Fading Thunder_A Historical Romance

by Sheila Hollinghead

  My heart beat wildly as I reached out a hand to him. “Michael! You are!”

  “Me? I came home, and we had relations one time.” He was in my face, holding up one finger. “One time!”

  My face burned. Sex was a normal part of the husband and wife relationship. Yet for Michael to be saying this in front of Dan made me long for the earth to open up and swallow me whole. “Once is all it takes,” I whispered.

  Michael moved away, raking his fingers through his hair. He jumped off the porch and leaned over at the waist, breathing heavily.

  My legs quivered, and I sank back in my chair. No one spoke for a minute. Dan resumed his seat on the swing, thankfully keeping it still. Waves of nausea washed over me.

  Michael straightened and walked slowly up the steps. He spoke calmly. “How is it Dan knew, and I didn’t?”

  I threw another glance at Dan. Michael grabbed the arms of my chair, leaning toward me. “Don’t look at him! Answer me.”

  Dan was on his feet, pushing Michael away. “Are you crazy, man? Leave your wife alone!”

  When Michael stepped back, again raking his fingers through his hair, Dan spoke again. “I saw Jay vomiting. I asked, and Marla told me.”

  “And how did Marla know?” Michael’s hands were again clenched in fists as he faced Dan.

  I spoke wearily. “I have morning sickness.”

  Michael continued glaring at Dan. “Jay told me you and Marla were separated. Why would she have a conversation with you, especially about my wife?”

  “It’s hard to explain. I was there at my uncle’s. Jay and I were talking —”

  “You were there? Talking to my wife?” Michael narrowed his eyes and the planes of his face tightened.

  Black spots danced in my vision.

  Dan’s eyes landed on me, and he gestured. “Mike, Jay is looking peaked.”

  “Are you okay?” Michael asked. His voice sounded far away. Someone scooped me in their arms as darkness overtook me.

  Chapter 20—Explanation

  When I opened my eyes, I was in my own bed. Dr. Burch was talking to Michael who was nodding his head. I cleared my throat, and Dr. Burch came to my side. Michael didn’t move.

  “How do you feel?” Dr. Burch’s voice held the same patient tone as it always did.

  “Better. May I have some water?”

  Dr. Burch looked toward Michael, and he walked out, presumably to get me a glass of water. I struggled to sit, and Dr. Burch helped me.

  “Remember what I told you last time? Peppermint will help your morning sickness. And the hot lemonade.”

  “Yes, sir. I remember.”

  “And avoid stress.”

  I blew out a breath. How was I supposed to do that?

  “Are you experiencing vertigo?”

  “Not now.”

  He patted my hand. “Put your worries aside, get some rest, and let your husband wait on you.”

  I frowned and didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to believe. If what Dan said was true — that Sylvia had been telling the truth — what would happen to my marriage? There were so many unanswered questions.

  Michael returned with my water and handed it to me without speaking. I took a sip and let its coolness soothe my parched throat.

  Dr. Burch spoke again. “Of course, as you probably know, you’ll have to have a Caesarean with this baby. I do not want you to get pregnant again after this.”

  I nodded my head, already knowing doctors considered a third pregnancy after two Caesareans risky. There went the old woman’s prophecy out the window. She had said we’d have five children. Her prophecy about Michael was way off, too. The more I saw him, the more I was convinced he would never be the same Michael.

  Michael made a scoffing sound, and Dr. Burch looked in his direction. “Did you say something?”

  “No.”

  “You do understand how dangerous it will be for your wife to get pregnant a third time?”

  Michael had crossed his arms and frowned at him. “Don’t blame me if she gets pregnant again.”

  Heat flooded my cheeks. Did he mean he was leaving for good? I chewed my bottom lip, my cheeks burning.

  Dr. Burch looked as if he was going to question Michael. He obviously changed his mind, for he picked up his hat that was hanging on the back of the chair and placed it on his head. “I’d best be going. Good evening.” He gathered up his bag and left.

  “That was embarrassing,” I said, after he had gone.

