The Sound of Rain Page 9

  Judd wasn’t sure if she was cautioning them to behave in her house while she was gone or was offering a warning about the coming storm. He decided to walk the few blocks to the beach. He had the feeling something was happening down there and he wanted to see it for himself.

  On his way to the beach, Judd didn’t see another soul. No cars were out, and people—if they were still around—stayed indoors. He’d always liked storms—they made his spirit lift inside him as though responding to the wildness without. But this evening his spirit cowered and he had to force himself to keep going. Surely he’d see the danger before it arrived. A storm couldn’t drop on a man from nowhere. He glanced at the sky and suppressed a shiver.

  He wished Joe could see this. He wished his brother were there with him experiencing the wonder and thrill of the coming storm. He glanced to his right and saw the carousel in front of the Pavilion sitting quiet. The animals seemed to be frozen in the very act of fleeing the hurricane. Judd had an urge to turn them loose.

  A few steps more and Judd finally saw the ocean beyond the Pavilion. He hadn’t planned to come here, but it was a good spot. He moved around the building to the boardwalk, and his stomach clenched. He’d seen the ocean in several moods by now, but he’d had no idea it could stand up, five times taller than a man, and crash to the shore as though it meant to consume the very earth in its path. It was horrifying and wonderful at the same time. And it looked like it had already exceeded its limits—creeping up the steps toward the Pavilion itself.

  “Joe, what you make of that?” he whispered.

  And it was as though he could hear Joe laughing inside his head. “Ma would tell us to get our hind ends up on top of a mountain and right quick.”

  Judd laughed, too. That was what Ma would say, but Joe, he’d stick right here and watch the storm roll in. He always liked to be where the action was. Judd let the tears come then. Rain had begun falling again like someone flipped a switch, and the wind lashed at his clothes like it wanted to strip him bare. And maybe he was laid bare standing there with nature roaring around him and grief washing over him. But this time he felt the grief pass through and come out the other side. It had been stuck in his craw for too long. The storm and the image of Joe laughing finally knocked something loose and Judd took a deep breath, opening his arms wide to the roar and crash of the weather.

  This storm could kill him if he wasn’t careful, but if it didn’t he thought he just might decide to live again. It’s what Joe would’ve wanted. He might even start making plans of his own instead of just trying to live out Joe’s dream. He’d come a long way at Waccamaw Timber, mostly by luck, but if he was intentional about his future—well, he just might have one here in South Carolina.

  Judd stood and let the wind and rain pummel him and scrub his soul clean for a good long while. If he closed his eyes, the storm sounded like a waterfall he and Joe had once found while hunting. There’d been heavy rains that spring, and the small creek had been transformed into a rushing torrent. Joe dared him to stand under the pounding cascade, then jumped in there himself, laughing and hollering at how cold it was. Judd only stuck a foot in after him before changing his mind and then they sat in the sun, talking. Judd wished he could remember what all they talked about, but he didn’t suppose it mattered so long as he remembered it was good.

  He felt like he was getting used to the storm and he was pretty sure it wasn’t getting any worse. Surely if it were going to get worse, he’d know it by now. Soaked and chilled, he finally turned to begin the walk back to the boardinghouse. He saw movement at the corner of the building and let the wind push him that way.

  The open-air section of the Pavilion was dark with rain and utterly empty. Except for a girl with a ponytail. And she was . . . dancing. Judd crept closer, hid behind a post, and watched. Sure enough, it was Larkin. Her wet dress clung to her, and she did what he guessed was that shag dance everyone seemed to love so much. She was good at it, and it occurred to him that even wet, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. He swallowed hard. Maybe especially wet.

  She turned, and he stepped out from behind the post, clearing his throat, which didn’t seem like much noise in the midst of a tempest. She squawked and clutched at her chest.

  “Where in the world did you come from?”

  Judd angled his head back toward the ocean. “Been watching this here storm roll in. Can’t say as I’ve ever seen anything quite like it.”

