The Storm (Fairhope) (18 page)

“Does Jeff know you’re not feeling well?” Brooke held an expression of innocence.

I don’t know, does he?
I wanted to snarl.

Instead, I swiped the icing off my cheek and licked it off my fingers, my taste buds thanking me. “I’m fine, Brooke.”

“Tomorrow’s the day, huh?” She sighed and tapped her watch. “To be kept or not to be kept…”

Was she serious? This was my
baby shower,
and she wanted to throw it in my face that I might lose my job the next day.

Checking my cell phone, Layla’s text flashed across the screen:
Where were you Friday? I had to suffer through Collin for HOURS.

Me:
It’s not common knowledge, but I am on bed rest. :o(

Layla:
Jana!!! I’m so sorry. Take care of yourself. We will see you when you get back.

The pang of sadness I felt clung in the air when I realized that I may never “get back.”

I lay awake all night, rehearsing my worst fear coming true. The anxiety was unbearable, a reflection of the nerve-wracking delay of the inevitable. Andrew rubbed my shoulders, brought me green tea, and even baked me brownies at 11 PM; God bless him. The last time I glanced at the clock was around 4 AM, and I’d just devoured my fourth brownie drowned in chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.

I rose restlessly as the brilliant morning sun shimmied to its place in the misty sky. I quietly slipped out of bed, not wanting to wake Andrew, and tied my robe loosely around my waist. I scrutinized my reflection in my full-length mirror, wondering if my slender frame would survive the pregnancy. My hips were so narrow that one of those pudgy postpartum bellies would make me look deformed, and I made a deal with God that if he would let me escape the post-pregnancy battle scars, aka stretch marks, I would entertain my mother-in-law’s insisting that we attend those Catholic classes.

Minutes later, I sipped freshly made coffee, overflowing with a little sugar and a lot of cream, twiddling my thumbs nervously as I viewed the sunrise from my window. I found myself soaking in a warm bath brimming with sweet lavender-scented bubbles, hoping the steam and aroma would calm me. I bravely whispered to myself that today was a beginning … not an ending.

My cell phone rang an hour earlier than expected. The shrill ring shocked me from a light nap. I glanced at the screen. Kevin from Human Resources. “You’re early.”

“Hello, Jana.” He sounded desperately uncomfortable. I imagined him wringing his hands together with that sour expression on his handsome face.

I knew.

His discomfort spoke every word I didn’t want to hear. My knees sunk to the cold bathroom floor, shaking.

“This isn’t an easy phone call to make. You have been displaced.”

I sat there, my knees burning under the weight of my ominous pregnant belly, the icy tiles chilling me to the bone. “I figured.”

“After a sixty-day warning period, you will officially be terminated. You will receive severance information via FedEx…”

I listened in silence, staring at my Covington Company name tag that lay on my dresser. Lots of people got laid off. But not like this…

“I believe the best is ahead for you, whether with Covington or with another company.” The rehearsed lines sputtered from his lying mouth, and my face furled in contempt. I rolled my eyes furiously.

I wished I could pull Grace out of my pocket to royally tell him off for me.
Of course it has nothing to do with my performance. It’s freaking discrimination, that’s what it is. And that’s the bottom line.

I pulled myself off the floor, dragging myself to my unmade bed a few steps away. “What am I supposed to do? I can’t exactly interview. Who’s going to want to hire me right now?” Whether Kevin felt guilty or not, he would have to listen to my ranting, although Jeff deserved to suffer through it more.

Conflicted tears of angry relief skipped down my cheeks. Andrew poked his head in our bedroom, and his face fell at my brokenness. He checked his watch and frowned knowingly. Quietly, he slipped in the dining area, and I heard him sigh and set his briefcase down.

I hung up on Kevin, resisting the urge to slam the phone against the wall.

“Andrew.” Devastated, I flew to him, burrowing my disheveled face into his solid chest. “It really happened.” No matter how much I’d anticipated being let go, the pain of rejection still shot its daggers through my heart.

He gathered me in his strong arms. “I love you. Everything will be okay.” His gentle confidence lowered my panic down a few notches. “I won’t
ever
let you down, Jana.”

“I know, Andrew. But … but … it’s so
wrong
,” I lashed out angrily. “Jeff’s probably shagging Brooke in some five-star resort, celebrating their job retention over top-of-the-line liquor, while I suffer. How does this
happen
?”

“I don’t know … but we are in this together.”

“What are we going to do about health insurance? And no one is going to want to hire me now!”

“We will find individual policies for you and Calla, and with your track record, you will be choosing between jobs.”

“No, I won’t,” I argued furiously. “No one in this industry wants to hire someone with a baby at home. C’mon, you know it’s true. They assume her focus is elsewhere. What choice do I have, Andrew?”

“Look at me, Jana.” Firmly, he tilted my chin and forced my eyes to meet his brilliant blues. “It happened. It’s done. Now, we pick up the pieces and move on. Your only choice is to believe that I will
never
let you fall. Do you believe me? You’ve always relied on yourself, and I love you for that strength. But it’s time to let me take care of you.”

