by Austin Boyd
Laura Ann took a long breath, then pursed her lips while she tried to think of a way to ask her next question. Sophia watched her with an intense focus, like she had some innate ability to see into Laura Ann’s heart, to know what words would slip from her lips.
“I lost him three and a half years ago,” Sophia said, guessing her question. “He passed away suddenly. A stroke.” She wiped at a tear, her head lowered. “One day we were shopping for Christmas gifts, the next he was gone.”
“I’m sorry — “
Sophia reached across the table and touched her hand. “I’m glad that we had a chance to meet, Laura Ann. James would have enjoyed getting to know you.” She chuckled. “He loved machines. He’d be right at home on your tractor.”
Laura Ann nodded. She understood that about men. Daddy commented once that Ian came to the farm every Saturday just to drive the equipment. She agreed with him then, but preferred now to think that he’d been courting her all those Saturdays. The memory of Ian stole her smile and she lowered her head, staring into her glass of milk.
“Are you okay?” Sophia asked, touching her hand again.
Laura Ann nodded. “I’m missing something. Something big. And it hurts.”
“What?”
“I have a friend — “
“Just a friend?” Sophia asked.
Laura Ann looked up to see her smile again. She shook her head. “More than a friend. Much more.” “What are you missing?”
“Actually, I haven’t missed it yet. Dinner. On Friday. At a fancy restaurant in Parkersburg, but — “
Sophia nodded. “Surely we’ll be able to get out by then …”
Laura Ann felt her own eyes go wet. “Something will work out. It has to.”
“Planning a special evening?”
Laura Ann nodded, then looked down at her empty ring finger. “Very special.”
“We have power!” Sophia exclaimed from the living room, pushing a button on the front of the television. “And TV!”
Laura Ann smiled, amazed at the impact of something as simple as electricity. Daddy’s emergency generator came in handy on occasion, and she confessed, bringing the well pump back on line was nice too. No more hand pumping their water out in the barn.
Laura Ann dropped a bag of old jeans on the floor where Sophia sat scanning for a news broadcast. “I’m cutting denim today. For my stools.” She held a pair of scissors in her visitor’s direction. “Want to help?”
“Stools?” Sophia asked, picking a torn pair of jeans out of the sack.
“My mortgage. Fifty stools a month to feed the bank. Fifty dollars each. I cut the denim into strips and weave a seat.”
“Then hand me those scissors and let’s get going,” Sophia replied. She dove into the bag and pulled out a pair of worker’s jeans, covered in white paint. “These too?”
Laura Ann shook her head. “Don’t bother. They’re junk.”
An hour and six pairs of jeans later, the pile of inch-wide strips on the floor grew sizable, a sure sign of progress. Sophia held up the last of her most recent pair, portions of the belt loops and zipper unusable in the process. “Another one down. And a blister on my right hand.”
Laura Ann laughed, pointing her toward the sewing machine in the corner. “If you’d like a break, we have to stitch these together into a single strip.”
“I have no idea how to use one of those things,” Sophia said with a laugh while pointing at the antique electric Singer. “You are one talented woman.”
“Because I can sew?”
“That and more. Look at this,” she said, moving to the front window and pointing out at the pasture. Cows made their way across lush green grass in the downpour. “You run an entire farm, build furniture, and inside” — she said, pointing at shelves of classic novels — “you run a small library.” She crossed the room to pat Laura Ann on the back. “Any man who catches you is one lucky fellow.”
Laura Ann sat up at that last comment, dropping the cuttings in her lap. She stared out the window in the direction of the cows, and the ridge in the distance.
“What? I said something I shouldn’t have?” Sophia asked, her ebullient spirit diminished for a moment. Her hand rested on Laura Ann’s tense shoulder.
“Oh, nothing.”
“I might have been raised in another country, “ she said, walking around Laura Ann to sit cross-legged in front of her, “but I’m still a woman.” A white cotton top billowed over her jeans like an upside-down lily when she settled to the floor. “There’s a man standing out in that field. And you’re looking right at him.”
