The Sound of Rain Page 20

  “Leave the dishes, Mother. I’ll do them when we get back.”

  They strolled along the streets, unconsciously heading for the ocean, not speaking at first. Larkin glanced at the tall, lanky man beside her. His skin had darkened with his outdoor work, and she thought maybe his limp was less pronounced than she remembered.

  “Do you like timber work better than mining?”

  Judd gazed off into the distance. “I suppose so. I certainly expected to when I came south.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked, head down for a few paces. “There was some good about mining, too. I miss old Harry. We’d break for lunch down there with nothing but mountain over our heads, and Harry’d tell stories to get us laughing so hard our ribs hurt. He was his own kind of sunshine.”

  “Is Harry still a miner?”

  “I reckon so. Don’t guess he’d much know how to do anything else. He never married, but he had a widowed sister with four young’uns he helped raise.”

  Larkin tried to think how to ask her next question. “Do you . . . ever think about going back? Not to mine necessarily,” she hurried to add, “but maybe to work your brother’s farm or . . . something.”

  Judd looked at her and it felt like he could see right through her. “My brother died in that mine cave-in that busted my leg. I haven’t had much of a stomach for home since then. He’s the one who wanted a job in South Carolina. Seemed like someone should follow that dream.” He gave her a lopsided grin, showing one dimple. “And it might be I’m starting to have a few dreams of my own.”

  Larkin stopped and touched his arm, effectively bringing Judd to a halt, as well. They were about a block from the closed-up Pavilion, and she could hear and smell the ocean beyond. “I didn’t know that about your brother.”

  “It’s not something I like to talk about.”

  “What was he like?” Larkin asked.

  Judd wasn’t expecting that question. He didn’t talk about Joe because people too often asked for the details of how he died, or how old he was at the time, and then they’d say things like it was a shame to lose him so young and he was in a better place. No one had ever asked what Joe was like.

  “Like sunshine after a week of rain.” Judd didn’t know where that’d come from. “They called him ‘Sunny’ down in the mine because he always made things seem a little brighter when he was around. Between him and Harry we were laughing all the time.” Judd looked toward the ocean—he could see waves cresting beyond the buildings—afternoon light catching in the spray. “He was supposed to be working where I was, but he was smaller and . . .” Judd choked on the words he’d never spoken aloud.

  Larkin took his hand and tugged him on down to the beach. They stood among the dunes, watching the water wash in and out. After a moment, Larkin said, “Only tell me if you want to.”

  Judd inhaled the salt air until it filled every bit of his coal-stained lungs.

  “Joe said he’d work my seam—it was tighter, hard for even the smallest man.” He closed his eyes, wishing for the darkness that almost swallowed him. “I let him go. I was glad of it. Didn’t even think twice, just took what was offered. And then . . .” His voice shook and he placed a hand over his closed eyes, trying to make it darker yet. “It was like a cannon going off, and I knew something had given way. I knew something bad had happened. I didn’t even think about him then. Only thought about hightailing it out of there. I didn’t any more than turn around before the whole mountain . . .” Judd fell to his knees in the soft sand. “It felt like the whole mountain came down on top of me.” Now he clamped both hands over his eyes. “The dark. I’d never known such dark, and my lamp was gone.”

  He felt a hand settle on his shoulder like a bird. “That sounds terrible.”

  Judd fisted his hands and pressed harder into his eyes until he saw stars dance. “I hardly even wondered if anyone else was alive. All I could do was wonder if I was dead.”

  He felt Larkin drop to the sand beside him and place an arm around his shoulders.

  “But you weren’t.”

  She reached up and pried first one hand and then the other from his face. He dropped back on his heels, eyes still closed. Then he felt a fluttering against his face and eyelids. It felt like . . . he blinked his eyes. She’d kissed his eyes open, and now he was looking deep into the clear blue of hers.

  “I’m so sorry Joe died. I think I would have liked him. But I’m awfully glad you’re alive, and I think maybe it’s time you stopped going back down into the dark.”

