Fading Thunder

by Sheila Hollinghead

  “I know. It’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

  I nodded, settling back. “How’s Zeke?”

  “He’s fine, already walking the halls and more than ready to be released. The doctor said a couple more days if he continues to do well.”

  “Good. He won’t have to stay a full week, then. Maybe it would be best if he did. I don’t want him to have to go back by getting out too early.” I licked my lips, probably removing my last trace of lipstick.

  “He’ll be fine. We’ll make sure he takes it easy.” She flashed her perfectly straight teeth.

  “We?”

  “Of course, we. Aren’t you bringing him to Matthew’s house?”

  I frowned at her a moment, but if she noticed, she gave no indication. I raised my eyebrows when she finally glanced my way. “Matthew?”

  She smiled, her lips pressed together, making her look sheepish. “He asked me to call him that, said uncle made him feel old.”

  I shook my head at her. She was as bad as Sylvia, flirting with someone who could be her father. He had to be close to fifty! I stared out the window. Just because she was on a first name basis didn’t mean she was flirting. And she was still married to Dan — surely she wouldn’t do anything inappropriate.

  She interrupted my thoughts, casting me an inquiring look. “So, Michael’s back?”

  “Yes, he’s back.” I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. I wanted to talk to her about the problems in my marriage, but it wouldn’t be fair to Michael. He had been gone for so long and had returned to a chaotic situation. Perhaps he had overreacted ... and maybe I had also. Perhaps I had been too harsh, expected too much. Surely, given time, Michael would adjust.

  She glanced at me again, yet didn’t ask any questions — like, why I would leave my husband after he had only been home a couple of days. Instead she gestured to my arm. “What happened?”

  “Mean doggie bit Momma,” J.C. said from the back.

  “One of your patients? It wasn’t Killer, was it?”

  “No, not Killer. Michael brought home a dog.”

  “Awgos,” J.C. said.

  “Yes, Argos.” I smiled indulgently at my son.

  Marla’s eyes brightened, and she shot me a sideways look. “The Odyssey!”

  “What?” I was confused, not sure what The Odyssey had to do Michael’s dog.

  She shook her hair back from her face, looking young and carefree. “Argos was the dog of Odysseus. He was the only one who recognized his master when he returned home from the Trojan War. Right after the dog greeted him, he died.”

  “Who? Odysseus or the dog?”

  “Don’t you remember reading it? Oh, wait. You skipped the last grade and went on to college. You weren’t there. Anyway, when Odysseus comes home, he doesn’t come back to a hero’s welcome. No one recognizes him. But he proves who he is, cleans house, so to speak, by killing his wife’s suitors.”

  “If Mr. Drake has the book in his library, I’d like to read it.”

  “I’m sure he does. He has almost every book imaginable. Anyway, I interrupted you. What were you saying? Michael brought back a war dog?”

  “Yes. Remember that day when we had the picnic and I read Michael’s letter? Argos is the one who was wounded, and Michael nursed him back to health. The dog returned to duty and saved countless lives.” Michael’s for one. He would not have survived the war without Argos, which made me slightly ashamed of all that had happened. Argos’s scars made my heart ache for him, but his snarling demeanor meant I couldn’t trust him. Because of his time at war and all he had been through, he’d become unpredictable. I could not have him around my family.

  “Wow. Sounds like a real war hero you have in your midst.” She cocked her head in my direction.

  “I guess he is. Anyway, he attacked Coby, and I got between them.”

  “Jay, you of all people should have known better! Even I know you don’t go near fighting dogs.”

  I grimly nodded. “How many times have I told people that?” I looked at my arm in its sling, raised my head, and stared out the window. I was justified in what I had done. “He’s a military dog, trained to kill. I couldn’t let him kill Coby.”

  “Of course not,” Marla said soothingly.

  I needed to change the subject. “I planned to stay with Aunt Liza —” I was sure I had told Marla that when I had called.

  “You’ll be more comfortable at Matthew’s, and with your uncle released only yesterday, it might be difficult for your aunt.”

  “Maybe ... but she begged me to stay when I called.”

