Thunder's Shadow

by Abagail Eldan

  She shook her head slowly. “I’m not so sure.” She pursed her lips and caught my eyes in a hard stare. “Sometimes Walter drops by to see me... I’d prefer you not to bring her in again... that is, if my uncle hires you.”

  Had her jealousy over Laurie cost me my job? Was she threatening me? My first reaction was a stab of anger, but I looked down at my hands until I was able to smooth the planes of my face. “Don’t worry. I don’t think Laurie wants to come back.”

  The wariness retreated from Velma’s eyes. “You’re right. I probably just made a fuss over nothing.”

  “Right. Hand me the papers as you sort them. I’ll put them in the file.”

  “That’s a great idea.” She began laying out the papers, sorting them into stacks.

  Working together, we soon had them filed. Dr. Driscoll still had not made it back. “What kind of accounting system do you use?”

  “My uncle...”

  “...handles that,” I finished for her. We were both laughing when Dr. Driscoll came in the door.

  I sobered and stood. “Oh, Dr. Driscoll. Are you ready to go over the bookkeeping with me?”

  “I’d almost forgotten about it but come along. Let me show you.”

  I followed him into his office. He immediately lit up a cigar. The nausea that had been gone all day came back with full force.

  “Excuse me,” I mumbled. I ran out the back, into the alleyway, and vomited.

  When I looked up, Dr. Driscoll stood beside me. “Sorry about that. Reckon some pregnant women can’t stand the smell of a good cigar.”

  “Pregnant?”

  “You are pregnant, aren’t you?”

  I straightened my shoulders. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

  He looked confused. “Sorry for what?”

  “Sorry I didn’t tell you. I knew you wouldn’t hire me if you knew...”

  “Missy, I suspected when you walked through the door on Monday. Tuesday at the Hutchinson’s farm confirmed it. I may be an animal doctor, but I’m still a doctor.”

  “You hired me when you knew I was pregnant?”

  “With all the men heading off to war, I didn’t have much choice. I knew I’d have to hire a woman, sooner or later. And women get pregnant if there’s men-folk about.” He shrugged his rounded shoulders.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Why are you thanking me? You’re still on trial... three weeks, I think we agreed?” His voice was gruff, but his eyes twinkled.

  “Yes, sir. Three weeks.” My lips twitched in a smile.

  “Come on back in. I already put my cigar out.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Driscoll. You won’t regret this...”

  He rolled his eyes. “I hope not. Hurry up. We don’t have all day.” And his rotund form was already up the back step, into the building, before my feet began to move.

  Chapter 25—The Visit

  Dr. Driscoll gave me Saturday off, a thank-you, I thought, for getting his office organized. I spent the morning washing my clothes, scrubbing blood stains from the overalls, and working in the yards. The front and back yards had been sadly neglected. Weeds sprouted everywhere. I got my hoe and dug them up.

  When I had stopped off, Friday after work, and invited her, Sylvia had agreed to come over on Saturday at four. What she didn’t know was that Marla and Laurie were coming over also. I wanted everything in top shape, although I wasn’t sure why. She’d still look down her nose at my small house with its mostly homemade furniture.

  I attacked the weeds with a vengeance. I wanted my place to look the best it possibly could. After plenty of stops to rest, still feeling weak and dizzy from the nausea, I managed to get the yard looking somewhat better.

  After I finished in the yards, I baked a pound cake and then turned my attention to myself.

  I wanted to look my best when I faced Sylvia, so I took extra care washing my hair and combing it out. I then sat down at my dresser and peered into the mirror at myself, wishing I had more makeup to hide the flaws on my face. The powder in the compact and my lipstick would have to do. I didn’t have any rouge, so after powdering my face, I put a dot of lipstick on each cheek to blend in. Everyone who had mentioned my appearance lately was right — I was very pale. The blended lipstick on my cheeks did give me a bit of color and the powder helped hide some of the darkness under my eyes. It was the best I could do.

