The Sound of Rain Page 11

  Larkin nodded but didn’t look like she was paying close attention.

  “So when will—Ben, is it?—when will he come fetch you?”

  Larkin narrowed her eyes. “What makes you think it’s Ben who’s coming for me?”

  “You mentioned him once or twice. Figured that’s who it would be.”

  She tossed her ponytail over her shoulder. “I don’t suppose it matters now that you aren’t likely to see Daddy. Yes, Ben’s who I expect, but I’m not exactly sure . . . I mean, the date isn’t definite . . . well, I don’t quite know when he’ll come.” She twirled her hair around a finger. “Probably I’ll just go to him.”

  Judd slowed for the winding road and tried to ignore the uneasy feeling curling in his belly. “Larkin, all of this has been arranged, hasn’t it? Your father wanting me to take you as far as West Virginia so you can go on to Kentucky?” He fished a piece of paper out of his breast pocket. “This is the letter on company stationery saying I have two weeks’ leave to go home and look after my family. Asking me to take you as long as I’m going.” He glanced at her, suspicion taking root. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with this, would you?”

  Larkin twirled her hair faster and looked out the window as though the whirling scenery was the most fascinating thing she’d ever laid eyes on. “Why would you ask that?”

  Judd pulled over at a farm gate, shut off the engine, and turned to look at Larkin. “What’s going on here?”

  She threw up her hands and blew out a puff of air. “Oh, fine. I just had to get to Kentucky, and when you mentioned that your family needed help, it all seemed so perfect. You could go home and I’d have someone to help me get to Kentucky.” She looked at him sideways, then turned her attention to the cows in the pasture beyond the fence. “I just knew Daddy would give you the time off, but I thought he might contrive a way to keep me from traveling with you.” She looked at him with wide blue eyes. “So I wrote that letter you have.” She must have seen the thunder in his face. “And I left a letter of explanation for Daddy, too. You should be fine when you go back, and I’ll be in Kentucky with Ben by then, so everything will be alright.”

  Judd gripped the steering wheel hard. He wanted to explode, wanted to blow up and maybe give this silly female a thing or two to think about. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. What had he gotten himself into?

  “I have a feeling your father will not be pleased to see me when he realizes I’m responsible for helping you run away to the wilds of Kentucky. Never mind how he’ll feel about me abandoning my job.”

  Larkin flipped her hand in the air. “I’m not running away. I’m running to. It’s my calling. It’s what I’m meant for. If Daddy had his way, I’d marry some attorney or doctor and join the garden club. He might approve of me volunteering at a nursing home or something like that.” She smiled, looking like a child who’d just been promised a trip to the fair. “Once I start making a difference in people’s lives, he’ll change his tune.”

  Judd let his head fall forward against the steering wheel. He closed his eyes. “And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

  “Go help your family. I’ll call Daddy and explain everything.” She sighed as though it were a huge concession. “Even though the letter already explained it all.”

  Judd looked at her, pretty as ever, but maybe more naïve than he’d realized. He started the car and continued driving. He was tempted to turn around and run her right on back to South Carolina, but they’d have to drive through the night and he was tired. He guessed he wouldn’t be in any more trouble if he took her home in the morning. Whether she wanted to go or not. In the meantime, he’d be the one calling George Heyward to take responsibility for the mess they were in.

  It was dusk when Judd pulled the Roadmaster into the front yard at his brother’s house. They’d stopped twice to use pay phones to try and reach Mr. Heyward. The first time the phone was out of order, and the second time Judd had reached the Heyward home only to have the housekeeper tell him Mr. Heyward was out of town on business and Mrs. Heyward was out for the evening. He hated to think what business Mr. Heyward might be on, considering that he’d practically kidnapped his daughter. Each time Judd failed to connect with her family, Larkin seemed to relax a little bit more. He guessed every ounce of tension she shed fell directly on his shoulders.

  Judd stood from the car and peered into the gloaming to see how badly the farm had been hit. There was a gap in the roof on the barn and quite a few trees down behind the house. At least they’d have plenty of firewood for the winter.

