by Gail Sattler
Even though his father wasn’t a trucker, his father traveled a lot for business. Looking back as an adult, he could see the deterioration of his parents’ marriage, and he had vowed not to make the same mistakes.
When he was a kid he’d been witness to their many fights. He couldn’t count the times as a child he’d hidden under his bed, praying to a God he really didn’t know or understand to make the yelling stop. The screaming usually started the day before his father began his preparations to leave for yet another business trip. Even worse than the screaming matches, he’d had to endure his mother’s constant complaints until his father returned, a mother telling her child what a jerk his father was and how his father didn’t care about them.
He remembered when it stopped. It was when his mother found someone else.
The divorce was quick, but the custody arrangements had been painful. As he grew up, he’d avoided going home, because from Monday to Friday he had to listen to his mother correct everything he did so he wouldn’t turn out like his father. Every weekend he’d had to listen to his father tell him what a selfish and ungrateful woman his mother was. Living with his mother on the weekdays and his father on the weekends, he’d had a difficult time making and keeping friends. He couldn’t see his school friends on the weekends, because custody arrangements said that he lived at his father’s house on the weekends, and his father insisted on his staying there all weekend. Then he couldn’t see the few kids he’d met in his father’s neighborhood during the week, because his mother wouldn’t take him to his father’s house on “her” time.
He would never do that to a child. Even before he became a Christian, Lionel promised himself that his marriage would be forever, and that no matter what troubles happened, he would do everything he could to make it work.
When he met Sharon, what attracted him the most was her independence. When they were apart she anticipated his return, but she had other things in her life to occupy her thoughts and her time. Both their lifestyles suited his being a trucker. They could function apart, and when they were together again, they were happy as well. As far as he could see, and according to what she told him, every time he left she missed him, but wouldn’t pine for him, and eagerly awaited his return. A few weeks before what would have been their wedding date, he thought he’d surprise her when he’d been rerouted and come home early. The surprise had been on him. When he knocked on her door, she was with someone else.
He jumped at the sound of the truck door opening. Gwen hopped in and headed straight for the back. She rolled up her sleeping bag and raised and secured the bunk. She tucked her personal effects, including her overnight bag, into the bin they’d said would be hers, and pulled out his laptop computer. “I’m ready to go.”
Lionel watched as she took her place in the passenger seat and fastened her seatbelt. The woman was efficient and organized beyond belief. She was a good driver, yet she recognized her limitations as a beginner and was anxious to learn. When they stopped she did her share of the maintenance, even checking the oil. Still, doing what had until recently been considered a man’s domain, she was every inch a woman. Even without makeup and in her wrinkled old clothes, Gwen Lamont was beautiful, inside and out. She had a heart of gold and a soul that radiated the love of Christ. One day some man would be lucky to have her.
Lionel found himself jealous of a man who so far didn’t exist. He was realistic enough to see that he could have no future with her. He couldn’t enter into a relationship that could never have a happy ending.
As he geared up the truck, she booted up the computer. While she waited for it, she gazed out the window and sighed. “It looks like this good weather is going to be over soon. When I was outside I could see big ugly gray clouds in the distance, and they’re getting closer. I guess in this part of the country in the heat of the summer that means a thunderstorm is coming, doesn’t it?”
“You never know. The clouds could disappear as quickly as they appear. Or we could miss it entirely. Actually, a little rain would be a nice break in this heat.”
“Yes, it sure has been hot, way hotter here in Kansas than at home. Have I told you yet how grateful I am that your truck is air-conditioned?”
He grinned and quirked one eyebrow. “No. Tell me.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever slept so well in the heat of the summer. The air conditioning is perfect when I …” Her voice trailed off. She lowered her head and began furiously typing her messages. “Never mind.”
Lionel flipped on the cruise control when he reached cruising speed. Their pattern had been that he would drive for a couple of hours, then they would stop and fuel and eat. He would have an early supper, she would completely ignore his comments and have what she called a late breakfast, despite the time of day. Then she would drive for a few hours before he crawled into the bunk for a sleep. The pattern was comfortable, and it hadn’t taken long to get used to.
As they continued eastward, the clouds in the distance billowed and expanded with a speed he’d never seen. In the blink of an eye, the sky became dark.
Gwen stopped typing and reached over to turn off the air conditioning. “This is so strange. I don’t like it, it’s kind of scary. Does this happen often?”
A gust of wind rocked the truck.
“No, this doesn’t happen often.” He studied the clouds. Everything had happened too fast, and he didn’t like it either. He also didn’t like the sickly yellow-green color behind the gray of the clouds.
Another gust of wind hit the truck. “This isn’t good, Gwen. Turn on the weather station.”
Without question and without finishing what she was doing, she closed the laptop, laid it at her feet, and pushed the designated button on the radio that automatically zeroed in on the local weather station, no matter where in the continent they were.
