From Glowing Embers (5 page)

Gray laughed softly to himself as he turned onto Black Creek Road. If he told Julie Ann his thoughts, she’d tell him he was crazy. He knew she thought of herself as one step above ugly. And she didn’t care. At least, she said she didn’t. When he kissed her, he knew she thought he was just whiling away the summer months. And that was probably how it had started. But lately...

He pulled into the space in front of Julie Ann’s house. Actually, calling the unpainted shack a house was an example of positive thinking. There was no grass surrounding it, just dirt and dust and a collection of abandoned junk cars. A magnolia shaded a porch that had long since lost part of its roof, and the only screen in evidence hung diagonally from one corner of a window frame. Every time Gray saw the place where Julie Ann had been raised, he found her more of a miracle. She was like a flower pushing up through inches of cement to bloom straight and proud in the middle of a sidewalk.

Gray had been taught never to honk for a girl. A Sheridan went up to the front door, knocked, introduced himself and promised faithfully to have his date home by midnight. Now, however, this particular Sheridan honked. He knew that if he went to the door, both he and Julie Ann would regret it.

She was outside in a second. As she slid into the seat beside him, Gray admired the pink blouse she was wearing with her jeans. “Is that blouse new? It looks pretty with your hair.”

He didn’t have to look at her to know that the compliment would make her blush. “I made it.”

“One of your designs?”

“Sort of. I adapted a pattern. The shawl collar was my idea.”

He took his eyes off the road long enough to nod in approval. “Cute.” And it was, but not as cute as the rosy-cheeked girl wearing it. For a moment she looked almost pretty.

“Where are we going?” she asked, her face straight ahead to avoid his eyes.

“To the coast, unless you have to be back early for something. I thought we could pick up some chicken and have dinner at the beach house.”

“That sounds great!” Although she and Gray had driven to Granger Inlet to walk along the beach, they had never been inside the house, never made the trip a real date.

He smiled at her enthusiasm. “That’s what you always say.”

“I guess I’m a pushover.”

“It’s a good thing I’m such a gentleman, then.”

“And so humble, too.”

He ruffled her hair, but his fingers lingered just a little too long to be playful. “Why don’t you let your hair grow?” he asked her. “It’s pretty.”

“I’d look like a mop.”

“I like long hair.”

“By the time it grew long you’d be an old married man, and it wouldn’t matter.”

“It takes ten years to grow?”

She laughed. “You’ll be married before you’re twenty-four, Gray.”

“What makes you think so?” Gray swung the car into the Kentucky Fried Chicken parking lot.

“Because I think you’re somebody who needs to be married.”

He cut off the engine and considered her words. “Why?”

“You have a lot you want to share with someone.”

He’d never thought about himself that way, but he wondered if she was right.

They talked and teased on the way down to the beach house. When they finally pulled up, the waters of Granger Inlet were wind-tossed, and the sky was a steely gray.

“Looks like we’re going to get a storm.” Gray took the beach house steps two at a time, the bag of chicken in one hand. “They blow in and blow out fast down here. It probably won’t last long.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open. Julie Ann was still rooted to the ground beside the car. “Are you coming, funny kid? Or do you want a picnic in the rain?”

“I hate storms,” she said so softly that he almost missed the words.

“Well, you’re going to hate this one worse if you’re outside in the middle of it.”

She nodded and started up the steps behind him.

“My parents spent the weekend down here, so the refrigerator should be stocked. Let’s see what we’ve got to drink.” Gray set the bag down on the kitchen table and rummaged through the refrigerator. “Beer, Coke...” He opened a carton and sniffed. “Sour milk.” He looked up to see Julie Ann gazing around her.

“This is a beach house?” she asked with a catch in her voice.

“It’s nothing like the places going up along the water now. No dishwashers and central air. Just lots of Gulf breezes.”

“You could put our whole house in this one room alone.”

Gray was stricken with remorse. He had been apologizing for the simple frame structure, but it must look like a palace to Julie Ann. “My grandparents used to spend their summers down here. We had to put it back together piece by piece after Hurricane Camille, but it’s gotten a lot of use in its day.”

