The Secret Storm

by Peggy Trotter

  “Ake, about Ray.”

  “Wha?” He grabbed the ladder and adjusted it in the corner. Then he climbed to the ceiling, dragging the end of the long roll.

  She sidestepped the swaying insulation. Was it wise to distract him now? He adjusted the long swath of fiberglass in between two vertical two-by-fours and fired the staple gun into the wood. Stormi flinched. No way. She wandered back to the kitchen area and brewed some hot chocolate for herself.

  On the stool at the bar, peeking over the steaming cup, she had to admit the scenery was lovely. Hunky Ake made short work of sealing in the drafty wall with efficient movements. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought he was a construction worker. His bulky shoulders and burly bearded face made him well suited for a manly magazine cover.

  A grin crossed her face, and her brow twitched. She grabbed her phone. If no official photographer appeared in her kitchen, she’d be the first to record the pleasing man muscle for the imaginary issue. She snickered.

  He paused at the bottom of the ladder and glanced her way. “You laughing at me?”

  His serious face caused her pause. “Of course not. Well, maybe a little.”

  The expression on his face sucked the air from her lungs, and she sprang from the stool to hurry over to him. “Not like that, Ake.”

  A shadow passed over his stiff features. “How many ways are there to laugh at someone?”

  She reached up and grabbed his biceps. Whoa. Insulation-pumped swell. Firmly, she pulled her mind from the lure of his physicality. “I was thinking how you ought to be on the cover of a magazine. You know, something like, Construction Times. Or Home Improvement Newsletter.”

  He raised his brows. “Why?”

  She let out a laugh. “Have you looked at you?”

  His brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

  “Ake! You’re gorgeous.”

  He glanced off at the fireplace and then shrugged. As he scrubbed his beard, he turned sheepish. “I think you’re just changing the subject.”

  A laugh burst from her. “Are you kidding? I’ve known a lot of men…”

  Her voice skidded to an abrupt stop, and somberness plastered her instantly. She stepped back and turned her face against his probing stare.

  “Like Ray?”

  She clenched her teeth at his intense regard. “No, not like Ray.”

  He nodded, but his expressive dark eyes clearly confessed his doubt.

  “I’m serious, Ake. There’s nothing between Ray and me. I went out with him a couple of times just because, well, I got backed into a corner. I actually hated every moment of it, even if you don’t believe me.”

  His cheeks filled with air and then expelled with a whoosh. “Don’t reckon it matters. The stuff between us is just pretend, anyway.”

  Stormi narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. That statement jabbed at her sense of decency. He turned, grabbed a piece of insulation, and began to climb. She chewed her lip, disliking where the conversation had ended, but unwilling to start it up again with him dangling from a rickety ladder. Fine. She’d fix some lunch.

  The ladder continued to make metallic echoes behind her as she pulled the stew beef from the fridge. Thankful soup had been on her mind when she shopped last, she set the red meat in the frying pan to brown. Then she peeled and cut up the veggies. She grabbed the tomato juice from the cabinet and selected a variety of spices. Soon the room filled with delicious smells.

  She grinned as she buzzed around. Perhaps the way to thawing Ake was through his stomach as the old wife’s saying went. Either way, maybe it would open him up a bit. He seemed as tight as a clam today. She added refrigerated crescent rolls to the oven as the thick brown soup bubbled.

  Ake’s boots rang out as he thumped down the aluminum ladder once more, and she meandered to the far wall to meet him as he stepped to the concrete. “Hungry?”

  “Sure.”

  “You got time to take a break?”

  He nodded before setting aside his gear. She hurried across the room to pour the fragrant soup into bowls. He came over and settled on one of the stools. She grabbed the butter from the fridge and deposited the rolls in a basket. With a cheesy smile, she set her burden down and leaned forward, her hands planted on the counter.

  “What’s that?” Ake caressed her wrist right where the black swirls on her skin had peeked below her cuffs.

  She jerked her hands away, sending one of the bowls off the end of the counter. The glass shattered, sending hot stew and shards splattering across the floor. Tears rushed to her eyes, and she parked her wrists behind her back.

