Читать книгу Mother Of Prevention - Lori Copeland - Страница 9

Since Neil had died I had been knee-deep in paperwork. I had no idea there was so much involved in dying. Not for the deceased, but for the ones left behind. It was like mopping up after a public disaster; only, this tragedy was private and mine. I had signed papers, taken care of trusts, filed insurance papers and I still wasn’t finished. I couldn’t believe that Neil died and left me to cope. I gazed out the kitchen window at the two holly trees he had planted six years ago. They’d been just twigs back then. Now they were at least five feet tall and one of them sparkled with bright red berries. He had planted a male and a female tree, explaining that was necessary if we wanted berries.

I blinked back tears. It seemed as if everything came in pairs. Everything except me. Alone was a terrible word. The Colorado trip had gone surprisingly well. I had another trip coming up tomorrow—Arizona this time. The girls had made it all right without me, thanks to Mrs. Murphy, but I had still felt guilty about leaving them, and now I was getting ready to leave them again.

The phone rang, jerking me out of my thoughts. I reached for the receiver on the second ring.

“Kate? That you?” It was Nancy Whitaker, one of the stylists I worked with at the salon. Why would she be calling on a Sunday night?

“It’s me.”

“I stopped by the shop for a minute and found you had forgotten to take your briefcase. Won’t you need it on your trip?”

I groaned. My teaching material. Of course I’d need it. How could I have been so careless? “Rats. I’ll have to detour by in the morning and pick it up. Or if you’re going to be there for a while I can run over now.”

“Don’t do that.” Nancy paused. “Tell you what. I’ll drop it by on my way home. Will that work?”

“That would be great. I still have to pack, and the kids haven’t eaten yet.”

She promised to drop by and we broke the connection. I dug a pizza out of the freezer. Junk food again. I had zero interest in cooking. I fed the girls whatever was handy, and sometimes the meals weren’t exactly balanced. Corn chips and baloney sandwiches. Boxed macaroni and cheese. As for me, I’d lost ten pounds I didn’t need to lose. My appetite was gone.

I wandered into the bedroom trying to decide what to take with me, although by now I had narrowed my travel outfits down to a few that would pack well with the least amount of wrinkles. I shuffled aimlessly through my side of the closet, not really caring what I wore. I made a few selections, folded them and plopped them in the suitcase.

Kris hovered in the doorway. “You never did bake those chocolate chip cookies.”

I stared at her, trying to remember. What cookies?

“For my school party,” she prodded.

I shook my head to clear the fog. “Honey, that’s long over.”

The color in her cheeks heightened. “I know that. I’m not a baby.”

“Well, then, your point is?”

“We could still bake cookies.” She met my gaze, looking defiant. “I sort of promised.”

I sat down on the bed trying to figure out what we were talking about. “Promised what?” I asked gently.

She lifted her eyes to meet mine. “I told Mrs. Harrison that I could bring cookies tomorrow. We don’t ever get anything special in class for just because.”

I swallowed hard. “Just because” was a catchword in our house. Anytime we did something nice or bought a present for someone for no particular reason, it was a “just because” gift. Just because I love you. My eyes touched a well-known brand of perfume in a cut-glass bottle. Expensive and unexpected. My last just because gift from Neil.

I looked at Kris, noting the flush staining her cheeks, the hesitant expression. Had I actually sent her to school wearing that purple-and-black-plaid skirt with a golden-yellow-and-black-striped shirt? She looked like a walking ad for crepe paper. What had I been thinking? Or more to the point, why wasn’t I thinking? I seemed to be lost in a fog most of the time. And had I, in my preoccupation, caused her to look so insecure?

I realized she was still waiting for an answer. “Okay. One batch of cookies coming up. Chocolate chip okay?”

She grinned, relief crossing her youthful features. “That would be great, Mom.”

I nodded. “Consider it done. I’ll finish up here and then we’ll get started.”

My daughter took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “And can we go back to church next week?”

