Thunder's Shadow (In the Shadow of the Cedar Book 3)

by Sheila Hollinghead

  The old woman had given me the creeps. Yet, she hadn’t seemed evil, had she? Creepy, but not evil. Yet evil often came disguised, my preacher had said.

  I sighed. I just didn’t know. But it didn’t matter. Whether we married or not, Michael was leaving — for how long, I had no idea. To bear up, for even a day, seemed impossible. Perhaps I could join up, too. But there was no guarantee we would see each other, was there? He’d go one way and me another. We’d still be apart and far from home. I wanted to stay here, among the people I knew — my family and friends. Besides there was my little brother, Zeke. I never knew when Momma might have another breakdown, and he might need me. I couldn’t leave — not now.

  I shook my head and had to make a mad dash for the bus after being so caught up in my musings. I slid onto the cool leather seat, accidentally bumping into the person beside me. I apologized and shifted my body away, not wanting to talk further. The bus was filled with excited chatter, everyone giving their opinion on the impending war. But my thoughts concentrated on Michael, ignoring the stuffiness of the bus, packed full, more so than usual. Perhaps some of them were going to enlist today, like Michael.

  In a matter of days, Michael and I would be graduating from Auburn with degrees in Veterinary Science. I would be one of the first female graduates to become a veterinarian and had taken a heavier load each semester in order to graduate early, in the middle of the school year. Somehow I had managed straight As. With the extra work and our jobs, Michael and I had had very little time together for the past three years — except for studying together. We had wanted to begin our lives together as soon as possible and had worked hard to do so.

  Before then, Michael had been on the verge of flunking out. Working together, we had helped each other, encouraging one another to do our best. And now Michael would graduate almost at the top of his class, if he aced his finals, and that seemed likely. Who would have thought so three years ago?

  We had planned, after we married, to move back home, open a veterinary clinic together and buy back Poppa’s farm. Now, our dreams had been dashed — all of that extra work for what? I could have taken a normal load. We could have spent more time together, maybe even married, if we had only known.

  With our plans now postponed, unless Michael changed his mind, I’d have to stay on with Aunt Liza and Uncle Howard, maybe get on full time at Buck’s General Store. I could check with the veterinarians in the area — but what chance did a woman have of getting hired for a man’s job? Still, with all the guys enlisting, it might be worth a shot. I shook the thoughts from my head, knowing I’d have plenty of time to decide.

  The bus pulled to a stop, and I joined the rest of the people exiting. I continued on to my lab class, to the building at the top of the hill. I was one of only three women in Animal Physiology. When I entered the classroom, the nineteen male members were huddled together, talking animatedly, many of them smiling, until the professor entered. The women were already seated, and their faces were subdued, as I was sure mine was.

  Today we were to observe the anatomy of turtles. The other three people at my assigned table were guys. I sat down and opened my notebook to a clean page and copied the information from the blackboard as the professor called the class to order.

  I couldn’t focus, my mind still on Michael. For a moment, my anger turned to God. Why had he allowed this war and the bombing of Pearl Harbor? But it wasn’t God’s fault but evil men’s choices — particularly that one man, Hitler. His fanaticism was legendary. Yet, God was all powerful. Somehow, he could have prevented that man from coming to power, if he had chosen to do so. And he could have created a storm to turn back the Japanese, before they had a chance to bomb our men. Why hadn’t he?

  God’s ways were simply beyond my understanding. I pushed back a strand of hair that had come loose from my braid and tried to concentrate on the professor’s voice.

  The middle-age professor, his dark hair grayed at the temples, looked around at the tables. “I need a volunteer from each group to administer the anesthetic to the turtle. Any volunteers?”

  My hand shot up. I wanted to get my mind on something else, something besides the war and Michael.

  “Sarah Hunter for group two. Anyone else? If not, I will assign someone in each group.”

  I glanced around. Strange that no one else was volunteering. One of the boys, his hair slicked back, snickered. I stared at him. The smell from the Brylcreem made my nose wrinkle. The other two guys were grinning at me as well. What was going on? Had I missed something? Did I have a smudge on my face?

