Beyond The Storm Part 11

So many good and innocent people had been hurt or killed. It made no sense. Where was the justice? Heart heavy, Abigail plodded along behind her friends, staring into the grieving faces of young and old alike. And these? These were the lucky ones.

Abigail tracked the aroma of fresh coffee until she spotted silver urns and platters of cookies. Her belly was hollow, and she had a feeling some sugar and caffeine would no doubt give her sagging spirits enough of a boost to see her through the next few hours at least.

"Haruo!" Isuzu found her brother standing next to his son, Tyler, who was in a wheelchair. She tugged Abigail's blouse and pointed to the sidewalk. "I'll be there."

Abigail nodded and gave her a quick hug.

"And I'll catch up with you all later, too," Chaz said, holding up his cell phone. "I just got about ten seconds of cell service, but it was enough to find out that Kaylee is on her way here with a broken arm and some bruised ribs. Everyone else is fine." Though the worry s.h.i.+mmered in his eyes, it was clear that just hearing her voice was a huge relief. With a quick hug for Abigail and a clap on the back for Justin, Chaz left their group, his eyes already darting from face to face as he scanned the crowd for Kaylee.

"You're stuck with me, I guess." Abigail sighed as she handed Justin a cookie.

"No hards.h.i.+p there," he said.

Amus.e.m.e.nt did wonderful things to his face, and she felt her cheeks grow warm. Tentatively touching her hair, she could only imagine how she must look. "Do you see Danny anywhere?" she asked as she selected a cookie for dinner. Or breakfast.

"Not yet."

Abigail poured them each a steaming cup of coffee. Between the warm drink and the food, she was beginning to catch her second wind. "There's Jen," she said, and pointed with her half-eaten cookie at the ambulance under the ER portico, vying with battered cars and trucks for a spot to offload patients. They were still a ways away when the back doors were opened, and mother and baby were unloaded and wheeled through the throng and up to the wall of sliding gla.s.s doors. Danny still wasn't with her, but then, how would he know where to find her right now?

As he had done so often that evening, Justin spoke her thoughts aloud. "Let's go see if we can find Danny and tell him where Jen and the baby are."

Coffee in hand, Abigail slowly meandered with Justin through the parking lot, looking for Danny and gathering bits of information here and there. The high school gymnasium had collapsed. Kids were still being transported to the hospital. Two of them, to the morgue. Names were pending family notification. Old Town had been demolished. Her home was gone. Many of Rawston's oldest neighborhoods were gone. The numbers being transported to the morgue were rising steadily. Walterville had been hit hard. The damage to Rawston was the worst so far. Hospitals were overflowing. Souths.h.i.+re had only minimal damage.

Justin looked at her with concern as she reacted to each bit of news. "Are you all right?"

Tears welled and stung her eyes, but she pinched them back and gave her head a quick shake. "I can't process it all right now. As much as I'll miss my building, I can't believe how many people were killed. It's just . . ." she lifted and dropped her free hand, ". . . so surreal." Her face and throat ached with the effort it took to stem the emotional flood. The arm Justin draped around her shoulder was supportive in several ways, and she appreciated it more than he would ever know. Though she tried to block it out, the depressing reality had her feeling nauseated. All that work. Building a clientele. Building her home and shop. And for what?

The point of life on this stupid planet suddenly eluded her, and she swallowed back a surge of bitter bile that threatened to make her sick. As they searched the crowd for Danny, odd thoughts flashed through her mind. Random thoughts. Rogue ideas mixed with raw emotion.

This would be the perfect opportunity to move out to California. She could live with her mother in her mom's little bungalow in Beverly Hills. They never got tornados out there. Her new friend DJ had made her an offer to work in a high-end celebrity salon that only a fool would pa.s.s on. Think of the amazing people she would meet-the fast track life she would live. DJ's client list and social circle were regularly featured on the covers of the magazines at the check-out stand. DJ himself pulled seven figures, and his house had been written up in Architectural Digest. The fact that she hadn't jumped at his offer before now seemed ridiculous, especially in light of tonight's disaster. There was so much there, and so little to keep her here.