A blast of hail pelted the truck at the exact second the announcer’s voice came on the radio. Gwen turned up the radio in order to hear, and the steady drone and bang of the hail nearly drowned out the voice.
“… no funnel clouds have touched the ground so far, but Doppler radar indicates a severe line of thunderstorms accompanied by hail and heavy winds. Persons in the southwestern portion of the state should seek immediate shelter as it continues to travel northeast. I repeat, we have a tornado warning in the southwestern portion of the state… .”
Lionel set the windshield wipers onto high. “We’re in serious trouble like this in the middle of nowhere. Grab the map and see if there’s an overpass nearby. We’re sitting ducks out here.”
A flash of lightning lit the sky, immediately followed by the crash of thunder directly above them. The hail instantly became so thick he couldn’t see past the hood, pummeling the truck in fierce torrents, the ensuing onslaught battering the roof and hood in a deafening roar.
The truck started to slide. “Hang on!” he yelled over the din of the hail pounding them as he fought with the wheel. He struggled with all his strength to regain control. “And pray like you’ve never prayed before!”
He geared down and steered against the force of the wind and the hail as it pushed the truck. Until he could bring the unit to a full stop, they would continue to slide. Only when the truck was at a stop would they be safe, if he could do so before they toppled over in the ditch.
“I know you can do it,” Gwen whimpered beside him, and then she started to pray.
He heard her, and he wanted to pray too, but he had to pour all his energy and concentration into working against the wind, guessing where he was going, and trying to stop. If he touched the brake, the wheels would lock up, the truck would jackknife, and they would go over in the ditch.
He had no idea if there was anyone else on the road. It was the major interstate highway, and there would be other traffic besides them in the middle of the day, but he couldn’t see where he was going or what he was doing. In the ten years he’d been driving, he’d never hit a snowstorm that blinded him as much as this summer hail. He wouldn’t kn
ow if another car was on the road until he rode over it or hit it.
He frantically continued to gear down, fighting with himself not to touch the brake. After an eternity, when he was almost at a stop, he couldn’t stand it anymore and stomped on the brake. The truck slid a few feet, shuddered, and settled with a jerk. Immediately he killed the motor and yanked on the parking brake.
Lionel turned to Gwen. Her face was pale, her eyes wide. “Don’t move!” he called over the clanging of the hail. “Stay in the seat, and don’t take off the seatbelt!”
The falling hail outside the window surrounded them completely in a pasty gray void, but even in the dim, filtered light, he could see the fear in her. He’d never been so scared in his life either, but he knew that the safest thing to do was to remain seated, with the seatbelt on.
“How do we know where the funnel is?” she yelled across the space between the seats.
“We don’t.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her folded hands to her heart, but she didn’t touch her seatbelt.
Lionel closed his eyes and prayed. For their safety. For the safety of those around them, if there was anyone around them. And mostly for Gwen, that no matter what happened, to him or the truck, she would be safe.
As suddenly as throwing a switch, all was quiet, except for the pounding of his heart.
Slowly Lionel opened his eyes. Within seconds the sky brightened and sunlight appeared. The wind stopped.
He looked outside.
The truck sat at an angle on the highway, blocking two lanes, the right rear tire of the trailer hovering over the edge of the ditch. Three inches of hailstones covered the ground. Mixed with the layers of hail, branches and tree limbs were strewn everywhere.
He checked around them for other vehicles. No one was in the ditch as far as he could see, but three cars were scattered as haphazardly across the highway as he was. All were upright.
“Looks like we caught only the outer edge. We’re safe.”
They both unfastened their seatbelts at the same time and stood. His legs felt like they were made of rubber, but he couldn’t stay in the seat a moment longer.
He met Gwen halfway between the seats. Lionel needed to touch her. To press her body close to his and hold her tight. To feel her heartbeat and, by experiencing the movement of her breathing against him, have the proof he needed to confirm that they were still alive. But he didn’t have that right.
His hands shook as he cupped her face.
Her eyes widened at his touch. Her voice was raspy and wavered as she spoke. “No flying cows out there?”
His own voice shook as he spoke, and he couldn’t control it. “No, no flying cows.”
He thought his heart had started to slow its pace, but when he felt the light touch of her fingers on his chest, pressing over his heart, he lost it.
Without a word or a thought of the consequences of his actions, he tipped her head and brought his mouth down on hers and kissed her for all he was worth. Her arms wrapped around his back, and all thoughts of why he shouldn’t be doing this were forgotten. He kissed her with everything he had, from the bottom of his soul. For the desperation with which he kissed her, she kissed him back in equal measure. Maybe he had died and gone to heaven.
The muffled thud of a car door closing reminded Lionel that he was very much still on earth.
Very slowly he pulled back an inch, but only an inch and no more. If she pulled away from him, he thought his heart would surely tear in two. When she removed her hands from his back, he trailed his fingertips down her cheeks, keeping contact with her chin, needing to touch her, even in this small way. Instead of backing up, she rested her hands on his shoulders and, fortunately, remained silent, giving him the time he needed to think.
