Josh shielded his eyes and squinted in the direction of the ocean. The clouds moved faster overhead and became darker too, like black cloth banking up from the south and spreading north. He checked the fields again, drained of all water for the last ten days. Close to three hundred darkies slaved away, their rice hooks busy hacking down the sheaves of rice. Another crew of workers walked behind them, laying the cut stalks in neat rows where they’d stay for a couple of days to dry. Later a third group would pick up the dried sheaves and tie them together, making ricks about seven feet wide and twenty feet long that they’d stack in the barn in piles as high as a man could stack them.
Josh adjusted his wide-brimmed hat. The field hands had labored since sunup and wouldn’t stop until well past dark. Nobody got off in harvesttime—not even a pregnant woman, as much as Josh hated that. If a darky could move, he or she took their place in the fields. When the sun went down, they lit torches in the yard and barn so they could keep laboring.
When a couple of the older hands glanced up at the sky, Josh knew they felt it too. Although still baking hot, the temperature had dropped four or five degrees since mealtime, and the air seemed heavy, as if someone had squeezed it into a space smaller than it should fit. His pulse rising, Josh turned around and headed for the river. Several of the workers nodded at him as he passed, but he paid them no attention. His chin set, he reached the river in less than five minutes and stepped down to the bank. Mud sucked at his boots as he neared the edge of the stream. Bending, he studied the water flow, expecting to see it running north to south toward the ocean. He picked up a stick about the width of his finger and tossed it into the water. The stick drifted away in the slow current, slower than usual it seemed, but still moving south. Josh stood and walked with the stick as it eased toward a bend in the riverbed.
Keeping his eyes on the stick, Josh walked close to five hundred yards, to the place where the river turned and widened. The stick made the curve, and Josh followed it. Just past the bend the stick slowed, slowed, and then stopped. Josh squatted to the water and saw that the current had just about stopped.
Scared now, he stood and rushed back toward the manse to find York. He located him near a barn, directing a group of workers who were stacking cut rice.
“I need a horse!” Josh yelled to Leather Joe as he rushed to York. “Bring two!”
York looked up, and Josh pointed at the sky. “Come with me. I think we got trouble on the way.”
York opened his mouth as if to argue, but Josh stepped close and stopped him before he could. “It’s been building all afternoon. There’s a blower headed our way.”
“Ease yourself,” said York. “We get somethin’ every five or six years around here. Just had a big one a few years ago, in ’54. Not time for another to hit us just yet. Even if it does, it won’t be much this time—a hard wind for a few hours, some rain maybe. But the worst storms mostly ride on past us.”
“You’re probably right,” Josh replied. “But you can’t predict these things, you know that.”
Leather Joe walked up with two horses.
York raised his eyebrows. “You goin’ down to the beach?”
“Yes. Thought you might want to come too.”
“I got plenty to do here,” York argued.
“I know. But I want you to check with me.”
York sighed and shook his head but mounted his horse. Josh climbed on his, and they galloped toward the beach, their horses’ manes straight as the wind blew through· them.
“The wind’s coming from the southeast!” called Josh over the horses’ thumping hooves. “Running in from the ocean at us!”
“It’s not that bad!” York hollered back.
“I went to the river! Current is almost stopped.”
For the first time, York’s face clouded. “You thinkin’ the river will back up?”
“I hope not! But that’s my fear!”
They reached the trail to the beach within minutes. Josh led his horse through the trail and out on the sand. They darted onto the beach, the horses huffing, their hooves kicking up sand. Josh immediately saw the tide had pushed up much farther than usual for that time of day. Clouds loomed as far as he could see, the darkest of them to his right, from the south. The wind blew heavier here, and he had to hold his hat to keep it on. Sand whistled in the air and cut his face. The ocean looked gray, and the waves dashed to the shore with swells at least four feet high and whitecaps that rushed toward them like soapy foam.
“Temperature is droppin’!” yelled York.
