Fading Thunder

by Sheila Hollinghead

  He shrugged his shoulders. “No one listens to a kid.”

  “No, I suppose not.” I had not been listening to him.

  His fingers smoothed the edges of his sheet. “Army hospitals are strict. They won’t allow you to stay.”

  “Maybe I can come back after I check on Uncle Howard and stay in the waiting room.”

  “Even if they agreed, who would want to sit in those metal chairs all night? What good would that do anyway? I’ll be fine.”

  He did seem fine, especially for someone who just had surgery. “Can I get you anything before I go?”

  He shook his head. “And don’t worry about me. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of entertainment.” He cocked his head toward the hidden boy whose creaking bed indicated his antics. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Open the curtain. The kid’s young. He needs company.”

  “All right. Love you, Zeke. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Okay. I’ll be here.”

  I hesitated a moment before I pulled the curtain open. The young boy waved at me. I waved back. The planes of Zeke’s face had relaxed, and a smile played on his lips.

  I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing my brother would be fine.

  Chapter 6—The Drake House

  Aunt Liza and Marla waited outside of Uncle Howard’s room, both leaning against the wall. Aunt Liza’s face brightened when she saw me, and she straightened.

  “How is he?” I asked, giving her a hug.

  “The doctor’s with him now.”

  As she spoke, the door opened and the doctor stepped out. His eyes first alighted on me, and he spoke directly to me. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. Barnett’s daughter.”

  Aunt Liza and I exchanged looks, and a brief smile reached her lips. She shook her head when the doctor faced her. “This is my niece.”

  He nodded in my direction before turning back to my aunt. “Your husband is recovering quickly. I’ll probably release him tomorrow if he continues to do well. However, he has to take it easy for the next few weeks. No strenuous exercise, absolutely no stress, a light diet ...” His voice continued, but I quit listening.

  Zeke and I shouldn’t go back to Aunt Liza’s — not until Uncle Howard recovered completely. I was sure Aunt Liza would insist if I mentioned it. Could I afford to stay in a hotel for a couple of weeks? Perhaps the army had a place we could stay on base, but I hated the thought of that.

  I pulled Marla aside. “I’m going to talk to the doctor at Fort Benning tomorrow and see if he’ll release Zeke early. Dr. Burch can see to his recovery and conduct any tests at Andalusia.”

  “Do you think he’ll have access to the latest equipment that they have at Fort Benning? This is probably the best place for Zeke.”

  I shook my head. “Marla, I can’t add to Aunt Liza’s burden.”

  Marla became thoughtful. “Let me talk to Uncle Matthew. I’m sure he won’t mind if you stay there.”

  “I can’t impose on his hospitality —”

  “I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

  “Marla ...”

  “Jay, please let me do this for you.”

  I shook my head at her. “I don’t want to stay away from J.C. I miss him already.”

  “No matter what you decide, I’ll still talk to Uncle Matthew. And you’re going home with me when we leave here, to spend the night.”

  “So you can persuade me to stay longer? I know you so well,” I said.

  She laughed quietly. “You just think you do.”

  The doctor walked away, and Aunt Liza gestured to us. “He said we can go in to see him.”

  I caught her arm. “Do you want me to stay with him? You can go home and get a good night’s sleep.”

  She placed a gentle hand on my face. “You’re exhausted, Jay. You go on to the house and get some rest. Besides, I couldn’t leave him.”

  “Actually, Marla asked me to spend the night at Mr. Drake’s.”

  Aunt Liza’s eyebrows rose, and I hastened to explain.

  “You know Matthew Drake, Dan’s uncle? Marla is going to be working for him.”

  “Oh. All right then. You don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  Marla had already gone to the pay phones to call Mr. Drake, to tell him she was bringing a guest. Aunt Liza pushed open the door and went in, me on her heels.

  I spoke briefly to Uncle Howard, who barely glanced at me. His bleary eyes stayed focused on Aunt Liza. I left, not wanting to tire him further and knowing he only wanted his wife’s company.