Lionel cupped her chin. Not moving, simply staring into her eyes, at that moment his heart said he loved her, but his head said it wasn’t possible. His common sense said they were nothing alike, but his soul said she complemented him where he was weak, and he would support her when she needed someone to hold her up as well.
He bent his head and brushed a short kiss to her lips, then released her.
Her face flushed and she backed up. “We’d better go outside and make sure everything’s okay.” In the space of two seconds, he was looking at the closed door, and he was alone inside his truck.
Gwen walked through the puddles of water and melting hailstones. She stopped beside the back trailer tires, drew in a deep breath, pressed her palms against the trailer, and leaned her forehead against it as well. The cold of the metal wall soothed the heat from her face but did nothing to still her pounding heart or strengthen her wobbly knees.
He’d kissed her. And she’d kissed him back.
No one had ever kissed her like that before. It had been scarier than the tornado. She hadn’t seen the tornado, but she had more than felt its effects. Conversely, she had seen Lionel but didn’t yet know the effects of what had happened between them. One thing she did know, Lionel Bradshaw was more dangerous than any tornado could ever be.
It was panic. Pure and simple.
Not that she would have kissed just anybody, tornado or not. She didn’t understand the instant friendship that had developed between them, but she was sure it had something to do with being with him almost nonstop, day and night. What she felt with Lionel confused her. This was different from anything she’d ever experienced, different from any relationship with any of her other friends, people she’d known for years. The immediate bond had thrown her, and panic made her respond.
There was no other explanation. She couldn’t get involved with a trucker. She had a life and a routine to get back to, a life and a routine she knew and liked and was comfortable with.
After kissing her like that, Lionel left her feeling far from comfortable, and she didn’t like it.
Very soon she had to go sit in the truck with him, not being apart from him unless one of them was sleeping, and pretend everything was okay.
Fortunately, they were near their destination, and soon they would be on their way home. By the time they were back to familiar territory, Uncle Chad’s truck would be fixed, and life would be back to normal, or as normal as it could be, considering she’d never done anything like this before.
The thud of the truck’s door sounded. She peeked under the trailer to see Lionel hop off the running board and approach one of the three cars nearby. People had exited the other two, but no one had come out of the little red one.
A surge of dread coursed through her. Her first thought was that it might be an older person—perhaps someone had a heart attack. She had never been more frightened in her life, and the sheer weight of the truck had made it ten times safer than a car. She couldn’t imagine what it would have been like for the other people.
She ran around the rear of the trailer, straight for the car.
Lionel opened the door before she arrived. She heaved a sigh of relief and skidded to a halt when instead of a person slumped over the wheel, inside was a woman clinging to two very frightened, screaming children.
Although she’d had some first aid training in her studies to become a teacher, she was much more comfortable handling crying children than sick or injured adults.
Before she could take charge, Lionel coaxed the woman, a little boy, and a preschool-aged girl outside. The boy wouldn’t let go of his mother’s leg, but the little girl practically jumped into Lionel’s arms, threw her arms around his neck, and sobbed freely while he stroked her hair.
A man from one of the other cars approached. “Radio says it’s petered out. Nothing touched down, a few homes and buildings damaged, nothing completely destroyed, some minor injuries, no deaths.”
“Praise the Lord,” Lionel murmured into the little girl’s hair.
The moisture had cooled the air somewhat, but the summer sun and blue skies were back. If it weren’t for the branches scattered on the ground, or the cars and truck helter-skelter on the highway, Gwen wou
ld never have been able to tell anything out of the ordinary had happened.
When the little girl was returned to her mother, Gwen and Lionel began their check of the air lines and tires before they resumed their journey. Not a word was spoken as they walked around the truck and trailer, falling into the same pattern they had every time they stopped, needing no elaboration.
Without asking, Gwen hopped through the driver’s door and started the engine. “It’s over,” she said as she engaged the clutch and threw the stick shift into first gear. “We made it.”
Lionel grinned, a cute little boyish grin that quickened her heart, even though it shouldn’t have.
“It’s not over yet,” he said. “After all that excitement, I have to visit the little boys’ room.”
Gwen groaned. Life on the road was a challenge in more ways than one.
Chapter 8
After she finished fueling the truck, Gwen parked it and walked into the restaurant.
When they first pulled into the truck stop she had gently suggested that Lionel shower after all the tense moments. Instead of being embarrassed, he’d burst out laughing, made a rather bad joke, and told her she’d have to fuel the truck and wash the windows herself. He had still been laughing when he walked into the truck stop office with his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, while all she could do was sit in the truck with her mouth hanging open.
She couldn’t believe the things that passed as conversation between them. She didn’t speak to her brother about the things she’d discussed with Lionel, yet she very much enjoyed the time she spent with him. There was only one explanation. She was losing her mind.
By the time she joined him in the truck stop’s coffee shop, there were two cups of coffee on the table and Lionel was reading the menu.