by DiAnn Mills
She moaned. “No, I don’t, and I have no idea where to find one.”
“Never mind. I’ll get it open my way.”
Ryan’s frustration over the past several hours suddenly manifested itself in an all-out assault on the door. He kicked at it with a force that surprised him, nearly shattering his foot. For a moment he wondered if he’d broken it. Use a chair, Superman.
With renewed determination, he grabbed a chair and slammed its steel legs into the door, not once but several times. Finally he successfully made a hole. Reaching inside, he twisted the knob.
“It’s open,” he said more loudly than necessary, but the echo inched up his confidence level and hopefully kept Alina awake.
Ryan set the radio inside the door, then made his way up eight steps to where an access panel lifted up to the roof. The rain pelted him like sharp needles. How long could this keep up? Lightning flashed. His and Alina’s conversation about Noah took on more vivid form, except Noah didn’t have rising water on the first floor. He preferred looking for wayward snakes. Taking care of Alina and applying some humor to the situation might help him from going crazy, but he was scared and not too proud to admit it.
Ryan held the access door as a break from the wind and rain. His gaze swept in all directions, pitch black and no signs of emergency boats or helicopters. Ryan recalled the news: All of the people on this side of town had been evacuated. Why would anyone think to search for two people trapped in a building? Every few minutes the same weather report repeated with the same updates. Surely someone would have reported them missing. What about the call he’d made hours ago to the police station? Ryan clenched his fists. Panic only served to freeze up his thought processes and show a lack of trust in God.
God colored the big picture on a canvas too vast for Ryan to conceive. He purposed the outcome of this nightmare, and He didn’t need to file a missing person report. If death came in the hours ahead and heaven awaited them in the near future, how bad could that be? God knew exactly where they were, and His promises were the biggest comfort of all.
He grasped the umbrella and flashlight in one hand and climbed onto the roof. The access door crashed shut behind him, much like a clap of thunder. Alone on the roof with nature’s fury whipping around him, Ryan felt an eerie sensation veil him. While God orchestrated His creation in sights and sounds that could shake the mightiest of men, He also provided shelter. Bits and pieces of Scripture took on new meaning, strengthening Ryan’s faith in a supernatural display of profound assurance of God’s provisions. A blast of wind lashed through Ryan and sent him to his knees on the wet roof. The umbrella flipped inside out. The flashlight soared ten feet ahead. Lightning flashed above his head in a jagged streak. The sensation stole his breath. Yet a cloak of peace fell over him with such intensity that he wept aloud.
“My God, You and You alone are in control. Take away my pride and let me see only Your glory.”
Ear-piercing thunder shook the roof, and Ryan trembled. “Be still, and know that I am God. “
Time proved irrelevant as Ryan listened to the roar around him, but the terror subsided. With its dissipation, he sensed the courage to face whatever lay ahead.
Ryan stood and studied the malevolent sky. Rain poured on his face and offered a liquid stream of unfathomable joy in a dimension he would never be able to express. For certain, he’d treasure this communion until he met the Lord face-to-face.
He twisted the light sticks guaranteed to glow for several hours. One on each end of the roof would draw attention. Dawn would come around six thirty, and with morning came the expectation of someone finding them. He rested in the hope of light drawing out rescue workers to search for stranded victims once again.
Ryan climbed down into the small stairwell. He needed a few more moments alone before confronting Alina about a matter. Whatever lay in the future, sin festered in their past. Ignoring the black mountain between them didn’t make it disappear.
He flipped on the radio, although weather updates had been more of the same. A woeful song blared out about a man sitting alone in a bar. It ended, and another one began. If he never heard another country-western song again, he’d count it a blessing. Reality was not emotion-based but God-based.
