Flash Flood (11 page)

Alina couldn’t tell her friend the truth. The harsh reality of Alina’s and Anna’s lives lay embedded in a secret place no one could enter. Even God didn’t look at such darkness.

Thursday, 10:30 p.m
.

Alina crumpled her pillow and stared up at the ceiling. Another sleepless night. When would this end? Mid-June, when Ryan left Flash and returned to California? She worked with him all day, then thought about him all night. During the day, her stomach did funny little flips that left her physically ill, and at night she had heartburn. If love did this to a person, she was in line for a cruel death.

But she hadn’t gone through any of this nonsense in college. She’d been deliriously happy. Every moment with Ryan filled her with excitement and longing for the next and the next.
Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all
. She’d heard that line all of her life and never did believe it.

Finally Alina decided to brew a cup of decaf herbal tea in the hope of coaxing her body to sleep. Once she squeezed the tea bag and lifted the cup to her lips, it occurred to her that between cleaning her apartment and then Deidre’s visit, she hadn’t checked her e-mail yet. Seated at her desk with mouse in hand, she clicked on SEND AND RECEIVE. She blinked at the spam and hit the DELETE key. A message popped up from Ryan’s Neon account. Why would he e-mail her rather than pick up the phone or wait until the morning? She clicked on the message.

She reached to delete the message but stopped. A longing to hold on to whatever she could with Ryan kept her from sending the message into the trash can on her computer. Like keeping the photograph of them in their college days, holding on to a few treasured words seemed innocent enough. She clicked REPLY and stared at the screen … what to say … what not to say.

She reread the reply several times to make sure it didn’t sound in the least encouraging. Another thought ran through her mind, and she added a line.

Do not hesitate to point out my errors or behavior that you find incompatible with a sound working relationship. This is important to me
.

Cold as a fish
was the perfect cliché to describe her response. The distance between them had to widen, or she’d never make it for three months. She’d do anything to guard her defenses. Ryan must never discover the truth.

Tomorrow, she vowed—no, tomorrow
with
God’s help—she’d do a better job at behaving like a godly woman. Her e-mail response to Ryan paved the way for a new and improved Alina. Tonight she’d make a list of priorities in seeking new employment. She needed to send out tons of résumés, not just a few. Every name and address that called for her qualifications was a potential employer.

While online, she searched through the various postings from firms who were looking for qualified personnel. Unfortunately, until this very minute her mind had been too scattered to do anything but search out a few Web sites. When Alina realized her frazzled brain wasn’t retaining a thing about the job market, she powered down the computer and flipped on the TV. A program about people makeovers grabbed her attention. A very homely young woman and an equally unattractive man pled their cases, telling how physical changes in their bodies would make them happy. Granted, the two looked great after the weeks of intense physical changes. Friends and family cried, and so did Alina. But what about the rest of those who were miserable when life didn’t go their way? All the tummy tucks, nose jobs, liposuction, new clothes, hairdos, and expensive makeup in the world wouldn’t soothe the regrets scarring her heart. And if she elected to have all those things done to her body, who’d care?

What about emotional makeovers? Or better yet, spiritual makeovers? How about a makeover guaranteed to get an old love off your mind? Liposuction of the heart would do it.

Friday, 5:45 a.m
.

Alina awoke to the sound of rain pelting the roof. Storms had raged all night with ear-piercing thunder and flashes of lightning that lit up the sky in one jagged pattern after another. Sirens blared with the storm’s fury, no doubt en route to fires caused by the lightning. She always said a quick prayer for those who were affected tragically by electrical storms—the fear of which she’d never completely overcome. Alina snuggled under fresh, clean-smelling linens until the thunder faded to rumblings in the distance. The thought of nature pitching a curve when she wanted to enjoy birds singing their accolades to spring had just enough leverage to shove her into a foul mood.

Even if nature had accommodated her sleeping hours, rest still would have evaded her. Images from the past and worries about the future plagued her thoughts. Deidre’s visit and Ryan’s e-mail did little to soothe the turmoil inside her. Ryan had correctly assessed the situation between them a few days ago:
“Great weather. Goes with our amicable discussion.”

Pushing away the nightmares that had stalked her for over twenty-five years, she forced herself upright. The idea of staying at home and curling up with a good book sounded cozy. She loved her little home with its eclectic mixture of antiques and sleek modern designs, and little there hinted of job loss or Ryan Erikson, except the telltale photograph.
Dream on, Alina
. Flash Communications and her responsibilities called her from the warm, comfortable bed to the shower, to work. Self-pity time was over. Reality edged in like the gray dawn. In fact, she’d head in early and get a good start on the day’s work.

At least the storm had passed. She had a phobia about standing in the midst of running water during an electrical storm, and this morning she craved gallons of hot water to soothe her tired body. With the coffee set to brew, Alina tuned in the radio only to hear the weather forecaster predict more rain to come.

“Going to need your umbrellas today,” the forecaster said, with too much perkiness. “Winds will be gusty and out of the north. Rain mixed with thunderstorms will be with us today as well as through the weekend. By Sunday night, freezing temperatures will change the rain to snow.”

