The Secret Storm

by Peggy Trotter

  Stormi focused on her intense green eyes. She took a pant breath. “I am strong.”

  Joni nodded, understanding dawning. “Yes, you are. We have to wait. And pray.”

  “Ake will make it.”

  Joni nodded, eyes rimmed with tears.

  “Hoge will too.”

  A little sad laugh escaped Joni. “May it be so.”

  She clenched her teeth. Stormi willed it with a frantic prayer.

  Then a sad smile stretched Joni’s face. “But God may have other plans. And we must be prepared for that.”

  Stormi fought the anger and denial that gushed within. Joni was right. As much as she wanted to believe it would all be okay, sometimes God said no. Tragedy was reality. And she would have to make her peace with that. Stormi laid her forehead on the table and closed her eyes. But she didn’t have to cave to the negative. Digging her fingernails into hope, she bit her lip and whispered into the Formica. “Save them, Lord. Save them.”

  Stormi spent over an hour with her face pressed to the worn table at Calvert’s Grill, her fingers firmly gripped in her hair, praying her heart out. The shortwave radio squawked out a comment or two from the copter circling the area for signs of the boat or the men believed to be overboard. No return signals had been intercepted since the first distress call. The black box at the counter sputtered again.

  “We have located object. Appears to be a rescue craft, over.”

  Stormi’s head came up.

  “Roger.”

  “One man is in the craft, the other in the water. Approaching, over.”

  “Roger that.”

  “What’s happening?” Stormi tore from the booth and stood in the middle of the room.

  Everyone grew still.

  “Man in craft is waving. We’re deploying basket. Trooper going down, over.”

  Short phrases continued to hiss from the radio as the copter and rescuers continued to position the craft and basket for pick-up.

  “Steady. Ease forward, hold position to take the load, over.”

  Breath became foreign. Would they never announce who it was? Were they injured? Were they alive?

  “Sea Wheat 1 floundering. I believe we have our men, over.”

  How could time drag to a halt? Hypothetically impossible. Yet in this room, time ceased.

  “We have recovered Hoge and Ake Pearson. There are injuries, over.”

  “Roger that. Ambulance will be deployed to the dock, over.”

  Stormi tore towards the door and burst through it into the pouring rain. She sprinted across the road to the spattering of men along the crest of the rocky edge. But now darkness had descended, and the cursed storm only deepened the blackness. Nothing appeared on the horizon.

  “Stormi.”

  She didn’t bother to turn. They had to be out there. Somewhere.

  Joni appeared, wrapped in a slicker. She said nothing but wrapped another yellow raincoat about her and then clenched her forearm. A siren let out a piercing wail behind them. Stormi shook the droplets off her eyelashes. How was this real?

  Her eyes pried through the darkness, and at first, she imagined a pinpoint of light. Then, it became a moving point, growing and growing as time, once again, became tangible. Soon the thumping sounds of beaters cutting through air reached her ears. The copter circled and landed in the empty lot next to the grill.

  A throng of soaked people hurried across the street and Stormi fought her way to the front. Two troopers emerged trailed by Hoge, looking worse for wear. With agonizing slowness a stretcher came forth, and the ambulance pulled close, light flashing red against the building. Stormi gasped and stepped forward but was restrained.

  Ake lay sprawled across the white board and Stormi clawed her way through the arms and bodies and darted. Red oozed from his plastered hair, his skin corpse white. She clutched at his shirt and moaned. He was so cold. So cold and still.

  Conversation shimmied about her, but she wouldn’t release her grip. Soon she and Ake were loaded aboard the ambulance, and they went screaming into the night. She laid her head on his chest and bawled.

  ***

  Oxygen flowed at a crisp clip through his flared nostrils in a huge breath. His lids were reluctant, but he forced them open. Ake almost wished he hadn’t. They burned, like they’d swelled too big for his skull. And speaking of skull, it throbbed and resonated with the sounds around him. Beeping and murmurs. And maybe a horse galloped in there, somewhere.

