The Sound of Rain Page 16

  “Turn the pan so they brown evenly,” Granny said.

  Larkin did, pushing the pan as far away from the fire as it would go in hopes it wouldn’t burn both sides. Then Granny directed her in how to fry the meat in a cast-iron skillet. The fat popped, burning her again and leaving grease spots on her blouse.

  Finally, the time came to dish everything up. Larkin reached for the pan of greens and found them stuck to the bottom. She scraped them out the best she could and poured water in the pan to soak. She turned the biscuits out onto a plate, half burned and half doughy. The fatback seemed okay, although she thought it limper than meat should be. Granny harrumphed and crossed her arms.

  With the simple yet somehow incredibly complicated meal ready, Larkin called Judd in to eat. He climbed down from the roof and joined them at the wooden table, helping Granny from her rocker to one of the side chairs.

  “Will you say grace?” Granny asked Judd. “I always did prefer to hear a man bless the food.”

  Judd folded his hands and bowed his head. “Dear Lord, thank you for this food and for the hands that prepared it.” His voice deepened and roughened. “May your blessings ever shower on us as they have today. Amen.”

  Larkin felt her damaged hands—the ones Judd just blessed—quiver as she passed him the bowl of greens. This meal could hardly be counted a blessing. She put the blackest biscuit on her own plate, splitting it open to hide the ruined crust. Judd’s hand hesitated over the plate as though trying to find a safe place to land. He finally selected a piece of bread that was only half burnt and passed the food on. Larkin tried not to stare as he took a bite of greens and worked them around. He swallowed and bit into a biscuit, chewing, chewing—how long did it take to chew a piece of bread?—and then forking in a piece of fatback that he’d been working to cut for too long.

  Larkin couldn’t stand it anymore. She lowered her head and picked at the food on her own plate. Somehow it all tasted the same—like smoke and grease. Maybe she wasn’t quite as ready to tackle this way of life as she’d imagined.

  Chapter

  22

  Judd needed to get himself back to Abram’s farm and from there back to South Carolina, but he couldn’t bring himself to want to be anywhere Larkin wasn’t. After one of the worst dinners he’d ever made himself swallow, they’d gone back to the church and were now preparing to stay their second night. Judd knew he should be making plans to get on the road at first light, but other plans—dreams really—kept swirling through his head.

  “Fine day’s work,” Ben said, leaning his chair back on two legs. “Sure could use a man like you around here. Seems like folks trust you more than a Lowcountry boy like me.”

  “I might’ve run across the same thing down there in South Carolina,” Judd said. He kicked off his boots and stretched his stocking feet toward the stove.

  “Dad been treating you right on the job?”

  Judd laced his fingers across his belly. “He has. Seems like a fair man with a knack for business. I’m just hoping he won’t hold all this folderol against me when I get back.”

  “I doubt he will. He values his workers, I’ll give him that.”

  Judd glanced toward the door where Larkin had disappeared a few moments earlier to conduct her “evening constitutional” as she put it. “But maybe he values his daughter more.”

  Ben sighed heavily. “He probably does—in some ways. I think he’s still trying to win his father-in-law’s approval, even though the old man has been gone a long time. Dad puts a great deal of stock in being successful.”

  Judd tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “What do you see as success?”

  Ben let his chair thump back down on all four legs. “Now, that is a mighty fine question.” He rubbed his chin. “Improving people’s lives. Giving them a raft to hold on to when they’re adrift in a sea of pain.”

  Judd considered the ceiling some more. “Not much money in that.”

  Ben laughed long and deep. “No, indeed, but there is a great deal of satisfaction and, for whatever reason, that seems to be enough for me. Jesus sent His disciples out to preach and heal people and He told them, ‘Take nothing for your journey, neither staves, nor scrip, neither bread, neither money; neither have two coats apiece.’” Ben smiled and it lit his face, so that Judd saw the resemblance between him and Larkin. “There’s making money and then there’s making a living. I prefer life.”

  Larkin pranced into the room then, arms tight around her and the cold clinging to her skirt. “Please tell me this is as cold as it gets.”

