A Reunion and a Ring. Gina Wilkins

hadn’t prevented her and Gavin from sneaking off a few times to be alone, she recalled with a hard swallow. They’d found one particularly inviting clearing in the woods, carpeted with soft moss, serenaded by the sound of lazily running water.

      The unsettling memory was so clear she could almost hear that water now. She took a step forward into the room and started when her bare foot landed in a puddle of cold water. Lifting the lantern, she discovered a steady stream of rain pouring in onto the top bunk. Another, smaller leak dripped onto the floor where she’d just stepped.

      She raised the light higher, looking up at the ceiling. Another surge of hail pounded the windows and more water gushed through the leak above the bed. Obviously, shingles had been loosened or blown off. She rushed back into the kitchen, set her bag on the table and began to rummage quickly in the cupboards for containers in which to catch the leaks. Maybe she could save the wood flooring if she intervened quickly. She tried to be quiet, but pans clattered despite her efforts. She pulled out the largest pots she found, then tried to juggle them with a couple of dish towels and the lantern. This no-electricity thing could get old very fast.

      The other bedroom door flew open. “What are you doing out here?” Gavin sounded both sleepy and irritated.

      “I’m sorry I disturbed you again,” she replied over her shoulder. “The roof in this bedroom is leaking in two places. I’m trying to catch the water before it does any damage.”

      “Well, hell.”

      Moments later, he knelt beside her with another towel, though she’d already mopped up most of the standing water. His now-bare shoulder brushed her arm as they reached out together, and she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her. Just static, she assured herself, scooting an inch away. She stuck a pot beneath the leak and heard the rhythmic strike of drops against metal.

      “Should we try to move the bed away from the leak?”

      “Nowhere to move it to.” He picked up the other pot and set it on the top bed. Now the water splashed in stereo, thumping against the pots like miniature drumbeats. “There are waterproof covers on both mattresses. I’ll strip the beds and try to dry everything tomorrow.”

      He turned toward her, his partially shadowed face inscrutable. “Obviously you can’t stay in here. That dripping would drive you nuts.”

      “True.”

      He let out a sigh and motioned toward the doorway. “Looks like you’re sleeping in my bed tonight.”

      Her heart gave a hard thump simultaneously with the loud clap of thunder that accompanied his words.