Storm Tossed: A troubled woman finds peace with herself and God in the midst of life's storms.

by Beth Jones

  A pride thing, she didn’t want to be obligated to him, and besides, she didn’t want to them to argue over money. It was tight enough for them as it was. Autumn wouldn’t be the cause of any more strained finances for them. Let them work out their money problems themselves.

  They both needed to learn how to manage their money better, and stop blaming each other! When she married, she’d find a dependable, frugal guy and they’d see eye to eye on money issues before saying, “I do.” Theirs would be a true partnership of love, understanding, and respect. It was ridiculous to argue over money!

  She’d call dad once in a blue moon, usually when the loneliness overwhelmed her, but almost never talked to Rachel or Faith now. Yet each day Rachel prayed faithfully for her. Autumn would occasionally text Faith or send her a private Facebook message just to say hi.

  She missed their childhood times of sledding or skiing in the snow down the big hills. They’d come in to drink hot chocolate, watch dinosaur cartoons, and giggle happily. Then she and Rachel would get into a tiff over something stupid like the mess Autumn made in the kitchen fixing the hot chocolate. Rachel was ruining her life.

  Why was everything so hard? Why couldn’t Rachel be the kind of mom Autumn needed and wanted?

  Rachel. Autumn wondered what was going on with the hurricane. She turned on the TV. She was appalled to see the widespread damage. Thousands without power. Homes demolished in an instant. Businesses that would have to file bankruptcy from the destruction. Streets like a river.

  How would they ever start to clean that mess up? Crews had been called in from other states. Mayor Susan Rudy had requested help from the National Guard, FEMA, the Red Cross, and the Disaster Mortuary Assistant Team.

  Mortuary…Autumn shivered and prayed. God, I know we don’t get along sometimes. But please let Rachel be okay. Please let her be alive and not hurt.

  She wondered if dad was watching the news. Her eyes stayed glued to the set, watching the horrible scenes, and she grew more apprehensive the longer she watched TV. Why was she watching this before bed? But after a day like today, she’d never sleep anyway.

  Abused children. Abused women. A 15 year old boy who had set a house on fire with friends just for kicks. A senior citizen having panic attacks and hallucinations of blood on the wall from PTSD as a result of her recent traumatic car accident. A gay man with full-blown AIDS and suicidal. A single mom addicted to meth whose kids were taken away. She had bald patches on her hair and sores all over her body. She loved little chocolate doughnuts, and would shove them into her mouth, while talking non-stop to Autumn. A pregnant 13-year-old girl still trying to decide whether to have an abortion in her third trimester or give the baby up for adoption. All of them with a story to tell. All of them just wanting love.

  Her eyes came quickly back to the TV when she heard the reporter mention Destin, Florida. Destin. That’s where Rachel is. Destin had been demolished, he said. The number of dead was still unknown as access to the areas was almost impossible at this point.

  A 12-foot storm surge had destroyed hundreds of homes and businesses. The costs to rebuild would be astronomical. In some places, water was still rising.

  Still rising? Autumn knew that Rachel had two fears about death: being burned alive or drowning. Why then had she done this stupid thing and gone to Florida during hurricane season?

  She didn’t want to call dad again and possibly scare him more. She just prayed, and ate more chocolate. The wine was empty now, so she poured herself a glass of chocolate milk. She knew she shouldn’t drink it, because she was lactose intolerant. But she loved it. She looked in the pantry for something else to munch on. Nutter Butters. Her favorite cookie in the whole world. And Rachel’s. Autumn could easily polish off an entire package.

  She looked at her stomach. How did she get so fat? Maybe wine, chocolate milk and Nutter Butters, you dummy, she scolded herself. But these were just occasional indulgences. Usually she ate healthy. That was one thing Rachel had taught her: to take care of herself, because she mattered.

  For the last several years, Rachel had radically changed her lifestyle. She ate lots of salads and fresh veggies, buying fresh vegetables and fruit at the farmer’s market. She bought lean meats, chicken, fish, and lamb, at the butcher’s shop. She ate regular meals at consistent times with a snack at mid-morning and the afternoon.

