Fading Thunder

by Sheila Hollinghead

  He hugged me back and then held me at a distance, surveying me. “Are you feeling any better?”

  “A little.”

  “We’ll need to keep Coby away from Argos’s pen.”

  “All right. I’ll make sure to keep him close by.”

  “We’ll work with them, get them used to each other ...”

  I nodded my head. “Michael, where did you put the axe? I need to cook breakfast ...”

  “Lunch is more like it. It’s almost eleven.”

  “Eleven?” I looked into the sky at the sun that had climbed almost overhead. “I had no idea I slept that long.” James Colton had his arm around my leg, and I placed my hand on his head.

  “You were exhausted. I want you to do what Dr. Burch told you. Get plenty of rest; take care of yourself.”

  I nodded, my heart feeling weightless, lifting away my nausea.

  “I’ll go cut some lighter.” He started to move away and then turned back. “Don’t you think it’s time we did a little shopping? Now that we have electricity, we can buy an electric stove. It’ll make life a lot easier.”

  “We can’t afford it.” Neither one of us had worked for over a month. Michael received a small check, but it was barely enough to survive on.

  He stared into the distance for a second and then refocused on me. “It’s time we got back to a normal life.”

  “Whatever that is,” I interjected.

  “I’ll go visit Dr. Driscoll today, find out what he says about taking me on.”

  “He wants us to call him Wilbur. And I’ll go with you. I’m ready to get back.”

  His forehead furrowed. “You’re too sick to work.”

  “I’m not going to let a little morning sickness stop me from doing my job.”

  He sighed heavily and moved away. “Let’s not argue. Not today. I’ll go cut some wood.”

  When he was out of sight, I knelt beside James Colton. Coby nudged between us, and I had to give him some pats and hugs before pushing him aside. I focused on my son, knowing it was important to get my words right. Michael was making an effort, and I would too. He was right — we had to become a normal family, somehow.

  I smiled at my son. “Daddy was so kind to bring Coby home, wasn’t he?”

  James Colton shook his dark head. “Daddy mean. He made Laurie cry.”

  “He’s sorry. Sometimes we do things that we don’t mean to do. We love Daddy, and Daddy loves us so much.”

  James Colton nodded but didn’t speak.

  “Daddy has been very brave, fighting bad men. He did that for you.” I poked a finger in his tummy, making him giggle. “And for me.”

  He nodded again. I caught sight of Laurie coming down the red clay road, the dust flying. I climbed to my feet and met her at the edge of the yard.

  She looked over my shoulder, toward the truck. “I see Michael’s back. I’d better not go in.”

  James Colton tugged at her hand. “Daddy sorry, Laurie.”

  She smiled and ruffled James Colton’s hair. “I’d best be getting home anyway.” She handed me the basket.

  I wanted to ask her to stay but didn’t know if Michael had truly forgiven her. I thanked her and gave her a hug.

  She whispered in my ear. “Still want to hear what was going on with Dan yesterday.”

  “Soon,” I promised.

  She left.

  I was going to have to get a move on. “Come on, James Colton.”

  We went in as Michael dropped his armload of wood into the box by the stove. He motioned to the basket. “What’s that?”

  “Laurie brought over some lemon juice. I need to make a lemon drink — it’ll help settle my stomach.”

  “I can do it. You go lie down. I’ll rustle up some lunch. What do you think you can eat?”

  “An egg ... over easy. Do we have any bread? If we do, maybe a piece of toast, or I can eat some crackers. I think Laurie brought some.” I placed the basket on the table and lifted out its contents — saltine crackers, peppermint candy, and the lemon juice.

  Michael took the items from my hands. “Go on while I do this. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

  “All right.” My legs trembled beneath me. I didn’t want another fainting spell. “James Colton, stay here with Daddy, okay?”

  He nodded his head, and I left them.

  But I couldn’t sleep. Instead, Dan’s words kept tumbling around in my mind, never making sense. Marla was sending Sylvia money ... but why? William was Joe Joe’s father, not Dan as I had so long believed.

