Trust Me II (40 page)

The door opened slowly and Creighton padded into the tiled room, barefoot and naked, a package of oat flavored fruit wafers in his hand. He handed them to her as he stepped to her side, kissing her forehead and pulling her into his warm embrace.

“It was bound to happen,” he told her reassuringly. “And as much as I would like to keep our secret, I’m not sure we will be able to.” Sandra nodded.

“I know, but I’d rather tell your family in person.”

“I’ve asked your grandparents to keep things quiet until we have a chance to make the announcement ourselves, and they agreed. I don’t think Nana was very happy about it though. I think she was looking forward to announcing the news to all of her friends.”

“I’m sure she was,” Sandra smiled, slipping a wafer into her mouth and slowly chewing.

“We can order some breakfast to be sent up if you would like?” he suggested a moment later. “I’m sure the restaurant delivers, or would with the right incentive.”

“Once again, money speaks?”

“Something like that.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I think I’d rather take a bath before I decide what I want to do today.”

“Sounds fine by me, but I want you to finish those biscuits first. Craig and Nellie said they were going to get their truck cleaned out and have their boys load up your stuff this morning. James told them to take it to the farm and Mary insisted that you should go through it all in the comfort of the house. I told them we would come over later this afternoon; I thought you may need a break from all chaos of yesterday and rest for a bit.”

“Always thinking aren’t you?” she teased, stuffing the last of the wafer into her mouth.

“That’s my job,” he smiled, kissing her forehead again. “Start the tub and if you’d like I’ll join you. If you want to be alone, I promise not to take offense.”

“I don’t mind if you come in, I rather enjoy using your chest as a pillow. It’s much more comfortable than the back of the tub.” Creighton laughed and swatted her bare bottom as she turned around to start the water. He smiled at the shocked expression on her face before leaving the room. A few minutes later, he returned with a bottle of juice, a package of double stuff Oreos and the ice container filled with watermelon.

“It’s from last night,” he told her, watching the frown that pulled her brows together. “Your grandmother insisted that I bring it
back for you and since the cabinet has a small refrigerator, it was easy to store.”

“So you want us to eat in the tub?” she teased, as he sat the items on the closed toilet lid.

“I don’t really care where we are, you need to eat. Our baby is relying on you to make him healthy.”

“What if he isn’t healthy?” she asked a moment later as she thought about the many things that could go wrong.

“Genetics has the final say in whatever happens, but I have faith that we’ll be happy with the outcome, regardless of what life has in store for us.”

“Do you think all this throwing up in doing any harm?” Sandra shut off the water and turned to look at him, as he sat on the edge of the tub and pulled her onto his lap.

“The books said nausea and vomiting is normal, so I doubt it’s caused any irreversible damage. You’ll just have to start taking things a little slower and much easier from now on and make certain you keep your snack bag with you. I don’t want you getting exhausted or overdoing it.”

“I can’t sit around and do nothing; that will make it worse.”

“But you don’t have to try and get everything done all at once either. Like yesterday, what was so important that you couldn’t wait to go through your stuff until you had some help? Do you know how dangerous it was, anything could have happened to you, especially as hot as it was.”

“I wasn’t entirely alone and I wanted to find something.”

“What?”

“I have something I wanted to give you and I thought it might help you forgive me for my stupid outburst the other night.”

“Just having you in my arms is all the forgiveness I need.”

“Stay here,” she said, and left the man to watch her naked departure as she hurried back into the bedroom. She found the box she had brought back with her and rummaged through it, locating the leather case and smiling. She took it with her and returned to the bathroom, handing it to him. Creighton frowned, but took the small box and looked at the engraving on the top; it was the same design as their matching tattoos, two hearts connected, one on top of the other.

“What is this?” he asked as he glanced up and saw the emotion in her eyes.

“It was my dad’s,” she said. “I got my mom’s earrings and that case. I want you to have it; open it.” Creighton wanted to push it aside and pull her to him, comforting the memories that danced on her delicate face, but instead he did as he was told and lifted the lid. Inside was a small key
-chain with a crystal hanging from the end and inside the gem was a single grain of wheat, preserved for all eternity. He looked up at her and frowned.

“My dad said, all it took was a single grain of hope, to grow a life of love and happiness,” she told him, tears shinning in her eyes. “That’s what I want you to have; a single grain of hope.”

Creighton sat the case aside and stood up, pulling her against his warm chest, holding her tightly for several long moments. He didn’t know what to say; he couldn’t begin to explain how much this simple gesture meant to him or how much he needed to hear her say these things. When he pulled away, his eyes matched hers; both filled with unshed tears of love and joy.

“You are my grain of hope,” he told her, cupping her cheek with his large hand.

“And you’re mine,” she whispered.

“Together, we can grow a life of love and happiness that spans generations to come.” Sandra nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck, their lips touching as their hearts embraced each other’s.

Only together would they make the future brighter; only together could they withstand all that life placed in their paths.

Sandra spent the rest of the morning with Mary, sorting through her belongings that Craig’s boys had brought to the farm; while James took Creighton into town for the farmer’s ritual of gathering for coffee at the local restaurant.
By ten o’clock both women were exhausted and ready for a break. Mary went inside as Sandra gathered together a few items she wanted to take home with her, determined to make Creighton help her categorize the furnishings, clothing and appliances when he returned. Mary returned a few minutes later with the wash to hang up on the line; a luxury of country living had always been crisp, air dried sheets come bedtime.

