Fading Thunder

by Sheila Hollinghead

  “Umm ... can you give her a message? This is her niece, Sarah Jane.”

  “Hold on a moment. She’s been waiting for your call.”

  Confused, I stared at the black receiver in my hand. Had I somehow been connected to a wrong number? But in a moment, Aunt Liza’s voice came over the line.

  “Good morning, Jay.”

  Her voice was muffled, as if she spoke through a handkerchief. A tattoo of panic beat at the base of my throat. “Are you okay, Aunt Liza? Is Uncle Howard okay?”

  “Your Uncle Howard is better. So much better!” She began to sob.

  “He is? Aunt Liza?” Only silence came over the line.

  The other voice spoke again. “Your aunt wanted me to tell you that your uncle passed away this morning, around four o’clock.”

  I held the phone in a vice grip. “Uncle Howard? My Uncle Howard?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I put the phone down without saying goodbye. I went back to Marla and J.C., holding out my arms to my son. I knelt and held him close, my hands trembling.

  “Is anything wrong, Jay?” Mr. Drake asked.

  He had moved next to me and laid a hand on my back.

  I cleared my throat, searching for Marla. “Uncle Howard died early this morning.”

  “Oh, Jay!”

  My eyes were dry, unable to shed tears for what my mind could not comprehend. We had seen Uncle Howard yesterday, sat at his table, spoken to him ... and today he was gone.

  When I stood, Marla led me to a chair, and J.C. climbed into my lap. He was being still, not his normal squirmy self, as if he sensed my need for comfort. I looked up at Marla. “I need to go to Aunt Liza. She needs me.”

  She nodded her head in understanding. “Come eat breakfast first. You’ll need your strength.”

  I followed her into the dining room, ushering J.C. ahead of me. “Where’s Grace?”

  “Momma and Daddy sent for her. Daddy had some matters to discuss.”

  I nodded my head and took a seat at the table. J.C. climbed onto the chair next to me, and Marla sat on the other side. Mr. Drake didn’t join us. Marla passed the dishes to me. I’m sure the food was delicious, but I didn’t taste a single morsel. I was only glad when it was over and we could go.

  Marla drove us over, and we went in together.

  The house was crowded with neighbors speaking softly. Aunt Liza sat in a rocking chair in a corner, surrounded by people. I held back, not wanting to interrupt those speaking to her. When she looked up and caught sight of me, she stood and held out her arms. I walked into them, and we held each other tightly, each of us sobbing. She pulled away, wiping her face with her handkerchief. I fumbled for mine, tucked into the belt of my dress, drying my own tears. I moved aside so Marla could give my aunt a hug. Someone brought me a chair so I could sit beside Aunt Liza, to hold her hand.

  She explained how she awoke when Uncle Howard gasped. By the time she had summoned help, he was gone. She hadn’t called me because she knew there was nothing I could do.

  Some people left, others came, bringing food. Aunt Liza refused to eat, and I didn’t have an appetite either. Uncle Colt had been called, and he was on his way with Aunt Jenny, Laurie, and William. J.C. began to get restless.

  Marla left with J.C., taking him back to Mr. Drake’s, hopefully to get him down for a nap. She told me she would check on Zeke and tell him about Uncle Howard.

  Uncle Colt and the rest of the family arrived. I was disappointed Michael was not with them. I pulled William aside and asked if he had seen him.

  “Sorry, not today. Momma called your house, but there was no answer.”

  I searched his face. “Did anyone go over?”

  “Yeah. Daddy went. No one was home. But I saw Michael yesterday, walking near your house.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t speak to him. But he’ll be okay. Things were bad where we were in France, but I heard the conditions in the Pacific were horrific. Once you’ve seen what we’ve seen, it changes you. It takes a while to adjust. I’m still adjusting, and I’ve been home a good while.”

  I searched his eyes. “You seem fine —”

  “It’s easy to pretend. Breaking down would solve nothing.” He shrugged his shoulders, his face clouding.

  “Michael’s not breaking down. He’s just ... I don’t know ... irritable, and he doesn’t want to talk about the war.”

  “None I know want to speak of it. It was man’s depravity at its worse.”

