Rainbow's End. Irene Hannon
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direction, he’d have missed it.
Once upon a time, Keith would have attributed such a coincidence to Providence. Now, he just considered it good luck. Or perhaps bad, depending on what he found at the end of the rutted gravel lane beside the mailbox, he amended. But he was bone-weary. And at least the steep, tiny byway that wound up into the woods held out the hope of shelter from the storm. At this point, he didn’t even care about eccentric widows, stray cats or old newspapers. All he cared about was a protected place to wait out the storm.
He just hoped it was dry.
At first, Jill didn’t notice the thumping sound that blended in with the unremitting rumble of the thunder. But when thumping turned to pounding, she realized that there was a person on the other side of her front door. An impatient person, if the increasingly aggressive banging was any indication.
Considering her scarcity of visitors, Jill could only stare at the door, dumbfounded. Madeleine from the art gallery had stopped by two weeks before, but no one had set foot on her property since. Unless you counted the little boy earlier today. But he hardly qualified as a visitor, considering he’d stayed on the perimeter of her land and avoided contact. Unlike the person on the other side of her door, who was making it clear that contact was his or her precise intent.
Another crash of thunder boomed through the dark house, and Jill jerked, sending a beam from the flashlight in her hand bouncing off the opposite wall. Without electricity, the warm, comforting home she’d created was dim and shadowy. She’d put a battery-operated torch on the kitchen table, and another on the table at the base of the stairs. But they didn’t provide enough light to dispel the gloom, or make her feel very secure.
This sense of edginess, of unease, was new. Despite her isolated location, she’d never worried about her safety. Not once in her two years on the island. Then again, she’d never had a visitor at night in the middle of a raging storm. But her caller was knocking, she reminded herself. People who were up to no good wouldn’t announce their presence.
Her concern abating, Jill walked to the door, pausing to peer through the sheer curtains that hung at the window beside it. The visitor standing on the porch was hidden from her view, but she could see the blurred outlines of a car pulled up beside the steps. As she reached for the lock, she tried to think of some reason why anyone in their right mind would drive all the way out to her place in this kind of weather. When she couldn’t come up with even one, her hand faltered.
All at once the pounding started again. “Hey, if you can hear me in there, please answer the door!”
A man’s voice. An irritated man’s voice. Jill’s hand fell to her side and she took a quick step back. Perhaps she should just ignore him. If she didn’t respond, he’d assume no one was home and go away, wouldn’t he? Then she’d be safe. Holding her breath, she leaned closer, listening for evidence of retreat.
Instead, as the silence lengthened, she heard a heavy sigh of frustration—audible even over the sounds of the storm.
“Look, a woman at the grocery store in Eastsound said you might have a cabin I could rent for the night,” the man called out. “She tried to phone, but your line is out. I really need a place to stay.”
This time, Jill heard the weariness in his voice. The I’ve-had-about-all-I-can-take-before-I-fold tone. Only someone who’d been there would discern it beneath the thick coating of frustration.
Closing her eyes, she sent a plea heavenward. Lord, my heart tells me to help this man. He sounds like he’s in need of kindness. Please keep me safe as I follow the example of the Good Samaritan.
With sudden resolve, Jill tucked the flashlight under her arm and flipped back the dead bolt. But she kept the chain in place, cracking the door no more than the sturdy links would allow. Since the man on the other side was in shadows, she aimed the flashlight at his face.
Muttering something she couldn’t make out, he threw up his hands to deflect the intense beam of light. “Could you lower that a little? Try aiming at my chest.” His tone was gruff, but he sounded more relieved than angry.
A flush rose on Jill’s cheeks as she complied with the stranger’s request. “Sorry.”
A couple of beats ticked by before he moved his hands aside, as if he was afraid she might pin him with the light again. Then he stared back at her with wary, watchful, cobalt-blue eyes that seemed as uncertain about her as she was about him.
And that was plenty uncertain. Because once Jill got past his eyes, the rest of him scared her to death. Even in daylight, the man on the other side of the door would have made her nervous. His shaggy dark hair was damp and disheveled, and the stubble on his jaw was so thick she wondered if he was just unkempt—or trying to grow a beard. A leather jacket that had logged more than its share of miles sat on his broad, powerful shoulders, gapping open to reveal a chest-hugging T-shirt.
An alarm went off in her mind, and she reduced the crack in the door by the barest margin. But the man noticed. His eyes narrowed, and for a moment Jill was afraid he might try to force his way inside. Her grip tightened on the handle as she prepared to slam the door if he made one wrong move.
The tension emanating from the woman in the house was palpable, and Keith knew he had but a few heartbeats to put her at ease before she shut the door—and left him to face the raging storm with nothing but his car for shelter. Not an appealing prospect. Not when he was this close to a real roof and a dry bed. Yet he couldn’t fault her caution—or her alarm. Considering her remote location, she was wise to be careful with strangers. And he didn’t exactly look like the boy next door.
As for what she looked like—he had no idea. Although his eyes were starting to return to normal after being seared by that blinding light, all he could see through the thin crack in the door was a shadowy form. Not that her appearance mattered. The important thing was that she was his ticket to shelter…if he played his cards right. Hoping that she wasn’t too spooked by his appearance to listen to his story, he stuck his hands in his pockets and took a step back, keeping his posture as nonthreatening as possible.
“Like I said, the woman in Eastsound told me there was a cabin on the property that might be available for the night.” He did his best to sound conversational rather than desperate. “Everything else on the island is booked because of the holiday. She tried to call, but your phone seems to be out. I could sure use a place to stay. The storm’s bad.”
As if to reinforce his comment, a jagged flash of lightning strobed the sky, followed by a boom of thunder that rattled the window beside Jill. In the wake of that aerial display, the rain intensified. The wind was sweeping sheets of it over the porch railing. Beads of water glistened on the man’s leather jacket, and he took his hands out of his pockets to turn up the collar. Yet he didn’t step closer, even though such a move would have offered him more protection from the rain.
The notion of having this strange man on her property was disconcerting, but Jill saw no recourse. She couldn’t send him back into the storm. That would go against every principle of her faith. And the cabin was on the other side of the meadow, after all. It wasn’t as if she was opening her door and bringing a stranger under her own roof. Still, she hesitated.
When the woman didn’t react to his first entreaty, Keith tried again. “I know you don’t usually rent the cabin, but could you make an exception for one night? I’m willing to pay whatever you think is fair.”
Taking a deep breath, and praying that she was making the right decision, Jill spoke at last. “No…I mean, yes, you can stay there. But there’s no charge. You’re welcome to use it for the night. I’ll get the key.”
Before he could respond, the door shut and Keith heard the lock click back into place. Surprised by her sudden acquiescence, he stared at the closed door, letting his good luck sink in. He had a place to stay. A haven from the storm. The tense muscles in his shoulders began to ease, and he let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The woman who lived in this house might be eccentric, but she had compassion. Bless her for her kindness, Lord.
Twin