if Mr. Turner were to leave us in a lurch as had our driver, I felt compelled to provide a more believable response. “Mr. Turner, what Stefan was alluding to is that he and I are a couple. Will that be a problem?”

Eric Turner seemed to focus on me, which prevented him from seeing the looks of surprise from both Stefan and my mother. “Oh,” he answered, swallowing hard once again. “Um…no. I’m gay too. I guess that makes it easier. I was worrying I might have left something hanging around my house that would out me.” He appeared uncomfortable before adding, “I mean, not porn or anything. I don’t even have porn. Not that I want porn. I just…” His face was now bright red and he stammered the rest. “I just wasn’t sure what little thing could be…anyway, I just didn’t want anyone to be uncomfortable. You never know who is open-minded and who is not.”

My lie had elicited that surprise confession, but none of it mattered, considering we’d be gone in a couple of days. “Ah. Well, very good then. Perhaps we should be on our way before we get wetter?”

Eric Turner was still looking at me, his natural color returning. “Yes, of course. I’ll get my car from the parking lot and pull it up to the curb so you can stay dry under the overhang. Just watch the cart for me.”

When he was about ten feet away, he turned back to shout to us, “This worked out well. Now nobody needs to sleep on a couch. Mrs. Howard, you can take one room, and the gentlemen can share the bed in the other.”

I tried to smile in return, but I thought it displayed more like a grimace. I turned to my mother, who looked amused, then Stefan, who appeared to be mortified. “Oh, don’t you two give me grief. I had to come up with something to cover your mistakes. Maybe try a little harder to keep me alive, if you please.”