The Sound of Rain Read online

  Judd settled on the sofa next to Floyd and started talking politics with Pete. He was glad his gift had been appreciated. Between that and all the good smells coming from the kitchen, he could almost keep his homesickness at bay. An image of Larkin at Granny Jane’s table flashed through his mind and he wondered how she was faring so far from home. At least as well as him, he hoped.

  Chapter

  23

  Larkin had never given much thought to where her food came from, but this Thanksgiving she was all too aware. They’d held a community hog killing the previous week, and after losing her breakfast in the bushes, she wasn’t certain she could eat pork ever again. Which is exactly what was in the oven as she helped Maude cook a feast in the church hall for folks who didn’t have families or couldn’t be with them.

  Granny Jane was coming, as was Maude’s unmarried son, Paul. Then there was Darlene, a mother of two whose husband had run off back in September. They’d round out the party with Ben, Larkin, and Kyle, who was well enough that folks weren’t afraid of him anymore. Larkin had asked when he’d return to his family, and Ben got a grim look.

  “Kyle has six brothers and sisters, and his parents seem willing to leave their second-to-youngest child in the care of the church for as long as we’re willing to keep him.” He rubbed a hand over tired eyes. “I’m not sure they can afford to give him the food and rest he needs, so I hate to send him back.”

  Larkin wrapped an arm around her brother’s waist. “Well, I’m head over heels for him, so I’m glad he’s still here.”

  Ben squeezed her in return. “He’s pretty smitten with you, too.”

  Larkin smiled, feeling content in spite of the challenges she’d faced since coming. Other than Granny Jane, the locals didn’t seem to want her help. Every time she knocked on a door with a basket of inferior baked goods over her arm, she was met with little more than polite distance. She’d even offered to watch Darlene’s children for her while she looked for work. The woman, who couldn’t be much older than Larkin, stiffened and said she didn’t need any handouts. Larkin assured her it wasn’t a handout but rather a helping hand, until Darlene finally blurted, “You need to go now.” Larkin had never been so humiliated. She blushed even now just thinking of it.

  “Larkin, will you stir the creamed corn and push it back to a cooler part of the stove?” Maude was bent over the oven, turning and basting the pork roast that somehow smelled sharp and metallic since Larkin had seen it walking around less than a week ago. She pushed down a wave of nausea and told herself it was the same as the Sunday roasts her mother had made time and again.

  Granny Jane had promised to bring several pickled items, and Darlene was in charge of biscuits since it was hard to roast meat and bake bread all in the same oven. Sweet potatoes cooked in the same pan as the pork, and Larkin had cubed turnips into a pot of greens just a little while ago. She was probably over-stirring everything, but she was terrified that something might burn. Surveying the feast, Larkin couldn’t help but compare it to what she was used to.

  Back home there would be a turkey stuffed with dressing on a Johnson Brothers platter. There would be fresh oysters and wild rice along with collard greens and macaroni and cheese. And Mother would spoon jellies and sweet pickles into crystal dishes for the center of the table, which would be graced with a big bouquet of camellias.

  Larkin smiled at the bowl of russet leaves and acorns she’d placed in the middle of the table. Maude had given them a funny look but didn’t comment. Larkin supposed dressing the table wasn’t a priority around here, yet she felt like it was her special contribution. It occurred to her that maybe Judd would appreciate that sort of thing.

  Now, where did that thought come from? Larkin stirred the corn and shifted pots to make sure everything was at the right temperature. Judd was probably having a fine time down south and not even thinking about her. Most likely she’d run him off with that kiss in the smokehouse—too forward and too fast. He wasn’t like the boys she’d known in South Carolina. No, Judd was a man and probably hadn’t appreciated the way she put herself forward.

  Granny entered with a burst of cold air and the tobacco smell of fall just in time to distract Larkin from her thoughts. She carried a basket clanking with canned stuff. Larkin hurried over and relieved her new friend of her burden.

  “They’s an apple stack cake in there, too. Been baking it a layer at a time since last Friday. I figured to go another layer or two, but I give out.”

