Whisper, why couldn't I have met you instead of him?

I am driving my car back to the city with Sara's words echoing over and over in my head.

"Whisper, why couldn't I have met you instead of him?"

What was I supposed to do with that? It was just her dreams talking, not really her. If there was a chance that she might be feeling the same things that I feel for her, shouldn't I take it?

As I drive, I decide that maybe, after everything between her husband and her was over, I just might take a chance. I come to terms with my decision, when I notice lightning on the horizon in front of me. I turn on the radio and learn that an unexpected late season thunderstorm was hitting the area, and that the roads ahead were becoming dangerous.

One of the many problems with being a man is the innate need to be macho, even when there is no one else around. I drive on, straight into the oncoming storm.

After about a half mile, I turn the car around and head back to the farmhouse at a crawl. The wind was buffeting my car fiercely, and it was starting to hail as I crept the last few feet into the driveway. I bolt out of the car and into the house. Sara wakes with a start as I slam the door shut against the driving winds.

"Whisper, what's going on?" Sara said throwing off the quilt and wiping the sleep from her eyes.

"Storm. A bad one. I tried to make it home, but it's so bad I decided not to risk it" I shook the rain and hail from my jacket and hung it up.

"What...you left?" Sara asks with surprise.

"Yeah, you fell asleep. I figured you could use some time to yourself so I took off. Now, it looks like I'm stuck for the night." A thunderbolt rolls through the sky like a freight train.

Sara looks at the window, "I'm sure not going to be able to get any sleep soon."

I walk in the kitchen and turn on the stove, "Want some coffee or tea?" I ask her.

"No thanks, I'm fine. Does this T.V. work?"

I tell her it should and she turns it on and begins to look for something on the storm. After a while, I sit down in a chair beside the couch and drink some coffee as she flips between one weather report and another.

"They all say that the storm will last a couple of hours and that we haven't seen the worst of it." she said.

I put my coffee down, "At least we haven't lost..." suddenly the lights went out and the television flickered off, "...power

"Sure," said Sara, "just as it's getting dark."

We sit watching the rain and hail pelt against the window and listen as the thunder got closer and closer. It's funny waiting for a storm in the dark. When the lights are on, you don't feel the thunder as much, or hear the rain on the roof as clearly, but when you turn out the lights, everything seems bigger, louder, more violent.

After about a half hour, I notice that it was getting much colder in the house. The furnace was electric and with no power the temperature was dropping.

During the flashes of lightning, I see Sara has pulled the large quilt around her. She must have seen me as well, because she asks me, "Are you cold? Come and sit on the couch, the quilt is more than big enough for both of us."

"No thanks, I'll be fine." I say, the machismo creeping up on me again.

"Oh please, you men are all alike, first you try to drive through a hailstorm and now you aren't cold, even though it's dropped twenty degrees in here. Get your ass over here now mister."

I smile, shake my head, and feel my way through the darkness to the couch. I sit down and Sara throws the quilt over me. We sit for a time, listening to the thunder draw even closer. Sara moves down the couch to next to me. "Sorry," she says, "but I'm still cold"

I reply, "This house isn't insulated very well, it can't be more than 45 degrees."

Suddenly, I feel the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and instinctively brace myself for what was coming. The flash of light and the tremendously loud boom happen at the same time.

I see Sara's eyes go wide in the flash of light, and she grabs my arm tightly as the thunder shakes the walls of the house.

"That was close,” she says with a slight tremble in her voice.

"I think we lost the elm in the yard." I reply, craning my neck to look out the window.

Sara doesn't let go of my arm, and in fact, has pressed her body closer to me.