SPLINTER

Ep 9: Whispers in the Wind

Pike

“What in Heaven’s name happened to you?” Mae gawked from the doorway as we climbed the porch steps. She glanced at Lloyd, who was sneaking around the corner of the house, leading the horses to the barn, and then returned her astonished gaze to us. “Y’all look like you’ve been rollin’ in a pigpen full of ashes. Make sure ya dust off before you come into the house.”

We lined up in front of the doorway and brushed the dirt from our clothes and hair.

“Aw, not Miss Ellie, too.” Mae reached from the doorway and wiped away the dirt from Ellie’s cheek with her apron. “What am I goin’ to do with you boys?”

“Well a hot bath would be nice.” Al sat down on a wicker chair and dumped pebbles from his boot. “And some cold lemonade. My mouth is drier than a powder keg.”

Mae huffed and raised an eyebrow, revealing a humored glint. “That does sound nice. I’ll get right to it, and you can finish getting the supper on.” She disappeared into the house, letting the screen door slam behind her.

Lightning streaked in the distance, followed by a low rumbling of thunder. Wind gusted across the covered porch, almost knocking off my hat. “By the sound of it, you can rinse off and get that cool drink all at once when the rain gets here.”

“And risk getting fried by lightning? Uh uh. The bath can wait.” Al shook his head, stomped his boot, and adjusted his belt as he stood.

Ellie pinned back a loose strand of hair and attempted to smooth the folds in her muddied dress. “Well, you heard Mae, there’s supper to get on. Better clean up as best you can and get to the table before Mr. Al eats it all.” Her eyes danced between Al and me, an amused smile escaping her lips. She plucked a leaf from my mud-clumped hair and shook her head softly, chuckling as she entered the house.

After we washed up, Al and I settled into the dining room as the first wave of rain hit the windowpanes. I took my place at the head of the table and gazed aimlessly at the windows. The sheer white curtains reminded me of the many times I’d endured such a storm from within the meager shelter of a worn, canvas tent. A strange peacefulness crept over me as I listened to the raging elements from the comfort of a well-built home.

Bursts of lightning flashed outside, casting a sharp halo of light over the table. The wall sconces dimmed as their filaments crackled their last electrical sparks and faded to complete darkness. The crack of thunder that followed startled me from my thoughts.

“Looks like Pa’s generator is on the fritz again.” Another flash of lightning lit Al’s path as he entered the room, still stuffing his shirt into his pants.

“I’ll have Lloyd check it out after the storm passes. Tonight, we’ll eat by candlelight, like everyone else.” I felt around for a box of matches and when I found it, I lit the decorative table candles in front of us.

Al sat down in the chair to my right, leaning over the table as he inhaled the aroma of fresh-baked biscuits before settling into his seat. “Smells good. Oh how I’ve missed Mae’s cookin’.”

“Watch yourself, Mr. Al, unless you want supper in your lap.” Mae appeared beside us with a steaming pot and served us each a ladle of hot stew. “I reckon you’d eat just about anything right now.”

“I reckon you’re right, Ms. Mae. But nothing would taste better than your stew and fresh biscuits.” He scooped up his spoon in one hand and stuffed half a biscuit in his mouth with the other.

I split my bread and drizzled honey on each half. “I can’t remember the last time we had honey, can you?”

Still savoring his butter-soaked bun, Al spoke between chews, letting golden crumbs fall on to the linen tablecloth. “Too long. Must have been the night before we left, before…” He trailed off, the unspoken words as heavy as the pine boxes he was reluctant to mention.