“I think we got one blowing toward us!” yelled Josh.
York cursed his agreement, spun his horse around, and rushed back toward The Oak. “We got to build up the dikes!” he called. “Get in as much rice as we can. Hope the tide surge don’t push the river up too far, that the wind don’t get too heavy!”
Josh spurred his horse up the trail. Although every planter on the coast knew that a hurricane could destroy a rice crop in any year, they all lived in hopes no bad one ever landed. Outside of an outbreak of malaria or typhus, folks in the lowlands feared a hurricane more than anything.
They reached The Oak and thundered to the barn, where Josh jumped off his horse. The wind here, although brisker than normal, wasn’t as strong as at the beach.
“I got to warn Master Trenton,” said York. “He’ll need to get things in place at the manse.”
Josh waved him off and started giving orders to the servants. Within minutes the place pounded with movement, people rushing in all directions, yelling and hollering. Josh barked directions, sending this servant that way and another off for something else. The wind gradually picked up, and every now and again dirt flew.
York rushed back up and jumped off his horse, his hand over his eyes to protect them from the gritty air. “You seen Camellia?!” he yelled to Josh.
“No, She not at the manse?”
“Not that I saw.”
“I need to check on my kids,” Josh yelled back.
“Go on. Get them safe, then get back here as fast as you can!”
Josh ran off, trying to figure how much damage might happen if a rough storm landed. He knew about the one in ’54. It had beached ships in Charleston, knocked down houses, and killed hundreds of people. The tide surge had pushed salt water close to three miles up the freshwater rivers and flooded a lot of rice fields with the killing ocean water.
He reached his house and rushed toward the door. Beth, with Lucy and Butler right behind her, met him on the porch as he ran up. To his surprise, Camellia joined them, her hair blowing in the wind as it got a little stronger.
“I figured I better check on them,” she said loudly. “Knew you’d have plenty on your hands to do.”
He hugged his children. “Thank you.”
“I got planks for the windows,” Camellia added. “About to board them up.”
“I’ll help.”
“No. You go on back. We’re okay here. Pa needs you.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Won’t Master Trenton miss you?”
“I haven’t seen him. These kids need me more than he does anyway.”
Josh pushed his hat down as the wind tugged at it. “Okay,” he finally agreed. “But I’ll get back here as soon as I can.”
“I’ll stay with them. Don’t fret.”
Josh hugged his kids once more, then stepped to Camellia and opened his arms. She moved to him and he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. A funny feeling ran through him as he felt her warmth, and his breath caught in his throat. Without warning, the way he viewed her shifted slightly, and the feeling scared him. Embarrassed, he hurriedly stepped away.
“You’re a blessing!” he called over the wind, trying to cover his mistake. “A true friend.”
Camellia waved him off, and he pivoted and ran out without saying anything else. Rushing back to the manse, he fussed at himself for being such a fool. Not only was Camellia promised to Master Trenton
, but she was far too young for him. Besides, his dear Anna had passed only months ago; it was much too soon for him to get feelings for anybody else. Even worse, he knew Camellia had no care for him, at least not in that way. For all she knew, he was her uncle. How could she feel anything but a sisterly affection for him?
He reached the largest of The Oak’s barns and almost felt glad for the approaching storm … anything to take his mind off his confusion about Camellia. “Get those animals into the barn!” he yelled to Leather Joe, pointing to a field where a group of cows were huddled against a fence.
All around him, chaos ruled. As the day progressed, the storm edged closer, the wind notching up in force. Josh, York, and everyone else rushed about, trying to do what they could to prepare for what lay ahead.
Dark fell at least an hour sooner that night, the early black caused by the clouds that now covered the sky as far as anybody could see. With Josh’s children never going more than three or four feet away from her, Camellia did all she could to prepare for the storm. She put boards over the open windows, hauled in buckets of fresh water, piled all the candles in the house in one spot so they would stay dry, and hauled in food from the cookhouse.
