Storm Tossed: A troubled woman finds peace with herself and God in the midst of life's storms. Read Free

the circular, stained glass window and laughing, but this time the laugh was different, uncomfortable almost. Rachel looked quickly into his dark brown eyes, and she saw it. There it was. Fear. Then he shook it off, and she oddly remembered Judges 16:20 when Samson woke up and tried to shake himself free of the Philistines, not realizing that the Spirit of God had left him. Now why did I think that , she thought.
    “Okay, later,” Ben said. Rachel smiled and waved, busying herself with neatly organizing the supplies she’d just bought. A place for everything, and everything in its place , she mused, hearing her mother’s voice again. Before all Hades breaks loose.

Chapter 2: Colorless
     
    Most people didn’t want to take the chance to stay behind in East Destin and the surrounding areas. Traffic for people evacuating was backed up for miles, glutted on the Mid-Bay Bridge over Choctawhatchee Bay, who were heading for Highway 20 to get to Highway 85 and the heck out of dodge. The huge jam on the bridge resembled ants stuck in Terro sticky pesticide. When Rachel watched the news on her iPhone, she was so relieved she hadn’t left a fter all. What a mess!
    She ate her salad hurriedly, just to get it done so she could get to the ice cream. She’d lost 35 pounds since last year, radically changing her diet and exercising, but she still binged at times, especially under stress or when she was depressed, on Ben and Jerry’s Peanut Butter Fudge Core ice cream. Her guilty secret.
    The storm would soon be here. She ate her ice cream slowly, as if to pause time and to keep the devil away as long as possible, savoring every sugary bite, licking the spoon like a lollipop. If she didn’t stop this habit, she would gain all her weight right back. But OMgosh, it was so good.
    She remembered the day that Jackson looked at her, really looked at her, when she walked in their house after running errands. It was like he suddenly realized she’d lost weight. Maybe she should go to the post office more often! He looked her up and down, his eyes caressing her curves mentally. He stared at her stomach. Or rather, the lack of it. She’d had belly fat for years and was finally losing it.
    He was smart enough not to say anything, of course, because she was hypersensitive about her weight anyway, but she could tell he was surprised. And, yes, pleased. Interested . The way he used to look at her when they were first married. Looking at her like he wanted a grilled steak, a devouring, hungry look.
    She had smiled a little at him then, and walked off, feeling happy. Who knew that her husband looking at her with desire could give her such joy? But of course, nothing had happened after that. It hadn’t for a year.
    An entire year. How did they get there? She didn’t know. It didn’t happen fast. Just little compromise by compromise. They stopped talking except small talk about the bills, Faith, the weather, his construction job, how her writing was going. He was exhausted from working a lot, and she was exhausted, from who knows what.
    Stress about finances. Perimenopause. Writing 3 books in six months. Her stepdaughter Autumn, who only visited in the summer when she was growing up, and just occasionally now, but whose visits left her emotions tangled and raw. When she left to go back to her mom’s as she was growing up, Rachel was totally depleted and felt guilty for being relieved for peace and quiet finally.
    Autumn Rain. What a beautiful name. She was beautiful, too. Long silky blonde hair, like Faith’s. A slender French nose (her mother was half-French and had been married six times) and very thin lips which she made Angeline Jolie-full with lip liner and bright, almost purple lipstick. Her eyes were a pale sky blue, and she magnified them and lined them with Goth-black eyeliner and fake, thick, long, black eyelashes. She took them off every night and glued them on every morning. It took her 30 minutes (an hour to put on her whole