An Alternate Way of Meeting Josh
Rain such as MJ had never experienced fell like a curtain over her windshield as she drove her mother’s van down Oklahoma Highway 51. The stress of driving in a deluge intensified her worry for her friend Kelsey. She was the only friend MJ had made since moving from Arizona a month ago to help her mother manage Peach Blossom Orchard.
MJ usually would have gone for a morning run with Kelsey, a woman who shared her regular route and she hoped would become a close friend. But Mom had needed her to make a delivery instead. She had gulped down toast and coffee in the sunroom that faced the highway while watching Kelsey head into a wall of fog, something else she hadn’t experienced living in the Arizona desert. Her friend still hadn’t returned when MJ had to quit playing sentinel to get on the road. The knot it put in her stomach still hadn’t loosened.
The fog had lifted, but rain had started as soon as she’d turned onto the highway from Peach Blossom Orchard’s mile-long driveway. That was the business her mother had bought two years earlier, soon after Dad died. MJ had been at Arizona State University earning her MBA. The farther she drove in this deluge, the harder the rain came down. The windshield wipers hadn’t kept up with the veil of water obstructing her view, tensing every muscle in MJ’s body.
Just when the rain let up enough for her to see the lane markings in the road, pea-sized hail rattled against the vehicle and brought tears to MJ’s eyes. It was enough to make a woman regret giving up a cushy job in a downtown Phoenix high rise to end up making an emergency delivery a half-hour away from her little community near Tahlequah, the home of the Cherokee Nation.
The last straw was the windshield steaming up and obliterating her vision.
“Please, God, don’t let me die!” Her prayer echoed throughout the van, though God hadn’t answered her prayer the last time she’d needed him.
She slowed the vehicle, rushed to roll down the window, and stuck her head out. Her lips pinched together as she winced at the hail pelting her face. With her back ramrod straight and her eyes squinting ahead, she spotted an overpass and maneuvered to stop under the shelter. Her hand shook when she reached to kill the engine. She dropped her head to the steering wheel to catch her breath and slow the heart that pounded against her ribs.
The sudden quiet released her muscles, an ease that seemed too good to be true. She rolled her head across her shoulders to loosen a neck spasm. Her hands tingled now that she’d relaxed their death grip on the steering wheel.
Switching the radio on, she heard the announcer advising the signs of a tornado and reviewing actions to take if caught in one. “Never seek shelter under an overpass.” His warning tightened her shoulders again.
“Great.”
Her voice wobbled; she looked for another place to seek shelter. Nothing but open fields. How could that be any safer than the shelter of an overpass? She bobbed her still dripping forehead on the steering wheel and tapped into her Christian upbringing for comfort, despite how God had abandoned her before.
“God, please tell me what to do. We don’t have this kind of weather in Arizona. Send someone to help me. I don’t want to die. My mom needs me.” The idea of leaving Mom alone released a torrent of tears.
Her mind flashed back to the silver sedan following Kelsey into the fog, a black pickup riding its bumper. She’d prayed that her friend stayed on the grass beside the highway rather than on the asphalt. Where was Kelsey now? “Please keep Kelsey safe too.”
She shook off the discomfort of not having seen her friend emerge from the fog before she had to leave Peach Blossom Orchard. And questioning if God was too busy to care.
While the radio announcer droned on about watching for fleeing wildlife, MJ realized her forehead stung. She looked at her reflection in the rearview mirror, then rubbed her fingertips across the red welts left by the hail.
A flock of birds flew in from behind her, landing in the rafters above. A deer trailed the birds, followed by a coyote, then a rabbit.
She squeezed her eyes shut. The coyote should have been chasing the rabbit instead of the other way around, meaning she was in big trouble. Her palms clutched at the anxiety churning in her stomach. She knew that prickle. It was the same as when, on her last day in Afghanistan, she’d gone to the market to hug her friend Baani goodbye. Nothing good ever came from the sting growing stronger every second.
If she’d paid attention to her discomfort that day in Afghanistan, she wouldn’t now be dealing with the impact of the explosion that had left her with recurring nightmares and flashbacks that flared when under stress. Like now.
As she did whenever she thought of that explosion, she cradled the scar across her abdomen while trying to focus on the present. “Breathe in.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Breathe out.” She blew out to the count of ten, then repeated the calming routine her therapist had taught her. Twice.