  Lying down only made the dizziness increase, so I scooted up in the bed and leaned against the headboard. I pictured Joe Joe in my mind, trying now to see him as William’s son. Perhaps there was a little resemblance. I would confront William and hear what he had to say. He might say it was none of my business, but Sylvia had made it my business.

  I swung my legs off the bed, stood slowly, and made my way to the kitchen. Michael was flipping the egg perfectly and turned to grin at James Colton before catching sight of me.

  “I thought you were going to rest.”

  I swung a hand up, dismissively. “I’ve got too many things on my mind.”

  James Colton was sitting at the table, his head on his arms, keeping an eye on Michael.

  “Is the water hot? I’ll make my drink.”

  “I made a fresh pot of coffee.”

  I gagged when he picked up the pot and poured a cup. His eyebrows rose. “What? You’ve quit drinking coffee?”

  “It makes me sick when I’m pregnant.”

  “Will it bother you if I drink it?”

  “Not as long as you keep it downwind.” I attempted a smile.

  He didn’t answer, simply poured me a cup of hot water and placed it on the table. He retrieved the toast from the oven and finished up the eggs. I made my drink and poured James Colton a glass of milk, joining him at the table. A peace settled over me, more peaceful than I had felt since that morning when Zeke had doubled over in this very kitchen. It had only been a few weeks ago but felt as if it had been another place long, long ago.

  Michael wanted to buy an electric stove, but I loved my kitchen just the way it was. The pine floors, full of knots and dents and darkened with age, the handmade chairs and table crafted by my father, the old black wood stove, perched on rock slabs Poppa had brought up from the creek, and the lantern hanging on a hook above the sink — all of it I adored and cherished, mainly because it reminded me of Poppa.

  Michael had taken a seat with us, and he began to eat without saying the blessing. I decided not to push it, saying a quick prayer to myself. I took small bites of the egg, chewing slowly, chasing it with the lemon drink, willing it to stay down. The burnt place on the table from Dan’s negligence, the place I had tried to sand away, was in front of me, and I touched it, thinking of all that had happened.

  I had not eaten anything since lunch yesterday. I set my fork down to let the food settle and cleared my throat, glancing at Michael. “I want to keep my stove.”

  “Why? And isn’t it your momma’s stove?” His eyes observed me solemnly.

  “Yes, but it’s mine now. Poppa brought those rock slabs up from the creek.”

  He looked at the stones and shrugged. “I’m sure we can place the new stove on top of them, if you want to keep them.”

  “But it won’t be the same.”

  “Jay, you can’t live in the past forever.”

  I didn’t answer, concentrating on getting down the last bit of egg.

  Michael sopped up his egg yolk with his toast and popped it in his mouth, then stood and picked up his plate. “I’m going outside to shave before we go to town. Do you have a mirror I can use?” He placed his plate in the sink and turned to face me. “An inside bathroom would be nice — unless you prefer the outhouse?” His voice was teasing.

  “An inside bathroom sounds great ... if we can afford it.”

  “Jay, we’re not paupers — at least, I don’t think we are. I se
nt most of my paycheck to you each month. It doesn’t look like you’ve spent much money since I’ve been gone.”

  “No, but we still have to pay off the farm.”

  “I’ll look over the bills when we get back from seeing Dr. Driscoll. It’s something I already should have done. Anyway, if we both go to work, we should be able to buy a stove and build on a bathroom. And you need a car.”

  “Michael!” My eyes widened, and I made an effort not to wring my hands together. “We cannot afford all of that.”

  “We can get an old car, nothing fancy.”

  “But what if we have another Depression?”

  “That’s not likely to happen. Businesses are booming. We’ll be fine.”

  I pressed my lips together and didn’t answer. I would go along with the bathroom — I was sure Michael could do most of the work. But we simply could not afford a stove or another vehicle. We could both use his truck. But I wasn’t going to argue, not today. We’d sort it out later.

  Instead I changed the subject. “Are you okay with Laurie keeping James Colton?”

  “Can your aunt watch him instead?”