  The professor walked toward me with small medical hammers in his hand. When he handed me one, I stared at it blankly.

  I leaned closer to one of the guys and whispered. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  He stifled a laugh behind his hand. “That’s how you administer the general anesthetic. You hit the turtle in the head.” Laughter leaked out, and the professor, who was moving around the room, frowned at him.

  My mouth fell open. One of my lab partners lifted the turtle to the table. All three watched me, smiles playing on their faces.

  “I can’t do this,” I whispered, trying to hand the hammer to the guy on my left.

  He held his palm to me. “Yes, you can! You volunteered.”

  “Let’s go,” chimed in one of the others.

  I blinked in horror at the turtle and then at the men around me.

  The professor cleared his throat. “Miss Hunter, please proceed.”

  How could I inflict pain on this animal? I couldn’t do it. My hand fell to the black top of the table, and I released the hammer.

  The professor stood beside me. “Do any of you wish to do the job Miss Hunter seems incapable of?”

  I pleaded with my eyes, but not one of my lab partners answered.

  “Miss Hunter, either proceed or you will receive a zero for today’s lab.” His look softened. “You did volunteer. Next time listen more carefully before volunteering.”

  “Yes, sir.” I had to do this for my grade, no matter how much it pained me. I picked up the instrument of torture, squeezed my eyes shut, and blindly hammered in the direction of the turtle’s head, pounding as hard and as fast as I could. The sooner it was over with, the better for the poor turtle.

  I cringed when one of the guys touched my arm. I pried open one eye. “Is that enough?” Tears burned and threatened to fall.

  The three men had lost the smiles. One of them nodded at me. “Yes.”

  I breathed heavily for a moment, as if I had done an hour of manual labor and then threw the hammer down. I leaned back on the wooden stool as one of my lab partners made an incision along the bottom of the hard shell and pried it open. I felt nauseated but couldn’t give in to it. I picked up the probes and went to work identifying the organs. When I reached the still beating heart and the veins pulsating with blood, I paused.

  Michael would soon be facing something like this, only multiplied many, many times over. He potentially would be responsible for the deaths, not of a reptile, but of living human beings.

  I wrenched my gaze away. Class was not yet over, but I gathered my books and left, telling the professor I had a headache. And it wasn’t a lie

  Chapter 3—Sylvia

  After I left the class, I went to the restroom and scrubbed my hands until they were raw. Thinking the fresh air might help my headache, I went outside, but the cold drove me back in. It was lunchtime anyway. I made my way to the cafeteria and found an empty table in the corner. I glanced around but didn’t see anyone I knew. Michael wasn’t there, and I played with my food listlessly.

  “Sarah Jane!” Sylvia, her blonde hair shimmering, even in the dim light of the cafeteria, made her way toward me.

  My eyes widened. Why would she be speaking to me?

  “Sylvia.” I gave her a curt nod and kept my tone flat, hoping Michael’s ex-girlfriend would go away. Instead, she pulled out a chair and set her tray down.

  “Mind if I joi
n you?”

  “Well, I’m meeting someone...”

  She laid a hand on my arm and flashed a brilliant smile at me. “I know. Michael. You two will be tying the knot soon. Weddings are so exciting.”

  I cocked my head at her. Had she not heard we were going to war? Or was that just a trivial event to her? “Michael’s joining the Marines.”

  “Oh! How wonderful.” Sylvia brought her hands together. For a moment she looked as if she was going to burst out in applause. Her hands stilled but she still beamed. “That must mean you’ve moved the date up.”

  I didn’t answer. It was none of her business what we planned. What was she up to, anyway?

  Maybe if I kept silent, she’d take the hint and leave. My focus on her was so intent that I didn’t see Michael until he scraped a chair over the tiled floor.

  He kissed my cheek and nodded at Sylvia, his eyes returning to mine, questioning. I shrugged.

  He had not gotten a tray. “You’re not eating?” I asked.