She turned to the window of the rear cargo-door and saw a piece of cardboard swirl through the overpass and out the other side. Seconds later, a blue pickup screeched to a stop behind her. A lightning bolt struck the ground. A thunder clap shook the windows. The air felt tingly, and her hair stood on end.
She rushed to the doors behind her to get a better view out the window. The sky had a green tinge, something she’d never seen in Arizona. Despite the closest railroad tracks being two miles to the left, she heard a train.
The guy from the pickup opened the back door, grabbed her arm, and pulled her out. “It’s a tornado.”
They struggled together to shut the door against the growing storm. He hauled her up the cement embankment, pushing her to the crevice between the embankment and the bridge’s supports. Her knees, head, and elbows hit the dirt. She clasped her hands over her head for protection. The man sheltered her body with his. His spicy citrus scent was the smell that always triggered the vision of flames as she lay on the ground in Afghanistan.
She clinched her eyes shut and prayed, “No, not now,” in a plea to quell the flashback.
When the ground shook, her screams became a struggle to get the man to release her so she could run. He tightened his grip. The train sound morphed into a jet engine roaring toward her. The familiar tune he hummed—“Somewhere Over the Rainbow”—barely registered as howling drowned out the man’s tenor. Boards and other debris whirled past and crashed off the sides of the road above her. Her ears popped. Glass shattered.
She screamed something, maybe apologizing to God for doubting him, begging for mercy, and promising to be a better daughter. She wasn’t sure. The guy on top of her sang louder, but her fear kept it from comforting her. The explosion in Afghanistan again fired through her memories, the man’s scent of spice and citrus attacked her senses.
Suddenly, there was no sound at all. Spooky quiet. Eerily still.
The six-foot man rolled off of her, sprawled on his back while staring at the rafters above them. “Holy moly.” He laughed and looked at her, revealing deep dimples in the reddish-brown stubble on his cheeks. She focused on the one crooked bottom tooth in his otherwise perfect smile. “We’re alive.” He hooted again.
She couldn’t speak, so she nodded and tried to laugh with him while the flames in her memory subsided.
He thrust a hand toward her. “I’m Josh.”
His hand was rough, as if he were a working man. “MJ.” Her voice was more of a squeak than her usually smooth alto, which often led people to suggest she narrate thriller audio books like the ones she loved.
“Let me guess, that stands for Mary Jane.” His chuckle came out as a forced attempt to recover from the trauma they’d just gone through.
“Marie Jessica. My dad always called me MJ. It stuck.”
“Seems to fit you.” He grasped her elbow and helped her to her feet, but her legs were too weak to hold her. When he wrapped his arms around her waist, she tried to ignore the tingle his touch gave her. He supported her while sliding with her down the embankment, then sat cross-legged in front of her on the asphalt, his striking blue eyes boring into hers. He seemed strangely familiar.
“You okay?” He skimmed her shoulder with a warm and comforting hand. Again, strangely familiar.
She swallowed hard and shrugged. Held her abdomen. Rocked back and forth. Told herself over and over that she wasn’t back in the Afghan marketplace. No way would she let out the tears that threatened to flow. She’d trained with the Army Rangers, for heaven’s sake. Tears weren’t allowed.
Josh looked behind them. “Oh.”
She followed his line of sight to see a two-by-four sticking out the back window of Mom’s delivery van. That was it. She collapsed against him and sobbed, his breath warm on her neck, his touch electrifying as he rubbed in a circular motion on her back.
That feeling was not okay. She still woke up most nights screaming Baani’s name, and with her mom’s condition getting worse by the day, this was no time for a romance. She pushed him away, no matter how gorgeous he was or how great his touch felt.
Gratitude exploded insider her. God had finally answered a prayer. Her prayer. The one for someone to come help her. Logic and reason evaporated like the morning fog had done.
Oh, fiddlesticks. As if a conveyor belt took her hands to his face, she gave up trying to stifle her attraction to him. She cupped his cheeks and brought him in for a smooch. He kissed her back, and that was all the encouragement she needed to throw her arms around his neck, suddenly desperate for a deep connection with this beautiful stranger God had sent to save her.
They laid on the pavement, each on their sides with hands wandering, his to her hips, hers to the muscles in his chest.
You hussy, her inner critic ridiculed. “Oh, God.” She pushed him away. “I don’t know what got into me.”
“I’m so sorry.” He scrambled away, avoiding her eyes. “I’ve heard extreme passion sometimes happens when people go through trauma together. Like surviving a tornado.”