Finished with that, she and the children dragged the kitchen table, the heaviest piece of furniture into the house, into the front room by the fireplace.
“Get your blankets,” she told the children. “Put them under the table.”
“We gone sleep there?” asked Butler.
“Yes,” said Beth. “If the roof blows away or a big tree crashes on it, the table will provide some shelter.”
“The chimney too,” Camellia added. “That’s why we put the table close to the fireplace.”
Lucy and Butler, their eyes big, got their blankets without another word and slid under the table.
The wind howled as the night deepened. The house quivered every now and again, as if some giant had it in the palm of his hands and was shaking it. Something rattled against the ceiling from time to time as well, so Camellia knew that tree limbs and pieces of wood had torn loose from all kinds of places. After a few hours of pounding rain, water started leaking through the roof in numerous places. Before too long they had run out of buckets to catch the dripping wet.
“How bad will the wind blow?” asked Beth, her eyes wide in the glow of the candlelight as she sat by Camellia under the table.
“Don’t know,” said Camellia. “But not hard enough to blow down the chimney. If it gets too bad, well put out the fire and climb right up into it.”
Butler balled his little hands into fists and lightly punched the legs of the table. “It feels stout.”
Camellia drew him into her arms. “It is. That’s why we’ll stay here all night if the wind stays up.”
“You bring a book?” asked Beth.
Camellia smiled. Lately, she’d started bringing books when she came to Mr. Cain’s house. She practiced her reading on the kids. They seemed to like it and fussed at her when she didn’t remember to bring one. “I brought a Bible.”
“You bring that a lot,” said Butler.
Camellia smiled again. Half the back cover of the Bible was missing, and the pages curled up some on the edges as if somebody had squashed it somewhere along the way. She felt good about being able to read from it, even slowly.
“I like the Bible, don’t you?” she asked.
Butler nodded, and Camellia brushed back his curly blond hair. He looked a lot like his pa. A handsome boy, she thought. Also like his pa.
“Read somethin’,” said Beth, jarring her thoughts away from Josh. “From the Bible.”
Camellia crawled to the edge of the table so the fire could help her see and placed the Bible in her lap. “Here’s a good one for tonight.” She opened the pages to Matthew 7. “See if you like this as much as I do.” She read slowly, hesitating over many of the words. “Whosoever heareth these … these sayings of mine, and doeth them, I will … liken him unto a wise man, which built his house upon a rock. And the rain … de … descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell not; for it was founded upon a rock.”
She paused, licked her lips, then continued, this time with more confidence, her voice louder to be heard over the wind. “And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand: and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it.”
She closed the book and looked at Butler, whose eyes had widened with every word. “Your pa’s a man of the Lord,” she soothed. “He’s built his house on the Rock of Ages.”
“So our house ain’t gone fall?” asked Beth.
“No,” Camellia promised.
“You read good,” said Butler.
“She studies hard,” Beth told him.
“Will you teach me?” asked Butler.
Camellia patted his head. “I’ll teach you all I know.”
Footsteps sounded on the front porch. Everybody watched as the door swung open and slammed against the wall. Josh staggered as the wind pushed him into the house. The rain fell in buckets past the door, and thunder rolled. Rain streamed down Josh’s face. Camellia crawled from under the table and ran to the kitchen. A second later she returned, her hands full of dry rags. Josh had managed to shut the door and now stood by the fireplace, his clothes soaked.
“Dry yourself,” she said, handing him the towels. He obeyed silently, swiping at his head with the rags as he pulled off his hat.
Beth moved from under the table and ran to him, her arms wrapping around his legs. “How hard is the wind goin’ to blow, Pa?”
“Not hard enough to knock our house off the rock,” said Butler, coming up behind her.
Josh quirked an eyebrow at Camellia. “Matthew seven,” she said in explanation. “I read them Matthew seven.”
