Before the Storm by Diane Chamberlain Read Free Book Online Page B

away from us, taking
    off at a run.
    “Is his mother with—” Laurel called after him, but he was
    already halfway down the hall.
    Laurel pressed those shaky hands to her eyes. “Poor Sara.”
    “Yeah,” I said. “I’m just thankful Andy’s okay.”
    “Oh, Marcus.” She looked at me. Right at me. More than a
    half second this time. “I was so scared,” she said.
    “Me, too.”
    I wanted to wrap my arms around her. I needed the comfort
    as much as I needed to comfort her. I knew better, though.
    She’d stiffen. Pull away. So I settled for resting my hand on her
    back again as we headed toward the treatment area and Andy’s
    bed.

Chapter Five
Laurel
    1984
    JAMIE LOCKWOOD CHANGED ME. For one thing, I could
    never again look at a man on a motorcycle without wondering what lay deep inside him. The tougher the exterior, the
    greater the number of tattoos, the thicker the leather, the
    more I’d speculate about his soul. But Jamie also taught me
    about love and passion and, without ever meaning to, about
    guilt and grief. They were lessons I’d never be able to forget.
    I was eighteen and starting my freshman year at the University of North Carolina when I met him. I was pulling out
    of a parking space on a Wilmington street in my three-monthold Honda Civic. The red Civic was a graduation present from
    my aunt and uncle—technically my adoptive parents—who

    before the storm
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    made up for their emotional parsimony through their generosity in tangible goods. I checked my side mirror—all clear—
    turned my steering wheel to the left, and gave the car some
    gas. I felt a sudden thwack against my door and a meteor of
    black leather and blue denim streaked through the air next to
    my window.
    I screamed and screamed, startled by the volume of my own
    voice but unable to stop. I struggled to open my door without
    success, because the motorcycle was propped against it. By the
    time I escaped through the passenger door, the biker was
    getting to his feet. He was huge pillar of a man, and if I’d been
    thinking straight, I might have been afraid to approach him.
    What if he was a Hells Angel? But all I could think about was
    that I’d hurt someone. I could have killed him.
    “Oh my God!” I ran toward him, moving on sheer adrenaline. The man stood with his side to me, rolling his shoulders
    and flexing his arms as if checking to see that everything still
    worked. I stopped a few feet short of him. “I’m so sorry. I
    didn’t see you. Are you all right?”
    A few people circled around us, hanging back as if waiting
    to see what would happen.
    “I think I’ll live.” The Hells Angel unstrapped his white
    helmet and took it off, and a tumble of dark hair fell to his
    shoulders. He studied a wide black scrape that ran along the
    side of the helmet. “Man,” he said. “I’ve got to send a testimonial to this manufacturer. D’you believe this? It’s not even
    dented.” He held the helmet in front of me, but all I saw was
    that the leather on his right sleeve was torn to shreds.
    “I checked my mirror, but I was looking for a car,” I said.
    “I’m so sorry. I somehow missed seeing you.”

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    diane chamberlain
    “You need to watch for cyclists!” A woman shouted from
    the sidewalk. “That could have been my son on his bike!”
    “I know! I know!” I hugged my arms. “It was my fault.”
    The Hells Angel looked at the woman. “You don’t need to
    rag on her,” he said. “She won’t make the same mistake twice.”
    Then, more quietly, he spoke to me. “Will you?”
    I shook my head. I thought I might throw up.
    “Let’s, uh—” he surveyed the scene “—let me check out my
    bike, and you back your car up to the curb and we can get each
    other’s insurance info, all right?” His accent was pure Wilmington, unlike mine.
    I nodded. “Okay.”
    He lifted his motorcycle from in front of my door, which
    was dented and scraped but opened with only a little difficulty,
    and I got in. I