  After donning my best dress, I glanced at the clock. Only three thirty. I couldn’t sit still, so I went outside and down to the barn, with Coby trotting after me. The old barn sat empty. I wasn’t sure if I’d get more cows or not. A milk cow would be nice, but someone would have to milk it, and right now, I just didn’t feel up to it. I wasn’t sure, when Momma moved here, if I could count on her help. Zeke probably would, but a sense of protectiveness arose within me each time I thought of giving him work to do. Momma had mistreated him when he was so young, making him work in the fields. I feared if I made him do chores, Momma would continue increasing his burden. I shrugged my shoulders. We’d work it out when they moved here.

  For now, Aunt Jenny and Uncle Colt provided me with all the milk and butter I needed. But with three of us here, I wasn’t sure if they would want to continue, or if we needed to take advantage of their generosity. I walked up the path, toward the house, scanning the area for any stray weeds, stopping here and there to pull one up, and went in through the back door.

  When I entered the house, Coby barked, and I heard a car door. Going to the front, I looked out. Sylvia. I knew she was coming, but my heart still pounded in my chest. I chastised myself for my fear. I stepped onto the porch and spoke sharply to Coby who immediately quieted.

  I smiled a welcome. “Come in, Sylvia.”

  Her eyes were guarded, but she smiled back as she walked through the screen door I held open. She nodded her head, with what seemed like approval, when she entered into the kitchen. I tried to see it through her eyes — the pine floors, full of knots and dents and darkened with age, the hand-made chairs and table, crafted by my father, the old black wood stove, perched on rock slabs Poppa had brought up from the creek, and the lantern hanging on a hook above the sink. All of it I adored and cherished, mainly because it reminded me of Poppa and the days gone by. The warmth of the room was further enhanced by a large window above the sink, framing the view of the pasture by the barn. An oil lamp and a handful of wild flowers stuffed in a Mason jar sat on the table along with a couple of jars of homemade blackberry jelly. All of it combined to create a sense of hominess and comfort. From Sylvia’s face, it seemed she felt it, too.

  “Have a seat at the table. I’ll pour us a glass of iced tea.”

  She nodded and slid gracefully into her seat, folding her hands on the table. Coby barked again, and I knew it was probably Marla and Laurie. I continued pouring glasses of tea, knowing they’d let themselves in. I faced Sylvia and set her glass of tea in front of her.

  Sylvia turned her head toward the door. “It looks like you have company, Sarah Jane.”

  I nodded. “I’m expecting them. It’s Marla and Laurie.”

  One eyebrow cocked, and she tilted her head at me. “Oh?”

  I ignored her unspoken question and greeted the girls as they came in, giving them each a hug.

  Sylvia just said hello, as she had done at the Hutchinson’s house, indicating no embarrassment. When everyone was seated with their glass of tea, I cut pieces of pound cake and passed them around.

  Marla chatted, as if nothing was amiss, as they ate their cake. I couldn’t eat mine, but just toyed with it. Sylvia was watching me.

  “Not hungry, Sarah Jane?”

  “Not really.” I pushed my saucer away.

  Sylvia continued studying me. “It looks like you’ve lost weight. Are you still sick?”

  I glanced at Marla and then at Laurie. Sylvia’s eyes followed the direction of mine.

  I caught her look and shook my head. “I’m fine.”

  Sylvia gave an elegant shrug of her shoulders and contin
ued eating. “I have such an appetite since I’ve been pregnant. Food tastes great, even this pound cake. May I have another piece?”

  I ignored her jab and cut her another piece. Laurie’s lips tightened, but she didn’t speak, had barely said a word since she had entered. We were both waiting for Marla to take charge.

  Marla finally glanced at Sylvia and nodded in my direction. “Jay tells us that you claim Michael is the father of your baby.”

  Sylvia’s eyebrows rose, and her eyes settled on me, scrutinizing my face. I tried to keep my face impassive until she finally turned her eyes away and back to Marla. “Yes, I did tell her Michael was the father.” Her back had straightened, and she held herself rigid and watchful.

  Laurie scooted to the edge of her chair. “You’re lying!”

  Sylvia cocked an eyebrow at her before turning to fully face me, her muscles relaxing. “I swear the wife of the man who fathered my child is sitting here.” Her lips curled into a cruel smile, and her eyes held mine. “I’ll swear on a stack of Bibles, if you’d like.”

