Mother of Prevention (4 page)

I knew I had to talk to someone. Anyone.

Quietly I walked to the desk phone, not having the slightest idea whom I’d call. Not Mom—I loved her dearly, but she didn’t understand, thank God, how deep the pain cut.

If I had a sister…but I didn’t. Or a brother. Not even friends close enough to call at this hour of the morning.

My eyes focused on the prayer sheet I’d brought home Neil’s and my last Sunday together. The pastor’s home phone number stood out. Did I dare? A moment later I picked up the receiver and punched the numerical pad.

Two rings later a man answered. I don’t know if Joe Crockett recognized my voice. I don’t see how he could have, because I was sobbing by now, incoherent, but he managed to single out who I was.

“Pastor Joe…I…need you,” I managed.

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, Kate.”

I got dressed, and when I let him in it was close to two-thirty. Surely the church didn’t pay him well enough to climb out of a warm bed on a cold winter’s night and come to a distraught female’s rescue.

He handed me his topcoat and hat, then quietly followed me into the kitchen. We sat across the table from each other. I didn’t know where to begin. So I just admitted the truth.

“I can’t do this alone.”

“You are not alone,” he said. “You feel alone, but God is with you, Kate.”

“God.” I shook my head, resentment welling up in my throat.

“He’s promised never to leave us, Kate, but He hasn’t promised that we’ll always feel His presence. I know you feel utterly alone and forsaken right now.”

“Why did God take Neil?” I looked up, tears running down my cheeks. “I
begged
Him not to take Neil—for years I’ve begged Him. Why did He do this to me?” My voice broke, tears obstructing my voice.

He shook his head and sighed. “I can’t answer that. But I’m here. I care—the church cares. God cares.”

I didn’t care.

Pastor Joe was kind and the church had been supportive, but Neil was gone, and there was nothing anyone could do or say to bring him back. I knew the next thing he’d be telling me was that God uses our bad experiences to make us stronger, and I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to be stronger. I wanted my husband back—in this house—laughing, playing with Sailor, teasing Kelli, helping Kris with her homework. Loving me.

We sat in the silent kitchen and he clasped my hand in comfort. The warmth of another living, breathing adult helped, made the dark house feel less threatening and cold.

“Tell me how I go on.” I thought of the Colorado flight in a little under three hours. Leaving my girls for the first time since we’d become a family of three. Three was an uneven number….

“It will take time, Kate. Days. Weeks—maybe years. The grieving process is different for all of us. It will be time you won’t want to give, but eventually you’ll be able to go on. You’re a strong young woman. I have utmost confidence in your ability to survive.”

I don’t know where the conversation would have taken us if the pastor hadn’t heard Sailor scratching at the back door. I’d forgotten to let him in before I went to bed.

“That’s Sailor. He wants to come in,” I said.

“I’ll take care of it.” He got up and walked to the back door, unlatched and opened it. Sailor entered the house on a rush of cold air.

“Drop it!” Pastor Joe shouted.

Startled, I sat up straighter. “Pardon?”

“Drop it!” He backed up, keeping his distance from the dog. I rose slightly and peered over the edge of the table. My jaw dropped. Sailor had the snake in his mouth. A black tail wildly gyrated back and forth.

“Sailor! Drop it!” Pastor Joe repeated sternly.

“No! Don’t drop it!” I sprang up, wondering what I’d done with the bat. This snake was like a plague!

Sailor wagged his tail and dropped it. The snake was badly injured but still alive.

“How in the world?” I breathed.

“Yow.” Joe’s eyes focused on the disappearing reptile.

“Mommy?” Kris came into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.

“Kris! Get back!”

My daughter jumped, her eyes darting to the pastor, then back to me. “What…?”

“The snake! Sailor carried it into the house.”

What had I done? Committed the unpardonable sin? Was God punishing me? Could I expect a plague of grasshoppers or a swarm of locusts next?

“Where’s the ball bat?” I asked.

Wide-eyed, Kris pointed upstairs. “You left it by the attic door.”

“Stay where you are,” Joe commanded. “I’ll take care of it.” Joe sidestepped me, grabbed the snake behind the head and took it briskly outside. Kris and I continued to balance on top of a kitchen chair.

Sailor stood in the middle of the floor, obviously proud of his show-and-tell display.

“Sailor. Bad dog,” I scolded.

Kris clung to my robe. “Mommy, you said you’d gotten rid of the snake.”

“I know, dear. I thought I had.” That snake had nine lives—all intended to test me.

