“Catching a cat nap?”
He chuckled. “I suppose. We were up late cutting fish. Guess I nodded off.”
A crease appeared between her brows. “I’m sorry you had to wait.”
“I didn’t notice.” He stood and stretched. “Go like you hoped?”
Her teeth caught her lip, and her fingers clenched the strap of her purse. “Well enough. I’m relieved I won’t have to come back until spring.”
She turned and peered out the windows before casting a dismayed face at him. “Oh, my. It looks worse than ever.”
“My truck will get ya through, no worries.”
They padded to the door and down the hall to the elevator. The place smelled like new carpet.
“I hate to say it, since it means my car is wrecked, but I’m kinda glad you’re driving.”
Laughter erupted from his throat. “Driving in the snow is old hat. Been doing it since I was twelve.”
She turned towards him in the elevator, seriousness in her gaze. “Well…thank you for bringing me and waiting for me. I truly appreciate it.”
He studied her earnest face and grinned. Yep, she was the prettiest woman he’d ever spoken to, hands down. Rescuing her had been pure pleasure.
***
Stormi forced the back door of her house closed and stood for a moment. A foot and a half of snow, and it continued to fall with a vengeance. Funny how God had sent her a guardian in a black truck to ensure she got where she needed to go. At the time, the accident hadn’t seemed such a blessing, but now? Alan often preached about looking for the blessings, and she had definitely seen that.
She pulled the phone from her purse and texted. God sent a guardian today. So thankful for—
The phone vibrated in her hands. Marla. Great. “Hello?”
A stream of curse words met her ears and then a squeal. “Didn’t think you’d pick up. How’s it going B?”
Stormi sucked in a lungful of restraint. She and her old best friend hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Still, she wouldn’t pass up the chance to witness. “Hey, Marla. Everything’s fine here.”
Her friend cursed again. “Stormi. You sound like a librarian chocked full of stuffy old books with a bun pulling your face tight. You eating prunes and lemon rinds for breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”
Mocking laughter stiffened Stormi’s backbone. “No. Quiche, actually.”
“Quiche? Artsy. Parisian, even. We could do that, you know. We always talked about backpacking through Europe. The wine, the cheese. The adorable little tables. Al fresco. Oh, and did I mention the wine? And the exotic men? Hmmm. It might get you out of that funk you’re in.”
She inhaled deeply. “I’m not in a ‘funk,’ as you so eloquently put it. I’m a Christian now. My priorities have changed.”
“You’re brainwashed is what you are.” She swore. “I know plenty of ‘Christians,’ and they don’t go around changing their whole lives because of God. It’s your life, Stormi. You can do what you please. It’s not a sin to go to Paris. Besides, everyone thinks you’ve lost your mind. Just come back home.”
The old temptations to do just that rose up, and she closed her eyes. The familiar yet maladjusted life she’d led beckoned. It whispered how much easier going back would be than striving against the grain here in this new place. But then she remembered the emptiness after every party, every man. No, she hardened her resolve. “I’m sorry I’m disappointing everyone. But I had to leave. I’m different now. Not just a little different. Completely transformed. God’s Son died for me. I won’t take that lightly.”
Marla let out a stream of obscenities, and Stormi set her teeth. “You’re a freak. I couldn’t stand going through life in a boring bubble of churchiness. You’ll come crying back to your friends when those straight-lace conservative, closed-minded d-bags reject you. See, if they don’t.”
The phone went dead in her hands. She plopped on the stool and covered her face. Tears burned her eyes and a sob rose. Nobody in her old world understood, or even tried. She’d been friends with Marla since fifth grade. They’d dyed their hair together, pierced and tattooed together.
In high school they partied with one another, survived broken relationships leaning on each other. They even survived college, their first jobs, and all the drama, the endless drama. They’d been inseparable. Marla knew her better than any other person.
Except now. She swiped away the moisture from her face and glanced down at her phone. Alan. She backspaced the, so thankful for, and replaced it with, could use some prayer though, and pressed send. Alan would petition the Father for her. Meanwhile she pressed her head to the counter and prayed.