Then again . . .

She had dear friends and of course, her precious Aunt Selma. And . . . her father and his family, if she could ever screw up the nerve to face him again. The homesickness would be horrendous. She'd lived her whole life, right here in Rawston. But wouldn't it be prudent to cut her losses and leave now before the feelings that were germinating for Justin took root? Everything in her mind pointed to this logic. How could she have only known him for twenty-four hours? Would he stay here or go back east?

Her head was spinning. There was just so much to consider. Abigail had never believed in love at first sight. Love, Aunt Selma always said, was something that grew over time. Anything else was just so much l.u.s.t. And l.u.s.t didn't last.

So, what exactly was she thinking when it came to Justin?

Taking a deep, heartening breath, she considered him as they stepped into the long line at the Red Cross information table. He was muddy and rumpled and in need of a shower and a shave, but still he was the handsomest man in the parking lot. In Rawston. Make that the entire state. So, yeah. The physical thing was a lot of it. But she'd had really handsome boyfriends in the past. And, after the second or third date, they made their expectations clear, and if she didn't put out, they generally drifted away. Sooner rather than later, most times.

But if she took Justin's looks out of the equation . . . there was so much more. His face when he'd held Jen's baby? Just thinking about his joyful expression had her eyes swimming. And, what about the way he'd risked his own personal safety to protect her, a virtual stranger, during the storm? And that young mother and her small children? He'd taken charge and remained levelheaded when the woman had fought to stay in the store with her kids.

She sighed. Hopefully, things would be clearer in the light of day.

When they finally reached the head of the line, the woman in charge of the admission lists did not have Danny's name recorded as one who'd voluntarily signed her public release list, or been listed by immediate family as one who'd been admitted to Rawston Legacy. Or Souths.h.i.+re's Good Samaritan Hospital. Or Fisher's Mill's Emanuel.

"But," she'd said with a tired sigh, "that doesn't necessarily mean diddlysquat. Not every family is willing or able to sign for their injured. Not everyone who is injured can speak for themselves. Not everyone had ID on them when the storm hit. Not everyone has been transported yet. Information will be coming in for days. You'd be amazed at the number of people who turn up unscathed. Good luck," she said, her kind eyes filled with compa.s.sion.

Though he'd nodded at all of the volunteer's a.s.surances, it was obvious Justin had doubts about her optimism. Conflicting emotions had his jaw muscles jumping and the worry kindling in his eyes. He pushed back his hat and scratched his head, a gesture that was becoming endearingly familiar to Abigail. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Certainly. And, if you would, please sign your name here, and that way I can a.s.sure others who might be worried about you, that you are alive and well."

Taking up a pen, Justin signed his name, jotted his cell number and then handed the pen to Abigail.

"Would you have a Selma Louise Tully on any of your lists?" Abigail asked after she'd scanned the page she'd signed.

A quick perusal of several lists in her computer had the volunteer shaking her head. "I'm sorry, no. But no news is good news, as they say."

"Thank you." Abigail sighed, as disheartened as Justin. When they stepped out of line, Isuzu joined them. "Have you seen Danny?" Abigail asked, hopeful that she'd spotted him.

"Not yet," Isuzu said and Abigail noticed that her eyes and nose all red and puffy. It was obvious she'd been crying for a while now.

Scared, Abigail touched her arm. "What's wrong?"

Isuzu shook her head and the tears that spiked her lashes began to spill. "Tyler has broken leg. Many fracture. Brooke is in surgery . . . doctor not sure if she will walk again."