  He stood and rounded the counter, not to pick up the mess, but to stand in front of her. “You okay?”

  With a blink she nodded and spun to grab the paper towels. But he was there, taking it from her hands and plopping the roll on the counter. His hands, instead, gripped hers and brought them up, peeling away the sleeve of her shirt. His eyes met hers when she attempted to jerk away, but he held her easily.

  “Stormi?”

  Her throat convulsed. She couldn’t lie to him. She wouldn’t. The shame of the marks burned her soul. “I have…tattoos.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ake shrugged. “Oh.”

  Then he snatched up the roll of towels and set about gathering the stew covered glass fragments spread across the floor.

  What? That was it? No distaste? No disapproval? No disappointment, lectures, judgements, Bible references—nothing?

  “That’s it?” Those two words came out a little crass.

  He hesitated in mid-swipe and fixed his gaze on hers. “I’m sorry, what?”

  She tugged the sleeves over the inked black lace and glared at him. “Aren’t you going to reprimand me? Or give me a speech about the evils of tattoos?”

  He stood, his dark brows bunched. “Uh…no. Why?”

  A few breaths brought her fury into focus. Why was she upset? She blinked at him and realized she expected him to treat her like she would’ve reacted. His composure sent a wave of peace into her heart.

  “Well, it says in the Bible not to do it.”

  “I know.”

  She squirmed. “Doesn’t it repel you?”

  “Should it?”

  The man was definitely misnomered. He was no dummy. As a matter of fact, Stormi had never faced anyone with such profound wisdom. She probed his features. “I hope not.”

  A smile crept across his bearded face. “No danger there.”

  An overwhelming desire to hug him tugged at her, and she resisted the impulse. Had anyone ever fully accepted her like he did? Well, her friend, Alan, had never judged her, but Ake’s pure validation of her worth stole her breath. Her throat clogged, and she stopped battling the desire to wrap her arms about him.

  With a small cry, she rushed forward and embraced his muscled form.

  ***

  Ake froze into place. Hard to hug back with his hands filled with sharp pieces of stoneware. He settled his triceps on her shoulders, wishing he could make the most of her pity hug. Much like his prom date, Haven Griffith, whose boyfriend had been too old to attend the school function, for that was all it was. Still, Hoge wasn’t even present, nor the twins. It made it seem real.

  “You oughta come with me to Hoge’s.”

  She pulled away. “What? Uhhh. No.”

  Ake moved to toss the rubbish in the trash and returned to the spill, where Stormi now knelt.

  He dropped to his knees. “My sister-in-law said I should bring you. It’s our weekly family dinner.”

  She scrubbed at the spatters. “I don’t think that would be smart.”

  He paused. “I suppose not.”

  In the middle of a wipe, she hesitated and sat back on her haunches to study him. He tried to hide his hurt at her choice of words. “Who will be there?”

  “Mom and Pop, Hoge, Joni, and their four kids. The usual bunch.”

  She continued to eye him so he offered a smile a
nd curve of his brow. A sparkle lit her eyes, and humor tugged at her mouth. “You’ll protect me from your overbearing brother?”

  Pleasure widened his grin. He held up two fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  A giggle escaped her, and she tipped her head back, exposing her fine delicate throat. “Fine. I’ll go.”

  He beamed, memorizing every delightful plane of her face. Even if it were all for show, he’d take it.

  ***

  The hammering on Ake’s front door brought him out of a deep sleep. His mother’s frantic voice sped him to a jog as he pulled on a shirt. He ripped open the door and there she stood, tears frozen to her face, no coat.

  “Pop’s out.”

  “Oh, dear Lord.” He pulled his freezing mother into the house.

  “No, Ake, I can’t. I have to find him.”

  He ran to his room and yanked his coveralls from the closet. After jumping into his boots, he grabbed another coat. His mother met him in the hall, and he wrapped her up and tugged a stocking cap over her gray curls. There was no way she’d sit inside while he searched.

  “You call Hoge?”

  She shook her head.

  “We’ll start and if he doesn’t turn up—”

  A crash sounded from the garage. His mother gripped his arms and sobbed. “Oh, thank you, Jesus, thank you.”

