After the Storm (2 page)

Brendan kicked a pebble across the grass. “Sean told me Jenny Anderson says girls don't use tools.”

“Is that so?” He tried not to laugh again. The Anderson girl was the daughter of the owner of the livery stable in Haven. Both Brendan and his best friend were sweet on her, and Samuel suspected Jenny played one's attention against the other in an attempt to keep them interested.

He lost all desire to laugh as the bitter thought unwove in his mind. For heaven's sake, he should not be labeling a young girl with the same hypocrisy Beverly had shown. An innocent flirtation was different from an intentional ruse.

Quietly he said, “Jenny needs to think again. Every woman who comes to the meetings at the Grange Hall works side by side with her husband or parents. Farmers' wives and daughters have to pitch in with all sorts of chores around the farm.”

“Jenny doesn't live on a farm.”

“True, but we do.”

Brendan said softly, “I wish we lived in town. Then I'd have someone else to play with instead of just my sisters.”

“We'll be going into Haven tomorrow evening for a meeting at the Grange.”

The boy screwed up his face. “But we have to wear good clothes for that, and I can't play in good clothes.” He turned when he heard one of the girls shout his name, and he ran back across the yard.

Samuel sat on the old chair on the porch. The upholstery smelled of damp and humidity, but it was comfortable after a day's work. Propping his dusty boots on the railing, he opened the newspaper and began to read by the day's last light. The summer days were growing shorter, so he would have to finish most of the paper inside after the children were in bed.

Lightning flashed, but, for once, Megan did not come running for comfort. The little girl was deeply afraid of thunderstorms. Tonight, she must be too focused on building the rabbit's cage to notice the approaching storm.

Ignoring the distant thunder that could be barely heard over the children's voices, Samuel opened his newspaper. He had read only halfway down the third page before he saw
it
. Her name. Her married name.

He folded the paper and let it fall onto his lap. With a curse, he snatched the page away from the others, crumpling it. This is what he got for trying to fool himself. Beverly had decided to make herself a life in the highest realms of Cincinnati society, so he should have realized her name would appear in the gossip columns sooner or later. That this was the first time it had since he had left Cincinnati almost a year ago only proved that she and her besotted husband had returned at last from their grand tour of Europe.

“What's wrong, Samuel?” asked Brendan as he came up the steps.

Forcing a smile, he replied, “Nothing important.”

“You made a mess of your newspaper.”

Samuel picked up the balled page and tossed it to the boy. “Tear it up in strips. Your rabbit will enjoy making a nest out of it.”

“Thanks! Do you have more wire?”

Although he was astonished that the pieces in the barn were not enough, he said, “Look around for some more. There may be another section. If not, we'll pick up some tomorrow when we go to Haven.”

Brendan jumped down from the porch and ran to where his sisters were intent on their project. When he called to them, they all raced off toward the barn. Megan paused to allow her sister to catch up, then they ran hand in hand. At the barn door, Brendan hushed them as he always did, for he wanted his cow to be able to rest.

The boy spoiled that cow as if it were his own babe. He planned to take it to the county fair next month, and Samuel guessed Brendan brushed it more than he did the horses.

Samuel sighed. Why was he letting thoughts of Beverly intrude tonight when he should be thinking of the future and fun things like the county fair? Her time in his life was in the past, left behind him when he moved here. He wanted no part of fancy gatherings and jostling to see which person could be the grandest or the richest or be owed the most by those around him. Even before Beverly burst into his life—and his heart—he had become disillusioned with his life. Now he was happy.

Or he had been until he had seen her name. Her married name.

Lightning crackled, much closer than before, and thunder rattled. Not thunder, Samuel realized, but a buggy coming along the road leading to the house and barn. It rolled to a stop under the tree.

He came to his feet as he recognized the passengers. As always, Alice Underhill, the village's schoolteacher, was dressed in unrelieved black. Her skirt was not dusty with chalk as it was during the school year. Handing her out of the buggy was Reverend Faulkner. That they were together forewarned Samuel that the reason for their call was to talk about the project to establish a public library in Haven.

