“Saturday morning,
September 25, 2004, Janelle was listening to the news. Oh no! Not again!” The
commentator had just said that hurricane Jeanne was coming their way. “What is
going on? The man said hurricane Jeanne would be the tenth named storm, the
sixth hurricane, and the fifth major hurricane of the 2004 Atlantic hurricane
season.” Surely, it won’t come here, she thought. Ivan didn’t hurt us much. It
hit up in the
Answering
a knock on her door later that morning, Janelle was ordered to go to the
nearest shelter by nightfall. Jeanne was coming – she was expected to hit there
around 10:00 p.m. or after.
Janelle’s
hands shook as she again carried her photos and keepsakes to the car. Feeling
sorry for herself, she let the tears slide down her cheeks. She felt so helpless
– so abused. She put her things in the car and headed back upstairs. On the way
her stomach got queasy and she had to rush to the bathroom. Morning sickness
was an everyday occurrence now.
Coming
out of the bathroom, she dragged herself to a kitchen chair. There were things
she needed to do, but her strength was gone. “Mommy the cartoons are over – we
want dressed.” Jayme, looking so cute with her tousled curly, dark hair and
innocent big brown eyes, had come into the kitchen and was pulling on her arm.
Janelle picked her up and gave her squeeze and a kiss. Rubbing noses with her,
she asked, “What do you mean, we? Beth dresses herself.”
“I
want dressed and Bef wants you to help her pick her
clothes.” She had gotten off Janelle’s lap and was tugging on her arm again.
“This
is true,” Janelle agreed, getting up and following Jayme into their bedroom.
She found the room in total disarray – clothes and toys all over the place. The
sight made her glad they didn’t have more toys and clothes to throw around.
Janelle
helped the girls and then got busy. Once she got started, she felt a little
better. She thought she’d go to the shelter around 9:00 p.m. That afternoon she
was trying to figure out what she could have for supper, but there was too much
racket to think. “Girls! What’s the matter in there?”
she called from her favorite spot, a seat at the dinette table where she liked
to stare out the window. “Are you two fighting?”
“No.”
They said in unison, sounding so innocent.
“Well,
you better not be. I have to get supper. We have to go back to the shelter this
evening – another storm is coming.” To her dismay, they started to cry. She
hurried to their room. “What’s wrong?”
“We
don’t want to go to the shelter. We don’t want another storm.” She gathered
them into her arms.
“No,
of course you don’t. Neither do I or anyone else in
Later,
while driving to the shelter she had a very unpleasant sense of déjà vu.
Questions kept popping up in her mind. Why was all this happening? Was God mad
at
Both
girls were pouting which made the job of getting them out of the car that much
harder. Remembering all that had happened lately, Janelle was far from being in
a good mood herself and though she had determined not to, she found herself
screaming at them. At last they were inside. She headed for the same chairs
they had occupied the other time, but that spot was already taken so Janelle
herded the reluctant little girls to a spot further down the row.
Disappointment piled in on top of anxiety and frustration – her chairs were
taken and she didn’t see Brent anywhere.
As
she sat dejectedly, Janelle noted that the girls looked tired. She hoped they
would soon go to sleep. She wanted to be left to herself to lick her wounds.
(Continued...)