***
The gorgeous petite stylist eyed her hair with false sense of brightness. “Not to worry. We can fix this in no time.”
The beautician picked up the scissors and began to snip. Stormi took a deep breath. She’d waited for months for this day and now it was finally here. A chic new bob was just the thing to get some of her confidence back since her argument with Marla last week.
“This cut will accentuate that great jawline you have.”
“Thanks.” Stormi studied her reflection in the huge mirror. Did she have a great jawline? Not sure. She only knew she’d never been short for a date, or rather a one-night stand, which was a more accurate description of what transpired.
The woman clipped shorter and shorter, leaving her bangs longer so they fell in a spike beside her left eye. The stylist dried her tresses towards the front of her face, sprayed a tad of hair spray, and she was finished. Stormi sat up.
As the beautician held the mirror, Stormi followed the boy cut from the tiny spikes in front, exposing her whole ear, to the shaved duck tail in back. And the long layered bangs jutted to the left of her eyes giving a dash of modern urban to the style. She turned her head side to side and fluffed it.
“Like it?”
Stormi took a breath. It suited her thin angular face. She smiled. “Yes. I do. I really do. It’s perfect.”
Chapter Five
Stormi removed her beanie and Ake stared. She caught his gaze and turned with brows raised. “You like my hair?”
He nodded. “You look like a cover of a magazine.”
She adjusted herself on the hard, cold bench overlooking Dove Harbor, but Ake couldn’t stop staring.
Stormi laughed. “Yes, my inbox is filled with offers from Vogue.”
Ake pulled his gaze away with some effort. Don’t stare at folks, Ake, his mother’s age-old admonishment rang in his ears. “You’re like Tinkerbell. A pixie princess.”
Laughter burst from the lithe woman seated down the bench from him, and he cocked his head, not sure how to interpret her glee.
She sobered. “I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you, just your vision of me. It’s quite a compliment.”
Ake cast his gaze to the men below. Hoge would be plenty mad that Ake was spending so much time in conversation with this beauty. Nevertheless, he couldn’t draw himself away. He shrugged. “That’s okay. People laugh at me all the time.”
The woman beside him stilled, holding the lidded cup close to her chin. He set his eyes on the horizon and wondered how his mother fared with his pop.
“Oh, Ake. I’d never laugh at you.” She edged a little closer. “You are wonderfully refreshing.”
He turned his face to hers, not sure how to respond. “Well I better go. We got a long day of fishing ahead. Least the sun’s out. Hoge will have my hide if I don’t get down there and get the nets ready.”
With a deep breath, he stood and ran his hands down his canvas bibs, thankful for the long underwear beneath. She stood too, took the last sip of her drink and tossed the cup into the blue dinged trash barrel behind the bench.
“I hope you catch a netful.”
He grinned. “I’m praying for several netfuls.”
She stepped forward and startled him by touching his arm. “You’re right. Praying. That’s exactly what we should do. Thank you f
or reminding me.”
A fairy pixie princess. That’s what she was. It brightened his day just to talk to her. “Are you going to be down here every morning?”
Her eyes opened wide. “I don’t know. Why?”
He nudged the crunchy snow at his feet. “No reason. See ya.”
Through his pursed lips a whistle came forth as he scurried down the rough wooden timbers. Hoge could yell and scream and the warm feeling inside wouldn’t budge. He cast his eyes to the horizon and sent up a prayer for his mom and pop. Then tagged one on for Stormi.
***
Stormi perched back on the bench, intrigued by the men below readying the boat. One in particular kept her attention. Never in all her years of carousing had she come across such an innocent man. Absolutely no mind games. Just simple conversation, real concern. And though he let off like he lacked intelligence, a special kind of wisdom shone from his wide brown eyes. A wisdom which she pondered. He appeared to be a fellow Christian. Was he?
She tugged the beanie back on her head to battle the gust of wind. That would be her next question. Alan prodded her to align with other Christians for the sake of friendship and strength. Counting Ake Pearson as one of these would definitely aid in that accomplishment.