  Larkin lifted the tea towel laid over the top of the basket and found a spice-laden cake, rich with stewed apples along with three jars of various pickles. Kyle hung against her arm, eyeing the cake. “Shoo now. No dessert until you’ve had your dinner.”

  Kyle grinned and scooted over to the table where he used every bit of his strength to pull out a chair for Granny to sit.

  “Is that one of them Dandridge young’uns?” Granny asked. “He looks like his pa, but he acts a whole lot better.”

  “Now, Granny,” Ben said. “Love thy neighbor.”

  “Oh, I love ’em alright, I just don’t always like ’em much.”

  Larkin smiled and felt her worries over Judd and the meal dissipate. What was done was done and it didn’t bear thinking about anymore. She began helping Maude dish up the food and transfer it to the table with its odd assortment of chairs and mismatched plates. As they all settled down to bless the feast, she told herself it was the loveliest table setting she’d ever seen.

  Judd, Floyd, and Pete retired to the backyard after dinner. Judd had enjoyed most everything, even if some of the food wasn’t quite what he was used to. When he’d taken a big ole bite of dressing, he’d wanted to spit it out into his napkin, but swallowed to be polite. At first he thought it had spoiled, but then came to learn it was oyster dressing, which was a bad idea if he ever heard one. Still, the rest of the meal was tasty, and he supposed everyone had their oddities.

  Pete leaned back in his chair and crossed his feet at the ankles. He laced his fingers across his belly and squinted at Judd. “I ain’t beating around the bush anymore. I’m going to come right out and ask. Did you leave Heyward’s daughter with that prodigal son of his?”

  Judd remembered the night Pete drank too much moonshine. He’d mentioned Ben that night—called him a prodigal then, but Judd hadn’t put that comment together to figure out Ben was Larkin’s brother. Even now, he wasn’t sure he should discuss any of this with Pete, who seemed to have a chip on his shoulder where Mr. Heyward was concerned.

  “Why you asking?”

  “Oh, well, I like to know the lay of the land. Might be a rumor that Ben’s refusing to take over the family business. That’d leave the future of Waccamaw Timber wide open.” Pete dug out a ready-made cigarette and lit it. “So, you run him to ground? Does it look like he’ll be coming on home anytime soon?”

  Judd shifted and kneaded his leg more out of habit than because it hurt. “I gotta tell ya, Pete, I don’t think any of this is my business or yours. Might be we should leave Mr. Heyward’s family to him to sort out.”

  Pete grunted. “Might be my business more than you know. You keep your cards tight to your chest if you want, but I’m gonna find out what I can before it’s too late.” He got a cagey look. “You ever decide you want to throw in with me and maybe we’ll go see can’t we dig up some treasure that’ll make George Heyward sing a different tune.”

  This was the second time Pete had mentioned treasure. Judd’s curiosity was aroused, but he figured he’d better let the conversation go. His mother always said curiosity killed the cat, and he was beginning to suspect she was right.

  Floyd, as though sensing a distraction was needed, drew out a pocketknife and began cleaning his nails. “That mother-in-law of yours is a widow, right?”

  Pete sat up straighter and looked at the older man hard. “She is. You looking for someone to spark?”

  “She’s a handsome woman and a mighty fine cook. I’m not thinking to get married again, but ma
ybe she’d like to drink some coffee and talk about old times.”

  Pete snorted. “She probably would. Don’t look at me to do anything about it, though. I’m not playing cupid for an old codger.”

  “Fair enough,” Floyd said. “Judd, what say we go see if the ladies need us to stack dishes on the high shelves for ’em? In my experience, they like that sort of thing.”

  Judd stood and stretched out his back. “Sure thing. Then we’d best be getting on back. Pete and I still have to work tomorrow.”

  They shook hands all around and then Judd trailed into the house after Floyd, who did seem to have a little extra pep in his step. Thinking of Larkin once again, he guessed a pretty girl could do that to a fellow.

