The Secret Storm

by Peggy Trotter

  “Yesterday.”

  He acknowledged her remark with a tilt of his head. “She told you that?”

  “Yes. And she showed me her…” Joni paused to bite her lip and look around for a moment. “Her—tattoos.”

  Ake’s face stiffened into a mask. Something big had happened if Stormi had revealed her ink to his sister-in-law. “And?”

  Joni struck an irritated pose, hand to hip. “And she’s not for you, Ake.”

  “Because she has tattoos?”

  She gave a sound of disgust. “Well, no. I mean, maybe. For golly sakes, they are all over her arms. Everywhere. Oh, Ake, she all out told me she’s been used. You don’t need that.”

  “You tell Hoge?”

  “Not yet.”

  When he didn’t speak, she continued. “Are you asking me to keep this from your brother?”

  Ake made a clicking sound out the side of his mouth. “I’d never ask you to do that.”

  Tears sparkled in her eyes. “Ake, you’re killing me.”

  He pulled his gaze from her. “Not sure what you want from me, Joni.”

  She sniffled. “I want you not to love her.”

  He cut around her and headed for the stairs. “Me, too.”

  Ake didn’t care what it looked like. He needed a drive and he headed straight for the front door, avoiding the family group gathered in the kitchen. Then he paused. If he disliked the drama in the basement, his abrupt departure would bring more of that from Mom and Hoge. He pivoted and made his way back to the kitchen and worked his throat, hoping it would accept another unwanted portion of food.

  ***

  Stormi combed her fingers through her dirty wad of hair. She’d taken on teaching more classes at another online university and barely had ten hours of sleep in the last two weeks. In one fell swoop she swept the papers and books from the counter, crashing them to the floor. Enough, she was near nuts looking for the one paper that hid from her. Where was it?

  She gripped her head and surveyed the mess splaying on the concrete at her feet. With a scream she kicked the nearest book and sent it against the far wall. The pain in her foot sent her hopping and nearly cursing. Fine. She hobbled to the door, foregoing the coat and yanked her purse from the counter.

  After slamming the door, she walked to her car and sank into the bucket seat. She gave a cry of surprise when her skin touched the cold fabric. A spaghetti strap tank top was perfect for this weather and for her mood. She should slap an “S” for sleazy to her head and walk back and forth downtown to declare her sins to the world.

  With a growl she jerked the shift into gear. She just wanted to be numb. One day free of the debilitating remorse of hurting Ake. Just one day. She drove to the place she remembered could do that and pulled into the parking lot of the liquor store. Panting, she stared at the brick façade that flanked the large barred window displaying its wares in colorful bottles and boxes.

  The radio blared an appropriate drinking song, and she punched the off button before sinking her hand into her purse to locate her phone. With shaking hands, she punched in Alan’s number.

  “Sup?”

  A garbled gasp was all that met his ears.

  “Stormi, that you?”

  She blurted an, uh-huh, through her huffs of agony.

  “Where are you?”

  Good, ole’ Alan. Knew right where to probe. “The liquor store.”

  A silence stretched which helped Stormi grab hold of sanity.

  “All right. Could be worse.”

  “I broke an innocent man’s heart,” she blurted.

  Another long mute moment ticked by.

  “Stormi, it isn’t anything God can’t fix and forgive.”

  She cringed. What if she couldn’t forgive herself? “I’ve failed. I did a horrible thing.”

  “We all do it, my friend.”

  “You don’t,” she snapped.

  “Yes, I do. Yelled at my wife for dropping her phone in the toilet last night.”

  Stormi rolled her eyes. If only this were about cleaning off some toilet water. “You call that a real failure?”

  “She cried. It broke my heart.”

  Her breathing slowed down. “Is she still mad?”

  “Nope.”

  How do these people do this? “Not sure I’m cut out for this, ‘do the right thing,’ Alan.”

  “Ah, Stormi, none of us are. We’re all carnal, all fighting sin constantly.”

  She let out a shuddering breath and shivered. “Then how can I possibly do this?”