  “How will you get to the hospital to visit Zeke?” She sent another swift look in my direction before her eyes went back to the road. “And someone will have to watch J.C.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe Uncle Howard is well enough that Aunt Liza will be able to drive me. Would you mind watching J.C. when I visit Zeke?”

  “As a matter of fact, Grace is still at Matthew’s. I’m sure she would enjoy babysitting J.C. That way I can drive you.”

  “That would be a lot to ask.”

  “My days are mostly free. I don’t mind, and I’m sure Grace would be happy to help out.”

  “After I visit with Aunt Liza, I’ll let you know.” Somehow, in my muddled mind, I had planned to help Aunt Liza. But how much help would I be with my right arm in a sling? Maybe Marla’s way made more sense.

  “You want to stop at your aunt’s first?”

  “Yes. That would be best. I need to check on Uncle Howard. Have you seen them since I left?”

  “Not since he came home from the hospital. However, I’ve called. Your aunt sounded worried.”

  I had barely spared Uncle Howard a thought, with all that had gone on. Now I was anxious to see him, to make sure he was okay.

  Marla reached over to me without looking, touching my arm lightly. “I need to tell you something ... so you won’t be surprised.”

  “What?”

  “Dan’s here.”

  “In Plainsville?”

  “Yes. At Matthew’s house.”

  “Y’all have worked out your differences then? You’re back together?”

  “Not exactly. You know the house is huge — fifteen bedrooms. Dan is living there, but I haven’t seen much of him.”

  “Oh.” It was all I could think to say.

  She let out a small sigh that turned into an audible sound, halfway between a laugh and a moan. “That man! I told him things would not work out between us. He just won’t give up.”

  “Sounds like the Dan I know.” I cleared my throat. “Michael told me Dan was Joe Joe’s father.”

  Her expression became guarded; her eyes narrowed. “Dan denies it.”

  “He does? But he told Michael he was, when his father was dying. He said he would tell you when things settled down.” We had discussed this at the hospital, but I couldn’t remember what Marla had said.

  “I suppose he decided he was not the father after all.”

  How could Dan be so stubborn? If he would just admit he was the father — Marla knew what Sylvia was like. Surely she wouldn’t blame it all on Dan. “But he has to be.”

  She shook her curls. “No, I believe him. He’s not Joe Joe’s father.”

  My mouth gaped open for a second as she pulled into Aunt Liza’s yard.

  If she believed Dan, why were they having problems?

  I didn’t have time to ask. Aunt Liza came out on the porch, and I swung open my door, anxious to see how Uncle Howard was doing.

  Chapter 13—Aunt Liza

  Aunt Liza pushed open the screen door, ushering us in, giving everyone hugs.

  I was shocked at Uncle Howard’s appearance. In just the short time I had been gone, his cheeks had sunken. He’d lost weight and gained a hundred wrinkles. He didn’t rise from his chair next to the radio. He only grunted a greeting and asked if we wanted to listen to a program. He switched it on without waiting for a response.

  J.C. was soon entranced with the vo
ice coming through the speakers. Aunt Liza spoke quietly, asking about the family and shooting worried glances in Uncle Howard’s direction. He had closed his eyes and was breathing evenly, as if in sleep.

  Delicious smells emanated from the kitchen, making my stomach growl. Aunt Liza made a slight motion of her head. After she rose, I spoke to Marla, telling her that I needed a glass of water. I got to my feet quietly and followed my aunt.

  She was already seated at the table and indicated the coffeepot on the stove with a weary wave of her hand. Dark circles lined her turquoise eyes, the eyes people said were so much like my own. She had the same dark hair I did, although it appeared to have more gray streaks than the last time I had seen her. Of course, that might be my imagination.

  I poured both of us a cup and joined her. The kitchen table was loaded with food, and pots of dumplings and field peas simmered on the stove. Judging from the smell, cornbread and sweet potato dumplings cooked in the oven, too.

  Aunt Liza didn’t speak for a bit, blowing over the surface of her coffee and taking small sips. She placed the cup back in the saucer with a clatter. “I’m a frazzle of nerves. Your uncle hasn’t eaten enough food to keep a parakeet alive since I brought him home.”

