Charity Noelle: A Novel

By Kathy Almeida

Charity Noelle is in love. She is working and living in the Florida Keys, hoping to someday make a name for herself with her music. But then Hurricane Irma arrives. Packing everything she has left and loading it into her small beat-up Volkswagen, she heads for the mountains of Tennessee in search of a new beginning. Sometimes, losing everything turns out to be a gift instead.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Jun 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781982229498

Kathy Almeida

Kathy Almeida is a creative artist. She lives in Belleview, Florida along with her husband and family on a farm with their animals - which includes a dog, three cats, five cows, a rescued steer, a donkey, and up until this year, a very bossy goat. She loves taking care of her family and her special needs adult son who has autism and a seizure disorder. She writes, paints, and crafts - inspired by her love of life. Mikaela’s Story 2 is her 7th novel and 8th book.

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Copyright © 2019 Kathy Almeida.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Balboa Press

A Division of Hay House

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.balboapress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, some events, places and restaurants are figments of the author’s imagination.

Author photo by Frank Almeida, Photographer

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 978-1-9822-2948-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-2950-4 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-9822-2949-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019907592

Balboa Press rev. date: 06/18/2019

Praises for Kathy Almeida’s books

"The trilogy of Sunny’s Story will take you away into Sunny’s family with laugh-out-loud humor, love, struggle, relationships and just plain fun. They are perfect summer reading. Sure to entertain and delight. A perfect escape." Lisa Woodward, Artist

Kathy’s characters will capture your heart and will endear themselves to you. Yes, this is one crazy family. And yes, there is quite the high spirited drama in some of their lives, even ghosts, yes Ghosts. These sisters get into hysterical situations; Sunny & Rain combine to create thunderstorms not rainbows! You’ll find yourself laughing along with them and cheering them on to make their dreams come true. In short, you may laugh, shout, and even become slightly teary-eyed because these stories are about family, love and life at its best. Laura Allen, Creative, Writer

"And Then There Was Rain, the latest book in this wonderful trilogy does not disappoint! I was drawn in by the characters, who instantly became my friends. I laughed, felt frightened for them, and pure joy with them. The only disappointing thing about this trilogy, is that I am finished reading it. I can’t wait for Kathy’s next book."Brittany Penta, Reader Extraordinaire

"Kathy celebrates life and love while taking the reader on a wild ride with her third book in the Sunny and Rain trilogy. And Then There Was Rain is the perfect beach, airplane or anytime read. This book is full of mishaps, joys and unexpected adventures with a message that reminds us to live fully and enjoy each moment. Guaranteed to make you laugh out loud." Gayle Nobel, Life Coach, Author

This book is for you,

Frank,

You’re Still the One

The one I want to hold hands with,

The one I run to,

The one I want to share my life with…

Here’s to 43 years of us……I love you.

And you,

Chrissi,

My, Charity Noelle

Contents

Sunday, Sept 10, 2017, somewhere in the Upper Keys…

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Acknowledgements

Sunday, Sept 10, 2017, somewhere in the Upper Keys…

What are you doing? I screamed into the wind. I swatted at a tree branch that crashed into my leg, sending the wood structure flying down the drive. I pushed back the wet hair plastered to my face out of my eyes.

Leaving! Bobby shouted back, while holding back the opened truck door to keep it from smashing his hand.

What?! I screeched, rushing to stand in front of him by the side of his truck. The old Ford pickup’s lights were on, illuminating us, the shadows, and spaces in-between. The sun had not yet risen; too early in the morning, but still, there was no chance of it showing its face today.

I love you Charity Noelle. I just need to do this. Please understand.

But, I don’t understand! I cried, tears mixing with rain and creating a river of its own, streaming down my face. You can’t leave me now. Not with this! I waved my arms around frantically at the darkened skies, howling winds, and drenching rain. A hurricane’s coming! Can’t we talk about this later?