  “Well, you’re almost a Virgin Mary, getting pregnant with barely a wink. How is that my fault?”

  “Michael!”

  He leaned on the doorframe. “Tell me — what am I supposed to think?”

  “You’re supposed to trust me!”

  “Like you trust me? I saw the way you looked at me when Dan accused me of being Joe Joe’s father.”

  A voice from outside the room spoke. “Whoa, Mike. I did not say that.” Dan appeared in the doorway.

  “You’re still here?” I asked. Obviously he was. And he had heard every word Michael and I had just spoken.

  “We need to talk this out. I didn’t do a very good job explaining,” he said.

  Michael pushed him in the chest. “Get out of my bedroom.”

  Dan raised both hands and backed out. “Sorry! Will you and Jay please come out here? We need to discuss this if Jay is up to it.”

  “The doctor told me to rest,” I muttered to Michael. However, I was already swinging my legs off the bed. I wanted to hear Dan’s story. Michael must have had a reason for allowing him to stay.

  Michael was at my elbow, steadying me as I stood. “Do you want to go back on the porch or in the sitting room?” he asked.

  “The sitting room is fine.”

  He grabbed my glass of water without me asking him. Maybe he was ashamed of the way he had been acting.

  When we were all in the sitting room, I pointed to Dan. I would have poked him in the chest if I’d been closer. “First, explain what you meant. You said Sylvia was telling the truth that day. There was only Marla, Laurie, and me at the table. Laurie wasn’t married at the time. That leaves either you or Michael as the father. Which is it?”

  “Neither. Someone else was at the table.”

  I furrowed my brow. “Who?”

  “Sylvia.” A look of triumph filled his face.

  Michael caught my eyes, his own as puzzled as I was sure mine were.

  I shook my head at Dan, slowly, in disbelief. “You’re saying William is the father? That makes no sense.” If I had felt better, I would have been on my feet, pacing the room.

  He nodded his head. “Yes, William is Joe Joe’s father.”

  Michael was on his feet, prowling the room. “Why would he lie and say he wasn’t? That’s crazy.”

  Dan sighed. “Sylvia convinced him. She told him everyone would know she had gotten pregnant out of wedlock. His parents wouldn’t take too kindly to him plowing” — He peeped at me, a bit of red showing in his cheeks — “Umm ... having sex before marriage.” The red intensified, but he continued speaking. “She told him to pretend he was marrying her because he felt sorry for her. That way he would stay in good standing with his parents.”

  “What would it matter?” I asked.

  “Sylvia had a fear his parents would disinherit him if they found out.”

  I scoffed. “They would never do that.”

  Michael came to a stop behind my chair and placed his hands on the back of it. “She didn’t care if she looked like a tramp?”

  “You know our Sylvia.” He gave a little cough when he caught my look. “She had it all figured out.” He scrubbed the stubble on his chin with his knuckles. “But you know, I think she was genuinely fond of William.”

  I shook my head, not convinced she cared for anyone but herself. “How could she be so conniving?”

  I reached my hand to Michael’s, and he caught it in his. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  He didn’t answer, but he squeeze
d my hand.

  I could barely hold my head up, and I had heard all I needed to from Dan. “I hate to be rude, but I’m not feeling well. And I need to get James Colton.”

  Dan immediately got to his feet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tired you out like this.”

  Michael walked into my view, his stance relaxed, almost like his old self. He spoke to me. “I’ll go over to Laurie’s, see if James Colton can spend the night. You need to get some rest.”

  “All right.” Apparently, he’d forgiven Laurie ... or at least softened a little toward her.

  Michael clasped Dan’s shoulder, a little tightly, it seemed to me. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

  They left, and I sighed. I could only imagine what Laurie’s reaction would be when she saw Michael at her door. As long as she left the shotgun alone, I was sure things would be all right. I had to learn to let others make their own mistakes. I could not control what people did. Especially not Laurie. I couldn’t suppress a grin.

