Storm Tossed: A troubled woman finds peace with herself and God in the midst of life's storms.

by Beth Jones

  “She is at peace. She knew where she was going when she died. Some people don’t know until it’s too late. She went to her Jesus at last. I know she is so happy right now in His arms,” Jim said, looking up to smile at Andy through big tears. “Just wish I’d gone with her. I don’t know why He didn’t take me instead of her.”

  “No, man, don’t say that,” Andy said. “You’re still here for a reason. God left you here for a purpose.” Jim looked surprised at the prophecy, as did Ben and Mandy. Andy never talked about God. His whole world was surfing and cheeseburgers.

  “What about the others? So glad you guys are okay. Where’s Gail? Janine? Hey, Gail! Janine! Can you hear me?” Andy looked around, the pupils of his brown eyes enlarged. Mandy always teased him that he had puppy eyes. Big and always begging for attention. It made them both laugh. His colored, blonde-purple hair, which was his pride and joy, always meticulously styled in a spiked cut and sprayed until stiff, was now wet and flat. Mandy smiled, knowing if he could have seen it, he would freak out and be embarrassed.

  Ben and Mandy joined him, shouting for the others and swimming toward the living room stairs that led to the bedrooms and the second bathroom in the split-level home. Ben couldn’t figure out how everyone winded up in separate rooms when most of them were together when the storm hit, except for the twin sisters who were arguing by the stairs over Gail retiring to bed for the night.

  She was tired and she wanted to sleep in her own bed, she’d insisted. After her fudge brownie snack for the night, that is. She’d already eaten the brownie after supper, but had forgotten about it.

  Gail had Alzheimer’s disease, and Janine wasn’t sure that she fully understood the dangers of this storm. She’d tried to get Ben and Mandy to help her convince Gail to stay downstairs until the danger had passed.

  Gail had lived in Colorado her entire life and then retired from her high school history teacher’s position, to live with Janine in Florida, after Gail’s husband Ed suddenly died of carbon monoxide poisoning at his mining job. It was the most serious accident the company had in its 15-year history, and 10 families’ lives had been tragically affected with his and a co-worker’s death and eight other men who had to be treated at the hospital, in serious condition.

  Ed had a great retirement plan so Gail didn’t have to worry about finances, but her medical condition was growing worse and the costs for nursing care were prohibitive. Janine just couldn’t fly back and forth from Florida to Colorado all the time to make sure that her sister’s care was adequate and so Gail wouldn’t feel so alone. Gail’s four children rarely called or visited her. Her condition scared and frustrated them.

  Janine had insisted that Gail live with her when she began to realize that Gail’s symptoms were getting much worse and her mental facilities were rapidly deteriorating after Ed’s death.

  “I can’t take care of mom!” Janine’s niece Shannon had yelled into the phone in self-defense as Janine gently approached the topic of helping care for her in Colorado. “I’ve got my own 3 kids, my job at the hair salon, and Cole and I just don’t have the money for me to stay there for an indefinite period of time, flying back and forth from California. She may not die for years! I have my own life to live!”

  It was so cold and heartless. Janine simply couldn’t relate to not wanting to help people. Shannon’s two sisters and her brother said similar things. Their work. Their families. Their college course load. It was obvious that their mother was a last priority in their minds, and someone else’s problem.

  Janine couldn’t stand to see Gail put away in a nursing home in the care of strangers, feeling unloved and lonely in the last years of her life. She was already frightened enough and she had never recovered emotionally from Ed’s accident. She was not strong enough to be on her own. In some ways she was like a helpless child.

  The Alzheimer’s was in the beginning stages when Ed was still alive, and he wasn’t kind and compassionate about it. He would get angry and impatient at her memory lapses and accuse her of pretending to forget something. The medical bills were killing them, he’d tell her. Then he’d repent to God and be nice to her, for a little while, at least. She never seemed to notice that he was impatient and mean, or if she did, she didn’t say anything. She needed him. She depended on his love, his advice, and his money.