  “You need to ask God for help. Did you talk to the Lord today, Stormi?”

  She pressed her head to the freezing steering wheel. No. She hadn’t.

  “Start the car, Stormi. You don’t really want what’s there. Go home, and get on your knees.”

  Obediently she pulled the shift into reverse. Then she eased the car forward and pulled out into traffic.

  “Who’s the guy, Stormi?”

  “A friend.”

  “Then he’ll understand. Get close to the Lord and He’ll comfort you. You got it?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Call me later, ’kay?”

  “Yep.”

  Stormi pulled in the driveway and exited in a flurry, her skin already chilled to the bone. Once she shut and fastened the door, she set more wood on the fire. With the soft blanket, she sank into the bed, nestled in, and lay face up. And prayed like nobody’s business.

  After a long night of sleep, Stormi sat up on the edge of her bed, thankful for the rest. It gave a whole new perspective on her situation. So had her prayers. God hadn’t sent instant healing, but He’d made the pain manageable. She had to clean the floor of the mess she’d made yesterday and get a couple more podcasts finished.

  With a deep breath, she pulled herself from the bed and visited the one walled-in room, the small bathroom. Then she jumped in the shower. It would be refreshing to start the day clean with her hair done. She dried off and dressed in jeans and camisole, covered by a sweater. The tattoos mocked her, as usual, and she ignored their evil shame. Moving on.

  Once her hair was dried, she glared at the pathetic mess of papers and books on the floor. Good grief. There was that paper. Right on the top. She snatched it up. Her podcast schedule she’d sketched out. With a sigh she taped it to the wall near her laptop and then flicked it for good measure.

  She strode to the radio and flipped on a local station. Maybe more favorable weather would roll in, even though it was only the end of February. The obituaries came on, and she hurried over to find another station when a name caught her ear.

  “Maude Pearson passed away last night, daughter of Freeman and Talia Pearson. She was born—”

  But Stormi couldn’t move or hear. Ake’s mom. She’d passed last night. Dear holy heavens, poor Ake. What to do, what to do? Stay out of it? Undoubtedly, Joni had passed the news of her visit several times over amongst the family. Perhaps even Ake’s mother had heard, and it had caused…Oh, kill me now, if that’s true, Lord.

  Or maybe Ake needed her. Such a loss. The man was linked tightly with his family and, in spite of his domineering brother, they all seemed to have each other’s back. Would they toss her out on her ear if she showed up at the door?

  She paced. Bleh, she could barely stand to think of Ake without running over there. And why shouldn’t she? It would only be proper, wouldn’t it? She knew him. She cared for him. Her jaw clenched. She was so going.

  Stormi slid to a stop in Ake’s driveway. With all the warmer weather, the pavement was nearly clear. She jumped out and clattered to the front door and pounded. Complete silence. She glanced up the slope behind her to the house at the crest of the hill. Boldness had thundered over her soul on the way over. Did she still possess enough gumption to plow through the whole depressed family and not make the situation worse?

  For Ake’s sake, she would. She navigated the slippery slope and approached the weathered back door. Through the glass she could see Ake a
nd his father at the kitchen table. The coast seemed clear. The hunch of Ake’s shoulders stole her breath. She tapped on the glass. He turned his head and then rose.

  When he answered the door, the raw misery in his eyes clutched her throat closed. She could do nothing more than mumble an apology and hug him to her bosom. His huge bear arms wrapped around her until she could barely breathe. Then he lifted her inside the house and tugged the door closed.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  A small happy spiral shot through her. She gave a tremulous smile. “I’m glad you’re glad.”

  Pop stood and shuffled into the hall. “Mom…Mom.”

  Stormi sought Ake’s gaze. He shook his head.

  “He’s been calling for her all morning.”

  “I’m…sorry, Ake.”

  He shrugged. “Can’t change it.”

  She placed her chilled hands on his furry face. “If I could, I’d give my life to change it.”

  A small grin yanked at the corner of his mouth, but never came to fruition. “I appreciate that. But taking care of Pop was a hard job. She deserves some paradise.”