  Tomorrow I would think through what Dan had told us. Tonight, I was bone-tired and needed sleep.

  I made my way to the bed and crawled between the covers, too tired to undress. Immediately sleep overtook me, and I welcomed the oblivion.

  Chapter 21—Memories

  I awoke the next morning and stretched. The sun streamed through the translucent curtains. Michael wasn’t lying beside me, and I looked more closely. The bed sheet was as smooth as it had been each morning while he was overseas. I had been so tired last night, had slept so soundly, that I couldn’t remember if he had come into the bedroom or not — he had definitely not been in bed with me. I stood carefully, with one hand against the wall, and made my way through the sitting room and into the kitchen.

  I leaned against the sink for a moment, peering out the window. Michael was nowhere in sight. I retrieved the pot from the stove and filled it with water, planning to make hot lemonade. There was no lighter in the wood box.

  I went out to the back porch, my dizziness increasing with each step. Afraid I might faint, I dangled my legs off the edge of the porch and waited for the sickness to pass. Despite my indisposition, the beauty of the day assailed me — the sun shone brightly in a cloudless, azure sky

  The fresh air helped dispel a bit of the nausea. Cautiously, I slid off the porch until I was standing beside it, holding on for a moment. The woodpile was only a few feet away, and I slowly edged toward it until I was able to steady myself on the large stump. We used its surface as a platform for the cutting of smaller pieces of wood, like lighter. The aged middle of the pine was indispensable for starting a fire, and I needed some. I looked around for the axe and then remembered Michael had put it away. I moved toward the shed, twenty or so feet from the woodpile, the bile rising again in my throat. I stopped and leaned forward, my hands on my knees, until I felt better. I made it to the shed and unlatched the chain hooked on a nail. The door swung open, but the axe was not there. I snorted in frustration.

  I sighed. No lemonade for me. And where was Michael? He should be here, helping me. I frowned. The events of last night were fuzzy, as if they had all been a dream. Surely what Dan had said was just that — a dream that should have evaporated with the rising of the sun.

  I made it back to the house, thinking I would pour some lemon juice into a cool glass of water. But when I searched the pantry, I found we had none. I rummaged some more, looking for the tin of saltines, but we didn’t have them either. I settled for a glass of water and went to the phone. I’d call Aunt Jenny, find out if Laurie was there, check on James Colton, and ask her if she had seen Michael.

  Laurie answered the phone.

  “Laurie —”

  “Jay! I wanted to call, but Mike said not to disturb you, to let you rest.”

  “So you’ve seen him?”

  I waited for her answer, and I swallowed hard, willing myself to not throw up. I couldn’t help making a sound of frustration.

  “Jay? Are you okay?”

  “Fine.” I swallowed again. “Where’s Michael?”

  “I haven’t seen him. He told me that yesterday.”

  “Is James Colton okay?”

  “He’s fine.”

  “Can you bring him home for me?”

  “Sure. We’ll be there in a shake of a rooster’s tail.”

  I hung up and took my water out to the front porch. I sat down on the same rocker I’d been in yesterday when I spoke to Dan and then to Michael. Michael had been so angry.

  The scene replayed in my mind, and suddenly Poppa’s voice echoed, telling the legend of Thunder and Snow. I closed my eyes and saw him as he was that night when he had first related the tale. The story unfolded in my mind.

  There once were two brothers named Snow and Thunder. Thunder had huge wings. When they flapped, lightning bolts shot from beneath.

  Thunder was covered with silver gray feathers; Snow with pure white ones. The brothers were best of friends and hunted together through every season. One day they were out hunting and spied a beautiful Indian maiden. Both brothers fell in love with her at first sight. They began to quarrel, both wanting to ask for her hand in marriage. Neither brother backed down. Thunder roared out his anger and lightning flashed beneath his wings. As they fought, Thunder tore feathers from the wings of Snow, and they floated to the ground.

