Fading Thunder

by Sheila Hollinghead

  I took another bite of the rich dessert and another sip of coffee. A wave of nausea washed over me. I set the cup down and leaned forward, my head between my knees, breathing heavily, willing it to pass. But the feeling intensified.

  I scrambled out of the chair and stumbled a few feet away, falling on my knees and vomiting into the cool, green grass. Though muffled by the sounds of my gagging, I could hear Marla barking orders. I was still bent over when a cool washcloth was placed in my hands. I wiped my face, but the dizziness continued.

  Marla was at my side, rubbing my back. “Are you okay, Jay?”

  I shook my head without lifting it. The nausea swept over me again. I climbed to my feet and made it to the edge of the yard, not wanting to vomit so close to Marla. Yet, she followed me, was at my elbow, steadying me, making soothing sounds. I turned my head to check on J.C. Grace had him in her arms. Zeke had gotten to his feet.

  I motioned weakly to Zeke. “Can you watch J.C.?”

  He nodded. I allowed Marla to lead me inside and up the stairs to my room. I lay down on the bed, and she went into the bathroom and returned with a fresh washcloth.

  I took it from her and wiped my face. “Thank you, Marla.” After a moment, when the worst of my weakness had subsided, I sat up and leaned against the headboard.

  Marla placed a hand on my forehead. “Do you have a stomach bug? You don’t feel as if you have a fever.”

  I shook my head. I already knew, with the first wave of nausea. “I’m expecting.”

  “Pregnant?” Her eyes widened. “Michael was home three days —”

  “Yeah,” I said wearily. “We ... only ...” I bit my lip. “Only one time before Argos bit me.”

  “One time? Are you sure you’re in the family way?” She eyed me anxiously.

  “I’m sure.” Another bout of sickness hit, and I swung my legs off the bed and raced to the bathroom, wishing I could vomit more quietly. There was nothing left in my stomach, but I still wretched. My stomach muscles ached before I finally stopped.

  I washed my face and went back to the bedroom where Marla still waited.

  She insisted I climb in bed. I didn’t resist. She didn’t leave but took a seat in the chair by the window. I closed my eyes.

  When Michael found out, would he agree to give up Argos? As soon as Zeke’s tests were completed, I’d head home and tell him. See what his response would be.

  What if he still said no? Michael said Argos had saved his life countless times. No wonder he was so attached to the dog.

  I opened my eyes and looked at Marla. “I’m okay now. Will you tell Zeke? He might be worried.”

  “What do you want me to tell him?”

  “Don’t tell him I’m expecting. I have to let Michael know first.”

  “Do you want to call Michael?”

  “No. I’ll wait until I see him in person. It’ll only be a week or so, surely.”

  “All right. But what should I tell Zeke?”

  “Tell him — I don’t know. Can you make up something?”

  She nodded. “I’m sure I can think of something.”

  “All right. If I can rest an hour or so, I’ll feel better.”

  “Sure. Grace and I will help him keep an eye on J.C.”

  “Thanks, Marla.”

  She left, and I rolled over on my side considering the problem of Argos, even a greater problem now that I was pregnant. Michael didn’t want to cage the dog, afraid it would increase his aggressiveness. I didn’t want to endanger J.C., the new baby, or myself, for that matter. So what was the answer? Perhaps he could fence in an area, large enough that Argos wouldn’t feel entrapped. That might work.

  As a veterinarian, I had learned ways aggressive dogs needed to be treated. No direct eye contact, no running, no sudden motions. I had been guilty of doing all the wrong things — thumping his nose, speaking to him loudly, jumping up when I should have calmly remained sitting. What if I had been more patient?

  Was it because Argos looked so ... so ... what? He had been a warrior and had the scars to prove it. He had fought bravely for his country. No, not for his country, but to protect the men he shared a life with. No telling what lengths Michael had gone to, to bring him home. And I had attacked Argos, hitting him. Before that, perhaps he had bitten Coby, but it was a superficial wound. If I had stayed out of it, perhaps they could have settled who was top dog. It wouldn’t be Coby, not in the presence of Argos, the warrior. As soon as I got home, I would try to make amends.

