Bound by Blood and Brimstone (14 page)

years.” He cleared his throat. “I thought you could put them with the one I made of me and get

the whole family together. Someday, when you have a little girl of your own, you can tell her

about family, and how important it is to be there for each other.”

Joy, gratitude, and inexplicable sorrow intertwined into a great knot that clogged my

throat. For several seconds, I couldn’t speak as the silence in the room drew itself out.

“Thanks, Daddy. I love them.”

“I’m glad, Ember Mae.” He paused for a moment, then stood abruptly, his knee joints

popping. “Now bundle up and come outside. There’s one more surprise.” Out on the porch, as

we shook our legs to warm up, he came out of the barn with his last present, a new sled, easily

big enough for two.

If that weren’t enough to floor us, his next statement did. Walking out to the end of the

yard, he dropped the contraption onto the snow-draped path and flopped down, belly-first.

“Okay, you two, climb on.”

Lorrie Beth looked at me, goggle-eyed. “Is he serious? He’s going to sled with us on his

back?”

I grinned back at her and stomped my feet to stave off the tingling. “Last one on is a

rotten egg!”

Hurtling down the hill on Daddy’s back was the next best thing to flying. The wind stung

and chafed our cheeks, and snow clung to our hair in frozen clumps, but we felt none of it.
This

must be what it feels like to be a comet, streaking across the night sky
, I thought, gripping

Daddy’s shoulders tighter.

That night, after stuffing myself on Momma’s pork roast and butterscotch pudding, I

went to our room and scooted my box of treasures out from under my bed. To Wonnie’s wedding

dress and the figurine of Daddy, I added the other four, lightly running my fingers over the

replica of me.

Slouching against the pillows, I sighed with contentment.
What a perfect day this has

been,
I thought. I would’ve savored it all the more had I known it would be my last completely

happy day.

It was a couple of weeks after Christmas, on a Saturday when we received bad news

about Janine Westerfield. I was in the front room, dusting, when Lonnie Watts arrived with our

mail and just stood there lurking in the doorway. Most of the time his nosiness didn’t faze me,

but as I opened the envelope, I burned with irritation at the way he gawked at me.

“It’s addressed to both you girls, but I figured it’d be okay to give it to you, Ember Mae,”

he said. “Postmarked all the way from Alabama, too,” he added helpfully. He must’ve thought I

couldn’t read that big, long word.

I pulled out the thick sheet of cream-colored stationery with shaky fingers. Janine had

written me two letters since leaving in August, both on plain notebook paper. Her return address

hadn’t been on this envelope, but who else could it be from?

“Sure smells fancy,” Lonnie said with a sniff. “Must be somebody rich, can afford paper

like that.” I stubbornly avoided his eyes, hopeful that he’d get the message and leave before I had

to resort to full-blown rudeness. Still he waited, hoping for some juicy morsel that he could

spread around the gossip mill.

At that moment, Momma came in, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. I suspected she’d

been listening the whole time and decided it was time to rescue me. Few words in our house

escaped Momma’s ears, which were a perfect match for the eyes in the back of her head. “Ember

Mae, why don’t you take that in your room and read it with Lorrie Beth? She should be back

from the henhouse any minute. Lonnie, come on in the kitchen. I think there’s a cup of coffee in

there with your name on it.”

Back in my room, I wasn’t about to wait for Lorrie Beth before unfolding that scented

page. Maybe it’s some kind of invitation to a party she’s having. Of course, they know we

couldn’t make it all the way from West Virginia, but it’s still the polite thing to do. That was my

last thought before my day was ruined. The letter was from Janine’s mother:

Dear Ember Mae and Lorrie Beth,

I know we’ve never met, but Janine has talked about you so much, I feel like I know you

both. I’ve never seen Janine happier than when she returned from spending the summer in Silver

Rock Creek. I know most of that had to do with the two of you and your family, so I thank you for

that.

I am writing you because I desperately need your help, and because I’ve done everything

else I know to do. My Janine is gone. On New Year’s Eve she left to go to a girlfriend’s house to

spend the night, she told me. The girl’s name is Amanda Rochester, and she lives only three

blocks away. Janine never made it to Amanda’s house, and she hasn’t been seen since. The

police think she ran away, but I can’t imagine why she would do such a thing. Her father and I

try to see to it that she has everything a girl could possibly want.

I know how smart my daughter is, and I wouldn’t put it past her to head your way.

Please, please, if you have seen her or heard from her, or if she told you anything that might help

us find her, let me know. I am sick with worry over my little girl, and I won’t rest until I find her.

Any information you can send me will be well rewarded. Again, thank you for giving my Janine

such a happy summer.

Sincerest Regards,

Eileen Westerfield

P.S. If you see Janine’s Aunt Sarah Jane, please don’t mention any of this.

She’s old and sick, and I worry about what this might do to her.

I don’t know how long I sat on the bed, just staring into space, after my knees had

buckled somewhere during the first paragraph. Foremost in my mind was the vision I’d had the

day Janine had stood on our porch to say goodbye, the one of the blonde girl in overalls, crying

into her hands. A chill stole over me, settling into the depths of my bones, and I hugged myself,

shivering.

“Ember Mae, what is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Lorrie Beth was at my side,

her basket of eggs forgotten by the doorway. Hurriedly, she knelt by the bed and picked up the

letter where I’d dropped it on the floor. Dimly, I was aware of her sitting beside me on the bed as

she read.

After only a minute or so, she gasped, putting her hand to her mouth, and with a

breathless “Oh,” she took another minute to finish reading.