  Judd reached up and touched her cheek, which was just as silken as he’d long imagined. She leaned into his hand, and the sun setting somewhere behind him washed her skin in gold. He reached for her with both hands and kissed her as though, at long last, he’d been given permission.

  Chapter

  27

  Judd would have been glad to go back to the house and ask Mr. Heyward for permission to marry his daughter then and there, but he figured he’d better not rush it and scare her off. And anyway, he was still trying to figure out Mr. Heyward’s angle. No, the main thing he needed to do right now was figure out how to keep Larkin in South Carolina where he could court her proper.

  They stepped through the front door, hand in hand, but as soon as they cleared the threshold Judd felt the air change. Larkin must have felt it too, as she let his hand slip from hers and hurried forward to peer into the den where a fire still crackled.

  “Where is everybody?” she called.

  “We’re here.” That was Ben from inside the room. “Y’all come on in. Mom’s making spiced cider.”

  Judd trailed the woman he now knew he loved into the room, where Ben sat alone staring into the fire.

  “Mr. Heyward helping with the cider?” he asked.

  Ben laughed, but it didn’t sound like he was enjoying it. “He’s gone upstairs to read the paper. I guess you could say we had a conversation that didn’t quite go the way he liked.”

  Larkin knelt beside her brother’s chair. “Oh, Ben, is he still trying to talk you into taking over the company?”

  “Yes, and he made some good points. I told him I don’t feel called to run the timber company, but that I’d continue praying about it.” He shrugged. “God could change my mind yet, but I’m not looking for it to happen.”

  Larkin patted him on the knee and stood. “Maybe you should stop anticipating what God will do and just see what He does.”

  Ben stared at his sister, and this time his laughter sounded genuine. “That is a mighty fine piece of advice. When did you get so smart?”

  “While you were off gallivanting around Kentucky.” She sashayed across the room and settled in next to Judd on the sofa where she scooped up his hand.

  Judd felt his neck and then his ears turn red as Ben took in their linked fingers.

  “I’m thinking whatever conversation the two of you had, it went better than Dad’s and mine.”

  Judd was saved from answering when Mrs. Heyward appeared carrying a tray with steaming cups. He released Larkin’s hand to reach for some cider, but not before a mother’s sharp eyes noticed everything. Mrs. Heyward pursed her lips but didn’t comment.

  After some idle conversation, Judd excused himself, thanked his hostess and headed for the door. Larkin followed him and caught his arm as he reached for the knob. Judd wanted to scoop her in his arms and kiss her again, but hesitated since he was in her father’s house.

  “I want to call on you—take you out and do this proper,” he said laying a hand over her fingers where they warmed his arm.

  She giggled. “Do what?”

  He looked into her sparkling blue eyes and smiled. He was pretty sure she would always be able to make him smile. “Court you. Woo you.” He almost said Marry you, but thought it might be too much.

  “I’d like that, but we’re going back to Kentucky day after tomorrow.”

  Judd’s smile slipped. “I thought you might stay longer.” He shifted his weight off his bad leg. “Thought you m
ight even decide to stay here for good.”

  Larkin touched his cheek. “Back in Kentucky, after that day we spent with Granny Jane, I thought the same thing about you staying there.”

  Judd felt the desire to push her away and wrap her close in equal parts. He’d thought she understood, really and truly knew how important it was for him to follow the path Joe had laid out before dying. Maybe he’d even thought that kiss meant she cared enough to want to be where he was. He let his hand fall away from hers.

  “Guess we both got it wrong,” he said and opened the door. He stepped through and turned to see her stricken face one last time. As he did, he caught a glimpse of Mr. Heyward, standing at the top of the stairs, a calculating gleam in his eye.

  The first day back at work after Christmas was cold. Judd rubbed his hands together and thought this might actually qualify even back home. The humid air made the weather sink into his bones, and his leg ached with a fierceness he hadn’t experienced in months. The temperature dampened the men’s enthusiasm for working, and the day dragged. When the third man brought Judd a chainsaw that didn’t need anything but a little kerosene in the bar oil, he felt like cussing and asking them if they were all fools.

