Thunder Snow Page 6

  Poppa was still up when Zeke and I went to bed. He said he was going to keep carrying the piglets to the sow, one or two at a time, until he had taken them all to her.

  AFTER BREAKFAST THE next morning, Zeke and I raced back outside. We checked on the piglets, and all ten of the new piglets had been accepted by the old sow. I didn’t know how she would be able to care for such a large brood, eighteen all together. God would provide. That’s what Poppa said.

  Zeke and I left the barn to play in the snow. The day warmed, although the wind still carried a chill. Although the sun’s warmth had melted most of the snow on the roof of the house and water dripped steadily, the snow was still so deep it would take days to melt.

  Zeke and I built a fort, shaping the snow into rough cube shapes and stacking them like bricks. About thirty feet away, I built another fort for me. I put Zeke to work making snowballs. We were so engrossed that I didn’t hear the horse. Only Chance’s bark alerted me to our visitor. I stood up and brushed the snow off the old pair of overalls I was wearing.

  “Hi, Jay,” Dan said. His eyes swept over me, and he smirked before he swung down from his horse.

  This was not the old sway-back but a young, black stallion. I couldn’t help but stare.

  Dan walked toward me, leading his horse. “Playing?” he asked, laughing.

  I ignored his question. “Nice horse,” I said.

  “Yep, Paw just bought him for me.” His eyes stared into mine, as if issuing a challenge. “Want to ride Blaze?”

  The words had barely left his mouth before I had my foot in the stirrup. Dan gave me a push I didn’t need.

  “Jay, can I ride with you?” Zeke’s eyes sparkled as he gazed up at me.

  “Next time. I’ll be right back.” I pulled the reins to turn the horse toward the road. His strong legs carried us through the snow effortlessly. I rode ten minutes in the direction of the school, enjoying the ride. The horse’s mane streamed toward me, and I lay my head on his neck, urging him faster.

  I spotted another horse and rider. I straightened and pulled back on the reins. Blaze slowed and came to a stop.

  The horse trotted toward me as I waited, trying to hold the stallion still.

  It was Michael.

  “Hi,” he said, his teeth flashing as white as the snow.

  “Hi.” My gaze fell to my hands. I ran the reins through my fingers and tried to think of something to say.

  “Nice horse.”

  The leather creaked as I shifted in the saddle. “Yeah, it’s Dan’s.”

  “Dan’s? Dan has a new horse? He didn’t tell me.” A frown creased his forehead.

  Surely he wasn’t jealous. I cast him a look. The lines in his forehead deepened.

  “He just stopped by my house and said I could ride his horse. Um . . . want to come over?”

  He eyed me for a moment. “Sure. Not much else to do with all the snow.”

  I gave him a sideways glance as his horse fell in beside me. His face was unreadable, but his forehead was smooth. We rode in silence for a while.

  “When do you reckon school will start back?” I asked.

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I heard Monday. Snow should be melted by then.”

  “I hate to see it melt. It’s so beautiful.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “But it’s troublesome.”

  “What?” I asked, puzzled.

  “Your barn fell in.” The corners of his lips lifted slightly, and he raised an eyebrow.

  “Oh . . .” I nodded.

  We had reached my drive and rode into the yard. Dan had taken command of my fort while Zeke cowered in his. Snowballs flew fast and furious from Dan.

  Dan stood up, still holding a snowball. His eyes flitted from Michael to me as he tossed the snowball back and forth for a second. Then he flung it, hitting his horse in the side. The horse bucked once, and I flew off. I lay in the snow for a moment.

  Zeke ran to me. “Jay, are you okay?” He looked at me anxiously.

  “I think so.” I sat up, feeling dizzy.

  Michael dismounted in one movement and knelt beside me. “Can you stand?”

  I laughed shakily. “I’m fine. All this troublesome snow broke my fall.”

  He helped me to my feet as Dan tossed another snowball from hand to hand.

  Michael glared at him. “Why did you do that?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t mean to hit the horse. I was aiming at Jay. Just having a little fun. I didn’t know Blaze would buck her off.”

  Michael’s eyes narrowed. “You could have killed her. Apologize.”

