Before the Storms Come

By Darrell Hardcastle

When life knocks you to the ground, how will you respond? Will the tumult be too much to overcome or will you rise to continue the fight? ‘Before the Storms Come’ tells the story of young, James Kelly, and the revelation of his true character, when his life is turned upside down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Dec 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664249202

Darrell Hardcastle

‘Before the Storms Come’ is a prequel to Darrell Hardcastle’s first book, ‘When it Rains’. Coach Hardcastle has been Teaching, Coaching and Mentoring for 42 years. He and his wife, Donna, have 3 married adult children and 10 grandchildren, and currently live in Texas.’’

Book preview

1

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T he sticky summer heat in the Mississippi Delta was relentless. James Kelly tossed his baseball equipment into the back of his father’s ‘69 Ford and jumped into the cab. The burgundy beauty had chromed-rimmed wide tires with baby moons. The F100 was the first new vehicle Floyd had ever purchased and was his pride and joy. James watched his father lift his injured right leg onto the bench seat to get in. Floyd started the engine, revealing the glass pack mufflers he had recently installed.

I love that rumbling sound, Dad.

Well, you will be fourteen soon, so I would say it’s the testosterone flowing, teased his thirty-four-year-old father. Floyd put the truck in first gear and pulled away from the ball diamond. Well, hotshot, you had another great season. Next year, you will be playing for the Clarksdale Wildcats.

Thanks for coaching me, Dad. Will you coach me next summer?

Jimmy, I think it is time someone else took over that responsibility. You are a good player, and I want you to get whatever you get on your own.

I never thought you treated me any different from the other players.

I tried not to, Son, but some people think that it’s just natural for a father to play favorites. It’s called nepotism. Besides, I have taught you all I know. Phil Walker coaches the older boys, and his son is playing in college.

But, Dad, the St. Louis Cardinals offered you a minor league contract. How could you not know as much baseball as Coach Walker? argued James.

I was a good player, Jimmy, but Phil knows all aspects of the game better than I do. He was an assistant at Delta State for several years before he got married. Floyd patted James on the knee. Besides, I wanted to join the military and marry your mom more than I wanted to play ball.

Do you ever regret joining the military? Floyd made eye contact with his son. Mom told me your helicopter was hit when you were trying to rescue another crew in Vietnam. She said you were shot in the knee and had to get out of the army.

That did happen, son. Floyd pulled the truck into a gas station and turned off the engine. To answer your question, no, I don’t regret joining the army. I considered it a privilege to serve my country. I got your mother and you out of the deal, so I would say the bum knee was worth it. Come on. Let’s get us a bottle of pop.

The Kelly boys found some shade on the East end of the building and sat down on a couple of milk crates. The lyrical cicadas provided background noise for the two while they enjoyed their refreshment.

Dad, is that purple heart in the den, with those other medals and ribbons, because of your knee?

Yes, it is.

How come you don’t talk about the war very much?

Some of the memories are not worth talking about; so I just choose to let the past be the past.

But you said that you don’t regret joining, said the perplexed youngster.

Oh, I don’t, Jimmy. It’s all part of God’s plan for my life. Not playing baseball, joining the army, marrying my sweetheart, having you, going to Vietnam, getting shot down. It’s all part of the plan.

James scratched his head. But some of that isn’t good. How can something bad be part of God’s plan?

Floyd took a drink of his cola and smiled at his confused son. Have you ever noticed that when it rains, everyone gets wet?

James thought for a short moment and responded, Yes, sir.

Good people, bad people, people who know Jesus, and people who don’t. Everyone gets wet. You see, Jimmy, no one is exempt from adversity. Even people who love the Lord have bad things happen in their lives. How we handle adverse situations makes us who we are and who we will become. Our job is to honor Him in our response, and trust that, somehow, good will come out of the circumstance.

But why does God let bad things happen to good people? asked James sincerely.