He was not surprised when, as soon as he had greeted them and seated them in the parlor with some lemonade Megan had made earlier, Alice said, “You know there is going to be a town meeting on Wednesday.”

“Yes.” He leaned back in the rocker by the front window. It was not comfortable for a man of his height. More than once, he had thought of giving it away, because it was too well-made to break up for firewood. It was here because the children enjoyed rocking in it. He wished he had not sat here, because each time he looked at his guests on the sofa, he saw the Majolica fountain set beyond the woodstove. Its blue and gold decoration would have been better suited to a fine Lexington Avenue mansion in New York, but he had not been able to leave it behind. His parents had bought it on a trip to England and had intended to give it to him as a wedding gift. He had enjoyed the gift, just not the wedding.

Why was he letting a silly society newspaper piece about Beverly unsettle him so? He should have been better prepared for seeing it. After all, he had had over a year to get used to the idea.

“Are you coming to the meeting on Wednesday?” Alice asked with an impatience that suggested she had spoken to him several times while he had been lost in his thoughts and had not received an answer.

“I'm not sure. It'll depend on how much of the corn I can get harvested before then.”

“Samuel, we need you to be at the meeting.”

“Why? I've said all I have to say about the library.”

“You need to say it again.” She leaned toward him. “Samuel, I know you're a man of few words, but that may be the very reason why your words and the good sense behind them are heeded.” She glanced at Reverend Faulkner, who was sitting beside her on the sofa. “Do tell him how much we need him there.”

“I don't understand,” Samuel replied, pushing his other concerns aside as he focused on the reason for their call. “I thought everyone, including the mayor, had agreed the library would go ahead.”

The minister sighed. “The diphtheria outbreak has unsettled people.”

“That was last month, and there hasn't been a new case in more than three weeks.”

“True, but folks are leery of creating any reason to gather in town until they're sure the sickness won't break out again.”

Samuel shook his head. “That's absurd.”

“Is it?” Reverend Faulkner folded his hands on his knees. “The outbreak came after the Centennial Day celebration.”

“Which hardly anyone from River's Haven attended, and look what happened out there.” He could not keep from glancing out his window where, on a sunny day, he could see a reflection off the windows on the highest floors of the massive building that had, until a few weeks ago, been the center of a utopian community. Diphtheria had ravaged the Community, leaving more orphans who were being taken care of in Haven or sent to relatives back east.

Fortunately his kids had not sickened. He had watched for signs of the horrible sickness because Sean O'Dell had been one of the first to become ill. Sean had survived, but others had not.

Alice nodded. “I have been trying to tell folks that, but no one wants to listen. They're frightened, and they don't want their children coming into Haven to visit a library.”

“What about school?” Samuel asked. “No one is considering keeping their children from that, are they?”

“We have almost eight weeks before the harvest is in and school can begin,” she replied.

The minister patted her hand. “And to find a new teacher now that you're about to be wed.”

A warm glow of happiness coursed up Alice's face, and Samuel looked away. He forced his eyes back to where Reverend Faulkner and the schoolteacher were now talking about the plans for her wedding. He kept a smile on his rigid lips. Giving folks more reason to gossip about him would be stupid. When he had not attended any of the weddings in Haven this summer, there had been veiled and quite candid questions about why he had stayed away.

He had stayed away because he did not want to make a further fool of himself.

The front screen door crashed open, and Megan ran in, crying, “The chicks are out!”

“Damn,” he said when he saw her sister and brother behind her, then glanced at the minister. “Sorry, Reverend.”

Reverend Faulkner gave him a sympathetic smile and stood. “No need to apologize. Do you want help gathering them up?”

“I have three helpers.” He frowned at the children, who now wore expressions that suggested they had no idea how the chicks could have escaped as a thunderstorm approached.

“Do you need some help with your helpers?”

Samuel chuckled. The minister had raised quite a brood of his own, so he understood how a child's help could create more trouble than anything else.

