Chapter 12 - The Storm Breaks
The summer storm hit Charleston with terrifying, dramatic force by late afternoon. Sheets of torrential rain lashed against the large warehouse windows of Callahan & Sons, turning the harbor outside into a churning gray expanse of white-capped waves.
The building was empty except for Margaret, Daniel, and me. Margaret had locked up the main office floors and retired to her private study on the upper level, leaving Daniel and me alone in the archive room while we waited for the worst of the flash floods to pass.
We sat together at the small wooden reading table near the window, watching the lightning split the bruised sky over the Cooper River bridge. The room was dim, illuminated only by the warm glow of a single brass desk lamp.
"Do you think she’ll ever understand?" Daniel asked quietly, breaking the steady hum of the rain against the glass. He was staring down at his hands, his fingers interlaced.
"No," I answered honestly, watching a droplet race down the pane of glass. "Understanding requires empathy, Daniel. And Emily has spent her entire life believing that the universe revolves around her comfort. When you remove that belief, there’s nothing left for her to anchor to."
Daniel looked up, his dark eyes catching the amber glow of the lamp. He shifted his chair closer to mine, the physical distance between us shrinking until I could feel the heat radiating from his shoulders.
"And what about you?" he asked softly. "Have you anchored yourself to anything yet?"
I turned my head to meet his gaze. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel the need to look away, to pull my sleeves down, or to shrink back into the shadows of my chair.
"I'm learning to," I said.
Daniel reached out, his hand hesitating for a fraction of a second before his fingers gently brushed against the back of my hand, resting on the wooden table. He didn't pull back. He didn't flinch. Slowly, deliberately, he slid his fingers between mine, intertwining our hands in the warm, dim light.
May you like
"Good," Daniel murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "Because I don't intend on going anywhere."
The storm outside raged on, bending the old oak trees along East Bay Street and rattling the historic windows of the building, but inside that small, quiet room, the fire that had haunted my life for a decade finally turned to ash.
