The Four Winds of Summer

By Sandra Craig

Summer is a woman of endurance. On the family farm where she grew up, she lived through the death of her mother and a near rape. She longed for the father she never knew. When Bobby, the love of her life, goes off to college, she feels alone. It would be years before they meet again. Summer moves to D.C. to be near her sisters, and becomes very successful.

Everything in her life is the way it should be until the men she becomes involved with are mysteriously murdered. The detective investigating the murders hounds Summer, believing she is involved. Summer is determined to find who and why the person doing the killing has targeted the men in her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Dec 18, 2002
• ISBN: 9781462085538

Sandra Craig

Sandra Craig lives in Maryland. This is her first novel.

Book preview

All Rights Reserved © 2002 by Sandra Craig

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

Writer’s Showcase an imprint of iUniverse, Inc.

For information address:

iUniverse, Inc.

2021 Pine Lake Road, Suite 100

Lincoln, NE 68512

www.iuniverse.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN: 0-595-25737-2 (pbk)

ISBN: 0-595-65295-6 (cloth)

ISBN: 978-1-4620-8553-8 (ebook)

Printed in the United States of America

Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

To my mother, Edmonia S. Burke, who told me that I could do anything I wanted, if I really wanted to do it, and to never accept no as an answer. And, to my beautiful daughters, Djuna C. Ricks and Tammy Y. Craig, who always allowed me to try.

Thanks

There are several people who have had faith in me and encouraged me throughout my life. Some have passed on and some are still here. I do not have to mention them by name. The ones that are still here, know who they are.

Dr. Virgil Franklin for taking time away from his busy schedule to read my book and provide suggestions to make it real. Also for the encouragement when things didn’t seem like they were going to work out.

Pearl E. Luther, who enjoyed reading The Four Winds of Summer, before it was finished, and told me to go for it.

I couldn’t have come this far without my beautiful children; Djuna C. Ricks and Tammy Y. Craig. They never pull any punches.

Daniel spake and said, I saw in my vision by night, and behold, the four winds of the heaven strove upon the great sea. And four great beasts came up from the sea diverse one from another. Daniel 7:2-3

CHAPTER 1

The sound was deafening. When the gun went off, my eyes were tightly shut. I didn’t see who shot Dan. The weight of him pinned me down. I was unable to move or breathe. When my mother pulled him off of me, I remembered screaming. I couldn’t stop screaming. My mother didn’t shoot him. It would be years before I knew who did.

Dan was my stepfather. Now that he’s dead, he will never know that what he had tried to do to me caused the death of many people. I will always hold him responsible. Not directly perhaps, but nonetheless responsible. Now, I am the only one left. It’s amazing how one person can make such a difference in the lives of so many. While I try not to dwell on the past, it is difficult not to when my life is back there. Now I sit alone, remembering when our home was a happy one. The hamlet of Waterville was so small, it couldn’t be found on any map. Now it is gone. Years after I left, it was incorporated into the larger town that surrounds it, but I still refer to it as Waterville. New homes, built on a grand scale, now dot the landscape. The Waterville I knew as a child had slipped into history.

We lived in a little house on the side of a dusty road in Virginia. We didn’t have modern appliances or indoor plumbing. We worked hard and if trouble was money, we would have been rich. One thing we were rich in was love. God knows that before Dan came into our lives, there was a lot of love in our home.

We produced almost all that we ate, growing vegetables and fruit trees. We didn’t have an icebox because there was no place to buy ice. We churned cream, from the one cow we had, into butter. To keep milk and butter from spoiling, we put them in small tin buckets, which were tied to low-lying branches to keep them from floating away, and placed in the cool water of the spring. Water came from a pump by the side of the house. The outhouse was a good twenty yards from the rear of the house, hidden by bushes. In the winter, you could freeze to death if you stayed out there too long. In the summer, you had to be aware of snakes, spiders and other bugs. We didn’t always have toilet paper, but there was always a Sears and Roebuck catalog handy. It stayed in the outhouse, where the pages were crumpled and used when necessary. Slop jars were used during the night. Each morning they were emptied, washed and left outside to air out. Just before bedtime, they were taken back to the bedrooms. Baths were only taken on Saturday nights because it took too much time to fill the tin tubs with water, and then heat the water on the woodburning stove. During the week, we took sponge baths.

