Waiting For Lily Bloom (5 page)

 

****

 

Bang, bang, bang.

James's skull pounded as he leapt from his chair. Wincing, he grabbed his lower back with his left hand and his neck with his right. He blinked, squinting at the bright sunlight streaming through the windows.

Lily gasped and bounded from her rocking chair. She clutched the quilt in her fists, a crease lining her forehead. She took a step and tripped on the quilt.

He dove as she tumbled forward, steadying her. She clung to his forearms as he embraced her. If she looked disoriented before, she was wide-awake now. Her golden eyes blinked, and her lips parted. Something shifted in his chest.

The door burst open and sand rolled into the room.

“Lily?” Ned's gaze darted back, forth, and rested on James.

James released Lily and stepped back. Were his eyes playing tricks on him?

Ned stood atop a hill of sand on his front porch, peering down into his house.

“Lily!” Charity whimpered. She bypassed Ned and stepped inside.

Ned coughed and followed. Dirt rolled in with him.

James ran to the door. He released a pent up breath that whistled through his teeth. The entire yard was blanketed waist-deep in dirt. Submerged. Demolished. He stepped up—
up!
—out of his door and onto the dirt, stumbling as he climbed the sand that buried his porch. If he raised his hand, he'd touch the overhang.

A tearful reunion erupted behind him, but he ignored it. His feet sank into the powdered silt. He couldn't find the steps. Everything was buried. He looked right and left.
What…? Where…?
He placed his hands on his head. Was he dreaming?

The sun shone like fool's gold, mocking him. To his left, the barn had sunk in a sea of dirt. The corral was somewhere to the right, interred like a pine box. And the tree…where was it?

The chicken coop was gone. No sign of Fitz or Myrtle. Did he dare walk to the creek? Could he even find it?

“Thank God you're safe.” Charity's relieved voice belied the devastation in front of him.

Turning back to his visitors, he stepped down from the dirt mound into his house. The clinging trio faced him, their eyes brimming with tears.

He stared at them, raised his hands, and dropped them to his sides. What could he say?

Ned placed his hand on James's shoulder. “It's a mess. But we're alive. Thank the Lord for that.” The man's voice was gravelly, like he'd smoked a pack of cigarettes.

“Your farm? The town?” James watched Ned's mouth open and close. His neighbor shook his head and coughed, a horrible, wet clamor that caused his eyes to bulge and a vein to pulse in his forehead.

“Did you get caught in it?”

“Tried to beat it.” The older man wheezed. “Rode as hard as I could when I seen it comin'. I made it to the barn. Charity was midwifin'.”

“Anya?” James questioned Charity.

Charity's face crumpled, and she buried it in her hands.

Lily sobbed and gripped her aunt's forearm.

“The baby?” James choked on the words.

Charity shook her head and wept.

He closed his eyes. Poor Henry. Would loss and grief ever cease?

Ned gripped his shoulder. “I know, son. But we'll get through it. We'll help each other. After the wedding, we'll go visit Henry.”

James cocked his head. “What?”

“Henry. We'll go visit him after the wedding.”

The poor man must've swallowed too much dust. “You mean after the funeral.”

Ned's eyebrows rose. “The funeral won't be today.”

James scratched his head. “I'm sorry. I thought you said—”

“I said we'll go visit him after the wedding.”

“Who would get married
now
?” James looked out the window at the destruction. Plus, the sun would be setting soon. Nobody got married at night.

“Who would get married? You and Lily, of course.”

Lily's gasp ricocheted in his head. This truly was the strangest dream. Had the storm blown Ned's mind away as well? Yet there the man stood, watching him and waiting for a response. “What on earth are you talking about?”

Ned's gaze narrowed. “I'm talkin' about us going to visit a grievin' man after you marry my niece.”

“Marry your niece?” James's throat closed off, stealing his breath. “
Marry
your
niece?
”

Ned stepped forward. The vein in his forehead throbbed. “Bloom, you're not ruining my niece's reputation.”