  Larkin stood perfectly still in the midst of chaos, the wind playing havoc with her hair. “I don’t suppose you would have in a landlocked place like West Virginia.”

  Judd thought he heard a tension in her voice that wasn’t necessarily due to the storm bearing down on them. Just then the wind abated and the rain stopped. He looked up to see a clear spot in the sky where a full moon showed through.

  “Folks might excuse me for being out here since a hillbilly like me doesn’t know any better, but what are you doing out on a night like this?”

  Larkin sighed and glanced at the moon as a cloud scudded across it, hiding it once again. “High tide tomorrow morning. Extra high with the full moon.” She glanced toward the ocean where the waves were like barely contained animals straining at their tethers. The roar was deafening, and for a moment Judd felt as though the sea were a lion seeking to devour him. “I don’t suppose either of us ought to be out here even though it’s not too bad yet. Still, once I set foot outside the house, I just felt so . . . free. Then I decided to come see if the Pavilion would be alright. Might be my last summer to dance here.”

  Judd wrinkled his forehead and tried to put a lightness in his voice. “You going somewhere?”

  She shot him a look he almost might call mean, except he was pretty sure she couldn’t look mean. “No thanks to you. But if I have my way, the letter I just mailed means I’ll get to live out my dreams yet.”

  He raised his eyebrows. Dang, she was pretty when she was worked up. “That right? Would this be the dream to rescue all those poor mountain children?” He sounded more derisive than he meant to, but she’d apparently already dismissed him from her world.

  “Yes, sir. Just as soon as Ben tells me I can come—” She stopped abruptly and darted a look at him. “What I mean to say is just as soon as I get word back from Kentucky, I’ll pack my bags and head north.”

  Ben. There was that name again. He wanted to ask who this man was that George Heyward was hunting and Larkin was apparently running off to be with. Well now, that right there might explain a few things. If Larkin was in love with someone Mr. Heyward had sent packing, that would explain her interest in the mountains and this silly notion that she was going to go be a help there. She was looking at the situation through rose-colored glasses.

  The wind picked back up as if suddenly remembering what it had been doing. Rain began pelting them, stinging and tasting of salt. Judd squinted at Larkin, who hunched her shoulders and glared at the sky like she was daring it to do its worst. He took a step toward her and saw most of the tin roof from a building across the street lift into the air, turn like it was finding just the right angle, and fly toward them.

  Judd tackled Larkin, covering her body with his own. The roofing slammed into bleachers near where they lay and rattled like it wanted nothing more than to fly once again. Judd gathered Larkin into his arms and bolted for the main building. Her feet hit the ground now and again, but he was mostly carrying her. He burst through a door wondering why in the world it was unlocked and stopped inside to catch his breath. His leg throbbed unmercifully, and Larkin panted beside him.

  “What are you kids doing over there?” The voice boomed through the empty building. A burly man with shirtsleeves rolled up past his elbows approached them at a trot. “Storm watching, were you? Y’all must not be from around here.” He glared at them, hands on his hips. “Fools like you are why storms like this kill people.”

  Larkin was shaking now. Judd wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Yes, sir. It was foolhardy for su
re.”

  The man threw his hands in the air and shook his head. “Way I see it, that storm’s going to put high tide right where we’re standing even if they are right about old Hazel pushing out to sea. Came down here to open the doors so it can wash through and maybe leave this old gal standing.”

  He squinted at Larkin. “Aren’t you George Heyward’s girl?”

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  “George know you’re out?” He eyed Judd as though he might feed him to the ocean.

  “No. I just had to come see if the Pavilion was alright and . . . and this man”—she glanced at Judd as she moved out of the circle of his arm—“was kind enough to rescue me.”

  The man blew a huff of breath through his nose. “Fine, fine. I don’t have time to sort out your mess. Young man, you help me get this building ready and then I’ll run you both home.” He rolled his eyes toward Larkin. “Quiet-like.”

  “Thank you,” she said.

