When Albert Miller didn’t come to the dining room for supper, Lani had a sneaking suspicion of where she’d find him. After serving up the last bowl of tonight’s dessert (strawberry crisp), she packed him a sandwich and a thermos of hot tea and headed for the Observation Deck.
Officially, the room was called the Michel G. Gillis Memorial Family Room: a large space that took up most of the second floor of St. Jeanne’s Residence, set aside for receptions and birthday parties. The room’s big bay windows on the east side boasted the best views in the entire building. Being on the upper floor in a structure built into the side of a steep hill overlooking the bay had its benefits. Not every resident made the pilgrimage to this mostly quiet corner of the St. Jeanne’s to enjoy the view, but for those who did, this space was known as the Observation Deck.
“I thought I’d find you here, Mr. Miller,” said Lani. “There’s no better place to watch a storm.”
Albert turned to examine who was speaking to him. Lani saw he had a worried look in his eye. She wasn’t entirely confident he knew who she was.
“We didn’t finish bringing in the hay from the south field,” he said.
He turned back to the window and watched the grey sky for a moment before speaking again.
“Do you know if Dad remembered to make haycocks?” he asked. “I told him it looked like rain.”
Lani knew when and where Albert was in his memories just now. He grew up on a farm on the southeast arm of St. Anne’s Island.
“Of course he did,” said Lani. “You know your dad wouldn’t let good hay go to waste.”
Albert looked at her. He stared at her face for a moment, discerning who she was and what she was saying. After a moment, the worry in his forehead eased a bit.
“Good old Dad,” he said.
“I brought you a sandwich, Mr. Miller,” she said, setting the plate on the table beside him. “Toasted tomato on white, just like you like it.”
Albert grunted.
“Is there salt and pepper?” he asked.
“Yes, there’s salt and pepper,” said Lani.
“And cheese?” he said.
“And cheese,” she repeated.
“How about lettuce?” he asked.
Lani smirked.
“See, now you’re trying to trick me,” she said. “You hate lettuce on a tomato sandwich.”
Albert picked up the plate and set it on his lap.
“You’re damn right,” he said, lifting half of the sandwich to his mouth and taking a bite.
A flash of lightning lit the grey skies out the window. They couldn’t see the actual bolt, but the light illuminated the clouds from behind.
“Going to be a big one, I think,” said Lani.
The old man nodded.
“The Summer Storm,” said Albert. “It’s been humid for weeks. That all changes today.”
Lani smiled again. She’d heard some of the residents talk about the Summer Storm. The first few weeks of summer on St. Anne’s are always hot and humid, building through mid July. Then comes the fabled Summer Storm.
The Summer Storm is the culmination of all the hot sticky weather of early summer. Every bit of energy built up over that time explodes in one giant, noisy storm. In its wake, it leaves the iconic, beautiful St. Anne’s summer of low humidity and a constant gentle breeze that will keep on blowing until the early weeks of fall.
Lani had lived on St. Anne’s enough summers to know it doesn’t always happen like that. She’d lived through hot and sticky days in August she’d dearly wished could be washed away by a giant storm. Some years, they don’t have any big thunder storms. Other years, they have two or three. And some years, it happens just like Mr. Miller describes.
“There’s the rain,” he said, after finishing a bite of sandwich. “Watch, it’ll be a nasty one.”
Albert was right. Great big drops of rain began to strike the windows of the Observation Deck. Looking down over the town of Dunnock Bay, Lani watched gusts of wind shake the treetops with great and sudden violence. There were a few cars left on the streets, but no pedestrians. The sky had gotten dark in the last 20 minutes, and most everyone had already retreated indoors.
A streak of lightning stretched across the sky. It’s light illuminated the dim room with three quick flashes. A few seconds later, a deep, hollow boom echoed from all around them.
“Wow,” said Lani.
“Is there tea in that thermos?” asked Albert.
“It sure is,” she said.
She sat slowly in the chair beside Albert, not taking her eyes off the sky for a moment. She pulled out her thermos and carefully poured Albert a cup of tea in to the screw-top lid.
“Thanks kindly,” he said, accepting the tea.
He blew gently on the surface of the drink and took a sip.
“That’s good.”
He set the tea down and turned to face Lani. He looked worried.
“The hay,” he said. “We didn’t bring in the hay from the south field.”
“Don’t worry, Mr. Miller,” said Lani. “Your dad knew there was rain coming, so he raked it into haycocks.”
“Did he?” asked Albert.
“Of course he did,” said Lani.
Albert settled back in his chair. He reached for his tea.
“Good old Dad,” he said.
The rain was really falling now.
“Look at that,” said Lani. “So much rain in such a little time.”
In the few minutes since the rain began, a river had begun to run down Hill Street. It really was incredible. What started as a trickle was now several inches deep, roaring down the hill at great speed.
Lani watched the rain coming down.
“Look at that,” she said. “It’s coming down in sheets. See it coming down over there?”
Lani pointed at an open grassy field just below St. Jeanne’s. Water fell to the ground in some spots as if thrown from a bucket.
Albert nodded.
“Reams,” he said.
“What’s that?” asked Lani.
“Reams,” he said. “My wife always said it was coming down in reams.”
Lani leaned forward.
“I’ve never heard that before,” she said. “Like reams of paper?”
“Just like that,” he said. “I think her mother said it, too. ‘Coming down in reams.’”
“I like that,” she said.
“Me too,” said Albert.
He took a sip of tea.
The two sat quietly watching the storm for the next ten minutes. There was a list of jobs Lani should have been doing, but she thought this was the kind of event that took precedence.
They both gasped as a gust of wind brought down a large branch from an elm tree on the corner. It came within meters of landing on a pick-up truck parked on the road.
Thunder boomed several times a minute at the storm’s peak. There was something both scary and comforting about thunder. The raw power of nature was terrifying, but the comfort of being safe inside felt extra nice.
After a while, the booms became more distant. The flashes became less distinct. They could see the worst of the storm moving out to sea. The rain kept falling steadily, but the wind had slowed. A bit of late-day sunlight trickled through the clouds.
“That’s it for me, Mr. Miller,” said Lani. “I better not let them catch me sitting when there’s work to be done.”
“OK then,” said Albert.
He looked at his companion. Lani could tell he still wasn’t confident who she was.
“Tell Dad we can bring in that hay in the south field when it’s dry,” he said.
“I sure will,” she said. “You enjoy the tail end of the storm.”
She left him in the Observation Deck, with a bit of the emerging light brightening up the dim space.
Lani’s shift was over shortly after. By the time she walked outside to the parking lot, the rain had ended. The ground was wet. The sky was streaked with clouds and bits of sunlight.
Lani took a deep breath. The air was cool. The humidity was low. A light, steady breeze seemed to wash over the island.
Lani stood by her car for a moment. She glanced up at the building and the windows of the Observation Deck.
“The Summer Storm,” she said quietly, before unlocking her car door.
I love a good thunder storm. We had a quick one run across PEI this week one day during my work day. I was in a meeting when the worst of it went overhead.
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Have a great week. <3 Davy