  She drank lots of water, giving up sodas, energy drinks, and sweet tea (a miracle, because Rachel loved her very sweet, southern tea), although she permitted herself one little indulgence—her morning coffee with cream. She’d lost a bunch of weight, looking “hot” Autumn told her one day, which made Rachel laugh and feel good. Her changes in her health and fitness inspired Autumn and Faith. She had never felt better. The fifties looked fabulous on her!

  She was more alive than ever. Full of life, purpose, and passion. Loving Jesus, loving her work, loving her family…or at least, she tries, Autumn thought. I know it’s not easy loving dad and me.

  Autumn prayed for God to watch carefully over her stepmother as the reporter talked about 23 people already found dead in Panama City, Destin, and the surrounding areas and the count not being over yet. Maybe even hundreds had died in this storm.

  God, please don’t let Rachel die. I love her. Please help her and protect her. Let her come safely home.

  *******

  Ben and Jim were helping Gail climb out of the large bay living room window to get into the canoe outside their home, tied tightly to a steel pole. When she’d realized that her sister Janine was dead after Ben said they couldn’t bring her with them, she had become hysterical, then almost catatonic with shock.

  At first she’d screamed in denial, then fell onto Ben’s shoulders, sobbing loudly and yelling angrily, beating his chest to do something, to bring her back with CPR. Ben just held her, taking it, knowing that grief has many faces including anger and she needed to deal with the truth. He didn’t want to have to keep pretending she was okay, when, well, Janine had definitely kicked the bucket.

  He wrapped his arms around her comforting her, and looked over at Jim compassionately, whose eyes welled up with tears again, too. Mandy came over to soothe Gail, speaking to her like a little child, and softly rubbing her back, big tears flowing down Mandy’s face. This was so heart-breaking.

  Andy was already outside waiting in the canoe. He was looking around, giving a news commentary every few minutes, trying his best to ignore the big gauge in his left thigh that was bleeding profusely. He was putting direct pressure on it, but blood was soaking the shirt.

  Ben threw him his shirt and he began pressing the wound hard with that, too. It had been years since he’d taken basic training and he had forgotten most of it. When was the last time he had a tetanus shot? He didn’t know what had injured his leg, but man, this was a hardcore cut.

  Lucky thing that Ben and Jim were here to help everyone. Ben seemed to know everything about everything, his mind like a computer. Sometimes it was almost like you could see it tick-ticking, going through all the files in his head. He had a photographic memory and a genius I.Q.

  Jim’s stint in Vietnam served him well here as Ben’s right-hand man and back-up medic. If it had been just Andy who survived with the women, they’d be in big trouble.

  I don’t know crap about anything. Ben got all the brains in our family-and the good-looking, great wife. I’m just useless, Andy thought. Maybe I should have died instead of Paula and Janine. They were good women, like Mandy. It should have been me. A cold, prickly sensation went down his neck and back. Then he superstitiously shook the thought away.

  Since water was partway covering the living room window, the men had to break it to get it open and everyone had to slowly slide through it, careful not to cut themselves on the jagged edges. The doors were water-logged and they couldn’t get them to open against the flood water that was in most places in the house waist-deep and in some rooms so high they had to swim through it.

  Mandy and Andy held out their ha
nds to hoist Gail into the canoe, both wincing in pain from their hurt legs.

  “I can’t do this!” Gail shrieked. “I’m going to cut myself on that window glass! I can’t fit through there. I’m too fat! I don’t want to go! I’ll just stay here.”

  Ben looked at Mandy in exasperation. “Gail,” he implored, “you can’t stay here. The water might still rise or another surge could come through and we could all die. We’re not going to leave you here alone. Just keep going. We’ll help you. But you have to get into the canoe. We all have to get out of here pretty fast so we won’t risk drowning. And Mandy and Andy are hurt so we need to take care of them.”

  “Mandy is hurt?” Gail asked, her expression instantly changing to concern for her friend. But who cares if I’m hurt? Andy thought, and then he felt bad for being self-absorbed.

  Everyone loved Mandy. She was beautiful, inside and out. Just a very loving, giving, sweet, funny person. She’d give you the moon if she could. Gail turned toward Mandy, her eyes widening and her lip began to quiver again.