“Ember Mae, what does it mean?” she whispered, turning to face me. Her lower lip

quivered, and tears were spilling over to trail down her cheeks. “What’s happened to Janine?

Where is she? Oh, what if somebody took her? What if she’s hurt?” She was getting worked up

now, and I wasn’t prepared to give her any comfort. “We have to do something; we have to find

her!”

She was crying openly now in small gulping sobs, swiping her eyes with the heel of her

hand. “Oh, I can’t bear to think of something happening to her!” She jumped up, letter in hand.

“Maybe Momma will know what to do,” she said, and with a whoosh, she was out the door at a

run.
Don’t bet on that
. The traitorous thought continued to cycle, like a maddened hamster on a

wheel. My brain had frozen, barricaded to all input, save the one image of the crying girl.

I had no idea how long I sat like that until Momma called me for lunch. I remember

standing in the kitchen doorway, watching her ladle up bowls of stew. Lorrie Beth sat at the

table, her face drawn and pale, her eyes swollen. Lonnie Watts was gone.

“Lorrie Beth told me about Janine, Honey,” Momma said, setting the bowls on the table

and pulling out my chair. “I know you’re upset, but you have to have faith that things will turn

out. That girl can take care of herself, and with the Lord’s help, she’ll be all right. Now, come on

and eat some lunch, and try to put it out of your mind.”

Out of sight, out of mind was Momma’s way. It was her best, but it wasn’t nearly good

enough, and I choked on the words that I wanted to lash her with.
Put it out of my mind? How

can you
say that, Momma? This isn’t about a bad grade at school. This is
about a real live

person
,
gone without a trace.
Suddenly, I knew I couldn’t stay another minute in the room with

her. I shoved back my chair and, mumbling something about not being hungry, fled back to my

room.

I spent the rest of the day in a fog, wandering listlessly about the house, interested in

nothing. Lorrie Beth wanted to talk about it, but I couldn’t. Saying the words out loud too many

times would’ve made it too real for hope to take root.

I got out the letters Janine had written me and went over them with a jeweler’s precision,

but there were no clues to be found. All she’d talked about were our summer adventures and the

boredom of a new school year. Those startling sapphire eyes haunted me, tearing at my heart.

Where are you, Janine? If you let yourself get hurt, so help me, I’ll never forgive you
.

The next couple of nights I awakened in darkness, choking and clawing, the shreds of a

dream vaporizing before I could call them back. The only thing I remembered was the sensation

of a gigantic weight crushing me and battling to suck breath into my shriveling lungs.

Both nights it was the same. I would lie there in black limbo, waiting for my heart to

stop trip hammering. Then I’d get up and go to the kitchen to sit alone with my thoughts.

The third night, I had no dream, but awakened to the sound of rain pinging off the tin roof

and the smell of coffee brewing. It was early, even for Daddy to be up, but I found him in the

dark kitchen, smoking.

“Is something wrong, Daddy?” What time is it?” I rubbed sleep from my eyes and sat

beside him.

“It’s still early, Honey, just 2:30. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I may as well get up. Sorry

if I woke you.”

I stood and shuffled to the coffee pot, pouring both of us a cup. “You didn’t. The rain

did.” I yawned, wondering if I should tell him about the suffocating dream, but decided against

it. Daddy worked so hard in that hole under the ground. I hated to worry or upset him if it wasn’t

necessary.

I sat back and watched as he took a cautious sip, then a draw from his cigarette. “It

started raining soon as I turned out the light, and it hasn’t slowed down since. There’s been talk

in town of big rain. Folks are saying once it starts, it won’t let up for days.” He gave me a

worried glance. “If that’s true, we’ll have a flood for sure.”

Then, as if signaled by his spoken words, the thunder exploded, vibrating the floor under

my feet. I jerked and sloshed coffee on the table, and the pinging on the roof geared up to the

thwack of hammer blows. It was as if the doors of the heavens had been thrown open, unleashing

all that was promised Noah.

The clatter was deafening, and we had to raise our voices to be heard. The room flashed

with three quick strobes of lightning, throwing Daddy’s face in sharp relief. I could even see the

network of tiny lines that crisscrossed the corners of his eyes.

“I think you and Lorrie Beth better stay home from school,” he yelled. He got up and

walked to the window to part the curtains. Nothing could be seen beyond the blasting sheets of

water. He turned back to me. “Ember Mae, I have no choice about going to work, but if this

keeps up, the roads will be blocked in a couple of hours. I may not make it home tonight if it

floods, so I want you to promise you’ll take care of your Momma until I get back. I brought

Wonnie to stay these last few weeks because I trust her with Momma, but I’m especially

counting on you.” He flashed me a broad smile. “You’re younger and stronger.”

I went to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face in his rough shirt.

“I won’t let you down, Daddy. You can trust me.” He stroked the back of my head without

speaking, as another thunderclap rent the night.

“This is enough to wake the dead! Have you ever heard such noise?” It was Momma,

shouting to be heard as she waddled in from the bedroom, pulling her robe together over her

stomach. “Let me pack your lunch before you go, Will.”

After Daddy left, disappearing into the deluge, I went in to jostle Lorrie Beth awake. The

sound of the storm may have been enough to wake the dead, but not my sister. Wonnie Dean had

been awake all along, but she hadn’t gotten up from her pallet by the fire until Daddy was gone.

It wasn’t her way to insinuate herself upon private family moments.

With all of us up, there didn’t seem much else to do but wait for dawn and the hope of

respite from the relentless downpour. Finally, a hazy gray light bled out of the darkness, and with

it, no relief. I knew there would be no school, and even if there had been, no umbrella in the