The Weather Girl
Auteur·e
Amy Vastine
Lectures
17,1K
Chapitres
20
Chapter One
“IT’S ANOTHER SCORCHER out there, Abilene. All across the Big Country, we’re looking at upper nineties today and throughout the rest of the week. There’s no relief from this drought in sight.”
Summer shut off the radio and shook her head. Had no one ever heard of lower troposphere instability? Once again, the responsibility to set everyone straight fell solidly on her shoulders.
Storm waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs. She gave him a pat on his big, block head. “You can tell it’s going to rain today. Can’t you, boy?” The giant black Lab wagged his tail and barked once in agreement. When she was growing up, Summer’s daddy always told her animals had a sixth sense about weather. It often made her wonder if she was born with some genetic abnormality that made her more like her trusted pet than the rest of the human race.
She sprinkled a little fish food in Isaac’s tank and bid Storm farewell, snagging her umbrella on the way out the door. She’d need it today, despite what the weatherman on the radio said. Summer Raines always knew when it was going to rain, no matter what the computer models predicted or how cloudless the sky looked. She could feel it.
* * *
KLVA WAS BUZZING with an unusual energy when Summer arrived at the station. The new sports anchor had started today and everyone was giddy about it. The men were grouped together, enthusiastically reminiscing about game-changing plays and state championships. The women giggled and postured. Hair was big and clothes were tight today. The new guy was somewhat of a legend in these parts, born and raised in Sweetwater, and he played ball for Texas. The man’s broadcasting experience was all on the other side of the microphone. He had held countless press conferences, only not as the press. Nobody else seemed to care his résumé consisted of nothing but football stats. For whatever reason, he was a big deal. A very big deal.
Ken Collins, the station director, believed this addition to the news team was going to give KLVA’s ratings a major boost. Summer tried to focus on the positive. The former sports guy had been forced into early retirement. Bud Lawson gave her the creeps. His suits smelled like cigarettes and cheese and he thought it was completely appropriate to tell Summer he’d fantasized about her in a Dallas Cowboys cheerleading outfit. Even more disturbing, he’d attempted to pat her behind more than once. Summer spent a ridiculous amount of time and energy making sure her back was never turned to Bud.
Ken came to a dead stop in front of Summer and the umbrella resting against her desk. “When did you say it was going to rain? Richard didn’t say that this morning. He said sunny and ninety. No rain. I washed my car on the way here.”
She shrugged and Ken threw his hands up. “I only got the feeling before leaving the house,” she explained. “Computer models say I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure the winds are shifting.”
“Great,” he said with a huff. “Can you text me the next time you get a feeling after the morning forecast? Please?”
“Will do, boss.” Summer smiled as he shouted that they’d all better be ready for the staff meeting in ten minutes. Not everyone believed in Summer’s abilities, but Ken and the leather interior of his convertible had learned the hard way that she often knew more than the average meteorologist.
“What are you wearing?” Rachel Crow came zooming across the newsroom, headed straight for Summer’s desk. She was the station’s most popular news anchor, beautiful and polished. On the air, she had the sweetest Southern disposition. Behind the scenes, however, she was a bit more...tenacious.
Summer looked down at her favorite silk top. It reminded her of Texas bluebonnets and matched the color of her eyes. “Clothes?”
Rachel was not amused. “What color are you wearing?”
“Blue.”
“Yes! Yes, you’re wearing blue!” Rachel tucked her auburn hair behind her ears as she looked around to make sure no one could overhear. “Do you know what color the Chicago Bears are?”
Summer didn’t even know who the Chicago Bears were. “Blue?” she guessed.
“Blue,” Rachel repeated solemnly. “Did you think about that when you got dressed this morning? Today, of all days?” Summer would have felt guilty if she had any clue what Rachel was talking about.
“I guess I wasn’t thinking.”
“Obviously.”
“Hopefully you’ll be able to forgive me.”
“It’s not my forgiveness you should be seeking, sugar. Not mine.” Rachel shook her head and walked back to her desk.
Summer didn’t have the time to worry about why the color blue and Chicago and bears were somehow the root of all evil today. She opened an email from her parents’ friend Ryan Kimball about a tropical depression off the coast of Haiti that had turned into a tropical storm overnight. Ryan produced a storm-chasing show on the Discovery Channel that she watched religiously. He sent her the best pictures to post on KLVA’s weather site since he was still out there, living the life her parents had lived until their untimely passing. He emailed her often, reminding her that storm chasing was in her blood, and she was kidding herself if she thought she could stay away forever.