  “I’m going to be okay. So is Andy,” Mandy said, not wanting to upset her more, but Mandy’s head was pounding now and her leg and foot were throbbing and purple. She knew her leg was more than bruised; it was either badly sprained or broken. But she didn’t tell Ben or Gail this so they wouldn’t worry about her. She had to restrain herself from crying and screaming, too, from the pain she was in.

  Stop thinking about yourself, Mandy thought. Just help Gail get into the canoe! Ben had noticed the color and swelling of Mandy’s leg right away as he helped lift her through the window to get into the canoe, after Andy had, holding it steady for everyone. But Ben hadn’t said anything. Right now the priority was getting everyone into the canoe. His mind was racing a million miles a minute right now, thinking of dangerous scenarios, all the “What if’s?”

  “Yes, Gail, she’s hurt, so we have to hurry as fast as we can, without hurting ourselves.” Ben said. “Now please try.”

  He and Jim carefully put Gail’s white-haired head in first through the window, then guided her arms and legs that were a mottled looking color now, one at a time, avoiding the sharp edges of the glass. The task was made more cumbersome because Gail was a good 215 pounds and had been wearing her soft, tan and white, checkered housecoat over a sheer, cotton, sleeveless nightgown and her Disney Goofy slippers when the surge hit.

  Good thing this window is bigger than the average size, specially made, making it easier for even Gail to climb through. God is in little details even like that, Ben mused, incredulous.

  Gail’s Goofy slippers were nowhere to be seen now and she had been obsessing over them and Janine, talking repeatedly about them, trying everyone’s patience in the process. Ben wanted to respect her dignity and modesty and tried to keep her housecoat and nightgown tightly wrapped around her big breasts and her knees, to avoid flashing her granny white underwear to everyone as she climbed through the window.

  The fast current made things that much harder to maneuver, but good thing the canoe was tied so securely to the pole by the window.

  After nearly 10 grueling minutes of helping her through the window, with her grunting, crying, and yelling in a high-pitched child’s voice, “I can’t!” over and over, she was seated in the canoe, shaking from fear and adrenaline. Everyone cheered for her and she smiled a toothy grin, clapping loudly like a little girl at her own accomplishment.

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Ben said to indulge her. Actually it was exhausting, physically and emotionally. He wished he had more of Mandy’s grace and patience, but he knew better than to pray for patience! Jim looked stressed, too, but said nothing.

  Ben wiped the sweat and a piece of green-grey seaweed off his brow, looking nervously at the waters and praying silently that another surge wouldn’t come or they’d all be goners.

  “Go ahead, Jim,” Ben said, nodding at him and cupping his hands to lift his leg.

  “No one gets left behind,” Gail shrieked, pointing to Janine’s still floating body. “We have to bring my sister!”

  Ben sighed deeply. They’d told Gail a dozen times by now that they couldn’t bring her or Paula. There was no room in the canoe for them and they couldn’t do it for health reasons, he explained to her, over and over.

  He didn’t want to get into why it was a health risk to carry around a dead body with you. He knew that Jim didn’t want to leave his wife’s body to decay in the water, but there was no way to properly bury her or Janine right now.

  Jim was a military man and had seen the stuff of nightmares when fighting in Vietnam, so he could handle a crisis better than Gail was right now-even his own wife’s death.

  Ben grimaced, knowing that after Hurricane Katrina and other hurricanes, bodies had to be burned quickly to stop the risk of disease. This happened in the 2010 Haiti 7.0 magnitude earthquake, too.

  But Ben knew that Jim nor Gail was in a frame of mind right now to burn their loved ones’ bodies. Besides, how would they burn them, anyway? Matches were nowhere to be seen, as well as many other things that would be greatly beneficial in an emergency.

  Are you ever really ready for the death of a family member or friend? He wondered. He didn’t want to find out. He was more worried about Mandy’s and Andy’s legs than he let on.

  “We can’t take her with us, Gail,” Ben said again, almost in a whisper now, when what he really felt like doing was screaming, cussing, and punching something or someone. Not Gail. And not Janine, for dying and upsetting her sister so much.

