Magnolia Storms

by Janet W. Ferguson

  “Not funny.” After flipping his napkin, Josh rubbed his face again. “And y’all sound like a pair of snorting hyenas.”

  They both laughed harder. Josh rolled his eyes, but a smile seeped out.

  A bell chimed, and an elderly couple exited the art-framing shop next door.

  The woman smiled and waved. “We were watching you through the window. Y’all are the cutest little family. Absolutely adorable.”

  The warbled voice was warm, but reality slapped Maggie like a cold wave.

  What did she say to that?

  “Thanks.” Josh gave a quick smile at the woman and waved, but grief churned in Maggie’s stomach.

  She closed her lunch and rose. “I have to go. I’ll eat this at the hospital.”

  “Maggie, wait. Don’t—”

  “No.” She pressed one hand out in front of her. “I can’t.” If she didn’t get out of here now, she’d lose it.

  Chapter 9

  A TRUCK IN FRONT OF her came to a sudden stop, and Maggie slammed the brakes of her Acura. The box of food Josh had bought her slipped from the edge of the front seat to spill onto the floorboard. Black-eyed peas tumbled everywhere. Turnip greens slathered over the beige carpet. That smell would linger for months, maybe forever. Seemed about right. A big mess all over the place. Like every hurt she’d locked inside for years was spilling out again.

  Her eyes burned. She wouldn’t cry. She’d shed way too many tears already when Josh had chosen piloting over her. But that woman’s comment about them being a family had lifted a gravestone and raised up the buried loss inside. And that little boy. And sitting there with Josh, laughing like they’d always laughed. And pretending it hadn’t been more than a decade since they’d spoken.

  “Lord, help me with this pain. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to keep my emotions under control around here.”

  Her grip on the steering wheel tightened, and she focused. Another car pulled out in front of her. She needed to keep her mind on the road. Her family couldn’t deal with any other disasters. At least she didn’t have much farther.

  Once she reached the hospital lot, Maggie checked her eyes in the rearview for any sign of smeared makeup. Not that she’d worn much, but no sense upsetting Cammie. The splatter of greens and peas on the floor continued to heckle her.

  “Oh hush. So help me, I’ll scrub this car after my visit, and it’ll be like you were never even here. You hear me?” Now she was threatening vegetables. Her sanity might be in danger. If only she could scour Josh from her mind as well.

  Inside the hospital, she arrived as the last visitors and a nurse entered the ICU. “Wait. I’m coming.”

  The nurse turned and held the door. “You made it. Take a deep breath.”

  Did she look as frazzled as she felt? “I lost track of time.”

  “You’re here now.”

  Maggie neared Cammie’s room. A man’s voice and then a small laugh came through. Cammie’s laugh. That had to be a good sign. Maggie poked her head in to see Dr. Castro sitting in a chair pulled close to Cammie’s head. From his profile, he wore a grin way too large for the doctor of a patient who’d recently been paralyzed.

  Maggie cleared her throat. Twice. Loudly.

  The doctor pushed back and stood, still grinning. “Miss Marovich, good to see you. We have great news.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “She can walk?”

  His forehead crinkled as the smile lessened. “No, but she has pins-and-needles sensations.”

  That caused all the smiling? Maggie stared at the man.

  “It means she’s healing. I know it’s a small step, but it’s a start.”

  It wasn’t a step at all. The man should learn to word things better. She pressed on a smile and moved closer to Cammie. “Great.”

  “Why are you here?” Cammie’s brows drew together. “Who’s at the store? It’s not closed, is it?” She must’ve been getting a little better. All the woman ever worried about was that store. Of course, the business was the sole income source to support three people, so it made sense Cammie would be concerned.

  “Settle down.” Maggie forced a pleasant expression. “I figured out how to use the cash register, and Josh is there with everyone, so it’s fine.”

  “Okay.” Cammie’s brow relaxed. “Josh knows what to do.”

  “Apparently.” Maggie beat back the urge to roll her eyes.

  “And Dahlia?”

