Magnolia Storms Read online

  “I’m about to leave, but is my sister healing?” She’d stay long enough to get his report and then go, fully accepting her sister’s assessment of her lack of bravery.

  “Still improving in small increments. I’m hopeful.”

  Hopeful? A lump rose in Maggie’s throat. She didn’t see much potential in hopeful. She’d been down that dead-end road before.

  FATIGUE TUGGED ON MAGGIE’S eyelids as she exited the car the next morning. “Do you need help, Aunt Ruth?”

  “Go on. I’m powdering my nose. I’ll be along in a minute.”

  Maggie shut the door and stepped up the curb and onto the sidewalk leading to the church. At least they had a great parking place. She squinted in the glare of the light bouncing off the gray concrete. She returned to the Acura and reached in for her sunglasses. Could she wear these in church, too? Stupid puffy eyes. After the intense scene with Josh, she’d spent all night punching her pillow instead of sleeping. Reliving the moment a few times too many, in between the tears that had drenched her sheets.

  The intoxicating kiss the night before also left little doubt in Maggie’s mind that Josh was partially right. She was missing something in her life. Maybe a lot. She’d grown used to being alone...untouched. But despite having involved herself in ministries and thrown herself into work, Josh’s insistence that she wasn’t really living—that she was meant for more—rang with a chord of truth.

  Being around him now renewed the connection they’d always shared. The way they’d helped each other out the last few days reminded her of all she’d lost, all she’d never found again. She was missing her partner in life. Josh had been her other half until Katrina. Maybe her whole. What he knew, and what she’d ignored, was that she’d closed off her heart—barricaded it to real emotions, to love.

  And especially to Josh. Had she blocked out others, too?

  “Miss Maggie!” J.D. barreled toward her, his loafers slapping the pavement.

  “Wait!” Josh gave frantic chase and swept the boy up in his arms as a minivan slowed behind them. “You know you’re supposed to stay by me and hold my hand near the street, son.”

  “Yes, sir.” His chubby fingers held Josh’s cheeks, and he pressed his forehead on Josh’s. “But I want to sit with Miss Maggie.”

  She couldn’t imagine a more adorable picture. Warmth spread through her, drawing out a tenderness she’d never imagined she’d have for any child other than Dahlia. How quickly she’d developed an affection for J.D. “He can sit with me.”

  Aunt Ruth and Dahlia joined them on the sidewalk, shielding their eyes with their hands in unison. So much glare today, and not a cloud visible. So far.

  “We can all sit together.” Josh cut his gaze Maggie’s way, as if waiting for approval. “You don’t want me to sit by myself, now, do you?”

  They were friends. She could do this. “Sure.” The single word squeezed between her lips.

  “Let’s go, or I’ll be blind as a bat out in this brilliance.” Aunt Ruth took an unsteady step forward, and Maggie clasped her elbow.

  “Need my sunglasses?” Maybe no one would notice the puffy eyes. She often cried in church anyway. Something about the emotions that a worship service churned up, especially since Mama had passed away. A fight between joy and pain, it seemed.

  “Lead the way, darling. Those big glasses would make me look like a cicada shell.”

  “Okay.” Nice. Was that what she looked like in the shades? Inside the red brick building, Maggie lifted the sunglasses, paused, and blinked a few times to rid her vision of the dazzle from the sun. If she was having a hard time adjusting, she could only imagine what her aunt was going through.

  “Let’s sit near the back,” Josh whispered near her ear, “in case someone gets restless.” He nodded toward J.D. who was still in his arms.

  “Of course.” The warmth of his breath and a cinnamon aroma ignited a memory of the previous evening, but Maggie quickly tamped it down. They were in church, after all. She led Aunt Ruth to an empty pew four rows from the back of the auditorium and waited for her to take a seat. Dahlia walked off to sit with a friend, leaving J.D. and Josh sitting only inches from Maggie.