  “But to bottle it all up? It can’t be good for you.”

  “Maybe. But that’s how most guys handle it. I do know this — some men, after being held down in foxholes, bullets flying overhead, can’t stand enclosed spaces. They get restless. It’s like we have been all hyped up, senses on alert all the time, and suddenly we’re back home in safety, but our bodies have gotten used to the sensation of danger. We no longer know how to relax, have normal conversations, go back to the lives we once had. We’re restless.” He laughed harshly. “Perhaps missing the battle.” His eyebrows rose, as if questioning me, and he tilted his head.

  I was silent for a moment, pondering what he had said. “I understand a little, but I don’t know why Michael refuses to restrain Argos.”

  “The same thing happened to that dog that happened to all of us. Michael knows restraining him will only induce more anxiety.”

  “But to put his family in danger?”

  He patted my arm. “Be patient. He’ll come around.”

  “I’m not sure.” The words made my heart constrict — a pain so intense, I placed a hand to my chest, willing it away.

  “He’s trying to figure things out. Give him time.”

  Only then did I wonder about Momma. “Where’s Momma?”

  “Mrs. Yard offered to come over and stay with her. Your momma refused to come to the funeral.”

  I grimaced. “Sounds like Momma.”

  He put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. “Life is hard, little double cousin of mine. But we’ll make it together.”

  Hadn’t that been what I’d learned a couple of years ago, when William’s wife made everyone miserable? We had to count on families and friends.

  Uncle Colt, from across the room, motioned to his son, and William moved away to join him, speaking to a man I didn’t recognize. I wandered outside to the cedar tree where my dog Chance was buried. He’d been killed, run over by someone, and Michael and Dan had buried him here. I wanted to talk to Michael, to speak of Chance, reminisce about Uncle Howard, accept his comfort.

  Uncle Howard had been so kind to me and also to Zeke. After saying a little prayer where Chance lay buried, I kept walking, down to the old barn. It had been empty a long time. Cobwebs hung from the rafters into every corner. I ventured in a little farther, lost in my thoughts.

  A man, deep inside the long barn, leaned against one of the doors, staring into the empty stall. My heart leapt to my throat. But it wasn’t Michael. When he turned, I saw his face clearly.

  It was Dan.

  Chapter 15—Dan

  “Dan! What are you doing here?”

  He smiled, that long, lazy smile that brought the women running. “The same as everyone. I came to pay my respects to your aunt.”

  I wrinkled my nose and snorted. “You won’t find her out here.”

  “I’ve already been to the house. I walked to the barn, thinking about when we were younger. So long ago, but it seems like yesterday.”

  “You make us sound ancient. I’m only twenty-four.”

  His dimples deepened. “And as beautiful as ever.”

  I made a face at him and moved away. Michael wouldn’t like Dan speaking to me like this.

  “Where’re you going?” He caught up with me and took my arm before I made it out of the barn.

  I shook him off. “I need to get back to the house.” I quickened my pace.

  “Wait, Jay. I wanted to talk to you.”

  I continued into the sunshine, and he followed me. I turned to
face him. “It’s too hot out. I’m going back in.”

  “Come for a ride with me? I’ve got Marla’s Cadillac.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “Your wife is at home, watching my child. I’m not going for a ride with you. And what if Michael were to show up?” Things were bad enough without him catching me with Dan, no matter how innocent it might be.

  “I need someone to talk to. Just a quick ride? It’s the middle of the day. What do you think I’m going to do?”

  “It’s not what you might do. People will see us. People talk.”

  “I can drive toward the pond. There’s a dirt road where no one lives.”

  I shook my head at him.

  “What? You don’t trust me?”

  I considered his words for a second. To tell the truth, Dan was one of the few people I did trust. He had married my best friend, and had always been there for me — except when we were much younger. But what would Michael think? He had once been insecure, afraid Dan would lure me away.

  But that wasn’t true, even when I had dated Dan. Michael was the one I had always loved, even now when things were strained between us. No one could ever replace Michael, certainly not Dan, no matter how kind he was.

