The Sound of Rain
Page 29
Pete relaxed back against the sofa cushions and looked at Sally, then Judd. “What do y’all think?”
“Oh, Pete, I think it’s wonderful. Like getting your family back and then some,” Sally said, tears glistening in her eyes.
Judd nodded. “My mother used to say, ‘The Lord gives, and the Lord taketh away.’ Seems to me, this time, He took away and now He’s giving back. I know I’ll be glad to call you cousin.”
Laughter suddenly burst out of Pete. He stood and spread his arms wide. “Me and Sally always have wanted a big family. This one just might work out.”
Chapter
40
Two days before the wedding, Ben rolled into town with Granny Jane, Maude, and Kyle. Larkin was beside herself with excitement. She put Maude and Kyle in the apartment that would soon be her home while Granny Jane stayed in the guest bedroom.
“Law, child, I don’t know what to do with all these frills. Afraid I might muss ’em if I ain’t careful.” Granny circled the room, touching things with just the tip of her index finger.
“Oh, Granny, I’ve imagined how wonderful it would be to show you all these luxuries. I wish I could give you eyelet curtains and indoor plumbing every day.”
“No, thank you. I might never leave the house if I had all this, and I like getting out too much. No, I’ll keep my cabin and necessary out back.” She gave Larkin a toothy grin. “But I surely will enjoy all this while I’m here.”
The day before the wedding, Abram and Lydia arrived at Judd’s boardinghouse. “We left the young’uns with Charlene Cutright. She always has doted on ’em, and although they wanted to come see the ocean awful bad, we said it’d have to wait until next time,” Abram said. He slapped Judd on the shoulder. “Couldn’t let my baby brother get hitched without a Markley or two in attendance.”
Judd grinned. He’d always thought of Joe as his baby brother, forgetting that’s what he was to Abram. He let himself wish, for just a moment, that Joe could be there, too. And somehow it felt like maybe he was.
The wedding wasn’t as fussy as Judd feared. It was in the afternoon—Larkin explained that it could be less formal that way. She could even wear a tea-length dress, an explanation that mystified Judd. There was only a handful of people, and Judd knew more of them than he thought he would. He glanced around the sanctuary as he took his place up front. Pete and Sally sat near Hank. Chuck was here with his wife, who couldn’t cook but by golly she was awful pretty. Granny Jane kept gawking at the windows and the rafters and the candles. Lydia blushed every time Abram looked at her, and even George and Augusta held hands like they must have when they were young and first in love.
Joe was the only one missing, but Judd felt as though he were present in a new way. Joe lived on in everyone who remembered him, and Judd seemed to recall something new about his brother every day. He could just picture Joe sitting there in the second pew, laughing at Judd stuffed into a brand-new suit and tie.
Which made him think about his tie and how maybe it was a little too tight. He ran a finger inside his collar, finding he had difficulty swallowing. Plus it was all-fired hot in the church, and those gardenias, which he’d thought smelled sweet when Larkin showed him some, were about to knock him over with their perfume. He fished out a handkerchief and dabbed at the sweat beading on his forehead, all thoughts of Joe fleeing as he glanced toward the door at the back of the sanctuary. What if Larkin changed her mind?
Abram, wearing a tie he’d borrowed from Hank, grinned like a monkey and poked Judd in the side. Judd darted a look at the rear doors, praying that they would open and this show would get on the road. Ben stood, Bible in hand, next to Pastor Brearley. He winked and gave Judd a nod that he supposed was meant to reassure him.
Then the music swelled, and the doors at the back opened to admit first one girl in a frilly dress, and then a second. Judd kept his focus on the doorway, looking for Larkin. Finally, she stepped forward on her father’s arm in the prettiest white dress he’d ever seen, with a bunch of roses and a wide smile. She even had her hair down, curling over her shoulders, and Judd wanted to reach out and touch it.
He started to lift his hand, but something was wrong. It was like the church was suddenly filled with thick fog, and stars sparked beyond the corners of his eyes. He tried to move, but felt like he was stuck in mud up to his armpits. Then blackness—mine-deep blackness—began to close in on him until all he could see was a pinprick of light. He tried to stare down that light, make it grow, but he feared it was a losing battle.
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today, in the sight of God . . .” The voice traveled down a long tunnel, and Judd felt panic rise, a tide of fear that he thought might wash him out to sea.
Then he heard Joe laughing. And not just a little. It was a deep, full belly laugh. It had been the last time they went deer hunting before Joe died. They’d shot a doe out of season and loaded it in the back of Joe’s beat-up old Jeep—not exactly hidden, but not advertising what they’d done, either. Joe was driving when they came up on a checkpoint. A game warden sat in his car, keeping warm. Judd thought they were done for when the warden waved them down.
“You boys seen anybody hunting out of season?” he asked through his open window.
Joe, calm as could be, leaned out his own window and began having a conversation with the warden. They talked hunting and fishing, and Judd thought they might start in on farming when finally another car came along and the warden waved them off.
