Beyond The Storm Part 16

The silly conversation continued as they worked. When they'd finished their patterns, Selma showed everyone how to select the colors to best highlight the design. They all sorted through her remnant basket and looked for ideas. Justin got the shirt that he'd worn the night Jen had the baby and cut a big chunk out of the center of the back.

Abigail stared at the gaping hole and laughed.

"What?"

"Well, you can't wear that again," she chided.

"Why not?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"Next time, you might take a small piece off the tail, or something," she advised.

Justin rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah. Like there's gonna be a next time."

"I don't know, my man," Bob Ray said. "This is kind of fun."

Abigail was amazed at how much everyone was enjoying the project. The hours flew by and when bedtime rolled around, even though everybody was exhausted from a long, emotional day, they were all reluctant to stop and head off to bed.

Early Tuesday morning, before they each set off to lend the community a helping hand, Abigail spread out her storm sc.r.a.ps and mulled them over.

Justin sat next to her, watching and offering his thoughts. "Since Danny was in the military, that piece of the flag would be good in his square, huh?" he asked.

"What's the rule on dealing with a flag after it's been ruined? I mean, don't you have to dispose of it in some special way?" Abigail wondered as she walked her fingers over raised threads of the stars.

"I think it would be fine to make an exception with this small piece. Danny loved his country and this would symbolize that."

"Mm. I think that's really nice."

Later, Abigail realized that if a time-lapse camera had been set up over the table, it would have told the tale of the numerous comings and goings of Danny's loved ones. Word of the quilt had spread, and people came by with stories and bits of fabric. Over iced tea and cookies, they would share their thoughts and memories as they selected fabrics from Selma's yardage to go with their offerings.

When Kaylee stopped by, she spotted the shreds from the bodice of her wedding dress. "Abigail told me she found this over by the cleaners." She fingered the lavishly beaded crewel work with a soft smile. "The plastic must have kept this part clean." From her purse she pulled several pieces she'd found in a drawer at the new house. "The black satin was leftover from Chaz's c.u.mmerbund and I also brought some of the wool that the tailor trimmed from his cuffs." Making herself at home, Kaylee picked up a pair of scissors and went to work cutting and pinning the middle of her square.

Kaylee's ideas inspired Elsa, and she began to work with the sc.r.a.p that Selma had torn from the bottom of her prom dress the night of the storm. "This piece is a little bit stained with mud, but I like that," Elsa mused. "It tells a story. Sometimes beautiful things get ugly, before they get beautiful again."

Brows raised, Guadalupe and Kaylee stared at the child before they exchanged glances that spoke of how impressed they were with the depth of her thought process.

"Beautiful, Elsa," Selma murmured and kissed the girl's temple.

Tuesday evening, after another grueling day working the neighborhoods and searching for fewer and fewer survivors, everyone gathered after dinner to work on the quilt. As they pinned and basted their pieces together, they talked. There was a little bit of good news to celebrate, families reunited, people found, some rescued, help arriving in droves from out of state. But mostly, it was bad. Death and destruction and broken hearts everywhere.

The conversation twisted and turned and always seemed to flow back to Danny. Elbows resting on the table, Abigail cupped her chin in her hand and listened to Justin pour his grief out to Selma as they bent over his square, easing the material into the proper shape. "I feel guilty because I feel sorry for me. It's weird but I'm almost mad at Danny for getting under a trailer in the middle of a tornado. Talk about stupid."

"I think your feelings are pretty normal, honey. But I also see something else going on here," Selma said as she guided his hand. She was teaching him to baste.

"Tell me. Please." Justin tossed his square down and, leaning back in his chair, looked to Selma for answers.

"Well, I know you and Danny were very close and he was a great mentor for you. But, now that he's gone, I think maybe the Lord would appreciate your full attention. Sometimes, in the midst of the most serious trouble, we can't seem to reach the ones we usually depend on and I think it's because G.o.d wants us to talk to, and depend on, Him. Another of my favorite Corrie ten Boom quotes is 'You may never know that Jesus is all you need, until Jesus is all you have.'"

Justin slowly nodded and his eyes grew gla.s.sy with thought. "Um-hm."

"You know, sometimes the Lord will use the circ.u.mstances to help you lean on Him. Why do you suppose Danny was so close to the Lord? Maybe it was because he had no siblings or family to turn to for most of his childhood, so he had to turn to the Lord. And, the better he knew Him, the more he wanted to know Him. Interesting, don't you think?"