I’m sorry, Charity—you’ll be fine. You’re a strong woman.

He leaned into me, grabbed my shoulders, and kissed me hard on the lips. Then he turned and climbed into his truck, with the wind slamming the door hard, just missing his fingers. Bobby started the engine. It choked. He tried again. The third time, the old Ford’s engine kicked in, and with one wave, Bobby backed out of the drive and sped out of sight.

I can’t believe this… he left me, I whispered to no one. I stood still, oblivious to the pouring rain and the storm raging around me, until a strong gust of wind almost knocked me over onto the gravel road. Shaking from shock, as well as fear, I made my way back to the place where we’d been living for the last six months, an old rusted-out mobile home—the very kind of home we’d been advised to evacuate.

But, no, Bobby had said we’d be just fine. We wouldn’t have to evacuate. No, we’d hunker down and be just fine… the two of us. Those were his exact words. And now Bobby was gone.

He left me. The words hung in my brain like a nasty cold.

I glanced over my shoulder, hoping that I’d see his old beat-up truck pulling back into the drive, door opening, his smiling face saying, Come on darlin’. I was just kiddin’. Let’s get the hell out of here.

And I’d run to him, jumping into his lap, no matter how much the steering wheel stuck me in the back, and kiss his face over and over like I had a thousand times before.

Only there was no truck and no Bobby coming back for me. After a time, the realization finally set in… settling on me like the wet clothes clinging to my body.

I climbed the porch steps to the entrance of our home, grabbed the door handle and turned—and then the door took on a life of its own, the wind flinging it back, sending potted plants on the rail crashing down, breaking into a thousand tiny pieces of painted blue clay. I stared at the broken pieces. They were like a mirror of the shattered pieces of my heart.

Just then, a Mahogany tree smashed down on top of the shed a few hundred feet from the house. Startled, I ran inside and struggled against the fierce winds as I pulled, then shut and bolted the door.

Right, Charity Noelle, like that’s going to keep a Category 5 hurricane from coming in, I said to myself.

The television was on, with Stephanie Abrams forecasting that soon the eye of the storm would be approaching the Keys. She was somewhere on the Gulf Coast of Florida, standing in the wind and the rain, looking beautiful as ever. I watched, transfixed, until dawn approached on Sunday. Then the power went out and everything went still and dark inside—while outside, Irma’s furious winds howled and raged.

Looking for my mobile phone, I tried to call my mom in Miami. But my call couldn’t be delivered. I sent my sister, also in Miami, a text, and then I deleted it. I looked around the room.

He really left me.

The thought smacked me in the face, just like the wind had earlier —a wind that continued to beat on the walls, the fragile roof, and the door. Mother Nature wanted in, and I’d better find a safe place to hide.

This was no normal game of hide-and-seek.

I ran into the bedroom, looking for something to crawl under for protection. Spotting our bed, with its crumpled sheets and memories of last night’s love-making, I heard Bobby’s words all over again, as if he was there with me now, telling me that he loved me, that there was no other like me, and how hot and sexy he found me as he… I shook my head, pushing those thoughts out of there. I pulled the sheets off the bed, leaving them in a crumpled mess, and then dragged the mattress and leaned it against the closet.

Stubbing my big toe against the wall, I cried out in pain and then anger. I replayed Bobby’s early exit in my mind.

How could you! I screamed out loud to ears that wouldn’t hear me. My voice couldn’t compete with the gusts of wind beating against the trailer’s walls. I tried to move the mattress inside the tiny closet, but was only able to wedge it in sideways. Into that tiny cavity I crawled in, with Charlie, my trusty guitar, which at the moment was my best and only friend.

Holding a pillow to my chest, I waited for the fury of the storm to pass and leave me be. Not usually a betting woman, I was willing to place a bet this time that Irma’s fury would be long gone, before the one inside of me that was brewing would exhaust itself.

Hunkered down for hours under the mattress, I shook each time I heard a loud noise, like something being thrown against the wall or objects crashing to the floor, as the wind and rain took possession of my home.