News broke into the music. “Here’s the latest update on the flood situation in Radisen and the surrounding community. Rescue attempts are in progress for those stranded by the deluge flooding south-central Ohio. Where once local emergency officials believed everyone had found safety, the unrelenting rain has forced them out of their homes. Two more people have drowned in the wake of this torrential downpour, which brings our numbers to five deaths since yesterday afternoon. Various reports of missing persons have rescuers scanning the area. A late report confirms a volunteer was killed when struck by lightning. If you are in a danger zone, seek higher ground immediately. The governor has declared the south-central Ohio River region a disaster area.”
Big deal. What good is an official declaration? He lowered the volume. Helplessness inched through the pores of his skin. He sensed doubt prying at the doors of his heart. Prayer seemed so minute when he’d always been a man of purpose and action, yet the awe of God’s provision gripped him again.
His muscles ached from carrying equipment up the stairs. His back felt like someone had used it as a punching bag. Ignoring the stabs of pain, he pulled himself up from the step to check on Alina. The inevitable waited for him. Even if she refused to discuss the issue between them, he’d state the truth. He walked past her sleeping form to the stairs and shined the light downward; the water had reached within a foot of the first floor’s ceiling. No blaring trumpets, just a steady rise, a still, deep killer.
No point in putting it off any longer.
twenty-one
Saturday, 2:45 a.m.
Alina inched up from the serenity of deep sleep. She fought the waking. Luscious, sun-filled days enclosed her dream world, a safe place. One she didn’t want to leave. Anna laughed, called her name. Someone called Alina’s name. She stirred.
“Hey, sunshine,” Ryan said. “How’s the lump?”
“Much better, thanks to your ice pack.”
He gingerly lifted her head and lightly touched the back of it. “That’s my girl, but from the size of that knot, you’re stretching the truth again.” She heard the smile in his voice. Love swelled in her heart for a man she could never call her own. The bleak circumstances surrounding them failed to stop those deep-rooted emotions, the ones she dared not confess.
Alina tried to sit up despite the pounding in her head. “I’d concede to one more Tylenol and a bottle of water. They’re beside the paper bag.” She watched Ryan stumble about in his wet clothes. “Wouldn’t your dress slacks be more comfortable than those?”
He handed her the Tylenol and twisted the lid off the water bottle. “I think I’ll change. These coveralls feel like I’m carrying an extra fifty pounds. As soon as I’m finished, I’d like to talk.”
“What about?” She glanced toward the stairway. “The water’s rising faster than you thought, isn’t it?”
He glanced back and nodded. “We have a lot to discuss.”
She lay down and closed her eyes for a few minutes more. When she opened them again, she saw Ryan on his knees. The flickering candlelight lit up his silhouette: head bowed, hands clasped together in a tight fist. He’s praying. The rain hasn’t stopped. He must believe we’re destined to die.
“Ryan, let me pray with you. Don’t carry this burden alone.”
“I’m not. God has the biggest load. Go ahead and pray for us. I’ve bent His ear long enough. Your voice is sweeter than my raspy attempts at getting His attention.”
Although Ryan’s sense of humor surfaced in the turmoil, panic seized her, and she swallowed hard. “Father God, thank You for keeping us safe. You’ve provided food, clothing, and supplies for us tonight. You’ve also given us shelter, and we’re grateful. We ask for You to send help. We pray for all those who are alone and
frightened in this storm. Give them peace and the assurance of Your loving hand. Your Word assures us You will never leave or forsake us. Thank You.” Alina sobbed and fought to regain her composure. “Thank You that Ryan is here with me, and I don’t have to face the rest of the night without another Christian. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
The rain remained a steady sound. Any other time, the rhythmic flow would have lulled her to sleep. No thunder. No streaks of lightning. How deceptive.
“How much of the first floor is immersed?” She tried to mask the apprehension in her spirit.
“It’s nearing the top.”
Alina gasped. “What time is it?”
“About three.”
“We’re not going to make it, are we?”