  No, I didn’t have to wait until I got home, I could write Michael a letter now. I tentatively sat up, swinging my legs off the bed. I remained sitting until the dizziness left me. I’d have to check with Aliénor and see if she had lemons. A cup of hot lemonade would help me feel better — at least it had when I was pregnant with J.C.

  I sighed. That was another thing I had to do — call my son by his full name. I didn’t know why it was important to Michael, but it was. It wouldn’t take much effort to honor his wishes. James Colton it would be.

  I got to my feet and went downstairs, going first to the chef, asking for the hot lemonade. She was pleased to make me a cup and promised it would only be a few minutes. I wasn’t sure where everyone had gone. I looked out on the lawn where we had been sitting, and spied Zeke and James Colton. I was sure they were fine. Zeke would keep an eye on my son.

  While Aliénor made the lemonade, I could write Michael the letter. Probably the stationery was kept in Mr. Drake’s desk in the library. I felt a bit hesitant, but he had told me to make myself at home. Surely he wouldn’t mind if I borrowed a sheet of paper. I went to the doors and pushed them back, not expecting anyone to be in there at this time of day. I was wrong. Mr. Drake was there, and he held a woman in an embrace. She raised her eyes to mine, stricken.

  It was Marla.

  Chapter 17— Aliénor

  “Excuse me,” I mumbled, closing the doors hastily.

  I stood in the hallway for a moment, almost choking on my surprise, wondering what I should do.

  I couldn’t process what had happened, not now, not until I felt better.

  I made my way to the kitchen, knocking at the door before going in. Aliénor had my cup of lemonade ready.

  “Your drink, Madame.”

  “Thank you, Aliénor. Please, just call me Jay. Umm ... do you mind if I stay in here and drink it?” I was afraid Marla or Mr. Drake might come into the dining room.

  “C’est bien, Jay.”

  “Merci.” I had taken a year of French and knew a few basic phrases.

  The table was in the middle of the room, made of butcher block. One side did not have stools and was used by Aliénor as a workplace. I went around to the other side and slid onto a stool. The lemonade was delicious, much better than anything I had prepared when I was pregnant with James Colton.

  “What’s in this?” I asked.

  “A pinch of this and a pinch of that.” She smiled, her head tilted to the side. Her hair was pulled into a bun and a strand had worked loose, curling around her neck.

  I smiled back. “If you don’t mind sharing your secrets, I’d like to know, so I can make it when I get home. I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Oui. It is not a secret.” Her eyes crinkled in amusement. “Hot cayenne pepper, chopped very finely, just a touch.”

  “Cayenne pepper?” My face scrunched up as if I had bitten into a green persimmon. “I don’t think cayenne pepper is good for an upset stomach.”

  “Madame would be wrong. Cayenne pepper — très bon pour l’estomac.” She touched her stomach.

  I took another sip, letting the liquid swish in my mouth for a moment. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”

  “A bit of cinnamon. You have studied the biology? You have learned of the properties of the cinnamon?

  “I have studied biology, but we didn’t study cinnamon.”

  “Regulates the blood sugar — good for le vertige, also.”

  “Vertige?”

  “I
t is”—she twirled a finger around her head—“the ... dizzy?”

  “Oh, yes. Dizziness. Did you learn this in culinary school?”

  “Mais non. Your Indians. They know much medicinal information.”

  “Really? How did you learn from them?”

  She shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her hands. Her expression told me our talk was at an end.

  I finished my drink and took the cup to the sink, washing it out.

  Aliénor admonished me. “We have une jeune fille who washes.”

  I laughed. “I’m no stranger to washing dishes. I actually don’t mind at all.”

  She shook her head at me. “You are very strange, Madame.”

  “Jay. And thanks for the lemonade and sharing your recipe.”