  He smiled at me, his look brightening. “No, I ate downtown, with a couple of buddies. You should have seen the line at the recruitment office. It wound around the block.”

  “Oh, isn’t that great,” Sylvia said.

  Michael gave her a curt nod.

  I forced a smile and glanced at her. “Yes, that’s good. I’m glad there are so many willing to defend our country.”

  Michael stared at Sylvia, then at me, his forehead scrunched, eyebrows drawn. He lowered his eyes to the checkered tablecloth and traced a pattern.

  Sylvia touched his shoulder lightly, almost in a playful gesture. “You and Sarah Jane will soon be husband and wife.”

  Michael flicked his gaze in my direction but didn’t answer.

  Sylvia continued as if he had. “I wanted to offer my congratulations. And y’all just let me know if I can help in any way. Michael, I’ll be glad to sew on a button...”

  Michael stopped his tracing and stared at her. “Jay is perfectly capable of sewing.”

  “Oh, really? I didn’t know... with all the studying and working so hard at her job. You do realize, Michael, I’m majoring in home economics. I can put together a trousseau like that.” She snapped her slim fingers.

  My jaw hung open until Michael brushed his knee against mine. I clamped my mouth shut and blinked at Sylvia who touched a napkin to her lips.

  I cleared my throat. “My aunt has been helping me for three years now. My cedar chest is full, and we’re almost finished with my wedding dress.”

  A wedding dress I wouldn’t be wearing for a while — not if Michael followed through on what he had told me last night. My cheeks burned at the thought, and my gaze fell to my food. I spooned in a mouthful, not tasting it.

  Sylvia leaned across the table toward me. “Please, let me know if you need help with anything. I can give you cooking lessons if you’d like.”

  My head snapped up. Had someone told her I couldn’t cook? I could cook just fine — eating what I’d cooked was the hard part.

  Michael grinned at me for a split second before sobering and turning to Sylvia. “I love Jay’s cooking.”

  I grimaced, knowing he was stretching the truth.

  “Oh? But we can all use a little help at times, can’t we?” She flashed her flawless teeth again and wiggled in her chair, tilting her head at Michael.

  He stared her down. “I’m sure Jay will be quite good at any and all of her wifely duties.” His eyes burned with such intensity, I was sure Sylvia would flinch.

  Instead, she raised an eyebrow. “Well, that’s good to know. However, if you need me for anything, anything at all, you know where I am.” She winked at Michael, gathered her tray, and touched his shoulder briefly in passing.

  After she left, I leaned closer to him. “What was that about?”

  He shrugged his shoulders but red stained his cheeks. “You tell me.”

  I bit back my thoughts. She was obviously trying to gain Michael’s attention. But what did it matter if he was leaving?

  Again he traced the pattern on the tablecloth. Still looking down, he spoke. “Jay, we need to talk.”

  My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. He raised his head to lock his hard gaze on me. Neither of us moved for a moment.

  Then he frowned, as if seeing me for the first time. His warm brown eyes softened. “Had a rough morning?”

  I shrugged. “You could say that.”

  He sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair. He locked his fingers behind his head and stared at the ceiling for a brief second.

  I pushed my tray away and propped my elbows on the table. When he moved closer, I bowed my head, not able to bear the look in his eyes.

  He placed his hand on my back, and his light touch signaled what was coming. I remained frozen, my hands held tightly together to keep from betraying me.

  “Jay, there’s no easy way to say this. I don’t think we should see each other, not until I get back.” His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

  His words pierced my heart. Not only did he not want to marry; now he didn’t even want to see me. I shrugged my shoulders but didn’t speak, afraid the tears would come. Or else angry words that I would never be able to take back. I kept my head bowed.

  “I’m sorry, Jay. I hope you understand how difficult this is... for me to leave. I’ve got to get on that train and... maybe never see you again.”

  I frowned down at the table. What of me? For him to leave me alone, utterly alone. He was going off to war, leaving me here, without even a promise of a future. How was I supposed to cope? How could he do this to me?

