Beneath the Almond Tree

Chapter 7 : THE STORM

The day went by,everyone went home so happy,it was just like a reunion in the village.Suddenly,it felt like the heavens was also happy with them ,the sky darkened long before the clouds opened up. It was the kind of hush that fell over the land before,something big-a silence that prickled the skin,that made even the birds vanish into the trees.

Elena stood at the edge of the old wooden porch,her arms wrapped around herself as if she could shield her heart from what was coming.Beyond the fields, the horizon pulsed the distant lightning,white veins threading through thick charcoal clouds. The wind had picked up,scattering dust and leaves across the path like nature trying to gather itself before unraveling.

It had been years since a storm like this swept through the land.That one had taken the old barn and most of the orchard.This one,she feared,would take more.

As the first drops of rain began to fall, she took one last look outside. The air smelled electric. The tall pines at the edge of the field danced wildly,bowing and swaying like mourners at a funeral.

Then the wind howled,and the storm broke.

It came not like a guest, but like an army.

Rain lashed against the house in sheets,rattling the windows in every gust.Thunder cracked so close, it felt like the sky was being torn open above them. The lights flickered once,twice-then gave out,plunging the house into the flickering amber of candlelight.

Elena found herself sitting beside her grandmother in the living room,a wool blanket pulled over their legs.

“I remember the flood of ‘85,”her grandmother said,not loudly. “Water came up to the porch.It made us sleep on the attic floor.Whole fields went under.Took us years to fix what we lost.”

Elena didn’t answer. The thunder spoke for her.

She turned her head toward her,eyes catching a flash of lightning. “Funny thing about storms,”she said. “They strip everything down. You learn real quick what matters.”

Another gust of wind slammed into the house. The walls groaned.Somewhere upstairs,a shutter banged open and shut with frantic urgency.Elena stood up urgently. “I’II get it.”

Grandma tried to stop her,but she was already halfway up the staircase.

The second floor was colder,darker.Her flashlight beam cut across the hallway like a blade,illuminating only fragments-the family portraits, the floral wallpaper faded from sun and time.

In her bedroom, the window had blown.Rain soaked the hardwood floor and the white lace curtains thrashed like ghosts.Elena wrestled the shutter closed and latched it with effort.Then she stood there,still for a moment,her breath fogging the glass.

Outside, the fields looked like a sea,waves of water and wind rolling over the crops and grass. The almond trees bent under the pressure,their blossoms long gone but their roots holding fast.

By the time she returned downstairs,her grandmother was asleep in her chair ,arms crossed over her chest like she was keeping watch even in her dream.

Just as the day went by,Elena and Luca love began to bloom again,news from Florence disrupted their peace.A gallery wanted to feature Elena’s work for a year-long residency.It was everything she had dreamed of.

She felt torn between a past she cherished and a future she’d fought for.

Beneath the almond tree she told Luca.He smiled,but his eyes betrayed his fear.

“You should go,”he said.

“I don’t want to leave you,”she replied.

“Then don’t,” he said softly. “But I wouldn’t want to be the reason you stay.”

“Which storm hit really hard?”

“Is it the storm from the rain or the storm of having to choose her past or future?”Which is.