Summer in the south is known for its heat and humidity, and the summer of 1939, the year of my birth, was no different. As unbearable as it was outside, it always beat the sweltering heat inside the house. Doors and windows stayed shut to keep out flies. Sticky flypaper strips hung from ceilings to trap the flies that made their way into the house when a door was opened. It didn’t take long before the strips were full and had to be replaced. There was always a stray cat or two hanging around, bathing in the sun or lying on the porch.

During the day, sun provided the necessary light inside the house. Kerosene lanterns provided flickers of light at night. A big snowstorm would keep us from going anywhere for days at a time.

According to the post office, neither rain, nor snow, nor the dark of night would keep the postman from delivering the mail. Obviously, whoever said those words, had never been to Waterville during a snowstorm. The house was heated by the woodburning stove in the kitchen, and a fireplace in the front room. Three or four quilts on the bed kept us warm during the night. The house was built by my greatgrandfather shortly after the civil war, and nothing in it had changed.

I lived with my mother, Margaret, my grandfather, Louis, and my two sisters, Megan and Shirley. Megan, four years older than I, was a very serious and studious child. She started reading before she could talk. Shirley, a year younger than Megan, needed a lot of attention. She always had a story to tell, and expected Mom to stop whatever she was doing to listen. They were very pretty children.

My father, James Banks, wasn’t there when I was born. He had gone into the United States Army after Mom became pregnant with me. He never came back. Without pictures, I wouldn’t have known what he looked like. The pictures were black and white and not very clear, but I could see that he was a handsome man. The one I liked best was him in uniform. When other men in uniform started coming to the house, I’d run to the door, waiting to see if my father was among them. The last time they came, Mom gathered us together and told us our father wasn’t coming back. She didn’t say he was dead, but we assumed that he was.

My mother, Margaret Banks, was not just beautiful, she was stunningly so. Her deep brown eyes sparkled when she laughed. She didn’t laugh often, but when she did, she let out a laugh that was not only irresistible, it was contagious. Her lips were perfect; not too full, but not too thin either. She had the high cheekbones of her native American ancestors. Her skin was the color of honey, smooth and flawless. Her hair, jet black and very long, was kept in a topknot most of the time. Her body was firm and shapely from all the hard work she did, but at the same time, she was soft and feminine.

Mom and Granddaddy took care of our little farm. Our neighbor and friend, Earl Jamison, stopped by from time to time. Earl was a quiet man, with a complexion so light that anyone who didn’t know him, believed he was white. Because he never married, a lot of people thought something was wrong with him. He lived alone in a house as old as ours. While he didn’t talk much, he was a very kind and generous man. Earl was the only person within a mile who had a vehicle. He would take Mom into town whenever she needed to go.

As children, we helped with chores as best we could, but they did the hard work. In the spring, Granddaddy plowed the fields and Mom planted the gardens. As vegetables and fruit ripened, they were canned or preserved to ensure food for the winter. Money for seeds, plants, farm equipment, chickens, pigs, the cow, and other necessities such as material to make our clothes, came from wages Grand-daddy made when he worked on other farms around the county.

Our grandmother died of cancer before I was born. The only picture of her was a wedding picture, which hung on the wall in the front room. She wasn’t smiling. I wondered why she had been so sad on her wedding day. She was a beautiful woman of Mattaponi and African descent. The Mattaponi is one of the Native American tribes that still live on a reservation in the state of Virginia. She had given birth to two other girls who died shortly after birth. Mom was her only surviving child. As I grew older, I thought how wonderful it was that her beautiful face would remain impervious to the ravages of age.

Every now and again someone would stop by to set a spell before going further around the road, but for the most part it was just us. Not too many people had cars, and those who did, used them to go back and forth to work. Once they got home, it was usually dinner time. There wasn’t much time for visiting.