  Ake parted from her and rushed to the garage door. Sure enough, Pop stood near Ake’s work bench staring at the metal pieces on the floor.

  He looked up at him with rheumy eyes and shook his head. “You gotta pick up your toys, Son.”

  Ake’s throat filled with emotion as he wrapped his arms around his hunched father. “Sure, Pop. I’ll get right to that.”

  He led him inside to join Mom on the couch. She laid her hands on her husband’s cheeks and pressed her head against his.

  With a thankful prayer on his lips, Ake fell into the recliner. Tomorrow he’d get in touch with Hoge. Maybe he had another idea. The lock he’d installed near the top of the door hadn’t kept Pop in for very long. Dear God, Ake didn’t want to dwell on the outcome had his mother not realized his father’s absence. But for tonight, he’d sleep in front of one door and Mom in the recliner in front of the other. He prayed that was enough.

  Yet no matter how many blankets his mother had stacked on the floor in front of the drafty door, wisps of icy air found its way in. Ake adjusted the blankets covering his body to try to block the cold against his back and went back to daydreaming. Now, how far up did that tattoo go? He knew his family would be shocked to know Stormi was inked. Judging from her strange reaction, the motif brought her no peace either, and he wondered if that meant she’d had it done before her conversion.

  He regretted not discussing it further, biblically speaking. He knew that statement existed in Leviticus. They’d studied it at church. Perhaps it would have eased Stormi to know the context of the verse. It wasn’t a commandment, after all.

  Either way, how far did that tattoo travel? This was of intense interest to him. Strangely enough, he found himself quite obsessed by her decorated skin and wished he’d asked to see the whole design. But that would have been of bad taste, and his mother had worked too hard to make sure he didn’t overstep social boundaries.

  Still, the lacy pattern had piqued his interest. Such a great fortune she’d wrecked the bowl on the floor. He might have sat there stroking her soft skin, exploring the delicate black filigree. Had he seen a blue flower?

  With effort he tugged his mind from exploring further and fixed his mind on her boldness. Man, that woman had no fear. Strutted right up to him and called him gorgeous. Then pulled a cocky grin, not a blush in sight. Hoge would call her brazen. Maybe even a hussy. He cringed. Ake knew in his heart she wasn’t that kind of a woman. Although her mention of many men had shook him for a moment.

  Did that really matter to him? Yes and no. She wasn’t his and never would be, yet thinking of other men with her cut the heart from him. Whole package, she was hands down the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. His first kiss.

  Shuffling footsteps paused his line of thoughts. Pop’s frail form hesitated in the doorway between the dining area and the living room. Mom’s soft voice floated to him as she eased from the recliner to escort him back to the bedroom.

  He sighed. Enough pulling dreams from the clouds. His parents needed his prayers. He fell asleep with the sounds of his own whispers appealing to the Lord on high.

  ***

  Hoge shot Stormi darts of blue death from the depths of his eyes from across the table. It was fun trying to construct poetic ways to describe the narrowed look he slung her way. She slid her hand into Ake’s huge one just to see his brother simmer.

  But Joni had no problem gushing over Stormi accompanying her brother-in-law to the family meal night. Baked spaghetti with pepperonis and breadsticks tasted delicious, and it was humorous to see how much food the men could absorb. And if Hoge thought his glowering hatred scared her off one bit, well, he hadn’t met her mother yet.

  “What? Why didn’t you call me?” Hoge’s voice rose in a growl.

  Stormi pulled away from her thoughts to catch up with the current subject.

  “Because we found him.”

  Ake’s low voice reminded her of the Bible verse she’d read this morning. Proverbs 15:1, “A soft and gentle and thoughtful answer turns away wrath.” Poor Ake probably had a lifetime to practice that with his gruff brother. She, on the other hand, needed a lot more practice.

  “That’s no reason not to let me know when Pop is out in the weather.”

  Ake’s mother shook her head. “Now, Hoge.”

  “Ma, you should have told me.”

  She gave a weathered smile. “And we did. Now, we need to know if you have some thoughts about avoiding that again.”

  “Listen to your mother.” Pop chimed in.