  The white ceiling greeted Ake’s aching eyes, and just about the time he decided it wasn’t worth it to open his lids, Stormi appeared.

  “Oh, Ake. You’re awake.”

  Her whispery voice awakened that old protectiveness, and he attempted to rise.

  “No, lie back.”

  Oh, right. The white ceiling. The beeps. The storm. Stormi. “You’re here.”

  A soft laugh made one side of his mouth quirk.

  “Yes.”

  “Took a storm to bring you back, huh?” He attempted to pull his mouth into a full smile, not sure he’d nailed it.

  A whimper greeted him, and then her cheek pressed his, warm and sweet-smelling. He closed his eyes to soak it in. Even through the pain, he savored the contact. After a moment, she pulled away, and he wanted to snatch her and snug her up close to his body. But his arms appeared as sandbags, so he only fastened his gaze on her. Thankfully, she didn’t disappear.

  Instead she stroked his garment, some thin, cottony whatnot, and tugged the blankets up higher. “Be still. You need to heal.”

  His vision quivered. Meds, ready to knock him out. “I reckon. The Sea Wheat 1 didn’t play fair.”

  Her face crumpled again, and tears lit the corners of her eyes. Ock, he shouldn’t have said that. With much effort, he brought up his arm and snagged the material of her sleeve. “Don’t leave me, Stormi.”

  She shook her head. “I wouldn’t dare leave you.”

  He gave a nod, or at least he thought he did. Mister pain-management drug tugged at the blinds of his eyes. He pushed out his last word. “Good.”

  Sleep claimed him as he reveled in her touch.

  ***

  She tapped her new phone and ended the call. Marla’s voice had charmed her into an even better mood. Her eyes shifted to the recliner where her husband lay sprawled, still asleep. Praise the Lord he was home where he belonged. Stormi tiptoed around the counter to get a better view of his gorgeous face, covered in stubble. The hank of dark hair covered his new stitches, now completely healed.

  How her heart broke when he’d shared how hurt he’d been when he’s seen her with Alan. Ake had thought the worst, deleted her message, and yet, he’d still searched for her. Still wanted her. Still loved her. What an amazing, understanding, forgiving man.

  She pored over his dear strong face. How could she have ever left him? She’d married him to redeem her deed, and ended up madly adoring the big hunk. His eyes flickered open.

  “Whatcha staring at?”

  “You.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m insanely in love with you.”

  His eyes flickered wide and he kicked the footstool in. He rose and circled the couch to embrace her into a toasty hug. “I’ll never grow tired of you saying that.”

  A knock sounded on the front door. Stormi let go of her husband, and he turned the doorknob. There stood Hoge in all his glory, Joni at his side.

  “Can I talk with you?” Hoge’s voice was quiet.

  Ake shrugged and stepped back.

  They entered and Stormi moved toward the hallway. “I’ll be in the back.”

  “No,” Hoge’s answer came back. “I’d like you to stay. Please. What I have to say involves you both.”

  With a swallow, Stormi drifted toward the recliner.

  Hoge and Joni removed their coats and sat on the couch. Ake grabbed a stool from the counter and perched on it. “What’s up? Pop okay?”

  His brother nodded and cleared his throat. He leaned forward and rubbed
his hands between his knees. “Yes, he’s fine. And I think you’re right, Ake. We need to find a nursing center that can care for him, for his own safety.”

  Ake nodded.

  Again Hoge rumbled his throat to clear it. “But that’s not what I came here for.” He stood and stuck his hands into his back pockets. “I came to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  His brother’s hands flew out. “For everything. I’ve never treated you right, Ake. And the truth is, I hurt like heck when you came back. You were this little brother I’d looked forward to having. You became part of our family. We tried to adopt you, but adopting a foster kid is a tricky business. A long agonizing process. And then the courts thought it would be a great idea to return you to your birth parents. And that’s when everything went wrong.”

