“C’mon,” he said, grabbing one of the quilts that he kept handy to protect furniture on their trips to Birmingham. Taking Lila by the hand, he led her downstairs and out the back of the store to a pasture behind the storage shed. They spread the quilt in the thick grass and sat down together. There was so much kudzu and honeysuckle draping the pasture fence that they couldn’t see the cars going by on the highway or even hear much of the traffic noise—not that Glory had much traffic. The few businesses in town had been carved out of cotton fields, so there was still farmland smack in the middle of the city limits.
“There’s nothing else like this,” Lila said, looking up at the sky. “You can see the power of it—you really can. First, all the leaves on the trees start to tremble just a little—you have to be watching for it to even see it. And then the wind gets stronger, and it starts pushing the branches up and down like it’s playing with them almost. But then it finally just unleashes, and there’s this big . . . hushy noise. And then everything starts bowing to it and laying back against it. Just the power of that wind . . . I don’t know. It’s something . . . John? Something wrong?”
John was having trouble focusing on the weather, sitting so close to Lila with her head tilted back and that beautiful smile on her face. “What? A hushy noise?”
“That’s it right there—hear it?”
A grove of pecan trees behind them was bowing to the wind as the storm crept closer and the purple sky turned smoky. The lightning was still distant, but now the thunder was following much faster. They were pushing their luck by staying outside, but neither of them wanted to leave the storm.
For the second time that afternoon, Lila turned and caught John staring at her. “What?” she said.
“Think I mighta just seen one of those split seconds of perfection you were talkin’ about this mornin’. Well, almost perfect—got a pecan leaf in your hair.” His hand brushed against her face as he reached for the leaf, and for just a second he held it there. Something about the way she looked at him when he did that made his heart race.
Then there was a loud pop of lightning. The wind stopped and it got very quiet outside.
John immediately looked up at the sky. “You feel that?”
“The wind just . . . stopped,” she said.
“No, I mean the drop—did you feel the pressure drop?”
“I don’t know what you—”
“Get up!” He was already standing and pulling her to her feet. “Run!” He had her by the hand, and he knew she was running as hard as she could, trying not to slow him down, but he held back for her.
Just as they made it inside the store, the lights went out and they heard a terrifying roar churning straight for them. John knew they’d never be able to see their way safely into the basement without lights, so he grabbed Lila, flung her to the floor behind the heavy walnut counter, and lay on top of her, bracing his arms against the floor to keep most of his weight off of her. The roar of the tornado grew louder and louder. John could feel the pine floor vibrating beneath his arms and Lila’s breath quickening against his neck. He heard the sound of breaking glass as the whole building shook.
In seconds it was over. The old store creaked as if it were settling back into its foundation. John shifted his weight off of Lila and propped on his elbow so he could see her face.
“Lila?” he said, but she didn’t answer. She was still breathing hard and staring up at the ceiling. “Lila.” He touched her cheek. “Look at me.”
She finally seemed to hear him from somewhere far off.
“Did I hurt you?” he said. She just blinked at him but didn’t answer. “Lila, did I hurt you?” He laid his hand over her knee. “Move your legs—can you move your legs for me?” She moved the one beneath his hand and then the other. “Can you get up?” he asked, helping her sit up and lean against the wall behind the counter. He ran his hands over her arms and shoulders, still not convinced that he hadn’t broken something when he threw her to the floor.
“I’m not h-hurt,” she finally said, and he relaxed beside her. She tried to talk, but he could tell she was still too frightened to be coherent. “I’ve never—I mean—that was—John—”
He put his arms around her and held her tight. She was shaking all over. “Everything’s alright,” he said. “I’ve got you.”
Dovey sat close to Pete on the truck seat as he drove down the highway. They were about twenty miles from home, and he had been quiet for the last five or so.
“Go on and tell me,” Dovey finally said.
“Go on and tell you what?” he asked.
“Go on and tell me what you’re trying to figure out. Maybe I can help.”
He smiled. “You know, I might be makin’ a big mistake, marryin’ a girl who can read my mind.”
“Well, you’ll never get away with anything, that’s for sure. C’mon, tell me.”
Pete sighed. “It’s just that I can’t help feelin’ like something’s . . . different . . . with Mama and your daddy.”
Dovey nodded.
“You see it too?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you think they could end up . . .”
“Together?”
“Yeah! I mean, they say they’re friends, but it just seems like . . . I don’t know . . . maybe there’s more to it than that. You think they might really care about each other—the way we do, I mean?”
“Yes,” Dovey said. “But they haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Man! Can you believe this? Isaac told me one time that your life can take some hairpin turns, and this is a doozy.”
“Would it bother you—them being together?”
“No . . . I don’t think so. I think a lot of your daddy. And Mama always seems so much happier when he’s there—like she’s not lonesome anymore. I just didn’t see it comin’, is all.”
“Neither did they.”
He gave her a knowing grin. “You did, though, didn’t you?”
She smiled. “Well, let’s just say I had a feeling.”
“So what do you think about it?”