  He didn’t, though, knowing he was the biggest fool of them all for letting an auburn-haired girl with laughing eyes slip away.

  Chuck wandered over, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and shoulders hunched under his jacket. “Cold enough for ya?”

  Judd didn’t suppose that required an answer.

  “You talk to your pal Pete lately?”

  “Not since Thanksgiving. Heard he got a job over at Henderson’s woodlot.”

  Chuck nodded. “I don’t know how close the two of you are, but seems like you’re the only one Pete ever warmed up to. Thought you might want to know he’s headed for a world of trouble if he’s not careful.”

  Judd put down the chain he was sharpening. “How’s that?”

  “Apparently he’s found some no-good attorney who’s talked him into trying to get his daddy’s land back from Mr. Heyward. Pete’s been going around talking big about how he’s going to take him to court and clean him out. Says he’ll end up owning Waccamaw Timber Company before it’s all said and done.”

  Judd sighed. Sure sounded like Pete. “Why’re you telling me?”

  Chuck shrugged. “Thought you might want to give your friend some advice that’s worth more than a plugged nickel.” He squinted over to a trash barrel, where some of the men had built a fire and were goofing off around it. “I’d better get over there and break up the sewing circle. Those boys’ll stand around and gossip as long as I let ’em.”

  Judd watched Chuck walk away. He tried not to care what kind of hole Pete had dug for himself this time, but he hated to see the mess it would cause not only Pete but also Larkin’s family. He flinched. Life sure would be easier if he could go back to not caring about anyone.

  Larkin and Ben got back to Logan in plenty of time to celebrate Old Christmas, but Larkin felt more keenly than ever the need to help these people—whether they wanted her to or not. In a fit of optimism, she talked Maude into helping her organize a dance in the church hall. Maybe if she could show the locals some hospitality, they’d warm up to her.

  The dance was set for Thursday, January sixth—Granny’s Old Christmas. Larkin was so nervous she could hardly do anything. She’d made pan after pan of fudge that was only a little grainy, while Maude made divinity with the pecans Ben brought her from South Carolina. Hot apple cider perfumed the air, and the potbellied stove radiated warmth. Larkin agonized over what to wear. She didn’t have anything nearly as nice as she would have worn back home, but she worried that even her simpler clothes might make people think she was putting on airs. Plus her hair wouldn’t cooperate. She tried it in three different styles but nothing looked right.

  “Maude, I can’t get my hair to do and I don’t know what to wear.” Larkin felt like a child throwing a tantrum, but she was at her wit’s end. “Not that anyone will even look at me, except what if they do?”

  Maude settled the last platter of treats on a long table near the windows and rolled her sleeves down. She was wearing a simple green skirt and a rough blouse with a lily of the valley stickpin near the collar. Larkin halfway wished she could just borrow Maude’s outfit.

  “Larkin honey, they’ll be looking at you most of all. You’re like a rose blooming out of season around here.”

  Larkin flushed, a wave of hopelessness washing over her. This dance was a terrible idea. “I just want to fit in,” she mumbled, hanging her head.

  “Tell you what. That package over there in the corner is a present Granny Jane done sent you. She wanted you to open it after all the hubbub died down, but if it’s what I think it is, you oughta open it now.”

  Larkin hadn’t noticed the package wrapped in the funny papers, lying on her pillow in the corner. She went and picked it up, quickly peeling back the paper. It was a dress. The golden fabric was a sort of rough Swiss dot with pleats at the shoulders and sleeves, and white fabric showing where the collar folded back. It wasn’t anything she would have even considered wearing back in South Carolina.

  “Granny had that fabric saved for some reason or another. She got Lucille Hardin to make up a dress out of it. Said you needed something practical but pretty to wear around here if you was going to keep sticking your nose into other people’s business.” Maude took it from Larkin and held it up against her body. “Guess it’ll fit alright. It ain’t fancy like what you got there,” she said and indicated the gauzy dress Larkin had hung on the wardrobe door. “But it’s more like what everybody else’ll be wearing, if fitting in is your aim.”