  Larkin got out of the car and wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s freezing,” she said.

  Judd smirked. “Been known to have snow in November.”

  She made a face at him. “I’ve seen snow. One year it snowed on the beach in January.” She got a dreamy look on her face. “It was so pretty—the surf lapping at the flakes on the sand.”

  Judd laughed. “And how long did that last?”

  “I suppose it was gone later that afternoon, but it was still snow.” She tossed her ponytail. Judd was beginning to realize that’s what she did when she was put out over something.

  “What do we have here?”

  Judd turned to see Abram on the porch, thumbs hooked in the galluses of his overalls. It occurred to him that he hadn’t really considered how to explain Larkin.

  “Thought I’d better come help put things back together after the storm.”

  Abram looked at Larkin but spoke to Judd. “Thought you’d be busy setting that timber company to rights. You quit your job?”

  Judd glared at Larkin. “I didn’t quit. Plan to go back shortly.”

  “Hunh. That boss of yours must be an awful good Christian to let you come home like this.” He finally looked at Judd. “You gonna introduce me to your lady friend?”

  Judd schooled his expression. “This is Larkin Heyward. She’s on her way to Kentucky to meet . . . a feller and was good enough to let me come along for the ride.”

  “That so, miss?”

  Larkin glided up to the porch and extended her hand. She looked like a queen—and almost as out of place. “That’s so. Your brother has been most kind to escort me this far. I plan to do mission work in the coalfields of Kentucky.” She batted her eyelashes and glanced back at Judd. “I’m in your brother’s debt.”

  Abram took the extended hand like she was giving him a frog and he was too polite to turn it down. He smiled and looked confused. “You needing a place to put up for the night?”

  “I surely am. If there’s a guesthouse in the area, I’d be happy to go see if they have accommodations.”

  Judd snorted and began hauling bags out of the trunk. All he had was his duffel, but Larkin appeared to have packed up all her earthly belongings. He was curious to hear what Abram would have to say. Before his brother could open his mouth, Lydia—who must’ve been just inside the door—stepped out onto the porch.

  “We’d be proud to have you stay with us,” she said, tucking her hands under her apron.

  “Oh, I hate to impose.”

  Judd didn’t think all Larkin’s syrup was necessary, but it surely seemed to be working on his family.

  “It’s no bother. You can sleep in Judd’s old room. We’re about to sit down to dinner. You’uns come on in and eat a bite.”

  Judd opened his mouth to ask where he’d be sleeping, but then snapped it shut when he saw Larkin hook her arm through Lydia’s and sashay on into the house. Abram raised his eyebrows at his brother and followed the ladies inside. Judd left Larkin’s things on the ground, hefted his own bag onto his shoulder, and followed. That woman seemed to have everything figured out. Let her tote her own stuff.

  Larkin was so nervous she was shaking. She’d made it this far half expecting her father to catch up to them at any moment. She’d written Ben a second letter and mailed it from an inland post office where the storm had wreaked less havoc, but she hadn’t heard back. Maybe sh
e should have given Ben more time to respond, but every day made her feel a little more trapped. She continued to do volunteer work, but after a week or so the urgency died down and folks were settling into what she thought of as rebuilding mode. And she wasn’t so desperately needed anymore. She wanted to be needed.

  “Who are you?”

  A little boy with red hair and adorable freckles stood his ground like a fierce lion cub. Lydia had gone on into the kitchen while Abram and Judd were hanging back at the door, talking too softly for her to hear them. Looked like she’d have to face this latest challenge on her own.

  “I’m Larkin.”

  He seemed to consider this, and Larkin noticed a second little head peering at her from around a corner. This child couldn’t be more than five, with strawberry curls and huge blue eyes. She watched them both intently.

  “Like the bird?”

  Larkin turned her attention back to the boy. “Kind of, but with an i and n added on.”

  He nodded. “You look kind of like a bird, but not a lark. They’re too plain. You’re more like a rufous-sided towhee with your pretty hair.” He turned toward the hall. “Hey, Gracie, ain’t she like a towhee?”