  Judd helped open doors and move anything loose to a more secure location. When they were done, the storm had quieted again—Judd was beginning to understand that it came in fits and starts—and he assured the big man he could make it to his boardinghouse on his own.

  “Son, if this storm keeps coming, you’d best be skedaddling back over the causeway. A storm surge can climb higher than you’d ever dream if it hits just right.”

  Judd nodded his head, looked at Larkin one last time, and ducked out into the stormy night.

  Larkin couldn’t get her teeth to stop chattering. She clenched her jaw as the man from the Pavilion who knew her daddy drove her home through streets awash in rain while wind lashed at the palmettos and flung debris clattering against the windshield. She tried not to think about that moment when she lay flat on the ground with Judd Markley stretched out over her, protecting her from whatever the storm might bring. It was the safest she’d ever felt.

  As soon as the car stopped in front of her house, she jumped out with hurried thanks and scooted inside the same front door she’d slipped out of earlier. She pushed it shut behind her and held her breath, listening. The television was on in the den, and she could see her mother’s slipper-shod foot where she sat in her usual high-backed chair. If tradition held true, Daddy would be stretched out on the sofa with papers stacked on the end table at his elbow, bourbon glass close at hand.

  Larkin waited for the noise on the television to reach a crescendo and tiptoed past the door on the far side of the hall where the light was dim. She assumed she’d made it when no one spoke from inside the den. She darted up the stairs and shut herself in the hall bathroom, where she turned on the shower and soon stepped under the warm spray. She finally felt as though her pulse was slowing, as though she could get a deep breath. Her left arm stung, and she craned her neck to see a cut just below her shoulder. It wasn’t bad, but it reminded her of how close she’d come to—what? Serious injury at the very least.

  It had been silly, her notion to walk the dozen blocks to the Pavilion on a night when a hurricane brewed off the coast. It had been four blocks to the nearest mailbox, and at that point she’d felt an undeniable tug to see if her beloved dance floor was intact. Her thought had been that if she really were going to go off and be a missionary alongside Ben, she might not dance there again. At least not anytime soon.

  Being alone with the storm thrilling the air around her, she’d felt . . . more alive than she knew was possible. She couldn’t have turned around and just gone home at that point. Who knew Judd Markley would be out in the storm, too?

  She toweled herself dry and slipped into a fluffy terry-cloth robe.

  “Larkin.” There was a tap at the door.

  “Yes, Mama?”

  “We’re calling it a night. You aren’t afraid of the storm, are you? We could all camp out in the den like we did when you and . . . when you were small.”

  Larkin opened the door as she ran a comb through her wet hair. Her mother looked uncertain—maybe a little vulnerable. She gave her a quick hug.

  “I’m not afraid. Are they still saying it’s going to blow out to sea?”

  Her mother glanced over her shoulder to where a streetlight shone through the bedroom window, illuminating the tossing trees outside.

  “They’re talking about it hitting a glancing blow now, but I’m not so sure.”

  Larkin felt an unexpected lightness remembering her close call, the letter that Ben would receive soon, and the way Judd looked at her after he’d pulled her inside the Pavilion. She smiled.

  “Oh well, I guess we’ll be fine either way.”

  She reached for the light switch, but before she could flip it, the power flickered once, twice, and plunged them into darkness.

  Chapter

  13

  Judd tried to go to sleep and must have drifted off when the dying whir of his fan woke him. He glanced out the window into an eerie darkness—no streetlights, no windows aglow, nothing. Power must be out. He was only thankful it wasn’t quite so dark as the bottom of a mine.

  He heard a thump and found his way to the door. A voice came from the hallway.

  “Got a candle or a lamp or anything?”

  “Nope. Seems like Mrs. Hardee had some candles on that side table in the dining room.”

  The two men fumbled their way to the dining room, located the candles, produced a box of matches, and finally lit the room. Somewhat.

  Judd squinted at the older fellow he’d seen around the place. They’d been introduced early on but hadn’t had much cause to socialize. Judd thought he remembered the man’s name was Floyd. Floyd Bellamy. He rarely had much to say, just ate and returned to his room. Nodded when they passed in the hall. Judd had no idea what he did with his days. He supposed this was his chance to get to know his neighbor.

