Taking Chances: Tangled Up Part 38

Then Max jerked her attention back to him when he jammed the truck into park and turned to her.

"Bree." His voice was gruff and his expression pained. "I never meant . . ." But he trailed off.

"Yes, you did," she said, her voice quieter and calmer now. "You did mean to know me best. You wanted to believe that. You wanted to think we were still that close."

He pulled in a long breath. "Yes."

"Well, it doesn't work that way," she told him. "You have to be here if you want to be close to me. And you have to quit telling me that I can't commit, because I believed you. But it's not true."

"I just want-"

"I'm going to tell you what I want," she interrupted.

She thrust a photograph at him and jabbed it with her finger. "This. This is what I want."

Max looked down.

"That's Maggie," she said, studying the photo as Max did. "Someone brought her sc.r.a.pbook to me this morning. They found it in the middle of the park and wanted to know if I could get it to her. She told me some stuff the other day when I was with her, and I couldn't help but look through it."

"Stuff like what?" Max asked.

"Stuff about excitement and adventure and . . . life."

She handed him another photo. She'd grabbed these specifically so she could show him and tell him all of this. "This is her traveling through Europe when she was eighteen. See how happy and excited she looks?"

Max nodded.

"I know that look," Bree said. "I've had that look myself a ton of times."

He nodded again. "I know. I love that look on you."

"That's the kind of look I've seen on my brother's face in so many of the pictures we have of him," she said, emotions tightening her throat. "He was an adventurer. A dreamer. But he only got eleven years. He didn't get to see Europe or the Grand Canyon or go skiing. But he explored and played and got excited about learning and trying new things. That look has always been in my mind. I've worked to have that look because I thought that was how to honor him."

Max just swallowed hard at that.

"But this-" She put the first photo back on top. "This is what I want for me-and for everyone I love. It's definitely what I would want for Brice if he were still here."

The photo was of Maggie and Gene surrounded by all their children and grandchildren on the front porch of their home with a HAPPY 50TH ANNIVERSARY banner over their heads.

She couldn't wait to return the photos to Maggie, but she couldn't help but think that she'd been meant to see them first. At least she was grateful she had. And maybe even to the tornado that had blown it into the park but hadn't damaged it in any way.

"Do you see how happy she looks in both photos?" Bree asked.

Max nodded.

"But do you see how they're different? The first, in Europe, is excited happy. I've had a lot of that. But it comes and goes. That kind of excitement fades over time. This-" She pointed to the family photo. "That's deep, lasting happiness. It's softer, and it gets stronger over time."

Then, as if Mother Nature needed to protect her bada.s.s reputation, a powerful boom exploded overhead, rattling the truck, and a moment later a bright flash of electricity arced from the sky. There was a loud crack, and Bree and Max looked at each other.

"It hit something," she said unnecessarily.

"Yeah," Max agreed.

He looked torn. They weren't done talking, but there was stuff happening outside of the truck that couldn't wait.

"I just-"

He was interrupted again by something hitting the windshield with a big thunk.

It was a shingle.

Bree's eyes flew to the main barn just behind Gigi's house, the roof visible over the top of the house. There was a bright blue tarp now flapping in the wind, and as she watched, the wind wrenched another new shingle off the roof and blew it across the yard.

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h." Max threw the truck into drive and barreled down the sloppy mud path.

He drove straight across Gigi's back and side lawn, narrowly missing a garden gnome and a patio chair. He stomped on the brakes in front of the barn.

Bree was already out the door by the time he'd killed the engine. She ran to the barn doors and yanked one open, slipping inside.

It only took a second to realize they had a big problem. It not only sounded like someone had left the bathtub faucet running, but it also looked like it. There was a hole in the roof, and water was pouring into the barn. It was the same patch she and Max had inspected the first day here, so for the time being, the water was. .h.i.tting the loft area. But the supplies that had been re-stored up there were getting wet, and if the rain continued as it was supposed to, the water would eventually seep over the side and run onto the floor in the main part of the barn. One of the first places the Bronsons would want to see tomorrow on their visit.

