Thunder's Shadow: In the Shadow of the Cedar, #3

By Sheila Hollinghead

 The blissful start of a new life is shattered by the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

Sarah Jane's husband is away training for war. She returns home and accepts the position of veterinarian's assistant. Life becomes bearable.

That is, until her husband's old girlfriend moves next door, now pregnant.

Friends and family give her the courage to discover and face the truth.

Yet the challenges are more than she can bear unless she finds strength ... in the shadow of the cedar.

In the Shadow of the Cedar shares the struggles, passions, and trials of America's greatest generation. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sheila Hollinghead
• Release date: Oct 2, 2017
• ISBN: 9798201960117

Book preview

Foreword

In the Shadow of the Cedar tells a fictionalized story of my grandmother, mother, aunts, and uncles. Even though it describes many events that actually occurred, the event may not have happened directly to them. For example, the rooster in the wagon happened to my uncle, not my grandfather. Also, the personalities each has are not indicative of the person’s actual personality.  My grandmother was kind and caring throughout her life and loved deeply by her family. It suffices to say that the mother is not.

The books also tell of several South Alabama towns that exist. However, both the unfolding of the events and the descriptions of the towns are flavored with artistic license.

This is not a history or geography book although I attempted to remain true to the times and places whenever possible. This is a work of fiction that tells a story, one that I lived, if only in my imagination.

Dedication

To my readers:

May you always find rest

in the shadow of the cedar.

Thus saith the Lord God ; I will also take of the highest branch of the high cedar, and will set it; I will crop off from the top of his young twigs a tender one, and will plant it upon an high mountain and eminent:

In the mountain of the height of Israel will I plant it: and it shall bring forth boughs, and bear fruit, and be a goodly cedar: and under it shall dwell all fowl of every wing; in the shadow of the branches thereof shall they dwell.

And all the trees of the field shall know that I the Lord have brought down the high tree, have exalted the low tree, have dried up the green tree, and have made the dry tree to flourish: I the Lord have spoken and have done it (Ezekiel 17:22-24 KJV).

Chapter 1—War

Cold and damp seeped through the cracks in the walls, settling into my very bones. I scooted my chair closer to Michael. His dark head was bowed as I reached blindly for the warmth of his hand. I found only coolness. Uncle Howard and Aunt Liza were in rockers on either side of the upright radio, and my cousin William, his sandy brown hair sticking up in all directions, was on the couch. The two-toned wood of the radio gleamed from Aunt Liza’s constant polishing. The round dial, so much like a giant eye, mesmerized me. I released Michael’s hand, and my fingers clutched the chair’s rails.

The Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. The radio announcer continued, repeating the words, and I shook my head, trying to make sense of it all.

The slatted walls of the room, the wooden veneer of the radio, the static-filled voice... all exuded coldness. Michael’s face was a frozen mask; his dark eyes lifeless.

Uncle Howard rubbed the balding spot on his head and glanced at Michael and then at William, worry lines forming on his otherwise smooth face. But he remained silent. The radio went back to the regular programming, and my uncle leaned forward, huffing a little, to click the protruding knob, cutting off the mundane words, meaningless to us now.

Uncle Howard continued leaning forward, as far as his rounded belly would allow, and propped his elbows on his knees and clasped his leathery hands together. Aunt Liza rocked back and forth, tears silently running down her cheeks and mumbled under her breath. Uncle Howard shushed her, but she ignored him, repeating the sounds over and over.

The words she muttered sounded familiar. What are you saying, Aunt Liza? I asked.

She looked up at me with glazed eyes. Uktena, she said, whether in answer or still chanting, I didn’t know.

William stirred on the couch, running his palms over his hair, smoothing it back in place. Is that an Indian word? His hazel eyes, clear as always, studied my aunt calmly.

Her face flushed, and her own eyes regained clarity as she focused on her brother’s child. Yes. Uktena are the horned snakes of legends. The dragons in Japanese culture always reminded me of them.

I slid off my chair and knelt beside her, peering up into the face people told me mirrored my own. Her long hair, as dark as black coffee, with only a few stripes of gray,  had been braided and coiled around her head, much like a headband.

She wiped her face with her apron and smiled sadly when I took her age-spotted hand in both of mine. Her long, dark lashes blinked back the tears in her eyes.

Will you tell us the legend? I asked, hoping it would take our minds off the terrible tragedy. I glanced over my shoulder at Michael who had slumped over. His hands were gripped together, his knuckles whitening. He did not raise his head, or even indicate he had heard us. William, however, leaned forward, and nodded.