“Daddy’s so different with her—different even from how he was with Mama, what little I can remember. It’s like Miss Lila chases his darkness away, even when he thinks he doesn’t want her to. But that makes me worry for her.”
“How come?”
“Well, you know how your mama’s always said you’re just like your daddy?”
“Yeah.”
“That means the last time she was in love, it was with somebody like you. But Daddy’s nothing like you, Pete. It can be really hard for him to tell you what he’s thinking or how he feels. When he’s sad or worried, he kinda walls himself in—and walls everybody else out. I don’t know how your mama would handle that.”
“So what do we do?”
“I don’t think it’s up to us to do anything.”
“Well, it’s up to me to get some gas or we’re gonna be walkin’ home,” he said. He pulled into a Texaco station and asked the attendant for five gallons. It was cloudier here than it had been at Pine Bluff, and a steady wind was blowing.
“Will that do it for you?” the attendant asked when he finished with the gas and cleaned Pete’s windshield.
“Guess so,” Pete said, turning to Dovey. “Unless you want something from inside?”
She didn’t answer. She was staring at the diamond ring on her finger.
Pete grinned and covered the ring with his hand. “Earth to Mrs. McLean!” he said. “You want anything from the mother ship?”
Dovey laughed and shook her head.
“What do I owe you?” Pete asked the attendant.
“That’ll be two dollars,” the attendant said, and Pete handed him the money. “We ’preciate your business. Where you folks headed?”
“On our way home,” Pete said, “about fifteen miles from here.”
“Not to Glory, I hope?” the attendant said.
“Yeah—why?”
“Ain’t y
ou heard?” the attendant said. “That little town just took a tornado. Fella come by here about ten minutes ago, said he could barely get through there. Said the Baptist church got creamed.”
“What?” Dovey cried, grasping Pete’s hand. And then something even worse sank in. “Pete, the store—it’s not even a quarter mile from the church, and they’re in it!”
“It’ll be okay, Dovey. Let’s just get home as quick as we can.” He waved goodbye to the attendant and hurried down the highway.
Pete and Dovey started seeing signs of damage just a mile or two beyond the river bridge. It was terrifyingly random. There would’ve been no way to plan for it or protect yourself from it. They passed County Road 51, which led to Isaac’s neighborhood, and couldn’t even see the asphalt for all the downed trees.
“Hattie,” Pete said under his breath.
“Don’t even think it,” Dovey said. “Just pray she’s safe.”
Lila felt John relax his arms, but he kept them around her as she slowly stopped shaking and started breathing normally again. She sat up a little so they could talk. “Pete and Dovey—should we—”
“Pine Bluff’s at least thirty miles away,” he said. “And they wouldn’a come home early enough to get caught in it. We’ll check at our houses to be sure—if we can get the truck down the highway. Roads might not be clear.”
“Daddy’s in Birmingham. I’m not sure about Neva. What about your family?”
“Mama woulda predicted something this big.”
“But it came up so quick. She couldn’t have—”
“She woulda seen signs. Always does.”
“How did you know?”
“Pressure in the air. And the color of the sky when the wind stopped.”
“I’ll bet you’re thinking I’m not much of a storm girl,” Lila said, disappointed in herself.
He smiled. “Matter of fact, I was thinkin’ I had no idea you could run that fast.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a holdover from my childhood,” she said with a weak laugh. “Neva was taller, so I had to be quicker if I wanted to keep up.”
“You’re still a storm girl, Lila. You’re just not lookin’ to die. No shame in that.”
A torrential rain had followed the tornado, and right now it was unusually loud, as if it were in the store with them. Some part of the building had to be open to the outside.
“Guess we gotta face the damage sooner or later,” John said.
“Guess so,” Lila said as he stood up, took her hands, and pulled her to her feet.
They stepped out from behind the counter to find a shattered window on the far end of the store. The tree limb that had sailed through it was lying on the floor, but that looked like the extent of the damage. Right now the wind was in their favor, blowing the rain away from the empty space where the window used to be.
“Got some plywood upstairs,” he said. “I’ll cover it with that for now.” He started up the stairs but stopped short on the second step. Lila had closed the door to the shop behind them when they went outside, so the stairwell was dark.
“What is it?” she asked.
“What if I open that door upstairs and see sky?” he said.
“That’s not gonna happen. We just won’t let it.” She passed him on the stairs and went ahead of him. “C’mon. I’ll go first.”
At the top of the stairs, Lila opened the big door leading into the shop. She gasped as they stepped inside. “John, look!” The top floor was unscathed—not so much as a broken windowpane. Everything was just as they had left it except for the electricity, which would likely be off for a while.
They split up and walked all around the shop. It was dim, with no electric lights working and the afternoon sky still dark from the storm.
Once John made sure that everything in the shop was safe and sound, he sat down on a bench against the rear wall, leaned back, and closed his eyes. “That was mighty close.”
“Made it through, though, didn’t we?” Lila stood in front of the window next to him, looking out at the little pasture where they had sat together just a half hour ago. The tornado had reduced the pecan grove to matchsticks. “Think I’ll let some air in now that the rain’s letting up.” Struggling with the latch, she tried not to think about what would’ve happened to them if John hadn’t read the signs in the sky.