  The anguished press of Cammie’s lips squashed all the ridiculous self-pity from Maggie’s mind. “She’s worried about you.” She turned her attention back to Dr. Castro. “When can her daughter visit? It’s Thanksgiving soon and all.”

  “Give it another day or so. There are a lot of flu bugs going around the schools right now. The last thing we need is for Cammie to catch a virus and have it to turn into pneumonia.”

  The image of Cammie getting ill whipped up the terror wanting to break out of the mental vault Maggie had locked it in. Her heart thrashed in her chest. If her sister caught pneumonia, would that stunt the healing in her back? Or worse?

  Being strong required her to keep that fear tamped down, not become paralyzed by worry and panic.

  “You know,” Dr. Castro continued, “I’m on call over Thanksgiving, and the hospital is offering a catered lunch. Why don’t you all come, and you can take turns visiting then. My daughter will be around, as well as other families. Dahlia won’t be the only youngster here.”

  Maggie let the offer sink in. It would save her from having to cook a Thanksgiving meal, along with everything else. Doubtful she’d have much time to go to the grocery store. “We can chip in or something.”

  “There will be plenty, but come as my guests.”

  Dr. Castro sure was being friendly. Maggie checked out his ring finger. Empty. He’d better not be a creep. “Doesn’t your wife hate when you have to work on the holidays?”

  The smile on his face faded quicker than daylilies in the dark. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I lost her to breast cancer two years ago now.”

  Memories of her mother struck like a winter wave slapping bare skin. Remnants of those gray days of IVs inserted in PICC lines, catheters, managing pain meds, her mother’s endless nausea... The way her mother’s body had shriveled away there at the end. She ached for anyone who’d suffered through the horrendous disease. Her mother’s encouraging spirit had been the last to go, and she could still hear Mama speak her final words.

  Don’t lose hope, Magnolia. Take heart, God loves you.

  If only she knew how God wanted her to take heart. What did that even mean?

  “I’m sorry.” But she knew how little those words actually helped. There was nothing that could help that kind of pain.

  His nonchalant shrug couldn’t hide the grief tightening the lines around his mouth. “You didn’t know.”

  “You said you had a daughter, right? How old is she? Who keeps her?” Maybe he knew of good childcare for Josh.

  “Anna’s ten.” He fidgeted with a pen in the breast pocket of his lab coat as if embarrassed by what he was going to say next. “My mother lives with us. She’s a widow of many years, so when I lost Leah, she moved in to help.”

  Sweet, but not useful for their childcare issues. “Makes perfect sense. Our great aunt Ruth and Cammie live together and support each other.”

  Cammie’s brows shot up, and she aimed a barbed stare Maggie’s way. “You’ve seen that I’m okay, so you can go back to the store.”

  What in the world was with that look? “But Josh is... Never mind.” Her sister, the slave driver, even from ICU. “I’ll check back tonight, and I’ll bring Aunt Ruth and Dahlia later in the week.” Unless the hurricane decided to move in. Her empty stomach tossed at the thought.

  “Bring Josh and J.D., too, for Thanksgiving. They won’t have anyone either.”

  What was this? The lonely hearts club Thanksgiving meal? Though the idea seemed as smart as bathing a jellyfish, Maggie schooled her face and
nodded. “I love you, sis.” She clasped Cammie’s fingers and gave a little squeeze.

  “No sleeping in the waiting room.” Cammie closed her hand around Maggie’s. “You don’t have to come tonight.”

  Her sister might not be able to walk, but she was sure able to boss. Maggie let out a long sigh. Would Josh have plans to visit his mother in Atlanta for Thanksgiving? She hoped so.

  Before she left, she’d find out where Angie worked and see if they could have a chat about the doctor. Maybe even childcare options. Maggie exited the ICU and stopped at the information desk in the waiting room. A woman sat playing Solitaire on her phone.

  “Excuse me. How can I find a friend of mine who is an employee of the hospital? I needed...wanted to catch up with her for a second if she’s here.”

