Storm Track

Grove by mid-morning to meet them there.

I managed to get through to Aunt Zell on my cell phone, even though it was staticky and other voices kept fading in and out. She said most of Dobbs was without power but the phones were still working. She’d been worried since she hadn’t heard from any of us. I assured her that we were all physically fine.

“What about y’all?” I asked. “Everything okay there?”

“Not exactly,” she admitted. “Your Uncle Ash put our new Lincoln in the garage last night and left the old one sitting in the drive. You remember that big elm out by the edge of the yard? It totalled the garage and our new car both. Not a scratch on the old one. Ash is so provoked.”

I could imagine.

“And Portland called this morning. Remember how she and Avery fetched their boat home to get it out of harm’s way?”

I had to laugh. “Don’t tell me.”

“Yep. A pine tree cut it right half in two.”

* * *

Lashanda followed us around the yard, chattering sixty to the dozen, but Stan stayed busy helping the menfolks till Maidie called us in for sausage and griddle cakes.

There was no school, of course, and no court either, for that matter. Seth had brought over a battery-powered radio for Daddy and we listened open-mouthed to the reports coming in from around the area. Fran never made it beyond a category 3 storm, but it had moved across the state so slowly that it did much more damage than a stronger, faster-moving hurricane would have. Even more than legendary Hazel, they were saying. Most of the problems seemed to have been caused by trees falling on cars, houses and power lines. And there was quite a bit of flooding in low-lying areas.

“You’ll probably have the most dramatic science project in your class,” Cyl told Stan.

“Sounds like an A to me, too,” I said.

“Maybe,” he said, not meeting our eyes.

Andrew and A.K arrived with news that at least one lane of Highway 48 was clear in either direction and that they’d also heard it was possible to drive to Cotton Grove on Old 48.

“Reckon I’ll be going then,” said Dwight. “If Stan and Lashanda are ready to go, I can drop them off.”

Stan immediately put down his fork and stood up, but I said, “That’s okay. Cyl and I’ll take them. Ralph’s probably not home yet and Stan needs to get all his notes and books together, so we won’t hold you up.”

He and my brothers, Daddy and Cletus went back outside. Maidie was putting together the scraps of breakfast ham to take down to the caged hunting beagles.

“Why don’t you let Lashanda help you?” I asked with a meaningful cut of my eyes that Maidie read like a book.

As soon as Cyl and I were alone with Stan, I said, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he answered sullenly. At eleven, almost twelve, he might have a man’s height, but he was still a boy, a boy who wanted to play it cool, yet was still too inexperienced not to show his raw emotions. He pushed away from the table and walked into the den area to gather up his things.

Cyl shot me an apprehensive glance as we followed him in and began folding up the bedclothes.

“Did you hear us talking last night?” I asked him bluntly.

“What if I did?” he said, his back to us.

“Did you understand what you heard?”

Angry and confused, he turned on Cyl. “I liked you! I thought you were our friend.”

“I liked you too, Stan,” she said sadly. “I still do.”

“But you—? With my dad? While Mama’s lying there hurt?”

“What happened was before she was hurt,” Cyl said.

“But you want her dead!”

Cyl shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

“If you heard us talking,” I said, “then you heard that it’s over. Almost before it began. Stan—?”

He didn’t want to listen and when Cyl put her hand out to him, he backed away from her.

“I know you’re upset about your mom,” she said. “Mad at me and mad at your dad, and I can’t blame you for that. I’m not even going to try and ask you to understand, but—”

“Good!” he said hotly. “Because I don’t. And don’t try saying it’s because I’m too young either!”

“I wasn’t.” She finished folding a quilt, laid it on the growing stack I’d begun, and took a deep breath. “What happened between your father and me happened. It can’t ever be undone, but it is over. Finished. It doesn’t have to affect you and your sister unless you let it fester. What I’m asking is that you keep it between your father and me. Talk to him if you need to talk about it, but don’t bring anybody else into it. Especially your mom.”

“Yeah, I just bet you don’t want her to know!” he said angrily. “But she has a right to. She needs to!”

“No, she doesn’t.”