  Maybe it was just a way to get rid of me so he could get back with Sylvia. For such a short time? I shook my head. I trusted Michael, didn’t I? We had been together for three years... but, to be honest, we had barely seen each other during that time. Perhaps he realized he’d made a mistake.

  I finally raised my head, straightened my back — as straight as the anatomy skeleton’s rammed through with a metal rod, and folded my hands in my lap. My voice was strangely calm. “And you think that’s best? To break off all contact?”

  It was his turn to look down. He traced the pattern on the tablecloth several times before he spoke. “I don’t know what’s best. How can I? I just want to do what’s right...”

  “I certainly don’t want to keep you from doing what you think is right.” My voice trembled with anger, and I stared down at my hands in my lap.

  “I’m afraid, Jay.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “...afraid I won’t be able to leave you if we married.”

  I raised my head. His words sent a shiver down my spine, but they also angered me. He tilted his head toward me and our eyes met.

  I spoke through gritted teeth. “And yet you can leave me now?”

  “Jay...”

  I pushed back my chair, grabbed my things, and quickly walked away. I heard his steps behind me, but I kept going, out the door.

  He caught me outside and grabbed my arm. “Jay...”

  I stopped and stared down at his hand. “Let go, Michael. That’s what you want — to let go, to never see me again. I’m sorry I’m making it difficult for you.”

  He released his hold and ran his fingers through his hair — the older he got, the darker his hair became. Time slowed as I noticed the sun reflect on golden strands of highlights — the color all of his hair had once been. Curls fell across his forehead and around his ears — he needed a haircut. Well, the Marines would see to that.

  He lowered his head until his mouth whispered in my ear. “I didn’t say I never wanted to see you again. I love you and when I come back...”

  I backed away from his low voice that never failed to induce chill bumps. “And we don’t know when that will be, do we?”

  His eyes clouded, and he turned away. “Or even if,” he said flatly.

  Compassion made me reach out my hand and lay it on his arm. “Michael, you’ll come back.”

  “How do you know?” His voice was s
keptical.

  “Remember the old woman? Paul’s great grandmother?”

  “Paul? My old roommate?”

  I let my hand fall to my side. “Remember when we were coming back from Phenix City, and we stopped at his place? His great grandmother was there. I told you about it later...”

  He nodded his head and brushed his hair back with both hands. “Yeah. My memory’s not so great about that night.”

  Pain flickered in his eyes. I nodded, knowing why.

  “She told me you were going across the ocean, but you would come back.” I bit back the other words she had said, that he would return broken. She had said broken but not beyond repair.

  “There you go, then. I’ll be back. We’ll get married. The war won’t last forever. But, Jay, please understand. It’s too hard to see you... knowing I have to leave.”

  “If that’s the way you want it...” I shrugged my shoulders and moved away.

  “Jay... you’ll write?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. His forehead was furrowed.

  I shook my head. “If you don’t want to see me, we don’t need to keep in touch. At all. I’m sorry.”

  And I walked away.

  Chapter 4—Marla

  When I got home, I moped around. Had I been too harsh on Michael? Sylvia was so conniving. She was probably trying to make sure we did break up.

  Michael had been attracted to her, probably still was, and had dated her... but he had chosen me, hadn’t he? But maybe the past three years had just been a lie? Was he regretting his choice?

  But I loved him — had loved him forever. I couldn’t let him leave and not keep in touch. William was right. I needed to support Michael... this was so hard on him. I’d have to get his address from someone when the time came. Maybe Dan or Marla could get it for me.

  I ate supper in silence. Aunt Liza and Uncle Howard didn’t ask about Michael. Maybe they had already heard he had broken up with me. William hadn’t shown up for supper, but that wasn’t unusual.

  My aunt and uncle talked of other things, carefully avoiding the topic of the impending war. Still, I caught their furtive glances at each other and at me. Maybe I should have told them about Michael and me, but I just couldn’t talk about it. They were wise not to ask.