I turned my attention back to Aunt Liza and stroked her weathered hand, the only indication of her age. She attempted another smile, and even such a tentative smile accentuated her high cheekbones.

Sure, honey. The Red Man, one of the Thunder Beings...

Thunder Beings? I interrupted.

Yes, there are four, according to legend. The Red Man is one of them, the one lightning obeys.

I nodded. I think I’ve heard the story before. It’s one Poppa told Zeke and me, but it’s been so long ago, I don’t remember much.

William nodded. Pop told Laurie and me the stories of the Thunder Beings.

I missed William’s father, who was my mother and Aunt Liza’s brother. William and I were double cousins. His mother, my Aunt Jenny, was Poppa’s sister. Uncle Colt, Aunt Jenny, and their daughter, Laurie, had planned to come for my wedding, along with Michael’s father and his uncle. We had planned a Christmas wedding, but with the bombing of Pearl Harbor, I didn’t know how our plans might now change. Before tears could begin to form, I wrenched my thoughts back to my aunt.

I never get tired of the stories, I said, giving William a look.

He took the hint. Me, either. Please tell us, Aunt Liza.

An emotion I couldn’t name flickered across her face, the face so much like the picture of my mother, the mother I had never known, that tears came to my eyes.

For a moment, it looked as if Aunt Liza wouldn’t speak, but then she cleared her throat and began. The story tells of a hunter who went with his brother to the mountains. This hunter left his brother at camp and continued on, to hunt for a deer. When he heard a great commotion, he ran to investigate. A terrible struggle came into view — the Uktena and the Red Man in a death grip. But the hunter, being a great marksman, saved him... Her voice trailed off, and her head dipped. Then she looked around at all of us, her bluish-green eyes shiny with tears. The Uktena can only be destroyed if the aim is true and straight to the heart. The heart lies beneath the seventh spot from the Uktena’s head, making them almost impossible to kill.

True and straight to the heart, I repeated. I released my aunt’s hand and climbed to my feet.

Michael had let his head rest in one palm, and he studied the stained linoleum as if it held answers. He slowly lifted his eyes, making contact with mine. His eyes darkened to black, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. With a visible effort, he pulled his gaze away and stood.

I’ve got to go.

Where? Fear clutched my throat. For a second, I envisioned him hitching a ride to the war — to fight the Japanese. My jumbled thoughts saw him rescue the Red Man, the Thunder Being, from the clutches of the Uktena. I blinked my way back to reality and let out a straggled sigh.

Michael was studying my face, his brow furrowed, but his words were commonplace, grounding me. I need to get home. It’s getting late.

He started toward the door without another word, not even saying goodbye to Uncle Howard, Aunt Liza, or William.

I grabbed a sweater and followed him out. The chilly wind made me wish I had grabbed a coat instead. I pulled the sweater tighter, wrapping my arms around myself. Michael stepped on the running board to climb into his truck, not seeming to notice I was there.

I reached my hand out toward him. Michael...

He hesitated, his hand still on the truck door. What? His voice held an edge of irritation.

Softening my tone, I asked, What are you doing?

I told you — I’m heading back to the dorm.

I bit my bottom lip, peering at him from beneath my lashes. Do I get a kiss goodbye?

Jay... He looked at me with infinite sadness, his eyes so dark they were impenetrable. After a long moment, he wrenched his gaze away. I’m sorry.

I wasn’t sure what he was sorry about. Not kissing me goodbye? Leaving without speaking? The attack on Pearl Harbor?

I nodded my head as if I understood. Goodbye. See you tomorrow?

Tomorrow, I’m joining the Marines. I’d go today if it wasn’t Sunday.

Pride constricted my heart. We had to do something — we couldn’t stand idly by while our country was attacked, while Americans were killed. I nodded my head although a thrill of fear ran through me. I understand, Michael. And I want you to go... we have to defend ourselves.

Relief flooded his face. I hoped you would say that. I should have known you’d understand. He climbed down from the truck, drew me close, and held me.

I was glad of his warmth and his familiar smell of lye soap that never quite eradicated the scents I loved so — the smell of hay, leather, and horses. It had permeated his clothes, perhaps even his very skin. I breathed in the comfort, longing for the days when Poppa was alive, aching for my old life on the farm. The troubles had faded away with time, leaving only memories of the happy moments, and my heart had yearned to make new ones, back home on the farm, with Michael. Now, the future loomed before us with uncertainty.

I peered up at Michael’s determined face. His gaze held an unfamiliar fierceness, so fierce I had to turn from his penetrating look. You will take your finals? I mumbled into his shoulder.

Sure. I’ll check with the recruiting officer. I’m certain I won’t have to leave for a couple of weeks.