Wednesday morning, Isuzu brought over some swatches to contribute to the quilt; pieces of the kids' skating costumes, some red and gold fabric from the Sakura Garden's window dressings, among other bits and pieces that symbolized her family's connection to Danny. "Tyler want this in quilt," Isuzu said and held up a bit of ribbon from a medal the kids had won in a recent skating compet.i.tion. "Because he say Danny was champion youth group leader. Tyler say n.o.body tell a Bible story the way Danny bring it to life."

As she spoke, she began to blink rapidly and her lips quivered. Losing battle with sorrow, Isuzu buried her head in her hands and cried. "This morning, they find Nick's body. Brooke say, Auntie Zuzu, I am glad that Danny go with Nick up to heaven . . . together. She feeling very much depressed and crying hard about Nick. She send this ribbon from corsage Nick give her. She want it in her square."

Abigail's heart squeezed as she rubbed Isuzu's back with one hand and fingered the satiny smooth strip of pink with the other. Again, she was impressed by the love Danny inspired. If it had been her, what kind of legacy would she have left? Shame kindled her cheeks. It would be nothing compared to Danny's. Her relationships tended to be superficial because she preferred it that way. That, she had told herself more than once, was all she had time for. She'd been too busy building her career to care about the people in her life enough to even ask after them when they were suffering. That was going to change. Starting now. "How are your brother and sister-in-law doing?"

Isuzu sniffed and dabbed at her eyes. "We all move into nice rental house. Share for now." As she described the house, Isuzu finished cutting out her pattern and wrote her name on the back of each square before she began to sort her fabrics. "This sound strange, but my sister-in-law, Mieko, is good. Very, very good. No restaurant, no skating, no school. She stay at hospital today, like big mother chicken, with wings spread over chicks. She tell me she happy for no more pressure. Perfect excuse. No Olympics because kids are broken. She say to me, 'Zuzu! For first time, I feel like kids are my kids and not belong to public. I never am so happy.'" Isuzu pinned a piece of her pattern to a bit of fabric and began to trim the edges. "I think this very good. I think Jesus happy that Mieko get her babies back. Haruo still in shock over restaurant, but like to cook at home, too. They will make new restaurant."

"They are going to rebuild? That's really brave."

"New restaurant will be nice. Maybe better. So. Will you make new salon for Zuzu?" She was staring so hard at Abigail that Abigail had to laugh.

"I'm thinking it over . . . I don't know. My mother wants me to move out to California. And Zuzu, it's safe there. They don't get tornados."

"True. Get giant earthquake. Knock you house over flat."

Abigail pondered that for a second. "Yeah. I guess so. On the other hand, I do have a job offer there . . . but, you know Zuzu, the more I think about what I used to believe was important- beauty and beautiful people-I just don't crave it anymore. It all just seems so silly now. On the other hand, I don't have anything here, really . . ."

Isuzu stared at her. "I am chopped liver? You have big business here. Cut hair now in Selma kitchen until you build new shop. Okay. Good. I will rent a s.p.a.ce from Selma for now and go back to work. Soon, huh?"

"But-"

"Shh. I think you stay here. In Rawston," she whispered. "Marry Handsome-guy and you fight all day on phone." Isuzu's face scrunched and she laughed herself half silly.

Abigail groaned. Arguing with Isuzu was futile, so she changed the subject. "Zuzu, I was just thinking about something nice you and I might do for Brooke."

Isuzu stopped laughing and looked up from the fabric she held in surprise.

Abigail tossed her scissors into her sewing basket. "It sounds like she's going to be in bed for a while and I was thinking. Let's go to the beauty supply up in Southshire and get some nice lotion and facial stuff, and we'll make her feel pretty. What do you say?"

Smile wide, Isuzu got to her feet and grabbed her purse. "I say, let's go."

That evening after dinner, while Selma set up her sewing machine on one side of the kitchen, Abigail set up a swivel chair and her new hair supplies on the other, near the sink. There was a knock at the kitchen door and Isuzu came in with a leather satchel and a TV tray. "You tell them yet?" she whispered.

Finger to her lips, Abigail shook her head as she helped Isuzu unload and set up. That afternoon, they'd gone a little overboard at the beauty supply. Brooke had been so grateful for her pampering that they'd decided to do it for everyone. Abigail came home loaded down with specialty hair products for everyone in the household, and Isuzu had loaded up on nail supplies. They were both as giddy as children listening for Santa's sleigh bells on Christmas Eve.

When they were ready, Abigail used a spoon to tap on the bottom of a saucepan.

"Excuse me!" she called over the sewing hubbub at the table, "May we have your attention please? The Doo Drop-In and Zu-Zu Nails are open again for business!"

"We here to make you beautiful for wedding," Isuzu explained.