All I can figure is that this is a fallen world, and we live in it. Therefore, bad things are bound to happen. That is why it is so important to build a foundation of trust and hope in the Lord before the rains come.

After several moments, the younger Kelly broke the silence. It sounds like last week when we had to hurry to finish shingling the shop roof because you said a storm was coming.

OK, replied Floyd, evaluating his son’s thought process. Did the storm come?

Yes, sir. And it was a bad one, Jimmy quickly added.

Did the roof leak?

No, sir. James’s face brightened. So, the foundation was strong enough to handle the storm, exclaimed the boy, as if he had solved a puzzle.

Sounds like an interesting conversation, said the burly man who was approaching.

Afternoon, Doug, said Floyd as he grasped the large man’s hand.

Hello, Mr. Haro, greeted James.

I saw your truck out front and figured you would be back here getting out of the sun. Doug turned toward Jimmy. Your father is a wise man, Son. He’s worth listening to. Haro then turned to Floyd, When are you going to sell me that truck of yours, Kelly?

Doug, you know I’m not going to sell her.

Well, if you do decide to sell, please give me first crack at it.

Doug, my man, if I do sell this truck, I would be proud for you to add it to your collection.

Sounds good, said the owner of Haro Road Construction as he returned to his vehicle.

Mr. Haro is a nice man, said James.

He’s one of the finest I know.

After leaving the station, Floyd parked on Highway 49 where several people were standing on the side of the road. Exiting the vehicle, the Kellys joined the bystanders. A fire truck and several police cars headed toward them, with a long line of vehicles following. This is the funeral procession for Garrett Patterson, son. After the war, he became a fireman here in Clarksdale. He died last week, saving a toddler from the second story of the child’s burning home. The roof collapsed, and a beam struck Patterson on the back of the head. Another fireman dragged him out and found the child safe in Garrett’s arms. The coroner believes the blow to the head killed him instantly.

Did you know him, Dad?

I never met him. He lived in Clove Hill, and we didn’t cross paths.

As the fire truck and police cars passed, Floyd stood in silent attention. James emulated his father. As the hearse passed, the ex-soldier saluted. When he relaxed, James asked, Why did you salute the hearse, Dad?

Garrett Patterson was twice a hero, Son. He deserves our respect and appreciation. Saluting him on his final journey was the least I could do.

Twenty minutes later, the Kelly boys entered their quaint three-bedroom home with a wraparound porch. What’s cooking, good looking? teased Floyd as he embraced his bride of fourteen years.

Meatloaf, potatoes and gravy, okra, and corn. Your favorite, if my memory serves me correctly.

Floyd kissed Ellie. Darling, you know your man.

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Jimmy, go get two ripe tomatoes out of the garden for me, please, said Ellie. As their only child ran out the door, she commented, Oh, I wish we could have more children. That boy is a treasure.

Floyd wrapped his arms around his wife. Her moist eyes revealed the occasional melancholy she had endured since her hysterectomy nearly ten years earlier. You remember what the doctor said after your second miscarriage, don’t you?

She nodded and whispered, The fact that I was able to carry James to term was nothing less than a miracle.

Does he know? asked Floyd, trying to change the subject.

No, I thought we could tell him at dinner, responded Ellie, drying her tears with the bottom of her apron.

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After hearing of the surprise during dinner, the thirteen-year-old shouted, Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk? That’s awesome! When are we leaving?

I have to finish Mr. Daniels’ car tonight so we can leave early in the morning. Jimmy, after I put the bumper back on, you can wash and detail. We don’t want Kenneth to think Floyd’s Body Shop is second-rate, do we?

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The Kelly family pulled out of Memphis International and headed home to Clarksdale after spending five days on their first family vacation, away from Mississippi. Well, Jimmy, what is your favorite memory of the trip? asked Ellie.