Lily rushed to Ned and yanked on his sleeve. She shook her head, eyes shining with tears.

“
Ruining…
?” James squeezed his eyes shut. Had the man gone crazy? “Ned, we got caught in the storm. I planned to bring her home when it stopped, but you beat me to it. Nothing untoward happened, you have my word. We came inside, cleaned up, and rested a minute.”

“A
minute
? Bloom, it's Monday morning. My niece has been in your home overnight!”

The room tilted. James grabbed the edge of the kitchen table to steady himself. The dream was now a full-fledged nightmare. It had to be.

On the mantel, the clock's pendulum swung back and forth, the same way Lily had, rocking in his chair, listening to him prattle about the farm.

Seven-twenty? It was 7:20? It should be dark. Unless…impossible. He never slept past daybreak. His rooster always…
his rooster always woke him.

He ran to the window and scanned the barren landscape. No chicken coop. No rooster.

Sweat popped out on his forehead. His ears rang.

“Bloom—”

“Other than us, did anyone else know about Lily being here?”

“James!” Charity cried.

“Everyone knows.” Ned growled. “Charity had help midwifin'. When the storm hit, she was terrified and started praying Lily would return safely from your house. Then this mornin' folks were up early, surveyin' damage. We asked everyone we passed if they'd seen Lily. We told them she'd been at your house. It's common knowledge!”

The wind blew outside his window, sweeping dust along.

“Bloom—”

“Just…just give me a minute.” He gripped the window sill and closed his eyes. This wasn't how he expected the Lord to answer his prayers for a wife.

 

 

 

 

4

 

If someone waved a feather in Lily's direction, she'd topple.

The community was digging through what was left of their belongings, so at least she wouldn't have an audience if she fainted.

She closed her eyes and reopened them. Reverend Cox still stood before her at the front of the church, reading from his little book. His lips moved, but the blood pounded so in her ears, she couldn't hear his words. How had it come to this?

Uncle Ned tried to call Papa, but the storm disabled the telephones. The storm hadn't only destroyed communication, property, and transportation, it had also destroyed lives.

Presently, hers.

She'd written in the dust on James's table, pleading with Uncle Ned. He wouldn't relent. The fact that Papa would've made the same decision brought no comfort. Papa loathed the very thought of scandal.

If only she'd dropped off the mending and left. In fact, Aunt Charity should've returned it. Oh, why had she even boarded the train to Oklahoma to begin with?

Church pews glistened from a recent cleaning, and the heady scent of eucalyptus oil filled the air. Dust coated the outside windows, filtering the incoming light in shades of rose and purple.

She stood in her everyday dress, which hadn't fared much better than her ruined Sunday dress.

“Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

Merciful stars.

“I do.” Uncle Ned's voice scraped like steel wool on a cast iron skillet.

Having never known her mother's embrace, how strange that she'd long for it now. She glanced at her husband-to-be.

Poor James.

She'd ruined the man's chance for a normal wife.

 

****

 

He'd seen more color on a corpse.

Lily's cheeks blanched, making her eyes as big as silver dollars.

Poor Lily. He never should've fallen asleep during the storm.

“Place the ring on Lily's finger, and repeat after me.”

He took her trembling hand in his. As he held his mother's ring at the tip of Lily's finger, she bowed her head, eyes downcast.
Oh, Lily. This can't be easy for you, either.
He palmed the ring in his left hand and gently lifted her chin with his right.

Her eyes met his, uncertainty in their depths.

He released her chin, lifted her hand, and brushed his thumb across her knuckles. Looking into her eyes, he slid the slightly-loose ring onto her finger and repeated his vow.

The promises he made echoed in his ears and burned in his chest.
She's Your choice for me, isn't she, Lord?
Why hadn't he seen it until now?

Reverend Cox spoke to Lily. “Your nod will signify the exchange of your vow and your pledge of fidelity. I, Lily, take thee, James…”

She nodded curtly after each phrase.