  Judd laughed. “January and February are the real test. This is just playing at cold.”

  She gave an exaggerated shiver and held her hands out to the fire. “I suppose I can bear it so long as Granny keeps my body warm slaving over her cookstove—goodness knows I need the practice—and Kyle keeps my heart warm by getting better.”

  Judd looked at Larkin and felt a lump rise in his throat. These people were good. They were light in a dark and even dangerous place. Larkin almost glowed with the joy of helping others, even though he suspected she’d been more hindrance to Granny Jane. He’d only ever helped anyone when it served his own purposes, and the one time Joe needed his help more than anything, he’d failed. How could he leave her here? How could he risk his heart by staying?

  “I’m going to hit the hay. Probably should get an early start in the morning.” Judd stood and headed for his cot.

  He could feel Larkin’s eyes on his back. “You’re leaving? After all you did for Granny today, I hoped . . .”

  “Gotta get back to the farm and then head south.” He glanced at Larkin and steeled himself against the October sky of her eyes. “Of course, that’s assuming your father still wants me to work for him. It’ll be a long bus ride for nothing if he doesn’t.”

  Larkin looked at him like he’d just spit on the floor. She blinked and her mouth worked, then she turned back to the stove, but the light seemed to have dimmed inside her.

  Judd slid under his blankets and turned his back to brother and sister. Yes sir. He’d get up at first light and walk until he could hitch a ride. Hopefully he’d be back at the family farm before sunset the following day. He wanted to make Larkin come with him, to tuck her snug under his arm and keep her safe always. But he knew that even then something bad could happen. The way it had with Joe. And that he could never bear.

  “I want you to take my car.” Larkin slid a bowl of lumpy porridge with burnt bits in front of Judd and set a pitcher of cream within easy reach. “It’s not suited to the rough roads around here and it would be best if you took it back to South Carolina.”

  Judd had meant to be gone before anyone else was up, but somehow he’d slept deep and long, only awakening when the smell of coffee tickled his nose. He poured cream over his cereal as a way to stall.

  “You might need it.”

  Larkin shrugged one pretty shoulder. “Ben has the truck and that rattletrap bus out back. Can’t think why we’d need a convertible.”

  Ben settled in the chair opposite. “I think she’s right, Judd. Folks around here will think we’re showing off with a car like that. Doesn’t exactly help us fit in.”

  “You’re letting her stay, then?” Judd pushed his bowl back a notch. He’d hoped Ben might come to his senses and save Judd the trouble of leaving Larkin behind.

  Ben looked at his sister, whose eyes shone. “If she still wants to stick around after a cooking lesson from Granny Jane, then she might could be a help.” He stirred his own porridge, tilting his head as though looking at it from another angle would improve it. “So, yes, she’s more than welcome to stay for as long as she likes.”

  Larkin squealed and clapped her hands. She did a little dance step over to the stove and tossed a stick of firewood in like she’d been doing it all her life.

  Judd watched her and wondered if maybe he should stay, too . . . but no. He had a duty to his family, not to mention his employer, and that kiss was probably j
ust her being nice—making up for all the trouble she’d caused him. He needed to finish up back at the farm, then go face Mr. Heyward. And driving Larkin’s car was the quickest way to get it all done. He’d say his goodbyes and get on the road. He looked at Larkin once more, telling himself he could always come back, but doubting he ever would.

  Even before Abram’s farm was shipshape again, Judd pointed the Buick south for the long drive back to Myrtle Beach. The miles of road gradually flattening and straightening out gave him way more time to think than he wanted. He tried not to think about Larkin—which was impossible since he could smell her perfume and see one of her scarves peeking out of the glove box. He tried to think about exactly what he’d say to Mr. Heyward instead.

  He was still thinking when he pulled up at the Waccamaw Timber Company building on a Monday afternoon in mid-November. He parked and went inside, imagining this was what it would feel like to brace a bear in its den.

  Mr. Heyward sat behind his desk, staring at some papers and tapping a pen on his blotter. He looked up, and his brow lowered and then cleared. He leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers across his belly, and looked expectant.