It was a humid morning and Sandra had worked up a sweat, making her feel more exhausted than the work alone could cause.
She stretched her aching back as she looked at the skies, noticing the heavy dark clouds that gathered in the western sky.

“Looks like rain,”
She told her grandmother as she helped her pin the sheets to the line.

“That would be nice,” Mary replied, glancing up to the skies. “A summer rain would be a welcome relief from the sticky heat we’ve had the past few weeks.”

Sandra
took the basket and walked with Mary toward the back porch, glancing over her shoulders once more at the dark skies. The clouds were heavy with moisture and she couldn’t hide the frown from pulling her brows together. Creighton had never seen a Kansas storm before; she only hoped he was still with James. At least he’d be safer than at the motel.

By
mid-morning the storm had blown in. Sandra looked out the kitchen window to the large vegetable garden on the south side of the house, and frowned. The rows of tomatoes and sweet corn stood at an angle in the gusting wind while leaves from the garden blew upwards; exposing several pickling cucumbers that Mary would soon put-up in jars to make her prize-winning bread and butter pickles.

“Come help me,” Mary shouted from the back door, causing Sandra to hurry outside.
The winds had picked up, blowing the sheets loose from the clothespins holding them to the line. They had to get them inside before the rains came. Sandra laughed as she and Mary fought to take the linen off the lines; struggling with the whipping corners that reached out toward the winds and noticing the change in the crisp air. The breeze had turned cold and they looked up to see the dark clouds move in front of the sun, dimming the light.

Once inside they turned on the television to the local news to check the weather forecast. Barton and surrounding counties were under a severe storm warning
from 10am until 2pm, which meant a threat of tornadoes.

Mary and Sandra went outside to the west side of the yard and looked up at the clouds. They hung low
in the sky and were a sickening grey-aqua color. The air had cooled off significantly and Sandra wrapped her arms across her chest to help hold the heat in. The wind had stopped and they could hear a very faint siren coming from town, two miles away, warning that a tornado had been spotted in the area.

A tremendous clap of thunder shook Mary and Sandra, filling the air with cold electricity. They turned and ran toward the cellar as the skies opened up, sending half inch hail stones pelting the women and making them cover their heads with their arms.

They climbed down the steps to the cellar, calling for Duke who lumbered up behind them. The cellar was nothing more than a large dugout underground; ten feet deep, five feet wide and fifteen feet long. The walls and floor were concrete and the ceiling was made of wood with three feet of dirt and earth heaped on top, giving it a dome shape in the north side of the yard. A heavy metal door was attached to the structure and Mary secured the bolt closed as soon as they were safe inside. The hail continued to pound against the door for several minutes, and then it stopped just as suddenly as it started, but the thunder could still be heard echoing through the concrete surrounding.

The wind had picked up tremendously and they could hear the tree trunks creaking and the wind chimes clanging from the porches. They crouched close together at the far end of the cellar, hugging onto Duke’s collar to keep him calm. The snugged in tight between the shelves where Mary stored her canned vegetables and winter supplies, listening to the storm rage above them.

Sandra couldn’t stop thinking about Creighton and James; she didn’t know if they had made it to safety or if her husband had ever seen a storm as violent as a tornado, before. She wished she could call him, to hear his soothing voice, but she had left her phone in the house. Mary whispered a soft prayer for their men, hoping they were not in the Bronco when the storm hit. Out of all the places they could be, a vehicle was by far the least safest place to hide.

Mary had endured many, many
tornadoes in her life on the plains; some of the neighbors referred to the storms as
trading lawn chairs
, since things that could not be tied down were blown away. Sandra had grown up practicing tornado drills at school and had endured the warning sirens many times while working at the library, taking refuge in the basement.

Violent hail, wind and rain storms were common
occurrences in central Kansas and could cause significant damage to buildings, vehicles and crops. Most farmers would insure their crops and farm equipment against loss from drought and storms, though it was never an easy process to replace or rebuild. Anyone who made a living working outdoors, tending livestock or crops had to prepare for Mother Nature’s temperament. Extreme weather was to be expected; freezing ice storms, blizzards, sub-zero winters; monsoon-type rains in the spring and long humid summers. Rivers would overflow their banks and flood the flat lands some years, while drought would touch the crops and turn the soil hard as stone, other years. It was a part of life on the plains; a life Sandra was praying she wouldn’t have to endure ever again. It was the only part of Kansas she wouldn’t miss.

Another bout of hail pounded
at the door, demanding entrance; this time the stones sounded larger and heavier than the previous one. Mary sighed, hoping her tomatoes and new azaleas would survive the storm. After a few minutes more, the hail stopped and soon the rain let up. Mary opened the cellar door and felt a cool moist breeze blow through the narrow space.

“I think it’s passed,” Mary said, looking back to Sandra who was trying to move around the large hound dog who coward by her side. They walked up the small steps and looked around; the ground was covered in a white blanket of inch sized balls of hail; it looked like a golf ball factory had exploded across the farm.

There didn’t appear to be much damage; a broken window on the garage, a displaced rain gutter and the Ziggler’s lawn chair and table were sitting next to Mary’s hammered azaleas and the ground was painted red with exploded tomatoes; other than that, they were quite lucky. There was no serious damage – this time.

“Nana, I have to call Creighton,” Sandra said; a sick feeling erupting in the pit of her stomach that had nothing to do with the baby.
“I have to make sure he’s alright.” She turned and hurried into the house, leaving her grandmother and Duke to look after her. Mary smiled as she patted the old hound dog’s head.

“Looks like things are going to be just fine,” she assured
him as she walked over to assess the remains of her garden.