The boardwalk was a blast. I loved the food on the wharf. The Mystery Spot was really cool. Bodysurfing in the Pacific was fun but cold. My first plane ride was awesome. Now I know what it feels like to be a bird. I loved it all, Mom. Thanks for taking me.

Your father planned and saved for this trip for two years.

I think we can pull off Disney World in Orlando next year, added Floyd. Would you like that, Jimmy Boy?

Woo hoo, I can’t wait! shouted James, bringing satisfied smiles to his parents’ faces.

An hour later, Floyd pulled into the Kellys’ modest home on Sharkey Street. His body shop in the back had been opened after his return from Vietnam, using the skills he’d learned from his father. Son, would you please get the luggage and put it in the house. I have to lie down; I’ve got a splitting headache.

Too much fun for a workaholic, sweetheart?

I guess I’m a homebody. I do feel more comfortable in the shop, admitted Floyd.

2

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"H ey, hotshot, I want you to wash and wax the Ford."

But, Dad, it’s my birthday.

Floyd approached James, wiping his hands on a red garage rag. I would think that you would want to take care of something that is going to be yours in exactly two years.

Really? James pointed to the truck. That’s going to be mine?

You keep taking care of business, and it’s yours.

James ran to his father and gave him a bear hug. As the excited 14-year-old hurried to collect the washing materials, he hollered back, Thanks, Dad.

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Ellie walked into the garage wearing a flowery summer dress with low-heeled pumps. She threw her arms around her husband and kissed him. You must have told him. I could hear him screaming from the house. Ellie wrapped her arm around Floyd, and the two stood in silence, watching their son meticulously at work on his future birthday present. I sure do love that boy.

He is a blessing Miss Ellie, that’s for sure.

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The late August heat was having a negative influence on the teenager. He was rushing through his shop duties while his father was bonding and sanding the fender of a Cadillac. Floyd surveyed James’ work while wiping the sweat off his forehead. Jimmy, this is sloppy work. Why are you in such a hurry?

It’s hot, Dad, and I want to get it done so I can go inside.

"Son, if you don’t have time to do it right, when will you find time to do it again? That goes against our family motto: Don’t Be Common. Now, start over and do it right."

The angry and frustrated boy grabbed the broom and mocked his father under his breath, "When are you going to find time to do it again, huh?"

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Floyd noticed Jimmy’s attitude but decided to let it go. He glanced at the back wall of the garage, which held the framed quote from Homer Hickam, which read, "There is no water holier than the sweat off a man’s brow," and thought to himself, Homer, I sure hope he gets it someday.

Ellie’s shrill whistle drew the attention of the Kelly men. Dinner time, James. Go on in, and you can finish after. The youngster, still upset, dropped the broom and headed to the house. Tell mom I will be right there.

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Go wash up, Jimmy, ordered Ellie as she placed a pitcher of sweet tea on the table.

When he returned, Ellie asked, Dad said he would be right there, right? James nodded.

Well, then, if you would bless the food, you can start eating. Your father might take a while.

James took a few seconds and obligatorily prayed, Lord, bless this food, amen.

What’s got your nose out of joint, Son?

Nothing, was his quick reply. Mother and son ate in silence until she finally asked him to get his father.

Ellie was softly humming a Patsy Cline song when she heard the frantic screaming coming from the shop. She sprinted out of the house, toward the shop, to find James over her prone husband on the floor.

I can’t get him to wake up, Mom! cried her distraught son.

Ellie tested for a pulse on Floyd’s carotid artery; her hands started shaking, and her breathing became irregular. Jesus, please don’t let him die, she silently prayed. Through watering eyes, Ellie glanced at her son, whose eyes were locked on hers. She slightly shook her head and took a deep breath, trying to calm the onsetting panic. Ellie stood, legs wobbling, like a newborn calf, as she walked to the shop phone and called for an ambulance.

Five minutes later, she stoically led the paramedics to the shop and found James, lying next to his father, sobbing. She lightly squeezed Jimmy’s shoulder, Come on, son, let the men do their job. Ellie held James while they stood watching the paramedics. Minutes later, the ambulance pulled out of the residence on Sharkey without sirens.