  “I brought Lar . . . Ms. Heyward’s car back. I hope—”

  George Heyward waved his hand. “Save your breath. I know my daughter, and between Hank and me, I think we have a pretty good idea about what kind of man you are. No one would blame me if I fired you on the spot, but I’m prepared to scratch this little adventure up to poor judgment and the influence of a pretty girl determined to get her way. Plus, with all the hurricane damage, we need every hand we can get.” He stood and braced his hands on his desk. “Next time, though, I’d advise you to examine what you’re offered a little more closely. I can’t see letting something like this pass a second time.”

  “Yes, sir.” Judd felt the silence bloom. “Guess I’ll just head on back to the boardinghouse and get ready for work tomorrow.”

  Mr. Heyward nodded and resumed his seat. Judd turned to go. As he was about to pass through the door, his employer cleared his throat.

  “Did she settle in alright? Was my . . . was Ben seeing to her?”

  “Yes, sir. Like two peas in a pod.”

  Mr. Heyward nodded once and spoke as though to himself. “They were always like that. From the day Larkin was born.”

  Judd exhaled long and slow and set out the few blocks to his old room in the boardinghouse.

  While Judd was grateful to fall back into the routine of work, especially during mild November days that would have been frosty back home, he felt an odd lack that bit deep. He tried to blame it on missing Joe, but that pain had blunted. Something he once doubted could ever happen.

  Judd grabbed his sack lunch and thermos on the Monday before Thanksgiving and headed out the door. He’d managed to get his hands on a cheap 1946 Ford truck that had just about been run into the ground. After spending all weekend working on it, he had it running and would be driving himself to work from now on.

  He slid behind the steering wheel and started the truck on the second try. He put it into gear, thinking about how he’d rather be deer hunting back home. He remembered two years earlier when he and Joe laid off work to head for the woods. They’d hunted all morning without getting anything, then sat down in the sun around noon to eat leftover biscuits with jelly and hard-boiled eggs.

  Judd remembered leaning back against a tree trunk and looking up at the blue, blue sky. Joe tossed him an egg. “Boiled that one especially for you,” he said. Judd should have suspected something, but he fell for it. He’d cracked the egg and found it raw inside, making a mess of his hands and his britches. He acted like he was mad, but mostly he was tickled. It had been a good day, even though they didn’t get a deer. Judd thought about that egg and how you couldn’t always tell the truth of a thing by looking at it from the outside.

  Judd’s days with the forest service had been cut back since so many stands of trees had been laid over like toothpicks by the storm. They were trying to salvage as much downed timber as possible before it started rotting or became infested with insects. Although there was plenty of work to keep everyone busy, the surplus was driving prices down. Judd tried to tell himself that wasn’t his worry, but he somehow felt more invested in the company now that he knew more of its history.

  With the increased pace of work, Judd was mostly doing mechanic work and this morning he’d be rotating back to the landing he’d worked that first day in August. When he pulled up, the other men came over to examine his truck, giving him a hard time about the rust spots and skinned places. Judd eased into the camaraderie like a warm tub of water but still felt that strange lack prickling him underneath it all.

  Pete sidled over. He wouldn’t hardly leave Judd alone about Larkin and their trip north. Judd supposed everyone knew about it, but Pete was the only one with the nerve to ask questions.

  “Guess now you can run on back to them mountains any time you feel like it,” he said. “Now, who is it she’s staying with again? Kin of yours?”

  Judd sighed. “You’re looking fit this morning, Pete. Looks like that leg’s healed up real good.”

  Pete thumped the leg in question. “Gives me fits any time it’s fixing to rain, but other than that seems like I ain’t no gimp after all.” His eyes flicked to Judd’s leg. “Could’ve been worse.”

  “That’s the spirit,” Judd said, slapping his friend on the back. He started over to Chuck to see which needs were most pressing this morning, but Pete spoke up again.

  “Wife said I oughta ask you to join us for dinner on Thursday. You probably got plans already, but I said I’d ask just to make her happy.”