Heather and Elsa stared at each other for a second before they leapt to their feet and squealed, "Yes!" Chairs a-sc.r.a.ping, they charged at Abigail and Isuzu with open arms. After Abigail managed to emerge from their barrage of kisses and hugs, she handed them each a hairstyles magazine. "Why don't you girls pick a doo, and I'll start with Robbie."

Abigail brainstormed with Heather while she worked on the toddler's hair and Elsa discussed hair styles and nail colors with Isuzu and her mom.

The lopsided lengths of her son's thick curls had Heather wincing. "I've been doing it myself, because it's all I can afford," she said, embarra.s.sed. "I used to go to my mom's salon at the country club when I was in high school. Started dying my hair when I was in the fifth grade. Isn't that ridiculous?" Her dismay was audible as she exhaled. "I haven't had a good haircut since I got pregnant."

"That's the part I think is ridiculous," Abigail teased as she buzzed up the back of Robbie's head with a new pair of clippers. The child sat stock still, his eyes wide, his lips curved into a slight smile.

"Ticky," he said and laughed.

"I don't suppose you could do this one on me?" Heather held the glossy spread open so that Abigail could see and pointed out a trendy hairstyle in the magazine.

"Sure. You'd look great in that."

Heather squealed and clasped her hands together and, once again, Abigail found her heart growing softer. When Robbie was done, she handed him off to Bob Ray and recommended a shower, then turned her attention on mama.

"Time for some pampering, huh?" Abigail studied the picture and discussed the length of the various layers and the wispy bangs. "You want some color?"

Heather was jittering with excitement. "You could do that?"

"Highlights? Like this?" Abigail asked. She'd have thought the girl just won the lottery, Heather was so excited. Over the next hour, Abigail cut and colored and shampooed and blow dried and flat ironed. Before Heather was allowed to look in the mirror, Elsa put some mascara and lip gloss on her and Isuzu gave her a manicure. When they finally handed her the mirror, Heather burst into tears of joy. Bob Ray gave her a wolf whistle and insisted on dancing her around the kitchen. "Is my wife gorgeous, or what?"

They all agreed. She was. The haircut had completely transformed her, and she looked like a young girl again, rather than an exhausted mom. With the exception of Selma and Guadalupe, Abigail cut and styled everyone's hair until it was Justin's turn.

He eyed her warily as she pulled him from his seat at the table and led him to the sink. "What are you planning to do to me?"

She took the opportunity to freely study his handsome face. "I'm just going to give you a good cut. C'mon. I'll wash your hair. It's easier to cut when it's wet." Somewhat dubious, he followed her to the sink, where she stood, tucking a towel around his neck. They were standing face-to-face and he grinned at her, eyes twinkling. Her stomach tingled. Oh, my. This was better than dancing. To hide her suddenly nervous hands, she turned the water on and waited for it to warm, testing it with her fingers.

"Head in the sink," she ordered, and clearing her throat, reached for the spray nozzle. His hair was thick and soft and she first soaked it, and then filled her hands with her favorite shampoo.

"Suddenly I get why the girls spend the big bucks getting their hair done. I love this!" Justin shouted from the depths of the sink to Bob Ray as Abigail scrubbed his scalp, lightly running her nails through his hair as she ma.s.saged.

"Oh, yeah." Bob Ray ran a hand through his new haircut. "I'm a believer."

"I'll give her about a year to knock this off," Justin called back to Bob Ray.

Abigail laughed as she rinsed the soap from his head. Though she didn't really need to, she lathered him and rinsed once more, then she applied a good conditioner before the final rinse. While he was still bent over she wrapped his head in a towel and rubbed it half dry.

"Take a seat," she directed and, shaking out her cape, fastened it around his neck. Using a longer guard on the clippers, she trimmed up the back and sides, taking her time, enjoying the perfect excuse to touch his head and allow her hands to linger on his neck and shoulders. When she was satisfied with the results she took scissors and comb to the top, thinning and tr.i.m.m.i.n.g and shaping until he looked ready for a photo shoot. Man, she thought as she lightly shaved the line at his neck and sideburns, he was handsome. Crazy handsome on the outside, but even better on the inside. There was a goodness about him. Like Danny.

When she was done, she blew the hairs off his face and he grinned and asked, "Am I good?"

She could feel her goofy smile light her eyes and tingle her toes. "Yeah." She tipped his chin up and studied his face for a long moment and considered how it reflected the sweetness of his heart. "You're good."

19.