  “Still, it breaks your heart, Ake.”

  He nodded and his jaw firmed for a moment. “It’ll pass. Better check on Pop.”

  She let him go, and he disappeared down the hall. The house appeared too quiet. And scentless. The times she’d visited with the Pearsons there had always been food fragrancing the air. She stepped forward and peeked into the living room. Shoo. Empty. Ake reappeared from her right.

  “He’s lying down. Seems he sleeps more in the day than the night.”

  “You hungry?”

  His faced scrunched up. “Not sure.”

  She brought her hands up to his shoulders and rubbed. Why couldn’t she keep her hands off of him? But she knew the answer. She wanted to comfort him, to swipe the pain away. He blinked and straightened.

  “I’ll leave if you want me to. I don’t want to make things worse.”

  He eased her into his arms and rested his cheek against hers. “I want you to stay.”

  She swallowed, enjoying the rasp of his wiry beard. “What about Hoge? And…”

  “Joni?”

  She pulled from him and fixed him with sharp eyes. “She say something?”

  He studied her. “Yep.”

  She covered her face with her hands, but his came up to ease them away.

  “Don’t worry over it. Just be here.”

  That was something she could do. With a low moan, she wrapped her arms around him again. He snugged her closer, pressing her against the counter.

  “Just let me—” His mouth found hers.

  This was not a coaching lesson. This was a man hungering for his woman. A man needing physical comfort. She leaned into him, sighing with pleasant agony. She’d give herself to him if it would help. She’d surrender anything he wanted.

  “Mom, Mom.” Pop’s voice interrupted them.

  Ake pulled away and turned from her. “Sorry. Just not thinking clear.”

  Stormi hated that he left her. The chilly air reminded her of reality. “Maybe it would help if your father had something to eat.”

  He nodded glancing over the kitchen. A charming blush covered his face. “Not sure what to make.”

  She gave a twitch of a smile. “Leave it to me.”

  He went to check on his father, and Stormi made herself at home in the kitchen. She grabbed her phone, found a potato soup recipe online, and started with peeling the vegetables. Ake returned, and she relayed what he could do to help. Before long the garlic spiced potato soup bubbled on the stove. She threw some refrigerated biscuits in the oven to compliment the meal.

  “So where is Hoge? I want to make sure I’m out of the way before he shows.”

  Ake’s face spasmed. “Picking out the casket. Making arrangements.”

  “Without you?”

  He shrugged. “Someone had to stay with Pop, and someone smart had to do the other.”

  She yanked on the flannel shirt he wore. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

  His eyes raked her. He didn’t seem like innocent little Ake anymore. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

  She snorted. “Being and feeling are two very distinct concepts.”

  He stood there clenching his hands.

  “You okay?”

  “Just trying not to kiss you again.” He gave a grunt that resembled a laugh. “Funny. I oughta be thinking more about what to do here, but all I can think of is you.”

  She blinked. If she did what came naturally, he’d be all over her. But that wasn’t fair. What he needed right now, she realized, was help to ground himself. “I’m nothing special, Ake. But your mom was. She raised you and Hoge right.”

  “Yep.”

  “She must have been quite old when she had you. The radio said she was seventy-six.”

  “I’m adopted.”

  Surprise raised her brows. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

  “She had Hoge at forty. At fifty-four, she and Pop adopted me when I turned eight. Officially. ’Course she had me when I was a baby, but they sent me back to my original home.”

  Her brows drew together. “What do you mean—”

  The back door flew open and in stepped Hoge.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Stormi shrank back. Hoge’s tired face turned ticked in five seconds.

  “You.”

  Joni came in behind him. It was a standoff. No exit behind her. Joni gave an audible sigh.

  “I better go.” Stormi tried to cut around Ake’s big body, but he reached out and clenched her to his side.

  “Nope. You’re staying.”

  Hoge shifted his thunderous gaze to his younger brother. “She needs to leave, Ake.”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  The elder paused as if confused, and then glanced at Joni.

  Joni studied the two of them. Her hair had the lumpy, day-after look. “Let her stay, Hoge. Ake wants her to.”