  Snow fought back, becoming a blinding blizzard. The Indian maiden’s father was frightened as Snow and Thunder destroyed everything in their path, and he hurried to protect his daughter from the fierce fight. But in their blinding anger, Snow and Thunder did not see him and struck him down. The maiden ran to her father and cradled him in her arms as he gasped his last breath.

  Grief stricken, she wailed all night, mourning the death of her beloved father. With the break of day, her sadness turned to anger. Thunder and Snow fled from her wrath. Snow fled to the north and Thunder to the south, never again to be friends, never again to hunt together, never again to be true brothers. Sometimes their blinding anger returns, and they renew their fight, each blaming the other for the death of the Indian maiden’s father. That’s when you hear the roar of Thunder and see flashes of lightning, and Snow’s feathers float to the earth. And in the wind, you still hear the wail of the Indian maiden, mourning her beloved father.

  My chin trembled and tears seeped from the corners of my closed eyes. Why had I thought of the old story? Dan and Michael were nothing like the legend. Dan was not in love with me. And Poppa was gone long ago, far beyond the hurts of this world.

  Laurie’s voice sounded beside me, and I opened my eyes.

  “You okay, Jay?”

  I blinked for a moment and automatically held out my arms to James Colton. He climbed in my lap, and I held him close until he began to wriggle, impatient to get down and play.

  “I’m fine,” I said to Laurie, releasing my son.

  He ran down the steps and into the yard.

  She eyed me skeptically, squinting and tilting her head, making a faint snorting sound.

  “I was just thinking of Poppa,” I explained.

  “Oh.” She took a seat on the swing, still studying me. “You look a little white around the gills.”

  I hated to tell her, knowing how she longed for a baby. I had to blink back more tears. It didn’t seem fair that she and Walter had been trying for years, and I got pregnant so easily. I licked my lips and started to speak, but Laurie stopped me.

  “You’re going to have a baby.” She said it flatly, without a trace of joy.

  “Laurie ...”

  She again held up a hand. “I’ll be happy for you, as soon as I quit feeling sorry for myself. It’s nothing to do with you.” She looked into the distance, turning her head away from me.

  I couldn’t tell if she cried or not. I wanted to comfort her but was afraid of her reaction. Would she get angry or break down?

  She was speaking again, explaining. “I suspected last night when Mike showed up at my door. You could’ve knocked me over with a feather. He
wasn’t exactly cordial, but he spoke decently enough, asked me to let James Colton spend the night. Knew then something was wrong with you, or he’d never have asked.”

  “I fell asleep before he got back and haven’t seen him. I’m getting worried.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “He can take care of himself. He’s been roaming the woods every day, even when it’s pouring rain. Betcha he went somewhere on the truck. It ain’t here.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t noticed the truck was gone. Nausea struck again. I gagged and made it to the end of the porch before throwing up the water I had sipped on. I wiped my face with my handkerchief and turned to find Laurie was on her feet.

  “I can go look for Mike if you want me to.”

  “No. He’ll come back when he gets ready. Do you have any lemons?”

  “Not fresh lemons, but I have lemon juice.”

  “Any crackers?”

  “I always keep crackers on hand. Walter often eats crackers and peanut butter for supper.”

  The mention of peanut butter made me gag.

  Laurie laid a hand on my arm. “Sorry, Jay. Let me run home. I’ll be back in a minute.”

  “All right.”

  She left, and I watched James Colton running circles in the yard, laughing and giggling, as if playing with imaginary friends. The sound of a truck reached my ears before I actually saw it, and I called James Colton.

  He scurried up the steps as Michael’s truck turned in.

  Chapter 22—Coby Returns

  Michael opened the cab door and climbed out, patting his knee. I stretched my neck to see, hoping. It was Coby. He raced in a frenzied circle around the yard, and I raced down the steps and sank to my knees. Coby whined, kissing my face and hands. James Colton was beside me, reaching his hand, trying to pet the squirming dog, and laughing with delight. Coby gave him an exuberant greeting, too. Michael stood a few feet away and watched. When my dog finally calmed, I got to my feet and gave Michael a hug, my throat too tight to allow any words to pass.