  And hadn’t I learned my lesson? That I should trust people? When I had seen Uncle Aaron with William’s wife, I had jumped to all sorts of wrong conclusions. I needed to give people the benefit of the doubt, learn to trust, not think everyone was bad.

  And then there was the thought of a ride in that car again, with the cooling air conditioner. Today had been a scorcher. Why not go for a cooling drive in a Cadillac? “All right,” I finally said.

  “You wait here. I’ll pull the car around.”

  I nodded. No one else had ventured down here to the barn. We’d be away from prying eyes — not that we were doing anything wrong.

  Dan returned with the car. I didn’t wait for him to get out but jumped in as soon as he came to a stop. He drove without speaking. I wondered why he had asked me to go for a ride if he was going to drive in silence. At least it was cool in the car, and the drive was pleasant down the dirt road, dense forest growth giving way to fields.

  “What did you want to talk about?” I asked. “I need to get back. People will wonder where I’ve gone.”

  His hazel eyes, the outer iris a dark green, cut in my direction. His hair was short, in the military style, even though he had been out of the army for a few months now. He was clean-shaven and as fit as the last time I had seen him. He fixed his gaze on the road. “I wanted to ask you about Marla. How much do you know?”

  “About what?”

  “About her affair with my uncle.”

  I could only stare at him dumbly for a moment. Marla, having an affair with Matthew Drake? The idea was ludicrous. Yet, hadn’t I wondered at her behavior myself? Still, it wasn’t possible.

  When I found my voice, I spoke. “I can’t believe Marla is having an affair, especially with your uncle.”

  “Something wrong with my uncle?” He raised his eyebrows.

  “Besides the fact he’s old enough to be her father? Older, probably, than her own father?” I frowned at him. How could he believe Marla would have an affair with Mr. Drake?

  “That’s never stopped women before — especially if the guy has money.”

  “Why would that persuade Marla? Don’t you have money?” I tightened my lips and sent him a wry glance.

  “I have a little ... maybe she wants more.” He flashed a smile but his eyes remained sad.

  I pondered that for a moment. Marla always wore the latest styles. She’d redecorated the farmhouse after Dan’s father had died and had a love for fancy cars. Yet she never flaunted her money, not that I had noticed. I shook my head. “If she wanted more, it’s something I’m not aware of. I don’t know what problems y’all are having — except your affair with Sylvia. If you would confess, I’m sure Marla will forgive you.”

  “Why do you think I had an affair?”

  “Sylvia said —”

  He sputtered and tilted his head back to laugh harshly. “Sylvia is so reliable and trustworthy.”

  “It’s not only Sylvia’s word. Michael called you. I think it was when your father died? He said you admitted Joe Joe was your son.”

  Dan laughed harshly but nodded his head. “I did tell Michael that, but I lied.”

  “You lied? Why would you lie?”

  “Marla asked me to.”

  “Marla asked you to lie?” I had turned fully to face him, my hand clawing into the upholstery, as if to grip something real. “Why?”

  He pressed his lips tightly together, and I thought for a moment he wasn’t going to answer. Then he softly sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe because you were so sure it was Mike — perhaps she thought it would help your marriage if I took the fall.”

  “You did it without questioning?”

  “I love Marla. I trusted her and thought she knew what she was doing.” He cut his eyes at me again. “She’s very smart.”

  I was trying to reconcile this new facet of Marla with what I knew of her. It did not fit, and I could no more make it fit than when J.C. tried to force a puzzle piece into the wrong spot. “Dan, I want to believe you, but I’ve known Marla a long time. She’s never lied to me! I’ve never known anyone so good, almost perfect.”

  One side of his lip curled upward into a semblance of a smile. “And don’t you find that strange?”

  He pulled into a dirt drive leading to a gate and then backed into the road, turning the car around. He drove back to my aunt’s in silence, stopping at the barn instead of driving to the house. Only then did he speak. “Jay, you’ve known me a long time. I’ve done things I’m ashamed of, but I hope I’ve made amends. If you can help me —”

  I held up a hand to interrupt. “Why do you need my help?”

  “I love Marla. I don’t want a divorce.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears.

  I searched his eyes, and he met mine without embarrassment. I looked away before I spoke.