The men loaded on the boats and the engines started up. She shivered, her cheeks numb. Why was she still here? She had a perfectly good home a few blocks to the north. Ake moved to the stern of the boat and looked towards her. His left hand raised in a wave. Had this been what she waited for? With a deep feeling of satisfaction, she waved back and watched their boat drift from the harbor.
Later, when the afternoon sun dipped toward the western tree line, Stormi hurried along the snowy sidewalks. Work had gone so smoothly, she’d nearly forgotten to pick up her car from the shop. She couldn’t wait to have her vehicle back. Walking everywhere was great exercise, but with the cutting north wind, she’d just as soon drive. How many blocks had she hiked? Too many to count.
With a thankful sigh, she stepped to the glass door of Ray’s Auto Body shop and pulled on the metal handle. She paused inside to wipe her feet on the burgundy mat and absorb the heat. Glass surrounded the waiting room area and only one other person sat in the chairs that rimmed the room on two sides. The air smelled of grease and gasoline, and behind the gray counter hung auto necessities and nonessential necessities.
Her gaze swept the selection hanging from the white peg board. Air fresheners, tire gages, windshield wiper blades, auto emblems, decals—lots of them. Decals of depicting families came in stick, skull, and smiley. Then peace signs, deer antlers, car brand names, and the list went on. On the shelf beneath rested car polish, car wax, tire cleaner, and touch up paint cans.
She stepped to the counter and rang the buzzer near the cash register. To her right, a door with a glass pane revealed a couple of cars on lifts with men working under them, their arms stretched up into the guts of the vehicles. A red mustang and a black something beyond that. Good. Hers didn’t appear to be up in the air still. The older man, with whom she’d left it, had assured her it would be finished by late afternoon.
The door swung open, and in stepped a dark-headed man dressed in a navy shirt and black pants. Emblazoned across the left pocket in bright yellow was Ray’s Auto Body with a little red car speeding away. Wiping his hands with a grimy, gray rag, he stepped behind the counter. Disappointment rushed to her gut. This was not the same man she’d spoken with a few days ago. This guy was much younger.
“Hello.” He smiled with the gleam of perfect teeth. “What can I do for you?”
“Hi, yeah, I actually dealt with Ray a few days ago. He said I could pick up my car today.”
His smile widened, and his arms took a wide clasp on the edge of the counter. Humor danced in his clear blue eyes. Her gaze took in the charming dimple that clefted his chin, the lean cheeks, and fit physique which bespoke of one who worked out. Drop-dead gorgeous. Stormi filled her lungs with air and stomped down the urge to flirt.
“That’s my father. But since my parents named me Ray, as well, perhaps I can be of assistance?”
Ah. Game on. Yep, could have spotted him way off. She glanced out the window to break eye-contact. “Sorry, of course. I have the tan Saturn Ion.”
“Oh, that.”
His response drew her attention.
His smile lost some of its intensity, and his face took on empathy. “We’re waiting on a part for that. It’s not expected to be in until tomorrow. If you leave a number, we’ll call you as soon as it’s finished.”
“Sure.” She rattled off her cell phone number and clenched her mittened hands. Great. Another day without transportation.
He wrote down the information and glanced up. “We can rent you a car. And in this instance, I can waive the fee. Let me get you set up.”
She studied him as he stooped behind the counter and pulled out some forms. He picked up a pen and lifted his brows. His voice lowered. “I could even throw in dinner if you’re up for it.”
His smile ignited a warning flame. Uh-huh. She’d been here before. Many times. Flee. Flee.
She flashed a brilliant smile and backed away from the counter. “You know what? I’m good. Just call me when it’s ready.”
His brows descended. “It’s no trouble.”
She threw a, “That’s okay,” behind her shoulder as she swung through the door into the frosty air. A long cold walk home. Just what she had planned. She closed her eyes momentarily and lowered her head into the wind. Better to freeze than to revisit wrong choices. Before becoming a Christian, the conversation would have gone quite differently.
“I could even throw in dinner, if you’re up for it.”