“How do you do that?” Laura Ann asked with a chuckle, turning back to face her. “ESP. I’m psychic.”
Laura Ann frowned, setting her shoulders square and cocking her head a bit.
“Just kidding. But I do sense things about people.” She tapped Laura Ann on the knee and smiled a broad toothy grin. “Part of you is growing inside me, girlfriend. I’m sure that has something to do with our connection.”
Laura Ann nodded and her frown relented. “Maybe.”
“No ‘maybes’ about it.” Her smile stole away fear.
“Alright.” Laura Ann’s turn to blush. “His name is Ian. He’s the game warden. We’ve known each other since kindergarten.”
Sophia’s silence and inviting eyes demanded more.
“He came to visit every Saturday for the past six years. Checking in — that’s what Daddy called it. All through high school and after we graduated. He’d get a haircut every weekend and come here next. Know what I used to associate with his visits?” Laura Ann asked, loosing a giggle.
“I’m all ears.”
“Wildroot Cream Oil. An old barber hair tonic. I’ll always remember that smell, like it announces that Ian’s in the room.” She paused, looking out the window in the direction of the man she dreamed would land on her porch this moment. “I don’t smell it on him much anymore. New barber, I guess.” She paused, then added, “I wish he’d use it again.”
“Where is he now?”
Laura Ann shrugged, her eyes misting. She bit her lip and tilted her head in the direction of the window. “He’d be here if there was any way. I know it.”
Red, orange, yellow. Green, blue, violet. Bands of translucent color, blended together in a pair of brilliant crescents, arced across the western horizon. Beyond the dazzling double rainbow, the bases of clouds burned with color. Splashes of purple and pink colored the low evening sky, reaching to the blazing ball of red that descended behind a distant western ridge. In all her days gazing at sunsets with Daddy, many of them while working in the fields, Laura Ann had never seen God’s handiwork arrayed in such awesome splendor. She stood on the porch with Sophia, the two of them transfixed, watching the distant red ball sink and draw a dark shade across the base of the clouds. With each minute, the rainbow faded, its sun source sinking beyond sight.
Moments after the red disappeared the sky blazed a black-purple, like the deep violet juice of a ripe muscadine grape dripping from the bases of fleeing clouds. A blaze of indigo retreated into the west and towed the dark of night behind it. Half an hour later only a dull purple remained where the sun set moments ago.
The last vestige of the day.
And the end of the storm.
CHAPTER 14
JUNE 26
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
A hand brushed against her cheek. Somewhere in the fairyland between dreams and waking, she could smell him. That cloves-sweet scent, fresh from the barber. A hand warmed her cheek. Rough fingers. Wet. Laura Ann fought the dream, struggling to reach out to the fragrance she knew so well in her heart, but could not verbalize.
“Time to wake up.”
The voice was deep bass, smooth, and commanding. It called to a warm spot deep inside. She felt the sure grip of a hand that once held hers. And a kiss. The scent of cloves and lanolin pulled at her with the strength of a ship’s hawser, towing her to consciousness. Lips touched hers a
second time. Warmth against her warmth.
Her eyes opened. Ian hung in the air, suspended above her, his breath on her cheek, the moist of his kiss still fresh on her mouth. He smiled.
“Still dreaming?” he asked. He squeezed her hand again, a reassuring hold she’d not felt for days.
Laura Ann smiled, opening her eyes fully. She grabbed at her sheet and pulled it up to her neck, returning his grip with her other hand. “Tell me you’re real. I need to hear that.”
He bent over again in the dim light of early morn and kissed her a third time, a long embrace, kneeling at her side in the dark bedroom.
Laura Ann raised her free hand and placed it on his face, stroking the smooth skin of a fresh shave, marveling at his lines in the early light. Her fingers ran across sharp cheekbones down to a prominent chin. They crossed thin lips that curled when her caress tickled them. He reached up and took her hand.
“Surprised?” he asked, pulling her toward the edge of the bed, her face close to his. He whispered, as if he knew she had visitors.
“Yes!”
