Thunder Snow Page 3

  I rubbed my eyes before I opened my book and began reading. Today was warmer, and the heat from the wood stove made my eyes burn and my eyelids droop.

  Yawning into my hand, I read the questions Miss Jackson had written on the board. I pulled out my paper and copied the questions.

  Something hit the side of my neck. Something wet that clung to my skin. I raked at it, and a spitball fell on my desk. Ugh. I brushed it off quickly with a flick of my hand. Instead of falling to the floor, the spitball rose in the air. Horrified, I watched as it flew up to hit Michael on the cheek. He turned to look at me with widened eyes. My eyes held his as I relived that moment on Sunday.

  Titters ran through the class.

  “Sarah Jane Hunter! Come to my desk now!”

  I tore my eyes away from Michael and stood. My cheeks burning, I shuffled to Miss Jackson’s desk.

  “I’m surprised at you. You know I do not tolerate spitballs in this classroom.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I tried to raise my head, but my muscles wouldn’t cooperate. I peered up through my lashes, and my mouth opened and closed but no sound emerged.

  Miss Jackson rose from her chair and drew a circle on the board. “Put your nose there for one hour.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Miss Jackson, I didn’t throw the spitball.”

  “Sarah Jane!” She placed her hands on her hips, and more titters ran through the class. “Do you wish to prolong your punishment? I know what I saw.”

  Without another word, I walked to the board and stretched to reach the circle. Several people laughed. Dan guffawed. I knew it was Dan. No one else laughed with a snort. Miss Jackson clapped her hands once, and the class fell silent.

  I sought to calm my racing thoughts. The minutes ticked by. This was worse than Sunday when Momma had ripped my dress. No, nothing could be worse than that. My neck already ached. Experience had taught me to keep my nose in the exact center of the circle. If my nose erased any part of the circle, the punishment would begin anew. Michael had to know I wouldn’t throw a spitball at him. Didn’t he? But what else could he think? My leg muscles began to cramp. I lifted one foot an inch from the floor and flexed the muscle. Maybe no one would notice. How much longer? I needed to distract myself. Michael looking at me with his velvet brown eyes wide with horror. No, I couldn’t think of him. I bit my lip and closed my eyes. God, please give me strength. The words to the Twenty-third Psalm floated in my mind. I closed my eyes and recited them over and over. When I opened my eyes, Miss Jackson was beside me.

  “Sarah Jane, return to your seat,” she said quietly.

  I hobbled back to my desk, my legs aching from stretching for so long. I rubbed my neck before rushing to catch up on my work.

  I dreaded lunch. The weather had warmed enough that Miss Jackson allowed us to take our lunches outside. Avoiding the other ninety-three students, I headed for the seldom-used side door and slipped out to the small porch. I plopped down, my legs dangling over the edge.

  I took the top off the syrup can I used for a lunch box. The rough wood planks cut into my legs, but I didn’t mind. At least I was alone. I ate my lunch, two biscuits with fig preserves, enjoying the relative silence. The sounds of the children’s voices and laughter drifted to me, muffled by the school.

  Laurie came around the edge of the building, a smile on her face.

  “What are you smiling about?” I asked, trying to sound annoyed but secretly pleased she had sought me out.

  “I told Miss Jackson that Dan threw the spitball. He’s going to be suspended for the rest of the week.”

  “Laurie! William and I have told you not to antagonize Dan!”

  “Antagonize? What does that mean?”

  “You know perfectly well what it means, Laurie. Or, you should. You’re thirteen. You should know. And, besides, that was one of our spelling words last week.”

  Laurie snorted. “How do you remember things like that?” Grimacing, she yanked on a braid.

  “I listen and do my homework.” I pressed my lips together, crossing my arms in an imitation of Momma. “Quit changing the subject. Stop annoying Dan.”

  “Why? I ain’t scared . . .”

  “Hah. You hit the ditch pretty fast yesterday.”

  She grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t say I wasn’t scared of his horse. I just ain’t scared of him. Besides, Miss Jackson said she wouldn’t tell I told on him. Mr. Hargrove talked to his parents this morning. I saw them going in his office.”