  “All right. I’ll try to help. I’ll keep my eyes open, and I’ll let you know if I see anything unusual.”

  “Thank you, Jay.” His voice was hushed and hoarse.

  “I do have a question for you.” I bit my lip, afraid to ask.

  He swallowed. “What? Ask me anything.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If you’re not Joe Joe’s father, who is?”

  He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. Wish I did.”

  When he started to get out, to open my door, I stopped him. “No. I can do it. Thanks.” It was awkward, opening the door with my left hand, but I got it open and slammed it shut.

  He drove away, and I watched him until he was out of sight.

  Chapter 16—Lies and Surprises

  So many thoughts swirled that I couldn’t make sense of them all. Marla having an affair, supposedly with his uncle; Dan not having an affair with Sylvia, when I’d been so sure ... Michael had been sure, too, hadn’t he? I could not wrap my mind around how Dan had so easily lied about it. Marla had asked, and he had lied. Had she really lied to help my marriage? I could almost see her lying for a good reason ... but not quite. I had never seen her lie. Never! All these years I had known her ... But why would Dan tell me these things if they weren’t true?

  Did everyone lie?

  I shook my head, as thickly cobwebbed as the old barn had been. Well, I had promised to help Dan, and I would, if he thought it would help his marriage. Maybe he was lying about that ... but he hadn’t seemed to be.

  I blew out a deep breath, my head spinning. I would think about it all later, after Uncle Howard’s funeral. Aunt Liza needed me, and I would be there for her.

  As it turned out, Aunt Liza needed me longer than I anticipated. The days turned into weeks that passed slowly, excruciatingly. After the funeral was over, after we thought the worse was done with, Aunt Liza announced she was selling her house and moving to Covington County to be n
ear Uncle Colt. No one could persuade her to take more time to decide.

  She refused to listen and had a For Sale sign in her front yard the day after the funeral. As it turned out, her house sold quickly. Discharged soldiers with young families were in dire need of housing. And being so close to an army base probably helped the house to sell.

  Marla and Grace helped her pack, along with a couple of her old friends, and I did what I could. Uncle Colt came back with a flatbed truck, with William and Walter to help. They loaded the truck and drove away. Aunt Liza followed behind in her old car.

  I felt more bereft than when Uncle Howard had died, a brief three weeks ago. How life could change so quickly, so completely, in such a short time was hard to grasp. Zeke and J.C. were with me, at least. Zeke had been released in time to attend Uncle Howard’s funeral. Marla, Grace, Zeke, J.C., and I had come to see Aunt Liza on her way.

  There was nothing left here for us now, at this house that had offered hope after Poppa had died. Zeke and I took one last look around before we climbed into Marla’s car and drove back to Mr. Drake’s.

  We had been very busy, but I had squeezed in Zeke’s doctor’s appointments and tests and had also gone to the doctor with J.C. Both of us had had our stitches removed. I was glad to be rid of bandages and the sling I had worn. J.C. and I were healing, and scars were forming. Scars weren’t all bad. At least they were evidence that we had healed.

  The results from Zeke’s tests were long in coming. Worry gnawed until I felt nauseated half the time. I would be glad when the doctors finally knew what had caused his heart to stop during surgery. If Zeke was worried, he didn’t show it. Always quiet and watchful, he became more so in the presence of Marla and her sister, but he was calm, showing no nervousness.

  There was nothing to do but wait. Staying at the Drake house was like a vacation. One morning, Marla and I were sitting outside in the shade of the large willow trees. The French chef, whom I had discovered was named Aliénor Beaulieu, had made us a pot of coffee and what she called choux à la crème. Marla poured me a cup of coffee, and I took a bite of the pastry, reveling in its flaky crust filled with whipped cream and custard. The whole concoction was drenched in caramel. I picked up my coffee, breathing in its heavenly aroma. J.C. was playing chase with Grace on the lawn in front of us. Zeke sat behind us, farther into the shade, under the curving branches of the willow. I enjoyed the view, the green expanse of lawn that ended at a line of crepe myrtles. Beyond the crepe myrtles lay the fields, and a nice stand of corn was already knee-high.