“Thought you would be. Didn’t know you had company.” He laid a hand on her side to tickle her. “Who is he?” “Ian! You know better.”
“Just kidding.” He pointed at the window near her bed. “I thought about tapping on it to wake you up when I saw the Lexus. But the door was unlocked, so I let myself in. Couldn’t resist the temptation to wake you. I’m surprised you’re not in the barn already.”
“No need. Rain’s stopped, cows will be out. I decided to sleep in.”
“I’m glad. Do you wonder how I got here?”
“Just about to ask,” she said, putting a finger to his mouth. “But don’t tell me yet. Meet me in the kitchen. Now shoo!”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ian rose and squeezed her hand once more, then bent and kissed her again. She put a hand to his face, holding him in place for a long time, desperate to pull him tighter, but worried she might be found out. Of all the days …
Five minutes later, freshened from the bathroom, she joined Ian in the kitchen. She wrapped her night coat about her and pulled the belt tight, then threw her arms about him. Ian lifted her off her feet, twirling her in the kitchen, his head nuzzled into the base of her neck and shoulder. “I missed you,” he said, squeezing her tight.
Laura Ann sniffled, her joy pouring out of her eyes after two days of pain, weather, worry—and remarkable revelations. Mental images of Sophia came to mind and she stiffened, dragging her feet on the floor to slow his twirl. She pushed away.
“What is it?” he asked.
She glanced down the hall, then put a finger to her lips. “Shhh. She might wake.”
Ian stopped, then crossed his arms. “She who?”
“A friend.”
“You can do better than that, Laura Ann. I can read you like a book. What’s her name?”
Laura Ann grimaced, glancing down the hall a second time, then moved toward him, pushing toward the back stoop. “Let’s talk outside.”
“No.” Ian was emphatic and pulled a chair from the table, guiding her into it. His grip was gentle, but firm. “We need to talk. Something’s not right. I braved a raging river to reach my damsel and now she’s acting all mysterious.” Ian’s countenance soured, and he added, “So, who is he?”
Laura Ann wilted, her face in her hands. “No one you know. And it’s a woman. A friend.”
“Her name is?”
“Sophia. Sophia McQuistion. From Pittsburgh.”
“Okay. But you’ve never mentioned her. Why’s she here?”
“Twenty questions?” Laura Ann asked, her voice squeaking. She looked up into his eyes, a strange distrust there that she’d not seen before. He moved back from her.
“It’s a valid question. A Lexus in Tyler County? On your farm, spending the night?”
“She was locked in when the low water crossing washed out.”
“I can buy that. The causeway’s a goner.”
Laura Ann took a deep breath, then placed a hand on his knee. He tensed. “Can we start over? Somewhere around that last kiss in my bedroom?”
“I’d like that.”
“Her name is Sophia. She’s a woman I helped once in Morgantown, and she dropped in unannounced to thank me. She intended to just stop in and say ‘hi,’ then head over to the Wells Inn for the night. But it started raining, and — “
“Great. So why the secrecy?”
“I’m sorry, okay? I’m just surprised—pleasantly surprised — that you’re here.”
“I’m not convinced, but I’ll believe you. So, want to know how I did it?”
“I have an idea. But I don’t think you swam,” she said with a chuckle.
“That logjam’s a doozy. I scoped it out yesterday, then waited for the water to recede. It’s not down much, though. Put in above the logs with my canoe, and pulled it out below the farmhouse. I was able to paddle all the way up through the pasture. Got a little wet wading the last bit to the house, though. It’s a mess out there.”
“Did Granny Apple tell you I was okay?” she asked, pressing her hands into his.
“She did. Called me right after you waved at her. That was a relief.” He let go of her hand and ran his fingers through her hair, still tangled from sleep.
“What about you?” she asked. “How is it in town?”
Ian shook his head in silence, his jaw clenched.
“Middlebourne?” she asked.
