The Storm (Fairhope)

by Laura Lexington

  “It’s going well … we actually hope for a settlement within the next few months. His name is Jack Singleton; he’s my friend Sadie’s uncle.”

  He looked confused. “Who is that? Did Grace know her?”

  “Vaguely. Sadie is a few years younger than us, and I met her in Birmingham.” I nodded toward a photo on the fridge of Sadie and I huddled together, grinning, after a Florida Georgia Line concert the year before. “That’s her.”

  Instantly, the fatigue in his eyes was replaced with something elusive, something almost magical. His gaze locked on Sadie’s shocking red locks, fascinating green eyes, creamy skin, and, if I had to guess, the absence of a ring on her left hand. His mouth fell open a bit, giving him an intoxicated, love-at-first-sight expression.

  “God, she’s beautiful.”

  An expression of guilt overcame him as soon as he’d blurted out the words. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  I covered his hand with mine. “Gavin, there’s nothing wrong with finding another woman attractive. One day, you’re going to need to move on.” I jumped up to turn off the oven right as the timer sounded. “Perfect timing! Cookies coming right up! ”

  He turned his eyes away from the picture and closed them. “There won’t be anybody like Grace. Nobody could be that wonderful.”

  “She was one of a kind. But there will be a different kind of wonderful woman to love you and Emma, when the timing is right.” I eyed him carefully, hoping I was not overstepping any unspoken boundaries.

  “A different kind of wonderful,” he echoed slowly. “Be right back.” He headed toward the restroom.

  His cell phone vibrated on our granite countertops, next to the oven where he left it. I frowned with fleeting recognition as the screen lit up with a text.

  Gavin, this is Alex. I really need to talk to you. I can prove it to you!

  At Starbucks in Mobile … Grace was concerned about a man named Alex … but I swore she was ridiculous.

  Before I could try to interpret the strange paranoia burning in my gut, a second text came through. When can you talk?

  My breathing felt shallow. It’s nothing, Jana. Mind your own business.

  I tried to chase away my curiosity, but possibilities plagued my mind. What if he was a divorce lawyer? Could Gavin have truly been serious about leaving her? But, what could he need to prove?

  A sickening feeling polluted my being. Grace was manic before her death, the condition that precipitated her sky-high sex drive in the past … could she have cheated?

  No, don’t go there.

  Perhaps something positive … Grace said something about Gavin being tracked down by someone in the music industry. Or, what if Gavin was the star of a serious crime investigation that was top secret?

  So much for chasing off my curiosity, but what would I say? “Hey, Gavin! I’m really nosy and was wondering, who’s Alex?” No way.

  As Gavin devoured the warm cookies, teasing Calla with crumbs, I wondered if I should do some digging on this Alex.

  God, I needed retail therapy. Selfishly, I missed the days when I could scour the mall without fretting over my checking account balance, leaving with arms overloaded with shopping bags and one of those cookie critter sandwiches overflowing with gobs of icing in the middle. Compliant to Andrew’s frugality, I tried to find satisfaction in Great Value coffee and the occasional Snickers bar from a gas station. Andrew’s salary covered the bills, as long as we were careful, but I needed extra to fund my expensive art hobby. Although I was compensated poorly, I happily embraced an opportunity to teach two art classes at a local gallery. I was forced to apply makeup in the mornings and re-learned how to interact with adults, which were both simply fantastic.

  After one of my art classes, which I left victoriously after finding out one of my students landed a scholarship at the local university, Andrew slept most of the way to Birmingham while I drove. My hatred for the long drive was secondary to his fatigue, fueled by his ambition to succeed, which meant overtime and oodles of stress.

  We waited while Jack finished up a meeting with another client. Andrew squeezed my hand while I sat immersed in a romantic e-book, hoping the heroine did not fall apart after her nasty husband cheated. With our streak of tragedy, my own marriage should have been shaken, but Andrew never faltered, forgiving me when I lost my temper after sleepless nights and enduring hours of crying spells over Grace. When my libido refused to return to its pre-baby intensity, my birth control hit the trash and was replaced with a new one that promised to make me lusty. It gave me the opposite “problem” and I felt like a whore begging Andrew for sex. Remembering what an orgasm felt like made me feel alive again. So alive that I woke Andrew up in the middle of the night twice during the previous week, but my attempts to seduce him were met with a glare and a “Do you know what time it is?” look. Alas, it was my turn to experience solo sexuality.