Her eyes would have danced, and she would have tilted her head to the side and thrown out a hip. “Dinner. That’s sounds intriguing.”
He would have leaned forward and dropped his voice. “Yeah, we’ve got a great steak place on the edge of town. Maybe we could throw in a movie, too.”
She would have giggled and pretended to be coy. Maybe she’d have touched his hand which would have brought up his burning eyes to hers. “Not sure. I’d have to check my schedule.”
Then he would’ve laughed a low sexy laugh. “I haven’t even given a date yet.”
“Oh.” More giggles. “Well, for you, I’ll clear out my calendar. Say, Friday?”
The tapping pencil on the filled out form would have been his sign of triumph. “Sure, Friday. Six, okay?”
Then she would have smiled, bit her lip, and muttered a, “Sounds great.”
They would have exchanged information for pick-up, gone to a rated R movie, come back to her apartment, and whoaaaa. Same life all over again. A string of unfulfilled nights of random handsome men, cascading her back into an abyss of immorality and dissatisfaction.
What was that verse, what was it? Think, think. It had a lot of two’s. Her brain scrambled. Never mind. Just remember the words. “Flee the evil desires of youth and pursue righteousness…” The rest of the verse disappeared into foggy memory. She repeated it to herself, the cloud of her breath baptizing her in meaning. With a deep sigh she stepped into the road. A loud honk skidded her to a stop, her heart in her throat.
The huge truck’s fender rested within inches of her. A door slammed and Ake came bolting around the front. “You okay? Dear God, tell me I didn’t hit you.”
She huffed a couple of cleansing breaths and laid a hand on her heart. “No, I’m fine. Just freaked out. That’s all.”
His hands came down on her shoulders, and his black eyes surveyed her. “Are you sure? When you stepped off the curb, I thought I’d killed you.”
She gave a nervous laugh. “I guess I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
His wide face cleared. “Well, the Lord must have been watching out for you, ’cause you stepped right out into traffic.”
“I did? Huh.”
Ake’s arm slid around her shoulders and turned her towards his vehicle. “Here, let’
s get in the truck and get out of the street.”
Numbly she allowed him to steer her towards the passenger seat. She got in and he closed the door. He hurried around the front and jumped into the driver’s seat. “Where were you going?”
“What? Oh, just home.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, glancing around the busy intersection.
“I’ll have you there in no time. You might want to put on your seatbelt.”
She shook her head to clear it. “Of course.”
He pulled out into the plowed street, and she kept her eyes on the mounds of snow on the curbs.
“Stormi?”
She turned to stare at him.
“You really need to watch where you’re going.”
The concern on his scruffy face lit a smile on her lips. “I think that’s what I was doing. Only in my head.”
Puzzlement wrinkled his brow. “Come again?”
Issuing a deep breath, she said, “Never mind.”
He pulled into her drive and she gave a sigh. Safe at home.
“Well, you’re sure you’re all right?”
She peered at him in his canvas coat and black beanie, his brow crinkled. “I’m fine, Ake. Thanks for rescuing me—again.”
***
Ake motored up the lane of his folks and veered right down to the drive towards his pole barn apartment. Still couldn’t get the worry out of his head from nearly running Stormi over.
“Dear Heavenly Father, thanks for stopping me,” he murmured to the interior of the truck as he pulled into his one-car garage. He punched the button that closed the huge door and exited the vehicle. Tools marred the bench to his left around the unfinished copper rose arbor he was making for his mother. Course, it’d been there since late summer.
With a shrug he ignored the mess for another day and grabbed the snow shovel and the rock salt. Mom and Pop’s sidewalk still had ice, and he’d thought about it all day. Of course his mother seldom got out unless he or Hoge sat with Pop. Still, not worth taking any chances.
He strode out of the side door, his boots crunching through the foot of snow. The depth helped to propel him up the slope into his parents’ backyard. But he kept walking around the side to the front walk. For an hour he chipped and scraped at the walk until the entire span of concrete cleared. Then he liberally sprinkled the area with rock salt.
The Secret Storm Page 4
