Saving Katie Baker (6 page)

“So, who do you think we should try calling about the road? Well . . . about all the mess in general,” Katie asked Blake, as if he should know the answer.

“I think the best thing for us to do is to just wait it out. The clean up crews usually head over to help out as soon as they can, once the other main roads are clear. We can try the cell again later, maybe contact your insurance company.”

“I just hate waiting around. Don’t you think the fire department would come out and clear the roads for us?”

“Listen, if this tornado did this to our houses, just think of what it’s done to others. Actually, lets check the news and see what’s going on,” Blake said as he walked to the flat screen that was bolted to the wall in the living room.

How could this silly television sit untouched on his wall and yet Katie’s whole home was destroyed? Katie looked over at Blake, guilt seemed written across his face as if, once again, he could hear the ramblings in her head.

Blake’s house was the one that the big bad wolf wasn’t able to knock over. Katie felt very much like one of the three little pigs, yet it didn’t matter how strong her house had been built, it still would have gotten knocked down. That’s how her life went. It was never a fair game.

Katie walked over to Blake as he flipped through the channels until they came upon a station that worked. The view was one that both of them least expected.

“I can’t find anybody,” one woman wept as she was wrapped in the arms of another woman’s embrace. Behind them was what appeared to be the scene of a war zone. Demolished. Wood was everywhere. What was once loved belongings now looked like trash. Everything was dark. The scrolling message on the bottom of the screen read:
TORNADO LEAVES 26 DEAD.

Katie was taken aback. She walked over to Blake and sat down next to him. Her little girl was cradled in her arms. Blake sat starring at the screen while another man was speaking to the reporter, “I was lost walking through my own neighborhood. There are houses down everywhere.”

“It’s going to be a long time before things are back to normal again, Katie.” Blake said with tears surfacing in his eyes.

“Life hasn’t been normal for me in two years,” replied Katie as she stood up and walked with her daughter back down the hall to Blake’s room, where it appeared they would be remaining for another day—at least.

Blake continued to sit with his eyes glued to the screen, captivated, overwhelmed. They were calling it a massive EF-4 tornado. The victims were many, and the devastation was great. Grocery stores where he shopped, motorcycle shops . . . they were all gone. Cars were sitting upside down atop rubble.

He sat staring and instantly felt the desire to send out prayers. He wasn’t sure what Katie’s beliefs were. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what his own were, but he knew that the only way they were going to get through this was by some miracle. So that’s what he asked for: he asked the universe to bring them a miracle.

After he sent his request out into the world, he stood up, picked up the debris that had fallen in his living room, grabbed his untouched coffee along with the bag of garbage, and walked out the door to see what he could find from Katie’s belongings that might bring her some form of comfort.

CHAPTER
6

T
here was an uncanny chill in the air that surrounded Blake as he walked across the street. It was a feeling that he couldn’t quite describe. It wasn’t cold, technically, it was supposed to be spring here in Phil Campbell, but often Alabama weather had a hard time making up it’s mind on whether or not April should be Spring or Winter. The wind was blowing all around him; the clouds were grey and angry looking—like they were preparing for another attack.

He shivered, noting goose bumps that had just made their way to his arms. Blake debated whether or not he should turn back to grab a sweatshirt, but he decided against it. He didn’t want to go back inside the house and face Katie without some type of positive news for her.

Blake’s heart was heavy, full of compassion for this new family that had become a part of his life. He couldn’t help but think about them. Even though he wouldn’t wish this horrible situation on anyone, he did feel a bit of relief to not be going through this tragedy alone. He dreamt about them in his sleep last night. He wondered how he could best help them? He thought of all Katie and Micah lost, not just the loss surrounding the storm, but surrounding everything.
How far do they still have to go before healing takes place?
It was going to be a very long road—for them all.

He remembered a verse from his childhood days in church about loving your neighbor. It seemed so easy to understand when he had first heard of it. But now, actually living it out in action was a completely different matter. This loving, it sounded so simple but in the scheme of things, it felt so impossible. He actually had a neighbor that needed his help. He remembered voicing his feelings during a religious conversation with some of his old church friends that love was his religion now. What did this really mean? Once again, he pondered the irony in all things.

“How do you love someone that is so . . . resistant like Katie?” He said out loud as if by throwing out the words into the air, he would actually receive an answer from the heavens. He no longer believed there was some great big deity sitting up high and mighty on a throne in the sky with a royal scepter in his right hand ready to smite anyone who questioned or doubted.

He now knew that the universe didn’t work like that, but right now, he wished he could have some sort of answers speaking back words of wisdom to help him fight against Katie’s ongoing stubbornness. It seemed like such an impossible task.

He thought about signs and omens. He had tried to live his life in a state of positive thinking: glass half full rather than half empty. After all, perception is reality. He knew that right now positivity was needed more than ever. Blake closed his eyes, took in a deep, slow inhale then exhaled, as if meditating. Then he opened his eyes towards Katie’s home in the hopes that something, some manifestation of magic, would be there waiting to be discovered by him.

