The Sound of Rain

by Sarah Loudin Thomas

  “Have you found anything? Any sign of where they might have gone?” Judd felt desperate, as though if he asked the right question, it might free Ben to give him an answer he liked.

  “Found where they had their picnic, we think. There were some eggshells and the grass looked mashed down. At one point, we thought we had their trail, but . . .” Ben’s voice faded to nothing.

  “But what?”

  Ben scrubbed a hand through his hair. “There was some torn fabric. I’m pretty sure it was from Larkin’s skirt.” He hung his head. “Had blood on it.”

  Judd strode toward the door. “Show me where.”

  Ben darted after him and laid a restraining hand on his arm. “Judd. It’s pitch-black out there. I’m not sure I could even find the place in the dark. We need to wait until first light.”

  Judd stared out into the inky darkness. He could feel the people in the room staring at him. They wanted to find Larkin and Kyle almost as bad as he did and they knew this country. He let his shoulders sag. “First light.”

  “Good. Eat a bite and see if you can get some sleep.” Ben started to turn away, then stopped. “And pray. God knows where they are.”

  Judd didn’t doubt it. He just hoped it wasn’t because they were with God.

  The stars mocked Judd. He tried to sleep after choking down a bowl of stew he knew he’d need to keep his strength up. Finally, he slipped outside while Ben and Paul—Maude’s son—snored on their cots. The rest of the crowd had gone home, promising to return with the sun.

  Judd tilted his head back and considered that it was Monday now, April eighteenth. One year ago tomorrow he’d walked into a mine he’d been carried out of before nightfall. As had Joe. Only his brother wasn’t breathing, wasn’t marveling at how bright a lantern could shine after utter blackness. Judd wished he could gather up light and carry it with him now. Not just a flashlight or a lantern, but the kind of light that shone into all the dark corners. The kind of light he’d seen as the sun rose over the ocean, falling against everything in its path, defining whatever it touched. Larkin carried light like that, and he realized he’d go anywhere and do anything just so her light could shine on him. He bowed his head, closed his eyes and prayed that wherever she was, her light was still shining.

  “Ready?” Ben offered Judd a cold biscuit with a slice of ham.

  “Been ready,” Judd said, shaking his head at the food.

  Ben wrapped the biscuit in a handkerchief and pushed it at Judd. “You’ll want something to eat eventually.”

  Judd took it and dropped it into the pocket of his hunting jacket. He’d hardly needed a coat in South Carolina all winter, but it felt good on this cool, spring morning.

  “What’s your plan?” Ben asked.

  “Show me where they ate and we’ll go from there.”

  Ben nodded, motioned for Paul to join them, and headed for the bottoms where he picked up a trail along Kettle Run. They hiked briskly, warming quickly as the pale light gave way to day. Judd considered eating his biscuit after all, but didn’t want to be slowed down even a second. He’d slurped a mug of coffee before they lit out and he could feel it sloshing against his ribs, giving him a sour feeling.

  “Here.” Ben pulled up and pointed to a grassy spot where the trees opened and water splashed into a small pool.

  Paul crouched down and poked at the grass and leaves. He didn’t have much to say, which suited Judd just fine. He looked around. He could almost see Larkin sitting on that rock, a handkerchief over her knee while she peeled an egg for Kyle. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, it was almost as if the sun glowed brighter there, where he imagined her sitting and smiling back at him. He blinked his eyes and noticed a gap in the brush opposite the clearing.

  “That a trail?”

  “Animal trail most likely,” Paul volunteered. “Some of them other fellers followed it a ways, but couldn’t find nothing promising.”

  “Let’s try it again,” Judd said.

  They headed out along what was little more than a narrow groove worn through last year’s leaves. Branches slapped at Judd’s face, but someone smaller, more petite could pass through here without too much trouble.

  The trail grew steeper and the hillside rockier. Judd stopped to get his bearings. He looked around, listened so hard his head hurt, and tried to think where a curious boy and a woman who’d grown up on flatland might have gone.