  Too dependent, her kids thought. She had no life of her own. No hobbies. Sure, she had her teaching job and was good at it, but it was just a job she did to help bring in extra money. She didn’t love it like they loved their careers. Her heart was always at home with her family. She wished the kids were little again, in diapers, coloring with crayons. Those were some of her most precious memories. She’d adored that time with her kids before she went to work full-time.

  Her husband and her kids were everything to her. Each year she planned for the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays, and each year she was disappointed when they didn’t come anymore after Ed’s death. When Ed died, she often said she wished she had died with him. She had a lot of self-pity parties. She battled depression and anxiety. She’d call them, asking questions about their day and begging them to come see her sometimes. She missed them and the grandkids. They made excuses. Maybe next month, mom, they’d say. Maybe Christmas in Colorado next year.

  None of them respected her. They, like their father, loved her but felt just contempt for her. The Alzheimer’s drove them away even further. It hurt to watch her lose her memory. They felt guilty for not wanting to be around her anymore. Occasionally they’d text, just to relieve their guilt. The texts made her day. When she moved to Florida to live with Janine, it alleviated some of her loneliness, but she always thought about her children and it hurt that they never called or visited. Janine felt that her family’s rejection made her condition worse.

  Gail was now talking, in between crying. “Janine, come on. We have to help the others. The storm hit. The hurricane hit. We’ve got to help them.”

  Ben and Andy swam over to Gail and Janine, who Gail was holding up by her arms in the water. Janine’s waist and legs floated limply in the water. Gail’s blue eyes were wide and frightened and her voice was becoming higher pitched with fear.

  “Oh, boys. Thank goodness you’re okay. How are the others? I just can’t get Janine to stand up straight. I think she has hurt herself. Can you help me here?” Gail’s face began to cloud with confusion.

  Ben looked over at Janine and grabbed her arm. She was dead, too. Oh God. He wanted to recoil instantly, but his concern right then was Gail’s frame of mind. Remembering his efforts of CPR with Paula and how futile they were, he decided it was Janine’s time to go, too. He was also afraid Gail would freak out if she knew right now. He looked over at Andy, who nodded, understanding immediately what had happened to Janine.

  “Gail, why don’t you go over there with Mandy? We’ll take care of Janine.”

  “Well, can you see how bad she’s hurt? She won’t answer me.”

  “Gail, go to Mandy. Can you swim a little? You okay?” Gail nodded, showing no signs of injury—again, a miracle. Ben was amazed again at God’s protection over them. Surely there were angels all around them!

  “Oh, good. Thank God you’re okay. Mandy, can you help Gail?” Ben looked over at his wife, shaking his head, hoping she would get what he was trying to communicate.

  She glanced over to Janine’s body, floating in the water, and her hand went to her mouth. Mandy and Janine had a special friendship. Janine had been mentoring her each week with a Bible study, and they had grown close in the last couple of months. Ben wanted to comfort his wife in that moment of shock, but he knew that their primary concern right now was for Gail to not go into hysterics. They all needed to keep calm and stay strong to still survive.

  “Oh no. Oh, Gail,” Mandy said, not thinking of her own needs and grief to focus now on Gail. “Come here, honey. Come over here.” As Gail turned to face Mandy, Ben closed Janine’s eyes. He looked sadly at Janine. She had been a godly woman and a gre
at friend to his wife. Mandy would really miss her. And she was Gail’s anchor. Who would take care of Gail now that she was gone? Where would she go? He had this feeling that Gail would be Mandy’s new love project, like the stray kittens she often took in—or the women and children she wanted to rescue from trafficking.

  Mandy swam away from Jim to the door, praying for God to strengthen Jim and to protect Gail’s mind when she learned the truth about her dead sister. This might send her over the edge. Gail loved Janine so much. Janine was really all she had now, with her husband gone and her children having little to do with her anymore.

  Mandy wondered how Ben was going to handle this, how and when he was going to tell her the truth. They couldn’t very well pretend that she was still alive. Should she tell her?