The hospital parking lot was so crowded, Selma had to circle the entire thing several times before a spot came open. To Bob Ray, the tension in his gut felt as if he'd swallowed a couple of burning coals. He repressed the awful need to scream and swear and slam his fists on Ms. Tully's dashboard. Not knowing where Heather and Robbie were was driving him mad. Ms. Tully was a G.o.dly woman. She probably wouldn't appreciate a crazed outburst like that, but he wanted to give vent something awful.

In the back seat, Elsa had finally lost her battle to stay awake and had fallen fast asleep on her mother's lap. Smiling with maternal love, Guadalupe stroked her daughter's hair and whispered to Selma and Bob Ray that she'd decided to stay in the car. "Take your time," she whispered. "We will be comfortable and sleeping."

Selma walked with Bob Ray toward the information line and waved him off. "Honey, you go look for your bride. I'll save you a place. If I get to the front before you come back, I'll ask after Heather and Robbie. I have some other folks, my niece Abigail, and such that I want to check on, too."

"Thank you!" Bob Ray kissed Ms. Tully's soft, paper-thin cheek and jumped into the crowd. His head whipping left and right, eyes flas.h.i.+ng, he pushed past people and ran, his heart thudding with both dread and antic.i.p.ation.

Heather? Where was Heather? Please, please be here.

"Hey! Watch it!" a woman snapped as he barreled past and b.u.mped her arm.

"Sorry," he called over his shoulder but didn't stop. He was a man with a mission.

"Bob Ray?"

He skidded to a stop at the sound of his name and spun around. "Heather?" He hollered. Heads turned to stare, but he didn't care.

"Bob Ray! Over here!"

Jumping up, he spotted her standing next to a grouping of chairs on the hospital's front lawn area. Robbie was fast asleep, bundled safely in a giant red blanket. His heart caught in his throat. Heather! Tears were streaming down his face now. Heather, beautiful, beautiful Heather. His best friend. The girl who'd given him a healthy son.

Getting to her was like trying to make an end run against an opposing team on the football field. He had to weave and dodge and push, but he finally made it to his family. She gasped as he swept her into his arms and spun her in a circle. Then, in front of G.o.d and everybody, Bob Ray kissed his wife. Hungrily. Eagerly. Pa.s.sionately.

It was a kiss filled with grat.i.tude and apology and most importantly, love. They were both in tears by the time he was done. Clasping her face between his palms, he pushed his nose against hers and kissed her lips, her chin, her jaw and her eyes. "I was so scared," he confessed. "So scared that I'd lost you. Tell me," he begged, and threaded his hands through her hair. "Tell me I still have you."

Eyes s.h.i.+ning, Heather laughed like the girl he'd first seriously courted in high school. "You have me," she breathed against his mouth. "You have always had me."

The inferno in his belly began to ease and in its place the feeling of becoming a real husband and father took residence.

"Oh, Zuzu. No." As Abigail drew her friend into her arms for a hug, no one voiced what they were all thinking. A brilliant Olympic career? Over. Years of hard work? Haruo and Mieko had to be heartbroken. "I'm so, so sorry," she said around a lump of sympathy.

"Thank you," Isuzu said and sniffed, her smile, watery. "They are alive. This, I am so thankful to Jesus for. And He is working out everything, I trust. Just hard to see."

Impossible, Abigail thought, but only nodded. She didn't share Isuzu's generous opinion. "How are your brother and sister-in-law holding up?"

"They are thankful both kids are alive, but very scared for Brooke."

"What about her boyfriend? What was his name again?"

"Nick. The kids were outside when tornado hit," Isuzu haltingly explained. "When they find Brook she is . . . unconscious. She have serious spinal injury."

Abigail swallowed and blinked. "And Nick?"

"No one see Nick."

Heather finally understood the need of the father to barbecue the fatted calf for the prodigal son's return. Bob Ray was home. She settled in next to the boy she remembered from her childhood. It was that Bob Ray who lit his eyes now. It was that Bob Ray in his touch. In his voice. He drew his foot up over his knee and propped their sleeping toddler in his lap before he turned to face her. For several long seconds, he sat in silence.

