Storm's aftermath strains couple's finances

Loss of home, workplace, frustrations over rebuilding, living in a camper strain David, Ruby Kersten to the limit

By Cathy Frye, John Krupa

If it wasn't for the telltale high-wire lines, David and Ruby Kersten would have driven right past their property.

The Super Tuesday tornado that hit Atkins leveled not only the Kerstens' home, but also David's towing and auto-repair shop, which shared the same patch of land off U.S. 64 just east of downtown.

Looking out on his tornado-ravaged property, David picked up a cellular phone and dialed his wife, Ruby.

He had grim news to deliver.

"Well," David said, "We lost it all."

Until David, 56, could rebuild his shop, Ruby, 51, would be the only one with income, from her job as a jailer at the Pope County lockup.

The insurance settlement the couple received wouldn't be enough to rebuild the shop and their home, so they decided to use their retirement fund to make up the difference. That meant putting off indefinitely their dream of retiring in a few years to a remote log cabin on rural land they already owned. By the end of February 2008, the Kerstens had moved a trailer camper onto their Atkins homesite so they could oversee the rebuilding.

They furnished the camper almost entirely with donations. Only two things came from their old home: a bouttonniere from their daughter's wedding and seven pieces from a miniature Nativity scene. Baby Jesus remained missing.

The couple kept a basket of essentials - marriage license, car titles, bank documents and a safe-deposit key - near their bed. Many times during the stormy spring of 2008, Ruby grabbed the box and camped out under the trailer's overhang, weather radio in hand, watching the skies for trouble.

During moments like these Ruby realized how much the tornado had changed her.

In May, after months or clearing debris, haggling with contractors and watching her savings evaporate, the stress broke through Ruby's usually calm exterior.

One night at the jail, Ruby had to book a woman who was still drunk from too much partying. Right away, the woman started giving Ruby problems, arguing, screaming and jerking away.

In the past, Ruby defused situations like this with words. But the woman raised her arm to hit Ruby.

The next thing Ruby knew, the woman was on the ground, maced and handcuffed.

Ruby knew she did everything by the book. But the incident still unnerved her.

I could have talked her out of it, Ruby thought.

Her relationship with David also showed strain.

Married for nearly 35 years, the couple rarely fought.

But in early June, the Kerstens got into a shouting match when David started storing some of his equipment in the camper, adding more clutter to an already disorganized environment.

Ruby kicked her husband out and made him take his tools with him.

"I'm not putting up with this bullshit," David shouted.

He slammed the door.

Life improved after David went back to work later in June. He, Ruby and some friends had just raised the walls on a small, covered shop. It wasn't a permanent solution, but there was enough space to start working on cars again and rebuilding the business.

Long-term, David planned to use the shop for storage and build an actual garage where his old one used to stand.

While David focused on the business, Ruby focused on their new home. The latest plan was to build the new house on a half-acre of abutting land that they bought from a neighbor who also lost his home to the tornado and decided not to rebuild.

Ruby envisioned a two-story home with lots of light, an open floor plan, maybe even a wraparound porch - a place where she and David could lounge on pleasant spring and autumn nights.

Building on the newly acquired lot would also help the couple better separate home and business, something Ruby had wanted for years.

Invigorated, Ruby decided to quit moping.

On Aug. 17, Ruby hired a contractor.

By Halloween, everything seemed on track.

David's new garage had just opened, and business was booming. He was working again with old friend Don Austin, a fixture at David's Garage before the storm.

Together again, working in comfortable silence, felt like the good old days. Don shone a light up into the underbelly of a car as David changed out a part. Fluid dripped down onto David's hands.

David smiled. It felt good.

By December, Ruby was smiling too.

The shell of the house was up, enough for Ruby to walk through pointing out the highlights. Here's the bathroom with space for a Jacuzzi tub big enough for two. There's the walk-in bedroom closet, perfect for a wall-length shoe rack.

Outside, Ruby bragged about her huge concrete driveway.

"Look at my runway!" she laughed.

"Until a month ago, I wasn't excited," Ruby said. "Now, I'm starting to see it."

The contractor had promised to have the house ready by the end of January. Work seemed on track. Ruby didn't get it in writing, but she had no reason to doubt the date.

But by the second week of January, it was clear that wasn't going to happen.

For Ruby, who had watched enviously as a neighbor's house went up more quickly than hers, the problem was simple: The contractor and his crew weren't working hard enough.

Four days had just passed with no one at the site.

Ruby called to complain, but the contractor wouldn't answer his phone. Ruby concluded that he'd spread himself too thin with other jobs.

If the delay stretched into March, the couple would face a dilemma.

The camper they'd been living in needed significant repairs, and to get it covered by warranty, it would have to be in the shop by March 1.

With their savings tied up in the house, paying for the repairs out of pocket wasn't an option.

So Ruby pushed the contractor to finish at least the master bedroom and bath by March 1.

The house had heat, so the couple could camp until the rest of their home was completed.

If that didn't happen, Ruby and David decided they would sleep on a mattress inside the shop.

Ruby understood that delays accompany construction. But still.

"It's starting to get a little frustrating," she said. "But everything worth having is worth waiting for. That's what I keep telling myself."

The afternoon of Feb. 5 - exactly one year after the storm - Ruby left the camper to do what she hated most: washing clothes at the Atkins Laundromat.

She had taken the day off work because of the anniversary. She'd felt anxious for days and worried that she might get violent if she went to the jail.

Work at the house had slowed even more, and the chance of having it ready by March 1 seemed slim to none.

Plus, the contractor had become careless as well as slow. He'd forgotten to connect the house's plumbing to a sewer line. He put in a Jacuzzi tub too small to fit both Ruby and David. And Ruby wanted child-safe, pullout cabinets, not ones with knobs, hanging in her kitchen.

She and David argued after Ruby complained to the contractor about the shoddy work. David told her to bite her tongue. They needed to get in that house ass soon as possible. They needed to take what they could get.

But the couple had been living in a broken-down RV for a year, waiting on this house. They had mortgaged their future on it. It was supposed to be done right. It was supposed to be perfect. It was supposed to be their dream home.

"And I'm not getting it," Ruby said, tears falling from her face. "I'm not getting the house I designed."

Ruby had hoped to attend a candlelight ceremony that night to commemorate the twister's one-year anniversary.

Now, weeping in the coin-operated laundry, she wasn't sure she could take it.

***

Six weeks later, Ruby stood proudly beside her very own washer and dryer, housed in a bright and airy utility room in her new, finally finished house.

"It's awesome," she gushed. "No more laundromat."

The house, large and sunny, with a wraparound porch and playroom for the grandkids, was just what Ruby had envisioned during those long, cramped months in the camper.

"I miss my furniture - it was antique cherrywood - but look at this space," she said, leading guests through each room.

A week earlier, friends organized a housewarming party, inviting Atkins residents to drop by and see how things had turned out for the Kerstens. The event was front-page news in the Atkins Chronicle.

The new house cost the Kerstens all of their savings, but now, as in the past, Ruby's paychecks will go toward their retirement fund.

"We're debt-free, except for the new furniture," Ruby said. We'll sell this home in about five or six years and build our log cabin. After going through all this," Ruby gestured toward her new home, "we'll be able to do most of it ourselves."

This article was published June 6, 2009 at 11:00 p.m.