"f.u.c.k!" Max exclaimed from behind her.

"We have to get up there," she said, starting around him.

He grabbed her upper arm. "We're not going up there. We'll catch the rain in something down here."

"What are you going to haul up to the loft that's big enough? And how are you going to empty it when it fills up before it runs over?" she asked.

He had no answer. She pulled away from his hold. "I have to go up."

"You're not climbing around on a slippery, wet roof in this wind by yourself," he said.

"Then you'd better come with me." Bree made it to the door and out to the truck before he caught her again.

They were both soaked by the time she got to the bottom of the scaffolding that the roofers had been using.

"This is stupid," he said, looking up.

"We can't let the barn get flooded," Bree said. "Besides, I'm the best climber in town, and I have something that guarantees I'll be okay."

"Yeah, what's that?" he asked as he grabbed the bottom railing.

She gave him a smile. "You. I never do exciting, stupid things without you beside me, and they always turn out great."

"Stupid?" he asked. "At least you have climbing gear or a parachute during those times."

She nodded. "But there's always a risk. That's what makes it fun."

He groaned loud enough that she could hear it even over the rain.

Bree turned and put a foot up on the lowest metal pole. "I know how you like when I go up first," she told him over her shoulder. "But watch your step. It's a little slick."

He swatted her a.s.s. "Get moving."

Bree hurried up the scaffolding, feeling Max moving behind her.

At the top, she started to stand but quickly realized the surface was far too slippery for that. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled toward the flapping blue tarp and the hole.

"f.u.c.king sonofab.i.t.c.h," Max said behind her a moment later.

She looked back. He was likewise crawling on all fours, but he winced when he put his weight on his bad knee.

"I'm going to chew someone's a.s.s so hard," he said as he inspected the area. "What the f.u.c.k were they doing?"

"It looks like the shingles that are blowing off were just on those stacks?" Bree asked, pointing to several short columns of remaining shingles. "They weren't attached?"

"Apparently not," Max said grimly. "They covered the opening with the tarp and held it down with the shingles they hadn't used yet. Maybe they had to stop because of the rain, but they were supposed to have this done hours ago."

"But they didn't think about the wind taking the shingles?" Bree asked.

Max wiped a hand over his face. "I guess. Let's just get the tarp back in place. We can't get the shingles on in this."

Bree studied the flapping tarp. It was at least ten by ten and was a thicker plastic than the one Max had in his truck. It was being held in place by only one corner and was flapping in the wind and slapping against the roof with loud smacks. "Okay, great idea."

Max crawled over to her. "I'll steady you. You stretch up and grab for it."

He put his big hands on her hips, and she instantly felt more secure. Still, the moment she got to her feet, the wind hit her directly in the chest, and she wobbled.

"I've got you," Max said over the noise of the storm. "Stretch."

She leaned, letting Max do most of the work of holding her up, and reached. She caught the edge of the tarp, but the slippery plastic quickly slid out of her fingers. She put one foot forward and leaned farther, gritting her teeth. This time she grabbed it in her full fist and pulled it down to where Max could get a grip on it as well. He held the edge of the tarp with one hand and her with the other.

The wind whirled around them, and the raindrops pelted them, making it difficult to see. Bree felt the storm pulling at the tarp, and she grabbed it with her other hand. So did Max. He let go of her completely to fight the tug-of-war with the wind, and Bree felt herself pitch forward. She landed on her knees on top of the tarp.

"Jesus, Bree, are you okay?" he yelled over the wind.

"Yeah. I'm okay." Bruised, but still on the roof, so she was fine. It was hard to remember that she didn't have gear on. She wasn't afraid of heights and didn't worry much about falling when she was up above the earth, but that was because she had ropes and hooks and parachutes.

"We have to secure it somehow!" he yelled.

Exactly. And half the shingles were scattered across Gigi's lawn.

They both looked around, but there was nothing else left up on the roof.

"I'll have to nail it down," Max decided.

"You can't nail it down," Bree said.