  She grabbed Gail’s hand and hugged her tight, telling her how glad she was that she was okay. But Mandy’s head was pounding now and she was freezing. She began to shiver. Gail was shaking, too, but Mandy wondered if that was from cold or fear or both. She hugged Gail to give her comfort and more warmth.

  She prayed for God to give Ben wisdom what to do to get them out of this house to safer, higher ground. Parts of the roof were still intact, amazingly, but the house was unstable. It might collapse and fall on top of them and kill them all. She knew they needed to act quickly.

  If Gail panicked or became hysterical learning that Janine was dead, it might hinder their efforts to get to safety. They also needed to get out of this freezing water before they all developed hypothermia. God only knew what was in the water; it could be contaminated and toxic. They needed to check on their neighbor, Rachel. Mandy prayed quickly for God to help them all, for Rachel’s safety, and for God to give them peace in this storm.

  Chapter 7: Aftermath

  Autumn poured the last of the sweet red wine into her teal blue crackle wine glass. She’d bought a set of four on sale from Pier 1 at Christmas. Now if only she had a special man and close friends to share it with! I could always call Dr. Goddard. But I’m not that desperate, she thought, snickering, and then she sighed deeply, frustrated at having no potential other candidates to spend a night with.

  Being alone sucks, she thought, taking a big swallow. She plopped a Godiva milk chocolate into her mouth and closed her eyes in relief as the chocolate melted on her tongue. Chocolate is the answer to life. What a day.

  She thought again of Morgan and Kelly, and hoped that Kelly would be released from the hospital soon and they would adjust quickly to the women’s shelter, where Autumn had arranged for them to stay temporarily for safety upon Kelly’s release from the hospital. The locks on Morgan’s home’s front and back doors hadn’t been changed yet; it was too risky. Morgan’s husband was unpredictable and dangerous.

  Autumn didn’t want to take a chance on sending them back there. She wouldn’t allow anyone’s death on her watch—either Morgan’s or the husband’s. She was concerned about Morgan carrying out her threat to kill him if she ever found a gun. Morgan and Kelly would continue meeting all week with therapists, social workers, and the police detectives working on Kelly’s case. Autumn would follow up a week from now, meeting Morgan and Kelly both at the outpatient county clinic.

  They’ll probably sleep better even at a women’s shelter. Hospitals are just not fun, she thought, grimacing. She would be glad when her internship was over and she could have her own private practice as a therapist. The hospital was good training ground, but she was ready to fly on her own and set up her private practice.

  She smiled remembering how Kelly opened right up to her today, showing her the blue and yellow butterfly she’d drawn on a paper with crayons. Autumn admired it greatly, saying what a great artist she was and Kelly smiled big, very proud of it. The children’s smiles were what she lived for.

  She hoped that Morgan’s husband, the scumbag, would be locked away for life for sexually abusing Kelly. How sick people are. That beautiful, innocent little girl’s life was now changed forever. She hoped Kelly wouldn’t become another statistic, with acting out behaviors in her teen years, becoming promiscuous, an alcoholic or drug addict, or pregnant out of wedlock before marriage. She’d seen many cases like this, and they usually winded up with the same sad results.

  God, why don’t you do something, she asked in silence, angrily.

  In the stillness of the room, suddenly Autumn heard a voice, not an audible one, but she was certain of hearing Someone speak to her heart. She heard the gentle but firm voice say, I did. I created you.

  That was part of the lyrics to Matthew West’s song, Do Something that she’d heard on the radio one day, riding with dad and Rachel to eat lunch at the plaza. Had God just spoken to her?

  She frowned, marinating on the words. Me? How could she do anything for anyone? She needed nurturing and care herself, in a huge way.

  Her mom was never there for her when she was little. She went from man to man, job to job, state to state, collecting college degrees like baseball cards, but never holding down a job—or a relationship—for long. She was searching, always searching for something, but didn’t know for what—or for who. She tried to use money and material things like beautiful clothes, furs, fancy cars, horses, and big mansions to fill her up, but it was obviously how empty she was inside.