That’s not what happened to MJ while she held Baani and some guy she’d never seen before or since pulled her from the rubble in Afghanistan. She had struggled against the man as he held her close until a medic arrived. The next thing she knew, she was at Walter Reed Hospital beginning a months-long recovery, wracked with guilt for causing her friend’s death.
“I’ve heard that, too,” she mumbled. “That must be it. Sorry.”
“It won’t happen again.”
“Right, we’ll never see each other again. Thanks for saving me.” She gestured toward the two-by-four in her back window. It had pierced the spot where she was standing when he pulled her from the vehicle.
“Can you walk now?” His hand grazed her shoulder, concern in his eyes.
She got up, realizing her phone was ringing in the console cup holder inside the van, but she couldn’t get her thoughts together enough to think of opening the door to answer it. He opened it for her and handed her the phone as it stopped ringing. The sound started up seconds later.
“Hello.” She turned away from the guy whose eyes still gave her an inappropriate tingle.
“MJ,” Mom said in a slight southern accent with a worried tone. “I wanted to warn you that they’re forecasting tornadoes.”
“I’m sitting in the van under an overpass.”
“Oh, they said not to do that.”
“I’ll move.”
“Okay, take care, sweetheart. Keep an eye out for funnel clouds.”
“Will do.”
“Oh! And the plumber is here. I told him to go ahead with the work.”
“Sounds good. Thanks for checking on me.”
Disconnecting, she dodged Josh’s gaze while rushing to the back of the van and pulling on the two-by-four that was angled down to the floor.
“I’ll help.” Josh stood an arm’s length from her, staring at the board as he yanked, drawing his eyebrows together as if thinking.
“If you hadn’t pulled me out of there…” She let go of the board and wrapped her arms around her middle to will away nausea.
“Yeah. Glad to help.” He focused his gaze on the board he was wrestling.
She helped him wiggle it until it came out. They placed it on the asphalt beside them. He slid a business card from his wallet. “I can fix your van.”
She reciprocated by handing him a card her mom had given her for the peach business, aware of birds flying away from the rafters as if nothing unusual had happened. Her entire body shook.
“Oh, that’s a couple miles outside of Tahlequah. Near where I live.” He stuffed the card into a pocket in his muscle-hugging shirt, then steadied her by holding her elbow while opening the van door, clearing away debris, and helping her sink to the metal floor to recover.
She clutched the nearest thing she could find for comfort: a duffel bag full of tools. What she wanted was another snuggle and kiss from Josh, but she forced that thought away. She couldn’t commit to a relationship, and that kiss happened because of their mutual trauma of surviving a tornado. Besides, his scent reminded her of Afghanistan. That was enough reason to stay away from him.
The rain, hail, and wind stopped as quickly as it had started, but MJ stayed still, willing her mind and body to start working again. Josh stood guard nearby until she sat up.
He stepped closer, and some kind of thought he must have had lit up his entire face. “Your eyes are honey-colored.” The dimples in his cheeks got deeper, his crooked smile between a graceful nose and a square jaw sending another wave of desire through her.
Can’t do it. “Yeah. That’s what I’ve been told.” She filled the awkward silence with, “I should get going.”
His smile disappeared, and his face flushed as he took two steps back. He seemed to want to get away from her as much as she wanted to be rid of him. He opened her driver’s side door, waited for her to jump in, then closed it without looking at her. When she peeked in her rearview mirror as she drove away, he was standing in the middle of the road watching her. She shivered.
A safe distance from the most stunning guy she’d met in a long time, she used the van’s Bluetooth dialing to call Kelsey, the one person outside her family she’d told the whole story of the attack that took away her ability to have children.
When Kelsey didn’t answer, she again pictured her friend running into heavy fog and never emerging. A surge of dread crawled across her skin. She told herself to relax; the day’s weather had her emotions all stirred up. Kelsey could take care of herself. Right?
The published first chapter of Into the Fog shows two friends running into a wall of fog and one disappearing. Here’s what a few said about the book:
“Randau has a way of grabbing your attention almost as soon as you first pick up a book and drags you along until, inexorably, she’s brought you to the denouement.”
~ Roxx
“The characters are well developed with just the right amount of clean romance to keep you wanting for the characters more with each page.”
~ Carlyle
If you enjoy fast paced romantic suspense novels, you’ll really enjoy this one!
~ Judy
One of Randau’s strengths is her use of unique ingredients to whip up an exciting yet inspirational read.
~ Robyn