  J.D. quickly scrambled into her lap and caught his fingers in her hair, twirling a curl. “They don’t have children’s church because of Thanksgiving, but next time you could come with me. We get to have animal crackers and yellow juice there. This one doesn’t have snacks.” His lips poked out as they pressed together. “Oh. Sometimes they have real small red juice and white cookies for the big people, but not for kids. I tasted one time.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t sweet.”

  A laugh worked its way past the awkwardness of sitting beside Josh. Kids did have such an innocent view of life. She ruffled his hair and smiled. “I’d like to come with you sometime.”

  The hard look Josh gave her as his head spun her way caught her off guard.

  “What? I can’t go with him?”

  Josh’s forehead formed a firm crease where his brows met. “He’ll remember what you said, and if you don’t...” His jaw hardened. “Kids expect adults to follow through—to be there.”

  The broken expression on his face sent a tsunami of understanding and empathy over her. Poor Josh. He’d never gotten over his father leaving them. That loss had bled away his trust in people. A lot like she’d never gotten over her father’s death. They had more pain in common than she’d realized. Plus with J.D.’s mom gone...

  A tall bearded man greeted the crowd, and then a singer began a poignant melody. The worship song eliminated the need for her to think of a way to respond. The words and tune inched into the cold and fearful places of her soul, soothing away a bit of the worry over Cammie and the storm. J.D. snuggled closer, resting his head against her shoulder, his chest rising and falling against hers.

  The minister took the podium. A slide on the screen behind him read: Have you been disappointed in God?

  Air caught in Maggie’s lungs, and her ribs tightened against her midsection. What kind of lesson was this? It almost seemed blasphemous to say such a thing.

  He asked everyone to turn to John 11. After the rustle of pages quieted, he read the story of Lazarus’ death, stopping where Martha and Mary each approached with a lament.

  Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.

  It was as if Maggie had been turned inside out in that moment. Hadn’t she felt that very same way about her parents? Where had God been in the hurricane? Where had God been while cancer ravaged her mother?

  The minister went on with the story.

  Jesus was deeply moved and troubled.

  Jesus wept.

  Jesus could’ve kept Lazarus from dying. He could’ve healed his friend, even from afar. He’d done it before in the Scriptures. But He chose not to.

  His friends had been hurt. Disappointed in Jesus. Disappointed in God.

  Maggie swallowed at the thickness clogging her throat and forming a chokehold. Her anxious fingers made circles on J.D.’s back, and his breathing slowed. She looked down as his long lashes fluttered and then closed.

  Tears blurred her vision. Why did God answer some prayers and not others?

  God had answered their church’s prayers when her friend Jane’s daughter had been born premature. Not even two pounds at birth, the infant hadn’t been expected to live, but the beautiful child not only lived, she flourished. Her brain sharp, her body perfectly formed and healthy.

  Another woman from the church had a tumor disappear, never to return.

  Moisture dampened Maggie’s lashes.

  No miracles had happened for her family. Time and again she’d prayed. And the answer had always been a solid no.

  The Gulf stole her father. Cancer stole her mother. Life stole Josh. Now her sister...

  The preacher’s volume increased. “God isn’t caught off guard when disasters and tragedies assail us from all sides. He is not shocked.”

  Maggie’s attention turned back to the ser
mon.

  “Jesus himself quoted the Psalm, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ Isaiah says ‘He was a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.’ He understands pain and disappointment. He understands having His best friends abandon Him when He needed them most.”

  A single tear rolled down Maggie’s cheek, and she swiped it with her free hand before it could land on J.D.

  “The eyes of the flesh can’t see God’s plan, but know this”—the pastor seemed to look right at her—“God loves you. He has a purpose for you.”

  Hadn’t her soul whispered that this was true? God loved her.

  But what was His plan, and why couldn’t she feel loved?

  “It takes very little faith to trust when all goes right in our lives. How much more faith does it take to trust and love Him back when life doesn’t go like we want it to go? Being a Christian doesn’t disqualify us from heartache. Isaiah 43:2 says, ‘When you pass through the waters, I will be with you,’ Being a Christian means we have a Comforter and a Savior who walks through our floods alongside us.”

  Had God been with her through the flood of pain and grief? Maggie rummaged around her past for an answer.