Heather could see the thoughts, like logs in a jam, struggling to organize themselves and flow out. She waited, fearing what she would hear, but resigned herself to wait. Her husband was back, but G.o.d knew he wasn't perfect.

"I was so scared," he began, his eyes welling. "I thought G.o.d was punis.h.i.+ng me with this storm for the stuff I've been thinking about . . . about . . . what I was missing out on. Here I was, married to a beautiful girl and blessed with a healthy son and I wanted . . . something more."

Heather nodded. She knew.

Shame had his eyes sliding closed and his chin dropping to his chest. "I thought maybe I'd lost you and the baby and that I'd have to live with that . . ." He had to stop, for the sobs closed off his throat and had his shoulders heaving. "Heather, I swear I never cheated on you. But I was thinking about . . . doing it. I . . . I . . . wanted to. I was just so sick of the responsibility. I just wanted . . ." his head dropped back and he peered into the night sky, "I wanted to play football again, you know? And party with the guys and stuff. Stupid. Stupid. Idiot. I was partying tonight, working, but really? Party time. And, when the hammer came down," he paused and wiped his face on the baptismal curtain, "everything I thought I wanted? It wasn't real. And it could never, ever compare to what I already have with you." His sigh was ragged and he clutched her hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles.

Heather stared at her hands, encased in his. The words he spoke cut her to the bone, but . . . hadn't she had similar feelings? More than once she'd fantasized about disappearing and living a life without Bob Ray's misery. Thought about meeting someone new and starting over again. How could she be angry with him for sharing the same thoughts? Clearly, it took a lot of nerve to confess. Maybe he really had matured in the middle of the storm. Stranger things had happened.

"I don't blame you if you don't believe me. I know I've been a total jerk." His face was so wet, Heather closed her fingers over the cuff of her sleeve and dabbed at his cheeks, nose, and eyes with her cloth-covered palm. Tears welled all over again and spiked his lashes. "T . . . t . . . tonight I learned that . . . one second you're here, a selfish jerk, and the next minute . . ." his sigh was ragged and consumed with emotion, " . . . you're dead. I know this is going to sound stupid, but I think G.o.d is trying to tell me something. Have you ever had that feeling where you know that He wants your attention. And you can run, but you can't hide?"

Heather grinned. "Yes. I have been praying for us. For you. For so long."

Bob Ray swallowed hard. "I don't deserve it, but I want to try again. To start over. To go to church and to be a good husband and a . . ." For a moment, he was overcome again. "And, a father to Robbie. The kind of dad I always wished for."

Bob Ray hadn't spoken so earnestly in years. For him to be talking to her this way now was unbelievable. It had to be an answer to her prayers.

"I want that, too, Bob Ray," she whispered and heads together, they cried.

"I found my parents!" Chaz told Abigail, Justin, and Isuzu, his smile huge with relief. "My brother and his family are all good, too. They're at church right now, finding shelter for people who don't have anywhere to go."

"I may need to go visit them," Abigail said and exhaled a heavy sigh.

Chaz stepped behind her and rubbed her shoulders. "Relax, girl. You are just a pile of knots. Listen, you're gonna be fine. My parents live over by your Aunt Selma. That whole area was pretty much untouched."

"Have you seen Kaylee?"

Giving his watch an impatient glance, he patted her neck and said, "She's only a few minutes away. My phone is working fine now."

Abigail exhaled tension and breathed in relief. Digging through her purse, she found her phone and saw that she had a frantic text message from her mother in California and several from friends in other states. There were also a number of text messages from local friends and family, concerned about her safety. Quickly, she sent out a ma.s.s text, letting everyone know that she was fine and at Rawston Legacy Hospital looking for a friend.

Justin was also able to let his family know that he was okay. "My grandparents are leaving the shelter and heading home. Souths.h.i.+re was lucky. There was some wind damage, but nothing big," he told her as soon as he'd hung up.