  I searched her eyes for the truth and saw no deception, only surety in her face and tone. No one could lie as she was doing, so brazenly, without guile on her face or in her body language. She believed what she was saying to me, and it was something I could no longer deny.

  Marla spoke again, her voice soft. “But you have lied?”

  Sylvia’s eyes became veiled and watchful. “What do you mean?”

  “It was you who started the rumor about your parents kicking you out. That’s not true, is it?”

  My eyes widened. “What? Why would she lie about that?”

  Marla shook her head sadly. “She used the rumor deliberately, to get William’s sympathy, so that he would marry her.”

  Laurie again stirred in her chair. “If her parents were supporting her, why would she need to marry William? She obviously doesn’t care about him.”

  Marla’s smile spread across her face, but her eyes registered sorrow. “She only married William for one reason — to exact revenge.”

  Sylvia laughed, genuine laughter that made her eyes sparkle. “You know me so well, Marla!”

  Chapter 26—Turning Freely

  Marla’s golden hair swayed back and forth as she shook her head at Sylvia. “Moving closer to the wife of the man who rejected you and attempting blackmail is not going to bring you happiness.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Sylvia said.

  Marla sighed and spoke slowly, reluctantly. “I’ve made a few phone calls. I’ve discovered your parents are giving you an allowance, a generous one at that.”

  “And she was trying to get more money from me?” I asked, not quite believing my ears.

  Laurie pushed her chair back from the table, her eyes flashing anger, and stood, as if readying herself to go for Sylvia’s throat. I placed a hand on her arm, and Laurie unclenched her hands but remained standing.

  Marla glanced in our direction and continued talking. “Sylvia, you still have the car they bought for you. Your story might have been stronger if you had ditched the car.”

  Sylvia laughed again. “I’ll remember that next time.”

  Marla leaned across the table, touching her forearm lightly. “Sylvia, please think about what you’ve done and are doing. Hurting people will not stop your hurt.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “So you say.” She twisted her lips into a semblance of a smile. “This changes nothing. Sarah Jane’s husband still needs to support this child.” She turned to face me, and her eyes locked with mine and hardened.

  My mouth fell open, and I looked to Marla for help. Marla took a sip of tea and leaned back in her chair, her face still calm.

  Marla’s golden hair again swayed with the shake of her head. “No, you will not extort money from Jay. If you pursue this foolishness, I will inform your parents.”

  Sylvia’s unsubdued laughter resounded in the kitchen. “So? My parents won’t care.”

  Marla’s sympathetic eyes found mine, and after a split second, I realized she was expressing sympathy for Sylvia. Marla rose from her chair, and Sylvia did the same, her stance portraying her triumph at having won.

  Realizing I was the only one still sitting, I climbed to my feet, placing my hands on the table to steady myself. “Sylvia, my father told me a conscience is like a gear in the heart that turns when we sin. The cogs on the gear are sharp, at first, and prick our heart. However, when a person violates the conscience, the gear meets the violation as resistance, and a little of each cog gets worn away. If we continue violating our consciences, keep sinning, more and more of the edges are rubbed away, until less and less of the cog is left, making the pricks less and less painful. After years of ignoring the pricking, the cogs will be worn smooth and only a smooth-turning wheel is left. With no pricking of the conscience, we lose our concern for others, and no longer care how deeply we hurt someone.”

  Sylvia rolled her eyes. “What’s your point? Aren’t we better off without the cogs?”

  Marla turned to fully face Sylvia. “No, Sylvia. It’s what keeps us connected with others. I do not wish to do this, but if your parents do not act upon their own volition, I’ll discuss this with my father. He can be very persuasive. I’m sure he can convince your parents to cut off your allowance and perhaps take possession of your car.”

  Sylvia scoffed but fear clouded her eyes. “Well, we’ll just see about that, won’t we?” Her eyes, full of hatred, turned on me. She shrugged her shoulders. “If you’re too hardhearted to help, especially when your husband took advantage of me, perhaps it’s your own cogs that have been worn away. Perhaps there are others whose gears are still intact. I’m sure the baby and I will be fine.” She rubbed her belly. “It’s been fun, ladies, but I simply must be going. Thank you, Sarah Jane, for the hospitality.” Her brilliant smile flashing, she marched out.