Bright and early Sat.u.r.day morning, Heather and Bob Ray fixed a hearty breakfast for the entire household. The savory smells of onion and garlic frying in b.u.t.ter, potatoes browning, bacon sizzling, and coffee perking summoned sleepyheads from their beds and drew them to the kitchen table for both food and family. While they all ate, the chatter was festive as the talk of Chaz and Kaylee's wedding that evening buoyed their spirits. Everyone was eager to put the storm and its atrocities out of their minds for a little while and get out of the house and celebrate life.

"Hey, you know what?" Abigail cradled her coffee mug between her hands. "It just occurred to me that I don't have anything to wear to a wedding." Everyone glanced around as that realization dawned for them all.

"I don't think anyone is going to care if we wear jeans," Justin said with a shrug, "you know, all things considered."

"Yes, but it would certainly be nice to have one good Sunday-go-to-meetin' outfit for times like this, don't you think?" Selma said as she pinned a row of completed quilt squares together. "Why don't you kids take the Olds and run up to the mall in Southshire? I have some money in the cookie jar that the kids sent me for my last few birthdays, but to be honest, I just haven't needed anything and so I've been saving it for a rainy day. I think a tornado counts. Take it and go shopping."

"Oh, no," they all demurred, but the longing expressions on their faces claimed that they were oh-so-tempted.

Selma stood and moved to her cookie jar. Without ceremony, she brought it to the table and dropped it in the center with a thud. "Haven't you ninnies learned anything from the storm? Seize the day, kids! Life is short! Get out there and live it. For me?"

Grins and eyes huge, Guadalupe and Elsa, Bob Ray and Heather, Justin and Abigail all exchanged excited glances. "We'll pay you back," Bob Ray promised.

"Okay, it's a deal," Selma agreed. "I've got a bunch of storm junk in the backyard that needs hauling off-" Before she'd finished her thought, chairs rumbled across the wood floor as everyone leapt to their feet to kiss Selma's face, and then rush pell-mell out the door. "Leave Robbie here," Selma called after them, and then turned her attention to the child who was still seated, forgotten, in his high chair. "They're not gonna get too far without the jar, huh kid? So. It's just you and me and the VeggieTales, how about that?"

"Meggie Tay!" Robbie shouted. "Bob!"

"Bob the Tomato is my favorite, too."

Heather popped back into the kitchen, her face flushed and her eyes bright with excitement. "Sorry, Selma. I got a little over anxious to be on my way. Be good, Robbie." Heather kissed her son and Selma waved the girl off. Heather bolted, squealing like a kid on her way to the candy store, the cookie jar in her arms.

That afternoon, after a full morning spent buying wedding togs, the doorbell rang and Rawhide scrambled to loudly announce Kaylee's arrival. She'd brought her brand-new veil and tiara and Heather and Elsa watched as Abigail deftly wove her hair and headpiece into a work of art that had her looking every inch the princess bride. When she'd gone, Abigail turned her attentions on everyone else in the household and shampooed and conditioned and gelled and sprayed and flat-ironed and blow-dried until they were all spit-shined and ready for a night out.

"You have a servant's heart, sweetheart," Selma murmured, admiring Abigail's handy work around the room. Abigail beamed under the praise. For the first time ever, Abigail was more satisfied with the status of her heart than the nature of her art. It had been fun, washing their heads and listening to their sighs of contentment and basking in their satisfied smiles.

It took two trips with Justin driving the Olds, but they all made it to the church on time. Because of some unexpected repair work that the Midwestern General Electric Company was doing on a substation just outside Rawston, the Prairie Central Bible Church lost power about two hours before the wedding. Undaunted by this minor inconvenience, Kaylee and Chaz relied on dozens of emergency candles to light the sanctuary for their sunset ceremony. The sparkling beauty took Abigail's breath away as she and Justin stepped inside the vestibule. A young usher lent Abigail his arm and led them both to their seats behind Selma, who had Bob Ray and Heather on one side and Guadalupe and Elsa on the other.

Bemused, Abigail glanced at Justin's profile as she took her seat. A week ago she'd known she was attending Kaylee's wedding, but she'd never have guessed it would be in the company of this particular group. And, at the moment, she couldn't imagine attending with anyone else. Odd as it seemed, they were a little family now.

The delicate strains of a stringed quartet playing Pachelbel's "Canon in D" filled the air as Kaylee's bridesmaids came down the aisle before her, carrying candles-dressed in beribboned lace paper doilies to protect their hands from the wax-instead of flowers. Then the stringed music faded and the pianist played the prelude to the wedding march and they all stood as Kaylee walked down the aisle on her father's arm. She was positively glowing, and the dress-her father brought it from Seattle-had belonged to her mother but looked as if it had been made for Kaylee. The cast on her broken arm had been painted and then beaded and sequined to match the glove on her good arm. Instead of a bouquet of flowers, she, too, carried a candle, as did Chaz, his brother, Davon, and the two groomsmen. Up at the altar, a unity candle waited for her and Chaz to light as a symbol of their marriage bond.