Well, now. I hadn’t seen that one coming. We hadn’t been back to church since Neil’s funeral. I knew the girls missed their friends and church activities, but I wasn’t yet ready to face our favorite pew where Neil and I had sat together. Besides, I was uncertain right now that there even was a God. He had ignored my pleas to keep Neil safe. How could I trust Him again?

Kris was still waiting for an answer, and I forced a smile. “We’ll see. Run along now and let me finish packing.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded. Judging from her expression, I hadn’t fooled her. “We’ll see” probably meant “no,” and she knew it. I sighed. Life had gotten complicated and I wasn’t mentally equipped to handle complicated. Maybe I wasn’t spiritually equipped, either.

Kris left and I glanced around the room for forgotten items before closing my suitcase. When I got back I’d have to tackle Neil’s personal belongings. So far I had kept his side of the closet closed, unable to face the thought of getting rid of anything.

The doorbell rang and I answered, to find Nancy holding my briefcase. Tall, slender, with a head of silver-blond hair she wore in a tousled mop, she looked like the typical feather-brained blonde. Behind that pretty face resided a sharp intellect and a friendly compassionate manner. She was a favorite among La Chic customers.

“You okay, girl?” she asked.

I dredged up a smile. “I’m okay.”

“Look, if traveling is too much for you to handle, you need to tell Maria. She can work it out.”

The idea sounded tempting, but I knew giving up traveling would amount to a cut in salary, something I wasn’t prepared to accept. What if I became incapacitated and couldn’t work? We’d need everything I could earn now to get us by without dipping into the insurance money. Maria, the elegant manager of La Chic, would probably be flexible, but for now I’d try to carry on.

Nancy and I attended the same church, and she was aware I had been staying away from services. She didn’t mention it, though, probably thinking that I didn’t need the pressure right now.

She reached out to grasp both my hands. “I know flying makes you nervous.”

“Particularly in winter,” I admitted. “Every time I see them deice the wings I start praying.”

Nancy nodded encouragement. “We’ll both pray that God will see you safely through.”

She left, and I shut the door and locked it. I thought about what she had just said. Flying did make me nervous, but I had always trusted in God to bring me safely home. Sometimes I had even enjoyed the takeoffs and landings. But I had lost faith in the power of prayer. My husband had started every day with prayer. Why had God looked the other way when Neil was trapped in that burning building? God owed me some answers.

I wandered into the kitchen and got out the cookbook, looking for my chocolate chip recipe. The weather was unseasonably warm for October. Sailor had been playing out in the backyard all afternoon, but now he scratched at the back door. I let him in and turned my attention to assembling cookie ingredients. It took only a few minutes to mix the dough, and, like the girls, I was looking forward to freshly baked cookies. Maybe I’d put together some ice-cream sandwiches using warm cookies. It sounded good, and for a brief moment I thought perhaps I was regaining my appetite.

Sailor was acting weird tonight, hovering around my feet until I almost tripped over him. “Kelli,” I called. “Come get this dog! He’s in the way.”

My youngest daughter wandered into the kitchen, pouting. “Poor Sailor. Nobody loves him except me.”

“Yeah, right,” I muttered. “Look, I have to light this oven. I don’t need any distractions, okay?” The temperamental thing could blow sky-high. Well, not literally. Last month Neil had called a serviceman to look at the gas monstrosity and he’d pronounced the relic safe. Just old and cranky.

Kelli scooped the dog up in her arms. “All right. Come on, Sailor. We’ll watch from here.”

“I should sell tickets?” I wiggled my eyebrows at her, in a pitiful imitation of Groucho Marx. My daughter, of course, had never seen the great Groucho, so she simply stared at me as if I had lost my mind.

“All right, I’ll provide the evening entertainment, but stand back out of the way.”

“Don’t worry,” Kelli said. “I’ll be ready to run if the stove blows up.”

“Oh, yeah? You expect that to happen?”

Her expression was way too serious. “You always say it’s going to.”

That stopped me in my tracks. Had I infected my children with my fear of this stove? I tried to laugh. “Don’t worry. There’s no danger of the stove blowing up. I was only joking.” Wasn’t I?