  The rest of us did not speak, nor did we move until she drove away. Laurie threw her arms around my neck, and I rubbed her back, comforting her. I only felt numb and was glad the ordeal was over.

  Marla moved over to us. “Are you okay, Jay? Do you need to lie down?”

  I released Laurie and began cleaning off the table. “I’m fine.” I carried the dishes to the sink and filled the dishpan with water.

  Laurie was at my elbow. “Marla and I can do the dishes.”

  “I’ve got it. I’m not an invalid.”

  Laurie didn’t speak, but she cast a sideways glance at Marla. She took the glass I had washed and rinsed it and then handed it to Marla who dried.

  We worked in silence, and my thoughts raced. What if Sylvia told everyone Michael was the father of her baby? I’d be ashamed to hold my head up in public. I sighed deeply and moved to wipe the crumbs from the table.

  Marla and Laurie eyed me anxiously, and irritability welled up in me. I threw the rag in the pan, splashing water, and went out to the front porch to sit in the swing. Laurie and Marla did not follow me, but I heard their whispering through the open window. I didn’t know what they were saying and didn’t care. I should be thankful to both of them, for their help and support, but all I could dwell on was that now they knew, knew full well, that Michael was the baby’s father.

  After fifteen or twenty minutes, I got up and whistled for Coby. He bounded to me, and I slumped down on the front steps, and he laid his head in my lap. I scratched behind his ears, and he closed his eyes in contentment.

  I heard Marla and Laurie come out but didn’t raise my head. They both took seats on the steps, Laurie on the step below me, Marla beside me.

  Marla placed a hand on my back. “Jay, Laurie and I were talking...”

  I didn’t raise my head, gave no indication I heard her.

  “We both think you need to talk to Michael about this... write him a letter, clear the air.”

  I placed my head in my hands. “What good would that do? What’s past is past. Remember when I told Michael we don’t live in the past? It’s still true today. Michael got Syl
via pregnant before we even married — it has nothing to do with our relationship, our marriage. And as I told Sylvia before, what happened is between Michael and her. If he wants to provide for the child, I will wholeheartedly support him — it is his responsibility.” I raised my head and held Marla’s eyes.

  She was smiling at me. “I’m glad you feel that way.”

  Some of my irritability subsided, and I continued. “There’s no changing the past. Michael and I just have to move forward from here.” I touched Laurie’s shoulder. “Tell Sylvia to write Michael. I’m sure Michael will want to know she’s carrying his child.”

  Laurie turned shocked eyes to me. “I have to talk to that woman?”

  I sighed deeply. “No. I’ll tell her when I get the chance.”

  Laurie searched my face. “Never mind, Jay. It would be easier for me to do it instead of you. I’ll tell her.”

  I shook my head. “No, you’re right. I can write her a note, and you can give it to her. That way, neither of us will have to speak to her.”

  Relief flooded Laurie’s face.

  I got to my feet. “Y’all come back in and help me word it correctly.”

  Laurie laughed harshly. “I know what I’d like to tell that horned snake.”

  I smiled. “Maybe I’d better just let Marla help.”

  Marla and Laurie didn’t laugh, simply nodded and followed me in.

  I got a fountain pen and paper and sat down at the kitchen table. Marla was making a pot of coffee, and Laurie was already seated, looking glum.

  I went to work, and Marla slid into the chair next to me, making suggestions as she read over my shoulder.

  When I finished, I folded the paper and handed it to Laurie. She eyed me and nodded her head. “Sylvia’s right. You have lost weight.”

  Sylvia poured the coffee and got the pound cake back out, giving me an extra generous slice. “Aren’t you supposed to gain weight when you’re pregnant?” she asked with a smile.

  “I’m sure I’ll start gaining soon.” I traced a circle on the table and glanced from Marla to Laurie. “The cogs on Sylvia’s gear have worn away long ago. The gear is just a wheel now, turning freely.”