  J.D.’s head popped up, and he stared at her as if orienting himself. “I gotta go potty,” he whispered loudly.

  Josh’s elbow nudged her. “I’ll take him.”

  “I want Maggie to take me.” Louder whispering came from J.D as he slipped to the floor.

  “God has a purpose for your pain. Your pain can become your platform. Trust Him.” The minister’s voice slipped back into Maggie’s consciousness. “Death is only a change of address. Eternal life starts now. It starts when you begin a new life in Christ.”

  A platform of pain? Eternal life now? She stood beside J.D. “I got him.” She’d done the bathroom chaperoning a few times now and was getting accustomed to the task.

  “What is it that’s dead in your life? What is it that’s past hope?” The preacher was hitting a little too close to home anyway. Maybe Cammie was right calling her a coward, in more ways than one.

  J.D.’s small hand took hers, and they slipped out the back of the auditorium.

  THE SERMON’S WORDS permeated Josh’s being, flooding him with gratitude for all that the Lord had blessed him with. God had stood by him more times than he could count, starting way back when his father left. God had provided Mr. Marovich. When the appointment to Kings Point came through, Josh had felt God’s leading. So many days at work, in the beauty he encountered in creation, he saw God’s hand. Piloting on rough seas, God kept him safe. In the hard nights since the divorce, the Spirit of the Lord had been a comfort. Verses and worship songs had lifted his face to the Giver of Life during the loneliness. And precious J.D. had been the ultimate gift, aside from Christ’s sacrifice.

  Josh’s gut twisted. He hated that Maggie had walked out before the message was over. She needed to hear these words more than he did. Did she even go to church anymore? He wasn’t sure because she exuded such despair. The minister ended, and a worship song began. Maggie still hadn’t returned. He hoped they were okay out there, but he would resist the urge to check on them.

  Finally, the benediction came, and Josh led Ruth out to the foyer, her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow.

  “Wasn’t that lovely.” The elderly woman squeezed his arm. “The perfect message at the perfect time, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He tried to keep his tone positive.

  “She heard enough to get her thinking. Don’t you worry. The good Lord’s working on that girl.”

  The women in this family seemed to read his thoughts fairly often. “Hope you’re right.”

  “Trust me. I’m right more than I’m not, didn’t you know?” A cackle followed her self-assessment.

  “I should by now.” Winking at her, Josh smiled. Trusting came with work when it involved people.

  “Daddy!” A push against the back of Josh’s legs turned his head.

  Maggie and J.D. had slipped up behind him. “There you are, son. I thought you fell in, you’ve been gone so long.”

  Giggles tumbled from J.D. “Gross. I didn’t fall in the toilet. We looked out the window at some birds.”

  “Are you sure? Let me see if you’re wet.” He ran his fingers around J.D.’s midsection, earning more laughter.

  “Stop tickling me, Daddy.”

  “Sure is bright out there still.” Maggie was suddenly the focus of his attention, her brown eyes staring at him and J.D. “I need to scoot if I’m going to make the afternoon visit.”

  He hadn’t noticed the dark circles under her eyes before church. Obviously she hadn’t slept much. Neither had he after being blasted with that kiss. Knowing she was right next door had kept him tossing and turning under his ceiling fan all night.

  “How about I take everyone home and use the leftover shrimp to make etouffee while you go visit. When you get back, I’ll have some saved, and maybe we could all ride out to the harbor or the beach for a walk.”

  “The beach? The harbor? Really, Josh?” The fierce look she harpooned him with could’ve scared off a great white shark. “That’s the last place I want to be with a storm in the Gulf and all the...memories.”

  “We won’t be getting in the water. I know there could be a rip current.” He softened his tone. “I thought Dahlia and J.D. would enjoy getting outdoors, stretching their legs awhile. You and Ruth, too. A little of God’s creation and some vitamin D?”

  “You can take them home for lunch. I have vitamin supplements, and we can walk in the neighborhood.” Maggie bent down to press a kiss on J.D.’s head. “See ya later, pumpkin.”

  “See you, Miss Maggie.”