Please God, I promise I’ll never ever get hooked up with the likes of Bobby McGee (yes, like the song), again, if you please, just please, let me live through this hurricane, safe and sound. And I promise I’ll go to church; I’ll even go to confession. I heard a loud banging crash, like the roof falling in.

Okay! I promise I’ll even make up with my sister. And at that, the house went quiet.

Really? That’s what it took? I sat still for what seemed like forever, but then, just as I was about to get out from under the raggedy mattress we’d picked up at a garage sale, the winds picked up, howling and thrusting their might again, woken up from the eye of the storm. I shrunk tighter into the closet, holding my pillow closer until I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up, the fury of the storm was gone.

Sliding out from under my man-made cave, I stood and brushed the dust and dirt from my cutoffs and T-shirt. Looking up, I saw what was left of the room. The bedroom walls were bent like an accordion, the dresser we’d bought from the thrift store was crushed in half, and the mirror above it had shattered, the glass sparkling like tiny crystals on the carpeted floor. Part of the roof was gone, to where, I had no idea.

Looking up, I felt the rain on my face as it continued to fall, only softer now instead of the torrential downpour from before. Feeling numb, I walked carefully into the living room, hoping to avoid cutting my bare feet. That’s when I saw where a portion of the roof hung low, meeting the top of the couch that lay on its side.

Dishes were strewn on the counter and floor from the open, swinging cabinet doors. Chairs lay broken like kindling, and the kitchen table had been cut in half, under the weight of a huge tree limb. (I really liked that table, too. We’d picked it up at a garage sale and Bobby loved that I’d painted it teal, the color of the ocean on a calm day.)

I wish now that I’d painted it purple just to piss him off. Bobby hated purple, because he said it reminded him of plums and he couldn’t stand plums. The east side of the mobile home was long gone. It was like I had ocean front property, literally.

The front door swung free as a raccoon huddled near the entrance. I jumped seeing it, landing on a sharp object. Shit!! I yelled.

Startled, the raccoon ran for safety behind the couch. After checking to see if my foot was bleeding, I headed for the front door. I started to step out onto the front stoop only to discover that there was none, and I almost lost my footing. I spotted what was left of the stoop across the front yard.

I crouched and hopped gingerly down to the ground below. Trees and debris were scattered everywhere. And across the street, a power line was down, blowing across and on top of the car underneath it.

Irma had left the house and the worst of the storm was over. Even though the winds had lost their punch, palm trees were bent over as if in prayer, and loose branches still swirled across the rain-soaked dirt path (Irma’s fans following close behind in her wake.) My hair whipped across my face.

The rain came down steadily, but I didn’t care. I looked around to the west and saw the bay in the distance, still churning and roiling strong. I made my way to my car, Baby Blue, an old, beat-up Volkswagen. Like Bobby’s truck, it was a step away from a junkyard. Beat-up seemed to be a common theme with us, and now I was its latest victim.

As I inspected the car, checking to see what kind of damage there might be, I remembered the day I’d purchased it. It sat on the small car lot, catching my eye instantly even though it was old, dirty, and an ugly dark green. It ran smoothly… well, it kind of jumped and needed a push to get started, but it fit in my budget and I knew I could make it mine. As soon as I’d saved enough money, I had it painted baby blue, thus the name.

I’d scrounged around in carpet store dumpsters for left-over carpet remnants until I’d found swatches of blue carpet, which I used to carpet the floor of the car. Today my car had survived the fierce winds of Irma, a miracle! And even if it was old and beat-up, at least it was all in one piece and mine.

I looked around, surveying the damage to the mobile home, the terrain, the ocean and my heart. I made a promise and a declaration then, to myself and for the world to hear.

You’ll be sorry, Bobby, that you left me. But you’re right, I am strong. And I’m getting as far away from here and you as I possibly can, as soon as I can. And just so you know, my life is good, better than good, especially now that you’re gone!