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Chief of Police Tim Barnes glanced at the headline in the Clarksdale Daily Register sitting on his kitchen table, Local War Hero Found Dead. Barnes read the short article: Vietnam War Veteran Floyd A. Kelly was found dead, on the floor of his auto body shop, by his 14-year-old son. An autopsy revealed that he had a massive brain aneurism and probably died instantly. Kelly was a Huey Helicopter Pilot in the Vietnam War. His assignments included everything from ferrying soldiers to and from combat zones to search and destroy missions. He was awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross, Silver Star, and a Purple Heart during his 1100 combat hours. Kelly’s Huey was shot down attempting to rescue another downed helicopter crew. One of the bullets shattered his right knee, ending his military career. The Clarksdale native came back home and opened Floyd’s Auto Body Shop. Kelly is survived by his wife Ellie, of nearly fifteen years, and his fourteen-year-old son James. Services will be on Saturday at 1:00, at the Clarksdale Baptist Church, followed by burial at Memorial Gardens Cemetery.

What’s wrong, Dad? asked Tim’s son, Jordan.

Tim looked up from the newspaper, I just read that Floyd Kelly died this week.

Did you know him?

Yes, I did. He repaired a couple of our wreaked squad cars. Did top-notch work. Barnes showed the picture, in the paper, of Floyd in his uniform, to his 16-year-old. He was a war hero, Son.

He doesn’t look very old.

He was thirty-four. It says here that he died of a massive brain aneurism. He was married and had a fourteen-year-old son named James.

James Kelly? said Jordan with recognition. I watched him play baseball this summer. He is the best young player in town.

I talked to him once when I picked up a car. Nice kid, really loved his dad. The Chief looked at the picture in the paper once more. I’m going to lead the funeral procession on this one.

You don’t usually do that, do you?

Tim shook his head. Not normally, but I would consider it an honor to lead Floyd Kelly to his final resting place.

3

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J ames Kelly slowly walked home from school, head down. This routine was replicated every day, over the two weeks since his father had passed. When he reached his home, he glanced down the driveway toward the shop. What the … muttered James, as he quickened his pace toward the garage. His father’s Ford Truck wasn’t parked in its usual spot, and his mother’s car wasn’t anywhere in sight. No, no, no, frantically whispered the boy. Please, Lord, tell me she didn’t sell the truck.

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A minute later, Ellie turned onto the driveway in her car. Oh no, uttered Ellie as she saw her son on his knees with his head in his hands. She stopped halfway down the drive and killed the engine. As she slowly exited her vehicle, she whispered, Sweet Jesus, please help me.

Ellie cautiously approached her distraught son and placed a hand on his shoulder.

James quickly stood up and stepped away. "You sold the truck, didn’t you, Mother? Ellie nodded.

Who did you sell it to?

Mr. Haro bought the truck and even gave us $2,000 more than the blue book suggested. She hesitated before she continued. Jimmy, I have to be honest, Mr. Haro told me that I could keep the truck, but I just couldn’t.

Why couldn’t you, Mom? incredulously retorted James.

Do you seriously think your father would have wanted me to do that?

Why didn’t you sell your car?

My car isn’t worth much, and you know I don’t work. She continued, eyes watering; Because of Mr. Haro’s generosity, we can make it until I find a job. The insurance barely covered the ambulance and the funeral so, I couldn’t think of anything else but to sell the truck. A steady stream of tears flowed down Ellie’s face. Please forgive me. Jimmy. I’m doing the best I can.

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His mother’s words resonated with James. He wiped his tears with the bottom of his tee-shirt and hugged her. I’m sorry, Mom. Please don’t cry. He looked into her moist eyes, I know this is hard on you too. I forgive you. The tears started to flow once again as mother and son embraced