I hunted for the long fireplace matches someone had given us. They had always seemed a strange gift, since we don’t have a fireplace. Never had. I found the matches in the top cabinet lurking behind a jar of molasses, bought earlier to make gingerbread houses, which had gone unmade.

Lighting this monstrosity was actually a two-man job, but tonight I’d have to do it on my own. Our house was old and so were our appliances. The stove must have come over on the ark. I paused a foolish moment to wonder if there was a second one out there somewhere making some other woman’s life miserable. Or if this was something else that didn’t come in pairs?

I knelt in front of the stove and turned on the gas and was rewarded with a furious hiss. Satisfied it was working, I scraped the match across the flint. Nothing. Another match, no spark.

We’d had these matches for ages. They were probably too old to ignite. I fished out another one, forgetting I had left the gas on while I played with matches. This one flamed almost immediately, and I breathed a sigh of relief and extended it toward the oven, neglecting to turn my face to the side the way I usually did.

For a long moment I hung in limbo. Then, voom! The mother of all explosions shot a sheet of fire in my direction.

Blue flames rose like a Yellowstone geyser.

I reached out a trembling hand to adjust the controls, and the monster stopped roaring and started purring. Sighing, I shakily got to my feet. My face felt as hot as a roasted marshmallow. I promised myself to replace this stove as soon as possible. Now that I was down to one paycheck per week, and not wanting to tap into our emergency fund, it didn’t look as if “possible” would be coming around anytime soon.

“Wow!” Kelli said. “That was awesome.”

“Wasn’t it?” I agreed. “Better than Fourth of July fireworks.”

She frowned. “Are you all right, Mom?”

“Sure. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look sort of funny.”

Well, that was a given. I’d come within an inch of being roasted. Yeah, I probably looked goggle-eyed from the shock. I felt a tremor of pride. I’d lit that stove, and when it spit flames at me, I hadn’t even screamed. I was maturing.

“I’m okay. Right now I’m going to bake chocolate chip cookies, and when I’m through we’ll make ice-cream sandwiches. How does that sound?”

“Awesome!” She ran from the room, shouting at Kris. “Mom’s lit the stove and it didn’t blow up!”

I grinned. Kelli was a wordsmith. She collected words and phrases the way other kids collected favorite toys. Awesome was her latest.

The day, which had been sunny, was suddenly overcast. I stepped to the back door and cast an anxious glance at the sky. It was too hot for this time of year.

After watching the racing clouds for a few moments I went back inside and turned on the kitchen television. Worry was setting in. Almost immediately a weather crawl appeared across the bottom of the screen. “A tornado warning is in effect for Oklahoma City from four o’clock central mountain time until 5:30 p.m. Stay tuned to this station for updates.”

Tornado. And a warning, not a watch. More serious. Tornado alley again. We’d been hit before and I was familiar with the devastation left behind by the killer funnel clouds. So far we’d been lucky, but if Lady Luck had ever lived in this house, she had moved out.

Kris came into the kitchen. “There’s a tornado warning out. I thought we were through with storms.”

“I know. I just caught it on the TV.” I dropped spoonfuls of cookie dough onto the baking sheet. “You keep a close eye on the set for further warnings.”

She paled. “Will it hit us?”

“I hope not.” I slid the cookies into the oven.

She stared at me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?” I kept an ear tuned to the weather report. Well, maybe both ears, because I didn’t hear what she said. She looked worried, but then both girls had worn that strained, anxious expression frequently around me. We were going to have a long talk, as soon as I could get my thoughts straight. It was important to know what you were talking about before you started talking, and right now my thoughts were still tied in a knot and I couldn’t find the right string to pull.

“All residents in…are urged to take cover immediately.”

I dropped the spoon. It hit against the glass bowl with a clang. “Where? I didn’t catch that.”

“Us!” Kris cried. “That’s us!”

The telephone rang and I snatched up the receiver. My next-door neighbor Ron was on the phone. “Kate? I don’t want to alarm you, but I think you and the girls should come over here. Sally and I are going to the basement.”

“We’ll be right there.” I slammed the receiver down and yelled for Kelli. “Come on! We’re going next door.”