  A bird hopped on a branch and flashed red-spotted wings at Judd. It was a red-winged blackbird that had found a patch of sunlight where he could trill his oh-ka-lee over and over. Judd felt a smile quirk his lips and fought it. Larkin would love to see that. He was a little surprised to see the bird in the woods like this—they usually preferred the edges of pastureland. The blackbird flew down the hill, and it occurred to Judd that a boy and a woman unaccustomed to climbing probably wouldn’t climb. He scanned the terrain, saw a mass of rhododendron up ahead, and figured that would have turned them.

  Judd looked back at Ben and Paul, who stood waiting as though they had all the time in the world. Larkin and Kyle had been missing most of two days now. Judd fought the panic that welled up inside him. He tilted his head down the hillside, and Ben nodded. Choosing a likely path, Judd curved back down toward the creek.

  As they went, he noticed the trees opening up and the woods getting brighter. He stepped out and saw the red-winged blackbird perched on a dead tree, its head back and throat wide open. A brown, speckled female flitted nearby and answered. There was an old, overgrown road coming in from the far side.

  Paul brightened. “Hey, I know this place. They’s an old mine around here somewheres. Local folks used to come scrounge coal. Been a few years since I been here, though.”

  Judd’s gut twisted. Kyle had mentioned abandoned mines, and he’d warned him in no uncertain terms to stay away. If he remembered being a boy rightly, that would make showing them to Larkin more tempting than ever. He turned slowly, examining the terrain all around. The hill sloping up from the creek was steeper here, and Judd thought he saw something dark up among the branches.

  “That the mine opening up there?” he asked.

  Paul squinted. “Seems about right.”

  Judd felt something cold squeezing him from the inside out. He’d planned never to step foot in another mine. Much less a run-down old mine that probably hadn’t ever been stable to begin with.

  “Guess I’ll go have a look-see,” he said, climbing up the hill. Ben and Paul clambered after him.

  Judd pushed some overgrown brush away from the opening and examined it closely. He thought he could see scuffs in the dirt—like someone had knelt and crawled inside. He shuddered. Might have been an animal. What kind of fool would crawl into an abandoned mine? He pictured Kyle with his bright, curious eyes and his penchant for getting involved in whatever they were doing. He guessed he knew what kind of fool, and Larkin was just the sort of fool to go in after him. The very best kind of fool. He took a deep breath. And that was the kind of fool he wanted to be.

  Chapter

  34

  Ain’t safe to go in there.” Paul stood well back from the opening.

  “Don’t I know it,” Judd said.

  “If they went in there and haven’t come out on their own . . .” Paul trailed off. “Don’t bode well for ’em.”

  “I know that, too.” Judd took in Ben’s pinched expression. “Might just be some animal sign, but we won’t rest easy until we check.”

  Ben nodded and moved toward the opening. Judd reached out and laid a hand on his chest. “I have more experience crawling into a hole in the ground than you do.” He looked around. “Don’t suppose you have a rope or a flashlight tucked up in your pocket?”

  Ben chuckled like he’d been waiting for something to take the pressure off. “I surely don’t. If you want to wait a minute, I can go back to the church and see what I can find.”

  “Naw. Let me see if it looks likely, then you might send Paul back for tools, along wi
th water and some blankets just in case.”

  Ben smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Thinking positive. I like that.” He stepped aside to talk to Paul.

  Judd crouched down and peered into the opening. It got dark quick in there. He felt something cold creep along his spine and burrow deep in his belly. Entering that black hole was just about the last thing he wanted to do.

  Then he pictured Larkin, all coppery hair and glowing skin. Maybe there was at least one thing worth crawling into hell after. He gritted his teeth and eased through the opening.

  Inside, it was clear the mine had never been big enough for a man to stand in. He felt the walls all around. It hadn’t been shored up properly, either. He called Larkin’s name, but his voice sounded hoarse, low. Clearing his throat, he tried again, louder this time. He stopped to listen, straining his ears, and shuddered at how much it reminded him of those first conscious moments after the cave-in. He’d listened with every fiber of his being then, too. And heard the same thing. Silence.

  Judd moved deeper, wishing for any kind of light. The darkness was far worse than the tight space. Maybe he should have waited until Ben could go round up a flashlight. He felt his pockets, hoping there might be a book of matches he’d forgotten about. All he found was the biscuit that he couldn’t choke down if he wanted to, dry as his mouth was. He kept going, trailing a hand along the wall to his right to make sure there weren’t any side tunnels.