"Oh, I'm so glad-" she was interrupted by giddy squeals as Kaylee and her mother and her aunt found Chaz. In spite of a broken arm, Kaylee was jumping up and down and frantically exchanging notes with Chaz about everything that happened over the last hours, whenever Chaz wasn't shutting her up with a kiss.

"Our place is completely wrecked," Bob Ray told Heather. "Seriously. Looks like someone drove our trailer in a demolition derby and lost. Big time." They'd been talking nonstop since he arrived. And, even though the news was terrible, he'd never felt more at peace. More convicted about what a lousy husband and father he'd been. More willing and eager to make amends and some serious changes in his life. And Heather. Beautiful, sweet Heather. Her forgiveness was a total gift that he in no way deserved. He'd spend the rest of his life working hard to make her happy.

"I know," Heather said and s.h.i.+vered. "When I got here, I saw on the news that the tornado had plowed straight down Hollingsworth Boulevard."

Head dipped to kiss his son, he murmured, "Luckily, Mrs. Carmichael is okay, but the place is totaled. Half of it's in our yard. Half's in hers."

"What about Danny?" Heather asked as she remembered she'd left him there, when she and Robbie had headed off to the store for milk.

"Wasn't there. Neither was his truck. Mrs. Carmichael said she thinks he left before the storm hit."

Heather's relief was audible. "Thank heavens. I was so worried. When I left, he was . . ." She swallowed, obviously emotional at the thoughts spinning through her head, she tried again, ". . . when I left he was under the house, looking to see if our insulation was soaked and hoping to find where the water was coming out."

Bob Ray pushed back a stab of worry. Danny was from around here. He knew when to take shelter. He was a smart, strong man. He had to be safe. He had to be.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there when the storm hit, Heather. That will never happen again. I promise you, I'll be there whenever you need me in the future."

"I know."

Those two simple words sent a powerful rush of healing through his body, and he loved her more, if possible, than any person or thing he'd ever loved before.

"I guess it's lucky we don't own anything worth sweating over, huh?" He smiled at her, drinking in her sweet face and unselfish love for him and Robbie.

She shrugged. "Unless you count your football trophies and-"

"Heather? Heather?"

Both Heather and Bob Ray turned at the sound of her name filtering through the crowd and growing closer.

15.

As Heather's parents emerged from the milling, misplaced throng, a surge of adrenaline had Bob Ray tensing with the fight or flight syndrome. Rising to his feet, he s.h.i.+elded his son in his arms as he stepped between his in-laws and his wife, at their frantic, take-charge approach. Though he was tempted to stalk away and leave Heather to deal with her intimidating father, he stood his ground.

Huffing and harried, Mike and Denise were urgent with fear and when they saw their daughter, their relief was extreme. Palpable.

Bob Ray couldn't help but wonder why they thought this disaster in their daughter's life was more worthy of their attention than the last. As usual, her parents were dressed impeccably for a post-tornado meeting, their Tommy Bahama togs perfectly coordinated, their hair well-groomed and stylish. Both were still tan from their annual spring fling in Fiji. How he used to admire their style and wealth. Tonight, it seemed as vain and useless as the gold pinky ring on Mike's finger.

Heather's mother, Denise, reached them first. "Heather, oh, thank G.o.d! Mike! Over here!" She gestured for Heather's father to hurry and join them. "Oh, we've been worried sick about you! And the baby! Living in that horrible trailer park during a tornado . . . why anything could have happened!"

The muscles in Bob Ray's jaw jumped with resentment, and he was glad when Heather stood and tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. Robbie was still fast asleep in his arms, blissfully unaware of the day's traumas.

"We've been watching the news and saw that the storm hit that whole area." Denise's gaze strayed with longing at Robbie as she spoke to Heather. "How are you, sweetheart?"