We didn’t have much and life was tough, but despite this, we were happy. We worked hard and stuck together, handling whatever came our way. That is, until Mom married Dan. When he came into our lives, everything changed. Little did Mom know that what he had to offer was more than just electricity and indoor plumbing. He also offered a lot of pain and misery.

CHAPTER 2

Granddaddy died of consumption when I was six years old. It was my first funeral, and I didn’t like it. The church was about a mile around the road from the house. Most Sunday mornings we walked to church. If someone passed us on the road, they would stop and give us a ride, but most of the time we walked. The day of the funeral, Earl took us in his truck. Mom rode in the cab and we rode in the back, in our white dresses with their puffed sleeves, and ties that formed a large bow in the back. It hadn’t rained for a while and the dust on the road, kicked up by the truck tires, covered us. By the time we got to the church, our hair was wind blown and our faces gritty from the dust.

It was hot inside the church. Fans, hanging from the ceiling, circulated the hot air. Everyone was using hand-held fans provided by the funeral parlor. We fidgeted and Mom had to tell us to sit still more than once. When the service was over, we were the first to leave the church, walking behind the casket.

The cemetery was on the same grounds as the church. Little tombstones, of different shapes and sizes, dotted the graveyard. While Mom was at the burial site, we slipped away to the basement of the church where food was being prepared. It was cool there and we were hungry. The women of the church did the cooking and served the food. Soon, everyone had gathered in the basement for ham, macaroni and cheese, rolls, collard greens, fried chicken, potato salad, corn on the cob, pies, cakes, and homemade ice cream.

We sat on the basement steps waiting for Mom, who was busy talking to everyone. People would walk by, place their hands on our heads and smile as they walked away. My stomach was beginning to ache from eating too much ice cream. I wanted to go home. Finally, we saw her making her way through the crowd.

Okay girls, she said. Let’s go. Summer, did you go to the bathroom?

Before I could respond, Mrs. Hawkins, a rather large woman, with a butt so large a plate could sit on it and not fall off, grabbed Mom’s arm. It was a large gloved hand. The other hand clutched an old black leather handbag with a broken strap.

Margaret, she said, I’m so sorry about your father. We’re going to miss him. He worked so diligently in the church, and was such a gentleman. Mom nodded as Mrs. Hawkins went on about her father. If you or the girls need anything, you will let me know. As she talked, I pulled on Mom’s dress, wanting to tell her that my stomach hurt.

Mom said, Of course I will. Thank you very much. I appreciate it. Girls, say goodbye to Mrs. Hawkins.

Bye, Mrs. Hawkins, we said in unison, as we started up the stairs to the church vestibule. When we reached the landing, a very tall, almond-skinned man with a head full of black and white hair, blocked our way. We had seen him in the pew directly across from us during the service. He looked like our grandfather.

Excuse me, he said. I’m George…, your father’s brother. I’d like to talk to you if I could. Mom narrowed her eyes and waited. I know you don’t know me, he continued, holding out his hand. Reluctantly, she shook his hand. I’ve always wanted to meet my brother’s family but it’s been difficult for me to get down from Philadelphia.

Curtly, Mom replied, I’m sure, but I’m glad you were able to make it this time. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get the children home. As she placed her hand on my back, she gave me a slight push. I proceeded to walk past George. Megan and Shirley followed.

Quickly, he stepped aside. I’ll follow you…if that’s all right?

Mom didn’t respond. Arriving home, we jumped out of the truck, said goodbye to Earl, and ran across the yard, which was overcome with weeds.

When Granddaddy became ill, Mom was so busy taking care of him, she didn’t have time for much of anything else. Earl helped as much as he could, but he worked every day until late in the evening.

Mom yelled, Girls, go upstairs and get out of your clothes. I want you to take a nap. I’ll call you when it’s time for dinner.

We weren’t tired, but we went upstairs anyway. When Mom told us to do something, we usually did it whether we wanted to or not. Only we didn’t lay down. We stood at the window, wanting to hear what was being said.