  “Larkin.” He tried again. “Larkin and Kyle, if you’re in here, I’m coming to get you.”

  Judd felt certain the shaft wouldn’t go very far or deep, and he tried to keep mental track of the distance. He was calculating in his mind as he crawled when his hand came down on some loose stone. He stopped and felt all around. Could be a dead end or a cave-in. The rubble at his knees made him think the latter.

  “Larkin, Kyle, you in here?” His voice sounded thin, like it wasn’t going anywhere. He called louder. Nothing.

  Judd began to shift loose rock, taking care so as not to set off a worse fall. He doubted he could move enough to tell anything—even if it was a cave-in, he had no way of knowing if it had happened recently or five years ago. He held his breath as he dug a little deeper with his bare hands.

  After a few minutes, Judd realized this wasn’t getting him anywhere. He needed to go get a light, a rope, and some tools. Then he could come back and decide if this was a likely spot to find Larkin and Kyle.

  Judd turned and placed his left hand on the wall. He blinked. He could have sworn he saw a light. He knew how staring into the darkness could sometimes make your brain send false light to your eyes and told himself that’s all it was. But just to be sure, he looked back at the wall of rubble. Yes. There. The softest glow. He blinked some more, but the faint luminescence near the top of the tunnel to the right didn’t fade. Judd scuttled back to the mine entrance, told Ben and Paul to get lights, picks, shovels, and men to help.

  “I saw . . .” He started to say light when he realized how crazy that sounded. “I saw what looked like a recent cave-in. Could be them.”

  Ben nodded, Paul shrugged, and Judd turned to reenter the dark opening.

  “Best wait on us,” Paul said.

  “Not on your life,” Judd answered and crawled as fast as he could back to that dim, almost indiscernible light.

  “Glowworms.”

  Paul, headlamp bobbing, was the first to reach Judd, whose digging had slowed. He could feel where he’d torn a nail and knew his flesh was raw. Paul pressed a pick handle into his hand and waved toward the hint of light lingering beyond the circle of the lamp.

  “You sometimes see them worms back in caves and such. Strange critters.”

  Judd felt like he couldn’t get a full breath. He stopped, hung his head a moment, and rested on his haunches. “Anyone else out there?”

  “Ben and two other fellers. I come in to spell ya. Ben said he’d come in once you come out.”

  “I wasn’t planning on leaving here until we find them.”

  Paul shrugged and handed over his headlamp. “I’ll let Ben come in and take a stab at it, then. Can’t say as I like it in here.” He disappeared back up the shaft, following the rope he’d brought down with him.

  Judd shined the light over what he’d done so far and was disappointed at how pitiful his progress was. He almost wished Ben would stay outside. There wasn’t much room for shifting dirt and rocks with just him there. He blew out air and swung the pick as best he could, dislodging a satisfying mass of debris. As it fell away, he thought he felt a puff of air, cool and soft, brush past his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into it. Then he switched off the headlamp and opened his eyes again.

  Light. He could see light. Must be a whole herd of glowworms. He swung the pick again and again, hurrying now, feeling an urgency to gain on the fall before Ben reached him.

  “Help.”

  Judd froze. Had he heard something? A voice whispering in the dark?

  “Larkin? Kyle? You in there?”

  “I want my mama.”

  Judd heard the catch and the sob. That was Kyle, sure as anything. He worked like a man on fire, talking as he dug.

  “Kyle, you hang on.” Swing, jerk. “We’re almost there.” The pick sunk in, barely moving any dirt this time. “We’ll have you out in no time.” Swing, jerk, and the sound of rocks falling. “Larkin with you?”

  Judd stopped, chest heaving. He listened with every ounce of his being.

  “Yes.”

  “Is she okay?”

  There were snuffly sounds, and Kyle was quiet too long. Finally, he said, “I don’t know. She’s awful still.”

  Judd felt as if a hand had closed over his throat, and he wanted to reach up and pry it away, finger by finger. He steadied himself with the pick and told himself Kyle was just a child. He didn’t know what he was talking about. The important thing was that they’d been found.