Everywhere, candlelight flickered. On window ledges, table tops, railings, the piano and organ tops. It was absolutely breathtaking. The shadows muted out any repair work that needed to be done because of the tornado and gave the ceremony a feeling of splendor. Through the arch that had held the stained-gla.s.s window, the last vestiges of the setting sunlight only added to the ethereal mood.

Sniffles began to ripple across the a.s.semblage as Kaylee's father tenderly kissed and handed his only daughter off to her groom. Chaz's flickering and shadowed expression was one of adoration for his bride as he drew her to his side. Oh, how handsome and tall he stood in the tux that had been stored in the new house. Love seemed to spark and shimmer between them as warm and bright as the candles they carried. Once Mr. Johnson had taken his seat next to Kaylee's mom, the minister-whom the wedding program listed as Pastor Caldecott- welcomed the guests.

"Welcome, beloved. I know I speak for both Kaylee and Chaz in extending our grat.i.tude to you for joining us to bear witness to the exchange of their wedding vows. On the heels of a devastating and tragic storm, it is a privilege and an honor to be able to unite these two young people in holy matrimony."

Pulse pounding, breath caught in her throat, Abigail could almost feel the collective smile of the congregation, for it was a live thing, blooming and spreading and generating warmth. Justin took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. That such joy could flow on the heels of such horrific chaos amazed Abigail. And yet, as she watched and waited, her heart was suddenly so full. Eyes creasing at the corners, Justin glanced down at her and she knew by his tender smile that he felt it, too.

"This service is a blessing to our beleaguered community in so many ways. It is a new beginning. A fresh start. A symbol of hope. And a symbol of G.o.d's unending grace. I know there are a number of you out there with us tonight who might be questioning how a supposed G.o.d of love could allow such tragedy to come into our lives. And believe me when I tell you, you are not alone."

Abigail felt her mouth drop open, and in her peripheral vision, she could feel the glances and knowing smiles of those in her household darting in her direction. Leaning forward, she wriggled around in her seat and stared hard at the pastor, as if by doing so, she could not only hear better but also absorb the meaning behind his words.

"This is a question of the ages, is it not? And there are no simple answers. However, I think the words of beloved nineteenth-century pastor and writer J. C. Ryle sum it up best in a message that is appropriate, considering what Chaz and Kaylee have so recently lived through. It is also relevant to the storms that every marriage will encounter at one time or another over the years."

The pastor cleared his throat, adjusted his gla.s.ses and began to read. "In his sermon ent.i.tled We Shall Thank G.o.d for Every Storm, Pastor Ryle says, 'If we are true Christians, we must not expect everything smooth in our journey to heaven. We must count it no strange thing, if we have to endure sicknesses, losses, bereavements, and disappointments, just like other people. Free pardon and full forgiveness, grace by the way and glory to the end-all this our Savior has promised to give. But He has never promised that we shall have no afflictions. He loves us too well to promise that.

'By affliction He teaches us many precious lessons, which without it we should never learn. By affliction He shows us our emptiness and weakness, draws us to the throne of grace, purifies our affections, weans us from the world and makes us long for heaven. In the resurrection morning we shall all say, "It is good for me that I was afflicted." We shall thank G.o.d for every storm.'"

Tears spilled down Abigail's cheeks, and of course, she had left the house without so much as a tissue tucked in her sleeve. Shouldn't she have known better? This was, after all, a wedding. Crying was on the agenda. She sniffed and swiped at her nose and eyes, the words of the sermon chipping away at the stone that had encased her heart since she was eleven years old. Was it good that she had been afflicted? Even though it had been terribly painful, she had to think that it was. She'd definitely changed. And she believed . . . knew it was for the better. Would she have learned so much about herself without the storm? Probably not.

In the past week, she'd spent more time considering her priorities and searching her soul than she had in all of the other thoughtful moments of her life combined. Looking back, if she were honest, she didn't exactly admire who she used to be and what she'd deemed important. Like a cold front sweeping in from the north, she could feel a storm brewing in her soul. More change was on the horizon. Would her metamorphosis continue to be this painful? This emotional? Eyes squeezed tight, she took a deep breath. She would be stronger because of it. A better person, by far, than the vain, rather vapid girl she'd been only a week ago. Feeling Justin jostling around at her side, she watched, bleary-eyed, as he reached under the pew in front of them, plucked several tissues from a box that had been stored near his feet for just such occasions, and handed them to her.