  After stopping by Aunt Liza’s to grab my suitcase, I followed Marla to Mr. Drake’s. A long fence of brick and wrought iron partially shielded the view of the house from the road. It was a mansion, really, larger than any house I had ever seen. Marla pulled in the back drive, so I was disappointed that I got only a glimpse of the wide porch that extended to both sides of the house. Large columns supported the smooth metallic roof, made of some silvery material, not tin. Tin was too thin for roofing purposes, at least for a house like this. Rounded extensions on either side of the front porch held enormous tables, made of what looked like white marble. I hoped I would have a chance to get a better look later.

  The back was almost as grand as the front had looked, however. We entered the house through a porch area that was completely glassed in. Wicker furniture held puffy cushions in a subdued print. Large plants rose to the ceiling. The floor was an elegant dark gray tile, and the wallpaper a subdued print of mostly grays with touches of yellows and golds. I followed Marla through into a wide hallway — wide enough to drive a car through if it had been open to the outside. I easily identified the kitchen on the right because of the delicious smells coming from it.

  Marla paused and stuck her head in the kitchen door, speaking to the cook. “I brought a friend home. She’ll be spending the night.”

  The reply didn’t reach my ears. Marla turned to me and whispered. “I wanted to be sure she knew. Matthew sometimes forgets to relay messages.” Her voice rose to a normal level. “He’s probably in the library.”

  My heart quickened at her words, and a smile came to my lips. A library! I’d always secretly wanted my own library, ever since I had kept my copy of David Copperfield stuck beneath my corn-shuck mattress.

  The library was across from the music room where I had once sat with Michael. The heavy oak pocket doors were closed to both rooms, and Marla knocked briskly on the library’s.

  “Uncle Matthew is a little hard of hearing,” she confided in me. She opened the doors without waiting for Mr. Drake’s response. I followed her in, feeling awed by the huge room. Leather-bound books filled bookcases made from a wood I didn’t recognize. The bookcases rose to the ceiling on two of the walls. The outer wall held a huge fireplace with windows and built-in seats on either side. The same dark brown stone as the fireplace formed the seats, which were topped with plush cushions and pillows.

  Dark paneling, the same swirled wood as the bookcases, with a beautiful patina, lined what little wall space was left. Mr. Drake sat at a small, ornate desk. He surprised me when he rose from his leather chair with little effort and walked toward us, beaming. I was even more surprised when he wrapped his arms around Marla and kissed her cheek. She stepped to one side, her arm still linked with his, and indicated me.

  “Uncle Matthew, this is Jay. Remember I told you about her?”

  He slid his free hand over his full head of hair, white at the temples. “How could I forget? Marla and your husband have both told me so many stories. It’s nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Hutchinson.”

  His words startled me, and it took me a moment to remember Michael had stayed here. Yet, I couldn’t imagine him talking to this strange man about me, nor could I think of anything Marla may have discussed. I looked at her, questioning, but she returned my look coolly. I forced a smile, and he released Marla to grasp my hand with both of his clammy ones. This man gave me the creeps, no matter how much Marla liked him. His lanky physique, his sunken cheeks, and his watchf
ul eyes unnerved me. He neither looked like Dan nor Dan’s father. I wondered if perhaps they were even related.

  When I realized I was staring, I moved to the bookcases to run my fingers along the books’ spines, noticing they had been well read. The classics were there, the ones I enjoyed so much. I stopped at my favorite, David Copperfield. I pulled it off the shelf and opened it.

  “Do you like reading, Jay?”

  The question pulled me back to the present. I had instantly gotten caught up in the books and had almost forgotten where I was. I turned the question over, pondering it. It was true that I had once loved reading, but lately I never had the time. As soon as I got in from work, I had supper to prepare, the mess Momma made to clean up, James Colton to tend to. And I tried to do laundry on Saturdays, but often didn’t have the time if I was called to a farm. On those weeks, either the laundry piled up, or I’d squeeze it into the middle of the next week.