  A hand—a real one—closed over Judd’s shoulder.

  “I hear you talking to someone. Hallelujah. Our prayers have been answered.”

  Judd switched on his headlamp so he could see Ben as well as the fall of dirt before them. There was an opening at the top—just enough to talk through. Judd examined the shaft all around.

  “Need to be careful about opening this up. There’s instability here. Could make it worse if we’re not careful.”

  Ben blew out a slow breath. “Let’s pray.”

  Judd felt a moment of confusion, then bowed his head. Couldn’t hurt.

  “Father, we’re in a tricky spot here, but you sent a coal miner in to do the job. Please guide us in the work you have set before us. In your Son’s holy name, amen.”

  Judd raised his head and looked at Ben. It wasn’t the prayer he’d expected. His own prayer might have been more along the lines of God seeing to it that Larkin left this dark hole in the ground unscathed. But he guessed maybe God had brought him here and given him a job to do.

  “Let’s get to it,” he said. They began to work the opening larger, little by cautious little.

  Kyle crawled out first. Ben showed him the rope leading back to the opening and told him to start up the shaft slow and easy.

  “Maude should be out there by now. I’ll be surprised if she doesn’t have some good food and a warm blanket just for you.”

  The boy looked at them, his face serious. “I’ll be staying here to help you get Larkin out.”

  Judd nodded and crawled through the gap to where he could see Larkin’s feet in shoes never made for walking in the woods, much less going into a mine. She was so perfectly still. He heard Ben urging Kyle to go on, they’d be out in a minute, but the conversation was soon lost in the roaring coming from somewhere inside him. He laid a hand on Larkin’s ankle. Cold—so very cold. He shined the light along the length of her, noting her torn skirt, spotted with blood. He forced himself to keep looking until he came to her face.

  Her eyes were closed, expression serene. Her hair glinted through t
he grime, and she was somehow brighter than the lamp he wore. He reached out a shaking hand to touch her cheek and was surprised to leave a smudge of blood and dirt there. He glanced at his torn, dirty hand, noting the damage and not caring.

  “Larkin.”

  She didn’t move. Not even a flutter of an eyelid.

  Judd crawled closer and held his hand beneath her nose, trying to feel for breath. He wasn’t sure. Couldn’t be sure. He lowered his face until his cheek was almost touching her lips. He closed his eyes, tears washing his face.

  And then . . . a puff of air. He could feel her breath whispering in and out. It was like suddenly coming awake from a nightmare—reality was disorienting and hard to grasp. He brushed a wisp of hair from her cheek. This time her eyelids fluttered.

  “Judd. I knew you’d find us.” Her voice was rough, hoarse, and utterly beautiful.

  “Never any doubt,” he said.

  Tears welled in her eyes. “Is this the anniversary?”

  Judd furrowed his brow. What was she talking about? Was her mind addled? Then he remembered. “Joe. That’s right. No, tomorrow will be a year since he . . .”

  “Died in a mine.” Larkin pushed herself up to lean on one arm. “In a cave-in. And I had to go and drag you back down into the dirt and the dark.” Tears tracked her grimy cheeks. “I’m so sorry. Kyle was playing a trick on me—hiding in the mine. I could hear him giggling, but he wouldn’t come out so I followed him in. It was a ridiculous game.”

  Judd gathered her to him, wrapping her tight in the confined space, cradling her against his chest where she cried out fear and grief as though for the both of them. He rocked her gently, soothing himself as much as her, relishing the feel of her alive in his arms.

  When her tears subsided, they sat silent for a moment. Then Judd took what felt like his first breath since noon on Sunday. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so clean and bright as I do right now, sitting in a dark, dirty mine with you. I thought I’d die when I lost Joe. And I thought I’d die if I lost you.” He reached down and tipped her face up into the circle of light from his headlamp. “But when I saw you there, so still, I . . .” He choked, cleared his throat, and continued, “I knew I’d always carry your light with me, no matter what. The same way I carry Joe’s. I’ve kept any light in me buried for a long time, but somehow you’ve brought it to the surface, helped it break through the crust of my tough old heart.”