We were supposed to get married at Christmas... My throat constricted. If we married earlier than we’d planned, we’d have at least a few days together before he left. But I couldn’t get the words past the lump in my throat.

He tilted my chin until my eyes met his. Jay, don’t you think we need to wait?

Wait?

Our plans, our hopes will have to be put on hold.

I nodded, but a streak of anger shot through me. At Michael or at God, I wasn’t sure.

My breath hitched, but the anger enabled me to force the words out I had wanted to say. We can marry as soon as possible. I want to be your wife... however long God grants us.

The memory of the day we had visited Paul, Michael’s friend, came to me. That day Paul’s grandmother... no, it’d been his great grandmother... had said Michael would travel over the ocean — unbelievable at the time, but now her prophecy was coming true. But... it had been three years ago, and I didn’t remember her exact words... something about Michael returning broken — broken, but she had said he would return to me.

He kissed my forehead and pulled my head to his shoulder, interrupting my thoughts. We need to think about this. I’m not sure if this is the right time to marry.

I stiffened, and he pushed me gently away. You’d better get back in. It’s turning colder.

See you tomorrow? I asked again.

Sure. I’ll see you at school after I go to the recruiting office. His words were calm enough, but his eyes steadily avoided mine. He climbed back into his old red truck. Rust was eating away the finish, but I loved it. It was part of Michael. This time, he slammed the door before I had a chance to say another word.

I watched him drive away. Coby, the Australian shepherd Michael had given me, came up, whined, and nudged my hand, wanting a pat. I mindlessly obliged before I went back in.

Michael gone? Aunt Liza asked.

Yes, ma’am.

Aunt Liza and Uncle Howard exchanged a glance when I flopped down on the couch. Neither spoke. Aunt Liza’s head bent over her mending, and Uncle Howard occasionally turned a page of his farming magazine. I soon got up and went into the kitchen, looking for leftovers. William was there ahead of me, eating a piece of fried chicken. Two years ago, he had moved here to attend Auburn — or Alabama Polytechnic Institute to give the school its proper name — majoring in agricultural science. Uncle Howard had cleaned his shop out for his nephew, fixing it up as a small apartment.

Propped against the edge of the sink, William nibbled on a chicken leg, his face calm and composed, although his ever-changing eyes were thoughtful. I sat down and propped my elbows on the kitchen table and smoothed out wrinkles in the oil cloth. The longer the events of the day played in my mind, the sicker I felt. I decided I wasn’t hungry after all.

William threw the bones away and washed the grease from his hands.

Goodnight, I said, without looking at him.

Blue Jay, are you all right?

My heart squeezed teardrops to my eyes, hearing the nickname Poppa had given me so long ago. How I wished he was here now! But at least I had people who loved me — I’d be all right.

I wiped the tears away and nodded. Fine.

And Michael?

I shrugged my shoulders and looked into William’s face, deciding to confide in him. Michael wants to postpone our wedding.

He leaned back against the old, yellowing sink and stuck his hands in his pockets. That’s understandable.

It is?

Our country has just been thrown into turmoil. Michael is trying to figure out what to do...

He’s already decided. He’s joining the Marines.

William nodded. Good for him. He walked over to me and laid a hand on my shoulder. Michael needs your support. It’s tough to leave your home, the people you love... And you know, Jay, there might be... umm... consequences if you married...

Consequences? Heat rose to my cheeks as I realized what William meant. Pregnancy. If Michael left, it might make it tougher on him — no, not might. It would make it more difficult for him to leave... but pregnancy could be prevented.

My cheeks burned hotter. I couldn’t talk to William or Michael about that. I stood quickly, and William took a step back, away from me.

Goodnight, I said, without making eye contact. I hurried out and went to my room. I changed into my gown and slid under the covers, but sleep wouldn’t come.

The events of the day kept playing and replaying in my mind. So much tragedy! And Michael wanting to delay our wedding! Our future was unknown... but wasn’t that always the case? We just had to trust God. My heart broke, thinking of Michael leaving me and not knowing for how long.

And it ached for all those who had died at Pearl Harbor and for their families. War was imminent. How could I sleep?

The dawn broke and found me awake with my thoughts.

Chapter 2—Torture

Ihad made a decision during that long, restless night. I wouldn’t say another word about getting married. I’d let Michael figure things out. He needed time to sort through all he was feeling without pressure from me. I hoped — prayed — his decision would be to marry before he shipped out.

If the United States went to war, as everyone said was now inevitable, surely it wouldn’t last long. Even if we didn’t marry, Michael would come back, in a year or so, and then we would marry. We were young; we had plenty of time.