“The Middle Island crested thirty-one feet above flood stage, Laura Ann. It wiped out West Union. The west side of Middlebourne is under water, lots of homes completely covered. Main Street is high and dry, but Route 18 is cut off in a couple of places. Entire homes went down the creek. It’s lots worse than the 1950 flood. Much worse.” He paused. “But you don’t seem much worse for wear.” His gaze lacked the usual openness, even the warm touch she’d seen when she opened her eyes in the bed. He seemed distant.
“Granny Apple?”
“She’s fine. Couldn’t hurt that woman. She’s been helping folks up and down the creek through all this. Your aunt Rose and uncle Jack are fine too. Water just missed ‘em.”
“And your place?”
“My house is okay. Soggy but solid.” He looked down the hall, then back at Laura Ann. “So, do I get to meet her?”
She tarried a moment, then took his hands. “Yes.”
“Great. I have to be at work by ten. I called and told them I’d be late. All the county officials are on emergency duty, but they know I’m out here checking on you. The only other way is to drop in with a helicopter, but all the birds are busy.”
“Are you serious?”
“Serious as a heart attack. I tried hard to get a chopper to fly in last night, but all of the assets were on rescue duty. We pulled up the flood maps and figured you’d be dry. But I’d have come swooping down in a whirlybird if I’d had my way.”
She pressed his hands, pulling him forward. She stood and tugged him into an embrace. “I’m sorry. I just worry — “
Ian held her tight, but not the usual way. “No, Laura Ann. You never worry. That’s what’s got me so confused. This lady must be a piece of work.”
“She is.” A voice spoke from behind her. Laura Ann flinched, tensing in his arms and trying to spin about.
“I’m Sophia McQuistion. You must be Ian.”
Laura Ann looked up at Ian, his face a bright red. He released her but held her hand. His grip seemed almost forced, like he wanted Sophia to see them connecting. That warmed her, and she pulled tight to him.
“Yes, ma’am. I hope that Laura Ann told you something about me.” He looked down at her, then back at Sophia.
“Not just told,” Sophia replied. “More like ‘gushed.’ “ She smiled. “I’m sorry I interrupted. I heard voices.”
Laura Ann stared at her, in desperate hope that Sophia would get this point: “Don’t tell.” A moment later, Sophia winked, then nodded and opened her arms toward Ian.
“We
need to get you some breakfast. You must have worked hard to get here this time of day.” She looked at Laura Ann, then back to Ian. “What time is it?”
“Six fifteen, ma’am.”
“Please. Call me Sophia. I’m certainly not old enough to be your mother.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ian smiled. “Not much power ‘round here. Want me to fire up the generator?” He tugged at Laura Ann for an answer.
She nodded, then put a hand to his shoulder and stood on tiptoe, putting her lips to his. “Thank you.”
After Ian departed the kitchen, Sophia padded across the floor closer to Laura Ann. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was concerned. Chalk it up to pregnant nerves.”
Laura Ann forced a smile, then spoke. “He can’t know.”
Lights flickered, then came on in the kitchen. Ian would be back soon. Sophia nodded, then added, “Secrets won’t help, Laura Ann. Remember, you did a courageous thing.”
“Thank you. But I need to tell him in my own way. Okay?”
She nodded. “What does Ian like for breakfast?”
Laura Ann smiled, her first sense of relief since Ian’s waking kiss. She gave Sophia a hug. “Biscuits and sausage,” she said, releasing her and pointing to the refrigerator. “But now that we have some power for the blender, some salsa and a breakfast burrito would be a nice surprise.”
“I don’t understand your uncle Jack,” Ian said, driving the farm truck with Laura Ann in the middle and Sophia seated by the door. “Everyone in town is on a wartime footing while they fight this flood, and none of them are happy. But you’d think he’d won the lottery. He’s so happy he’s delirious. It’s weird.”
“My uncle is a weird man,” Laura Ann replied. “And mean.”
“Why’s that?” Sophia asked.
“Long story. Three-course dinner,” Ian said. “But I’ll take a rain check,” he added, patting his stomach.
“My uncle lives by the belief that ‘It’s all about me,’ “ Laura Ann said, tapping Ian on the knee. “I’ll cook that dinner and we’ll tell her all about our experiences. Including barn fires.”