I gave up the struggle to accept my new reality, succumbing to Andrew’s sensual touch and heartfelt words. I stared into his eyes, blue as the ocean and glowing at me with such power. Offering him a tiny smile, I curled up into his lap, my fingers clutching his broad shoulders. “Yes,” I whispered. “I believe you.”

“We start another chapter now.” Strand after strand, he feathered my hair, and I closed my eyes, relishing his affection. He kissed both sides of my face, his luscious lips leading to my exposed neck, where he lightly nibbled, kindling shocks of electricity throughout my body.

“What now?” My weeping ceased, replaced by submission to the only man I ever truly loved. He raised his mouth back to mine, sweeping me in a delicious kiss brimming with true love, a kiss that promised he would live up to every word he had spoken.

“Now, we live off my income, which is doable with careful planning and self-control. You will be thankful you married a finance freak.” He paused, resting his head sweetly on top of mine. “And we wait for Ashton to tell us who to call.”

“JANA! JANA!” Someone was shrieking frantically. I heard the familiar tones of a cell phone. Three beeps. “Hello? Please help me! My friend is expecting, and I found her outside. She is soaking wet, and I don’t think she is conscious.”

“Julianne,” I thought I said, but the words were trapped inside. Lying there on the pavement, unable to speak, I floated in a dreamlike state of consciousness that felt Xanax-laced.

What was that smell? Was it chocolate donuts?

I laughed in my head at the tiny sprinkles of rain that were falling on my face. It felt
so
good, like catching the last spray of a wilting wave on the crystalline beach that was the Cooks’ backyard.

Julianne was crying so hard. Why was she so upset? It wasn’t storming.

I moved my right index finger. Why was I clasping a piece of soggy paper? I tried to open my eyes, but they were so happy to be closed. They wanted to stay locked in my daydream.

I was outside. Why?

Wait.
The piece of paper in my hand … it was my mortgage statement.

And then I remembered what happened.

A BLOOD PRESSURE monitor, no sodium, and small meals every two hours were my prescription for survival after a day in the hospital. Twenty-four hours of poking, prodding, ultrasounds, blood work, and flurried visits from worried family and friends left me exhausted. Dr. Wilson was concerned about Calla’s lungs, and since there was miraculously no protein in my urine, decided an induction could wait a few more days.

Julianne, armed with chocolate donuts and my favorite Coke, the kind with the crushed ice from Sonic, discovered me semi-conscious in my driveway after making the trip from Biloxi. Her spontaneous visit was meant to take away the sting of losing my job at what might have been the worst possible time in my life, and instead, she found herself panicked and dialed 911. I had gone all day without eating, again, too distressed over the morning’s finality of losing my job to think about food.

I tried feverishly to obey Dr. Wilson’s bed rest demands, but my desperate need for distraction sidetracked me.
Nesting
is a tame word for the act I performed in my home. I could have served dinner off the toilet, licked the patio floors, or had sex against the sink in the utility room. When I ran out of Clorox, I propped myself up to paint, but sadly realized I was out of most of the primary colors.

Swelling rapidly, I reluctantly wobbled to our spotless bedroom and popped my cell phone off the charger, scrolling carefully through the dozens of missed calls to decide who to face first. I prepared myself for sympathy (job loss) and worry (after third hypoglycemia scare).

Sympathy was not the primary reaction of most of my friends. All they heard was the word “severance,” and even my sister-in-law reeked of jealousy.

“You’ve won the lottery,” doll-faced Jessica said. “How wonderful, Jana! You get to be a stay-at-home mom! What a gift.” Jessica and Daniel had been trying to conceive for at least a year.

I pondered her reaction, a humongous bite of a chocolate chip cookie beckoning me to indulge myself. “Jessica, I am actually
very
upset. I loved my job, and the money was unbelievable.”

“God has a plan! Besides, Andrew’s doing great, right? Daniel was bragging on him the other day. Once Calla arrives, you will see that this is a blessing! When she gets in school, you could always teach, like me. I think you’d love it!”

What
I
thought is that I would rather have been
even
Brooke Bennett’s associate, sentenced to a career of ass-kissing and fudging data, than a room stocked full of runny-nosed, back-talking elementary students.

“Thanks for the suggestion. It’s scary reading about how people cannot find comparable jobs. I feel depressed every time I hear about the housing crisis, and this ‘affordable’ health care is not so affordable.” I’d cried after seeing the figures quoted for my family of three.

Jessica hesitated. “Will you try to sell in that industry again?”

The thought of breaking back into the male-dominated world of medical device sales, and the training and initial long hours that would entail … with a brand new baby at home … made my stomach turn. The timing could not be worse.

“I … I don’t know, Jessica. Right now, I’m trying to focus on getting Calla here, healthy.” I twiddled my thumbs nervously.

I’d dabbled with a few job leads that morning, contacting recruiters via LinkedIn.

“So, Jana, why were you laid off?”