Margaret, George said, I don’t know if you know this or not, but I’m a part owner of this property. There was silence. While my brother lived here, well, I didn’t want to do anything, but now. He hesitated. If you want, you can buy me out. I’m not asking you to move. I just want what’s rightfully mine.

Mom sounded surprisingly calm. George, I’m sure you know from the looks of things around here that I have no money. If you didn’t know it before, you know now that I have three children. Where do you expect me to get money to buy you out?

Well, I’m sorry, but I guess you’ll have to sell. You can stay here until the place is sold, if you want. With your share, you can move somewhere else. I don’t know what to tell you. I just want what’s mine. I’ll give you as much time as you need, but I would like to get this done as soon as possible.

Yes, I’m sure you would, she said.

We heard the door close. He lingered on the porch for a few moments before walking back across the yard to his car. The cats followed him out of the yard, and sat just inside the gate, as if to protect our home. When he drove off, they came back upon the porch.

According to the deed, my great-grandfather purchased five acres of land in 1859 for fifty dollars. The five acres were now worth five hundred. Mom knew she couldn’t raise the money, so she called George. A month passed with no word. Two months later a letter came. Getting mail was exciting. We always stood around her, wanting to see what she got. As she read the only letter that came that day, a look of shock, then relief, passed across her face. When she finished reading the letter, she folded it and put it in the pocket of her apron. She patted the pocket, and went inside the house. I never knew what the letter said, but rumor had it that when he returned home late one evening, someone was waiting for him. He was found days later, murdered, sitting in front of the television, which was still on. Since there were no other living relatives, Mom took her father’s proof of death to the courthouse where she was given a clear title to the property.

Without Granddaddy, and just a little help from Earl, Mom did it all. Before daybreak, she would get up, start the fire in the wood-burning stove, feed the chickens and hogs, gather eggs, and milk the cow. Once that was done, she cooked breakfast, which usually consisted of oatmeal and biscuits, saying it would stick to our ribs. The rest of the day was spent cleaning an already immaculate house, working the gardens, ironing or washing clothes. In the heat of the day, perspiration would stream down her face as she took white sheets out of boiling water in the black iron pot she used to wash clothes. After scrubbing them on the scrub board, they were rinsed and hung on the line to dry. We helped by sweeping the floors, washing dishes, fetching water and making our beds. After all the chores were done, she fixed supper. With supper over, she worked on making quilts by kerosene light, which she sold to make ends meet, or she would make or mend our clothes, using an old Singer sewing machine. Late at night, we could hear the turning of the balance wheel and the humming of the treadle.

Earl helped her with the planting in the spring. In the fall, he slaughtered a hog to cure in the smokehouse. The rest were taken to market. That’s where Mom met Dan. Once Dan started coming around, the cats left. Earl stopped coming to the house, shortly thereafter.

CHAPTER 3

Dan was a bit on the stout side. His skin was the color of deep chocolate. He wasn’t particularly good looking, but he had a nice smile. He smoked, but his teeth were perfect and white. Other than that, he was rather nondescript. The first time we met him was at the county fair. While Mom talked to friends, she allowed us to go off by ourselves as long as we stayed together. When we returned, her friends had left. She didn’t notice us at first. She was laughing and talking with Dan. She introduced us to him, and while he tried to be warm and friendly, there was something about him I didn’t like. All of a sudden, I wanted to go home. After a few minutes of small talk, she told him goodbye, and we proceeded to walk around the fair grounds, looking for Earl, who having brought us, was waiting to take us home.

It wasn’t long before Dan started coming to the house. Each time he came, he would give us a silver dollar. While I liked the dollar, I didn’t like him. Megan and Shirley didn’t like him either, but they were curious and spent time talking to him. I kept my distance, watching as he pretended to show interest in what they said. He would smile and nod, while at the same time, look in the direction of the stairs, desperately waiting for Mom to appear. As soon as she came into the room, he would stop talking, jump up, and usher her out the front door. We’d watch as they drove off in his shiny, black Buick. In the beginning, I was afraid he wouldn’t bring her back. As time went by, he stayed longer, helping Mom with things around the farm. By the end of the first year, he was at the house almost every day, and stayed long after dinner was finished. For the most part, he was pleasant and Mom seemed happier.