He walked to her side and knelt down. “We have God, Alina. We both prayed, and it’s all we can do in the spiritual department. I don’t mean to sound disrespectful.” He shook his head. “I believe daylight is our key to getting rescued. In the meantime, I lit the light sticks on the roof.”
She shivered and wrapped her arms around her. “When you kicked the door in to get access to the roof, it was because of this—not just the light sticks.”
“I imagine we’ll end up there before long.”
She was glad for the shadows around them. At least he couldn’t see her fright.
“Alina, I want us to talk a moment.”
“About what?” Surely he didn’t plan to interrogate her about what happened to their engagement. “We did not honor God back then.”
She stiffened, determined to leave the past behind. “I wish you hadn’t brought up our … It’s easier to forget without a reminder.”
“But you haven’t forgotten, have you? We thought love gave us a license to act like we were married. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you.” He peered into her face as though expecting her to respond. If he chose to talk about what they’d done back then, he’d have a solo conversation. “More importantly, I should have put God first.”
“We weren’t Christians then.” Her heart raced. “I asked God for forgiveness.”
“So did I, but I never apologized to you.”
“It’s not necessary, but thanks. Ryan, we aren’t the same people today. Put it behind you. Go on with your life. You’ve confessed it to God and apologized to me. Nothing’s left.”
“Why are you bitter?”
“I’m not.” She swallowed. Her head hurt, and she shrugged. “Perhaps I’m a little bitter.” I’m in love with you and have more regrets than I care to admit. “God may have brought us here tonight for closure. My fault … I’m sorry about all the things I did to upset God and hurt you.”
There, she’d said it. “I meant every word, Ryan. What I did was inexcusable, but both of us need to move forward. I’m doing it.” What a lie. “Now please tell me about our predicament here.” She hated doing this to him.
He clenched his fist. “We need to gather up what we need and move to the stairwell.”
“Then wait for the water to rise there?”
“You got it. We’re racing against time and daylight. Plus the light sticks are an added bonus.”
“I’m frightened.” Another confession. “And I’m trusting God, but it doesn’t end the panic.”
“Does it help to know I feel the same way?”
She offered a nervous smile, for to speak would invite tears that would drown out any words. His admittance of fear melted her resolve to stay aloof, even if death loomed in the next few hours.
Ryan kneeled and drew her into his arms. Leaning against his chest, she closed her eyes and sobbed for several long moments. “I’m such a coward. I prayed, and now I cry.”
“You’re wrong. Look at how hard this afternoon and night have been, and you’ve done just fine. I believe we’ll get out of here.”
“I hope so. You always had a way with words, making me feel like things were better than they were.”
“Glad I still have the knack.”
He held her tightly, and she relished being held in his strong arms. “You are God’s messenger tonight,” she said.
“There are many things I could say, but I’m not sure God wants them said.”
“What do you mean?”
He sighed. “Does your head still hurt?”
“The Tylenol has helped. You haven’t answered my question.”
“It’s hard.”
And she understood that he hadn’t stopped loving her. She’d seen it in his eyes the moment they were alone in her office. “I’m not so sure I’m ready to hear what you have to say. I do wish things had been different.”
“Me, too. Lots of times.”
“You want to know why,” she said. When silence met Alina’s ears, a force stronger than her will prompted her to forge ahead. She’d vowed to keep those things locked in her heart until now. “I wanted to explain, but it’s all very ugly.”
“You were a private person.” He kissed the top of her head. She didn’t mind. For a few moments, she could indulge herself in remembering how it used to be between them.
“Guess I’ve been more open with you than anyone else, although I’ve talked to Deidre about some things about us.” She grew warm. “Not everything.”
“So what did you do, plan a lynching?”
She smiled, snuggling against his chest. “Not exactly. She read into my frustration the moment I told her we’d dated in college. And I told her about the first time you met my mother.”
He chuckled. “That was classic.”
She moistened her lips. Her gaze swept to the stairway where the lantern cast a shadow to the water gleaming wickedly a short distance away from them.