  Judd hadn’t really given any thought to what he’d do on Thanksgiving. He certainly didn’t have any plans or expect anyone else to ask him. “That’d be fine. Tell Sally I’m grateful for the invitation.”

  Pete came as close to smiling as he ever did and trotted off to get his own day’s work started.

  Thursday morning Judd woke thankful that he did, after all, have someone to spend the day with. Pete might not be his first choice, but Sally helped make up for her husband’s cantankerous ways. He walked out of his room, whistling, a brown paper sack under his arm. Floyd sat in the sun on the front stoop. His hand had healed well, and Judd had gotten into the habit of listening to Amos ’n’ Andy on the radio with the old fellow every Sunday afternoon.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Floyd. You waiting on your daughter?”

  Floyd sighed and turned his face up toward the sun. “Seems like I’ll be waiting a long while. She called this morning to tell me she can’t come get me after all. Both her young’uns got the flu.” He dropped his head back down. “Guess I’ll make do around here.”

  “Come go with me,” Judd said, then wondered how Pete would take it if he showed up with an uninvited guest.

  Floyd perked up. “Where you headed?”

  “Friend’s house. Not sure who all will be there, but if there ain’t enough to go around, you can have mine.”

  Floyd slapped his knees and stood. “I’m in, and I thank ya for asking.”

  They piled into Judd’s truck, which started immediately as though it, too, were pleased with the outing. Judd learned more about Floyd’s grandchildren as they traveled. The older man had high hopes for his youngest grandson who was eight and loved trains, but wasn’t so sure about the oldest girl who was fourteen and wanted to be an actress. In turn, Judd talked about James and Grace, finding that he missed them extra on this Thanksgiving Day. He’d normally take James squirrel hunting to keep him out from under his mother’s feet, and when they got home he’d entertain both children with Paul Bunyan stories while the smell of wild turkey and dressing permeated the house.

  Judd remembered to worry how Pete would take to his unexpected guest as they crossed the bare yard littered with magnolia seedpods. As they stepped up on the porch, he could smell ham baking through the open door. An open door at Thanksgiving. Now that was a wonder.r />
  Pete banged the screen door and grabbed Judd’s hand. “Glad you could make it, pal.” He eyed Floyd with his neatly trimmed beard and web of wrinkles. “You a friend of Judd’s?” he asked, extending his hand in Floyd’s direction.

  “Proud to be counted as such,” Floyd said, pumping Pete’s hand in a firm grip.

  “Then you’re a friend of this house, too. Come on in. Sally’s in there fussing over dinner with her mother and sister. Her dad died not long after we married, and I swan I needed to get some menfolk in here this year to keep the women at bay.” He slapped Floyd on the back. “Glad you came to even up the numbers.” Sally came out to greet them as Pete noticed the paper sack Judd was carrying. “What’s in the poke?”

  Judd reached inside and pulled out a stack of small squares of wood bound with ribbon. He grasped the top block and held it up so the others hung down. Then he tilted the top piece of wood until it touched the block beneath it and appeared to come loose and cascade down the strand. He tilted the block the other direction to repeat the effect.

  Sally clapped her hands. “A Jacob’s Ladder. I haven’t seen one of those since I was a girl. Mother, come see what Judd brought us.”

  An older woman with gray hair in waves came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. “Well, I’ll be. Seems like your daddy knew how to make them things. She reached for the toy and made it cascade back and forth. “Now that takes me back.” She looked at Judd, eyes shining. “What a treat.”

  Judd ducked his head. “Sometimes I run out of things to do of an evening and I like to keep busy. Glad you don’t think it’s silly, me bringing you a toy.” He cleared his throat, feeling moisture rise to his own eyes. “My brother Joe could do all kinds of tricks with one of them things. Lost him in a mining accident last spring and it brought him back to me a little to make a Jacob’s Ladder.”

  Sally gave Judd a hug and rested her soft head against his shoulder for just a moment. “I think your present has brought us all some joy today. Now y’all get comfortable in here and we’ll have dinner dished up and on the table lickety-split.”