  Autumn wasn’t a devout Christian, but she knew it was a God-sized void. Her mother needed Jesus. For that matter, Autumn needed to grow closer to God, too. She prayed to Him sometimes, but He often felt far away. She remembered Rachel saying once that God had never moved. That He was waiting for Autumn to crawl up in His lap and love on her.

  There was never any stability in Autumn’s life when she was growing up with her mom. All the different men. All the different schools and houses. She’d make friends, and then have to leave them when she moved. She’d have to start all over again, making friends and adjusting to a new school in another strange town. It really messed her up. She could never find anything to grasp, to hold onto.

  By the time she reached her pre-teen years, she was fed up with her mother’s self-absorption and changing men like clothes. She wanted a mother. A good one.

  Dad always said that a retarded cat had more of a mothering instinct that she did. One day, Autumn and her mom exchanged very angry words over Autumn’s “attitude” and accusations of not being a real mother, and her mom sent her to dad and Rachel’s house, telling Autumn not to bother ever calling her again. The rejection stung. Autumn thought she meant it.

  She remembered times in the past when she’d tried to hug her mom or just talk to her about her day at school, and her mother would just stiffen at the embrace or say she was busy and they’d talk later.

  But then when her mother wanted to talk, all about herself and the new, “gorgeous” man in her life who she was so in love with, and he was really rich, too, there was a torrent of words and Autumn was a forced prisoner to listen to it all.

  She resented it when her mother would make fun of dad and brag how she made so much more money than him now. So what? He was 10 times the person she was!

  But her mom often bribed her with Orange Leaf frozen yogurt or out to eat at Wild Things, her favorite hot wings restaurant, in order to keep her a captive audience, yacking about herself. Autumn kept hoping for a real relationship with her. It never happened.

  Autumn was finally sick of her mother’s bright red-lipstick self. She gladly moved to her dad’s house when she was a pre-teen, even though she and Rachel didn’t seem to get along very well during her visits in the summer. But anything could be better than this, right?

  It wasn’t. She and Rachel didn’t get along at all. They seemed to have this love-hate relationship. One day getting along and then the next day, all heck would break loose with them screaming at each other, mostly over Autumn’s broken curfews with boys on dates and Autumn’s slovenly habits. She still wasn’t a very good housekeeper to this day, even on her own. Who cared if her room was messy? It was her room. Why couldn’t she eat in her room instead o
f at the dining table with the family? Boring! She just wanted to talk on the phone to her friends or watch TV.

  Jackson’s insistence on a “family dinner time” was a joke. How could they be a family with all the arguing going on between Rachel and Autumn? Her dad was either delusional or a hopeless romantic. He wanted so desperately to have a loving family that he pretended not to see the real, deep-rooted issues going on right under his nose.

  Autumn resorted to hiding dishes in her closet, and forgot about them, and then they’d grow mold on them, which Rachel would find weeks later and shriek about them. Why was Rachel looking in her closet? On and on it went.

  Dad and Faith were in the middle of it all. Rachel’s and Autumn’s arguments caused a lot of strife between dad and Rachel, which made Autumn feel gleeful momentarily and then guilty when she’d see dad’s and Rachel’s sad, despairing faces. Faith would often just retreat, depressed again, to her room to draw or play stupid video games. All Faith wanted was for everyone to love each other and to be happy. Why couldn’t they just watch a good movie together and eat some popcorn, Faith would ask. Kind of hard to do when nobody is speaking to each other, Autumn would tell her sarcastically.

  The cloud of doom would last for days at their house until either Rachel or Autumn would apologize with a hug, a note or a text. Then the cycle would start all over again. They both wanted each other’s love, but they didn’t know how to get along.

  It was the same for Jackson and Rachel. Cycles of getting along, even fun times, and then it’d hit the fan from a little comment, a look, a mistake. Molehills made into mountains.

  Maybe it was all her fault and they’d be better off without her there. As soon as she could, Autumn moved out into the college dorm to earn her master’s degree to pursue her therapist career. She’d ask for occasional financial help from dad, but mostly she depended on Pell Grants, student loans, and her receptionist job at the mental health facility to pay her own bills.