  I longed for a washing machine. Of course, they were too expensive. I still had a ways to go before paying off the farm. I wasn’t going to squander my money on something unless it was absolutely necessary. I blinked. “Yes, sir. I do like to read. I don’t have much time for it.” I snapped the book shut and replaced it on the shelf.

  He moved closer to me, too close, his breath hot on my neck. “Go ahead. Take it with you. You’ll need something to read at the hospital.”

  I moved away. “I’ve read that one.” Where had I put my old copy of David Copperfield? I knew I hadn’t thrown it away. I’d have to look for it when I got home.

  Mr. Drake waved his arms around. “Take your pick. I’m sure you’re bound to find one you haven’t read.”

  “Thank you. I’ll look later.” When you’re not around. I heard a bell and peeked about, expecting to see a telephone.

  “Ah, the dinner bell. Ready for supper?”

  Marla took his arm, and he held his other arm out for me. I frowned but had no choice but to take it. Marla had left the doors spread open, and we three passed easily into the hallway and continued toward the dining room.

  Grace came bouncing down the back staircase, slowing down when she saw us.

  Marla smiled at her sister. “You’re just in time.”

  Grace regarded her sister without responding. Instead, she turned to me. “Jay! I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  I gave her a warm smile, genuinely glad to see her. I sobered as I told her, “My Uncle Howard had a heart attack and is in the hospital. My aunt’s staying with him.”

  “Is he going to be all right?” She had pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, and for a moment, she looked more like Marla than ever, her face radiating concern.

  “We don’t know, but he says he feels stronger.”

  Entering the dining room, I gazed at my surrounding, my eyes settling on the fireplace. The mantle was ornately carved, and the trim was of marble streaked with golds and greens. I resisted the urge to move toward it and instead turned my attention to the table.

  Marla was acting as hostess. “Jay, you sit to Uncle Matthew’s right. Grace can sit beside you.”

  I was thankful for that. Perhaps I could leave “Uncle Matthew” to Marla and chat with Grace. We took our seats. The table gleamed from the light of the candles lining its center. The lights in the chandelier overhead were dimmed.

  I half expected a servant to come out to serve us. However, platters of food were already there, and we helped ourselves. Grace asked about Zeke, and I asked her about their move to Plainsville. She was enthusiastic to be returning to her old school. I suppose she’d had her fill of being the outcast down home.

  Uncle Matthew proved to be less repulsive to me here at the dining table, acting as the perfect host, politely passing around the food. This was Southern cooking but with a twist I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It wasn’t until we had finished that I found out why.

  Uncle Matthew patted his lips with his napkin and smiled at me. “How did you like your dinner?”

  “It was delicious.”

  “I’ll have to tell my French chef you enjoyed it.”

  “You have a French chef?” I tried not to sound impressed. This was Dan’s uncle! Dan I had known forever, and his uncle was this rich. Sure, Dan’s father had a large farm and a nice house, and I thought he was rich. He had been one of the richest men in our county. But his house looked like a shanty next to this one. And to have a French chef? It was difficult to imagine.

  I threw Mr. Drake what I hoped was a surreptitious peek, wondering how he had made his fortune. I’d have to ask Marla later.

  I was dead on my feet, and it was with relief that I followed Marla upstairs to my room immediately following supper. I had my own private bathroom. Marla wished me goodnight, and the beauty of the room barely registered as I changed and fell into bed.

  Chapter 7—The Accident

  The next morning, I awoke with a start, wondering where I was for a second. When I recognized my surroundings, Zeke was the first to come to mind and then Uncle Howard. I jumped out of bed to take a quick bath. I longed to soak in the clawed-foot tub, but I needed to check on Uncle Howard before I drove up to Fort Benning.

  I pulled open the curtains in the bedroom, curious to see the view. A large garden sat immediately below, with farmland extending beyond as far as I could see. The tractors cultivating the land made me long for my own farm.

  I hurried out and down the stairs, as if my hurrying could speed up Zeke’s release. I found the dining room without much trouble. Marla was there, but there was no sign of Grace or Uncle Matthew. I blinked at my watch. Nine o’clock already!