  I hesitated. “I can ask her.”

  “Good.”

  “You let Laurie watch him yesterday.”

  “A lot was going on yesterday. I’d feel better if your aunt kept him.”

  I nodded my head. Given time, maybe he’d come around. I folded my hands in my lap and straightened my shoulders. “Michael, there’s something else we need to discuss.”

  “What?”

  “Momma needs to come back home. She’s been at Aunt Jenny’s for several weeks now. We can’t keep imposing on them.”

  He sighed deeply. “All right. Can she stay away a few more days, until we get settled into a routine?”

  “I’ll ask Aunt Jenny. I’ll find you a mirror and then call her. Will you help James Colton wash up?”

  He nodded and went out, and I shooed James Colton out the door after him. I went in search of a mirror. Yep. An inside bathroom sounded heavenly. That was one thing I would not argue about.

  Chapter 23—Unshucked

  William answered when I called.

  “Is Aunt Jenny around?” I asked.

  “Hold on and I’ll get her.”

  “Wait ... I need to talk to you too.” But I couldn’t ask William on the phone. It was a party line and no telling who might be listening.

  “Sure. Whatcha need?” I could hear his even breathing on the other end of the line, waiting for me to speak.

  “Oh, never mind. I can’t talk now, but I’m going back to work tomorrow. If you’re not too busy, maybe you can come in and we can go to lunch?”

  “Sounds good. Probably won’t be able to make it until next week, though.”

  I was disappointed; impatient to hear what he had to say. “Well, as soon as you can.”

  “Okay. I’ll try to make it, if it’s that important.”

  He turned the phone over to Aunt Jenny. She agreed to watch James Colton and told me Momma was welcome to stay as long as we needed her to. I heard Uncle Colt snort in the background, and her muffled admonishment.

  “Don’t pay any attention to Colt,” she said. “Jay, your momma wants to ask you about Zeke.”

  “When we pick up James Colton, I’ll come in and talk to her. How is Zeke?”

  “He’s fine. And why not just eat supper with us?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to ask Michael. I’ll let you know when we drop off James Colton.”

  “All right. See you then.”

  “Bye.”

  I hung up but stayed still, thoughtful for a moment. If we stayed for supper, maybe I could get William alone and drag the truth from him. And I was going to take a good look at Joe Joe. If he was William’s son, surely I’d be able to tell. I hurried to get ready; more than half the day was already gone.

  We dropped off our son, promising to return for supper, and continued into town. Wilbur surprised me when he gave me a hug, his breathing raspy in my ear. The smoke from his ever-present cigar brought bile to my throat. He released me and shook Michael’s hand, thanking him for his service to our country. When he turned back to me, I guessed he saw I had turned green, for he snuffed out his cigar in the overflowing ashtray on his desk.

  “Looks like congratulations are in order. Fast work, Mike.” He slapped Michael on the back.

  I shook my head at Michael, afraid of what he might say, before I spoke to Wilbur. “Those cigars have to go.” I was admonishing him for his sake as well as my own. “Can we go out back?”

  I wanted to be away from all the stomach-churning smells. The office had reverted to its old personality — mail, catalogs, assorted medicines, and supplies piled willy-nilly on every surface.

  Wilbur led the way, huffing and puffing down the few steps. Behind him, Michael whispered in my ear. “How does he know you’re pregnant?”

  “We’ll discuss it later,” I whispered back.

  There were no animals at present. We settled on some bales of hay, even though I had on a dress and would have to pick bits and pieces off later. The earthy smells did not bother me. I looked around fondly.

  “How’s it feel to be home?” Wilbur asked Michael.

  Michael mumbled an answer that sounded like “fine.”

  I took the lead. “Michael and I are ready to get to work —”

  Wilbur nodded his head. “I’ve started to call you two or three times to tell you something. I’ve been to the doctor; got a bit of bad news. He’s insisting I retire.”

  “Oh, Wilbur!”

  “It could be worse. It’s emphysema.” He snorted. “He wants me to lose weight and give up cigars.”