  He snorted. “Not likely.”

  “What does that mean?” Michael’s hands clenched into fists.

  A movement drew my eyes to the house. Momma had the curtain pulled back, peering out. Just great and gravy!

  I tugged on Michael’s arm. “It’s okay,” I whispered.

  His eyes widened. “You’re going to let him get away with this?”

  I kicked at the snow, not knowing how to answer.

  “Jay?” Michael’s eyebrows were drawn together, and he breathed heavily. His brown eyes locked with mine for a second. I shrugged my shoulders.

  “Guess you like his horse.” He strode to his own and swung into the saddle.

  “Michael, wait!”

  I moved toward him, but he ignored me, riding down our drive without looking back.

  Momma opened the door. “Sarah Jane! What’s going on?” She stepped onto the back porch, hands on her hips.

  “Wanna play, Jay?” Dan still tossed the snowball back and forth. He grinned at me.

  I gritted my teeth. “Come on, Zeke.” I grabbed his arm and headed to the porch.

  “But you said I could ride the horse, Jay!” Zeke pulled against me.

  Momma met us at the bottom of the steps. “What are you talking about, Ezekiel James Hunter?” You’re not getting on no horse.” She looked past us to where Dan stood. “Don’t just leave your company standing in the middle of the yard, Sarah Jane. Invite him in.”

  “No,” I said.

  “No?” Momma seemed taken aback. She cleared her throat. “You do what I say, this instant.”

  I glared at her and shook my head. Momma seized my arm and gave it a shake. Yanking away, I strode into the house.

  “Come back here now, Sarah Jane.”

  I hesitated, wishing I had a place to hide. I headed to my room, longing for a bedroom door to slam. Instead, I jerked the curtain shut with as much force as I could muster and fell onto my bed. My hands shook with anger. I lay very still. Maybe Momma would leave me alone.

  But no such luck. She pulled the curtain back with such force I heard it rip.

  “Get out of bed now!”

  I ignored Momma, rolling over to stare at the wall. When she pinched the back of my arm, I reluctantly stood. Momma placed her hands on her hips and pressed her lips together. I simply looked at her.

  “You’ve got some explaining to do.” Her eyes narrowed before she spun on her heel.

  I released an explosive breath but followed her. She plopped down in the rocking chair by the fireplace. When I started to sit, Momma shook her head. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair as she propelled it back and forth, all the while her ice-blue eyes stared at me. “Well? I’m waiting.” The rockers slapped against the floorboards.

  I shrugged. “Dan hit the horse with a snowball, and I fell off. It made me mad. I shouldn’t have been rude.” I gripped my hands together behind my back, digging my nails into my palms.

  “What were you doing on his horse?” She stopped rocking and stared as if she had never seen me before.

  “He told me I could ride it.”

  “You ain’t got a lick of sense. That horse could have killed you. Don’t you ever get on a horse again.” She rose from the chair. “Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I heard her. Half the county heard her. That didn’t mean I wouldn’t ride a horse again.

  “Go to your room until yo
ur poppa gets home.”

  Just what I wanted to do anyway. Why hadn’t she just left me alone? I hurried to my room before she changed her mind.

  By the time Poppa came in I had calmed enough to tell him the story. He sympathized but told me Dan might have accidentally hit the horse with the snowball.

  Although I knew Dan had done it on purpose, I didn’t argue with Poppa. His face was still pinched and white. Dark shadows under his eyes contrasted vividly with his pale skin. Swallowing down my worry over him, I agreed to apologize to Dan on Sunday.

  For Poppa’s sake.

  Momma made me do extra chores as punishment. At church on Sunday I did as I had promised and pulled Dan aside. I told him I was sorry.

  It was true. I was sorry I hadn’t punched him in the face.

  Maybe one day I’d get a chance.

  Chapter 13—Pain

  All the snow melted. School started back, and we fell into our familiar routines. Laurie walked with me to school and, soon, William joined us, now using a crutch to hobble down the road.

  Michael avoided me, but I noticed he became friends with Dan again. They often ate lunch together and laughed uproariously at silly things. Why Michael should still be mad at me but not Dan, I didn’t know.