I had to hold on to the words of the old woman. She had said he would travel over the ocean but would come back, and we would have children together. But a worry kept flitting around my head — the worry that the old lady had been wrong, and I’d never see Michael again.

And how did the old woman predict the future? Didn’t the Bible warn against such things? If it came from the devil, how could it be something I could trust?

The old woman had given me the creeps. Yet, she hadn’t seemed evil, had she? Creepy, but not evil. Yet evil often came disguised, my preacher had said.

I sighed. I just didn’t know. But it didn’t matter. Whether we married or not, Michael was leaving — for how long, I had no idea. To bear up, for even a day, seemed impossible. Perhaps I could join up, too. But there was no guarantee we would see each other, was there? He’d go one way and me another. We’d still be apart and far from home. I wanted to stay here, among the people I knew — my family and friends. Besides there was my little brother, Zeke. I never knew when Momma might have another breakdown, and he might need me. I couldn’t leave — not now.

I shook my head and had to make a mad dash for the bus after being so caught up in my musings. I slid onto the cool leather seat, accidentally bumping into the person beside me. I apologized and shifted my body away, not wanting to talk further. The bus was filled with excited chatter, everyone giving their opinion on the impending war. But my thoughts concentrated on Michael, ignoring the stuffiness of the bus, packed full, more so than usual. Perhaps some of them were going to enlist today, like Michael.

In a matter of days, Michael and I would be graduating from Auburn with degrees in Veterinary Science. I would be one of the first female graduates to become a veterinarian and had taken a heavier load each semester in order to graduate early, in the middle of the school year. Somehow I had managed straight As. With the extra work and our jobs, Michael and I had had very little time together for the past three years — except for studying together. We had wanted to begin our lives together as soon as possible and had worked hard to do so.

Before then, Michael had been on the verge of flunking out. Working together, we had helped each other, encouraging one another to do our best. And now Michael would graduate almost at the top of his class, if he aced his finals, and that seemed likely. Who would have thought so three years ago?

We had planned, after we married, to move back home, open a veterinary clinic together and buy back Poppa’s farm.  Now, our dreams had been dashed — all of that extra work for what? I could have taken a normal load. We could have spent more time together, maybe even married, if we had only known.

With our plans now postponed, unless Michael changed his mind, I’d have to stay on with Aunt Liza and Uncle Howard, maybe get on full time at Buck’s General Store. I could check with the veterinarians in the area — but what chance did a woman have of getting hired for a man’s job? Still, with all the guys enlisting, it might be worth a shot. I shook the thoughts from my head, knowing I’d have plenty of time to decide.

The bus pulled to a stop, and I joined the rest of the people exiting. I continued on to my lab class, to the building at the top of the hill. I was one of only three women in Animal Physiology. When I entered the classroom, the nineteen male members were huddled together, talking animatedly, many of them smiling, until the professor entered. The women were already seated, and their faces were subdued, as I was sure mine was.

Today we were to observe the anatomy of turtles. The other three people at my assigned table were guys. I sat down and opened my notebook to a clean page and copied the information from the blackboard as the professor called the class to order.

I couldn’t focus, my mind still on Michael. For a moment, my anger turned to God. Why had he allowed this war and the bombing of Pearl Harbor? But it wasn’t God’s fault but evil men’s choices — particularly that one man, Hitler. His fanaticism was legendary. Yet, God was all powerful. Somehow, he could have prevented that man from coming to power, if he had chosen to do so. And he could have created a storm to turn back the Japanese, before they had a chance to bomb our men. Why hadn’t he?

God’s ways were simply beyond my understanding. I pushed back a strand of hair that had come loose from my braid and tried to concentrate on the professor’s voice.

The middle-age professor, his dark hair grayed at the temples, looked around at the tables. I need a volunteer from each group to administer the anesthetic to the turtle. Any volunteers?

My hand shot up. I wanted to get my mind on something else, something besides the war and Michael.

Sarah Hunter for group two. Anyone else? If not, I will assign someone in each group.

I glanced around. Strange that no one else was volunteering. One of the boys, his hair slicked back, snickered. I stared at him. The smell from the Brylcreem made my nose wrinkle. The other two guys were grinning at me as well. What was going on? Had I missed something? Did I have a smudge on my face?

The professor walked toward me with small medical hammers in his hand. When he handed me one, I stared at it blankly.

I leaned closer to one of the guys and whispered. What am I supposed to do with this?

He stifled a laugh behind his hand. That’s how you administer the general anesthetic. You hit the turtle in the head. Laughter leaked out, and the professor, who was moving