Kelli ran into the kitchen, clutching Sailor. I shoved both girls out the door. “Run.” The stove. I whirled and shut off the oven, opened the door and jerked out the pan of half-baked cookies.

The clouds had turned a dirty yellow color. I stood transfixed, watching them boil overhead. A sudden gust of wind whirled debris past me. Trees bent low. I froze, unable to move.

“Kate!” Ron yelled from the door of his house. “Come on. Hurry.”

I ran toward him like a scared rabbit scurrying toward the safety of a brush pile. He pushed me toward the basement steps. “Sally and the kids are already down there.”

I had started down the steps when he suddenly pulled me back. “What’s that you’re carrying?”

I looked down and discovered I still held the pan of half-baked cookies. My jaw dropped. I remembered taking them out of the oven, but evidently I had forgotten to put them down.

Ron laughed. “Give them to me and get downstairs.”

I shot one more glance toward the sky and saw a dark finger of cloud extending toward the ground. As I watched, it rose again. Tornado. Dear God, help us. It really was a tornado. I stumbled toward the stairs, aware Ron was right behind me carrying the cookies.

Sally and the kids were huddled in a corner of the basement away from the windows. Vicki, the Fowlers’ oldest daughter, had her arms around Kelli and Kris. Mark and Tommy, age thirteen and fifteen, were sitting next to Sally. Mark had brought his ghetto blaster and had it tuned to a rock station. If we didn’t already have hearing problems we would be permanently deaf from the volume by the time we got the all clear.

If we got an all clear.

If the tornado hit us we might all wake up in heaven.

Where Neil was waiting for us.

The thought stunned me. As badly as I wanted to see him, I didn’t want to die right now. The girls were young. I wanted to see them grow up and get married. I wanted to be a grandmother. The longing caught me by surprise. For weeks I had been mentally moaning that I was ready to die. Apparently that wasn’t true.

Kelli clutched Sailor so tightly he whuffled in protest. Tootsie Roll, the Fowlers’ yappy little Pekingese, kept running around us in circles, evidently thinking this was some sort of game. Between the dog and the rock music I was about to resort to some very undignified behavior, like yelling “shut up” to the dog and heaving the ghetto blaster to the far side of the basement. Not very wise behavior if I wanted to be invited back.

Since I didn’t have anywhere else to go in a tornado warning, I decided to keep my options open.

Ron shouted at Mark to turn off the music so he could catch the weather report. Tommy had picked up a guitar that was lying around, and plucked aimlessly at the strings. If he had a melody hidden in there somewhere I couldn’t find it. The kid had been taking lessons for several months. As far as I could tell, he needed a few more.

Ron managed to get a few words of the weather report before Mark turned the radio back to his music. The volume was loud enough to mask the roar of the wind outside, which was one blessing. Ron reached over and turned off the radio and motioned for Tommy to put down the guitar. The boys complied, albeit reluctantly, and their father reached out to grasp their hands. “Let’s pray.”

I stiffened, eyes wide. Did he think we were in imminent danger? He caught my eye and shook his head. “I don’t know if the tornado is coming our way or not, but if it doesn’t hit us it will hit others in its path.”

I felt tears sting my eyelids. Neil would have said something like that. He had been concerned about others. I realized I’d been concentrating on myself and my children. Me and mine. My husband’s death had reduced me to a cold, unfeeling half Christian. I felt chastened as I bowed my head and listened while Ron prayed for our safety and for the safety of those around us. A peace came over me. Not that I knew what was going on outside those basement walls, but because Ron Fowler was a good man; somehow I felt God would hear and answer his prayers. I had even whispered a short prayer of my own. I didn’t have confidence in any prayer of mine, but somehow I felt better.

Mark switched on his music again and Ron shook his head and turned the channel to a weather broadcast. The announcer’s voice came over the air and I thought I had never heard better news.

“It looks like the tornado system has passed for now, but high winds have caused considerable destruction and a twister did touch down on the north side of the city. No information on damage right now. However, it seems to be all clear for the time being. Stay tuned for further developments.”

Ron got to his feet. “Well, looks like the excitement’s over for now.”