“Won’t open?” He got up to help her.
“I can’t tell if it’s rusted shut or what.”
He stood behind her and reached around her shoulders, freeing the latch and raising the window. His arms fell to his sides, but he didn’t move from where he stood, so close to her that they were almost touching. He smelled like the woods after a hard rain—clean and warm. Against the purple sky, she could see his reflection in the window. He wasn’t looking out at the shattered pecan grove. He was looking down at her. And it felt like those few seconds right before the storm, when the wind had stopped blowing and everything got dangerously still.
Then his hands began softly gliding up her arms to her shoulders. She leaned back against him as those hands slipped around her waist. For a moment they stood in the quiet, with nothing but the peaceful sound of rainfall on the old tin roof overhead, until he whispered into her hair, “Turn around, Lila.”
Ned Ballard would’ve given all he had to go home this rainy afternoon and find Virginia waiting to hear about his day. He longed to tell her so many things. God only knew why, but Virginia had always taken an interest in everything he said or did. She never offered him advice unless he asked for it, but he asked for it daily, and her counsel was always sound. She would have known how to break this FBI news to Pete when the time came. In a way, he would be harder to manage than Hattie, who, sadly, wouldn’t be shocked to learn that a white PTA president had killed her son. But Pete would be. Ned’s one hope for Hattie was that they could prove to her beyond doubt that Isaac died instantly and didn’t suffer. Anything else and she wouldn’t be able to stand it.
What on earth?
It had started raining on him about ten miles out of Birmingham, but as he approached Glory, he began to see signs of a tornado’s horrific handiwork. Trees were down everywhere, entangled with power lines, and the highway was littered with limbs and debris. He passed John’s store and was relieved to see that it was still standing. He knew Lila was planning to work there today, and if the store was okay, so was his daughter. Even John’s truck, which was parked out front, looked fine except for a few small limbs on the hood. Still, he was about to turn around and go back there, just to make sure, when he reached the only traffic light in town, which wasn’t working. Looking toward the church, he saw where the tornado had actually touched down. It had played a cruel game of hopscotch, skipping up and down, back and forth across the highway, leaving this house standing, that one demolished, the cotton gin intact, First Baptist Church . . .
Merciful heaven.
He had great hands—strong and a little weathered, with long, slender fingers so attuned to what he was doing . . .
Just a few hours ago, Lila had been watching John work, thinking about his hands, which were now drawing her to him—one at the curve of her back, pulling her closer, the other caressing her face.
“Please don’t let go. I don’t think I can stand it if you let go.” Lila almost didn’t recognize her own voice.
In front of the big window, with a cool wind blowing and the storm thundering off, John didn’t let go. He whispered “Lila” as he bent down and kissed her till they both couldn’t breathe. Now he was holding her, waiting for her, just as he had when they were running from the storm and he’d held back to make sure he didn’t get too far ahead of her.
Over static from the storm, “Wichita Lineman” was finally drifting out of the radio. But Lila wasn’t listening.
Ned stood in the churchyard with a gathering crowd, relieved to see Geneva running toward him. He put his arms around his daughter and held her like he had when she was a little girl. Even this soon after the storm, wo
rd of the damage was spreading all over Glory, and members of the church were gathering to see what was left of First Baptist. Still intact, the steeple rested on its side in the parking lot of the cotton gin across the highway, but so far they hadn’t been able to find the iron bell that used to hang beneath it.
The church building itself was gone. There wasn’t even much debris—just a bare slab where it once had been. The piano keyboard lay in the middle of the highway, and Miss Beulah’s beloved organ was nowhere to be seen. A hundred-year-old oak tree out front had withstood the storm, but it was littered with pages from hymnals and pew Bibles, which made bat-wing noises as they flapped in the breeze like tiny white flags of surrender. Miraculously, the dove that had hung on the back wall of the baptistery was unharmed. It had landed in an azalea bush—just perched there as if it had foreseen the danger and flown to safety.
As they came, one by one, the congregation instinctively formed a semicircle facing what used to be their church. Absent the heartbreaking evidence of loss, anyone driving by would’ve thought they were getting ready to join hands for the benediction.
“Mama!”
“Daddy!”
John and Lila hadn’t heard Pete and Dovey come into the store.
“They’re not—” he began.
“Ready for this,” she finished for him as they reluctantly parted just before their children came running up the stairs.
“Are y’all okay?” Dovey started to cry as she ran into her father’s arms.
“Don’t cry, baby,” he said. “We’re fine.”
“You look a little rattled, Mama,” Pete said, putting his arms around his mother. “Did you have a close call?”
“Well, son, you could say that,” she said. “You could definitely say that.”
“What’s it look like out there?” John asked.
“Not good,” Pete said. “We heard . . . well . . .”
“What is it, honey?” Lila asked.
“We heard it hit the church.”
“What?” Lila cried.
Missing Isaac Page 20