“Looking up new ways to make sunny and ninety sound interesting?” a voice asked over Summer’s shoulder. She spun in her seat and found her nemesis and fellow meteorologist, Richard Mitchell, appearing disheveled. He had removed his Dillard’s Big and Tall suit coat, and his tie hung loosely around his neck. Richard was a large man who always seemed to be suffering in the Texas heat. The sweat stains on the armpits of his shirt made Summer cringe.
“I was checking on that tropical storm off the coast of—”
He cut in before she could finish. “I’m pretty sure the good people of Abilene couldn’t care less about a tropical storm in the middle of nowhere. Unless, of course, you plan on telling them it’s headed this way.”
Richard’s dislike of Summer was completely unjustified, if you asked her. She had earned the five and ten o’clock spots fair and square. She did her job well and people just plain liked her better than him. KLVA jumped to number two, ratingswise, when Summer switched from mornings to evenings.
“Well, as a matter of fact...” She glanced down at her bright red umbrella.
Richard’s beady eyes widened. “There’s no storm headed our way, Summer,” he hissed. “If you go on the air and report that, you’ll make a fool of yourself and this station!”
She glared at him. “There’s only one fool in our department, and it’s not me. Don’t worry, I’ll take full credit for my prediction and let our viewers know you thought differently.”
Richard’s face was redder than a July tomato. He pointed a thick, stubby finger at her. “You... You better watch yourself!” She laughed as he stomped off. “And don’t you dare mention my name!” He shouted his idle threat over his shoulder. Richard could hate her all he wanted, but he knew if she thought it was going to rain, it most definitely would.
Ken came out of his office and called for everyone’s attention. “All right, as most of you know, we have a new member to welcome to the KLVA team. Travis, come on over here.”
Summer rolled her chair a little to the left to catch a glimpse of this supposed god among men. He emerged from the huddle of guys who had been reliving his glory days when she walked in. Travis was young, about Summer’s age. His sandy blond hair sat on his head like a mop. The boy needed a haircut, but he wore a suit better than anyone else in the newsroom, perhaps in all of Texas. His broad shoulders and long legs made him a star on the field; his pearly white teeth and adorable dimples made him shine off-field. Her colleagues’ big hair and tight clothes made sense now. Travis was a lady-killer.
Ken patted him on the back and squeezed his mammoth shoulder. “I am more than proud to officially introduce Travis Lockwood, our new evening sports anchor.” More clapping, hooting and hollering took place.
Summer would admit he was cute, but this kind of welcome was unheard of around here. There was work to be done. She couldn’t stop herself from opening The Weather Channel’s website for a quick peek at the national map while Ken blathered on and on about Travis. She’d just clicked on a headline about how the drought was affecting the butterfly population when she heard her name.
“Right, Summer? I’m sure you can make that work.”
Ken was looking at her expectantly. “Can you repeat that, Ken? It’s hard to hear y’all over here with the fan going.” She pointed at the large oscillating fan blowing on Richard a few cubicles over.
“I said we’re going to take thirty seconds from the weather segment and give it to Travis for the first couple weeks. Give him some time to really connect with the audience.” Ken turned his attention back to Travis. “They’re gonna love you, son.”
Thirty seconds? Summer barely had enough time as it was to fit in everything she wanted to cover. She’d spent hours trimming here and there so she could add a segment she liked to call “Today in Weather History.” She’d been gathering interesting weather facts for weeks. They could not take thirty seconds from her and give them to some stupid, former football player.
“I can’t give you thirty seconds,” she said over the din. The room immediately fell silent. All eyes were on Summer.
“What’s that?” Ken’s smile disappeared and his right eyebrow twitched. He didn’t like being told no.
Summer cleared her throat and dug down deep for the courage she’d inherited from her parents. “I’ve been working on this special segment, and I need all the time I’ve been allotted. I don’t have thirty seconds to give to sports.”
Ken put his hands on his hips and looked down at his feet. Summer could see him wrestling with himself to stay polite. He raised his head and met Summer’s stare. “That’s all well and good, but your special segment is going to take a backseat to Travis right now. Everyone needs to be flexible here.”
“Well, it seems to me, I’m the only one being asked to bend. Sports already gets a minute more than weather. It’s not fair.”
Ken laughed and scratched his head. “Life’s not fair, Summer. Didn’t your mama ever teach you that? My decision is final.”
The entire newsroom looked back at Summer, waiting for her to do something stupid, like argue with him. But she kept her mouth shut, Ken ended the meeting and everyone went back to work. Everyone except Summer. She needed time to stew, her anger and frustration heating her body from the inside out.
Her sulk was quickly interrupted by one Mr. Lockwood. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Travis Lockwood.” His outstretched hand waited for hers. Summer glared at it before her manners got the best of her and she extended her hand.