  The sixtyish woman looked at Maggie over her reading glasses. “I’m new part-time help, and I’m not sure of the policies for employees.” The angle of her body shifted closer toward her computer screen. “I suppose I could tell you what floor she works on. What’s her name?”

  “Angie—” Wait. What was Angie’s married name? Maggie strained to pull up the information from her tired brain. Braden? Burton?

  The woman’s forehead crinkled with wary expectation now.

  “Bernard. I think. I mean I knew her maiden name, but it’s been a while.”

  Slow fingers pecked on the keyboard. “Let’s see if this is the right place to punch it in. Angie B-e-r-n-a-r-d?”

  “Right.” Weren’t the older generation supposed to be better at typing? They’d had to learn on old-fashioned typewriters.

  Once the clerk figured out how to find the information, Maggie made her way down one floor. She probably could’ve walked around asking and figured it out quicker. At the nurses’ desk, Maggie waited for one of the staff members to catch her eye. They all had conversations going, either on a phone or with other medical personnel.

  Finally, a short man in blue scrubs looked up. “Can I help you?”

  “Is Angie Bernard here?”

  “She’s off today. Can someone else help?”

  “I’m a friend. My sister’s upstairs. No worries.” Well. She wished there were no worries.

  JOSH RANG UP ANOTHER customer while Dahlia and J.D. played a game of Connect Four in the corner. Cammie stocked quite the collection of games and educational toys to entertain the children. Though only smaller items had sold since he’d been the one minding the store, business had been brisk, which should help Cammie’s finances. The door chimed, and Maggie marched through, sweeping his breath away.

  Every. Single. Time.

  “How’s Cammie?” He kept his voice low to avoid drawing Dahlia over.

  “Pins-and-needles sensations. Supposedly a good sign.” Maggie blew a strand of hair from her face.

  Man, he’d love to tuck it back for her. Instead, he jammed his hands in his pockets. “Sounds promising.” He hoped.

  “I guess. The doctor said Dahlia could come up for Thanksgiving lunch and a visit with Cammie. Are y’all traveling to Atlanta?”

  Was she trying to get rid of him already? Or offer an invitation? “Mom’s in California with her husband’s kids. They’ll be with us for Christmas.”

  “Miss Maggie’s back.” J.D’s voice sang as he ran at her and grabbed her legs.

  For a second, Maggie’s eyes widened. Then she recovered, lifting him up for a hug. “I was only gone a little while, pumpkin.”

  “Do you want to play with me?”

  “Uh, okay.” More bewilderment roamed her face.

  Josh took a step closer and held out his arms. “Let’s go for a quick walk while Maggie gets settled in.”

  “No.” His son’s brows scrunched together.

  “Now, J.D., that’s not how we talk.” Josh tried to give him a stern look, but it was such an adorable picture.

  “No, sir.” The small lips formed a pout.

  “I have an idea.” Maggie tipped J.D.’s chin. “I’ll show you something I always loved when I was little. Then you can take it home and play with it more, if it’s okay with your dad.”

  “What is it?” Puppy-dog eyes stared up at Maggie. The boy was a charmer already.

  A vision of Trisha materialized. Dressed to the max, nails perfect, eyes flashing. The woman had been smooth. Josh pushed away the image. His son would not turn out like her.

  “There’s a huge box in the back.” Maggie gave his son a tender smile. “I’ll show you.”

  “A box? That’s not a toy.”

  “Oh yes, it is.” Maggie’s lips lifted, a smile brightening her eyes and the soft angles of her face. “With an imagination, anything can be fun.”

  Josh held in a sigh that really wanted to escape. Right now, his imagination was breaking his heart. Maggie would be a great mother.

  After a few steps, she turned toward him. “You’ve got the front.”

  “Question or command?”

  “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

  Command it was, but he’d love to see her introducing J.D. to playing with a box. Well, he’d love seeing her do anything.

  He should leave town before J.D. got too attached. Okay, before he got attached, too.

  IN THE BACK ROOM, MAGGIE located a pack of washable markers and used duct tape to reassemble the box she’d flattened. Once she had it squared off again, she stood beside J.D. and motioned toward the enormous brown rectangle.