  Larkin held the dress to her body. It was the opposite of everything she’d known, and she decided that made it absolutely perfect. She ducked behind the curtain and slipped it on over her head. It settled in place more or less. It was a little loose, but she found it much more comfortable than the stiff dresses and snug sashes she was used to with party dresses. She pulled her hair into her signature ponytail and twisted that into a loose bun. She glanced in the mirror Ben kept over the washbasin and barely recognized herself. She looked . . . plain. No, not plain, simple. Real. Like for the first time ever, she wasn’t pretending to be more than she was. It felt good.

  Maude looked her up and down. “That’ll give ’em one less thing to talk about.”

  Larkin giggled. “Am I depriving them?”

  Maude huffed. “Most likely, but they need to be deprived. Now git on out there. I hear Paul’s old truck limping into the yard. He’ll be bringing the players.”

  As it turned out, Paul was the best banjo player in the county, if not the state, and his presence guaranteed the attendance of several other musicians, as well as a fair-sized crowd. Larkin had thought to organize the dancing, maybe teach them all a few shag steps, but after an awkward demonstration from her, Ben stepped in and suggested a local fellow call a few squares. The next thing Larkin knew, she’d lost all semblance of control.

  At first she was annoyed. This was supposed to be her gift to the community, but as she joined in the dancing—which even included a few old country dances—she realized she was having a wonderful time. As she and Ben partnered to dance a reel the length of the building, she found she didn’t care what she was wearing or that her hair was coming out of its pins. There was no pretense about these people, and she wanted to live like this always.

  As the evening wore on, Ben finally had to pretty much force the musicians to stop and everyone to pack up and go home. Sleepy children were slung over shoulders, courting couples slipped away hand in hand, and the old women stopped talking long enough to wake their drowsing husbands so they could walk out arm in arm.

  When Maude finally exited with a drooping Kyle, Larkin looked around to determine if the mess could be left until morning. But there was no mess. The little bit of remaining food had been packed up and put away. The furniture had been relocated to its usual
places, and the fire had even been banked.

  “It’s all done,” she said, eyes wide.

  “Respect for the church building,” Ben said. “And maybe for the newcomers—that’d be you and me. With a few notable exceptions, folks around here take pride in never being what you might call a burden.”

  “That’s why no one will let me help them.” It wasn’t a question. Larkin thought maybe she finally understood. Tears rose. “Will I ever be any good to these people? I thought I was going to make a difference in their lives. I thought I was going to help the poor and take care of hungry children. Why am I even here?”

  Ben snugged an arm around her shoulders. “I think you do help, just not in the way you imagined. You’ve been good for Granny, and I think you gave Kyle incentive to keep doing his exercises so he’d get stronger. And this dance was a blessing to lots of folks. Paul lost his job just before Christmas. The mandolin player’s wife died last summer—he’s raising four children with only his mother to help.” He squeezed her arm. “There are a dozen sad stories I know of and probably twice that many I don’t. Just having you around for a distraction helps more than you realize.”

  Larkin looked down at her simple dress and put a hand to her falling-down hair. “I guess I am something of an oddity, although being a circus sideshow wasn’t what I had in mind when I braved Daddy’s wrath to join you here.”

  “Life almost never has the same thing in mind that you do. Try to roll with the punches, little sister.”

  Granny Jane summoned Larkin to her cabin the following day to share every detail of the evening before. Larkin wore her new dress, which seemed to delight the old woman.

  “That cloth come to me when my aunt Maybell passed. She left some household sundries to me, and I never could decide what to do with yeller cloth. I don’t look good wearing that color and it seemed too fine for curtains.” Granny waved a hand at her bare windows. “When I got the idea to have Lucille make it up into a dress for you, I was so excited I could hardly hold it in.” She cocked her head one way and then the other. “Might need to nip it in a bit at the waist there, but I guess Lucille did alright not having you to measure firsthand. And that gold goes good with your hair.”