When Joe returned, it was close to 4:00 a.m. and time for me to get up.

He had disposed of the snake—where or how I didn’t ask. I only hoped this was a permanent riddance. I dragged Kelli out of a warm bed and dressed her. Pastor Joe helped carry two sleepy children outside to the garage.

After stowing our luggage in back, he wished me well, and casually assured a worried Kelli that Mommy would be coming back. He stepped back and watched as I backed the van out of the garage and sped off in the gray dawn.

As I adjusted my rearview mirror I suddenly realized he’d never answered my question. How
did
I go on?

I guess no mere human held the secret. No one could explain how anyone lived through times like this and kept their sanity. Or their faith. I realized that I was mad at God. Livid. He’d taken the best part of my life, other than Kelli and Kris. How could I be anything but bitter?

S
ince Neil had died I had been knee-deep in paperwork. I had no idea there was so much involved in dying. Not for the deceased, but for the ones left behind. It was like mopping up after a public disaster; only, this tragedy was private and mine. I had signed papers, taken care of trusts, filed insurance papers and I still wasn’t finished. I couldn’t believe that Neil died and left me to cope. I gazed out the kitchen window at the two holly trees he had planted six years ago. They’d been just twigs back then. Now they were at least five feet tall and one of them sparkled with bright red berries. He had planted a male and a female tree, explaining that was necessary if we wanted berries.

I blinked back tears. It seemed as if everything came in pairs. Everything except me.
Alone
was a terrible word. The Colorado trip had gone surprisingly well. I had another trip coming up tomorrow—Arizona this time. The girls had made it all right without me, thanks to Mrs. Murphy, but I had still
felt guilty about leaving them, and now I was getting ready to leave them again.

The phone rang, jerking me out of my thoughts. I reached for the receiver on the second ring.

“Kate? That you?” It was Nancy Whitaker, one of the stylists I worked with at the salon. Why would she be calling on a Sunday night?

“It’s me.”

“I stopped by the shop for a minute and found you had forgotten to take your briefcase. Won’t you need it on your trip?”

I groaned. My teaching material. Of course I’d need it. How could I have been so careless? “Rats. I’ll have to detour by in the morning and pick it up. Or if you’re going to be there for a while I can run over now.”

“Don’t do that.” Nancy paused. “Tell you what. I’ll drop it by on my way home. Will that work?”

“That would be great. I still have to pack, and the kids haven’t eaten yet.”

She promised to drop by and we broke the connection. I dug a pizza out of the freezer. Junk food again. I had zero interest in cooking. I fed the girls whatever was handy, and sometimes the meals weren’t exactly balanced. Corn chips and baloney sandwiches. Boxed macaroni and cheese. As for me, I’d lost ten pounds I didn’t need to lose. My appetite was gone.

I wandered into the bedroom trying to decide what to take with me, although by now I had narrowed my travel outfits down to a few that would pack well with the least amount of wrinkles. I shuffled aimlessly through my side of the closet, not really caring what I wore. I made a few selections, folded them and plopped them in the suitcase.

Kris hovered in the doorway. “You never did bake those chocolate chip cookies.”

I stared at her, trying to remember. What cookies?

“For my school party,” she prodded.

I shook my head to clear the fog. “Honey, that’s long over.”

The color in her cheeks heightened. “I know that. I’m not a baby.”

“Well, then, your point is?”

“We could still bake cookies.” She met my gaze, looking defiant. “I sort of promised.”

I sat down on the bed trying to figure out what we were talking about. “Promised what?” I asked gently.

She lifted her eyes to meet mine. “I told Mrs. Harrison that I could bring cookies tomorrow. We don’t ever get anything special in class for just because.”

I swallowed hard. “Just because” was a catchword in our house. Anytime we did something nice or bought a present for someone for no particular reason, it was a “just because” gift. Just because I love you. My eyes touched a well-known brand of perfume in a cut-glass bottle. Expensive and unexpected. My last just because gift from Neil.

I looked at Kris, noting the flush staining her cheeks, the hesitant expression. Had I actually sent her to school wearing that purple-and-black-plaid skirt with a golden-yellow-and-black-striped shirt? She looked like a walking ad for crepe paper. What had I been thinking? Or more to the point, why wasn’t I thinking? I seemed to be lost in a fog most of the time. And had I, in my preoccupation, caused her to look so insecure?

I realized she was still waiting for an answer. “Okay. One batch of cookies coming up. Chocolate chip okay?”