  “Ce n’est pas grave, Jay.”

  I gave her a smile goodbye and went into the hallway, headed for the radio room. Perhaps Zeke and James Colton were in there. When I opened the door, I got another shock.

  Zeke and Grace were sitting on the couch, holding hands. I quickly composed my face, pretending I had not seen them. Zeke, in a natural gesture, not hurrying, pulled his hand from Grace’s grip and stood, moving toward the radio.

  “Feeling better?” he asked.

  James Colton was on the floor playing. Abbott and Costello was on the radio. Zeke switched it off and waited for me to answer.

  “Yes. The chef is amazing. She made me a special drink that settled my stomach.”

  “I hope whatever you have is not catching.” Grace looked slightly alarmed.

  I muffled a laugh and then frowned at her. I was irritated at her for holding my brother’s hand. He was only fourteen! She was sixteen and leading him on.

  And then I blushed, remembering I had been fourteen when Michael brought me to Plainsville. On the way there, he had pulled off the road, and we’d shared a kiss. Four-year-old Zeke had been asleep in the backseat. Yeah, I had been fourteen. But Grace was sixteen and after my little brother.

  And he had a heart condition!

  I breathed deeply, willing myself to calm down, telling myself I was being silly. My pregnancy had me flustered. Who wouldn’t be, after seeing what I had seen today? I sat on the floor with James Colton.

  “What are you playing?”

  He peeked at me, smiling. “Chutes and Ladders.”

  “How do you play?”

  He showed me. Zeke had stuck his hands in his pockets and taken a pose over by the radio. I caught him looking at Grace who seemed completely unperturbed. His look was one of complete adoration. For some reason, it made the tears prick the back of my eyes.

  Before I became a bawling mess, I helped James Colton gather up the game and put it away. “I’m going for a walk. Do y’all want to come?”

  They did not look at each other, but both shook their heads, as if in secret agreement.

  I went out but left the door open. Hopefully, they’d stay out of trouble.

  James Colton and I walked to the front entrance. I had not been out that way since I’d arrived — we had been using the back.

  James Colton and I went first into an enclosed area, etched glass on two sides and an etched glass door in front of us. It was unlocked, and we went onto the porch that stretched across the entire front and around the sides. The large tables in those two rounded, almost gazebo-like extensions, were large enough to seat ten comfortably, perhaps twelve. The tables were made of white marble with light gray streaks like tiny streams. James Colton pulled on me.

  “Come on, Momma.”

  I allowed him to lead me down the steps that widened on each level, sloping down to a sidewalk that led straight toward the drive. It branched into graceful curves on each side. We took the branch to the left that went down to a lower area. There was a shallow pool bordered with red brick. A fountain in the center sprayed water to a height of at least twenty feet. Goldfish, some white and gold, as large as bream, swam in the pool. James Colton was enthralled and wanted to splash in the water. We compromised. I allowed him to pull off his socks and shoes and sit on the edge, his feet swinging happily.

  I didn’t hear Dan until he spoke. “Having fun?”

  “I hope it’s okay ... it won’t hurt the fish?”

  “He’s fine.”

  There were several heavy, wrought iron benches alluringly placed, beckoning visitors to sit and enjoy the garden. Magnolia trees, dogwoods, and redbuds surrounded a patio area. Large pots with flowering plants and a few statues of mythological figures were there and beyond, into the grass where the trees grew.

  Dan nodded his head toward a bench. James Colton would be fine even if he tumbled into the shallow pool. I sat down where Dan had indicated, and he took a seat beside me.

  He searched my face, his eyes anxious. “Are you okay, Jay?”

  I should have put on makeup. I smoothed down my hair. “I’m fine.” I tried to make my voice bright. “I haven’t seen you since that day at Aunt Liza’s.”

  “I’ve been down to the farm, had to take care of some business. I got back last night.”

  “Oh. Did you see Michael, by any chance?”

  “No. I didn’t go over.”