“It’s wonderful.”

“What’ll you have to drink?”

“Coke. Do you want me to set the table?”

“I thought we could sit outside on the porch and watch the storm come across the water.”

“Not my thing.”

He looked up and saw she wasn’t kidding. She was paler than he’d ever seen her. “How about at the table in the living room, then? You can sit with your back to the windows.”

“Tell me where everything is.”

He poured the drinks while she set the table. Gray wondered why she was so frightened. He could see her fear in the set of her jaw and the faint tremor of her hands; he could hear it in her monosyllabic answers and the long silences that followed his attempts to make conversation.

He sat catty-corner to her instead of across the table, hoping that his nearness would give her some comfort. “Eat,” he commanded. “If you miss a meal, you’ll waste away.”

“There are women all over this country who’d give anything they owned to hear those words.”

Gray was encouraged by her attempt at humor. “Try some of the cole slaw. It’s good.”

Julie Ann obliged him, chewing for a long time before she swallowed. He could see she was making an effort to act normally, and he felt a wave of affection.

“Let’s put some music on.” Gray stood and walked across the room to flip on the radio. “There’s a Gulfport station I can usually pick up.”

Soft rock music filled the empty spots in their conversation. When Gray had eaten his chicken and most of hers, too, they cleaned up. The breeze sweeping in through the open windows had changed, growing brisker. The temperature had dropped as the sky darkened, and now distant flashes of lightning lit the room. Each time, Julie Ann winced as if she’d been struck.

Gray watched her as he tied the garbage so he could take it out when they left. She was trying to ignore the storm, but every minute or two she sneaked a glance outside, and her expression grew more desolate as the storm drew nearer.

If there was one indisputable quality Julie Ann had, it was courage. To see her frightened of anything was a new experience for him. He felt protective of her in a way he never had before. He felt responsible for making her more comfortable, and the feeling was a good one.

“Let’s sit and talk,” he said, not giving her a chance to say no. He steered her across the kitchen and into the living room. He settled himself on the sofa, then pulled her beside him. They were facing the windows.

“I don’t want to sit here.” Julie Ann tried to stand, but Gray held her still.

“Isn’t it better to know what’s going on than to worry about it? You keep sneaking looks anyway.”

“Don’t make fun of me!”

“I’m not.” He pulled her resisting body closer. “I would never make fun of you. I know you’re scared. But we can’t get away from the storm. I don’t want to drive in it. That would be worse. We’re just going to have to wait it out.”

She stopped trying to pull away, but her body was still stiff beside his.

He smoothed the hair over her ear, then watched it drift back to caress her cheek. “Why are you so afraid?”

“I just don’t like storms.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“This house has stood for seventy years, and the only time it’s been touched was by Camille. We’re safe here.”

“I don’t feel safe.”

He tried to think of a way to help. “Don’t think about the storm. Think about me.”

She turned her head, and he could read the fear in her eyes. “What should I think about you?”

“Why don’t you think about how I’m not going to let anything happen to you, how I’m going to be sure you’re safe and warm here with me, no matter how hard it rains outside.”

“I hate to tell you this, but the Sheridans don’t control the skies.”

“Come on, funny kid, do you think there’s a lightning bolt up there with your name on it?”

“There was one with my sister’s name on it.”

Gray didn’t know what to say. His hand crept back to her hair. “Mary Jane?” he asked finally.

She laughed harshly. “Some people’d say Mary Jane is just
asking
to get struck by lightning. But it wasn’t Mary Jane. It was Nancy Sue. She was a year younger than me. She died when she was eight.”

Gray didn’t want to know how it had happened. Most of the time when he was with Julie Ann, he could forget the way she had been brought up and the things she had endured. When he couldn’t ignore them, however, they ate at him unmercifully. The more he got to know her, the less tolerance he had for her pain. It was becoming his.

Julie Ann stood and went to the windows. She began to crank them shut. “Maybe we could play cards or something until the storm gets here and then leaves.”