She grinned, relief crossing her youthful features. “That would be great, Mom.”

I nodded. “Consider it done. I’ll finish up here and then we’ll get started.”

My daughter took a deep breath, as if steeling herself. “And can we go back to church next week?”

Well, now. I hadn’t seen that one coming. We hadn’t been back to church since Neil’s funeral. I knew the girls missed their friends and church activities, but I wasn’t yet ready to face
our favorite pew where Neil and I had sat together. Besides, I was uncertain right now that there even was a God. He had ignored my pleas to keep Neil safe. How could I trust Him again?

Kris was still waiting for an answer, and I forced a smile. “We’ll see. Run along now and let me finish packing.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded. Judging from her expression, I hadn’t fooled her. “We’ll see” probably meant “no,” and she knew it. I sighed. Life had gotten complicated and I wasn’t mentally equipped to handle complicated. Maybe I wasn’t spiritually equipped, either.

Kris left and I glanced around the room for forgotten items before closing my suitcase. When I got back I’d have to tackle Neil’s personal belongings. So far I had kept his side of the closet closed, unable to face the thought of getting rid of anything.

The doorbell rang and I answered, to find Nancy holding my briefcase. Tall, slender, with a head of silver-blond hair she wore in a tousled mop, she looked like the typical feather-brained blonde. Behind that pretty face resided a sharp intellect and a friendly compassionate manner. She was a favorite among La Chic customers.

“You okay, girl?” she asked.

I dredged up a smile. “I’m okay.”

“Look, if traveling is too much for you to handle, you need to tell Maria. She can work it out.”

The idea sounded tempting, but I knew giving up traveling would amount to a cut in salary, something I wasn’t prepared to accept. What if I became incapacitated and couldn’t work? We’d need everything I could earn now to get us by without dipping into the insurance money. Maria, the elegant manager of La Chic, would probably be flexible, but for now I’d try to carry on.

Nancy and I attended the same church, and she was aware I had been staying away from services. She didn’t mention it, though, probably thinking that I didn’t need the pressure right now.

She reached out to grasp both my hands. “I know flying makes you nervous.”

“Particularly in winter,” I admitted. “Every time I see them deice the wings I start praying.”

Nancy nodded encouragement. “We’ll both pray that God will see you safely through.”

She left, and I shut the door and locked it. I thought about what she had just said. Flying did make me nervous, but I had always trusted in God to bring me safely home. Sometimes I had even enjoyed the takeoffs and landings. But I had lost faith in the power of prayer. My husband had started every day with prayer. Why had God looked the other way when Neil was trapped in that burning building? God owed me some answers.

I wandered into the kitchen and got out the cookbook, looking for my chocolate chip recipe. The weather was unseasonably warm for October. Sailor had been playing out in the backyard all afternoon, but now he scratched at the back door. I let him in and turned my attention to assembling cookie ingredients. It took only a few minutes to mix the dough, and, like the girls, I was looking forward to freshly baked cookies. Maybe I’d put together some ice-cream sandwiches using warm cookies. It sounded good, and for a brief moment I thought perhaps I was regaining my appetite.

Sailor was acting weird tonight, hovering around my feet until I almost tripped over him. “Kelli,” I called. “Come get this dog! He’s in the way.”

My youngest daughter wandered into the kitchen, pouting. “Poor Sailor. Nobody loves him except me.”

“Yeah, right,” I muttered. “Look, I have to light this oven. I don’t need any distractions, okay?” The temperamental thing could blow sky-high. Well, not literally. Last month Neil had called a serviceman to look at the gas monstrosity and he’d pronounced the relic safe. Just old and cranky.

Kelli scooped the dog up in her arms. “All right. Come on, Sailor. We’ll watch from here.”

“I should sell tickets?” I wiggled my eyebrows at her, in a pitiful imitation of Groucho Marx. My daughter, of course, had never seen the great Groucho, so she simply stared at me as if I had lost my mind.

“All right, I’ll provide the evening entertainment, but stand back out of the way.”

“Don’t worry,” Kelli said. “I’ll be ready to run if the stove blows up.”

“Oh, yeah? You expect that to happen?”

Her expression was way too serious. “You always say it’s going to.”

That stopped me in my tracks. Had I infected my children with my fear of this stove? I tried to laugh. “Don’t worry. There’s no danger of the stove blowing up. I was only joking.” Wasn’t I?