“Summer Raines.” She left off her usual “pleasure to meet you.” She was madder than a wet hen but was determined to maintain her composure.
“Summer Raines, the weather girl,” he said with a chuckle. “That’s a good one. Who came up with that name?”
“My parents,” she replied flatly, turning her attention back to the suffering butterfly population. “And my title is meteorologist. Not weather girl.”
He had the nerve to appear abashed. “Sorry. No disrespect intended. Weather girl just fits better. You’re cute, it’s cute. Meteorologist sounds old and decrepit. More like...” He tipped his head in the direction of the noisy fan. “...that guy.”
Summer refused to laugh, even if he was funny. She was also going to ignore that he’d called her cute. “All right, well, some of us need to get back to work on cutting thirty seconds from our report.”
“I’m real sorry about that. I am. I don’t want to step on any toes. Ken has high hopes for me, but I’m a team player. I promise you.” He sat on the edge of her desk, oblivious of the cold shoulder she was attempting to give him.
She looked over at him. Those dimples were almost too much. It didn’t help that he smelled good, like sunshine and soap. Besides the messy hair, he was the epitome of the all-American guy. A big, strong man with a chiseled jaw and a six-pack under his white dress shirt. He probably had a cheerleader at home and two more on the side. Summer was going to steer clear. Men like him were nothing but trouble. Then she looked into his eyes. They were the color of the sky just before it rained. His mouth smiled, but his eyes carried his storm. Whatever the trouble was, she suddenly felt guilty for being unkind.
She sighed. “It’s fine. It’s not your fault. My issue is with Ken.”
Travis brightened instantly. “Good. I’m glad there aren’t any hard feelings between us.”
Nope, no hard feelings. No feelings at all. He could go be cute and charming somewhere else. But he didn’t move. He sat there, staring at her. His attention made her nervous. When Summer got nervous, her brain did unusual things. “Did you know that even though most of the country has been dealing with excessive heat and drought conditions, Anchorage had its coldest July on record?”
Instead of wandering away confused and annoyed the way everyone else did when she spouted random facts, Travis leaned forward, looking interested. “Really? That’s weird, huh?”
“Travis!” Rachel sashayed over, hand on hip and lipstick newly applied. “Now, don’t you worry your pretty little head about Summer. She’s the only one in Abilene who cares more about weather than football. Want me to give you a private tour of the studio before we go on the air?”
“Sure.” Travis stood up and turned his attention back to the weather girl. “Looking forward to working with you, Summer.”
She nodded. “I’m sure it’s going to be great.”
Rachel pursed her lips and scrunched up her nose. Be nice, she mouthed silently from behind Travis. The two of them left Summer alone with her discontented thoughts.
Had she really just let Travis the Time Stealer make her nervous? Did he really think he could turn on the charm and hope all would be forgiven? No way. Summer was going to find a way to reclaim her thirty seconds. One way or another, she would get her “This Day in Weather History” segment. Travis and Ken could count on that.
* * *
BY THE TIME the five o’clock news rolled around, dusty gray clouds had moved in over Abilene and the rest of Big Country. Even though none of the computer models were predicting rain, Summer was going to promise some. During the commercial before her report, Travis walked by the green screen.
“Do y’all say break a leg or something before you go on?”
“Um, no. No one says that,” Summer replied, trying not to laugh. The sound assistant adjusted her mic while Pete, one of the engineering techs, made sure the lighting was right.
“Well, good luck, then, Weather Girl.” Travis started to walk toward the news desk but stopped. “You should wear blue every day.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Huh?”
“It looks nice. Makes your eyes stand out.” He pointed at her face as though she’d forgotten where her eyes were located. “You have amazing eyes.”
Summer was momentarily speechless. She looked over at a scowling Rachel, who practically had smoke blowing out her ears. “Funny. I was actually encouraged not to wear blue today. It kills bears in Chicago or something.”
Rachel pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. Travis’s brow furrowed. “The color blue kills bears? For real?”
“I think. Maybe not. I heard that somewhere, but that person was probably wrong because why in the world would blue have anything to do with bears? I mean, that makes no sense, right? I’m sure bears like blue,” Summer rambled. How she wished she’d remained speechless. Her nerves took over. “Did you know that even though Chicago is called the Windy City, it doesn’t even rank in the top ten windiest cities in the U.S.?”
“Really?”
“Really. Blue Hill, Massachusetts, is actually the windiest city.”
“Blue Hill?” Travis smiled. “Are you messin’ with me?”
“I never mess around about the weather.”