  Judd had his head under the hood of a truck when Chuck found him the next day.

  “Got the crew shutting down the site,” he said. “Come Monday we’re moving to a new location. Supposed to be one of the best stands of timber in this part of the state and far enough inland that the storm didn’t knock it flat. You ready for some new scenery?”

  Judd straightened and looked around. “I’ve been on several jobsites and I can’t say as there appears to be much difference in the scenery.”

  Chuck laughed and slapped Judd on the shoulder. “That’s the gospel truth. From what I hear, Mr. Heyward’s been sitting on this one for a while and it’s not just pine but some real pretty hardwood. Hank said parts of it could’ve been harvested four or five years ago and it’s been on the books for thirty years.” He lowered his voice. “Kind of makes me wonder if the old man’s in a pinch for some extra cash. With the market flooded by storm timber, prices have been low. Maybe he’s been saving this one back for an emergency.”

  Judd had nothing to say to that. He tried to avoid speculation—especially when it concerned his employer.

  Chuck saw a worker taking his ease, hollered at him, and darted off in that direction before the silence became awkward. Judd watched the foreman go, trying not to think overmuch about what he’d said. Mr. Heyward could do as he pleased with his property, and Judd didn’t need to have an opinion one way or the other.

  When Judd arrived at the new jobsite on Monday morning, there seemed to be something of a commotion going on. He worked his way through a gaggle of workers to see Pete standing on his skidder with a trimming saw in his hand, waving it around and hollering.

  “. . . no right to cut this timber. Land and the trees on it are as good as stolen. It’s time we stopped taking this lying down and stood up to George Heyward and his kind.” He reached down and lifted the floor panel of the skidder and jammed the saw inside. He rammed it up and down several times before some men reached him and hauled him down.

  Chuck grabbed Pete by the collar. Both men were red in the face, but now Pete was mostly still as men held him on each side.

  “What in tarnation are you carrying on about?” demanded Chuck. He loosened his grip and took a deep breath. “It’s just another job. Nothing different about this one. Now, what’s got you so riled up?”

  Pete’s lip curled, and for a minute Judd thought he might spit on the foreman. Then some of the fire went out of him and the men holding him relaxed their grips. “Don’t matter,” Pete said. “Not like I can prove anything.” He hung his head and sagged. “But I can’t work here, either.”

  “Not after fouling the machinery up, you can’t,” Chuck said. He caught a glimpse of Judd, who’d eased on up to the front of the crowd. “Unless Judd there can fix it. Then I might get by with docking you a day’s pay.” He reached out and gripped Pete’s shoulder. “You got ahold of yourself now?”

  Pete shrugged away from the men holding him and took several steps toward his truck. “That I do. And what I meant was, I ain’t going to work here. I quit. Find yourself some other skidder operator.”

  He walked to his truck, got in, and drove away without looking back. Chuck watched him go, face blank and eyes wide.

  “What do you make of that?” he said to no one in particular. Then he turned and headed for Judd. “You can fix machines. Can you run ’em? These boys can cut awhile before we need the skidder anyhow.”

  Judd rubbed his chin. “Probably, but let me get in there and see what Pete’s done before we get ahead of ourselves.”

  Chuck nodded, then shooed the rest of the men off to work. Judd approached the skidder wondering what in the world had set Pete off like that.

  Chapter

  24

  Larkin crumpled the sheet of paper and threw it into the stove where it flared then died. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find the words to reconnect with her father. Which made her wonder if they’d ever really had a connection in the first place.

  Ben came in from visiting in the community, which Larkin had learned meant pitching in with odd jobs wherever anyone would allow. She’d tried to go with him, but everyone treated her like a porcelain doll. Too fragile and pretty to be good for anything but looking at. From the looks of Ben today, he’d been filling someone’s coal bin. An image of Judd flashed across Larkin’s mind. He must have been even blacker after actually working in a coal mine.

  “What’re you up to there, little sister? I thought Granny Jane was going to teach you to make a dried apple pie this afternoon.”