  “Losing weight will be easier without all the stress of work,” I said. Michael was quiet, watching us, as wary as James Colton had been around him.

  Wilbur nodded toward my husband. “If you and Mike want to take over the business, I’ll be willing to sell, at a good price.”

  Michael finally spoke. “Get the papers drawn up, and we’ll look it over and let you know.”

  Wilbur gave me a sideways glance and then nodded. “And, Jay, I wanted to tell you ...” He hesitated a moment before blurting it out. “We were so swamped, I hired Velma back.”

  “Really? I didn’t see her when we came in.”

  “She left early.”

  Michael got to his feet. “We’ve got to go. We’ll be back in the morning.” He had my arm, tugging me up.

  I picked the hay from my clothes. “We’ll just go out the back way, Wilbur.”

  “It was good seeing you.” He looked forlorn, standing there with no cigar.

  “You too.” I touched his arm and followed Michael out the gate.

  Michael did not go to the truck but continued down the sidewalk. I hurried to catch up with him. “Where are you going?”

  “We need to buy you a car. There’s a used car lot on the next corner.”

  “I don’t need a car. We can ride to work together. Your old truck will do fine.”

  He glanced at me with eyes narrowed. “It’s not my truck.”

  I ignored his words, wiping the sweat from my forehead. “Can we stop in the drugstore and get something to drink?”

  He stopped walking to spare me a look and nodded. “I’m a bit hungry anyway.”

  We went into the drugstore where I had caught Sylvia with Uncle Aaron. After enduring the sweltering heat outside, it was a cool oasis. They not only had air conditioning but also had black metal fans that blew the cooled air into every corner.

  I slid into a booth, and Michael took the seat across from me. This was also the same drugstore Dan had taken me all those years ago, the first time I had tasted a milkshake. Dan was right. It seemed so long ago but also as if it were yesterday.

  “What are you thinking about?” Michael asked me.

  “I’m thinking about how nice and cool it is in here. And how much I want a Coke.”

  “You’re not hungry?”
>
  I shook my head.

  “You don’t want a shake or ice cream?”

  “No, just a Coke. It might settle my stomach.”

  “I’m going to get a hamburger, if it won’t bother you?”

  “It’s fine, but we’re going to eat supper with Aunt Jenny.”

  “I know, but that’s a couple of hours away.”

  A bored girl, a pencil stuck behind her ear, shuffled over to us. Michael gave our order, and she walked away without even a smile.

  I leaned forward. “Now, about that car. The truck will be fine.”

  “And what if you get called out to a farm while I’m out on a call?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know ... we can at least try to get by with just the truck until we find it’s necessary for work to invest in another vehicle. Your truck —”

  “It’s not my truck. My truck was destroyed and good riddance anyway. It was worn out and needed replacing. But you wouldn’t let go ... you had to find a truck similar to mine and pretend. Why?”

  “You know why.” I bit my lip and looked at my hands, folded on the table.

  He placed his hand on top of mine. “That truck was not me, not even a part of me.” He shook his head as if reprimanding a naughty child. “Listen ... have you ever considered that we’re like ears of corn?”

  “What do you mean?”

  The girl returned with our order, and he leaned back, moving his hand away.

  “This smells great.” He dug in, chewing slowly, savoring each bite. After a few moments, he wiped his chin and pressed his lips together, contemplating me. “Do you know how many nights I dreamed of a cheeseburger and fries?”

  I sipped my Coke, and waited for him to continue his thoughts. “Ears of corn?” I prompted.

  “Unshucked ears of corn. Jay, you see the outside, the shucks. You seldom have an idea of what lies within. And what’s strange —” He stopped to drag a fry through ketchup and popped it in his mouth. “What’s strange is you never even stop to wonder.”

  I considered what he said. “Maybe I do that, but the kernels still don’t give you the true picture. Beneath is the cob. Right?”

  “No. The kernels are the heart. The cob is just the body to be thrown away. The kernels are the seeds, destined for ... well, whatever the farmer chooses.”