  Uncle Howard had always been on the chubby side. It was hard to imagine my good-natured uncle, who took such pleasure in life, not eating my aunt’s delicious cooking.

  Tears ran down Aunt Liza’s cheeks, constricting my heart. I patted her hand, wishing I could do more. “I’m sure he’ll get his appetite back soon.”

  “I know it will take time,” she said. “But it’s like he’s given up.”

  “Aunt Liza, do you think J.C. and I should stay here? I want to help out, as much as I can, but with my arm —”

  She stared, as if only now noticing it. “What happened?”

  “A dog bite.” Before she could ask more questions, I hurried on. “Marla wants me to stay at the Drake house. She said Grace could babysit while I visited with Zeke. What would you rather I do?”

  “Jay, you know you’re always welcome here.” She paused a moment, then sighed. “But with Howard’s mood, it might be best if you stay with Marla.” She surveyed me solemnly.

  “I’ll come by and see how y’all are doing, as much as I can. And I’ll call.”

  “How long will you be here?”

  “Three or four weeks.” I held my breath, afraid she’d ask why I was staying away from Michael for so long. Perhaps Aunt Jenny had already told her, or perhaps her own worries superseded any thoughts of Michael. For whatever reason, she didn’t ask, simply nodded her head.

  “Dinner smells delicious. Is the cornbread ready?” My nose detected it was on the verge of burning.

  She jumped to her feet. “My goodness! I’m glad you reminded me. Will you call the others? Dinner’s ready.”

  I hoped Marla didn’t mind staying. There was no way I was going to pass up some of my favorites, especially the sweet potato dumplings.

  Marla seemed happy to eat dinner there and took J.C. to wash up. I had to put an arm under Uncle Howard’s elbow, to help him to his feet.

  When we were settled at the table, I removed my arm from the sling so I could hold Uncle Howard’s hand on my right. On my left, I gently encircled J.C.’s wrist, being careful not to hurt his thumb. His other hand grasped Marla’s. Aunt Liza said the blessing instead of Uncle Howard. He had barely spoken two words since we had gotten there.

  Now, however, he spoke, his voice flat, as if he had no real interest in my response. “What happened to you?” He swung an empty fork in my direction.

  I looked down at my plate, securing a dumpling before I answered. “When I called, I told you Michael was at home?”

  Aunt Liza nodded. “I’m so glad he made it back safely. So many of our young men didn’t. Remember Andrew? He was killed on D-Day.”

  “Yes, I heard. Poor Anne.” Anne was a good friend, Andrew’s twin sister.

  Uncle Howard waved his fork again. “Your arm?” His voice was gruff.

  I turned my head to speak directly to him. “Michael brought back one of the military dogs. Coby and Argos got into a fight, and I tried to break it up. I got a bite for my troubles.”

  “You’re a durn fool.” His frown brought out more wrinkles in his face.

  I was startled at his words and tried to remember if he had ever said a cross word to me, but nothing came to mind. Having the heart attack had left him depressed and irritable. He took his first bite of food and chewed slowly, as if chewing was beyond his strength. The man he had been was gone.

  I touched his shoulder lightly to get his attention. “Uncle Howard, I want to thank you for being so kind to Zeke and me. The first day we were here, after Poppa died, you took Zeke and me out to your shop and told us a story I’ve never forgotten.”

  “What story, Jay?” Marla asked.

  “Do you remember, Uncle Howard?” I asked gently.

  He shook his head, not raising his eyes to mine.

  Aunt Liza gave an encouraging nod. “Why don’t you tell us the story, Jay?”

  “I’m sure Uncle Howard can tell it better than I can.” He didn’t respond, so I continued. “He told Zeke and me that two frogs fell into a bucket of milk. One gave up and drowned, but the other kept swimming until the milk churned into buttermilk. The one that kept swimming climbed on the butter and hopped out of the pail. He said we just have to keep swimming, keep our heads about water — at least, above milk.” Uncle Howard finally raised his watery eyes to mine and managed a weak smile.

  “And don’t get stuck in the butter,” J.C. said.