  I studied her for a few seconds and shook my head.

  “What?” she asked.

  “If you were going to tell on him, why didn’t you do it sooner?”

  Laurie’s cheeks reddened. “Well, don’t get mad, Jay. I just thought it wouldn’t hurt you none to stick your nose in the circle . . .”

  “I know. Yesterday, I should have hit the ditch too. I deserved to be punished.” I beat my heels against the side of the porch, sighed, and rubbed my nose. “We’d best stay out of Dan’s way for a while.”

  Laurie’s freckles, scattered across her nose, suddenly appeared darker, and she snorted. “I ain’t—”

  “Just stay out of his way. Promise?”

  “Okay, I promise. At least for the rest of the week.”

  She grinned at me, and I had to smile.

  THE NEXT THREE DAYS without Dan were pure bliss and flew by. On Friday, Laurie walked home with me. When we came to the path to Cedar Spring, I led Laurie to the giant cedar. She had never been there before.

  We took turns drinking from the bubbling spring before settling down on a rock to watch squirrels scamper about the clearing. Crows cawed afar off. Otherwise, a peaceful silence surrounded us.

  “How’s William?” I asked.

  “He’s doing okay. Getting restless from being cooped up.”

  My cheeks burned. “I’m really sorry, Laurie. Tell William I want to visit, but Momma won’t let me.”

  “That’s okay, Jay, he doesn’t blame you. Anyways, Poppa says trials bring us closer to God.”

  I digested that in silence.

  Laurie touched my arm. “And it ain’t so bad. Momma made him a Forget Box.”

  “A what?”

  “A Forget Box. Momma says if you get your mind on other things, you’ll forget about your own troubles.”

  “What’s in it?”

  “Oh, lots of stuff. A couple of books Poppa borrowed from the neighbors, checkers—things like that.”

  “Do you play checkers with him?”

  “Sure. We all do. Momma plays a game with him after lunch every day.”

  We never played games in our house. We didn’t even have a set of checkers. Foolishness, Momma called it.

  I stood and brushed off. “I’ve got to be getting home.”

  “I think I’ll stay around here for a little while. I think I saw some tadpoles.”

  “I doubt if it’s tadpoles. Still too early for them. Don’t tell anyone else about this place.”

  “Not even William?”

  “Of course you can tell William!” I hurried down the path without waiting for a reply.

  Chapter 5—The Shadow

  Momma would be wondering where I was. I always had to hurry, and I hated it. One day I would be able to sit under the cedar for as long as I wanted.

  A chill ran up my spine as if someone had stepped on my grave. I rubbed my arms briskly to shrug off the feeling.

  When I pushed the grayed gate open, Zeke ran to meet me, Chance on his heels.

  “I’ll help you with your chores today,” Zeke said as he tilted his head. His eyes, as blue and clear as the sky, entreated me.

  I knew he wanted to see the calf and Momma wouldn’t allow him near the cows unless someone was with him.

  I grinned at him. “Sure, baby brother.”

  “I’m not a baby. I’m four.” He held four fingers up for emphasis before he skipped ahead of me to the barn.

  We fed the livestock, and Zeke lingered a minute to rub the ne
w calf’s nose. Zeke laughed when the calf licked his fingers.

  “Her nose feels so soft. Like velvet,” he said.

  “That would make a good name.”

  “What would?”

  “Velvet, silly. We can name her Velvet.” I tousled his silky hair, wishing mine had been wheat colored. Even in the darkness of the barn, his hair shone golden.

  I understood why Momma loved him more, with his blond hair and blue eyes. A cheerful spirit radiated from him.

  I took his hand, and we walked into the empty house. I looked at Zeke.

  “Where’s Momma and Poppa?”

  “They’re in the back field. Momma said for you to start supper.”

  I nodded. I didn’t mind, usually. I enjoyed cooking except in the summer when the wood stove heated the small kitchen until sweat dripped in my eyes. But it was still cool enough that I didn’t mind today.

  Momma had left the food on the plank counter for me to fix. I got a fire going in the wood stove and opened a jar of black-eye peas and poured them into the pot. Then I got turnips cooking before I peeled potatoes. Once they were boiling on the stove, I measured out the cornmeal for the cornbread.