“Ten seconds,” the director called out. “Places, everyone.”
Summer shook her head, trying to clear it of all this nonsense brought on by the man who needed an extra thirty seconds. She closed her eyes and pictured an F5 tornado blowing through town and taking Richard, Ken, Rachel and Travis with it. Once all the troublemakers in her life were swept away by her imaginary tornado, Summer felt back in control. She opened her eyes just as the light above the camera turned on.
Summer cut the national outlook out of her segment and somehow managed to fit her entire forecast into the little time she’d been given.
“Everyone, including the National Weather Service, says we shouldn’t expect precipitation anytime soon. But, believe it or not, I say the rain will fall tonight across most of West Central Texas,” she said, ending her report over at the news desk.
“Well, if Summer Raines says we’re going to get some unexpected showers, I’ll be grabbing my umbrella on the way out tonight, for sure.” Rachel shot a big, fake smile into the camera. No one would believe she was staring daggers at Summer a few minutes ago.
“I do so appreciate your faith in me, Rachel,” Summer returned sweetly.
The control room switched to Camera 2 so Rachel and Brian could introduce Travis. Summer hung around to watch, something she’d never done when Bud was on the air. Travis was nervous and it showed. Sweat made his moppy hair stick to his forehead. He fluctuated between speaking too fast and not fast enough. Maybe he was one of those athletes who’d been pushed through school without having to actually learn things, like how to read. That or the words on the Teleprompter were written in Chinese. He saved himself a little when he bantered with Rachel and Brian. He was better unscripted.
By the ten o’clock newscast, someone must have given him a few pointers. He managed to maintain a stable rate of speech, though it was still too fast. He ad-libbed more and wiped the sweat off his forehead during the highlight clips.
The viewers—and their colleagues—would probably still love him. People cut guys like Travis more slack than they deserved. If he ever figured out how to read, Summer would have to kiss her thirty seconds goodbye for good. She hung out in the Stormwatch Room, avoiding being seen in the newsroom sulking. She checked up on the storm in the Atlantic that had picked up enough speed to be classified as a hurricane. It would die out at sea, though. This day in weather history, Hurricane Nadine raged and whipped across the water. It maxed out at wind speeds of eighty-five miles per hour. No one in Abilene would ever know about it because all they cared about were Travis Lockwood’s thoughts on the Dallas Cowboys’ preseason.
The lights were low in the newsroom when Summer finally dared to show her face. All the producers and writers had gone home for the night. Ken’s office was lit up behind drawn shades. He was likely congratulating himself with a glass of his secret whiskey he only broke out on special occasions. Still feeling defeated, Summer shut down her computer and picked up her bag and umbrella.
“You heading home?”
She jumped. Travis was leaning against the wall across from the elevators, somehow still managing to look as if he just stepped off the pages of GQ.
“It’s about that time, I guess.” She fiddled with her umbrella, spinning it on its pointy tip.
“You really can tell when it’s going to rain? Even when the computers say differently?”
“What do computers really know?” Summer shot back. “Sometimes I think people have forgotten how to trust those feelings we all get. That tickle on the back of your neck right before something bad happens. The knot in your gut when something’s not right. The way your heart tells you to stay or go.”
The elevator arrived and the doors opened. Travis pushed off the wall and followed Summer inside. “Hearts can be fickle. Hard to trust,” he said. His eyes stayed focused on the numbers above the door as they lit up.
“True.” Summer’s heart had played a trick or two on her before. “But usually we aren’t listening close enough.”
Travis nodded. That storm inside him had done some damage, that much was clear.
“So, was reporting about sports all you imagined it would be?” she asked as they reached the bottom floor. The doors opened and they made their way to the exit.
“I thought those who can’t play can at least talk about it. Turns out it’s harder than people like you make it look.”
“You did fine,” she said, to be polite.
“I was terrible.”
Summer couldn’t argue with his self-assessment. She almost felt bad for him until he held open the door for her and took note of the very dry parking lot.
“I don’t know, Weather Girl. I think you might be losing your touch.”
Summer couldn’t hold back her grin as the thunder rumbled overhead. She opened her big red umbrella and stepped outside. The skies let go, raindrops sending tiny dust clouds into the air where they hit the pavement. “What was that?” she asked. She cupped her ear with her free hand. “I can’t hear you over the rain and thunder.”
“Aren’t you going to offer to walk me to my car?” he shouted as she slowly backed away.
“I think you might be losing your touch, Lady-killer.” She picked up the pace. “Good night!”
It wasn’t a tornado, but watching Travis Lockwood get soaked to the bone as he ran to his fancy black sports car kind of made Summer’s day.