  Trying to stop thinking about orgasms and retail therapy, I imagined being cooped up in the Cooks’ beach house in early fall, when the water was too cold, but the temperature outside was perfect, with no cell phone and no television. Just me, Andrew, Calla, my art, and the beautiful ocean surrounding us, giving me permission to forget the past year of my life. Maybe Mama for comic relief and occasional babysitting…

  I snapped out of my fantasy as the door opened, creaking loudly.

  An older couple walked out of Jack’s office with the same expression of relief that I wore after meeting with him for the first time. Jack’s calming demeanor soothed the worst of fears.

  Jack offered us bottles of water. “Since Covington Company has in-house attorneys, they may have more of an incentive to settle earlier since they do not bill by the hour. I’m surprised, but none are hired out.” His eyes darted from me to Andrew, making sure we were attentive. “I will keep this in laymen’s terms. Of course, Jeff denies discriminatory behavior and did have information filed with your human resources department. He states you were not cooperative with Collin, but he has nothing ‘on you’ worth worrying about. Your documentation, emails, sales results, and past annual reviews provide a strong dispute against his claims.”

  My throat constricted to the point of cutting off my breathing. That bastard. I couldn’t believe Jeff had contacted human resources. Andrew squeezed my hand tighter after cringing at my flaming face.

  Jack noticed my fiery disposition. “Don’t lose any sleep, Jana. ‘Not being cooperative’ isn’t going to help their case. This is going in your favor.”

  His trademark confident smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “If we can make it past the motion for summary judgment, your settlement will likely be much higher. Excuse me … when we make it past the motion for summary judgment, your settlement will be higher.”

  He raised his eyebrows and took a sip of water. “Covington’s attorneys are having a difficult time offering a legitimate non-discriminatory reason for your selection in the layoff, given that the deciding factor was Jeff’s subjective ratings, which are inconsistent with your track record. In your case, it is easy to argue that this rating was not based on a legitimate business reason, since you were inarguably a high performer, and your replacement does not even reside in the territory. Most companies rely on the unspoken assumption that employees will sign the severance package and move on.”

  Before I could open my mouth, Andrew’s eyes lit up. “How much money do you think she will get?”

  I glared at him. He made me sound like a car wreck victim with a crick in her neck clamoring for a million dollars.

  “Based on historical settlements, considering Jana’s rate of pay, the size of Covington Company, the emotional duress she suffered, and the strength of her case, I recommend seeking damages of seven hundred thousand dollars. As you may recall, we did not specify damages when we filed initially.”

  Andrew and I stared at one another in shock. Seven hundred thousand dollars!

  With finality, Jack added, “We won’t settle for less than five.”r />
  Jack twisted his neck to face me, a lock of shiny gray hair covering his left eye, giving him a mysterious air. “Jana, be sure to save those job leads you told me about that forbid the unemployed from applying.”

  I nodded dutifully. “I did.”

  He straightened in his worn leather chair, his face sobering.

  “Given your relationship to the former senator, I’m surprised the press has not contacted you yet. If they do, please respond that no comment at this time. After your settlement is safely in the bank, we will discuss interviewing.”

  PRESS? Interviewing? I never considered the possibility of either…

  Both Andrew and Jack stared at me as I sat frozen in fear.

  “Okay.” My voice was barely above a whisper. I willed my pulse to slow down, fearing a panic attack.

  “I understand this is not easy,” Jack said evenly. “Great reward requires great risk. Be strong, confident in your case, and your persistence will pay off.” He raised his eyebrows. “Are you ready for depositions in a few weeks?”

  No. The thought of depositions alone was enough to give me a heart attack. “I’m ready,” I lied. Only one week remained until I was face to face with my past.