  A deep voice startled me. “What evil lurks in the hearts of men? The shadow knows.” I wiped my hands on my apron and walked over to Zeke by the radio.

  “You know better than to mess with that.” I reached for the knob to turn it off, but Zeke grabbed my arm.

  “Please, Jay? Can’t we listen just a little while?”

  I mulled it over as his eyes beseeched me. “All right. But just for five minutes.” I looked at him sternly. “And don’t tell Momma.”

  “I won’t. Thanks, Jay.” He grinned and settled in front of the radio. I went back to the stove to stir the peas but began to listen. I became so enthralled that it was all I could do to keep my mind on the cooking and not burn it. The show concluded, and I clicked it off.

  Just in time. Momma and Poppa came in from the field.

  “Something smells delicious, Jay.” Poppa grinned and set the table.

  Momma helped Zeke wash up, and we settled in our seats. Before we dug in, Poppa said the blessing.

  Momma didn’t like for us to talk while we ate, so Zeke and I ate in silence. Poppa and Momma talked about the spring planting for a few minutes. Then Poppa’s gaze settled on Zeke.

  He grinned. “Ezekiel, do you know what vegetable will be in heaven?”

  Zeke puckered his brow.

  “It’s one of the foods on the table,” Poppa prompted.

  Zeke’s blue eyes searched, and he mouthed the name of each food silently. Then his face brightened. “Peas?”

  Poppa chuckled softly. “Yep, peas.”

  I laughed softly.

  “Peas kinda sounds like peace.” Zeke grinned.

  Poppa leaned back in his chair and began to sing, ignoring Momma’s look of disapproval. Zeke and I joined our voices with his.

  When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,

  When sorrows like sea billows roll;

  Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

  It is well, it is well, with my soul.

  THE NEXT DAY WAS SATURDAY. We did our regular chores, and I read the one book I owned, David Copperfield.

  On Saturday nights we always gathered around the radio to listen to the Grand Ole Opry. This Saturday was no exception.

  I spread a quilt out and reclined on the floor near the radio. Zeke settled in Momma’s lap to be rocked.

  Closing my eyes, I listened as Deford Bailey performed. Next up were the Fruit Jar Drinkers. Poppa scooted his chair a little closer to the radio. The Drinkers sang only a few notes before the radio fell silent.

  “James, what’s wrong?” Momma asked.

  Zeke raised his head and looked at me. I quickly looked away, but it was too late.

  “Sarah Jane, have you been playing the radio?”

  “Momma,” Zeke said. “We just listened for a little while.”

  “When?” She was looking at me now.

  Even Poppa was angry. Uncle Dave, the banjo-playing leader of the group, was Poppa’s favorite.

  No getting out of it. “Yesterday.”

  “It was The Shadow,” Zeke said. “You should’ve heard it, Momma! Evil hearts. That’s what the man said.”

  “I don’t want that junk on in my house,” Momma said. “Sarah Jane, why did you let him listen to such filth?”

  Before I could answer, Poppa spoke. “Ezekiel James, did you turn the radio on?”

  “I told him he could listen,” I said hurriedly.

  Poppa sighed, and my stomach churned. I wanted to put my arms around his neck and tell him I was sorry. But not with Momma watching.

  Poppa gripped the arms of the rocker, and he stood. His face paled. As if invisible strings tugged him forward, he bent at the waist and clutched his side.

  I jumped up. “Poppa, what’s wrong?”

  Momma set Zeke down. “James?”

  “Nothing to worry about,” he said, straightening. “Just a catch in my side.”

  “I can go fetch the doctor.” I placed a hand on his arm.

  Poppa laughed and patted my hand. “I’m fine, Jay. Just a little tired. Since we can’t listen to the radio, let’s get to bed.” He eyed the radio with mouth drawn down.

  I didn’t know if it was from disappointment or if he was still in pain. Although it was hard to tell by the light of the flickering kerosene lamp, he still looked pale.

  His eyes caught mine. “Sarah Jane, do not touch the radio again.”

  “Yes, sir.” I glanced down, ashamed for upsetting Poppa.