  Hoge paced, rubbing the back of his neck. “They hurt you, Ake. That scar on the back of your head is from their abuse. And it took everything from you. When the social worker brought you back to us, you knew nothing. You had to learn everything all over again. You didn’t even remember me.”

  Ake nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s not you who should be sorry. It’s me. I was mad at you. And I was mad at the world for what it had done to you. I didn’t want to get attached to you again, even after the parents’ rights had been severed, and we legally adopted you. I couldn’t let it go. I was afraid to…love you again.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Tears gushed to Stormi’s eyes.

  Ake stood. “I’m sorry you were hurt, Hoge. I love you. But, I’m fine. I’m better than fine. I don’t want to remember. Don’t you see? God took those bad memories from me. And maybe you think I’m this ruined, big dummy, but I don’t. I consider God erasing that time as a blessing. He gave me much more than I ever dreamed. A loving family, you, Stormi, and most of all, he made me realize my need for a Savior. I won’t ever wish that away, Hoge. It’s a blessing.”

  Hoge catapulted forward and flopped his big arms around his brother. They both stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, sniffing.

  “I love you, man,” Hoge huffed. “Please forgive me.”

  “Always.”

  Hoge drew back and held his brother at arm’s length. “I’ll never call you a dummy again. You’re smarter than I am. And that’s no lie.”

  A grin snaked across Ake’s mouth, and his eyes dropped to the floor. “You’re the best brother I could ever have.”

  Suddenly Joni was up. “I need a tissue.”

  She hurried down the hallway towards the bathroom. When she returned, she leaned over the recliner and hugged Stormi. “I’m sorry I ever caused you any pain.”

  Stormi rose to return the hug. “Me, too.”

  Hoge turned and Stormi stepped back. “I’ve been an idiot to you. Please accept my apologies.”

  She nodded.

  Joni rushed over to hug Ake tight.

  “Well, we need to go. We’re off to visit a few nursing facilities for Alzheimer’s patients. I’ll let you know how it goes, and then we can discuss the best place for Pop.” Hoge slapped a big paw on his brother’s back.

  Ake nodded. Their visitors grabbed their coats and made their way to the door.

  Once they were gone, Stormi stared at her husband. “Can you believe this? Everything seems to be working out.”

  She threw herself into his arms and giggled against his neck.

  He pulled away. “Maybe not everything.”

  Stormi’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  He jerked his head. “Come back here. I’ve got something for you. I was going to show this to you before Hoge and Joni showed up.”

  She followed him holding his thick forefinger in her hand. Touching him seemed as necessary as air. But he led her into the extra bedroom, a trail she hadn’t guessed, and pulled her toward the small table. He selected a small box from the stacks against the wall.

  “Take off your jacket.”

  She blinked. “But I’m cold.”

  “No, you’re covering. Take it off.”

  Why did the man know every thought? She gave a sigh. He was right. She should be over this by now.

  The tattoos greeted her as always, and she looked away. But his hand beneath her chin brought her gaze to his dark one. Wow. He smoldered.

  “Look at yourself.” He spun her toward the full-length mirror.

  “Ake.” She tugged away from the reflection.

  But the man’s grip was feather coated steel, and he held her firm. “I mean it, Stormi.”

  A heavy emotion rose in her chest as she extended her arms. She peered at them, covered in swirling patterns she wished she could rip away. Her entire arms and chest were tattooed black lace. Oh, why. Why had she done it? The black marks were like a trail of burning shame.

  “God doesn’t care how many holes or marks you put on yourself. You’re beautiful, with every scar and mark. You lived, you’ve learned. You’re a work of art.”

  Her face froze into a blank mask. “No. It’s not. I was drunk, drugged, and morally bankrupt when all of this became mine. And it will always be here. I’ll never be able to afford the removal of this much ink.”