“Don’t look at the water.”
“Still reading my thoughts?”
“Of course. It has a long way to rise before the roof.”
She knew his words were meant to comfort her. Right now she had her own storm raging against her soul. Being nestled against his chest gave security a whole new meaning and spurred her on to reveal the truth.
“Tell me, Alina. I’ve waited six years to find out what changed your mind.”
If they died this night, did it make any difference? Except he’d push her away. But Deidre would say that sharing the burden was supposed to lighten the load. “I need to explain the situation about Anna and my responsibility to her. I accepted her care a long time ago.” She hesitated. Her head pounded.
“I remember in college you worked to help take care of her,” he said.
“There’s more to my commitment than the love I feel for her. It’s—it’s my fault she’s mentally challenged.”
Curiosity, woven with sadness, deepened around his eyes.
“Anna was born as normal and alive as we are. She and I used to chatter like a couple of little chipmunks.” Alina closed her eyes. “We played and got into all kinds of trouble until we were three, when she had an accident.”
“You don’t have to tell me this unless you want to,” he said. “My days of pushing you into situations are over.”
“But I must. It’s why I broke our engagement.” He squeezed her lightly, and she relished the affection, knowing in a few moments he’d be repulsed. “When Anna and I were three years old, Mom took us to a department store in Columbus. I wanted to play among the ladies’ dresses. I liked hiding my face in the folds of the skirts, but Mom insisted we stay right by her side. I saw a round rack of ladies’ robes and wanted to run across the aisle. I whispered to Anna to follow me.” She took a deep breath. “I slipped away, but Anna hesitated. When she decided to join me, a mirror fell from the ceiling on top of her.”
Ryan’s hold did not waver. “And you blame yourself for her accident? Hasn’t anyone ever told you it was the store’s neglect?” Indignation laced his words.
“Mom didn’t see it quite that way. She said I coerced Anna to follow me. If I had listened to her and behaved, Anna wouldn’t have suffered all these years. From then on, Mom blamed me for Anna’s han
dicap. I hadn’t obeyed, and God punished me by letting Anna get hurt. Mom never let me forget and reinforced the punishment by saying that I had to take care of my sister until the day I died.”
“That isn’t fair! She had no right to saddle you with unwarranted responsibility.” He said nothing for a few moments. “Now I understand the animosity between you and your mother. Whenever I heard her criticize you, I wanted to demand why. Maybe I should have.” He gently massaged her arm. “Surely you don’t believe Anna’s accident was your fault.”
She tilted her head. “Yes … and no. I disobeyed my mother, but I repented of my sin. God forgave me, but I don’t think Mom ever did. She went to her grave claiming I was responsible for Anna’s handicap. There are no relatives alive who visit Anna, and Dad died while we were very young. My point is that I can’t ever ask anyone to take me into their life—and Anna, too—especially with what I did.”
“That’s why you broke our engagement?”
She nodded. “Mom said I shouldn’t burden you with my problems. She said if I didn’t end the relationship, she’d tell you the truth.”
“And you believed her?” His voice rose. “What about how I felt?”
She pulled away from his stiffened body. The anger she’d feared seeing in him all along now surfaced. “I’m sorry, but I love Anna. Caring for her is not a duty or an obligation; it’s a joy.”
“I’m not upset about your love for her, nor your desire to make sure she’s taken care of properly. I admire your commitment to Anna.”
Confusion clouded her logic. “What do you mean?”
“I expected her to be a part of our lives one day. I’m angry because you believed your mother. She had no right to judge how I felt about the matter any more than she had a right to judge you as responsible for the accident.” A crack of thunder shook the building. She shuddered, and he took her hand. “Alina, I’ve never stopped loving you.”
Alina froze, paralyzed by what she’d heard. Ryan’s words whisked away the years of doubt and misery that had almost consumed her life. Afraid to move or utter a sound for fear he’d deny his love for her, she struggled for the right words.