Rain pelted the roof of her van. The drops sounded like coins falling onto the metal roof, and she liked the noise. Hearing the rain fall so loudly made her feel like the world was smaller than she knew it was. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, giving her a sudden, eerily clear glimpse of the road in front of her. One one-thousand. Two one-thousand. Thunder rumbled, loud and long. The storm was close.
Mary turned off of the highway and down the dirt lane, gritting her teeth against the violent bumping and jostling. Lightning flashed. One one-thousand, she counted as she pulled into the rocky driveway. Thunder echoed through the night.
She turned the car off and sat there for a moment, listening. The rain washed down her windshield, distorting her view of the house. Mary grabbed her coat and pulled it over her head.
The wind met her fiercely outside, knocking her against the car. She slammed the door shut and pulled her jacket tighter as cold rain stung her face. She raced onto the rickety porch and banged her fist on the door.
The woman who answered seemed older and frailer than Mary remembered. “Hi, mom,” Mary said, hesitatingly. They went into the house together.
Mary sat uncomfortably on the floral-patterned couch as her mother made tea in the kitchen. A smiling picture of the three of them together—mom, dad, and little Mary—stared at her from across the room. The wind picked up again outside, howling through the dense trees that surrounded the house. Lightning and thunder struck simultaneously this time, shaking the old house. The storm had arrived.
Her mother came in and handed Mary a steaming mug. Mary took a sip, but it didn’t warm her.
“We missed you at the funeral,” her mother said.
“They never found his body,” Mary said suddenly, looking up. “He could still be out there. They don’t know—”
“We always knew his job had risks. You have to face it, Mary. Your father is dead.”