And I stomped my foot in the mud just to show that I meant business, and fell right on my ass on the slippery slope. I hoped that was not a sign of things to come.

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CHAPTER 1

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CHARITY

It’s my life, it’s now or never… I ain’t gonna live forever… I just want to live while I’m alive. (It’s my life!) My heart’s an open highway, like Frankie said, I did it my way…

I’d been singing and playing Bon Jovi’s song over and over, while I drove north on I-75 for the last hour. The flashing lights behind me caught my attention, though, ending the duet concert Bon Jovi and I had going.

Ma’am, can I see your driver’s license please?

Officer, did I do something wrong?

Speeding.

I wasn’t speeding.

You were going eighty-five in a sixty-five mile-per-hour speed zone.

I promise you, Officer, I couldn’t have possibly been going that fast. Baby Blue, she doesn’t even go up to 85. Besides I’m surprised my car can move at all, packed with all this… I said, waving my arm around, to point out pretty much everything that hadn’t been trashed in the storm: my guitar, Charlie, a duffel bag stuffed with some clothes, one lone suitcase, along with makeup, and what little jewelry I owned.

I’d also packed my favorite chair… a once-unfinished rocker that I’d bought for my dad, for his 40th birthday. I’d finished it myself, and kept it after he passed. I glanced at the chair—with its top half resting across the front seat and its seat and rockers extending onto the backseat— and it brought up memories of the day my dad saw it, his smile, and the hug he’d given me. I wiped away the tears from my face and turned my face to the officer.

You can argue with me all day pretty lady if you want, but I still need to see your driver’s license and registration, please.

You think I’m pretty? You know some women might take offense, not that I would… just sayin’.

License and registration.

Fine, I’m getting it. I reached over to the glove compartment, forcing it open under the rocker that leaned above it. I began fiddling around with all of the papers stashed in there.

Um, exactly what does a registration paper look like? I can’t remember. It’s been awhile… actually, this is the first time I’ve ever been pulled over. Oh, wow there’s the necklace I thought I’d lost. And, look, here’s my old wallet, and it’s got money in it. Cool! Let’s see…

Ma’am!

Oh, I’m sorry, Officer. Here’s the registration. I’ll just get my license out of my purse. My purse is almost as big as that suitcase, I said, pointing to the rear seat. I looked up at the police officer then and smiled. He didn’t smile back. I managed to pull my purse up off the floor on the passenger side. I opened it and found my wallet.

Here, you go.

Is that a bottle of wine in your purse?

Um, yes, but it’s empty, I said, holding it up.

Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step out of the car.

Why?

Step out of the car, please.

I looked up at the sky. The sun was in the west. Damn, at this rate it’d be dark before I reached the state line. I unbuckled my seat belt, opened the door, and stepped out onto an asphalt road.

I took a deep breath and released it into the face of the officer, who took a step back, reaching his hand down to the gun on his side.

What the hell did you do that for? he asked.

I thought you wanted to smell my breath, to see if I’d been drinking, which I can assure you, Officer, that I have not. That bottle was one I snuck into the movies last week; I just forgot to take it out of my purse. Oops, I probably shouldn’t have said that, right? I asked, noticing the look that the officer was giving me.

But you understand don’t you, the alcohol drinks they serve in the theater are so expensive. I mean, I can buy a whole bottle for the price of one small glass, I said, shrugging my shoulders. I’m pretty sure I saw him roll his eyes, as he removed his sunglasses and used them to wipe his brow and forehead.

So, am I cleared? I asked, starting to get back into the car.

Not so fast young lady.

Young and pretty, I said, smiling. Good thing I don’t object to being called such things, I said. Apparently, the officer didn’t think that was funny. So, I took the breath test, did the walk twice, and aced both. But I still got the ticket, two in fact—one for speeding and the other for a taillight that was out. I waved to the officer as he sped away, giving me a warning look.