  Spring unfolded rapidly. Soon the peach trees, pink with flowers, and the pear trees, white as the snow, brightened our dirt yard. Four o’clock blooms sprung up around the house where Poppa had planted them years ago. The flowers didn’t open until late in the afternoon, but, when they did, they put on a show of magenta and yellow petals, attracting tiny hummingbirds.

  I was enlisted to pull weeds one Saturday to get ready for spring planting. Even Zeke was given his own hoe to dig up the unwanted grass. The sun beat down upon our backs as we worked. We would soon be making our yearly trip to Dozier for the seeds and fertilizer.

  Although it was only April, it was already hot, almost like a summer’s day. By the time the sun was high overhead, my mouth had dried, and I longed for a drink from the water jug under the oak tree near where we hoed. An old quilt was spread out under the tree for Zeke to sit on when he tired, and he was sitting there now. Momma showed no sign of fatigue, and I struggled to keep up with her, ignoring my thirst.

  Poppa took his hat off and wiped his glistening forehead with a handkerchief. His gaze swept over the fields.

  “Sarah Jane, don’t stand there gawking. Get busy,” Momma said.

  Before I took my next step, Poppa spoke.

  “Let’s rest for a bit and get us a drink of water.”

  Momma shook her head. “You and Sarah Jane can, but I’m going to finish what I started.”

  I hesitated, but Poppa put his arm around my shoulders. I fell in step with him, and he leaned on me as we made our way to the oak tree.

  He handed me the jug, and I poured some water into a tin cup and offered it to him. He shook his head, so I lifted it to my lips and let the lukewarm water trickle down my throat. The shade of the tree was alluring. I longed to sit down and rest my back against its trunk. Zeke stretched out on the quilt, gazing at the emerald leaves and golden rays of sunshine creeping through openings in the branches.

  I poured out another cup of water, and Poppa took a drink. He swallowed, clutched his side, and bent over. His lips tinged blue against his pale face, and the cup slipped from his fingers.

  “Poppa?” I said. He didn’t answer. “Poppa, are you okay?” Fear choked me as I laid my hand on his clammy arm.

  “Jay, get your momma,” he gasped.

  I ran toward her, waving my arms. “Momma!”

  She glanced in our direction but made no move. I called again, and her gaze shifted to Poppa. I hurried back to him as she slowly moved to where we stood. He straightened with an effort.

  “Poppa?” Zeke had taken Poppa’s hand in his, and his eyes were clouded.

  “Feel a mite dizzy.” He shivered, and his hand grasped Zeke’s.

  “What in the world’s wrong? We ain’t got time for no foolishness.” Momma stopped in front of Poppa and leaned on her hoe.

  “Molly, I’m going to the house for a bit,” Poppa said with an effort, his face pale.

  Her brow furrowed. “James, what’s wrong?”

  “Probably nothing.” He managed a shaky smile.

  “Sarah Jane and I will finish up. Ezekiel can go with you.” Momma headed back to her row before the words had left her mouth.

  I trailed behind her, watching Poppa’s progress to the house. He stopped twice to lean over with his hands on his knees before I lost sight of him and Zeke.

  To keep the worry at bay, I worked with a renewed vigor. Momma also increased her pace, but I was able to keep up with her.

  The sun shifted to the western sky before we finished. I snatched up the jug and wrapped it in the quilt. With the bundle in my arms, I headed home, not waiting for Momma. I threw the quilt and jug down as I entered the house.

  “Poppa?”

  Chapter 14—Lightning Bugs

  Poppa lay in his bed, and fear clutched my heart. I had never seen him lie down during the day. His eyes were closed, his face drawn in pain. Zeke sat in a chair pulled close to him.

  “Poppa?” I whispered.

  He slowly opened his eyes and searched my face. “I’ll be right as rain in no time, Jay.”

  “Do you need anything?” My arms ached, and I realized my hands were clenched together so tightly my nails dug into my skin.

  “No, sweetie. Just need to rest.”

  Momma came in. She took one look at Poppa and turned to me. “Go do your poppa’s chores.”

  “Momma . . .”