  The little girl eased out from her hiding place. “She’s a pretty lady, not a bird.”

  “That she is, my little Grace from God.” Abram stepped into the room and swooped the child into the air. “But not near as pretty as you.” He winked at Larkin. “Have these young’uns introduced themselves properly?”

  “Well, I gather that’s Grace in your arms, but I have yet to learn the name of this brave fellow.”

  “Yes sir, brave’s the word.” He set Grace down and placed a hand on his son’s head. “But James is prone to dreaming overmuch.”

  “He’d likely make a fine poet,” Larkin said and then wondered if the child would even know what a poet was.

  James grinned and squared his shoulders. He began reciting with, “‘I wander’d lonely as a cloud that floats on high o’er vales and hills, when all at once I saw a crowd, a host, of golden daffodils.’” He continued apace until he reached the end and recited with a flourish, “‘. . . and then my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils.’”

  Larkin clapped her hands in delight and astonishment as James gave a little bow.

  “Oh, now you’ve done it,” said Judd, dropping his duffel with a thump. “That young’un knows more poetry than I’ve ever read. If we don’t catch him now, we’ll not get a word in edgewise all evening.”

  James launched himself at his uncle, and they rolled onto a sofa in a laughing mass of arms and legs. Grace wiggled and clapped her hands, crying, “Me too. Me too.” Judd stood, caught the little girl up in his arms, and tossed her in the air. Larkin thought she saw him wince, and he rubbed his leg after he set the child down.

  “Get on in here before this food gets cold,” Lydia called.

  Larkin meant to offer to help with the meal but had been too caught up with the children.

  They filed into the kitchen where a plank table stood off to one side weighted down with dishes. Judd sat between the children on one bench, while Lydia patted the opposite bench inviting Larkin to sit beside her. Abram sat in a chair at the head of the table.

  “Let us pray,” he said, and all traces of the earlier levity disappeared. “Dear Father in Heaven, thank you for the bounty of thy blessings set before us on this table. Thank you for the hands that prepared this food for our nourishment. Thank you for bringing Judd home to us, and bless Miss Larkin as she strives to do your work in Kentucky. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

  Hands unclasped and heads lifted as they began passing dishes around the table. Larkin accepted each bowl or platter and helped herself to at least a taste. They certainly seemed to eat well. There was a roast, mashed turnips with butter, green beans stewed with pork fat, fluffy biscuits, and a bowl of applesauce.

  Larkin tasted the meat and found it had a unique flavor—tasty but not what she’d expected. “This is the leanest beef I think I’ve ever eaten.” She hurried to add, “And it’s delicious.”

  Judd and Abram exchanged a look.

  “It’s deer meat,” James offered with a confused look on his face. “Don’t you know the difference?”

  Larkin paled and swallowed. She knew lots of folks who ate venison but hadn’t tasted it herself. Her mother said it was for people who couldn’t afford proper meat. She pasted on a smile.

  “Seems I do now,” she said brightly. Lydia looked concerned, so Larkin took another bite and fought it down. “Delicious. Truly.”

  “You’ll likely be eating lots of wild game once you get to Kentucky,” Judd said with a gleam in his eye. “Squirrel, rabbit, deer, maybe even possum.”

  Larkin split open her biscuit and ignored him. She’d been meaning to lose a few pounds. Perhaps this was her opportunity.

  Chapter

  16

  Larkin folded the thin pillow in half and jammed it under her head. How in the world was she going to track her brother down? And apparently she was going to have to do it before Judd tossed her in the car and drove her back to South Carolina. She had the name of the town where Ben collected his mail but had no way of knowing how to find him beyond that. Her only hope was that someone at the post office in Logan would know. He must come for his mail—surely they could give her directions. Or, worst-case scenario, she could just wait at the post office until he showed up.

  She remembered the last time she’d seen him the evening of his graduation party. She’d watched him out the window after Daddy slammed the door in his face. He’d stood in the driveway for a long time, looking at the house as though memorizing it. Eventually, Mother stepped out, suitcase in hand, and glanced around like she was afraid she was going to get caught. She handed the bag over to Ben, kissed him on the cheek, and darted back inside. After that, Ben climbed into his car and drove slowly away. Larkin watched until his taillights disappeared.

