This chapter is in Jacks Point of view.

God, how I do hate bad weather. Summer, I prefer to call it Hurricane season

Right now George and I are working like there's no tomorrow, we need to prepare the farm for the incoming hurricane Jane. Its due to arrive within the next four hours. I can hear its roar already, the opening chorus for disaster, I've been through many of these storms, and this is shaping up to be one of the worst I've seen. The sky is a charcoal black as I stare up at it. I know I really shouldn't take the time to look up at it, but I feel strangely compelled to.

"The rain will be on soon." I conclude.

"What's that old timer?" asks George

"We need to hurry kid, its nearly upon us." I yelled to him.

I could now feel the wind beginning to pick itself up to that piercing howl, everyone associates with a hurricane Jane. I can feel my hair waving about, a minor annoyance compared to what will happen should the farm be hit while it isn't properly locked down. We'd worked on boarding up the chicken coop as soon as we heard the alert on TV, but I always have a gloomy feeling that I'll make a mistake and an animal will die because of it. That's never happened to me yet; I'm one of these people who like to be well prepared. I've always boarded up the Barn, Chicken coop (after I've moved the chickens into the barn for safety, with generous amounts of feed and fodder inc case the storm drags on.) then I head back to my house and seal it from all of humanity. Then, I would usually just try to sleep. Of course that isn't an easy thing to do considering that the piercing roar of the wind itself is very off putting, but I do try you know?

This time I knew it was going to be different. I had someone's company through the storm; George had decided he was going to wait it out, something tells me his parents have been arguing again, they always do that I'm told, but I don't like to pry into others lives. It's not in me; I don't have this desire to know what's going on. All I care is if it affects my farm or me. I crave the simple life, nothing more, and nothing else. I can see myself passing away on Old Summers just like Grandfather did. I'm too old now to move onwards and upwards, so I've decided to stay where I am.

As soon as we came in, we nailed the door shut. Then I started a fire, I knew we would be in for a rough time, as my joints were aching in the way that says to me: 'Bad weather astern Jack'. You young 'uns may not understand this, but you will someday when you grow old yourself. I went over the cabinet, and took out the whiskey and some glasses. George was dragging one of the chairs over to the Television set, so we could watch the only godamn functioning station during these storms; the Alert Station, it always has the same boring gentlemen telling us in a monotone voice that the storm is expected to cause severe damage to the Isles off the mainland, Bah! What a fool! Of course there'll be damage! It's a bloody storm! What do they expect? Clear skies? Sometimes I wonder if those reports about broadcasting being dumbed down is true. Ai yi yi yi... I honestly wonder about these broadcasters sometimes, do they have a life? And is it fulfilling? I think they spend all their time in a studio waiting for these things to happen. Then they bore us the viewers to tears. Then the signal goes off, which is time to go to sleep for me if I can.

I turn to George, and ask him if he drinks. He tells me yes, so I pour him a whiskey as well. We then both take up a seat at the TV set listening to that idiot broadcaster talking about how the storm is a real monster. To pass the time I challenge George to a game of chess, it takes your mind off what's going on around you. It's only you, your opponent and the game. George's a pretty good player, and he crushes me, in no time at all. I'm not going to resent him the match, he was better than me.

"And the damage is expected to be ver--------------- -- -- -- - -- -"

We lost the signal on the TV, which can me only one thing; she's here. Hurricane Jane is upon us at last. I can hear her vile roar engulfing the farm, it intensifying every second. For a while we sat in silence, then George struck up a conversation. We spent a lot of time talking idle chat; you know trivial things like how the inn cooks such good food, that the animals will be ok, our plans for the next year and what to do next. Eventually George came round to more personal topics, he told me that his Father keeps telling him, to drop his work here and become his apprentice. George also kept saying that they constantly argue. I didn't interrupt him since I didn't have anything to say. Not from the lack of wanting to but I didn't want him to keep this venom stored up. My own past tells me that it isn't a good thing, and I don't want him to make the same mistakes as I did. Then George asked me that question. The question, which burns in my mind this very second.

"Jack, did you ever love someone?"

The question rang of old memories and broken hearts and dreams from long ago.

At first I didn't want to answer it, but denying the past is never a good thing. It makes you who you are, who you were and what you will be. That question dug up memories that hold a small place in my mind, and a big place in my heart. I ache with the pains of regrets, too many to count. To answer his question I have to go back to the day I first came here. I fix him an icy stare and tell him the whole pathetic story.

My story... it goes like this.

When I came to my grandfather's village after he'd died all those years ago, I had a choice to make after his funeral, grandpa had left a will, and part of the contents concerned me.

It said:

"The Old Summers farm I bequeath to my grandson, providing he accepts, if he refuses, then I will pass the title deeds to Thomas Manderson Mayor of Mineral Town, to do with whatever he deems the right thing."

It meant I had to make my own choice; if I took over then the farm I would save it from demolition, if I didn't then who knows what would happen, for all I knew they could build an amusement park to attract tourists, I knew the economy in town was pretty poor, due to a downturn in trade due my Grandfather being unable to work during his last few years. Trouble was I didn't want to give up on things at home, I wanted to live in the city, not the country, on the other hand I couldn't envision Grandpas farm being demolished, it had always been a pillar to me, throughout my life, it seemed more real and solid to me than my parents ever did. They just gave up on me at fifteen when they broke up, Mum left town, and Dad... he despaired at this and just folded in on himself, he drunk himself to sleep everynight. I gave up on them both. But I still couldn't make my mind up, I asked for an hour to clear my thoughts and think up an answer. I made my way to what seemed to be the secluded place in town. I went to the library, the sign said it was open, and I figured most of the people in this town never really wanted to read. It was there I first met her.

I can remember the libray when I first saw its beauty, it was resplendent with its carpet, ornately carved staircase leading to the second floor. There was a girl standing with her back to the door, I could tell her name from the card on the very plain receptionist's desk to the right of me. It was 'Mary'. Your mother and she was weeping.

I'm going on vacation for a week, so there won't be any updates for the week due to there being no access to a computer.
Please, give me your thoughts on this story, what you like or dislike about it. Or what you think you could be improved.