  “Do what I say. And take Ezekiel with you.” She walked over to Poppa and placed her hand on his forehead.

  “But, Momma, don’t you think I need to go for the doctor?”

  Poppa stirred. “No, Blue Jay. I’ll be okay. Don’t you worry none.”

  I grabbed Zeke’s hand, and we slipped out the door. His grip tightened as we stepped off the porch.

  “Jay, is Poppa going to be all right?” His eyes rounded.

  “Sure.” I squeezed his hand. Poppa always said things would be all right. That everything worked together for good if we loved God.

  What did that mean though? That no one would ever get sick or die? That we’d never have problems?

  My eyes brimmed with tears, but I squared my shoulders and set my mouth. Poppa wouldn’t want me to cry—not in front of Zeke anyway. I shrugged off my fears the best I could, and Zeke and I went to work on the chores.

  When we got back to the house, Momma had cooked a pot of potato soup and was trying to get Poppa to eat some. He choked down a couple of spoonfuls before pushing it away.

  Zeke and I went into the kitchen where Momma had lit the kerosene lamp, and I dipped us each a bowl of soup. As we ate, I ran my hands over the boards of the table, the table Poppa had built.

  Not only the furniture. He had built our home before I was born. Everything around me; everything I saw.

  I sighed and gathered up our bowls and glasses to wash. Zeke went to find Momma but was back before I dried the last dish and set it on the shelf.

  Zeke shuffled his feet. “Momma said for us to go sit on the porch.”

  “Sit on the porch?” I frowned. “Why? It’s almost dark.”

  He shrugged.

  I tiptoed into the room where Momma and Poppa slept. Momma had drawn a chair up to the bed and held Poppa’s hand. His eyes were shut, but I knew he wasn’t sleeping. He groaned and shifted positions. Momma’s eyes never wavered from his face as I backed out.

  Zeke and I went to the front porch. Two straight-back chairs leaned against the wall. I pulled one out for Zeke, and I sat in the other one. He swung his legs, beating his feet against the rungs of the chair.

  “Is Poppa really going to be okay?” he asked.

  “Everyone gets sick. Remember when you had measles last year?”

  “Yep, but that was different.” Zeke’s eyes were blank,
staring across our dirt yard.

  Chance came trotting up onto the porch, and I patted his sides. He wagged his tail and licked my hand before lying down with his head on my foot. The four-o’clock flowers opened, releasing their musky perfume.

  How long did Momma want us to stay out here? I was restless to go back in and see if Poppa was better. If it hadn’t been for worry, I would have enjoyed the evening.

  Frogs and crickets sang, and, although it was early for them, one or two lightning bugs flickered on and off. A breeze blew, and the dogwoods showered down some of their blooms.

  “Can I catch lightning bugs, Jay?” Zeke jumped from his chair.

  “If we can find a jar.” I stood and stretched.

  We shuffled to the barn. Inside, the hay and manure masked the perfume of the flowers, and a velvet blackness engulfed us like a thick quilt. I fumbled for the lantern. Its light revealed the animals’ contentment as they settled for the night.

  Poppa had a bench set up at the front of the barn with various tools, nuts, and bolts. An old jar with a chipped rim held a few rusty nails. I pulled it from the shelf and dumped out its contents. I ripped an old rag in half and tied the cloth over the mouth of the jar.

  I blew out the lantern, and we walked out into the gathering darkness. We each caught a lightning bug and placed them in the jar. My hands shook as I tied the cloth around the jar’s mouth.

  We wandered back to the porch. As we settled back in the chairs, I pointed out the Big Dipper and Little Dipper to Zeke.

  Zeke held the jar, watching the lights flicker on and off from the bugs within. “How do they do that, Jay?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I guess God made them that way.”

  Zeke yawned, and I followed suit.

  I looked toward the door. “Momma’s not coming to get us, and we can’t sit out here all night. Let’s go in.”

  Zeke didn’t protest. I pushed open the door made of planks, the door Poppa had made, and Zeke followed me in, still holding the jar. He set the jar down on the kitchen table next to the kerosene lamp.

  “Zeke, take that back out,” I whispered. “You know Momma doesn’t want bugs in the house.”