  “What do you see? A castle? A Jeep? I’ll make some slices with the box cutter when you decide, and you can use markers to decorate our imagination-creation.”

  His face screwed together, and he scratched behind his right ear. Like Josh always did when he was concentrating. “Pilot boat.”

  A small sigh seeped from her lips. “Are you sure it’s not a fort?”

  “Nope. Pilot boat.”

  “Okay.” May as well keep stirring up all the painful debris from her past. She mashed her lips together and tried to look pleasant. “I’ll lay it sideways and cut a circle at the top and on the side for a gangway, so you can ride in it. You can color while I work.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” J.D. saluted, his eyes bright with excitement.

  After thirty minutes of cutting and snipping, the boat began to come to life. Her fingers throbbed as she worked the scissors to complete the sides. This had looked easier when her dad had done it. Finally, she finished. She glanced at J.D. from her spot on the concrete floor.

  “Okay, sailor. All aboard.”

  He took it all in. “Wow. Thank you, Miss Maggie.” His arms wrapped around her neck and squeezed, undoing every single scrap of her heart.

  “That is really sweet, Maggie.”

  She turned to find Josh standing in the doorway, jaw working, smile tentative.

  “Brings back memories.” His gaze moved from the box-ship to the armoire. “Didn’t you have a piece of furniture like that at your house?”

  “Yeah.” She untangled herself from J.D. and pushed to her feet. “Gone with the deluge.”

  “I remember how you loved it. You should buy this one.”

  “It’s not the one I had and never will be.”

  “This piece might be better—sturdier. It will last longer. You should give it a chance.”

  Why was she arguing with him? “Anyway, now you and J.D. can figure out how to fit the pilot boat in your truck, so y’all can play with it at home.”

  “We can stay. Help out.”

  “No. We’re fine. I’m fine.” With the tightening in her throat, she felt as though she’d swallowed a life raft. And between the two sets of blue eyes gazing her way, her emotions were about to spill over.

  Chapter 10

  WITH JOSH AND J.D. gone and a lull in the shoppers, Maggie flipped open her computer. She needed to check the latest forecast tracks. A few clicks, and she found the information she’d feared. Though weakened and having drenched the tip of Florida, the storm seemed to be taking aim at Mississippi. Maggie’s insides tightened as if iron chains wrapped a
round each organ and each muscle, paralyzing her. At the same time, a desperate urge crashed over her. The urge to run from the store, hit Highway 49, and not stop until she reached Jackson.

  Where were her keys?

  “Aunt Maggie? Are you all right?” Dahlia nudged her. “What are you looking at?” Her niece eyed the screen and pointed at the swirling symbol. “Is that the storm?”

  Pressing her right thumb into her left palm, Maggie squeezed her hand and massaged. The habit seemed to zap her back from her land of nightmares. She swallowed and picked her brain for words.

  “That’s the hurricane. They’ve issued a watch along the Mississippi and Alabama coasts.”

  Her niece’s eyes became twice their usual size. “Are we going to die like Grandpa?”

  As scared as she was, Maggie knew better than to terrify a child. “No, sweetie. A watch means it might make landfall within a few days. There’s still a high cone of uncertainty. It’s not certain. Not like a warning.” They should still leave, though. Just in case.

  “What category is it?”

  “How do you know about categories?”

  The smirky expression took over Dahlia’s face. “We studied weather at school. I’m in the fifth grade, you know.”

  “Right.” Note to self. Preteens think they’re grown-ups. “It’s weakened to a category one.”

  “We shouldn’t have to leave if it’s only a one, right?”

  They would leave now and never come back if it were up to her. “We’ll see. They may order an evacuation because winds can still be up to ninety-five miles per hour. Plus there could be a storm surge.” The swells that destroyed everything last time.

  “It’s sunny.”

  “When the storm is still several days out, the conditions on land can be fair. If we were to go down to the beach, which we aren’t, we might see a swell in the water and higher waves. As the storm moves closer, the pressure begins to fall, and the outer bands of clouds start rolling in.”