Mother Of Prevention. Lori Copeland
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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.