  Judd woke on the sofa with a crick in his neck and a little girl staring at him with big blue eyes. He winked at her, and she giggled, then clambered up over him and nestled between the back of the sofa and his knees.

  “Did you come back to dig more coal?” she asked.

  Judd rose up on one arm and considered his niece. “No. I came back to help your pa put the roof back on the barn.”

  “Good. Uncle Joe went down in the mine and didn’t come back.”

  Judd swung his feet to the floor and tucked Grace close to his side. “That’s so,” he said, swallowing past a lump in his throat. “That’s surely so.”

  He sat quiet for a few moments, getting his bearings, missing Joe and giving thanks for the child tucked in next to him.

  “Your ma up yet?”

  “No. Daddy went to do the milking. He said to leave Mommy alone until he got back.”

  “Guess he didn’t mention me,” Judd said with a grunt as he stood and stretched. “Give me a minute in the privy and then we’ll get some coffee going.”

  Grace bounced with excitement but stayed put on the sofa. She was still there when Judd came back in. He scooped her up and carried her, giggling, into the kitchen where he pumped water into a basin so they could both wash their hands and faces. Then he stoked the wood stove and set the coffee to percolating.

  “Lawsy, Judd, are you in here making breakfast?” Lydia appeared, pushing the last pin into her hair.

  “No, ma’am. And if you were to eat my cooking, you’d agree it’s for the best.”

  She patted him on the arm and began pulling out eggs, ham, and ingredients for another pan of biscuits. Judd remembered at least one thing he’d always appreciated about living with his brother’s family.

  As Lydia began cutting lard into the flour she’d spooned into a large wooden bowl, Larkin eased into the room like she was afraid she might step on a snake. “Good morning,” she said a little too brightly. She glanced at Judd, giving him the distinct impression she wished he weren’t there. “Um, Lydia,
can you point me to the, uh, facilities?”

  “The what? Oh, you mean the privy. Grace, take Larkin out so she can do her business.”

  Judd probably shouldn’t have enjoyed Larkin’s discomfort so much, but she did flush the prettiest shade of pink. He stared at the ceiling and whistled so he wouldn’t laugh at the shocked look on Larkin’s face.

  “Out? The bathroom is outside?”

  Lydia paused in her mixing. “Oh, honey, they’s some houses in town with indoor plumbing, but it’ll be a long time before it gets all the way out here.” Now Lydia flushed. “I hope you don’t mind.”

  Larkin seemed to be dancing just a little. Judd imagined if she’d avoided learning about the “facilities” last night, she must be fair to pop. Grace grabbed Larkin’s hand and tugged her toward the door. Larkin shot him a desperate look but allowed herself to be led away.

  Thankfully, Abram came in from the barn just then and Judd was saved from doubling over in laughter by taking the milk and offering to strain it off for Lydia.

  A few minutes later, Larkin came back in, found the washbasin and scrubbed her cheeks until they were almost as rosy as before. “Breakfast sure does smell good. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “No, no, you just sit down over there and keep me company while I cook. Tell me about the ocean and all this business Judd’s been writing us about dance halls and amusement parks.” She shot him a teasing look. “Sounded to me like he run off to join the circus.”

  Larkin sat at the table, and the rest of the family followed suit, listening as she told them about the Pavilion and collecting seashells and how it was warm almost all year. She even told them about volunteering at the hospital. They listened with rapt attention until every last bite of breakfast had been eaten and the dishes cleared. Larkin insisted on helping wash up, which pleased and amused Judd at the same time. Watching her wrestle with the pump handle and heat water on the stove was enough to entertain him the rest of the day. She was game, he’d give her that.

  After breakfast, Abram and James headed out to the barn to start work on the roof. Judd hated that he wouldn’t be able to follow them, but he didn’t see how he had any choice but to take Larkin back home. He invited her out onto the porch with a look, and she followed slowly as though she’d rather stay and help Lydia and Grace with the rag rug they were making.