  “Bye, Aunt Ruth.” Maggie took a step away, then paused and turned back. “I’ll let Dahlia know who to ride with. Does J.D feel warm to you?” She blinked a few times and shrugged. “Not that I know anything about kids. I’m being ridiculous.”

  Josh pressed his palm to J.D.’s forehead. “I don’t feel fever if that’s what you’re asking. And if not the beach, maybe a nature hike near the bayou—”

  “Not today. I need...I need some space.” In an instant, her back was to him and she marched away.

  Chapter 17

  MAGGIE PUSHED HER SUNGLASSES over her eyes and took another cautious step in the sand. Her sister always seemed to get her way lately. She couldn’t believe she was standing on the beach when there was a hurricane out there somewhere past the blue horizon where water and sky met. Already a headache wrenched around her forehead. But she wasn’t doing this for Josh. Cammie had insisted she go along with his insane idea, saying Dahlia didn’t need to be taught to fear the Mississippi Sound. Maggie’s teeth caught her lip. That wasn’t what she was trying to teach Dahlia. Or anyone for that matter. She wanted people to be careful. Prepared. Educated on the risks.

  The images of this beach inundated with the storm surge during Katrina engulfed her, stealing her breath. The mounds of trees, boards, and wreckage scarring the land. The topography of the terrain made it vulnerable to mass flooding, laying waste to homes, businesses, and government offices all the way from the shoreline to Interstate 10. Whatever had been left intact had needed to be gutted due to the mold that set in before owners could even get to their property. No one who’d not seen the aftermath of the debris field could imagine the ravaged landscape here years earlier.

  A shiver scampered across Maggie’s shoulders. She wanted to believe she could move past all those memories, but so far, it hadn’t happened.

  “Take your shoes off and let the sand get between your toes, child,” Aunt Ruth called from her perch in the lawn chair Josh had set up for her. “It’s like riding a horse. You get right back on.”

  “I don’t ride horses.” The Keds on Maggie’s feet had pretty much filled with sand. She may as well go barefoot. She slipped off the sneakers and dropped them to the ground. The beach had warmed, at least, from the intense sunlight.

  “It’s like ri
ding a bike then. You like bike riding.”

  “Okay.” She did love the feel of the breeze ruffling her hair, a lot like when she went cycling at home on the trails near Jackson. She should’ve brought a ponytail holder, though. Her curls would be tangled into a rat’s nest by the time she left.

  About twenty feet away, Josh crouched over something on the ground and seemed to be explaining whatever it was to Dahlia and J.D. The light reflected off the waves behind the three, sparkling and shimmering. The rays glistened on Josh’s blond hair, too. A detail she didn’t want to dwell on. What was he showing them anyway?

  J.D. waved wildly. “Come see, Miss Maggie. It’s a mermaid’s purse.”

  A memory rushed into her mind—her father squatting down, showing her, Cammie, and Josh the same sort of black, square shell with spikes on four sides. Daddy’s quirky smile as he teased her and Cammie about getting them a new handbag for school. Squealing, Cammie had recoiled and pretended to gag at the thought of a stingray egg sack being any part of an ensemble.

  But she and Josh had fought over the chance to hold the biological wonder. Even pushing each other a few times until her father had given a stern command to halt. An unexpected sigh passed through Maggie’s teeth. If not for the storm, her plan had been to study marine biology. The hurricane had left nothing in her life untouched, including her career choice.

  “Come on, Aunt Maggie. Quit standing there like a knot on a log.” Dahlia’s chin jutted out, and she rolled her eyes.

  Again, her niece’s expression was like looking in a mirror. How scary. “Coming.” Maggie shuffled toward them.

  What would it be like to have children of her own? An enormous responsibility, one that was causing her a good bit of worry right now with her sister’s situation. She prayed Cammie healed quickly. Her sister had taken to motherhood from the first day like a pro. None of those new-mommy jitters for Camelia Marovich.

  Maggie kneeled on the sand next to J.D., doubting she’d have the same maternal gift as her sister. But it wasn’t like kids were on the horizon anyway.