Judd collapsed against the back of his seat. “Are you out of your mind? All that feller had to do was stand up and he’d have seen the deer in the back.”
That was when Joe started laughing like he’d just heard the best joke ever. “He couldn’t. I pulled up too close for him to open his door.”
Judd felt something like joy bubble through him where he stood there in the church, and the pinprick of light started to get a little bigger. Then a hand touched his. A warm, gentle twining of fingers tugged him forward. The warmth traveled up his arm to his heart and on to his head. His vision began to clear, and when it did he saw not his baby brother, not the gleam of daylight, but something even better. It was the love of life brimming in Larkin’s blue eyes. And just like that, Judd felt himself come out into the open. It was like stepping into the stillness in the center of the hurricane. Chaos lurked on every side, but here, protected by a love bigger than any of them, all was well. He took a deep breath, let it out again, and pledged his life to the woman who filled his every day with pure light.
Author’s Note
The Ocean View Memorial Hospital didn’t open until 1958, four years after Hurricane Hazel swept through. One of the pleasures and prerogatives of writing fiction based in history is tinkering with that history. I don’t do it often, but I wanted Larkin to volunteer at a hospital, and the one in Loris was too far away. So I moved up the date. Of course, the hospital was also just a few blocks off the ocean and would likely have been severely damaged if it had been around for Hazel, but it sure was handy to have a refuge available for those displaced by the storm. The hospital closed after just twenty years, unable to keep up with the rapid growth of Myrtle Beach.
Acknowledgments
My first job out of college was as a public relations assistant for the Myrtle Beach Area Chamber of Commerce. This was when I learned that without Hurricane Hazel, Myrtle Beach, SC, would probably not be the tourist destination that it is today. In 1954, Hazel took a sleepy little seaside town and literally wiped the slate clean. Where private homes and cottages once stood, little remained but sand and rubble. Estimates are that eighty percent of oceanfront buildings were either damaged or destroyed.
Except for the Pavilion.
When I was in high school in Buckhannon, WV, the coolest place you could go on vacation was Myrtle Beach, and the coolest place in Myrtle Beach was the Pavilion. My family did finally take several memorable trips to the beach, much to my delight. One year I got the worst sunburn of my life. Another y
ear I took a girlfriend, and she let me try my first—and last—cigarette while sitting outside the hotel’s pool overlooking the ocean.
But I never did go to the Pavilion. Too wild, too many boys, and really, Dad was probably right. The Pavilion of the nineties was far different from the Pavilion of the fifties. And what I really wanted was to go to the Magic Attic—the upstairs nightclub where other people were clearly having more fun than I could even imagine.
Well. Probably not.
I finally made it to the Pavilion, thanks to the chamber and my job helping to promote the annual Sun Fun Festival. That’s where I met Vanna White (a native of North Myrtle Beach) and Roy Clark (Hee Haw was required viewing back home). They paled in comparison to the edifice that opened its doors in 1948 and then fell to the wrecking ball in 2006.
That’s right. Hurricane Hazel left her standing, but time and the economy did her in. The Pavilion is no more.
Except . . . I can clearly see Larkin there on a quiet September night after the tourists have gone for the season. She’s doing the shag to music only she can hear, and time is standing still.
My thanks go to Doug Bell, who gave me that first job and believed I was a writer—maybe before I did. Also to Angel Frantz McAllister and Julie Bostian, who made Sun Fun 1994 an absolute blast and spoiled me for real jobs.
Of course, this book is also about a West Virginia coal miner. My love and appreciation go to all the miners in my family—especially Uncle Harry, Uncle Judd, and Grandpa Rex.
I couldn’t have written the timber industry bits without my baby brother, Daniel, who broke his leg TWICE during his timbering career. Thanks for going into a slightly safer line of work. If anything in the story sounds off, it’s because I didn’t listen to you carefully enough.
To my husband, Jim, thank you for actually gasping the first time I read the introductory pages aloud. I can’t think of any better encouragement. Although the many mugs of tea are a close second.
If it weren’t for the amazing teams at Bethany House and Books & Such Literary, I’d be writing for my own amusement alone. Dave and Wendy, I hope you know how much I appreciate your partnership.
Most importantly, I thank God for orchestrating the story of my life that continues to unfold day by day. While the unexpected plot twists often take me by surprise, I know there’s a happy ending, and I can’t wait to see what the next chapter holds.
Sarah Loudin Thomas is a fund-raiser for a children’s ministry who has also published freelance writing for Now & Then magazine, as well as the Asheville Citizen-Times and The Journey Christian Newspaper. She holds a bachelor’s degree in English from Coastal Carolina University and is the author of the acclaimed novels A Tapestry of Secrets and Until the Harvest. She and her husband reside in Asheville, North Carolina. Learn more at www.sarahloudinthomas.com.
Books by Sarah Loudin Thomas
The Sound of Rain
A Tapestry of Secrets
Until the Harvest
Miracle in a Dry Season
sarahloudinthomas.com
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