  “All right.” I was disappointed. Michael didn’t need to cut ties with everyone, especially his oldest friend. Oldest friend? More like his oldest rival. I sighed.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

  I refocused on Dan and said my next words hurriedly, without thinking. “I came downstairs about an hour ago and opened the doors to the library. Your wife and uncle were embracing.”

  Dan’s look was veiled. He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, staring at the sidewalk.

  I touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dan. I can’t believe Marla would do such a thing.”

  “Maybe it was innocent? Just a hug?” He tilted his head toward me, his eyes hopeful.

  I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “That’s not what it looked like to me.”

  He sighed deeply. “Thanks, Jay. You only confirmed what I suspected.”

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I’ll try to talk to her, talk to my uncle. If Marla won’t go home with me, I reckon I’ll go back alone.” His voice was so forlorn, I wanted to comfort him in some way.

  I touched his arm until he glanced at me. “When I get home, you’re welcome to visit, anytime.”

  “Thanks, Jay. I might take you up on it. A house without my wife is not my home.” His eyes became unfocused, staring into the distance.

  I wished there was something more I could say. And then, out of nowhere, bile rose up my throat. I was on my feet, scrambling to a secluded area — not wanting to throw up in front of Dan.

  I made it to a magnolia tree, putting a hand on the trunk to steady myself as I vomited the lemon drink. I knew cayenne couldn’t be good for nausea! When I felt better, I stared over my arm to where Dan still sat on the bench, watching me with concern. I pulled out my handkerchief and wiped my face.

  James Colton splashed his feet in the water, giggling. I needed to go in, to get out of the hot sun that only made me feel worse.

  I approached my son. “Hey, James Colton, ready to go?”

  “Momma, I having fun.”

  “We’ll play Chutes and Ladders,” I promised. He reluctantly turned away from the pool.

  “Get your socks and shoes.”

  Dan was on his feet and took a few steps toward me. “Do you need to go to a doctor?”

  I waved a hand at him. “No, I’m fine.”

  I turned my back to him, hurrying James Colton up.

  Dan came closer, leaning toward me. “You’re not expecting, are you?”

  I didn’t answer and then chastised myself. Now he was going to know, and it was none of his business. Why couldn’t I lie as easily as everyone else? Even now, I could turn to him and simply say no. Instead, I told him good-bye without looking at him and headed to the house.

  Once I got inside, I considere
d my situation. What was I going to do? I didn’t want to stay in this house with Marla having an affair under my nose ... and Grace and Zeke ... I would get a hotel. I sighed deeply, so sad that our friendship would be destroyed over this. Zeke might still be in the radio room. I would tell him to pack, that we were leaving.

  But when I stepped through the door, Marla waited.

  Chapter 18—The Proposal

  I turned to leave, but Marla caught my arm. “Wait, I need to talk to you.”

  James Colton was rushing over to the games to pull out Chutes and Ladders. “No, James Colton. We need to go.” His face was already twisting into a display of stubbornness, so much like Michael’s.

  Marla held out her hand in a gesture of supplication, and I hesitated. “Jay, just for a moment?” She went over to the case that held a variety of games and pulled out a jigsaw puzzle. “J.C., why don’t you sit at the table and put this together?”

  “Look, Momma!” He showed me the picture, a German shepherd. “Awgos.”

  Well, a dog that was similar to him, if Argos had not been so scarred. I bit my lip but didn’t speak. Marla motioned to a corner with two upholstered chairs, a table between them.

  I did as she wanted, reluctant to end our friendship, wanting to repair it, wanting Marla to explain away what I had seen.

  There was a pot and two cups with saucers. “Aliénor made some peppermint tea. She said it would help your morning sickness.”

  I nodded, and she poured each of us a cup. I took a tentative sip. It was delicious and soothing. I leaned forward, readying myself for what I had to say. “Marla, please thank Mr. Drake for his hospitality. We’ll be leaving today.”

  “But you haven’t gotten the results from the tests.”