“No, I think my helpers will be just the ones I need tonight.” Motioning for the children to precede him, he paused in the doorway. “I'll try to get into town for the meeting. I know the children would like to have some time with their friends. Brendan must have mentioned Sean O'Dell at least a dozen times today, and Megan gave me a wistful look when she spoke about her friend Kitty Cat this morning.”

Bidding his guests a good evening, and knowing he was being a poor host, Samuel rushed out into the yard to scoop up several of the two dozen chicks that were skittering in every direction. He nodded to Reverend Faulkner's wave as he and the teacher drove back to town. They would be lucky to get there before the storm arrived, for thunder resonated around the house.

Samuel was about to put the chicks back in the chicken coop when he discovered how they had escaped. One section of the wire was missing. He twisted the ends together, creating a much smaller coop. Putting the chickens in, he stood to see Brendan and the girls rushing toward him. Megan was carrying four chicks in her apron, and Brendan held two more. Lottie just jumped up and down in her excitement.

He put a hand on her shoulder to keep her from bouncing on a chick. As he placed the chicks in the pen, he asked, over the rising wind, “Does anyone want to explain how this happened?”

“Bunny needs lots of room. He's glowing big.” Lottie smiled with pride.

“You used
this
chicken wire?” he asked, not bothering to correct the little girl. Catching a chick racing past him, he put it back inside the coop.

“We thought it was all right. You let the chickens wander about.” Megan's lower lip began to quiver as her eyes filled with tears.

He ruffled her hair. “The chickens, yes, but the little ones might wander so far they couldn't find their way back.”

“Then they wouldn't have their mothers any longer.”

Keeping his oath silent, Samuel nodded. Just when he thought the children had adjusted to living here, one of them made a comment like that. He sighed. He could not blame them for missing what they once had had. After all, he did.

“Let's get all the chicks rounded up and back in the coop,” he said, giving Megan a smile.

She started to return it, then squealed when thunder clapped.

“Megan, will you take Lottie inside and help her get ready for bed?” Samuel asked, taking two more chicks from Brendan.

The little girl nodded, gratitude brightening her eyes. Taking her sister by the hand, they started toward the porch.

Suddenly Lottie tugged away and ran back to say, “Dahi will help you.”

“Thank you.” Samuel smiled. “And thank Dahi.”

Giggling, Lottie ran back to where her sister was waiting fearfully on the porch.

“She's silly,” Brendan announced as he cornered a trio of chicks by the coop. He was almost buffeted from his feet by a gust of wind. “There's no one named Dahi here.”

“She believes there is. Why not let her have her fun?”

“Because it's silly.”

Samuel had to agree with that, but he did not answer as he chased some chicks away from the road. Pulling his shirt out of his denims, he used it as Megan had her apron to hold the fluffy balls. He brought these back and made a quick count as lightning flashed overhead. All but one were there. When another bolt struck the river directly down the bluff from the farm, he grasped Brendan's arm and hurried the boy up onto the porch.

“The rabbit!” cried the boy.

With a groan, Samuel ran back out into the yard. He picked up the small hutch. Seeing the last chick cowering beside it, he set it atop the wooden crate. He put the chick in the coop, then hurried up to the porch.

Brendan dropped to his knees and peered into the crate. “He's all right.”

“And he'll be fine here.”

“I should check on—”

“The animals in the barn will be nice and dry. You can check on them in the morning.” Opening the door, he said, “In the house, Brendan!”

As the boy hurried inside, lightning flickered again. A motion near the road caught Samuel's eye. He peered through the thickening darkness. He saw nothing moving but the tree limbs swirling in the wind. Pulling the door closed, he twisted the lock, so the wind could not snatch it open.

The storm seemed to have energized the children even more than the runaway chicks. It took him longer than usual to calm them down, and he made certain the chapter of the fairy-tale book he was reading them was a short one. They were jabbering like irritated crows when he sent Brendan to the room across the landing and tucked in the girls.