  Message loud and clear. She was only wanted by Ake.

  “Fine.” He strode to the living room.

  Joni gave a half-hearted smile. “Smells good in here. Do you have enough for two more?”

  “Of course.”

  Ake’s arm eased and wrapped more comfortably around her shoulders. “Where’s the kids?”

  Joni removed her coat and hung it on the back of the dining room chair. “At my sister’s. How’s Pop?”

  “Resting.”

  She nodded and wandered toward the living room.

  Ake turned and gripped her upper arms. He pressed another kiss against her lips and whispered. “Please don’t leave.”

  She loved the blush that rose up his neck. “I’ll stay all night if you need me.”

  He ran a finger down her face. “Probably ought to talk about something else.”

  She tried to smile. “Whatever you say.”

  Joni breezed back in, and Stormi jerked from him to locate the bowls.

  “I guess you don’t need help. Holler if you do.” Joni exited again.

  Stormi flicked a gaze at Ake. A lazy grin ghosted across his face. He did seem less stressed than when she’d arrived. She’d face a firing squad if it would only ease his mind. And Hoge was pretty much the closest thing to a line of men taking target practice on her forehead. Let him try to get her to leave.

  They served up the hot soup and biscuits and laid them on the table. Hoge and Joni reappeared and seated themselves. Hoge offered an abrupt prayer and the tension was on.

  Stormi blew on the scalding soup, allowing her eyes to dance around the table. Jeepers, she was a creep. No doubt Hoge knew about the tattoos, and the wild life she’d led by now.

  “The funeral is Wednesday with the viewing right beforehand. We’re holding everything at the church.” Joni volunteered, nibbling a buttered biscuit.

  Ake nodded. Pop appeared at the doorway. Ake rose to escort him to the table. He settled next to Stormi.

  The old
man reached over and patted her hand. “Been looking for you, Mom.”

  She froze.

  Hoge’s murderous gaze fastened on her. “That isn’t—”

  Joni jumped up. “Let me get you some soup, Pop.”

  Ake’s older brother transferred his hateful glance to his wife who gave him a knowing look. She whispered, “Let him have a snatch of peace, Hoge.”

  “Sure, sure, let’s all jump in the fruitcake.”

  A bout of laughter bounced out of Ake. “Mom hated fruitcake.”

  Hoge’s lips twitched. A small chuckle flew out. Pretty soon they both were belly-laughing the strain away. Joni giggled a bit too, in between sniffs. Stormi gnawed her lip while tears threatened. She wasn’t sure if she should laugh or cry.

  Joni wiped the moisture from her eyes, smothering giggles as she washed her hands.

  The elder brother pushed away from the table. “I’d forgotten that, Ake.”

  Ake grinned, but sadness lined his eyes. He turned his gaze to Stormi. “My Aunt Phoebe used to bring one every Christmas. Mom hated them, but didn’t want to tell her. My aunt eventually quit the ritual about five years back.”

  “Yep, substituted it for toe fungus. And that dang dog.” The brother snickered once more as Joni laid a bowl of soup in front of Pop. He tore into it like a hungry wolf.

  Hoge sobered. “We need to call Aunt Phoebe. She’ll not take it well.”

  Ake’s face settled into mournful seriousness once more. “I know.”

  Pop piped up between spoonfuls, “Dang dog, dang dog.”

  Again the brothers stifled spurts of laughter. Ake’s hand found hers on the table. “I reckon Mom would like us to remember the funny stuff.”

  His older brother nodded, eyeing his brother’s hand on Stormi’s. “You betcha.”

  Joni returned to her chair. “She’s enjoying heaven right now. I sure never thought she’d be the first to go.”

  “When I came to the back door and the alarm went off, I knew it wasn’t right. She always had Pop’s oatmeal ready when I got here.”

  Stormi clutched his hand with both of hers. Emotion clogged her throat. “You found her?”

  Ake turned a small sad smile on her. “Yeah.”

  She didn’t even want to contemplate how painful that would be. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed his face. “I’m so sorry.”