  “Marla, I’ve overslept. I’ve got to get going.” There was a hint of censure in my voice.

  “I knew you needed your rest. Surely you have time for breakfast?”

  “I’ll eat in the cafeteria at the hospital.”

  The phone rang — even the dining room had a phone in it, discreetly hidden behind a screen. Marla held up a finger for me to wait and ducked behind the screen to answer.

  Marla’s response to the person on the other end of the line caught my attention. Her voice was calm and cool as always, yet it gave me chills.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  There was silence for a few moments, and then Marla spoke again. “I’ll tell her. Right away. She’s here with me.”

  “Tell me what?” I crossed the room to take the phone, but she was already hanging up. She took me by the shoulders and surveyed me, scaring me with her look.

  “What is it, Marla? Zeke? Uncle Howard?”

  “Neither one. Try to stay calm. There’s been an accident ...”

  “Who?”

  “J.C. But he’s okay. He’s in the Andalusia hospital —” I tried to pull away, but she didn’t loosen her grip. “Wait. Let me tell you.”

  I took a deep, steadying breath and tried to brace myself. “So tell me.”

  “Laurie took the boys outside. They were playing, and she was hanging up clothes. Joe Joe found the axe left at the woodpile ...”

  Fear was strangling me. I took a deep breath and willed myself to listen. My hands were holding onto her now, as if I were drowning, gasping for breath.

  “He was trying to cut a twig in half when J.C. reached to pick it up. He came down on J.C.’s hand, but it only caught his thumb. Laurie grabbed him and took him immediately to Dr. Burch, who sewed it up. They’re not sure ... he could lose his thumb, or at least, the full use of it.”

  I nodded, but the words barely made sense to me. “I’ve got to go.”

  “I’ll see about Zeke.”

  Zeke! I couldn’t leave Zeke — but what choice did I have? I finally managed to speak. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You’re not asking. I’m telling.”

  I gave her a brief hug. “Thank you.” I ran upstairs to retrieve my bag, and then I was out the door. Marla followed on my heels.

  “Don’t worry about Zeke. I’ll take good care of him.”

 
I was too distracted to respond.

  “Drive carefully. I don’t want to visit you in the hospital.”

  I only nodded as I cranked the truck. I ignored Marla’s warning. If I wrecked, I wrecked. I had to see my baby, make sure with my own eyes that he was okay. I pushed the old truck to its limit, and it shuddered and shimmied its protest as I drove straight to Andalusia Hospital. I made the two-hour drive in a little over an hour.

  Uncle Colt was waiting outside on the verandah — the same verandah where Momma had sat the night Poppa had died. Had that really been ten years ago? I remembered it as vividly as if it had happened yesterday.

  Uncle Colt met me on the steps, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Jay.”

  “Where is he? Is he —” For a heart-stopping moment, I thought he meant J.C. was dead.

  “He’s okay. He’s been asking for you. I’ll take you to him. Laurie’s in a fix. She blames herself.”

  “Accidents happen. I’m not upset with her.” I had settled the matter in my mind on the drive. Our own axe was out at our woodpile. As soon as I got home, I’d make sure it was safely put away. Nevertheless, no matter how careful I might be, accidents would happen. J.C. had already had his share, tumbling down steps, being stepped on by one of Uncle Colt’s cows, and now this. It was part of life. No one could live in a padded room to avoid injury. No place on earth could ever be one hundred percent safe.

  We walked upstairs and stopped outside a door. Uncle Colt rapped on it and then opened it. J.C. was in a hospital crib with iron bars all the way around. His little face looked so pitiful on the pillow. He slept, his face contorted with pain even in sleep. His right hand was completely bandaged.

  Aunt Jenny rose from the chair and gave me a hug. “They let me stay in here with him,” she whispered.

  I longed to wake him, to take him in my arms, to make sure he was okay, but I refrained, contenting myself with touching his cheek. Aunt Jenny and I stood, our arms linked, looking down at him for a very long time until she gave a little tug. “Let’s go in the hallway so we can talk.”