Her words were greeted with a slash of lightning and an almost simultaneous burst of thunder. The lights went off, and the room was plunged into near darkness. Julie Ann cried out. In a moment Gray’s arms were around her.

“That happens sometimes,” he soothed her. “The lights go off, or the phone goes out. It never lasts long. Don’t worry.” He could feel her trembling against him.

She slipped her arms around his waist and held tight, but her body was still stiff.

“Let me finish closing the windows, and then we’ll go in the back bedroom. There aren’t so many windows in there, and we can close the curtains.” He pulled away reluctantly and finished the windows as quickly as he could. Then he held out his hand. “Come on, Julie Ann. It’s going to be okay.”

In the bedroom he drew the curtains tight. There had been enough power failures in the past for the beach house to be in an eternal state of preparation for the next one. He lit a kerosene lantern that was sitting on the dresser and went to sit on the bed beside Julie Ann. She looked as uncomfortable as she did forlorn, and without thinking about the consequences, he stretched out and drew her toward him. “You might as well get comfortable,” he pointed out. “We’ve got some time to kill before it ends.”

“How long do you think it will last?”

“Not too long.” He settled her beside him, then sat up to remove both their shoes. When he lay down again, he pulled her close to lie with her head on his shoulder. “There now. Does that feel safer?”

“Safer than what? I’m lying on a bed with a man, and you’re talking about safe?”

He laughed, pleased that she could joke—if she was joking. “I never take advantage of funny kids.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

He stroked her hair and wondered why he had stuck with the nickname. He didn’t think of her as a kid, although in some ways she was still a baby. More and more, though, he realized just how mature she was. She had seen things...

Her sister had been hit by lightning. He tried to imagine what that must have been like for Julie Ann. He wondered if she had been with Nancy Sue when it happened. It was no surprise that storms terrified her. How did she get through them at home? He felt her body relax a little as he stroked her hair. Who comforted her when he wasn’t around? Who had comforted her after Nancy Sue’s death?

“Tell me about your sister,” he said finally. He didn’t want to know, but he didn’t want her to carry the burden by herself anymore, either.

He suspected she was struggling with her answer, because she didn’t say anything for a long, long time. They had made a silent pact right at the beginning of their relationship that they wouldn’t talk about anything that would point out their differences. Now he was asking her to break it.

“My daddy drank,” she began at last. “All the time. For all I know he was born a drunk, because as far as I can tell, nobody ever remembers seeing him sober. He wasn’t a nice drunk, either. He was mean when he woke up with a hangover and meaner still when he’d gotten a few drinks in him to get rid of it. But he was meanest when he wanted a drink and couldn’t have one.” She moved closer when thunder boomed ferociously.

“What did your father have to do with Nancy Sue’s death?”

“Daddy never wanted kids. Neither did my mother. We learned to stay out of their way real fast, sort of a Mason survival instinct, I guess. One day my daddy came home from town, and every kid in the family knew they’d better leave him alone. He hadn’t had a drink in three days, because it was the end of the month, and the welfare check had been gone for a week. He’d gone into town to see if he could wheedle some cash from a friend, but he hadn’t succeeded.”

She sighed. “We were all hungry. Food had run out right along with the money, and there wasn’t anything left except some dried beans we were soaking for dinner. Nancy Sue knew better, but she started crying about something. I don’t even remember what, now. I grabbed her to keep her quiet, and Daddy threw us both outside and locked the door.”

“Julie Ann.” Gray put both his arms around her and hugged her harder.

“We were used to it, but this time there was a storm coming. We pounded on the door when the rain started, but nobody would let us in. The porch wasn’t any protection, and we were both getting wet. When the lightning and thunder started, we got scared. My daddy’s truck was locked, but somebody had junked a car off the road not far from our house, and we decided we’d run there and get in until the storm passed. I could run faster than Nancy Sue, so I ran on ahead to open the doors. I got there fine. Nancy Sue didn’t make it.”

He held her tight, unable to speak.

“Afterward the sheriff wanted to know what we were doing out in the storm. My daddy told him we were playing. He told him that he’d been calling and calling for us to come in. Nobody asked me.”