This search reminded him of the same treasure hunt for seashells and sand dollars. His eyes were wide, searching in the dirt for some sign of beauty.

The first thing that caught his eye from the place where Katie’s house once stood was the big, black wood stove. It sat unscathed. Sturdy. It looked high dollar. He walked closer and noticed the arched decorative glass cut out in the front, meant for fire watching, with the letters JOTUL engraved underneath. It was so beautifully sculpted.
Wow, I’m sure the fires in that thing were gorgeous
, he thought.

Blake wondered if Katie and her husband spent much time in front of this wood stove,
did they share sweet moments cuddled up together?
He opened up the glass door on the stove; it didn’t appear to have been used much at all and looked practically brand new.

Blake tried to re-count a few of the memories he had about Katie’s husband. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to really know the man since they hadn’t had very many interactions before the accident. But from what he could gather, the two of them would have gotten along great, maybe even been friends.

Her husband would always wave to Blake whenever he was heading to and from work. He never complained about the parties or the loud revving of motorcycles that were came and went. Blake often worried about the noise and whether or not it was bothering them. He’d apologized for it a few times, but her husband always shrugged it off as if it wasn’t a big deal.

He remembered one particular time when Katie’s husband even walked over after he had just grabbed mail from the mailbox and spotted Blake in the garage. He reminisced about the conversation.

“Hello neighbor.” Micah had said, while Blake was changing the oil on his bike.

Blake stood up from the ground, wiped the oil off his hands onto a white rag and smiled. “Hey. How are ya?”

“Hanging in there. The baby is due any day now, just trying to make the wife as comfy as possible while she waits. She’s not digging my motorcycle query.” Micah said.

Blake shrugged his shoulders. “Give her time, dude. Most women come around eventually. Maybe after the baby comes she’ll chill out about it.” Blake reached for a beer from the miniature fridge that was plugged into the wall of his garage. “Want one?”

“Sure. Thanks.” Micah had replied as he took the bottle, twisted off the cap and gulped down a swig.

It had been a pleasant conversation. They talked motorcycles, the need for speed, and living your life to the fullest. Blake thought Katie’s husband was a great guy.

Blake remembered the Katie he observed back then, too. Though they never spoke, she was different. She never used to complain. She never shot dirty glances his way, no; that didn’t come until after the accident. Something changed. She was no longer the same person anymore.

He smiled as he remembered the day the Bakers moved in. They looked so young and yet so happy together, always touching, always laughing. Blake remembered envying them. He wanted to find love; it had just never been his turn; relationships with the opposite sex were not his specialty. Many bad relationships piled up in his past often reminded him of why he chose to be a bachelor.

Blake had told himself for years he was content with his single lifestyle, but deep down he secretly wondered if this would always be the case. Having Micah, the toddler, around caused him to question things. He began to think about himself as a father and became curious about whether or not he would ever get the opportunity, and whether or not he actually wanted it.

Blake thought about the little girl and it reminded him of the day Katie’s husband didn’t come home with her. There were dark clouds looming in the sky. It had been raining that day—not your typical light summer rain, but a downpour. One that made driving difficult.

The couple had left together. Blake remembered them being all dressed up under the umbrella. Katie was wearing a red dress; her swollen belly suggested that she didn’t have much longer before a new member of the family would be joining them.

Blake often felt like a peeping Tom watching the couple as they pulled in and out of the driveway they shared with him. He couldn’t help it; he’d always been drawn to people and their stories. After that day, all became quiet across the street. Blake watched for signs of life. An entire week went by and he didn’t see anything except for a few lights that had been left on inside the empty cottage. When he finally did see movement, it was only Katie, and with a new baby in her arms.

The husband was gone; he never came home. At first, Blake wondered if they too ended up like the other couples he knew—separated or divorced—but this situation had a different feeling surrounding it. At night, Katie’s shadow would dance through the house, swaying back and forth. The living room light stayed on all night as if darkness was banned. There was a silent sadness.

Katie had never been one to have visitors before, yet cars were often parked one by one in her driveway, most of them contained people dressed in black who would drop off what appeared to be meals in glass casserole dishes. Katie didn’t open the door though. The guests would stand, knock a few times then leave food on the steps, sometimes scribbling notes along with them. He read the signs. He knew then Katie’s husband had died.

He decided to go over to her house when the other visitors had finally ceased from coming. He wanted to offer his own condolences to Katie. He wanted to tell her he was sorry for her loss, but each time he would ring the doorbell it went unanswered. He had stopped by every day for two weeks.
I don’t know why she’d answer my knocks since she didn’t answer the others
, he had thought to himself.