  Who or what was he really angry at? Maybe it was God. What’s the point of all this, God? Why do you let these kind of horrible things happen in the world? I don’t get it! Ben thought.

  “We’re going to have to leave her and Paula here, so that the rest of us can get to safety. You don’t want to die here, too, do you?” Ben asked, realizing a scare tactic wasn’t the best motivator, but it was a possibility if they didn’t get moving soon.

  “No,” she sobbed, putting her white-haired head in her wrinkled hands, covered with large brown, liver spots. “I don’t want to die. I want to live. I’m afraid to die.”

  Mandy smoothed her thin, white hair and rubbed her back again. “You’re going to be okay, Gail,” she said. “Jesus is right here with us. You’re not going to die. Gail, do you know Jesus?”

  Mandy knew that she didn’t. Janine had tried to witness to her sister many times before she died in this hurricane, and had prayed with Mandy for her salvation when they had their weekly Bible studies.

  Ben stifled a laugh. Here they all were, a motley crew, climbing out of a broken window, surrounded by flood waters, cold rain still coming down on their heads, all of them trying to get on a canoe to paddle to God only knew where to safety, and Mandy was trying to evangelize her neighbor.

  Just like her. Always getting people saved, he thought, hiding his wry smile. But he was proud she was his wife, so on fire for God. He admired her and wished he had her boldness and zeal for Christ.

  “Okay, Jim,” he said, more firmly now. They needed to get moving and to check on Rachel next door and other neighbors, if possible. But he was afraid they were all dead. It was a miracle any of them had survived this. “Go ahead, Jim. I’m right behind you. Rock and roll.”

  Jim seemed to readily acknowledge that Ben had become the group’s de facto leader. Like the centurion who understood Jesus’ authority because he had others under his authority, Jim climbed through the window without argument, then reached out his big bear-like hand to help Ben through.

  Ben looked sadly a last moment at Paula’s and Janine’s bodies, bobbing in the water, their faces both at peace. He knew he was simply looking at their earthly shells and that their spirits were now in the Lord’s presence in heaven.

  They’re better off than us right now. I almost envy them, he thought and then he got into the canoe. They needed to check on Rachel first.

  As Ben and Jim tried to move the canoe toward Rachel’s rented beach h
ouse, the fast, deadly current was like a wild, unpredictable animal with its own mind, fighting against them.

  Mandy was praying out loud in the Spirit for God to help them. Andy was in too much pain to help them paddle; he was still trying to stop the severe bleeding in his leg and was suddenly feeling weak and cold.

  Gail was frightened and confused at the chaos going on all around them. “I want my sister!” she sobbed, loudly, and Mandy grabbed her hand, shushing her like a little child, while continuing to pray.

  Ben managed to steer the canoe away just before the current almost slammed the canoe into a jagged piece of metal that was part of their neighbor’s new, red Jeep.

  “That was too close!” he yelled, his adrenaline rushing. He and Jim were doing all they could to safely steer the canoe away from parts of houses, trucks, furniture and other large objects that could smash and sink the canoe.

  Looking over at Mandy apologetically, Ben realized that it was no use and they would have to flow with the current, instead of against it, and try to avoid hitting anything. For now, he needed to find higher, dryer ground and get Mandy and his brother Andy to a hospital or makeshift medical clinic as fast as possible.

  He was worried about both of them, although he didn’t let it on. Right now his priority was saving them. Ben quickly prayed for Rachel to be okay and for God to send someone to rescue her at the beach house.

  Chapter 8: Alone

  5:58 a.m. Faith stared at her purple digital clock. Not a morning person, she rarely got up before 9:30 a.m. Sometimes she’d even sleep until noon, if Rachel or Jackson didn’t order her out of bed to go look for a job or do something constructive.

  Jackson’s dad was a farmer and laziness was a cardinal sin in their family. Jackson knew he didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps. Farming was just not his thing. But his dad had taught him a strong work ethic, making him and his sisters work the soybean and produce fields every morning and after school until dusk, and he now appreciated it.