“You are making my day,” Alina said. “I want sunshine,” she said as she slipped in a CD to play, “and jazz.”

Yesterday’s mail caught her attention. She’d stacked it last night before her cleaning spurt without taking the time to open it. She spied a letter from Homeward Hills nestled among a heap of solicitations, as well as a final credit card bill. Hallelujah, she’d met her goal of paying it off. Now the card was officially in her drawer for emergency use only. Alina picked up the envelope from Anna’s home and slipped her fingers under the flap to open it. A personal letter spoke of the home’s outstanding credentials, complete with glowing testimonials from those who had families housed there, hers included. Near the bottom, an item jumped up with such intensity that she repeated it aloud.

“Due to our commitment of providing excellent care to all of our residents and meeting the rising costs of our high standards, we find it necessary to raise the rates at Homeward Hills 10 percent, effective May 1. We have not had a price increase in our services during the past four years, and we believe the modest amount will help ensure our quality performance for your loved ones.”

She moaned. “My life is a joke.” Determined not to give in to depression, Alina folded the letter and placed it back inside the envelope. Today she’d take on the role of Scarlett O’Hara and think about how she’d pay for Anna’s care another day. No point in wasting brain cells about a matter she couldn’t do a thing about.

In less than an hour, Alina emptied the pot of strong coffee, drank a bottle of water, gulped down a fistful of vitamins with orange juice, and ran for her car just as the rain turned into a downpour. Donuts sounded good—a sugar high to go along with all the caffeine. She ate too much of the grease and sugar variety, but some days donuts called her name, and she couldn’t say no.

With the rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers swiping at the rain falling faster than the little arms could whisk it away, Alina strained to see clearly. Whatever happened to healing rain? The assault reminded her of life’s problems: Everything wanted to cloud her vision of the future. With a sigh, she realized her thoughts did not honor God. The future belonged to Him, just as her doubts, her joys, her sorrows, and this incredible love for Ryan.

Once she arrived at Flash and sloshed through the water to the back door, she set her umbrella aside and removed her boots. James and Fred talked near the service room. Alina waved to them. “Good morning. This rain is really nasty—bone-chilling, too.”

“Along with life,” James said. As usual, he didn’t look a bit happy.

She thought to give him another lecture on his crumbling attitude, but the weary look on his face bridled her tongue. “What’s wrong?”

Fred cleared his throat.
Must be serious
. “James got some bad news about his little girl.”

“Jenna? Is she sick?”

James pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose. Had the man been crying? Immediately she regretted what she’d been thinking about him.

“Becky took her to the doctor yesterday. Jenna’s been complaining of headaches. The doctor ordered testing and X-rays. Looks like she has a brain tumor.”

“Oh, James, I’m so sorry. What’s the next step?”

“Well, Becky and I are takin’ her to the children’s hospital in Columbus next Tuesday. We’ll see what the doctor says then. I imagine it will need to be removed.”

“I told James we’d all be praying for them—a miracle is in order,” Fred said.

“Of course.” Alina’s thoughts scrambled for something she could say to help. “How is Becky holding up?”

“Better than me, I think. I don’t want to think of that tumor being a cancer.” He shook his head. “We should have taken her to the doctor the first time she complained. Maybe something could have been done.”

“How could you have known?” Alina asked. “Do you mind if I call Becky?”

“I’m sure she’d like to hear from you.” He turned to Fred. “Thanks for praying with me. Guess this is a real test to see if I believe in all you’ve said about God.” James made his way to the service room, where he would gather up the work orders for the day.

“And I thought I had troubles.” Fred watched James disappear. “Reminds me I’m pretty blessed when I learn about another situation far worse than mine. Makes me feel ashamed for wasting time worrying about things that don’t really matter.”

“I understand exactly what you mean,” Alina said. “James is devoted to Becky and those kids. He loves his family like no man I’ve ever seen. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he’s a good husband and father.”

“Coping with learning his child had a brain tumor would be a stretch for a man with seasoned faith; I’m hoping this thing doesn’t turn James against God.” He blew out a heavy sigh. “Jenna’s got to come through this, Alina. I’m going to call our pastor. James and Becky definitely need the hand of God through this.”

Alina’s gaze trailed to the service room. “Sure makes me feel selfish about all my whining. I’ll let the staff know about it, if that’s all right.”

Fred nodded.

Friday, 7:30 a.m
.

Ryan stepped out of his SUV rental into a puddle of water. A gust of wind snapped his umbrella inside out and sent a torrent of rain straight into him. The huge splash made him feel as though a bucket of cold water had been thrown into his face. If he’d had any doubts before now, he was definitely awake. He raced toward the building, soaking his shoes and much preferring a blizzard. Building snowmen, sledding, and having snowball fights were much more fun than avoiding water. His part of California didn’t have weather like this. The idea of facing this again and again—and he would if he accepted the promotion to Neon’s VP position in Columbus—took a heavy dose of consideration. He’d moved to the West Coast for milder weather and never missed Ohio’s winters. God would have to send a banner across the sky to convince him to move back to old home territory. With a heavy sigh, he realized if it didn’t stop raining, he’d be wading to his car after work.