  “What are your plans for the future?”

  “Given that the cat’s out of the bag about the lawsuit, I’m not sure if I am hirable. For now, I am teaching a few art classes on the side.”

  I felt shy as I shared my dreams with my attorney, who wanted to help them come true. “I never would have quit Covington, but now I hope to have my paintings showcased in galleries one day. I also want to do something, if I win, to help other women in this situation.”

  “Any ideas?”

  Andrew and I exchanged a glance. He nodded assuredly.

  “I want to create a website to help other women who are victims of gender discrimination, a site that is a source for women who are clueless on finding assistance and advice. It would include tips for handling discrimination in the workplace, a list of attorneys who handle cases, and general advice for working females and mothers. A working mom one-stop-shop. What do you think?” Self-conscious, I clasped my hands together as I awaited his opinion.

  Jack nodded his approval and straightened his checkered tie until it lay neatly on his chest. “That’s a phenomenal idea. Have you given any thought to website design?”

  I shook my head.

  He crossed his legs casually. “Sadie and her brother used to dabble in that.”

  I nearly jumped out of my seat with excitement. “Really?!”

  Andrew leaned forward, interested. “I’d say Sadie was brought into your life for a reason, Jana.”

  Nudging toward Jack, I laughed. “Yeah, I’d say so. It’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?”

  A tint of wisdom hinted in Jack’s smile. “There’s always a silver lining, and if you believe and don’t give up, all things truly do work together for good.”

  MONTHS AFTER GRACE’S death, I caught myself picking up the phone to call her. Sadly, I punched the red button as my heart filled with emptiness. I perched on the window seat in my dining area with my Bible in one hand and my Kindle in the other. I contemplated reading outside for the hour that remained before I was due to arrive at Mary Ellen’s house, but decided I was against sweating.

  Figuring that I would be discussing all things Jesus for hours that afternoon, I tapped my Kindle and lost myself in the sexy hockey star in my latest romance novel. By the time I cranked my car, I was ready to jump Andrew’s bones and dreaming of a second-chance-at-love story for Gavin.

  I learned to be respectfully quiet at my weekly study with my new girlfriends from the Cooks’ church. My mother-in-law insisted that I keep “searching for truth,” so I drug Holly along for moral support. These sweethearts, who unquestionably had their own issues, lacked my mother-in-law’s legalism. They offered the support and friendship that I needed as I rebuilt the identity of Jana Cook. To my surprise, I embraced the whole Catholic thing with increasing interest when I chose to keep an open mind. I finished the book his mother gave me and then made Andrew read it, bribing him with a whole Saturday of golf with Gavin.

  Mary Ellen, my mother-in-law’s stylish younger friend, could make the most boring passage pique my interest. This week, she led an in-depth discussion of the character of Abraham from the Old Testament. I hadn’t picked up the Old Testament since grade school days and dreaded reading it. The group only consisted of me, Mary Ellen, and Holly this week—two of the other girls were on vacation, and one could not find a babysitter. There was no hiding behind my hair with such a small group. I felt like they could look straight through me and see all my sins.

  “I know it was a lot to read this week,” dainty Mary Ellen began the discussion, crossing and uncrossing her short legs swiftly. “But we have a lot to learn about Abraham. I look at these characters as the nearly perfect men who God chose because of their holiness. But, that’s really not true.”

  She resembled an elf with her pointy black boots, rosy cheeks, and fluffy red ribbon woven through her curly locks. She passed around a plate of peanut butter brownies, and I eagerly grabbed one … then snatched a second before handing it to Holly.

  “I mean, imagine that God told you to leave your home, your inheritance, and your family simply because he said. God promised Abraham many things—that he would be made into a great nation, and that he would bless those who blessed him and curse those who cursed him. Sounds great, right?”

  Holly nodded, swallowing a tiny bite of brownie. I couldn’t help but notice her eyes bob up and down my thin legs as I stuffed a whole brownie in my mouth. “But Abraham could not see all of those things. He had to trust God that His promises would come to pass.” She paused thoughtfully. “I can think of so many times in my life that it seemed like God was leading me in a certain direction, but it seemed crazy.”