It was dark before I made it to the state line.

Damn you Bobby McGee, this is all your fault. If you hadn’t left me, I’d still have a place to live… what am I talking about? That mobile home was a heap when we moved in, and thanks to Irma it’s not even worthy of the garbage dump. But you still shouldn’t have left me!

I looked up to see a bird flying overhead, giving me the eye. I’m not crazy!

Crossing over the Florida/Georgia line, I took a deep breath, releasing with it much of the tension and anxiety that I’d been holding for the last several days. Since the night of the hurricane I’d spent my time gathering what was left of my things—packing them into my car, camping out in the closet at night to sleep, with Charlie for company, and grabbing food from a local diner, Orange Blossom, that was still standing and running on a generator.

Feeling freer than I had in what felt like forever, I turned the radio on, and searched for some music to keep me company. Soon the music, darkness, and the highway stretching into nothingness had me rethinking driving until dawn. Stomach growling, I pulled off at the next exit that offered food, sleep and gas.

I parked Baby Blue underneath the overhang of what looked to be an old, but nicely kept, motel and walked into the lobby.

Can I help you Miss?

I’d like a room for tonight if you’ve got one available.

You’re in luck. We were booked solid during the hurricane but now we’ve got plenty. Single or a double?

Single, please.

Queen or a king? he asked, studying a computer screen. And smoking or non-smoking?

King and non-smoking please. How much is it a night?

For a king and non-smoking that’ll be $100, plus tax.

How much for a queen?

$75.

And a double?

$70 plus tax.

Any singles?

No.

Okay, I’ll take the double.

Third room to the right on the second floor. Here’s your card, will you be needing two?

No, I’m good, thanks.

I signed the necessary papers and gave the man a hundred-dollar bill. He handed me $25.10 in change along with a card to get into the room. I looked at the change in my hand, wondering if I’d have enough to get to where I was going without charging. I had a thing about paying everything in cash, but at this rate, my money was going out fast.

All you need to do is run this side of the card above the door handle, and your door will unlock.

Thank you, I said.

I parked Baby Blue closer to my room and gathered my purse, over-night bag, and guitar, Charlie. This was my first night on the road by myself and I felt a little bit nervous, which brought up the subject of Bobby… again. How could he? I asked myself, kicking the tire of my car which only hurt my toe. I limped toward the elevator, which looked old and rickety. And when it opened, the guy exiting left such a stench that I opted for hobbling up the stairs.

At the door to my room, I tried the card. Once, twice, upside down, left to right, sideways… and finally the green light popped on. Once in the room, I turned on every light and checked under the bed, in the closet, and behind the shower curtain, cursing Bobby all the while. I put the chain on the door, and moved the desk chair to the door. And thinking on it again, I moved the table to the door, as well.

Then I remembered that I hadn’t eaten yet.

A half-hour later, feeling hot and sticky from moving everything out of the way so I could open the door, I thought about taking a shower but then I’d have to move everything back again… and again. Instead I stuffed my hair under my favorite straw cowgirl hat, letting the cool air conditioner blow a breeze across my neck and cooling me instantly.

I left the room, making sure the door shut tight, and pulling on it to see if it was locked. Reassured and craving a good salad, I walked across the highway to Ruby Tuesday’s restaurant. The restaurant was packed for a Tuesday night. Grabbing a menu, the hostess led the way to an empty booth. I ordered the salad bar with a baked potato, onion rings, and a glass of Pinot Grigio. Then I took out a pencil and sketchbook from my purse.

I decided to draw to take my mind off of the fact that I was alone in a restaurant filled with couples, families, and other groups of people, laughing, eating, talking, and looking like they were all having a good time. Nobody looked like me, a young woman alone and who’d been left high and dry (wet) during a hurricane.

I took a gulp of the cold wine, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

Easy cowgirl, you look like you’re going to punch a hole right through that table.

