When The Water Rose

I drew Rosa close to my breasts and watched in awe as she raised a chubby fist in the air, rosebud mouth moving from side to side as she searched for my nipples. When she didn’t find it, her little face scrunched up with the beginning of tears. I leaned forward to help. She finally latched on and settled down to suck.

I closed my eyes, savoring the pull of her lips on my nipples and the warmth of her weight in my arms.

A new babe, a new house, and a new beginning. What more could a woman ask for?

A husband who stayed home.

Soon, Rosa’s mouth slackened and my nipple slipped out of her mouth. I tucked myself in and reached out to place her on the side of the bed Ken should have occupied had he been home.

Unsurprisingly, he wasn’t. He never was.

The wind picked up, slamming the branches of trees beneath our window against the window pane. I rushed to the windows and peeked out. My breath caught at the glory before me. Everything seemed to be moving at once, propelled by the force of the gale lashing out like an angry child.

I loved rains, the smell and the naturalness of it.

All I needed to complete this glorious night was a cup of coffee and a Linda Howard novel.

I turned away from the window with a smile playing across my lips and moved to check on my three-year-old son, Rick asleep in his room down the hall. Edging the door open slowly, I peered in. He lay with his thumb stuck in his mouth, eyelashes cresting across the top of his cheeks as he slept.

I let out a sigh. All was right in my world. Who needed a husband?

Perhaps it was time Ken and I parted ways. He was never here and I suspected our son and daughter didn’t know him. The betraying thought was one I always edged away from like a boxer backpedaling away from a superior opponent. I wasn’t ready to find out.

By the time I made it back to my room, the rain had begun. The whole house rang with the ding as the rain beat unrelentingly on the roof. I cringed. Tin roofing sheets were a bad idea, but it had been all I could afford. Jeez, I needed a ghostwriting gig, fast.

I slipped into bed beside my babe and grabbed the waiting Linda Howard novel on the nightstand sans the coffee. I snuggled into the warmth of the blanket and soon lost myself in the characters.

The rain continued to fall steadily. About two hours later, I pushed off the covers and sat up. The bed slipped to the left with so much force I slid across and nearly kicked Rosa off.

I froze.

Just then a streak of lightning split the sky, the white zigzag so close to the windows, my heart stopped beating.
Like the accompanying beat to a macabre music, the rain continued to beat harder on the roof. My heart beat gradually slowed. I took a deep breath and glanced down at Rosa. She slept peacefully.

My son.

I scrambled off the bed, threw my feet to the ground, a rush of cold slammed through me as my feet touched water. I screamed and drew back desperately. The bed moved with the force of my movement, floating easily across the water.
I crawled across the bed to grab Rosa. She woke up and wailed. I didn’t give myself time to think. As far as my eyes could see, water covered everywhere.

Was there something wrong with the plumbing?

I wrestled the sheets off the bed and wrapped it around Rosa. Dipping my feet cautiously into the water, I shivered as the water hit me mid-thigh.

Jesus.

I plodded towards the doorway. When I got to the hallway, I gasped, for the waters continued to side even as I watched. Coupled with Rosa’s screams, terror held a vise-like grip around my throat, choking me. But I had to keep moving.

I stopped in the middle of the hallway and stared at the door to my son’s room that stood ajar. The space where his little cot usually stood winked at me, empty. For a second, I stood unmoving.

Rosa wailed, trying to push her head out of the blankets I had swamped her in.

Tears trailed down my cheeks as I continued to stare into my son’s empty room.

With a heart-wrenching sob, I turned away and moved towards the front door. At the entrance to our living room, I slammed into a furniture and barely managed to hold myself upright. When I righted myself, I gaped and tears of joy slid down my cheeks. My son’s cot floated in the middle of the living room and he still slept, dead to the world. I pushed my way through the waters and shook him awake.

There was no time.

I held on to Rosa firmly and grabbed him by the waist, hugging him to my warmth.

“Mummy?” he asked, rubbing his eyes groggily.

“Yes, baby. Can you help me wrap your legs around my waist?”

When I was sure I had a firm hold on my children, I made my way to the front door and pushed it open.

The force of the cold slammed into my lungs. My eyes watered and the scene blurred.

I tightened my hold on the children as my shoulders slumped.

The world had come to an end while we slept.

As far as my eyes could see down the street, the water continued to rise. As I watched, furniture floated out of houses and parents carried their children out.

I glanced down. The waters had risen up to my hips. My children fell silent, perhaps they sensed my unease. I pressed a kiss to Rosa's forehead and said a quick prayer.

“What are you waiting for?” A woman screamed as she waded her way towards us.

I shook my head. “What?”

“This is the rainy season; here we do not sleep when the rains come.”

I hadn’t slept either. But there was no point telling her that. Was there?

"Come on," she waved her arms desperately, urging me to move faster.

My son clung tighter and whimpered. I gritted my teeth and moved. I blanked out the pain in my arms, thoughts of my husband's whereabouts and concentrated on getting my children safely out.

I stared at the patch of dry land where all the families in the streets were gathered and moved. When it seemed like I had lost all feelings in my arms and feet, hands reached up and helped me up to our refuge

Teeth chattering, heart and body numb, I huddled with the others and cradled my children close. We were silent, listening to the sound of rain and waters gushing from upland to pool in our houses, destroying the peace.

I stared out through unseeing eyes and waited for the rains to stop. Perhaps, I slept, it was difficult to tell, but somehow morning came. We remained seated on our little hill of refuge watching as the waters meandered their way to only God knows where.

By afternoon, our lethargy wore off. The group became more animated and the children grew restless. Mothers were occupied with taking of the children as the men clustered, discussing solutions to the flooding problem.
I listened with half an ear.

"When something comes cheap, question it's value," one of the men said.

"True. A land is only as good as the price you put on it."

"Hell, the same applies to women."

The men laughed.

"Forget women. We can't continue living like this. I regret buying land here."

I perked up and half turned towards them.

"You wanted a land more than half below the market price and that's what you got."

An arrow of pain shot through my heart. The bastard. I had given Ken the full market price amount for the land. A year income I saved from my ghostwriting gigs. I couldn't believe he could betray his family so.

"You see--"

"Wait, I just saw a hand in the water."

"No, it's--Christ. Who would go out in this weather?"

My heart changed beat and began to pound sickly beneath my breast. I looked down into my Rosa's face and I knew.

"Maybe it's someone from the next street."

"Grab his leg."

I didn't turn. I held my children tight and closed my eyes as the sound of my heart shattering resounded in my ears.

"Who knows this man?"

I rose on trembling legs and pushed my way through the group. I stopped before the body. As I stared down at Ken's lifeless form, I didn't know whether to cry, scream or howl.
"He's my husband."

^{All images from Pixabay}