  “No, Stormi. It was nothing but a storm in your life. You lost your way for a while. But God threw you a lifeboat. One that will never let you down.”

  She lifted her moist eyes to his. The man was a saint. Thickness strangled her throat. “People won’t understand. Good people. Christian people. I’ll always be judged because of it.”

  “You’ve kept this secret for so long, but it’s there telling everyone that you’ve not only survived, but live anew. It’s not something to be ashamed of, it’s something to reveal. It’s your witness to God’s glory and his power to change people.”

  Dropping her eyes, she realized he was right. It had been like a horrible storm she couldn’t stop, much like the one her husband had survived. And it became something she hid at all cost. But it was really her witness. A testament to God’s redemptive work on the cross. Proof that no matter what her sins, no matter the depth of her trespasses, God had forgiven and had made her new. Even Marla had embraced that grace in her own life. No manmade mark or horrible scar could ever hide the value that God had placed on her soul. The tears she’d held for so long began to fall.

  “You are precious in the Lord’s sight, Stormi. And you’re precious to me.” He pulled a tumble of black wiring and turquoise beads from the box. “I made this before I knew about your tattoos. Look, it matches.”

  She rubbed away the tears. The jewelry looked like black lace with its intricate swirls and carefully placed blue beads, perfectly reflecting the same pattern that covered her skin. How had he known?

  He reached gently and fastened it about her neck. Then he turned her toward the mirror. In the simple black racerback tank, the jewelry lay against her skin like an ensemble. The patterns of ink continued down her arms to her wrists, her hair in a chic crop, her eyes peeking from under the long bangs. From behind, Ake wrapped his arms around her and laid a soft kiss against her skin.

  “You’re beautiful, Stormi Pearson.”

  And she was. And in God’s sight, she always had been.

  “Don’t ever leave me, Ake. I might forget.”

  A laugh rumbled from his chest. “No worries.”

  She gripped his thick forearms. “I mean it.”

  He turned her in his arms and laid his hands on each side of her face. “Never lean on your own understanding, Stormi. God’s got this. And he’s got you. And Lord willing, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I’m a mess, you know.”

  “I’m counting on it.” His head descended and the kiss robbed her breath.

  Yes, God had stilled the storm. And the Stormi. All while turning her one-eighty. From the bad to the good. From flamboyant and angry, to loved and precious. Yeah, she might not ever be good at it, but it didn’t matter. God did have this. And having Ake, well, that didn’t hurt any either.

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  Don’t miss the third installment from the Unchained Souls Series by Peggy Trotter, coming soon! From Unchained Souls Book 3~The Secret Mirage

  Chapter One

  Mirage ran her fingernail along the choppy top of the marble tombstone. Blossom and Charlie Freet. Now vegetable-drawer chilled three days. Enclosed in urns in red cherry boxes, settling in the deep subsoil. Their parts dematerializing into particles.

  No. Not true. Which would have disappointed her hippy-throwback parents.

  “Blown to smithereens,” one of the drivers had announced before realizing her presence, clearing her few possessions from beneath the counter at Vylona Environmental Services.

  VES Renewing, Revamping, Recycling.

  Trash. Make it simple. Make it true. And junk drivers rarely had manners.

  But perhaps her parents had a closer brush with an environmental-nourishing burial than she could have planned.

  Either way. Sunglasses on. Backpack snugged. She was tripping. Just a normal walkabout. Her parents had always supported her need to roam.

  Two gravediggers a section over caught her eyes. Their shovels chucked a beat into the grainy October ground. One, an old high school acquaintance. Their relationship was obscure enough to ignore, familiar enough for pointed questions.

  With one last caress across the marble, she set her foot in the opposite direction. Audience unneeded, unnecessary, and unwanted. Near on twenty feet from the bricked columns bordering the exit by flying crow, heavy running footsteps sounded behind her.

  Shutters drawn. Door dead-bolted. She dug her nails into the nylon straps at her chest.

  “Wait.”