  “And that goes for you, too, Zeke.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Put Zeke to bed, Sarah Jane,” Momma said.

  Worry lines creased her forehead. Poppa never got sick, never complained. Surely it was just a catch in his side. I was worrying over nothing. I took Zeke’s hand.

  As we left the room, I looked back to see Momma’s hand on Poppa’s forehead.

  Chapter 6—Thunder Snow

  Poppa seemed fine on Sunday morning. Maybe a little paler than usual, but that was all. We attended church service, and Poppa laughed and talked with the preacher. I started to relax. Maybe he did just have a catch in his side.

  On the way home, ominous dark clouds gathered. Poppa said it looked like we were in for some heavy rain.

  Heaviness draped over us as we went about our chores. No one talked much, not even Zeke. As an early dusk gathered, he played quietly by the hearth. The wind whistled through the cracks in our wall.

  I went to the window and pressed my forehead to the cool glass. Small trees bent under the force of the wind as lightning split the sky. I counted to three before thunder rattled the window.

  Zeke came up behind me as drops of rain gently pelted the glass.”I wanna see!”

  I drew back the lace curtains to give him a better view.

  “Get away from there, Ezekiel James Hunter! Sarah Jane! Don’t you have a lick of sense?” Momma came out of the kitchen drying her hands on her apron.

  Reluctantly, I moved away, taking Zeke by the hand. The thunder and lightning always filled me with a sense of awe at God’s great power.

  Poppa entered with his arms loaded with wood and dumped it by the fireplace.

  “I reckon we’re in for another spell of cold weather. That wind feels like it’s coming straight off of ice.” He took out his pipe and lit it, inhaling deeply. “I’ve got the animals bedded down in the barn.”

  Thunder rolled in the distance, sounding like the growl of an angry bear. Without warning, a darkness so deep we could no longer see each other dropped over our house. As if God had opened a gate, rain poured onto our tin roof.

  Poppa fumbled for matches to light the kerosene lamp. When it was lit, Momma and I perched in the rocking chairs, listening to the sounds of the storm. Zeke climbed in my lap, and I scooted into a more comfortable position.

  Poppa built a fire,
his brow furrowed. The drumming of the rain drowned out any attempt at conversation. I held Zeke close and rocked.

  When the fire blazed, Poppa walked to the window and peered toward the barn. “I don’t know if the barn can hold up in this wind”.” He paced back and forth for a few minutes before looking out the window again. ““I can’t see a thing. I’m going to check on the animals.”

  Poppa donned his heavy raincoat that hung on a peg by the door. He pulled his hat down tight on his head and unlatched the door. The wind whipped the door from his hands, and he struggled to grab it. Rain blew in and formed puddles on the floor. Momma ran and helped pull the door closed as Poppa continued out into the driving rain.

  Momma wiped up the puddles of water before coming back to sit by the fire. I chewed my bottom lip and prayed.

  The wind whistled through the cracks in the wall, and the house creaked. The minutes ticked by, and anxiety gnawed at me. I longed to go peer out the window, but I knew Momma wouldn’t let me. Besides, I probably wouldn’t be able to see anything.

  Poppa opened the door, and a burst of lightning lit up the scene. Silhouetted behind him, large trees bent toward the ground, and leaves swirled. No, not just leaves but small branches. Poppa yanked the door shut.

  He shrugged off his dripping coat and hung it near the fire to dry. Thunder rumbled overhead.

  “Don’t want to scare y’all none, but I ain’t sure the house or barn is going to hold up against this wind. We might need to make a run for it.”

  Zeke snuggled closer to me.

  “But, Poppa, where would we run?” I asked.

  A gentle smile crossed his face. “God always provides a place of refuge.” His words barely carried to me.

  “Did you see Chance?” I asked.

  “He went in the barn with me and stayed there.” Poppa went to the wardrobe and pulled out quilts. “It’s best if we make a pallet by the fireplace and all sleep in here.”

  Zeke and I rose and helped Poppa smooth out the quilts on the floor while Momma disappeared into the kitchen. Zeke and I flopped down close to the fireplace, huddling together. Momma returned with a jar full of corn and the lard can.