  “Oh yeah,” Mary Ellen agreed eagerly. “And God’s timing is so different than ours. Looking at Abraham and Sarah’s life, I cannot imagine how difficult it was for them as they waited for a child. But not waiting on God cost them a lot. If they had waited on God, Abraham may not have gotten the maidservant pregnant.”

  “If Andrew got some other woman pregnant, he wouldn’t have to worry about where God was leading him.” I winked precociously. “I’d put his ass six feet below the ground.” I started humming Carrie Underwood’s “Two Black Cadillacs.”

  Crap. I said ass in a bible study. Oops. Who invented the concept of “curse” words, anyway?

  My cheeks reddened a little.

  “Excuse my language, ladies. I forgot that I’m among stout Catholics.” I shrugged my shoulders innocently.

  My snide remark was met with laughter.

  A satisfied grin spread across my face, and I made the poor decision to snatch a third brownie. “Boy, Mary Ellen, these brownies are good.”

  “Please eat them all! I don’t need leftovers.” I chewed happily as she thumbed her way through the leader’s book.

  “Although Abraham made a mistake, God did not abandon him,” she said softly. “God still fulfilled His promise in time.” She nodded solemnly, scanning the rest of us for agreement. Was this where I was supposed to nod and say, “Amen?”

  “Sounds complicated to me,” I murmured instead, quickly gulping down my drink to shut myself up. I decorated my Princess Diana smile with a casual flip of my long hair. I should have just said something funny again.

  “Well, it is complicated—” Mary Ellen started.

  “How is teaching those art classes going?” Holly interrupted, crossing her long, thin legs and propping a fluffy pillow in her lap. Self-conscious of my naked eyes and lack of hairspray, I envied the six-pack that peeked from her transparent yellow camisole. Three kids and one gym membership later, she was still one hot mama.

  I still had my boobs, though. They were still top of the line.

  “Fine,” I answered and prayed no one brought up the lawsuit. Today, I just wa
nted to be a normal girl chilling with friends, scarfing down brownies, blabbing about her kid, and analyzing Abraham doing the deed with his maidservant. I wanted to forget the fact that Covington’s attorneys had requested yet another extension. Jack hoped it would be denied this time, but it was not likely.

  Mary Ellen snapped her fingers in my direction. “Okay, Jana, I don’t want to start gossip, and you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to…”

  I braced myself. Here it came…

  “Is Gavin Milton dating someone? I saw him with a cute blonde outside the station last week. She was reaching out to him, but he kept looking around … almost like he didn’t want anyone to see them.” She paused, biting her lip. “He’s so sweet, and that voice! He deserves to find love again.” They giggled and blushed, looking at me expectantly.

  Not what I was expecting.

  “I wish he’d sing to me,” Holly shrieked. “Just kidding. Kind of.” More giggles.

  Though open in a vacant stare, my eyes were shut. I was pregnant again, cruising with Grace beside me, our taste buds watering for coffee. He met some woman at the park. I relived her words with a shiver, the words of the girl I loved since childhood, the memories of the trademark laughter never to be heard again.

  With a sheepish expression, they quieted as my discomfort became apparent.

  This woman … she was likely a mom looking for her kids’ lost dog or a key element in an unsolved case, perhaps … but … if people were talking … what if it was possible that she was more than a friend or victim?

  Sometimes, I don’t think there will ever be anyone but her. Those words were not long since spoken. No, he was not dating anyone; he would not take dating lightly with Emma to consider. He would tell me…

  “Oh, Jana, I should have kept my mouth shut.” Mary Ellen was genuinely sorry, her shoulders drooping and pleasant features tensed.

  I avoided their watchful eyes. “He’s not seeing anyone.” The strange feelings that rested on me were unexplainable. I agreed more than anyone that Gavin should find love again, but something felt off. Maybe it was the nightmares, or the lawsuit, or the four top shelf margaritas I tossed back the night before, but I could not shake the ominous aura settled over me that a secret lurked somewhere.