I hunted for the long fireplace matches someone had given us. They had always seemed a strange gift, since we don’t have a fireplace. Never had. I found the matches in the top cabinet lurking behind a jar of molasses, bought earlier to make gingerbread houses, which had gone unmade.

Lighting this monstrosity was actually a two-man job, but tonight I’d have to do it on my own. Our house was old and so were our appliances. The stove must have come over on the ark. I paused a foolish moment to wonder if there was a second one out there somewhere making some other woman’s life miserable. Or if this was something else that didn’t come in pairs?

I knelt in front of the stove and turned on the gas and was rewarded with a furious hiss. Satisfied it was working, I scraped the match across the flint. Nothing. Another match, no spark.

We’d had these matches for ages. They were probably too old to ignite. I fished out another one, forgetting I had left the gas on while I played with matches. This one flamed almost immediately, and I breathed a sigh of relief and extended it toward the oven, neglecting to turn my face to the side the way I usually did.

For a long moment I hung in limbo. Then,
voom!
The mother of all explosions shot a sheet of fire in my direction.

Blue flames rose like a Yellowstone geyser.

I reached out a trembling hand to adjust the controls, and the monster stopped roaring and started purring. Sighing, I shakily got to my feet. My face felt as hot as a roasted marshmallow. I promised myself to replace this stove as soon as possible. Now that I was down to one paycheck per week, and not wanting to tap into our emergency fund, it didn’t look as if “possible” would be coming around anytime soon.

“Wow!” Kelli said. “That was awesome.”

“Wasn’t it?” I agreed. “Better than Fourth of July fireworks.”

She frowned. “Are you all right, Mom?”

“Sure. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look sort of funny.”

Well, that was a given. I’d come within an inch of being roasted. Yeah, I probably looked goggle-eyed from the shock. I felt a tremor of pride. I’d lit that stove, and when it spit flames at me, I hadn’t even screamed. I was maturing.

“I’m okay. Right now I’m going to bake chocolate chip cookies, and when I’m through we’ll make ice-cream sandwiches. How does that sound?”

“Awesome!” She ran from the room, shouting at Kris. “Mom’s lit the stove and it didn’t blow up!”

I grinned. Kelli was a wordsmith. She collected words and phrases the way other kids collected favorite toys.
Awesome
was her latest.

The day, which had been sunny, was suddenly overcast. I stepped to the back door and cast an anxious glance at the sky. It was too hot for this time of year.

After watching the racing clouds for a few moments I went back inside and turned on the kitchen television. Worry was setting in. Almost immediately a weather crawl appeared across the bottom of the screen. “A tornado warning is in effect for
Oklahoma City from four o’clock central mountain time until 5:30 p.m. Stay tuned to this station for updates.”

Tornado. And a warning, not a watch. More serious. Tornado alley again. We’d been hit before and I was familiar with the devastation left behind by the killer funnel clouds. So far we’d been lucky, but if Lady Luck had ever lived in this house, she had moved out.

Kris came into the kitchen. “There’s a tornado warning out. I thought we were through with storms.”

“I know. I just caught it on the TV.” I dropped spoonfuls of cookie dough onto the baking sheet. “You keep a close eye on the set for further warnings.”

She paled. “Will it hit us?”

“I hope not.” I slid the cookies into the oven.

She stared at me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Why?” I kept an ear tuned to the weather report. Well, maybe both ears, because I didn’t hear what she said. She looked worried, but then both girls had worn that strained, anxious expression frequently around me. We were going to have a long talk, as soon as I could get my thoughts straight. It was important to know what you were talking about before you started talking, and right now my thoughts were still tied in a knot and I couldn’t find the right string to pull.

“All residents in…are urged to take cover immediately.”

I dropped the spoon. It hit against the glass bowl with a clang. “Where? I didn’t catch that.”

“Us!” Kris cried. “That’s us!”

The telephone rang and I snatched up the receiver. My next-door neighbor Ron was on the phone. “Kate? I don’t want to alarm you, but I think you and the girls should come over here. Sally and I are going to the basement.”

“We’ll be right there.” I slammed the receiver down and yelled for Kelli. “Come on! We’re going next door.”

Kelli ran into the kitchen, clutching Sailor. I shoved both girls out the door. “Run.” The stove. I whirled and shut off the
oven, opened the door and jerked out the pan of half-baked cookies.

The clouds had turned a dirty yellow color. I stood transfixed, watching them boil overhead. A sudden gust of wind whirled debris past me. Trees bent low. I froze, unable to move.