Dan had not visited Mom for a few days. On the second night, when he didn’t come, I secretly hoped that he was gone for good. It was chilly and Mom made a fire in the fireplace. She spent a lot of time stoking the fire before taking her place at the dinner table. We had been busy laughing and talking and hadn’t noticed how quiet Mom had become. When she pushed her plate aside, and rested her chin on her clasped hands, I knew she was about to talk to us about something. She always did that when she going to tell us something she didn’t think we wanted to hear.

Girls, I need to talk to you. She paused. Choosing her words carefully, she said, You know it’s been a long time since your grandfather died.

Yeah? Megan said, picking at the food on her plate.

And stop saying ‘yeah’. It’s ‘yes’.

The way we spoke was important to her. She didn’t have a southern twang, which was common to a lot of people in Virginia, and didn’t want her children to have it either.

I know it hasn’t been easy for you, going to school and trying to help with the work around here. Looking from one of us to the other, she said, It hasn’t been easy for me either. The quietness hung in the air. Sighing heavily, she continued, Whether you know it or not, you’ll be gone soon. Megan? In just a few years, you’ll be off to college. I wish I could wait until all of you left…I guess there’s no easy way to say this. She got up from the table, walked behind the chair and stood, gripping the back of it. You seem to like Dan well enough. We didn’t speak. We looked at her, wide eyed, waiting in anticipation for what she was going to say next. Mom breathed deeply. Dan asked me to marry him. Once again she hesitated. I told him I would have to talk to you first.

The look of shock on Megan and Shirley’s faces was unmistakable. I thought I was going to throw up. We knew she was hoping we would be happy about it, or at least accepting. We were neither, but did we have the right to deny her?

I know there’ll be an adjustment, Mom quickly stated. I want you to understand that my decision was not made casually. Trying to sound upbeat, she exclaimed, He’s a good man and he really likes you guys. When we didn’t respond, she rubbed the back of her neck and took another deep breath. Girls, I am so tired. I just can’t do it any more. Her eyes begged for our understanding if not our approval. As much as we hated the thought of Dan moving into our home, we knew if Mom stayed on the farm, which she intended to do, she would be alone once we left.

Mom, Shirley inquired, do you love him?

I like him, Mom replied. I don’t think I could ever love anyone except your father. But, it’ll be good having someone around to help out. Again, she waited. I won’t do anything until you girls are okay with it. How’s that? She moved from behind the chair and sat down, clasping her hands under her chin.

Mom? I asked.

Yes, Summer. What is it?

Will he try to be our father?

No, she said, shaking her head. Of course not. Nothing is going to change. I know it’ll be strange for a while, having a man in the house, but you’ll hardly know that he’s here.

Why? Megan asked.

Well, he’ll be at work during the day. Of course, we will all sit down to dinner. When you get up in the morning, he will have already left for work. So the only time you’ll be around each other, for the most part, is during dinner. All I ask is that you give him a chance. I know you’re concerned, but everything will work out. She reached over and touched Megan’s arm at the same time looking from me to Shirley.

We knew she was apprehensive. We could hear it in her voice. I didn’t know how to express my feelings of doubt and fear because I didn’t know why I had them. Megan and Shirley didn’t say much as we cleared the table and washed the dishes. When Mom left the room, I moved closer to Megan.

Do you want her to marry him? I inquired.

I don’t think we can do anything about it, Summer. She wants us to tell her that it’s okay and I don’t think we can tell her no. She took a plate out of the dishpan and handed it to Shirley, to dry.

Tears ran down my cheeks as I walked out of the kitchen. My world was going to change and I didn’t have any control over it. While we lay in bed, Megan tried to reassure me that everything was going to be all