  “You from around here?” Judd asked.

  Floyd nodded his head and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. “All my life. Ain’t seen too many hurricanes, though. Had a brush with one in forty-four, but that was mostly just rain.” He glanced toward the rain-lashed window. “Not like this.”

  “Reckon we’re safe?”

  Floyd shrugged. “One thing I’ve learned in this life—there’s no such thing as safe. My wife got took when a bad tooth poisoned her blood. She wasn’t safe just sitting in the parlor on a Sunday afternoon.”

  Judd slid down beside him. They were in the corner of an inside wall, and he figured if a tree fell they’d be in a fair spot to survive.

  As though he could read Judd’s thoughts, Floyd tapped the floor next to them. “’Course, the main worry is that there full-moon tide. If this storm really does come ashore, it’s going to hit pretty close to high tide and I’ve seen water shoot so far inland you’d think the beach would never show again.”

  Judd pictured the distance between them and the ocean. “Surely it wouldn’t come this far.”

  Floyd sighed and hunched his shoulders. “Hope not.” He sat in silence a moment. “You going back to bed?”

  Judd shifted, trying to stretch his leg out into a more comfortable position. “I’m thinking I’ll just sit here and wait her out. How about you?”

  “I was thinking the same. Tilt your head on back there and get some shut-eye if’n you can. Gonna be a long night.”

  Judd nodded, thinking there was no way he’d ever sleep sitting up against the wall in a strange house while a storm raged outside. But he must have drifted off, because the next thing he knew, Floyd was shaking his arm.

  “We’re in the thick of it now,” Floyd said. “It’s morning, and if I judge right, the eye will pass before too much longer. That means ole Hazel has hit the high tide right on the nose.”

  Judd swallowed hard and wiped sleep from his eyes. The air in the room felt thick and stale. It reminded him of the air in the mine after the cave-in. Too still, too heavy with the storm raging outside the walls. He wanted to run out into the open so bad he could barely stand it. Floyd laid a hand on his arm as if he understood. He looked at the old man
, grateful he wasn’t alone. He wondered where Larkin was and hoped she was safe. And he wished, just a little, that he could go on back home now.

  “How’d you come to live in a boardinghouse?”

  Floyd stood and stretched his limbs, then settled back into place. “After my wife died, I made do on my own for a while. My daughter came by and redded the place up when she could. Got two boys, but they moved up north to work in factories.” He sighed and ran a wrinkled hand over his face. “The older I got, the shakier I got, and sometimes I’d forget things, so I moved on in here before my daughter could put me in one of them homes.” He stretched his hands out in front of him, and Judd could see that they did shake.

  “Had me a nice tobacco allotment. Sold it and put enough in the bank to keep me here for a good, long while.” He hung his head. “Hopefully long enough.”

  Judd wanted to ask what he did with himself all day long, but didn’t. Maybe because he was afraid of the answer. What did a man do with himself when he couldn’t work anymore?

  He looked toward the window, saw a hint of morning light and nothing moving. “Looks like the storm’s passed.”

  “Nope. It’s just the eye. We’ll get the backside of Hazel here shortly.” Floyd stood up again. “Won’t hurt nothing to take a quick look outside, though.” He looked sharply at Judd. “Just don’t go wandering off.”

  They opened the door and stepped out into an eerie stillness. The air was thick—almost yellow. Debris was scattered everywhere, and when Judd looked to the street, he saw . . . water. It lapped at the bottom step, bumping bits of wood and who knew what else against the concrete. He looked back at Floyd, hoping the old man could help him make sense of what he was seeing.

  “Yup, looks like Hazel flung the water way on up here. Houses down at the water will either be flooded or gone. Lucky we didn’t get our toes wet.”

  “But it’s blocks to the ocean,” Judd protested. “High tide doesn’t come any farther than the beach.”