Kelli had climbed into my lap, still clutching Sailor. She lifted a tearstained face to mine. “The tornado went away? We’re not going to die?”

I hugged her. “Yes, darling. The tornado went away. We can go home now.”

We sorted ourselves out and climbed the stairs. I noticed the boys staring at me with bemused expressions when we trooped through Sally’s kitchen. Ron appeared to avoid looking at me at all. I started to feel self-conscious. Was my face dirty, or what? Sally took one good look at me and burst into laughter. “What happened to your eyebrows?”

“What do you mean, what happened?” No one had said a word, and I hadn’t done anything to my eyebrows. She took my shoulders and turned me to the mirror. I stared back at my reflection in horror. My eyebrows and eyelashes were gone!

Kris was standing at my elbow. “I tried to tell you, but you didn’t listen.”

The stove. That rotten stove. When it exploded into flame it must have singed my eyebrows. No wonder I had felt like a marshmallow held too close to the flames. And I had to teach a class in Arizona tomorrow looking like this. I burst into tears.

Sally put her arms around me. “Don’t cry, Kate. They’ll grow back. Just be glad you weren’t hurt.”

Of course I was glad I hadn’t been burned, but I didn’t want to hear my eyebrows would grow back. I wanted them now. The idea startled me. That had been my theme ever since Neil died. Me, I, mine. I wanted my life put back together and I wanted it now. For the first time I realized it wasn’t going to be that way. What I wanted had little to do with reality. Life happened. Like it or not.

And I didn’t like it one bit.

“You look funny, Mommy.” Kelli giggled. I turned and took another look at myself. As a matter of fact, I did look funny. A chuckle started somewhere inside me and I didn’t even try to hold back.

When I laughed it was as if the tension in the room shattered into tiny pieces. Part of it was relief because we had escaped the tornado, but it was such a blessing to laugh. To hear my children laugh, to see Ron laugh until the tears ran down his cheeks. I mopped my eyes feeling as if maybe, oh please God, the healing process was starting.

Sally spotted the pan of cookies. “What’s this?”

“Well, they started out to be cookies, but they didn’t get done,” I said.

“Why are they over here?” she asked, peering at the blobs as flat as pancakes.

I snorted again. “I took them out of the oven when Ron yelled for us to come and I forgot to put them down.”

Sally shook her head and laughed. “Tell you what, I’ll make a pot of coffee and we’ll eat the cookies. Deal?”

“Sounds like a first-class deal to me,” I agreed.

While they weren’t as well-done as I would have liked them, the chewy little blobs tasted a lot better than I had expected. We sat around the Fowler kitchen table eating and drinking coffee while Vicki styled Kris’s hair and Kelli played with Sailor and Tootsie Roll. By the time we were ready to go home I felt as if I had reached my first turning point.

I was slowly working my way out of the fog that had filled my waking moments. We were surviving. That was enough for now.

The girls and I walked home beneath a clearing sky. The first stars were just starting to peek through the clouds, and the air was freshly washed. The yard was full of windblown trash, and broken limbs were tossed everywhere like matchsticks. We’d had some strong winds, but thankfully nothing worse.

The phone rang as I entered the kitchen. I answered to find Pastor Joe Crockett on the line. “Kate, are you and the girls all right?”

“We’re fine, Pastor. We were next door with the Fowlers in their basement. What about you?”

“Missed us, but I’m sure you’ve heard about the damage to the north.”

We talked about the storm for a few minutes, and then he said, “Kate, I’m worried about you. I want you to know you can talk to me anytime you feel the need.”

“I know that, Joe, and it helps a lot. Really it does.”

When I hung up the phone I realized something had happened to me tonight. I had come through a few more minicrises without falling apart. In my own way I was learning to cope. I had read the books on grieving that kind friends and thoughtful neighbors had dropped off; I believed that I had now passed the shock and disbelief stage.

I was lucky to have good friends and a pastor who cared. I was facing a future without Neil whether I liked it or not, and the kind of life I gave my children depended on how well I could handle that future.

I thought I had it all figured out. Little did I know my worst days still lay ahead of me.