  “She sent word that her niece had come to visit and asked me to come tomorrow instead. Not that I’d be any better at making a pie than biscuits, chicken, or anything else Granny’s tried to teach me.” Larkin looked at the blank sheet of note paper in front of her. “So I thought I’d write to Daddy, but I can’t think what to say. Telling him I’m an utter failure around here would only give him satisfaction.”

  Ben rinsed the worst of the grime off his hands in a washbasin and sat down next to Larkin. “I’ve had that problem myself from time to time.”

  “Which problem? Being a failure or not knowing what to write?”

  “Both, actually. Dad sees me as a failure, and I struggle to know what to say to him.”

  “But you only wrote to Mother.”

  “I wrote Dad every few months. Probably both of them were keeping the letters from each other.” Ben pinched the bridge of his nose. “Or maybe he threw them away without opening them. I don’t really know. He never wrote back, so . . .” He shrugged.

  “What did you write?” Larkin leaned on her elbows and cradled her chin.

  “Mostly I wrote about what I was doing. I’d describe the people I encountered, talk about the problems they were facing, how hard it was for me to get them to trust anything I offered. I hoped he’d see how important my work is and forgive me for not sticking around to take over the timber company.”

  Larkin pondered that a moment. “Maybe he was hoping in turn that you’d see how important his work is.”

  Ben laughed, then wrinkled his brow when Larkin didn’t laugh with him. “You’re serious. Do you really think making money by stripping the land of its resources is as important as sharing the gospel with these people?”

  “No. Not that. But Hank’s told me about some of the men who work for Daddy and how much they need good-paying jobs so they can take care of their families. And Judd, he did more than just work with those men. He’s the one who helped another worker when he got hurt on the job, and he visited him until he was well again. I think they’re still friends.”

  She took a breath and leaned back in her chair. “And I always kind of thought I wasn’t doing much at the hospital, but seems like what those people needed most is the same as the people around here. They just want someone to listen to them and care about them.” She sighed. “Not that they talk to me, but I hear what they say to you—how they trust you with their troubles.”

  Ben looked like he was really paying attention now—leaning forward, arms folded on the table between them. Larkin noted the black under his fingernails and wondered how long it had taken Judd to get his clean after he decided not to go into the mines anymore.

  “Anyway, as much as I love it here, I’m begi
nning to think you can do God’s work anywhere. All you have to do is look for someone who’s hurting and see if you can ease the pain.”

  Ben laughed softly. “Little sister, you just preached me the best sermon I’ve heard in a long time. Might have to put you in the pulpit come Sunday.”

  Larkin felt her cheeks warm. “I don’t know about that. I just think maybe Daddy’s hurting and I wish I could help him, too.”

  Ben stood and came around the table to give her a hug. He spoke, but his voice sounded thick. “That’s exactly what I want. Thanks for reminding me.”

  He walked over to the stove and picked up the coffeepot that always sat there keeping warm. He poured a measure into a thick mug and sipped. “I have an idea.”

  Larkin turned to face him, feeling excitement rise. Something about his expression made her think she was going to like this idea.

  “How about you and me go home for Christmas?”

  Larkin rose and knelt in her chair to face her brother more fully. “You mean back to South Carolina? With Mother and Daddy?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. You write and tell Mom to expect two extra at her table come Christmas Eve. Dad claims I’m not welcome there, but I don’t think he’ll turn me away at Christmas.” Doubt skittered across his face, but then he steeled himself. “Maybe we can figure out what to do about the timber company while we’re there.”

  Larkin clapped her hands. “This will be the best Christmas ever.”

  After work, Judd drove over to Pete’s. He’d gotten the skidder working and operated it all afternoon. He had a new respect for Pete’s skill in using the piece of equipment, but he didn’t think now was the time to mention it.

  As soon as he stepped up onto the porch, he smelled pork chops frying and his mouth started to water. He didn’t mean for them to ask him to stay to dinner, but if they did he sure wouldn’t turn it down.