  We laughed. Uncle Howard took a bite of his fried chicken. J.C. spooned up peas, getting pretty good at using his left hand. Everything was delicious, and I was ready to pop by the time dinner was over.

  Aunt Liza rose from the table, going to the icebox. “Who’s ready for dessert?” She pulled out a banana pudding, and I groaned.

  I shook my head at her. “Aunt Liza, why didn’t you tell me? I would have saved room.”

  Uncle Howard laughed, along with the others. Despite what I said, I helped put a dent in the pudding.

  Marla and I helped Aunt Liza clean the kitchen, with me clearing the table with my left hand.

  Uncle Howard had taken J.C. back to the sitting room. I found them having a serious talk when I entered the room, J.C. on his knee.

  “I hate to eat and run, but I wanted to visit with Zeke.” I gave Uncle Howard a big hug and told him I loved him before we left.

  Aunt Liza walked to the car with us. “I’m glad y’all came. It did Howard a world of good.” After a few more words, with promises to call the next day, I gave her a hug and slid into the Cadillac.

  Marla turned on the air conditioner, and the cool air dissipated my worries. I was going to be the frog, swimming around and around until I churned up a whole mess of butter.

  And maybe Uncle Howard had decided to swim also.

  Chapter 14—The News

  Marla and I dropped J.C. at the Drake house, leaving Grace in charge. Then we made a brief visit with Zeke. He was restless, and the young boy next to him had been replaced by an older boy whose face was sullen.

  Marla had borrowed a couple of books from Mr. Drake’s library — a thoughtful gesture, but I didn’t know if Zeke would be interested in reading either one. The first was Treasure Island and the other, The Hobbit, a book I’d never heard of. The Hobbit looked like a young child’s book, but maybe it would distract Zeke for a while.

  We stayed only a few minutes. I was uneasy leaving J.C. for any length of time, especially with Grace, who was an inexperienced babysitter. However, we returned to a peaceful house. They were in the radio room, and J.C. was in Grace’s lap, sound asleep. After I told Marla goodnight, I followed Grace upstairs while she carried J.C. for me. Once she laid him on the bed, I thanked her and bid her a goodnight. It had been a long day, and I was ready for the soft bed I was to share with J.C. We both slept soundly.

>   J.C. woke first and had his hand on my cheek as I struggled to awaken. “Momma?”

  I tried to shake away the dark dream I had been having. I smiled into his beautiful face, so much like Michael’s. “Ready to get up?” I asked.

  He nodded, and I slid to the side of the bed and dangled my feet over the edge. The mattresses were so high that my feet didn’t touch the floor. I stretched, and as I did, J.C. climbed on my back.

  “Horsy ride?” I asked. He nodded and leaned around to kiss my cheek. I grabbed his legs and stood, only then remembering my hurt arm. I shifted his weight to relieve the pressure and adjusted my grip with my left hand. He was getting heavy.

  I carried him to the attached bathroom and gave him a bath. Then I unpacked the suitcase, glad I had remembered to bring his favorite toys. After I dressed him, I left him in the bedroom to play while I got ready.

  We then headed down the stairs. Sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, promising another hot day.

  Marla was in the library with Mr. Drake. She immediately jumped to her feet and met me at the opened pocket doors. “You’re up. I peeked in a bit ago, and you were both sleeping soundly.”

  Mr. Drake stood at the bookcase, a book in hand. He nodded at me. “Good morning, Jay.”

  “I’m sorry to impose on your hospitality again, sir.”

  He waved a hand, and his smile seemed sincere. “Nonsense. I have plenty of room. Marla tells me you wanted to read The Odyssey.” He held the book out, and I took it from him, running my hand over the embossed leather cover.

  I clutched the book to my chest and smiled. “Thank you, sir. That’s very kind of you. Do you mind if I use your phone? It’s a local call.”

  He made the same gesture again, a welcoming, expansive movement. “Feel free to use it any time. Make yourself at home.”

  Marla had taken charge of J.C., and I went into the nook to call Aunt Liza. A strange voice answered her phone. “Barnett residence.”

  I hesitated a moment. “May I speak to Elizabeth Barnett?”

  “I’m sorry. She can’t come to the phone right now.”