"I have stuff in my truck that would weigh it down," he said, staring at his truck. "But you can't hold this by yourself."

Kneeling on it was helping, though. It was easier than trying to hang on to the slick, wet plastic while the relentless fifty-mile-an-hour winds tried to carry it away.

"Sure I can," Bree said, knowing very well she couldn't. "I'll just . . . lay on it." The thought came to her suddenly. Kneeling on it allowed her to put her body weight on it and spread it over a larger area. Lying down would do even more. She weighed a hundred and twenty pounds. That would hold the flapping tarp.

"You'll lay on it," Max repeated. "What? Until the storm blows over? Or tomorrow morning when I get those lazy f.u.c.kers back up here to finish?"

"I'll lay on it while you go and get something else to hold it down."

Max glanced at the truck again. It wasn't perfect, but it was the only option. "I'll be right back."

He wasn't. Climbing down the scaffolding, which was basically just narrow metal railings and plywood, wasn't easy to do in these conditions anyway, but added to that was Max's bad knee. The climbing up and down and crawling on the roof would be hard enough on him, but on his return trip he would be carrying something heavy. And he'd probably have to take more than one trip. It wasn't like he could bring a lot up in his arms at once.

For what felt like forever, Bree lay on her stomach on the tarp, her arms and legs extended to hold down as much as she could, while rain bombarded her. She was freezing, her limbs stiff and cold, but that didn't stop her thoughts from whirling. Max couldn't leave her. She would never complain about being bored again as long as she was warm, dry, and not at risk of being blown off a barn roof. And Max couldn't leave her.

Finally, she heard his footsteps on the roof. He plunked a toolbox down a few feet away on top of the tarp and flipped it open. He pulled out several heavy metal tools and distributed them around the tarp, but it wasn't enough to let Bree get up.

He repeated the trip down to his truck and back up twice more before they had enough stuff so that the tarp would stay in place, at least until the wind died down.

Bree got to her feet unsteadily. The wet denim of her jeans, her cold joints, and the wind all combined to make it extremely hard to move gracefully. She stepped forward just as a loud crack sounded overhead and a blinding flash of light shot across her peripheral vision. She turned swiftly, just in time to see the streak of lightning hit the weather vane on the peak of the barn. Bree jumped back instinctively, and the heel of her shoe caught the handle of a heavy wrench that was holding down the tarp. She lost her balance, and her feet skidded out from underneath her. She hit her b.u.t.t and felt herself sliding down the incline of the roof. Scrambling, she grabbed for something to stop her descent but caught only thin air.

"Bree!" she heard Max shout.

"Max!"

She was sliding toward the edge of the roof, and she fought to dig her heels into the shingles. They were slippery, and her momentum was pitching her forward. She saw the green of the gra.s.s below come into sight, and she prepared herself to attempt to grab the edge of the roof as she went over.

Suddenly she was jerked to a stop.

She looked over her shoulder to find that Max had grabbed the back of her shirt while hanging onto the edge of the hole they'd been fighting to cover. Grasping the edge of those shingles that surrounded the opening was the only handhold on the roof other than the weather vane that had just been zapped.

"Jesus," Max huffed.

He strained to pull her back, and Bree was finally able to dig in a heel and push to help.

"Thank you," she breathed, wiping her hair away from her face.

He didn't let go, still trying to haul her higher onto the incline of the roof by the back of her shirt. He tried to bend his bad knee to get better purchase, and Bree saw how he winced, then grit his teeth and made it bend so that he could use his leg muscles, as well as his arms, to pull her up.

"Holy c.r.a.p," she panted as she was able to get her hands and both feet under her to also push.

She gave a hard thrust with her feet and felt the hold on her shirt give as she b.u.mped into Max. But too late, she realized that he was pitching backward.

He stumbled, failed to get his leg under him, and fell onto the tarp. Directly over where it was covering the hole.

The toolbox, wrenches, and other items from his truck had been fighting the good fight against the wind, but they were no match for two hundred pounds of falling man.

"Max!" Bree screamed as the tarp molded around him and he went through the hole.