Rainwater by Sandra Brown

barefoot.
    All this registered with her in a matter of seconds, during which it seemed that her breath had been snatched from her body. A lightning bolt struck dangerously close. The thunder that followed shook the house. Glassware and china made tinkling sounds inside cabinetry. The light fixture above the hallway rattled. The back door slammed shut, echoing the thunderclap.
    Even then, neither of them moved. Their eyes stayed locked. Ella’s heart felt on the verge of bursting.
    She said hoarsely, “The storm finally broke.”
    He held her stare for several moments longer, slowly shaking his head. “No. It didn’t.”
    She drew in a tremulous breath, her heart crowding her lungs, and forced her feet to move.
    As she went past him toward her room, he added quietly, “Not yet.”
     
    As soon as breakfast had been served and the kitchen cleaned, she and Margaret went outside to clear up the debris left by the storm. Ella was surprised to find Brother Calvin gathering broken tree limbs and heaping them into a pile in the ditch that ran along her property line.
    She looked at Margaret accusingly, but her maid shrugged. “I didn’t send for him.”
    “That’s true, Mrs. Barron. I came on my own, hoping to help out.”
    She had relented and let him paint the shutters. He’d also been paid to do other chores that required more strength and time than she had. “I can’t afford another employee,” she told him now, even as he sawed a broken limb from the pecan tree.
    “No charge. I owe you.”
    “You don’t—”
    “We’re a long way from even, Mrs. Barron.”
    When the damaged limb fell free from the tree trunk, he turned and looked at her. She saw that the white of one of his eyes still had a spot of red in it. Realizing that this was a matter of honor to him, she assented with a small nod. “I appreciate your help, Brother Calvin.”
    “That storm was all bluster. Ground’s hardly damp.”
    Ella had heard on the radio that morning that rainfall amounts were barely measurable and that what little rain there had been had fallen so quickly that it ran off before it could soak into the hard-baked ground. It certainly hadn’t put an end to the drought.
    The preacher motioned toward the ditch. “Later today, I’ll burn this brush for you. There’s more to add to the pile.”
    “Come to the kitchen at lunchtime. Margaret will feed you.”
    “Your butter beans?”
    She smiled. “Not today.”
    “Whatever it is, I thank you, ma’am.”
    Ella was busy for the rest of the morning, seeing to it that all the windowsills and floors that had been rained on the night before were mopped and dried. Her parlor draperies were damp. She shook them out and turned the fan on them to speed up the drying process.
    The noon meal was served, but she had so many chores to catch up on, she turned that meal over to Margaret, then sent her to the store with a long shopping list. By midafternoon, Ella had pork chops braising on the stove and was putting finishing touches on a banana pudding when she realized that Solly was no longer in the kitchen with her.
    “Solly!” She burst out of the kitchen and raced down the center hallway toward the front door, through which he’d ventured out once before.
    “In here.”
    She turned abruptly and retraced her steps, stopping when she reached the arched opening into the informal parlor. Mr. Rainwater was sitting on the floor, a set of dominoes scattered in front of him. Beside him was Solly, watching intently as Mr. Rainwater picked up a domino and stood it on end in perfect alignment with the previous one.
    “What—”
    “Ssh. He’s okay. Watch.”
    Any other time, she would resent being shushed, but she was so intrigued by Solly’s apparent concentration, she stepped into the room and lowered herself onto the nearest chair, perching right on the edge of the seat.
    Mr. Rainwater continued to add dominoes to the snaking line he had formed on the hardwood floor. Solly’s eyes