Josh nodded and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. Camellia’s mouth fell open and she dropped her eyes, embarrassed at seeing a man starting to disrobe.
Josh stopped as he saw her discomfort. “I’m sorry,” he started. “I just…” She glanced up, a warm sensation running through her face. “No, it’s your house. I should go home.”
He shook his head. “You can’t. Nobody’s there. Your pa, Chester, and Johnny are at the manse, orders of Master Trenton. He told me to bring you too, if I thought it safe enough.”
Camellia looked toward the door. “How bad is it?”
“Not good. I almost didn’t make it here. Too much blowing around out there—limbs, sticks, who knows what else? The manse is a long way to go in this.”
“But my house isn’t far,” she insisted. “I’m sure I can get there.”
“I won’t let you. I’ll try to get you to the manse if you want, but I won’t let you stay alone at your house all night.”
Camellia considered the manse. What would it feel like to sleep there? How strange! In spite of the fact that she and Trenton planned to marry in less than a year, she’d never even thought of that. She’d feel so out of place there, like a dog sleeping in a mansion, a stranger putting her head down where it didn’t belong.
“I don’t reckon it will look proper for me to spend the night in the house of my betrothed before the marriage,” she said. “Even if a storm is blowing.”
“I think most folks would understand.”
“You think we can make it, then?”
“I’ll do whatever you ask.”
Beth stepped to Camellia. “Don’t go. I’m scared. Stay here and read to us some more.”
“Yes, stay here,” added Butler and Lucy.
“Who’s gone stay with us if Pa takes you?” said Beth, taking a new approach. “We’re too scared to stay here alone.”
Camellia looked at each of the children, then back at Josh. Water still dripped off his face, but not as heavily as earlier. His top shirt button remained loose, and his wet shirt stuck
to his strongly muscled shoulders and chest. When a quivery sensation ran through her arms and face again, she realized she wasn’t looking at Josh like an uncle. She dropped her eyes and told herself to stop thinking such evil thoughts. She and Trenton would marry in May, and Mr. Cain was her pa’s brother—at least half—so she ought to stop acting like a schoolgirl just because he had unbuttoned a shirt button.
Lucy grabbed Camellia’s hands and tugged her back toward the table. “You got to stay,” she insisted. “You can’t leave us here by our lonesome.”
Not knowing what else to do, Camellia followed Lucy back toward the haven under the table. Josh picked up a rag and wiped his face again. “I best get a dry shirt. I’ll change, then come back.”
Camellia sat on the floor, still confused by her reaction to Josh. Butler climbed into her lap and handed her the Bible again. Hurriedly, she opened it and looked for a new passage to read … anything to take her mind off the fact that Josh Cain, a most handsome man, was changing his clothes in a room just a few feet away. Her eyes landed on Matthew 5, and she started reading. When Josh returned a couple of minutes later, she didn’t even glance up. He took a spot on the floor nearby, and they all sat that way for a long time. Eventually, Camellia’s voice got quieter as the children yawned, stretched out on their blankets, and fell asleep. Then Camellia stopped reading and put the Bible aside. Holding her breath, she looked up, almost hoping that by some miracle Josh had disappeared. But there he sat, dry shirt and all, hair slicked back, eyes gentle as he watched her. Outside the wind seemed to have softened.
“You read wonderfully well for somebody so new to it,” he said. “You should feel proud.”
“I read some every day. Trying to do my best.”
He smiled and she relaxed some. He was her friend, and she could talk to him. As the hurricane raged outside, she and Josh talked more and more easily. They talked of the Bible and what it meant, of their faith and how they had come by it, their likes and dislikes in matters of all kinds. For some reason she couldn’t explain, Camellia felt safe in spite of the storm, as if Josh Cain could take care of anything that might seek to harm her. She wondered why she didn’t sense the same thing with Trenton but decided it was because Trenton was so much younger.
Secret Tides Page 19