How brave she was. He squeezed her hand.

“You may kiss the bride.”

Lily's eyes widened, and she gulped.

He placed his hands on her tense shoulders, leaned forward, and pressed his lips against her cold cheek.
This is my helpmeet. The answer to my prayers.

Five longs years had passed, but The Lord answered, and His timing was perfect. Lily was meant for him, ordained by God.

How long would it be before she knew it, too?

 

****

 

Heavens, she'd been kissed. His lips were warm against her skin. She shivered when he touched her shoulders. Her heart flopped like a fish on the riverbank.

How could James be so calm, so accepting of this tragic turn of events? Wasn't he was as opposed to this marriage as she? Why hadn't he railed? Fought for his freedom?

Uncle Ned came forward and shook hands with James.

Her
husband
. She blinked, placing a hand on her churning stomach. She was married.

She'd dispelled thoughts of marriage years ago. Men weren't exactly lining up to marry a mute woman. Mercy…she'd just been forced to marry a man based on catastrophe and convention. She'd done nothing wrong! Neither had James, for that matter.

Aunt Charity enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug. “You did fine.” The lanky woman patted Lily's cheeks. “Don't worry. James is a good man.”

It was true. He'd rescued her in the storm, cared for her afterward, and saved her reputation. Even though he'd been forced to marry her, he didn't blame her. Instead, he'd been gentle. Tender.

“You'll be happy.” Aunt Charity clasped her hands together as if in prayer. “Thank the Lord for His providence.”

His providence?

Her aunt linked their arms and walked to the door.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Driggers. I'll escort Mrs. Bloom.”

Aunt Charity spun around, her mouth forming a small
O
.

James stood behind them, his head lowered and his right eyebrow raised.

“Oh, dear…whatever was I…? I'm sorry, James.” Aunt Charity released Lily's arm and James intertwined it with his.

Was that joy lighting his eyes? Now that they were married, what would he expect? What did they have in common? She knew as much about being a farmer's wife as she did about automobiles. Well, then, she'd learn. After all, she was a Driggers. The Driggers persevered. She was also a Bloom.

What did the Blooms do?

“I know this isn't what you had in mind when you came to visit,” James held her hand and touched her wedding ring. “But I want you to know, I meant the words I promised. God is faithful. Everything else, we'll learn together.”

A knot formed in her throat, making it difficult to swallow. Was this the same man she believed cold and wicked? She nodded and watched their joined hands. How strange it was to see his large, brown hands enfold her small, pale ones.

Uncle Ned thanked Reverend Cox and then escorted Aunt Charity outside.

James patted Lily's hand and followed the older couple.

They walked into the desert-like streets, following half-buried telephone poles to guide them to Henry's house. The entire town was submerged in an ocean of dirt. Friends and neighbors passed, tipped their hats, coughed into handkerchiefs, and exchanged storm stories like the sailors back home. The tales were the same. One calamity after another.

If this was what passed for God's providence, she wasn't interested. She'd take care of herself.

 

****

 

“I'm going to California.”

James and Ned stood before a broken man.

Henry's clothes drooped, as though they'd rather be worn by someone else. Stubble and dust covered his weathered face. His hollow eyes looked through James rather than at him. Death lingered in the house.

A toddler cried in the corner.

Charity picked up the little girl. Her face was dirty, her hair matted. She wore a dress made from a flour sack. Scraped, knobby knees poked out from under her makeshift dress. A dark-yellow bump bruised her forehead. Six more dusty, skinny children glared up at them, motionless.

“Maybe I'll find work there. I'm leaving after the funeral.” Henry's voice cracked, and his eyes glistened. “The preacher said he'd help settle the kids. I've tried to think of a way to make it work, but…” The man heaved in a ragged breath and expelled it. “I'm just not able.”

Trouble was, no one else was able, either. Everyone was suffering.

Henry wasn't the only one leaving. If everyone abandoned their children, who'd be left to raise them?