  Hoge rolled his eyes. “Yes, Pop.”

  Ake’s dad rose and shuffled down the hallway. Stormi felt Ake’s hand tighten, and she cast a glance at him. Even though he maintained a calm exterior and a positive manner, knowing his father had been in danger had affected him. She could tell by the stiffness in his bearded cheeks, but gentleness occupied his eyes which captivated her more each day.

  “We can make do, Mom,” Ake offered.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Ake. You and mom sleeping at the doors is simply idiotic.”

  Stung, a retort leaped to her mouth, but Stormi stifled it. Why did he revel in insulting his brother’s intelligence? She turned to Ake, but his black eyes were guileless. Her heart squeezed. She longed to rest her head against his chest and stroke the tenseness from his face.

  Whoa. She pulled herself upright. Crazy jumping in to a family disagreement. Only, her concern centered around Ake. In some strange way, she wanted to defend him, protect him. His brother showed no mercy. She bit the inside of her lip to keep a retort from flying out.

  Hoge lowered his voice. “We’ll get an alarm system on the windows and doors. You can arm it at night, or day for that matter, and then you’ll know when he’s gone out.”

  Mom turned her face to Ake. “Will you know how to do that?”

  Hoge expelled a hiss. “It’s not hard, Ma. Any idiot could do it, including Dummy.”

  Stormi sprang up. She could hold it no longer. “Why do you do that?”

  The big man reared back and fastened a scowl on her. “What are you talking about?”

  “Insinuate Ake’s obtuse.”

  Ake tugged on her hand. “It’s okay.”

  She huffed. “No. It’s not.”

  Silence cloaked the occupants at the table while Hoge continued to glare at her.

  “She has a point, Dear,” Ake’s mother agreed.

  The gaze Hoge flicked in his mother’s direction didn’t lessen the dislike present in his eyes when he returned to frown at Stormi.

  Joni stood. “How about cherry dump cake? Still warm. I think I have ice cream, too. Who’s in?”

&
nbsp; The kids appeared like magic and circumvented the table with excited cries, masking the near silence at the table. Stormi cut her eyes from Hoge, who seemed set on staring her under the table. She wanted to let out a snort. Surviving her dysfunctional upbringing and the consequences of her idiotic choices gave her a decided advantage. Stubbornness stiffened her jaw, but one half smile from Ake dissolved it. Somehow, she was going to stop Hoge, and everyone else, from calling Ake that horrible name.

  ***

  Stormi glared at the blue screen. Her laptop was kaput. Death by OS, never welcome news. It meant she had to get a new system. Her podcast was due by tomorrow. She had to get online and fast. Her gaze shifted to the lone window. Snow. All the freaking time. Did it ever stop here? She had her doubts.

  It’s not like she hated it. It hated her. Kept her little Saturn skittering across the slippery road. She strode to the window and parked her hands on her hips. The big fluffy flakes were busy again, bringing a moving lacy look to the outside world. Gorgeous, but aggravating. She groaned and crossed her arms. Ake drove in the stuff like Santa.

  She set a fist to her lips. A skidding she would go, or ask Ake. Duh. No brainer. The corner of her mouth quirked. The poor man. He’d inherited an annoying little sister. She scowled. That didn’t set right. There was no way she’d think of Ake as a brother. She’d kissed him for Heaven’s sake. More like a…what? Was there a title for the type of relationship she had with Ake? The thought sobered her.

  No. She’d do this herself and pray for the best. Yes. Good. A sigh burst from her in a long hiss. Then why did disappointment tromp all over her insides? She growled and spun. At the door she grabbed her coat and turquoise beanie and shoved them on. She swiped her purse from the counter. Ake would know nothing about computers, so she nixed the idea of bringing him along.

  The back door gave a loud protesting squeak as she shoved it closed. The snowflakes assaulted her as she twisted the key in the lock. Face reality. She didn’t want Ake for his expertise in computer technology, she wanted him to drive. Her gaze swept the white landscape. Wow. That was pretty self-serving. Not to mention a lie. She adored his presence. Even if he didn’t speak, she fed off his goodness. His strength.