Startled, I looked up and quickly moved my hand over my drawing. I was gazing up into the face of a stranger, a tall, dark and handsome stranger.

So, what did that guy ever do to you? he asked. Or, do I want to know?

Don’t get me started. Besides, I don’t know you from Adam, and I don’t spill my business to people I don’t know.

Let me introduce myself… he began.

No need, and you can just take yourself back up to a standing position, I said to the dark, handsome stranger who’d made himself comfortable in the seat across from me.

He smiled without moving. Are you always this rude? I asked.

I could ask you the same question.

I’m not rude. I was sitting here minding my own business till you showed up.

You just looked like you could use some company.

Well, you assumed wrong. I stared at him, giving him the meanest expression I could come up with.

What? he asked.

Leave.

What if I said no? he replied, with a daredevil smile.

I nodded toward the bar.

That young lady over there? You think she’ll rescue you?

That’s when I noticed that the bartender was indeed a woman, and a small, petite one at that.

Fine. But I can scream bloody murder, just so you know, and I’m sure someone will kick your tall ass out.

Oh, and she has a mouth, he said, smiling, his eyes shining with amusement.

Whatever.

Okay, I’ll leave. Tell me your name.

No.

Fine.

Tall, dark and handsome got up and moved to the bar. I continued punching holes in the paper, feeling a little sheepish now about it, and wondering if the stranger was watching me. But every time I looked over at him, his back was turned facing the bar, and he was in deep conversation with the cute little bartender.

Finished with dinner, I slipped the journal back into my purse, and pulled out my wallet, waiting for the server to bring me my bill.

Are you from out of town?

I turned toward the voice, which belonged to the stranger, now facing me from his seat at the bar.

I made a face at him.

He smiled. He had the most amazing smile of anyone I’d ever seen, including mean ole’ Bobby McGee, who could turn any girl’s head.

Suit yourself, he said.

And that was when I noticed his blue eyes. They were bluer than blue, and reminded me of the clear blue water in a spring fed river, like the ones my daddy took us to when we’d vacation in North Central Florida— like Silver, Rainbow, and Juniper Springs. The springs had water that was so cold, when we jumped in and later long after, we’d be shivering on a hot summer day, even when the temperatures reached 100.

I’m headed north, he said with a Southern accent.

Fancy that, I said, mimicking his Southern drawl.

He raised an eyebrow.

Sorry, old habit of mine. Every time I hear anyone speak with an accent, I can’t help myself. I try to copy it.

He laughed a deep-throated laugh that made me want to join in with him. I smiled. The server came and I handed her the money with the bill.

Change? she asked.

No, we’re good.

Where are you from? asked tall, dark and handsome.

Most recently, the Keys, I said, deciding to give him an inch.

Irma.

Pardon me?

Irma. Suffer any damage from the hurricane?

Yes. Lost everything. Well not everything, just a good-for-nothing boyfriend that took off and left me during the storm and an old, rusted-out mobile home, which technically I was just renting. Turns out I didn’t have a hold on either one.

What the hell? I’d just spilled my guts out to a total stranger.

Oh, so that would be the guy in the picture, the one with holes all over his face?

I looked at him.

Stranger took a swig of his beer and said, His loss.

I tried to decide if he was sincere or using this as an opportunity to hit on me. Bobby used to tell me all the time that I was just a big come on… a tease, the way I smiled and looked pretty, which lured that kind of guy to me. Apparently, Bobby was proof of that.

Thanks, I answered.

You’re welcome. I see that you’re staying at the hotel over there, he said nodding his head to the hotel.

Yes. Alarm bells sounded. Wait, how do you know that?

Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.

You did not scare me.

He chuckled and then said, I saw you leave the lobby as I pulled in under the overhang.

Oh. Well, I’ve got to go. I’ve got people waiting for me in the room, I said hurriedly, scooting out from the booth. Nice meeting you.

I left without turning around to see if he was watching me or not, hoping he would not confront me with