After a couple weeks, he stopped trying. He figured if she wasn’t answering, then she must just want to be left alone. He determined he’d comply with her wishes. That’s what he’d been trying to do for the past two years. He’d been giving her the space she seemed to want. Sometimes though, it’s just not possible.
Sometimes the universe has other plans
, he thought with a wry smile.

Blake never knew the details surrounding her husband’s death, but he knew it had really changed her. It was as if her soul had vanished along with her husband’s. It was as if she too had stopped coming home that night.

Blake heard wood cracking under his feet as he continued his walk inside what used to be Katie’s home. He realized he was standing in what he would guess to be the old living room, but hardly anything was recognizable. The footrest of a chair, wood from a coffee table, and pieces of carpet were strewn everywhere. A turquoise suitcase caught his attention off to his left. He walked over to it, picked it up and dusted the debris from the top of it. It wasn’t a normal suitcase; this one looked vintage and smaller than usual.

He opened the latch and found a bunch of tiny tubes of paint. Little black sketchbooks were sitting underneath the many colors. He flipped through some pages and found paintings of what he guessed were watercolor on the pages. He wondered if Katie was the artist or if it might have been Micah, her husband. He held onto the piece of luggage and continued rummaging through the other items nearby.

Moving a chair out of his way, Blake noticed a photo that sat alone behind some of the glass. He recognized Katie and her husband, Micah. It was a beautiful photo. It looked as if it was taken somewhere in the tropics.
Hawaii, maybe
, he wondered. Katie was wearing a pink bikini, squished up next to her husband, behind a waterfall. She was glowing in the image as she stared at her man. Both of them sported huge smiles.

Blake wondered if Katie would ever share their story with him. He hoped she would find a way out from the place she hid deep inside, locked up and caged by her own hands. Would she forever be lost? Would she ever bloom again? Would she ever smile like she did in this photo?

He continued to walk through the clutter and toward the back. A quilt lay crumpled on the ground with colors of bright pink and lime green.

Micah
, he thought to himself, realizing that this must have been her room before the storm. He bent down to grab the material and was surprised to find it dry. Blake shook off the glass and wooden splinters from its grip and hoped that this little blanket would at least bring her some comfort—some stability. Maybe he could help a little in that aspect.

There was so much. So many little things he debated picking up, dusting off, and taking back to the house in order to give Katie the opportunity to decide whether each thing were worth keeping. He realized, standing in the midst of this rubble and looking around at another person’s life in pieces on the floor, that there were memories here within each item, memories he didn’t know. Each small piece of debris held stories of it’s own, and he knew he couldn’t do this for Katie. She was going to have to come dig through the damage for herself.

It wasn’t going to be fun or easy, but Blake determined right then and there, between shards of glass and watercolors, that he would stick by her side while she figured out what her next few steps would be. He wouldn’t leave her to fend for herself. Katie was stuck with him, and she was just going to have to suck it up and learn to accept his help. She was going to need it.

Katie thought she was so strong and, to a degree, she had been. With a little girl to take care of, he didn’t begrudge her need to be strong; he didn’t blame her for hiding her feelings. But it was time that she also started to think of herself.
She’s got to put her oxygen mask on herself before helping anyone else
. Blake surprised himself at his own flight attendant analogy. Yes, he would be there for her. He would teach her how to put her oxygen mask on and he would help her find her smile again.

Blake walked back to his house with the luggage swinging by his side, the quilt under his arm and the photo between his fingers.
What should I tell Katie? How should I tell her that she’s got lots of hard work ahead of her?
How could he make her go back into that house when it had been exhausting even for him, who had no sentimentality attached?

Blake struggled to get the door open with his hands full of what he hoped would be a little bit of consolation for the girls. Neither Katie nor Micah was in the living room. Blake quickly glanced in the kitchen, but they weren’t to be found in there either. He pondered whether or not he should check on them in the bedroom.
Would it be uncalled for? What if Katie was having a bad reaction to the injury?
He had to check on her.

The door was closed. He knocked but received no answer. He tried knocking louder. When he was still left standing without an answer, he began to panic and decided to open the door.

“Katie?” Blake spoke her name aloud as he slowly cracked open the door, careful not to be intruding. When he didn’t see the girls anywhere, his fear began to rise. He pushed the door all the way open and entered the room. “Katie; Katie are you OK?” He noticed his race shirt, the one she had been wearing earlier, lay crumpled on the floor. As soon as he realized his mistake he turned around to head back out of the bedroom.

Just as Blake turned, he knew that the door to the master bath had been opened and Katie’s gasp made him jump.

“What are you doing in here?” Katie screamed.

Blake was smart enough not to turn around. He was afraid of what he would find if he did, so he just froze. He heard Katie scramble around for clothing. Micah came waddling up to his legs, in only a diaper.

“We take bath,” she said to him. Her hair in tight wet ringlets dripping water down her chubby cheeks.